Into The Light (Part 1 of 6)

by Erisian

 

 

Chapter One - Emergence

 

When most people think of Los Angeles they think of traffic. Lots of traffic, with cars jammed onto the numerous freeways all creeping along like ants stuck in molasses trying to get every which way at speeds that cause everyone’s gas mileage to suffer horrible degradations. When just one of the main routes from the ‘westside’ to ‘the valley’ underwent construction that required its closing, the news media dubbed those weekends of closures ‘Carmageddon’.

Tonight’s traffic was infinitely more deserving of that name.

Normally my commute home moved at a decent pace as it was generally against the worst of the usual flow. My house was close to where everyone in the morning wanted to go and where I worked was where they reluctantly returned to at the end of the day. But according to the radio, today the greater city area was having a nervous-breakdown inspiring number of calamities and crises.

A mana-bomb had been discovered in a parking garage downtown - with a reported amount of energy sufficient to level ten city blocks worth of high-rises. LAX was reporting that they were inundated with powerful illusions of hundreds of non-existent planes trying to land or take-off from their runways - with the illusions actually generating realistic and interactive radio traffic with the tower personnel. Somewhere in Van Nuys a villain group led by ‘Darktower Dave’ had taken multiple hostages at a credit union. He was demanding that when (and if) the city disarmed the mana-bomb that they turn over to him the bomb, a helicopter, and a luxury yacht. Otherwise he was going to use his telekinetic powers to lob hostages one at a time across the Valley in a blind arc targeting the Griffith Park Observatory. Meanwhile in Hollywood the ghosts of many famous actors and actresses were now wandering the streets and being mobbed by tourists for spectral autographs.

Oh - and apparently the Dodgers were playing at their stadium, but every pitch was resulting in a home run for the Mets. Score was reportedly thirty-seven to zero in the first half of the first inning yet the magical monitoring umpires couldn’t detect any interferences from the crowd or players. The Dodgers’ manager was insisting the game be canceled, but the Mets manager was claiming his boys were ‘just having a great day’.

There were so many different things going crazy in the city that even the news radio stations were unable to summarize them all between the extended traffic and weather reports. And speaking of weather, it was hailing on the beaches, fogging over in the passes, and all the while summer-dry winds were blowing down signs in Van Nuys plus a few other spots. Heroes and law enforcement agencies were rushing everywhere, but if they couldn’t fly they were stuck in the same pile of cars along with everyone else. Let’s just say my vocabulary for curse-words was rather exhausted by the time I finally pulled into my driveway, parked, stretched the kinks out of my left leg from abusing the clutch, and walked towards my front yard and the entrance to my house.

The little courtyard gate that had happily closed behind me when I left in the morning was blown inward off its hinges. As was my front door.

All thoughts of the lousy traffic were gone as I rushed inside calling out for my niece. She should have been home from summer-school already before all the city’s mayhem struck in the late afternoon.

“Danielle!”

I tore through the foyer and down the hall, noting that it looked like a tornado had blasted its way inside leaving a mess in its wake: wall hangings of art and photographs, small desk that had been set into a wall in the hallway smashed into fragments, even random strips of carpet were shredded.

The trail of debris led to her bedroom. Its door had been sucked outward in a white shower of plywood and favorite metal band poster bits. Her backpack was on her bed, and worst of all - so was her phone.

She never went anywhere without her phone.

“Danielle?” I cried again, scrambling back over the wreckage and searching the rest of the house. The rest was untouched. My cat, Khan, normally a bold and brave companion, was hiding under the bed in my room. He meeped at me (being a Maine Coone his meow was rather high-pitched) but he looked otherwise fine. Just scared.

As was I. Danielle was gone.

Fumbling with my phone, I dialed 911.

“911, what’s your…emergency?” The operator sounded extremely frazzled.

“A tornado has hit my house. My niece is missing.”

“A tornado? What’s your name and address?”

I told him.

“Okay, sir, there have been numerous reports of anomalous meteorological activity throughout the city. Is anyone injured?”

“I don’t know. But my niece isn’t here. She should be here.”

“Could she be buried in rubble?”

“No, the house is still standing.”

“Then if she was there when this ‘tornado’ struck, perhaps she fled to a friend’s house? Or the neighbor’s?”

“She hasn’t made any friends here yet - all her friends are out of state. And she left her phone behind. She wouldn’t do that. She’s fifteen, she’s attached to the damn thing!”

I could almost hear him face-palming at me. “Sir, we have numerous issues all over right now, and many folks are hurt. Unless you have actual injuries or something obviously life-threatening, I don’t have anyone I can send for many hours. I’ll enter it into the system - but, honestly? I doubt you’ll have a deputy show up before morning, heck probably not until late afternoon if you’re lucky. Unless you get some indication beyond a forgotten phone that she’s in actual danger, in which case call back, alright?”

“She’s a mutant. Not a very noticeable one, true, but maybe she was kidnapped!”

“Sir, really, I’m sorry - but that’s the best I can do.”

“Yeah. Great. Thanks.” I hung up before I said rude things to the poor guy.

I stood in the hallway, looking down at the pictures now strewn about the floor in broken frames. I picked one of my wife from our honeymoon - her smiling and holding up a margarita while the sun dipped towards the ocean, framing her with scattered illuminated clouds of glorious pinks and reds. The sunset was gorgeous, but it was nothing compared to the sheer light and joy shining in her eyes. My Caroline. God, she had been so beautiful.

Shaking my head, I set the picture aside and tried to figure out what to do about Danielle.

After a few too many minutes of drawing a blank in rising frustration, my doorbell rang. Could the police have actually shown up?

“Hello? Anyone here? Everyone okay?” A male voice, echoing from the foyer.

“Yes and no,” I answered. I walked carefully down the hall, trying not to step on anything important.

The guy standing just inside my new lack of a front door was slightly shorter than I was, and wearing a brown leather trenchcoat. He even was wearing a tie - one of those Jerry Garcia colorfully patterned ones of purple and gold swirls. He was holding a softball sized green crystal up to an eye and peering around at the damage.

He obviously was not a cop.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked directly, not being in my most polite frame of mind.

“This your house?” He didn’t even pause his examinations to look at me.

“Yeah it is. So let me ask again: who the fuck are you?”

“Nick. Nick Wright. I, uh, I consult with the agencies on…things.” He gestured vaguely with a hand that had been tattooed with a solid black sigil of some kind on the palm - a six pointed star maybe, with weird writing around it.

“That is entirely non-descriptive.”

“Yeah, well, it’s rather complicated. Was anyone else here when this,” he again waved the marked hand about, “all happened?”

“Possibly my niece.”

He winced. “She gone?”

“Left her phone behind. She’s fifteen.”

“Crud. She a mutant?”

I stepped closer to the guy as my hands clenched into fists. “So what if she is?”

The green crystal thing lowered from his eye and he looked at me properly for the first time. “Oh damn, no sorry, you’ve got me all wrong. Look - I’m classified as a meta too, okay?”

“Really? What kind?” I think a muscle in my face twitched.

“Magic. I do magic. And if I’m not mistaken, your niece was taken by magic as well. It’s why I’m here.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I told you, I work with agencies. Federal usually. We got a tip on something, and I’m trying to follow it.”

“Either talk sense and hopefully say something useful, or get the hell out of my house.”

“Uh, right.” He took a cautious step backwards away from me. “There’s a practitioner. A very skilled practitioner, his name is Callas Soren. We know he showed up in this city a few weeks ago. Information led us to believe he was looking for something - or more specifically someone. Someone young and female.”

“And you think that’s my niece?”

“Anyone else live here?”

“No. Just me and her. She only moved in a few weeks ago after her mom’s funeral.”

“Huh. Sorry to hear that. What about you? Any mutations or meta-stuff?”

“No.”

“Right. So if she’s missing, and as this scan is showing traces of Soren’s magic then…yeah. Likely he’s got her.”

“My niece may be a mutant, but she’s just a low-level regenerator with a mild magic sensitivity. Why would anyone be interested in her?”

He waved me off. “Why isn’t important right now. What is important is us finding her, and fast.”

“So she’s in danger? This guy might hurt her?”

“Possibly, yes. Look - give me a minute here, alright?” He stuck his hands into various pockets, obviously searching for something, then pulled out a small box. “Ah, here we go.”

“What’s that?”

“Modified compass. Get her phone, it’s probably awash with her energy - I can likely use that to track where she is.”

“And then call the cops?”

He gave me a look of deadly seriousness. “The special tasks groups are so busy at the moment, I doubt they’d even take my call. Regular cops wouldn’t have a clue about what they’d be dealing with. Nor would most superheroes.”

“But you do.” I didn’t bother hiding the skepticism from my face.

“Yeah, I do. I’m here because I do. I’ve spent the past few weeks placing detecting wards all over this damnable sprawling city to hone in on any magical fluxes tuned to Soren’s specific resonances. And despite today’s other crazy ruckuses all over town mucking up the works - they led me to your house. Needle in a haystack the size of the Greater Metropolitan Area - one which I think was also set on fire in multiple places.”

I stared at him for a moment. He was either actually here to help, or was in on it somehow. Either way, it was all I had to go on. I couldn’t very well chase a tornado - real or magical.

“I’ll get her phone.” I did so and handed it over to him.

He took it while looking stonily at what I was carrying in my other hand. “And what is that..?”

With both hands now free I raised it up and pumped the slide action.

“It’s called a shotgun. I’m going with you.”

He wisely didn’t argue. He did insist, however, on taking his rented Ford Focus - saying that he’d paid for the extra insurance coverage in case something happened. Considering the damage my house had already experienced, he had a rather good point. I liked my car.

 

~o~O~o~

 

We spent the next few hours trying to maneuver around the city through gridlock so he could triangulate where Danielle might be. I didn’t feel like being chatty, so any actual conversation was strained and existed in several short bursts.

Like:

“You married?” He obviously had noticed my wedding band.

“Was.”

“Divorce?”

“Lost her to cancer a few years ago.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

 

Or:

“You got a name?”

“Justin.”

“Nice house. What do you do?”

“I write medical database software. Try surface streets. This is getting us nowhere.”

“Yeah, uh…I don’t know this city that well.”

“I’ll guide you. Get off at the next exit and hang a left.”

 

And even:

“Just who is Soren? And what exactly would he hope to gain by kidnapping my niece?”

“He’s a potent practitioner, and was my former mentor in the Arts. Knowing him, he’d say he was trying to save the world.”

“How?”

“He has some kind of theory. That heavenly forces are up to something. He would never tell me any more than that.”

“And my niece fits into this?”

“I’m operating on supposition, but I think he believes she’s the key to it all.”

“He’s going to sacrifice her?” That came out strangled.

“No, or at least not directly. If he’s wrong - then yes, she’ll probably die.”

“So is he fucking insane?”

“He’d claim otherwise. But basically, yeah. Maybe.”

“Shit. He behind all this other chaos in the city too?”

“My opinion? Yes. He’s got the resources for it.”

“That’s scary.”

“Yeah.”

I didn’t say much more after that, and neither did he.

 

~o~O~o~

 

We eventually arrived at a rental storage facility in West Los Angeles. Throughout the trip the radio kept reporting more crazy happenings. Cars starting up and driving off without drivers - and not the ones with autodrive capability. A murder of crows had swooped into a mall attacking everyone at the food court. Nick drove around the storage place a few times while checking on his magical compass thing. After parking he pulled out a laptop computer from the backseat and with some typing and clicking I saw him log into an FBI website - where he somehow managed to retrieve a blueprint of the storage building. His story about working for ‘agencies’ began to seem more solid but instead of being comforted it only made me even more worried for Danielle.

He imported the blueprint into some other kind of software, and much to my surprise he popped off the bottom piece of his magic compass to reveal a wire that ended in a usb plug. He inserted the plug into his laptop while muttering to himself in some language other than English. I didn’t recognize it.

After a minute though, he said clearly, “Unit three-oh-five. Ten feet by fifteen.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“What can we expect? Goons? Explosives? Magic traps?”

Frowning, Nick looked around outside the car and again at the building. It was now closer to midnight, and the streets were empty. People were obviously trying to be smart and hide in their homes. In the distance a lonely emergency siren could be heard.

“He’s probably not expecting to be found. All the noise and effort everywhere else should have everyone tied up. So most likely just a magic trap of some kind. Leave that to me, and don’t be trigger happy.” He paused and ran a hand over his buzz-cut hair. “Well, unless you have to. Or you could stay in the car.”

“No.”

“Right, then. Let’s go.”

We got the keys to access the elevator from the guy who had been manning the front desk. He didn’t object much, as he had fallen instantly asleep after Nick waved a hand at him. “He’ll be fine later,” was all Nick would say about it.

My heart pounded as we rode the elevator up. If Nick heard it, he didn’t say anything. He just rummaged in his front pockets, frowned a bit more, then fumbled about in other ones inside his coat. I noticed that the inner lining had similar markings as his palms.

I asked myself what the hell I was doing. But then I thought of Danielle, and my grip on the gun tightened.

We approached three-oh-five. Its tall orange garage-style door was closed.

Nick held up a hand and I stopped walking. We were still one door short. He took one more step, then rolled a blue marble towards it down the hallway.

The marble almost made it to the door, then melted. And became steam. Nick nodded and gestured us forward.

I let him go first.

He stopped in front of it to stare at the padlock. He frowned and started to reach into pockets again.

I don’t know why, but I quickly just yanked him behind me and stepped to the side. Then I blew the padlock (and the part of the door it was resting against) right off. The gunshot was so much louder than I expected - I had forgotten to bring hearing protection. Crap. Also, ow.

“Jesus Christ!” Nick exclaimed. He wasted no time, however, in throwing the orange door upwards. I pumped another shell into the chamber as he did, so I could cover whatever was revealed.

I’m not sure what I expected to see in there, but I will admit I wasn’t disappointed.

The entire inside of the storage unit - floor, walls, and ceiling had been covered in blue and black runes, circles, and writings in many languages. Some I could guess at (Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Sanskrit), but others looked like nothing I had ever seen. There was no light in the unit, but enough spilled in from the hallway to make them out.

The script and symbols were slowly shifting and moving even while we watched. As I tried to track them my senses were assaulted - it was like all of Niagara Falls was flooding through that room in bursts of waves sending purely weird vertigo sensations right through me. As if reality itself was pulsating within - and yet at the same time it was quiet and only painted with the weird shifting marks. I couldn’t resolve the conflicting visions looking into the room was ramming into my brain.

I doubled over and threw up onto the clean floor in the hallway.

Nick though, he seemed unaffected. He merely whistled as if in appreciation.

“Wow, Callas. I’m impressed.”

A voice at the back end of the unit answered. The tone was calm, measured, and professional: a voice accustomed to command, but one that never needed to belabor that position.

“Thank you, Nicolas. It is always nice to have one’s work appreciated. I’d suggest you stay outside, however. The consequences of entry would be rather dire to ones such as ourselves.”

I wiped off my chin with the back of my hand and straightened, trying to get a coherent vision of the storage unit without my stomach rebelling on me again.

Danielle was in there, right in the center. Bound to a wooden chair, dark hair falling forward to frame her face. A face that looked somehow different than it had this morning when she went to school, even counting for the strange lines of green energies swirling across her skin.

Forcing my innards to behave I tried to focus only on her and what had happened to her. Her features were more slender, more angular. She had been skinnier after being released from the hospital after the car accident that claimed my sister Helena’s life, but this was more pronounced. She still was recognizable, just…altered. Her eyes were closed and she sat there limply in the midst of the reality maelstrom she sat within.

“Danielle!” She didn’t so much as twitch. “Is she dead?” I shouted in panic at the guy who was supposed to understand all this magical insanity.

Nick, who had been examining the scene with eyes darting to the corners, refocused on Danielle. He shook his head.

“No, not yet. But something is wrong. Callas! What did you do? What is this?”

The voice tsked. I could barely make out a man standing in shadow behind the distorted weirdness within an empty circle at the very back of the room. The room then swirled into a multi-hued fragmented kaleidescope, as if my mind’s single image of the scene shredded itself into infinite holographic shards. Problem was that each shard was like its own musical wind-chime, and my tongue could taste the exact temperatures of the individual notes. My stomach rose in rebellion again while my inner ear issued its own complaints. I had to look away, trying to focus on Nick instead.

“Come now, Nicolas. You should recognize the patterns. I am releasing her inherent divinity. But I will admit that she is resisting more than expected.”

Nick extended a hand inside the room before crying out in agony. The mark on his hand burst into blue flame, and a twin mark on his other hand did the same. Dropping to his knees, he used his coat to smother the flames on both. The smell of cooked skin assaulted my nose, but considering how messed up my senses were at the moment, the smell just kind of blended in to the overall chaotic tapestry.

The shadow figure spoke again wryly, “I told you it would be bad to enter. We’ve forged ourselves to be channels for such energies in our practices - and there simply is too much in there for either of us to handle.”

Nick, gritting his teeth in pain, looked up at me. “I can’t go in there. Neither can he. You said she was a low level regenerator, right?”

I nodded. “So she’ll live?”

He shook his head again and my hopes sank. “No. It’s keeping her alive but barely. But he fucked up.” Nick shouted angrily at the shadowy figure. “You hear that, Soren? You fucked up!”

“Hmm? How so?”

“Look at the patterns on her skin! Those are not the patterns of Heaven!”

“Impossible. She’d have died by now if she wasn’t-”

“She’s a regenerator, you idiot! And those markings, I’ve seen them before. They’re Fae marks, you bastard!”

“Fae?”

“Why’d you take her? Just because she was a mutant?”

“Of course not. Don’t be stupid. The ley lines around her home, as I’m sure you noticed, are warped. All elements were converging, albeit slowly. A nexus was forming under that house. Her spirit - her non-human spirit - was calling them. I’m only speeding up a process that had already begun.”

Nick gasped, peering around the room again. My vision couldn’t keep up with his - lines of all the colors of the rainbow and beyond were swirling through it now as if in a whirlpool, evoking smells, sounds, and tastes from random childhood memories. Yet, even weirder still, another part of my brain’s perceptions seemed to show it clearly as just a room with odd scribblings covering everything.

“A ley core. You’ve…directly tapped a higher source!”

“Of course. Primal energy at its purest and most potent.”

“It’s killing her, you asshole!” I shouted. If he hadn’t been directly behind Danielle, I would have shot at him. But a shotgun is not a very precise weapon, nor would I have been accurate enough with a rifle even if I’d had one. As I looked back at my niece, the odd unaffected mental window in my perceptional chaos watched as her dark hair shimmered and slowly faded into a soft white: a shade as pure as undisturbed snow.

Nick cursed under his breath, then gave me a haunted look. “I can’t stop this. I can’t go in there - if I did I’d go up like a matchstick. The channels must be tied to her; the only way to shut it down is to get her out.” He sank further down upon his knees in defeat.

I grabbed him by his coat lapel, as if trying to lift him off the floor with one hand. “What if I went in there? I’m not a wizard like you.”

He shook his head. “The spell with that kind of energy - it’s built to strip away mortality. The shell of humanity. She’s holding on because her spirit is actually of the Fae and her talent includes self-healing. You wouldn’t ignite like me, but your soul would either get slowly ripped from your body and sent on its way…or be utterly obliviated.”

“Slowly. You said ‘slowly’. How long?”

“What?”

“How much time before I’d die? Figure it out!”

Nick stared blankly at me. It was Soren who answered in a calm and clear voice.

“Approximately fifteen seconds. Perhaps slightly longer. My former apprentice is indeed correct in his assessment. Her pattern is not properly in tune with the channel. And neither of us would likely last more than a second if we crossed the boundary. To both Nicolas and myself the channel would prove instantly hostile.”

I swallowed and looked back towards Danielle. Her hair had grown longer while her skin had become more pale and luminescent.

Nick grabbed at my arm, ignoring the pain of the blisters forming on his palm. “You can’t go in there. Her soul will survive and go on - yours most likely won’t.”

I closed my eyes and my mind flashed to my sister Helena’s funeral. Danielle’s hand had held tightly to mine during the entire service. Her father abandoned both her and her mother when they discovered Danielle was a mutant back when she was only five. The prejudicial asshole had fled, after calling my niece a monster to her face. Standing over my sister’s grave I had silently promised that I would take care of her daughter as if she were my very own.

I wasn’t going to go back on my word.

The shotgun clattered as it hit the floor. “Let go, Nick. Or I’ll drag your ass in there with me.”

“It’s suicide.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

His grip fell away. “Justin, the chair isn’t bolted down. Just get the whole thing out with her in it.”

I inhaled deeply and nodded.

Then I charged into the maelstrom of shifting crazy perceptions, all while shouting an incoherent scream. In my heart I sent a prayer for her survival to gods I had stopped believing in a long time ago.

 

I expected a lot of pain - and it didn’t disappoint. Every nerve fiber in my body instantly lit up like a Christmas tree being connected to the raw output of a nuclear power station. It was as if my entire body was busily being ironed by the fresh magma from an exuberantly active volcano. Yet at the same time it also felt like I had been plunged deeply within liquid nitrogen formed into a lake on the coldest part of Pluto. My willpower to move tried to collapse against the brunt of that sudden excruciating, conflicting, incomprehensible agony.

But at the same time I also somehow heard and felt the distant sound and sensation of singing. The sounds and passions of the most glorious song ever beheld - as if a million perfectly harmonic voices were echoing the symphonic wonder and glory of the last movement of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, of Handel’s Messiah Chorus, Mozart’s Requiem, and John Williams’ Throne Room and Finale from Star Wars simultaneously. No description I could give would do the experience of that music justice - it was beautiful beyond all rational comprehension.

That singing swirled into me, spurring me onward, even as the totality of sanity-destroying pain spread from under my skin into my muscles and into the very marrow of my teeth and bones.

I flailed and pushed through the room as if it were tangible and made of jello, ignoring how my skin was now lighting up like a brilliant white neon sign. My senses screaming incoherently, I grabbed Danielle in a bear hug and lifted. Somehow I managed to turn and stumble back towards Nick. He was staring at me with an expression of shock, horror, and something else I couldn’t quite identify. Maybe awe. Or maybe he was just astounded at my suicidal stupidity.

All the while that glorious singing echoed throughout my soul, keeping will and focus clear through each agonizing step even though it felt like my feet would collapse into powder with each roaring impact against the sigil-marked floor and take the rest of me with it.

Reaching near the edge of the unit I could feel my consciousness eagerly trying to fade out. My vision, as discombobulated as it was, shrank sharply inward. Right before the darkness reached the center, I heaved with all I had left to toss Danielle and her chair those final few inches. As I started to fall forward the last thing I saw was her bare toes clearing the dividing line between madness and the hallway beyond.

A final triumphant resultant note of the Song resonated within me as I hit the floor. From behind I thought I heard Soren say something.

Sounded awfully like “Amen”.

That’s when sweet nothingness enveloped everything and pulled me irresistibly under.

I was okay with that.

 

Chapter Two - Changes

 

A tower of blinding light rose endlessly above, shining the fulfillment and answer to every yearning ever imagined. More than anything I desired to stand within that light, let it cleanse me, and in so doing wash away all the aching pains and sorrows even unto the consumption of everything I was and ever had been. Without hesitation I instinctively reached upwards, straining to connect to that glory, but a voice of sublime tenderness whispered: ‘Not yet’.

I was then falling away from the promise of absolute peace as a chime sounded three times mixing with the echoes of that loss…

 

I awoke in a hospital bed.

My eyes remained closed, but I didn’t need to see to know where I was. The quiet whoosh of the oxygen tube leading to the plastic prongs stuck in my nostrils joined the low-level hum of a heart monitor. The scent of antiseptic permeated my sinuses despite the oxygen being pumped up my nose. In a room nearby I could hear the bleating of an IV pump’s alarm trying to get the attention of someone to refill whatever contents it had been dispensing. People were talking outside the room, too muffled to make out actual conversation but the urgently serious tones were clear.

I recognized the ambiance all too well. I had practically lived in the damn hospital watching Caroline slip away from me piece by piece. The oxygen sensor clamped to an index finger also gave it away. But something else was also just, well, wrong.

I honestly felt too good.

Yes, I was tired, but it was a good tired. I mean, I may not have been ancient or over the hill at forty-three, but I had the aches which had become the accepted background noise of day-to-day life. A soreness in my lower right back, pains in my wrists from abusing many computer keyboards, not to mention the standard chest tightness of an asthma condition that journeyed hand-in-hand with collecting sinuses infections much like Internet trolls garnered down-votes.

All of these were just gone. I wondered if I had actually died and moved on, but the nurse’s sneakers as she came into my room sounded far too mundane. I just didn’t think angels (or demons for that matter), would wear shoes that squeaked that badly as a mechanism for announcing their presence. Trumpets, sure, or maybe howling screams if I’d gone to the other place, but not sticking rubber like this.

Opening my eyes I rolled them sideways at the nurse. She startled as our eyes met and blurted out, “Oh! You’re awake! Let me…let me get the doctor.”

She fled the room in a rush before I even had the chance to say ‘hello’.

I frowned; she was obviously scared by something. Not a good sign when you wake up in a hospital, and I felt a rise of panic. What if my lack of the usual pains was due to being totally paralyzed? Not a happy thought.

My heart monitor began to beep more rapidly as I internally tried to take stock.

The bed. I could feel the mattress below me and the blanket that had me covered. Tentatively I wiggled my feet, and sure enough they moved causing the thin blanket to tug on the toes.

So far so good.

Going slowly I turned my head first to the left, and then to the right. No neck brace was in place to prevent movement, but I could feel my hair pull a bit with each direction. Obviously someone had undone my usual ponytail. No pain from the movement, also good.

I was about to try and extend a hand upwards when a man wearing a white doctor’s coat strode in, closing the door behind him. He was a shorter man, stout but not plump, with a short trimmed salt-and-pepper goatee and frenetically bushy eyebrows sticking up above dark rimmed glasses.

“Ah, yes. Please don’t move much yet. Mister Thorne, isn’t it?” He had an eastern European accent, but it wasn’t overly thick.

I glared at him, which seemed to cause him a moment’s discomfort as he looked quickly away to studiously examine the screen on his tablet. “Yes. It is,” I answered.

My general irritation with all doctors was rudely interrupted by the experience of my voice being wrong, way wrong. Not only was it young, but it sounded softly feminine. My usual voice wasn’t the deepest of manly voices, but it did alright in that department. This wasn’t it at all - this was the voice of a pre-adult girl.

Wait. Teenage girl…memories of recent events flashed through my head. Danielle!

“My niece!” I exclaimed while bolting fully upright in the bed, surprising the doctor who lost his grip on his device. “Is she alive?”

As the tablet was falling to the floor causing a loud clatter and bounce, it dawned on me that I had felt something else fall from my sudden movement upwards.

My chest. And the off-white blanket which had kept me covered.

Looking down my mind blanked in shock and disbelief. Two perky, round, and prominent breasts dangled free above the bed. The pale pink nipples immediately tried to retreat from the sudden exposure to the rather cooler air of the room.

My mouth spoke to cover my brain’s lost coherency. “Boobs.”

The startled doctor flushed beet red and quickly spun around to face a wall. “Uhm, yes. Mister Thorne. A, uh, a nurse should have dressed you in a gown, apologies. As you can see, there is much to discuss.”

My hands instinctively reached up to cup the new pectoral attachments to confirm their reality. Yup, they were real. They were also fairly bouncy.

He continued talking, albeit towards the far wall. “To answer your question, your niece, Danielle, is recovering on a different floor. She woke once, reported that she was not in any pain, confirmed her identity, gave a brief description of her kidnapping, and then fell right back asleep. Other than being thoroughly exhausted and drained, she appears to be unharmed. We have been monitoring her vitals, as we’ve been monitoring yours.”

Looking down at these mounds of femininity within my hands caused my mind to jump to disturbing new tracks. “Did that bastard do anything to her? You know…untoward things…?” I felt anger rising at the thought of her having been defenseless and at Soren’s despicable mercy. What if he had forced himself on her? I felt sick at the image.

“Fortunately, no,” he answered. “She said that she lost consciousness after being, and I quote, ‘yoinked right out and up over all the houses’. In addition, her body shows no sign of any such physical trauma.” He coughed. “Her virtue, so to speak, was determined to still be intact - something which most regenerators don’t replace after experiencing their initial coitus. Though it can happen.”

Relief flooded through me, and I forced myself to focus. Priorities. I pulled the blanket back up, holding it in place with arms crossed under my new and still rather shocking anatomical acquisitions.

“Sorry. You can turn around now.”

He risked a glance over his shoulder to check that I was indeed covered, then coughed again before picking up his tablet. He fiddled with it and its screen finally came back on. The reappearance of medical facts and lab results on his display seemed to reassure him for he straighted up with recovered doctoral poise.

“Ahem. I am Doctor Kirov, and I have been put in charge of your case. Ordinarily in such a situation I’d also include a psychologist to talk to you first after discussing the relevant medical scenarios and, well, be more gentle about such…personal revelations. Unfortunately the MCO are downstairs, thus I’m afraid our first visit must by necessity be short and to the point. I will have to be blunt: you’ve transformed into what appears to be a young and healthy girl of perhaps fifteen to sixteen years of age. All tests indicate the change to be complete…and thorough.”

I just stared at him, not wanting to register all the implications. Worse still was the MCO, the Mutant Commission Office, was here. Internationally tasked with overseeing mutants worldwide, their reputation for attitudes towards new mutants was, shall we say, less than stellar. Including some very nasty rumors and reports from what I’d dug up over the years.

He continued. “In addition to the MCO demanding to see you immediately, there is a message for you from the Department of Paranormal Affairs.”

The DPA? If I was lucky…“Is the message from an Agent Mark Boone?”

He blinked. “Yes, yes it is. He instructs you and Danielle to, and I quote, ‘sit tight’ and that he is on his way with an ‘E.T.A. of five hours’.”

Relief turned to thinking fast. “Okay. Regardless of what has happened to me, I am still Danielle’s legal guardian. The MCO is not to interrogate or even talk to her without me present.”

“I can note that, but with everything else that happened in the city last night, the MCO agents are rather anxious. The gentleman who arrived with you in the ambulance departed against doctor’s advice after being bandaged for some rather nasty burns on his hands. We only have his word for it that you are, or were, a ‘Mister Justin Thorne’ and thus related to Danielle. His story was, as you can imagine now, rather unique. And currently a State of Emergency has been declared in Los Angeles.”

“Are there FBI agents also waiting?”

“Yes ma’am.” He then added lamely, “…sir.”

“Good. Alright doctor, I’ll talk to the MCO as long as some FBI guys are in here too. But first?”

“Yes?”

“How the hell did this happen to me? Am I a mutant? I thought such things could take time, or did it happen while I was out? What time is it?”

“You’ve been here in the hospital for just over sixteen hours, it’s now five in the afternoon. And no, you arrived as you find yourself now.”

I’d heard of mutants undergoing dangerous effects after their mutations first triggered, including transformations into all kinds of things. Also that some will run such an extreme fever that they cook their own brains and die. The media, with the medical establishment following the crowd, labeled it ‘burnout’, and the effects had claimed the lives of countless new mutants.

“Any signs of burnout?” I asked.

“None.”

Thank God. He continued, “Your blood-work, respiratory, and heartbeat patterns have all been normal. Extremely normal, which in itself is intriguing. However, being a fully equipped hospital we do have some new scanners that can detect magical residue - and quite frankly, on this alone you are pinging off the charts. If it weren’t for this fact, your burned friend’s story regarding your identity would likely have not been given much weight.”

“So am I under an effect of a spell? Is this going to wear off?” Skyward jumps the hope!

He shook his head in the negative. Hope floundered mid-leap to fall flat on its face.

“I’m sorry, Mister Thorne. Our resident practitioners have examined you as thoroughly as possible, and while it’s clear you have been exposed to a major, if not cataclysmic, level of magical energies - they could detect no spell or even any lingering spell effect which could have caused your sudden change. They are all rather baffled. So am I - for the blood testing also has not detected any signs of mutation. In fact, it shows no sign of anything one would expect to see as residue from your previous form, like lingering testosterone levels, or free-floating unused stem-cells from the transformation.”

Doctor Kirov paced besides my bed as he got going with the medical analysis. His gestures with his tablet grew wider and more exuberant in his rising excitement and scientific fascination. “If you do indeed have a variant of BIT - a Body Image Template, you do know what that is, yes? Excellent. If it has not manifested due to a mutation, but perhaps instead from whatever exposed you to such extraordinary levels of magic, then this is quite unheard of. In fact, we really should consider running a deeper scan plus there are quite a few more tissue tests we’d like to do. Our medical wizarding staff will need to interview you in detail. Perhaps bone marrow extraction, or even brain fluid sampling would be useful…”

A nurse swung open the door, thankfully interrupting him. “Doctor? The MCO is threatening to search this floor room by room for ‘their witness’. I don’t think we can stall them any longer.”

The doctor cursed under his breath in what sounded like Russian. “Alright, alright.” When he looked back over at me I couldn’t help feeling not like a patient but rather a lab specimen containing secrets just waiting for him to peel out of my skin. “We’ll have to continue our discussion later, Miss Thorne. You may want to don a gown before they get here.” He nodded quickly in my general direction before walking out. He didn’t even give me a chance to respond.

Wait a second, did he just call me ‘Miss’? Yes, yes he did. I looked down at the slender gentle-looking female hands holding the blanket and gulped. The initial shock was starting to wear off, but a deeper inner emotional storm had just started to gather.

And now I had to go deal with the MCO - a group known for first assuming any mutant or meta was a horrible and dangerous threat to the world before any examination of real facts, and worse sometimes they would act on those assumptions in unpleasant and occasionally violent ways. Or so I had read on various mutant forums when trying to research things to help my niece. A lot of the stories were truly terrifying.

Couldn’t I have just stayed asleep?

 

~o~O~o~

 

The authorities were apparently not giving the doctors any leeway. According to the nurse that kindly had interrupted Kirov’s impression of Doctor Moreau, I only had a few minutes to get into a hospital gown before agents would arrive at my room. I deliberately didn’t go into the bathroom and risk looking into a mirror, as honestly I wasn’t ready to see the full deal. I was still locked in ‘crisis management’ mode and trying desperately to stay in some semblance of focus.

The nurse helped me get dressed while mentioning that the governor had declared a State of Emergency. Her name was Irene, and she tried to be gentle. She commented apologetically that some of the staff had a fear of ‘emergent mutants’, due to other cases which historically had not gone so well for the patients - or the staff. That probably explained my total lack of a gown when I awoke, which honestly was a more reassuring thought than the idea of some pervy orderly taking explicit photos of my unconscious body - one I hadn’t even seen for myself yet. She even whispered ‘good luck’ in my ear before escaping past the four agents who marched into my room.

The four didn’t even try to play it friendly. Without prologue they immediately demanded information on who I was, what had happened, and was I now or ever had been a member of the Communist Party of America. Okay, the last bit wasn’t true, but the actual discussion really wasn’t that far off.

I proceeded with a detailed recounting of events starting with my arrival at my house. The FBI guys corroborated the details of my 911 call - even noting that I was relaying that phone conversation practically verbatim. The two agents from the MCO were completely fixated on details about Nick, as if he was the real criminal of the evening. Then again, maybe he was one somehow. While they kept implying heavily that they had bad history with the guy, he did find Danielle and he did get us safely to the hospital after I passed out. He earned serious points for that by my tally. The FBI agents focused their attention on Soren, especially after I remembered Nick indicating he could have coordinated all the disasters across the city. They grilled me on what specific evening happenings I knew of, so I tried to recall all the ones mentioned on the radio. I had a suspicion that there were a few more incidents that had not been reported on, which if I mentioned would probably have implicated me as being involved. Ignorance was indeed bliss, in this case.

My attempts to find out what happened after I had lost consciousness didn’t go far. They didn’t know anything - Nick had skipped out before they arrived.

The female of the two MCO agents refused to believe I was who I said I was, claiming that I must be involved with Soren and kept demanding I reveal the location of the ‘real’ Justin Thorne. While her partner was a tall and likely ex-football player, she was a short and slender woman in her early thirties - and for whatever reason had obviously taken an instant dislike to me. Or perhaps that attitude was towards all mutants or just guys who woke up as girls. Maybe both. Her partner actually seemed embarrassed by her attitude as the interview went on, but never said anything to rein her in.

Finally she flat out said I was nothing but Soren’s cheap and underage floozy.

That did it. My temper flared, and I prepared to describe in gory detail that if she thought I was a floozy then it was clear it was only because her own career had been singularly advanced by such tactics, and therefore she saw it everywhere she looked whether it actually existed or not.

I was just about to deliver my mighty counter-rant when one of the FBI guys said quietly, “her eyes are glowing”. All four of them took a large cautious step back as the female MCO started to pull her gun from the holster under her arm.

Before the situation could go all movie western on us, the door popped open startling all of us. When I saw who was standing there, though, my own tension fell away with relief.

“Mark! Thank God.”

Department of Paranormal Affairs Agent Mark Boone, looking more rumpled in his suit than usual yet still quite tall and imposing, strode past the doorway. His hair was cut military short, but I could see some grey moving in on his temples.

Ignoring the other agents, his gaze fixated on me. “Justin? Is that really you?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but honestly I can’t blame him for that. Or at least I couldn’t once I later had gotten a chance to spend some time with a mirror.

“Dammit, not you too,” I grumbled. “Fine. Just ask me something only I would know. You at least can corroborate things.”

Mark finally noticed the other agents in the room. “This investigation has been turned over to the DPA. We will share our findings with your offices. But I will need to question this witness alone, potentially on matters of confidential national security.”

While I really enjoyed the looks on the MCO agents’ faces, he seemed awfully serious with his statement. He wasn’t just making an excuse to get them to leave. He meant it.

That was scary.

They all shuffled out reluctantly. The woman MCO agent (one ‘Gloria Fairbanks’, a name I filed away for later) was truly pissed and glared daggers at me as she left. Good riddance.

When the door closed Mark just kept looking me over in complete disbelief.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh for…just ask me something already!”

He grimaced. “Sorry. It’s just…uh, rather shocking. How about we start with you telling me how you knew who I am.”

“Because you’re Caroline’s brother, and if you hadn’t witnessed the prejudice Danielle faced from her own father ten years ago, you probably would currently be wearing a jacket that says ‘FBI’ and not ‘DPA’.”

He nodded cautiously. “That’s true enough. But I need something that only Justin would know.”

I frowned, leaned back, and tried to think. “I’d try to say something hinting about how only I know what you did at my bachelor’s party, but let’s be honest - we all went out to a movie and then went to a bar before taking separate cabs home. Nothing secret there, only just showing how boring and straight-laced we and our friends are.”

A slight smile poked at one side of his serious expression.

“And how about this?” I said with a grin. “Eight years ago, as a newly minted DPA agent, you once showed up to my office with your shiny new DPA laptop and were freaking out. You’d accidentally clicked on some spam in your personal email which promptly corrupted your browser with malware, including making the machine part of a pedophile porn serving bot-net. You were desperate for me to clean it all off so you wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of your agency’s IT department. It took me four solid days to force a reset that wasn’t still corrupted.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed about that, but didn’t say anything.

“I also know about how that cop in Nevada, once he realized you were in the DPA, wanted to let you off the hook for speeding when the three of us were coming back from Vegas - and how you insisted he give you the ticket anyway, because your conscience is so stuck as a paladin it’s ridiculous.”

He chuckled. “That’s a good one. Though that cop probably told the story to others to get laughs.”

I dropped my grin to stare at him in all seriousness. “Then finally, how about the fact that I loved your sister with all my heart and would do anything to have her back here to hold in my arms again, even if I had to look like this for the rest of my days? Because there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish…”

My sentence died away on my lips, because tears were already spilling out. I thought I had healed or at least scabbed over the wound of her loss, but my emotions were as raw there in that hospital room as they had been in another such room three years ago.

I buried my face in my hands, unable to get it to stop. Poor Mark didn’t quite know what to do - I was seriously breaking our established ‘guy code’ where we had each mourned Caroline in our own ways…and alone.

“Ah hell. Justin, I’m sorry man…”

“Fuck.” I sniffed, trying to pull myself together. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry, Mark. You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m just not myself today…”

He had moved closer to the bed, obviously struggling with whether he should try to offer me (me!) a hug or something. But my line caught him off guard and he couldn’t help but go, “Ha!”

That triggered me to snort, and then we were then laughing together. Although I was still sniffling until he finally got me some kleenex.

“Okay, I give! I accept you’re Justin. Though maybe ‘Justine’ would be better now, eh?”

I groaned and blew my nose one more time. “Dude, too soon.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I think you’ll have to get used to it. Give me the run down, bro…err, sis? Damn.”

Shaking my head, I gave him yet another full recount of my previous evening, trying not to leave out any details. I even remembered details I hadn’t consciously noticed at the time which was a bit odd. At the end, I asked him, “So who is Nick Wright, anyway? He one of yours?”

“He’s a consultant. I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t know all the details. A lot is classified above my level.”

“He mentioned he had been Soren’s student. The elephant in the room we keep not mentioning is why that storage unit spell that Soren was doing to Danielle caused, well, this to me.” I gestured at my current state. “And why it didn’t kill me, or as Nick put it, ‘obliviate’ my soul. It sure hurt enough for that, though.”

“You’re most likely going to end up as a bit of a lab rat at the DPA while our own experts try to figure all that out. Honestly, Justin, you might just be a mutant who manifested as a result of what Soren was doing in that room. The quick briefing I got on the way in says the results of your tests all show normal, but that there were also anomalies in the data that the hospital equipment couldn’t explain. All your samples and results are currently being confiscated and moved to our labs in any case.”

“What? Why?”

“Procedure. Like I said: classified.”

“Great. Just great. Think this can be, you know, undone? Fixed? The doctor seemed more interested in examination than cure.”

He winced. “From what I’ve read about such transformations, if it’s something that wasn’t imposed from the outside then recovery isn’t usually likely. And there’s no sign of a curse or anything similar.”

I sighed, sitting quietly for a moment while I let that sink in.

He broke the silence. “I was told Danielle woke up once already and then drifted off again. Have you seen her yet?”

“No, haven’t had the chance yet.” While I wanted to rush through the hospital to wherever her room was, my imagination realized that might not go so well and I grimaced. “They may not have told her about what happened to me yet, in fact they probably didn’t. Charging in there looking like an utterly deranged psych-ward escapee to wrap her in my arms may not be such a good idea. Especially not a crazy girl her own age that is trying to claim to be her uncle that’s been magically visited by the gender-swapping fairy godmother.”

Mark winced in sympathy. “You think she’ll take it badly?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. She has to deal with her own changes too.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Your briefing must have sucked. By the time I tossed her out of that damn storage unit, her hair had gone snow-white, grown from her shoulders to her butt, and her face looked less, well, human. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a pair of vulcan-like ears now.”

“Think she’s a Sidhe?” He frowned.

“No idea. The doctors haven’t told me a damn thing yet, what with being shoved aside by anxious government types.” I gave him a look. “I bet they’d know if she gained the sensitivities I’ve heard about. She didn’t before, as you well know - but that damn spell had an effect on her. A large one. She’s going to be very scared.”

“You seem to be handling things alright, all things considered.”

“Me?” I shook my head. “I haven’t had time to freak out yet. Or even see what I look like.” A thought occurred to me. “Wait a minute, how come you were only five hours away? Weren’t you in London as a liaison for something?”

“Got reassigned, and was on my way back when I got the call about Los Angeles.” I could tell there was more he wasn’t saying, but I wasn’t going to push - at least not for now. “Hey I have an idea,” he said quickly. “How ‘bout I go see her first? You know, try and ease her into all of what’s happened? Think that’ll help?”

“That…that’s a fantastic idea.” I smiled warmly up at him, feeling relief from at least some of my inner tension. “That’d mean a lot to me, Mark. I’m really glad you’re here.” I actually was quite happy he had made it, in fact both Danielle and I were quite lucky that he had. And not just because of him being a potential buffer against the MCO and other agencies, but because he really was a solid stand-up kind of guy. Caroline would often tease him about it, but right now I was thankful.

Instead of smiling back at me though, he just looked flustered and sharply stood up. “I uhh, I’ll just go check on her then. I’ll be back later to let you know how it goes.”

And with that, he rapidly walked on out. What the hell was up with all the people retreating so quickly from my room? First the nurse, then the doctor, and now Mark. Did I really need to shower that badly? Sheesh!

 

~o~O~o~

 

I sat there alone for a good ten minutes wondering if I should take offense, before realizing all I was doing was mentally postponing the inevitable. I needed to march to the restroom and face my new self properly, along with all the new plumbing it apparently had acquired. Forcing myself up I headed to the restroom, closing the door behind me. I muttered a curse that there wasn’t a lock on it. I really didn’t want to be interrupted for this.

Deciding that the best way to do it would be to just go for the full reveal, I pulled the string on the back of the flimsy paper-like gown and let it fall to the floor. I then turned to the mirror.

I don’t know what I expected, all I can say is this wasn’t it. But no, my jaw didn’t fall to the floor - if it tried my new cleavage likely would have caught it.

Yes, I was, in a word, built. Or stacked. Or hawt. Or…look, you get the idea. Also young, definitely in the fourteen to sixteen years of age range, but clearly a girl who had an early growth spurt of both height and, well, other dimensions. Curvy ones.

I’ll try to start with the face. Prominent cheekbones oversaw a triangular chin while framing a slender and elegant nose. But unlike pictures of fae women that I had seen, the features weren’t overly angular - instead they were soft in all the right places. Hair fell to the middle of the back as a wave of deep crimson, longer than my old hair had ever attained. The red had golden metallic highlights swimming throughout. I reached up and touched a few strands, expecting a wiry texture and was surprised at how light and silky it felt instead.

I tossed my head to the side just to watch that hair flow and bounce with an almost supernatural grace. Said motion also caused other prominent assets to jiggle as well.

Whoa. That felt weird.

The figure wasn’t an exaggerated hourglass, it was more slender yet still curved proportionately. I figured the height to be about the same as I was before so somewhere around five-foot-ten, and the legs definitely stretched down lengthwise to provide that height. The chest’s additions could be described as a ‘nice handful’ with some extra to spare. The whole body was well conditioned - movement revealed taut muscle under the softer skin. The stomach was smooth yet nicely toned.

As for the nether regions, I’ll just say that they contained a perfectly good example of female anatomy, along with a small patch of reddish-gold hair. I saw that other than that patch below, the arms and legs only had a very light layer of pale hair which wouldn’t even be noticeable unless one looked rather closely.

What struck me the most, causing me to lean in closer to the mirror for closer examination, were the eyes.

Gone were my old hazels in their entirety. Instead these irises were rings of shining gold, flecked with a scattering of silver throughout. They were immediately striking.

Not to mention inhuman.

I think that’s what caught me. I had seen my niece have to deal with the pain of people’s prejudices - classmates teasing her, teachers treating her badly, and of course abandonment by her own father. She actually hadn’t had any obvious marks on her, only the ability to heal rather quickly. It didn’t matter though, she had that damnable MID card and all the stigma that went with it.

Now, undoubtedly, I’d need to get one too - and deal with all those consequences myself.

Like losing my job.

I worked on software for medical databases country-wide. Several states had passed laws forbidding mutants (or metas) from having access to such information. This was in response to some villains having misused medical systems in rather unpleasant and deadly ways. Even if California hadn’t gone that route with its own laws, my contract had a strict ‘no mutant/meta’ clause. I had needed to jump through ridiculous bureaucratic hoops to keep my position just with having Danielle move in with me.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. But my job was toast. Automatically and with no possible appeal.

Shit.

I felt my anger build as my thoughts spun back to the previous night. Fixating on Soren and his nefarious plan, his fuckup in kidnapping my niece, her brush with death, MY brush with death, and now this: unemployment for me with Danielle now having to suffer more torment in school and life due to her even more obvious mutant manifestation.

Frustration and rebellion rose mightily within, gaining strength as all my other inner pains fueled the powerful tempest, until it finally flashed upon the cursed cancer that took Caroline from the world. From all her dreams. From me.

A girl’s hands became fists and I saw my golden wedding band was missing. Memory conjured an image of the precious ring wrapping around a finger made of light while the gold boiled upwards into the maelstrom of Soren’s spell, lost forever.

With a shout of fury and loss I punched the mirror - putting a hole not just into the perverted reflection but through the wall beyond. On impact I felt the rage drain into overwhelming sorrow, leaving me collapsed on the floor sobbing with uncontrollable tears.

Irene found me still on the bathroom floor crying, and after carefully getting me back into the gown led me quietly back to my bed.

My room was dark as she must have turned the lights off, and I lay there for a bit without sleeping or even thinking. My mind had retreated leaving behind only an empty wasteland.

I did eventually wonder if someone in another room or another floor was playing music. I could just make out the impression of a distant melody. Wherever it was, it was actually rather soothing so I slowly let it carry me away.

 

Chapter Three - Counseling

 

My quiet reverie was broken by an orderly dropping off dinner. He plonked the plastic tray on the rolling bedside table before scurrying on out of my room. He didn’t even give me a chance to say thanks, just hustled right out. Nor did he turn the lights back on.

Seemed like a trend. Although I might have been nervous too around a mutant that puts holes through walls when upset. Crap.

The tray he left behind didn’t smell all that great but it did give off an aroma that was at least food-like. Removal of the lid revealed some overcooked beef smothered in some sort of brown sauce all ladled upon instant goopy potatoes. To complement this fine culinary centerpiece were mushy cooked carrots and, oh joy, green jello. Party on a plate.

Appetizing or not, I found I was starving and ate it anyway. Yes, even the jello.

Once I was done, a male night nurse came in and told me that they needed to move me into a new room. So, you know, they could repair the damage I had inflicted on the bathroom wall and clean up the shards of glass properly. I wondered if my health insurance would cover ‘traumatic outbursts’ damages. Probably not.

I didn’t protest having to move, though I did wrap myself with the blanket before going down the hall with the guy. The damn hospital gown was far too revealing, especially in the backside. Therefore I decided that until someone brought me some real clothes, me and that blanket were going to be great friends. He ushered me down the hall quickly, which suited me fine. On the way I noticed a couple of the overhead fluorescents had burned out and a few more were being rather flickery, all of which resulted in the hallway being a bit dimmer than usual for a hospital ward.

That was fine too - I really wasn’t ready to be gawked at by other people.

Mark arrived again not too long after I got resettled. He said he wanted to talk to my doctor in more detail and also that he still had a lot of paperwork to deal with so he didn’t stay long. As he didn’t mention my attempt to escape into the hallway without using the door I decided not to either. That might have been the source of the extra paperwork, though. Oops.

In the time since we last spoke, however, he had managed to see Danielle and fill her in on what happened: her kidnapping, Soren’s magic, and her uncle trying to foolishly play hero and as a result becoming her aunt instead - one who now would most likely get carded trying to see an ‘R’-rated movie.

The conversation apparently hadn’t gone all that well, which is what I had been afraid of. She had fallen into tears (seems to be yet another trend of the day), and then refused to talk to him any further, telling him to ‘just go away’. The hospital was going to send in a counselor to try and help.

They also were going to get one to talk to me after Mark and I were done with our own little chat -likely prompted by my previous room’s new bathroom-to-hallway ventilation feature. Not to mention the small bandages Irene had placed on my hand thanks to the mirror’s kindly donated cuts it had bequeathed in its last will and testament to be rendered unto its destroyer. Mark said they wanted me to talk to a counselor before trying to see Danielle - with a strong hint that unless the counselor decided I was stable enough, they’d deny me visitation. I think he was afraid I would be stubborn on principle in hearing this, but after my outburst I wasn’t exactly confident that I was managing things well either. So I nodded in quiet acceptance, and in so doing I may have caused Mark to worry about me even more. I just couldn’t win. He did bring me a pair of sweatpants and matching DPA sweatshirt to change into, thank God. I could have given him a hug for that, but when I had the thought to do so he got really awkward and muttered about needing to get to those reports.

He even let me say ‘see ya later!’ before he took off this time. Small victories, I’ll take ‘em! I wasted no time in getting into the sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt.

The counselor lady came in only after a few minutes. She shut the door and took a seat in the chair by my bed without saying even so much as a greeting. Forcing myself to try and be good, I didn’t say anything snarky to her - just sat up on the bed and hugged my knees into my chest. Which didn’t totally feel weird and remind me of changed things, nope, not at all.

She sat quietly while just watching me for what seemed like several minutes, giving me plenty of time to study her appearance in return. Her hair was a dark brown and pulled into a functional ponytail, and she had lightweight transparent-framed glasses perching a little too low on her nose. A simple white blouse tucked into a beige skirt was the highlight of her wardrobe choices. No wedding band on her finger, and how she had crossed the room to sit down near me with purposeful grace did make me think she’d had some kind of training in either ballet or martial arts.

Her manner and steady gaze was slowly growing more intimidating which started to creep me out. I felt like I was a specimen she was examining in detail. And then I realized that, yep, to her I probably was. Great.

I had to break that uncomfortable silence. “So uhh, isn’t this where you ask me how I’m doing?” I wanted it to seem more jovial, but nope, I just sounded awfully nervous.

She smiled as she replied - something I wasn’t expecting. It was a pretty smile, reaching up to touch her eyes. “I think we both know the answer to that. As does maintenance.”

I winced. “Right.”

“Though I’ve seen worse reactions.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “Mmmhmm. One little bathroom wall is nothing really. Guy I met once found himself manifesting as a seven-foot tall stone golem when his abilities activated. He somehow woke up - like you, in a hospital - and decided he was stuck in the middle of a nightmare.” She paused.

“So what did he do?” I prompted, as she clearly was expecting me to.

“He left, hoping it would wake him from the bad dream. By virtue of plowing through the wall of his room, through the nurse’s station across the hallway, through another room on the other side, and right through the building’s outer wall - falling six stories as a result.”

“Holy heck. He survive?”

“He was made of stone,” she said flatly. “He hit the ground and kept running right on out of the impact crater. A team followed the debris trail for five miles before they caught up to him. Exemplar four, if I recall correctly.”

“Dang. Okay, I’ll admit, you’ve got me there. One wall really doesn’t seem so bad in comparison.”

“He also had formerly been a six year old girl named Kelly.” She watched my face closely as she said that.

I sighed, resting my cheek on a covered knee. “Ouch.”

“Speaking of names, mine is Natalie. Natalie Usher.”

“Hi. I am, or was, Justin Thorne. But you know that already.”

“Mmm, yes.” She nodded, smiling at me again. “I must say, considering other transformation cases I’ve seen, you didn’t turn out that badly. If I wasn’t doing my best professional impression, I’d be jealous. You’re gorgeous. And you have a chance for a fresh start.”

I frowned, even as I felt my face flush. “You’re laying the ‘it could be worse’ spiel on a bit thick, don’t you think?”

“From what I’ve heard about you from Agent Boone and others, you’re an engineer - one who prizes facts above ‘bullcrap’, right? So I thought I’d start there, because honestly it could have been worse. A lot worse. You could be dead. And from the reports, you not just could be dead but by all rights should be.”

“Dying is easy,” I growled - or rather tried to growl; this new voice sounded sulky and maybe petulant. Dammit.

“Tell me, Justin - how are your emotions doing? But try not to just react to the question. Think it over first.”

My mouth had opened to give a rude reply along the lines of ‘how do you think, lady?’, but my brain kicked in at the last second.

In truth, how was I really doing? I looked at her, her ice-blue eyes examining me from behind her glasses - cool, calm, and rational - and tried to focus on myself the same way.

I thought through the evening so far, and how I’d been feeling since I woke up having to use restrooms designed for the other half of the species for what was probably going to be the rest of my life.

“Honest assessment? I think I’m a mess,” I sighed.

“How so?”

Closing my eyes, I replayed the scenes.

“I let myself get overly frustrated with the agents - especially the one who was trying to provoke such a reaction so she could justify her own prejudices. If Mark hadn’t arrived right when he did, I might have said - or done - something truly stupid. It’s not like me to get so easily rattled.”

“Okay, go on.”

“Old griefs feel fresh and raw and there’s a low-level of panic lurking under the surface. Also buried in there is rage. A lot of it.”

She spoke softly yet clearly. “Your body appears to have regenerated to a state of youth, this may have an impact on your brain’s thinking process. Mix that with the dramatically new hormones it now has to contend with, and I’d have to assess that such things are not only likely but to be absolutely expected. Understand that the hormone effect works both ways - male to female effects, and female to male effects. They’re just different and every gender-shifter has to deal with it - and unlike most that have transitioned - or transformed - you’ve been plunged into the deep end overnight.”

I pondered, but shook my head. “Yeah, I get that - but these emotional extremes so far seem a bit, well…more extreme. Hard to quantify, though, on only a few hours worth of experience.”

“Emotions generally are difficult to measure. But I need you to remember this and if possible, exert more control over them. In your case this may be especially necessary.”

“Uh, how so?”

“Because, Justin, we still have no idea what you are capable of. And neither do you.”

“Putting a hole in one wall isn’t all that special. I’ve seen heroes on the news punch through reinforced steel.”

“True. But blowing out a good number of the lights in the hallway, along with frying the computers at the nurses’ station is something that I would classify as a ‘cause for concern’, wouldn’t you?”

Oh shit. The lights in the hall and in my old room being out, that was me? “Jesus, they sent you in here to see if I’m dangerous, didn’t they? You’re not really with the hospital.”

I tried to see if I could spot a gun on her, but if she had one it was well hidden.

“No, I’m not with the hospital. I’m a psychotherapist with the DPA, specializing in mutant or super-human cases. Including the effects of dramatic transformations.”

“What about Danielle? Mark said she’s having issues possibly worse than I am.”

“I’d like you to try, if you can, to not worry about Danielle right at this moment,” she said gently. “I will be visiting with her next, though with a very different approach, of course. Our first priority, however, is to make sure you and her are up to being moved to our facilities, where we can do our best to assist you both.”

“That sounds expensive,” I muttered. Of course, for Danielle, I’d pay anything needed. But still, without my job all the bills that we must be racking up were going to destroy my savings. I could feel an emptiness of despair opening up in the bottom of my stomach, and my eyes began to fill with tears yet again.

“The government is providing, Mister Thorne,” she said abruptly. The emphasis on ‘Mister’, a title that was now lost to me, was rude - caused me a flash of irritation. But while caught between the conflicting sides of anger versus despair, I realized she did it deliberately to try and forfend the deeper depressive shift which had started to build. She was playing one mood swing against the other, and trying to see if I’d manage to thread the needle and stay stable.

Wow, she was good at this. She even perceived the moment I figured it out - I could tell from how her eyes crinkled with approval when I got it.

“Focus on yourself for now, Justin,” she advised. “Your niece will need you as calm as possible when she feels ready to talk and finally sees for herself what’s happened to you. That may be tonight, or tomorrow, or even longer depending. My hopes are for you to see her sooner rather than later, to prevent her own fears - and yours - from having time to fester and grow. Make sense?”

“Okay.” I nodded. “I can try to do that. So are we in ‘protective custody’?”

“In more ways than one. Our agents are still trying to determine Callas Soren’s motives and agenda, so there is obvious concern he may try something with your niece or even you again.”

“That’s only one way. What else is there?”

“Until your powers are determined and measured, we need to be ready to potentially protect the public from you and the effects Soren’s spell has had on you. That also goes for Danielle.”

“I know she’s had a cosmetic transformation to how she looks, but has that affected her powers too?”

“I’ve been told to wear a coat before going in to see her. It’s been snowing in her room.”

The day just kept on giving.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Natalie really was quite adept at her job. After they had me spending an hour or two trying to work with a sketch artist to get on paper some of the symbols I had glimpsed while at the storage unit, I was surprised when Natalie returned and said I should go with her to see Danielle.

Danielle had, like me, also needed a new room. Her old one, it seems, was ‘snowed in’.

I tried to fight off all the butterflies constructing cathedral sized nests in my stomach while we approached her room. When we went in Danielle was sitting by a window and staring outside, one palm placed against the glass. Her darker hair was gone, as I had seen happen the previous night. In its place were these sheets of snow-white that cascaded down along her back in gentle waves. I had to blink and catch myself, because for a second I could have sworn it was all slowly drifting as if some ethereal wind was relaxing her tresses downward towards the earth. Her face, caught in profile, had lost any remnants of childhood softness. Her chin and cheeks had become angular and sharp - yet she was also quite stunningly beautiful in the midst of that severeness. Her eyes, once a bright sky-blue, now glistened with a translucency hinting at bluer waters buried underneath a frozen shell of ice.

But her lost and worried expression as she chewed at her lip, that was all Danielle’s. I had seen it at her mother’s funeral, and I saw it clearly again now. My heart began to shatter into pieces all over again, just as it had then.

Without a thought I spoke the same words to her I had given only a month ago when the services for her mother, my sister Helena, finally concluded. “Don’t worry, hon. We’ll face whatever comes together. Always and forever.”

She swung about abruptly to glare at this strange red-haired teenage girl who had just intruded on her private reverie, but my words sank in and her hand flew to cover her mouth in shock.

“Uncle?”

“Yeah, hon. It’s me.”

She was across the room and into my arms, squeezing me tight with arms much stronger than either of us were used to. I didn’t mind at all.

We both started the waterworks again. I didn’t mind that either.

“They told me the spell had changed you, but…” She was shaking, there within my arms.

“Only on the outside, kiddo. Inside here it’s still me.”

She choked a sob and her knees must have gone out as I found myself having to hold her upright.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod. It’s all my fault; I’m so sorry, so sorry, it’s because of me, because of me…”

“Whoa, whoa!” I leaned her back gently, noting that she also had gained a few inches in height. “Don’t you go blaming yourself for this, kiddo!”

“But he was after me, because I’m a mutant, and you came after me, and they said you pulled me out, and the spell hit you, and now you’re like this, and Mark said it’s likely permanent, and…” The temperature in the room fell rapidly, trying to freeze the tears on my cheeks. Small snowflakes appeared and began to twirl around the two of us. Uh oh.

“Danielle!” I said firmly, intending a ‘fatherly’ tone - but what came out sounded more like my sister when she had actually summoned the courage to be assertive. I think the similarity shocked us both.

I swallowed. “Right, none of that. You are not in any way to blame for this. None. You hear me?”

She hesitantly nodded.

“All the blame lies squarely on the man who did this,” I continued, watching as more ice crystals formed in the air. “He kidnapped you, he strapped you to that chair, he cast that spell that did all this to both of us. We are the victims of his schemes, alright? And he even got his machinations wrong. He thought you were something you aren’t, which is why everything went sideways.”

“But, but, I am a mutant. I caused this…”

“Hush! A mutant, yes. But not the flavor he was looking for. And no, I don’t know the details of what he was after - and the guy who might be able to figure that out dropped us off at the hospital, got some bandages, and then fled the scene. Men, huh? What are us girls going to do?” I forced a cheesy grin.

She gaped at me, and I mentally chanted "c’mon, c’mon, it’s funny, please…". She started to giggle as she gazed at my appearance, finding the humor in the ridiculousness of it all. I chuckled and joined in myself. We stood there while our growing laughter washed away our mutual worries that we could have lost the other. I even emitted a rather girlish giggle-snort, which just got us both going even harder.

The air in the room started to warm up. Natalie, who had stayed quiet to monitor the entire thing, nodded at me with silent approval.

Danielle gave me another squeeze before whispering quietly into my shoulder, “Always and forever.”

I just held her tight, vowing to never let go.

 

Chapter Four - Investigation

 

It was passing midnight when Director Elliot Goodman arrived at the ‘We Hoard It 4 Less’ self-storage facility. The LAPD had blocked off the entire building, and two FBI crime-scene investigation vans sat in the middle of all the blue and red lights that swirled frenetically about the parking lot.

Climbing out of his standard-issue Ford Explorer, Goodman ran a hand across day-old stubble. His mustache needed a trim as well with the way it kept brushing his lower lip. As the Director of the Los Angeles division of the DPA, he had not managed to get more than two hours of sleep since the chaos of the previous night had swept over the city. DPA agents from San Diego, San Fransisco, even Las Vegas and Phoenix, had all flown or driven in to assist the tremendous number of investigations. The fear from headquarters in Washington D.C. was palpable: was this just a first wave of some kind of coordinated paranormal terrorist attack?

Unfortunately Director Goodman did not currently have a good answer to that question.

Waving his identification in front of the LAPD guarding the entrance, he moved quickly inside. The small front lobby had been turned into a command center of sorts. The furniture had all been shoved aside and folding tables and chairs were brought in so the various specialists could set up their equipment. Odd looking technological devices that looked like they had been pulled straight off Hollywood sci-fi movie sets were sitting side-by-side with bronze and gold artifacts that should have been safely ensconced in museum displays.

This was not a normal case by any organization’s standards.

Against one wall was a corkboard with various sheets of oddly sized paper pinned to it at random. Blue and black inked tabulated scribbles of diagrams, sigils, and ancient writings comprised most of them, but mixed in were photographs taken from different units within the building.

Standing in front of this display was the man Goodman came to see. He was shorter but dressed in similar black slacks and buttoned white shirt, although his shirt’s sleeves were rolled up and the man’s hands were covered with gauze bandages. He was staring at the wall’s layout in intense concentration, not noticing as Goodman walked up.

The Director had to clear his throat to get the man’s attention. “Nick Wright.”

It took a moment for Nick’s eyes to refocus. “Oh. Hey there Elliot.”

Goodman’s jaw clenched. He had orders to work with the man, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “I need your briefing on what you’ve figured out here. Washington expects a report on each individual incident that occurred within the hour. This site is the last one on my list.”

“Ah, right, sure. Gum?” Nick reached into a pocket and using the tips of his second and third fingers managed to pull out a foil-wrapped stick.

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Nick said with a shrug. Trying to unwrap it with just the fingertips between his two bandaged hands was clearly not working; Goodman grabbed the gum impatiently, unwrapped it, and handed it back. Smiling in thanks, Nick popped the prize into his mouth and started to chew loudly. He motioned for them both to sit on a couple of the uncomfortable metal folding chairs.

The Director took a seat. He would have stood to tower over the other man, but exhaustion was catching up.

Nick, after a moment of careful consideration, spoke up. “Have you ever been to the Western Wall in Jerusalem or the Temple Mount itself? No? How about the Temple of Apollo at Delphi? What about Machu Pichu? Stonehenge?”

Goodman nodded at the last one.

“Right,” Nick continued. “I don’t know if you’re a sensitive or not, but those places are just different. Vibrant. Holy. Special.”

“I’ve read the analyses of such sites and how they seem to be founts or channels of various mystical energies that affect their surrounding areas.”

“Oh. Good. Then I can summarize things easily: you’re standing on a new one.”

The Director stared. “You will need to expand on that a bit. As I understand it, that should be impossible.”

Nick laughed tiredly. “It’s taken all day, and probably sixty search warrants, to put it all together.”

“Sixty warrants?” Goodman blanched with surprise.

“The FBI took care of it. We had to open every unit on that floor, plus a cluster of ones on the floors below. Each was registered under a different name, and on different days over the past three years.”

“With what probable cause?” Inwardly the Director was groaning, the last thing he needed were legal issues over such a blanket search.

“Our equipment linked them all to the ritual Soren did upstairs. The energy patterns outside indicated each of those units as being involved, and our suspicions were confirmed when we finally got them open. Your boys refused to go in without warrants, so I had the FBI help with the paperwork and find a judge with an enduring signing hand.”

Goodman looked back at the board. “You’re telling me that this ritual had been carefully set up over three years?” He felt his stomach sink at the implications.

Nick nodded. “Exactly. All those units have been painstakingly warded and well prepared for what Callas triggered last night. Look at the pictures - each unit was covered on the floor, walls, and ceiling with specifically cast circles and resonances, all linked to support something huge at the focus. The calculations and meticulousness required for it all really hurts my head. Especially as even with what we’ve been able to analyze, the energy level and after-effects are way beyond what they should have been. It doesn’t add up - our numbers are off by a two to three orders of magnitude. Because you’re right, such a thing should be impossible. But our energy readings are clear: it was indeed possible because it happened.”

The Director thought furiously. “Can this spell be repeated, is there a continuing threat?”

“No. That’s just it, whatever Soren was after he likely had one shot at it. We think he may have used several ancient relics to help fuel his spell, and they were likely destroyed in the process. Residue found in a couple of the units show evidence of this. Those kinds of things are extremely hard to find, let alone replace. It’s astounding - he managed to forge a brand new node of energy here somehow, one with Biblical resonance. This place is a new holy site, Elliot. And by the way, people are going to subconsciously or consciously start flocking to it. The LAPD has already had to turn away a small number of unstable sensitives throughout the day.”

Goodman put a hand to his forehead and asked, “If that was his goal, why did he kidnap Danielle Thorne? And why do it here and not somewhere remote where he could keep this new font or whatever for his own purposes?”

Nick chomped on his gum for a moment. “That’s just it. It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense: not the setup here nor the taking of the young girl.” He stood and began pacing in front of all the pictures and diagrams. “According to your agents, she only arrived here a few weeks ago due to an accident that claimed her mother’s life. But this was clearly all in the works for years.”

“Your initial report indicated he had made a mistake, that she was of the Fae and not, as you put it, ‘properly aligned for the spell’. That the ritual was killing her and when you arrived it was rapidly doing so.”

Crossing wounded hands over his chest, Nick growled. “Yeah, and then I finally got to thinking clearly. I had sensors all over the city scanning for his signatures, yet we spent hours trying to track down Danielle - something my little device succeeded at. It shouldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

“Look!” Nick jutted his chin towards the board. “Wards were in place for all those units - but the one we found the two of them in didn’t have anything to block me from finding her. That son-of-a-bitch counted on me to track them down!”

The Director had a bad feeling. “He wanted you to find him?”

“Yes! And more than that, he wanted no other agents to interfere. I’d bet your annual salary that the entire reason for all the ruckus across the city was to keep each and every one of your boys so busy that even if I had wanted backup there wouldn’t be any available. And it gets worse still.”

“How?”

“Justin Thorne. Callas set him up. Three years of planning, Elliot. They weren’t chosen at random. He knew Danielle was Fae - I’ve been studying the runes on the back of that chair she sat on, all of which were out of my line of sight from the unit’s entrance. They were protecting her from his spell in a way specifically attuned to Fae essence. And protecting the chair itself, for that matter. It couldn’t do it completely, but did enough. He also didn’t take her by simply holding a gun at her and forcing her into a warded van ala After-School-Special-Style. No, instead he used magic - loud magic - to whisk her up and away from their home to here. He was laying out a trail through the sky for me to follow if necessary. I didn’t need it, but it was there.”

Nick paused, letting that sink in before adding, “Callas knows I would charge in without any help from your distracted agency because he understands me too well. He knows my history and how I react to things. I bet you he’s also been watching Justin Thorne for ages and knew with a certainty that Justin wouldn’t let me go alone to save his niece.”

The Director frowned. “Wait a minute. If he wanted Mr. Thorne to be here, and if his niece was simply the bait, then the whole ritual was…some kind of trap for Mr. Thorne? Your report said you yourself were unable to enter, and that Soren knew that would be the case.”

“The energy levels were too high. He opened a fount to, well, to put it bluntly he opened a portal to reach towards God. A purest source of the divine. The kind of energies that could have bathed the Ark of the Covenant, ones that required the priests to be cleansed, purified, and protected by their own constant rituals. Sticking a part of myself into a live channel like that was actually damn stupid. I’m lucky to still have my hands. For anyone going in there it would be similar to walking into the center of the sun.”

“You say the niece had protection due to the warded chair, but yet Mr. Thorne made it both in and out of there alive - albeit undergoing a significant transformation.”

“Yes. He just flared brightly, and morphed into a young woman.” Nick blinked. “Wait a minute, our information on Callas indicated he came to Los Angeles searching for just that - a ‘young woman’. Justin fits the bill - at least she certainly does now.”

“I don’t follow. You’re saying he knew what would happen to Mr. Thorne?”

“Exactly! Justin’s survival is simply crazy and his transformation is crazier. But while Callas knows me all too well, I also know him. He never leaves a single thing to chance if he can help it. I’d lay good odds that our information on his activities here in town got deliberately leaked to us just so that I’d be here - he’d know your agency would require my expertise to deal with him.”

“So why not just kidnap the man directly, put him in the circle, and not involve you - or the rest of the city for that matter?”

Nick leaned against the wall.

“I don’t know. The setup here was obviously important somehow, but maybe I’m just too tired to see it. For all we can guess maybe it’s due to some crazy prophecy he read in one of his obscure and ancient tomes - the ones written by drug-addicted wackos. Who knows? If we could determine that, if we understood the why of it, maybe it’d make sense of the rest and our numbers would add up properly. Justin has to be the key, of this I’m sure. But how? And Elliot…”

“What?”

“Whatever Justin is, or was, to make it through the energies like that? He, sorry, she won’t be human anymore. Callas went through incredible trouble to unleash whatever she is. You need to keep her safe as well as monitor her carefully.”

“Why? What do you think she can do?”

“I really have no idea. Maybe someday she’ll start an entirely new religion. Test her and assign a squad to watch over her just in case.”

Goodman firmly shook his head in the negative. “I don’t have the agents. Even with the extra help from other divisions, there are too many paranormal strings to chase down. The priority straight from Washington is to concentrate focus on the perpetrators of that mana bomb downtown. If we hadn’t defused it, the damage and death toll could have been truly catastrophic. Your two victims have two of my agents assigned to watch over them. That will have to do.”

Nick scowled at the still-seated Director. “That bomb likely was designed specifically to be defused. That’s a sideshow, a distraction. Don’t let Callas succeed in knocking your attention away from what matters!”

“Tell that to a President who is worried about the thousands of potential lives lost! You want more agents to cover one teenager and one unfortunately forced transgender software nerd? Then bring me proof that Soren was behind all of it. And that proof better be undeniably ironclad.”

“You know damn well he covers his tracks more thoroughly than even crazy Mossad agents, what with all the behind-the-scenes deal-makings he does. Finding that kind of proof could take the next five years!”

The Director spoke sharply as he stood up.

“Then you better get started.”

 

 

Into The Light (Part 2 of 6)

by Erisian

 

 

Chapter Five - Homeward

 

As Danielle and I seemed physically fine, Mark pushed to get us released from the hospital the next day. Dr. Kirov however kept trying to make excuses for us both to stay longer. Apparently Danielle’s blood would simply dissipate after a few minutes once collected, and my own blood was described as ‘exceptionally and unusually clean’ - without any proper explanation of what they meant by that.

His argument had mostly to do with the potential risks of burnout after manifestations, but neither of us exhibited any symptoms so the doctor had a hard time making it sound persuasive. Especially seeing how they weren’t finding any mutation markers in my DNA which meant I was a meta-human of some kind, and Danielle had originally manifested her mutation ten years ago.

Still, he did force us each into an ‘enhanced’ MRI scanner which not only was loud and uncomfortable, but had these weird multi-colored ‘magical energy’ crystals adorning it that were supposed to do some kind of resonance scan. The damn thing made me nauseous - I was told that was normal after I got out. Whatever the results of it all had been, they weren’t anything medical that would prevent us from traveling to a different facility. Mark even tried to reassure Dr. Kirov that the DPA facility had a full medical staff and emergency equipment in case anything happened.

It wasn’t until the afternoon that I’d finally had enough and carried through on my threat to call a lawyer. They may have thought I was bluffing earlier when I had mentioned it, but Isaiah, my best friend of many years, was an attorney and I had planned on calling him soon anyway.

As my own phone had disappeared along with everything else that was on me when I charged into that storage unit, I made Mark use his government issued one to dial my friend’s number and leave the message when Isaiah (as usual) didn’t answer. The staff nurse who was assisting Dr. Kirov (and most likely was trying to make sure we had no grounds for any lawsuits against the hospital) visibly paled listening to Mark’s ‘official capacity’ voicemail. The papers appeared rather quickly at that point. Who needs powers testing or training to know how to perform magic? One government official, one attorney, one phone and…voila! Of course, the papers were marked ‘released against medical advice’ so the hospital could continue covering their posteriors legally.

After our release was settled, Mark and I then got into an argument that lasted all the way out into the parking lot. He wanted to get both us ‘ladies’ to his ‘secure site’ for testing and safety. With all the chaos in the greater city area, he only had one other agent assigned to watch over us - a fact that clearly made him nervous. After getting out of him that we would likely be staying at this site of his for at least a week if not more, I demanded we first stop by my house. One - Danielle needed whatever of her own clothes which might still fit her, two - we needed to get my cat and supplies for him because I was not leaving him there alone, and three - I needed copies of my legal papers so I could try and deal with the incoming bureaucratic storm of providing official documentation of who I was that was certain to follow.

Mark argued we should just send the other assigned agent to collect the clothes and the papers, and have him just feed Khan for now. Yeah, no. My cat was going with me before he too was swept up and away in some kind of magical tornado. And as my legal papers were in my fireproof safe, I stubbornly refused to give up the combination. Mark tried to claim Khan wouldn’t be allowed inside the facility and other such nonsense objections, but he eventually relented against my firm intransigence.

Granted, my voice may have started to quiver while a few tears built up in my eyes as part of my negotiating technique. Danielle had used that devastating maneuver successfully against me on more than a few occasions and I was curious if I could now pull it off too. Worked like a charm! Mark absolutely deserved it, especially after a cheap-shot comment muttered under his breath that I was ‘behaving like a child’. Not cool.

When he eventually admitted defeat I felt guilty, wondering if I was taking my frustrations out on him. Nah. Well, okay, maybe I was. A little. But too many bad memories of previous hospital rooms prevented me from getting much sleep the night before. I stayed with my wife night after night in room after same room while we slowly watched her disease destroy her body piece by piece. And there I had been, in yet another hospital bed, except now I was alone and she was gone.

The short dreams whenever I managed to drift off had all been of Danielle being stuck in that damn storage unit, but this time she screamed in agony as that energy maelstrom dissolved her into nothingness before I could get her out.

So yeah, I hadn’t gotten much sleep and after giving the doctor grief, I admit I may have also been slightly unreasonable with Mark. Eh, he’ll get over it.

He did, however, insist on sending Danielle directly to their facility in a separate car with the other agent, a man named Jeffrey. Jeffrey had wisely and patiently stayed quiet as we both made idiots of ourselves with our loud and heated debate.

I grudgingly agreed to this which prompted Danielle to rattle off a huge list of things she wanted from the house. After the twentieth item I stopped her, reminding her it was only for maybe a week, and if she could just text me the list of real necessities I might have a better chance of remembering it all - let alone finding them amongst her things. Her room had been a total disaster even before Soren’s tornado hit, and that was after she had only been there for less than a month!

What was weird was that when I tried to think about it, I could remember each item she had rapidly listed with unusual clarity. I decided not to mention that, she might add more.

Thing is, I really didn’t like the idea of leaving Danielle even if it was just for a few hours, so as we were about to climb into the two parked SUVs I paused and prepared to start arguing again. Before I could say anything, she gave me a loud sigh and roll of her eyes. “I’ll be fine! Sheesh!” She quickly hopped into the second car and slammed the door shut. Jeffrey gave me a smile and a shrug. He was taller than Mark, and obviously hit the gym a lot more than casually - his suit jacket strained against his arms and chest. I noticed Danielle was also intently studying his physique from her front passenger seat as he walked around to the driver’s side.

Ah, ok. Right.

“He’ll take good care of her, don’t worry,” Mark said quietly to me.

“He better,” I growled as I got into Mark’s vehicle. My new voice admittedly didn’t sound as intimidating as it should so the desired effect fell kinda flat. I sank into my seat, kept my arms crossed under the new fluffy protrusions that lay below the sweatshirt, and sulked for most of the ride through traffic towards Santa Monica.

 

~o~O~o~

 

After what seemed an eternity of bumper-to-bumper cars impeding our progress, I finally broke the silence we had maintained since pulling out of the hospital parking lot.

“Alright, Mark. We’re no longer going to be overheard by anyone and traffic is going to take awhile. So tell me: just who the hell is Callas Soren? And for that matter who is Nick Wright? Considering how they’ve both managed to turn my life upside-down, I think I deserve to know.”

He frowned and his knuckles went white on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to tell you, to be honest. Plus there is a lot that I don’t know myself.”

I sighed, reaching up to push another stray reddish-gold strand out of my face again. Unlike my old hair which behaved itself when in a ponytail, this new silkiness was proving to be an adept escape artist from hair scrunchies. It may be pretty and all, but it was annoying.

“Then let’s keep to generalities,” I said. “I just need an overview of the larger picture so I can wrap my head around things. Like maybe what to expect at this site you’re taking us to. I know powers testing only takes a day; Danielle told me about the procedure when she went through it the first time and again when she was thirteen and her, uh, ‘monthly visitor’ began so they wanted to retest.” I groaned loudly at that thought. “Oh god, I guess I will have to deal with those myself now, too. Great.”

He winced in sympathy, casting a sideways gaze in my direction as if debating with himself. He was having a hard time reacting to me as he would have to my old self with the way I looked and sounded now, that much was obvious. My cheating fake crying drama-scene in the parking lot probably hadn’t helped either.

So I had to remind him again.

“Dammit, man, it’s me in here. I may look like a young innocent goddess, but under this skin is a cranky forty-year-old guy who has to figure out how best to take care of everything due to this mess. Give me some damn data to work with. And keep your eyes on the road and off my boobs while you’re at it!”

Holy cow, he totally blushed and spluttered at that. Had he actually just been checking me out? I had said it intending to be funny, but now I turned my face away to the window in embarrassment.

It took awhile for our mutual awkwardness to fade, but he eventually cleared his throat.

“Uh, okay. Your questions. Callas Soren is a major figure in the mystic underworld. We don’t have enough details on him, other than suspicion that he is much, much older than he looks and has used various names throughout the ages.”

“He some kind of vampire?” I asked incredulously.

Mark shook his head. “No, not that we know of. Something magical sustains his life, but nothing like that. From what I’m told he’s probably the world’s foremost expert on Demonology, spiritual dimensional planes, and other lore that is best left buried.”

“So what’s he after? What has he done with his knowledge and powers, other than to extend his life?”

“He makes deals, one of his aliases is the ‘Dealmaker’.”

That certainly didn’t sound nebulously nefarious, nope not at all. “With who, and for what?”

“According to sources it’s random. A major practitioner will be researching a topic, and Soren will just show up with a tome specific to their need - usually an item long thought lost, or that no one even knew existed. And he’ll offer a deal to give the person access to it for a limited time, or an arrangement like that.”

“An information dealer, then?”

“Mostly. He’s also been an intermediary, putting someone in need in contact with those who could accomplish their desired goal. Not usually nice things, mind you. His clientele includes some very nasty villains along with heavy political and business insiders world-wide.”

“What does he demand in exchange?”

“Maybe a family heirloom, maybe information he otherwise didn’t have, but that’s supposition. Part of his bargain has always been that the buyer never reveal the price. Later it might be determined due to other evidence, but they never admit it. And ones that do…”

“Let me guess, they just keel over dead?” I asked skeptically.

“Not immediately. But somehow, somewhere, they are taken out. Soren may even make a Deal with someone totally unrelated, and they do the job. His contacts are extraordinary, as are his information sources.”

“I’m surprised no superhero group has banded together to take him down.”

“They’ve tried. Those he has left alive refuse to talk about it.”

I paused as that sank in. “He’s that powerful?”

“Active DPA supposition is at least ‘Wizard Six’. At least. Either that or he has some other kind of ace up his sleeve.”

“There’s something higher than Six?”

“It’s a grey area beyond that, and I hope to never witness it. Suffice it to say your buddy Nick, who was last rated as a Wizard Five, is rightly scared of him. And Nick isn’t someone to underestimate either.”

“Jesus, not if he’s a Five. And who is Nick, anyway? He mentioned having been Soren’s student. Also claimed to work with ‘various agencies’. Does that include yours?”

“Again, I can’t give details. But Nick is an operator, yes. And yes, it is true that he studied under Soren directly for a few years. Nick managed to get kicked out of an elite wizarding college of sorts in England awhile back, and Soren showed up with an offer to teach him. The mystical underworld was a bit in a tizzy about that - Soren had never taken an apprentice before. And the memories of those folks is long - very long.”

“What happened? Nick isn’t his student anymore, right?”

“No, he’s not. You’d have to ask Mr. Wright about that yourself to learn anything more. I’m not cleared for those details - if the DPA even has them.”

The SUV slowly pulled into a driveway and stopped. It took me a moment to realize we had arrived at my home. I hadn’t been paying attention and the traffic must have eased up without me realizing it.

Mark killed the engine and turned to look directly at me, his face serious if not outright haunted.

“Justin, these are extremely dangerous and powerful individuals who have intruded on your life. And Nicolas Wright - he’s not exactly stable. You need to be careful even with him, okay? I know it sounds paranoid, but there are good reasons for extreme caution. Please trust me on this.”

He was earnestly serious - there was a loss there underneath that he kept hidden. What, though, I had no idea. I was about to nod to him and agree when the left passenger door was suddenly hit with enough force to crush it inward. With a tremendous grinding of steel and aluminum our SUV flipped over onto its side. My side.

I hit the window hard enough to shatter the safety glass into a million shiny pieces.

 

~o~O~o~

 

My ears were ringing and everything was just so very far away.

Mark shouted my name. I could make out that much. There was another horrible crunching metallic sound and Mark got pulled from his seat right out of the vehicle. Late afternoon sunlight blinded my face from where his door used to be.

I heard Mark’s gun go off. Twice. And I heard him shout in pain. A girl was whimpering, “no,no, no…”.

The girl was me.

With a protesting groan of broken frame and twisted springs, the SUV lifted back onto what was left of its wheels and a large shadow moved around to my side. I tried to turn my head to look, but before I could get my eyes to refocus huge black ivory claws punctured my door and ripped it off its hinges as if it all were made of cardboard.

If I hadn’t already been in shock, what I saw would have put me there anyway.

A gryphon, possibly larger than the SUV itself, stood on my lawn and casually backhanded the remains of my car door straight through the front wall of my house.

I remember thinking that he was strangely beautiful. Head and wings of a tremendous raven, feathers as dark as a hazy overcast night as seen from a distant mountain safe from all city light. The feathers blended smoothly into black fur covering the rest of his panther-like body. He (even a casual glance showed it was clearly a ‘he’) was huge yet streamlined in his power - muscles rippling under feathers and fur.

“Ah, another. Wrong taste with the first. Perchance you are the answer to the Master’s riddle.” His voice was high pitched and raspy, yet underneath it carried a low thrumming rumble.

I wanted to say something but couldn’t manage anything coherent.

A huge paw reached out again, and I shrieked with fear as my arms instinctively came up to try and protect my face and chest.

The gleaming claw delicately sliced me free of my seatbelt, and before I could react and maybe try to scoot into what was left of the back seat, it reached behind my neck and shoulders and grabbed the back of my sweatshirt. I was pulled wholesale out of the wreckage like nothing more than a limp kitten.

He dangled me in front of his beak, while the two black eyes bore down at me. That beak leaned in closer and sniffed. I wondered if he was going to eat me, or just bite my head clean off.

“Ahh,” he murmured. “Fresh; Good. ‘Kill the one that tastes of what was lost.’ So the Master says.”

A large purple tongue extended and licked at the blood currently leaking from my scalp all over my face.

We both screamed together: me in incoherent terror, and him in some other kind of pain.

He let go, and I dropped to the ground. I managed to scamper backwards until a tire hit my back.

The gryphon howled anguish towards the sky. “Lost. Lost! Oh cruel Master! A taste of the forgotten, and now remembered as purest of torture!”

He closed his eyes to emit another horrendous roar. Whatever glass remained in the SUV shattered into smithereens above me from the generated shockwave.

Falling forward, my arms landed on many shards as I tried to scramble away, but a paw simply pushed against my back and pinned me down with such force that I went instantly flat against the ground, my cheek pressing into gravel and glass.

He spoke. “Pleasure in this, I take none. Orders given, and Master must be obeyed. A painful gift you have given, little one, one I must repay with an unkindness. Yet cautious shall I be: your crossing will gain notice, and such attention I seek not. Weak you still are, and thus simple the solution is.”

I felt a claw reach around to the front of my throat; with a razor flick he severed an artery. I didn’t even feel pain from the cut.

“Goodbye, little sparrow. Sorrow I have for such a harvest before the bloom. But choice I have none.” So saying and with a flap of those tremendous wings he took to the air.

I managed to roll onto my back, reaching with my hands to vainly try and stop the red flood pouring free from the now painful gash in my neck.

His wings were magnificent as he climbed higher into the sky, leaving me behind to die on the ground. I closed my eyes to the bright sun above and my thoughts flashed on my wife Caroline and my sister Helena. I hoped that when I saw them soon they could forgive me for abandoning Danielle. I had promised, but I failed. Tears joined the bloody wave that kept slipping past my fingers.

 

~o~O~o~

 

It wasn’t my wife or my sister’s spirit that showed up.

A shadow was kneeling over me, blocking the sun that had been sneaking past my eyelids. A voice, somehow familiar but I couldn’t place it, spoke instead. It was a powerful yet gentle voice.

“You have less than a minute before full loss of consciousness. You can survive this, but you will need to stay focused. Nod if you hear me, but you should keep your eyes closed.”

I think I managed to move my head, while my wetly slick hands tried to stay as tight as possible against my throat.

“Good. You could heal this easily, but your energy reservoir is too new and mostly empty. You need to focus on your higher source, pull its energy into your body, and let it flow to your neck and head.”

I had no idea how to do anything like that.

Sensing no reaction from me, he went on. “Picture a beam of light. One that rises beyond the sky. One that shines with all the brilliance that is echoed from within your own heart.”

Light? In the hospital, the dream I had before waking up the first time, the column I had been trying to touch…but wouldn’t that kill me? Isn’t that the light you see when you die?

I pictured it anyway, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the desire to reach it. My wife and my sister, they’d be there, right? In the dream the light had held the answers and the peace and the cleansing solace I so needed…

“No!” The voice yanked me back from my vision. “Do not go into that light, you must pull it into you!”

Pull it? I tried to extend my hands towards the light. But the hands in my imagination, they matched my new feminine ones.

I paused in sheer surprise and tried to look at them more clearly. What the hell…?

He interrupted. “You’re running out of time. I do not have the skill to heal such an injury without proper preparation, and I did not think anyone would move this quickly. I am a fool and caught by it.” There was a hint of desperation in that otherwise strong voice echoing a far deeper and hidden sadness.

“But you can,” he continued. “You can heal yourself. Find your purpose: embrace your center and the power will flow. Think of your niece. Think of Danielle.”

Always and forever.

Oh.

I wanted so badly to go up into that light and let it all go, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

My vision of the shining brilliance that rose up before my inner sight refocused. And this time I reached out not just with the image of my hands, but with my will and truest need. I thought of Danielle being forced to face her new powers alone, of being forced to attend yet another funeral, of being abandoned by family for a third time.

No. That was not going to happen. I would not let it.

A thick strand of light spiraled outward from the column and towards me. And as it hit to dive right into me, it was as if a key had found its matching lock. Deep inside a door was thrown open.

The light flooded within.

Have you ever experienced a moment of pure joy and love? Maybe while lying next to your partner, their arms around you and your arms around them, when the walls between the two of you have fallen and you know, you just know that they love you and that you love them with all that you are. Or maybe, if you’ve had children of your own, that first time you held your newborn - that miracle of life for whom you’d give everything you have and more to care for, promising right then and there a lifetime of devotion. Or perhaps when you were a child, and your parent picked you up after you had harmed yourself, and in their arms you felt like everything was going to be okay - not because the pain had stopped, but because you had total faith that somehow they would make it all better.

That’s what the Light felt like. As best as I can put it into words.

I gasped as my eyes flew open, my vision of the Light blending with the sun in the sky above. My mysterious stranger had taken a step back.

“Channel it to your neck,” he commanded. “Also to your head. Good.”

I could feel the gash in my neck close itself, an odd sensation. My growing headache also diminished as the throbbing faded.

“Quickly now, your work is not done.”

A shadowy hand reached down and I took it. It easily lifted me back onto my feet, and I got a proper look at its owner.

He was powerfully built, yet not overly so. The dark African skin of his head was cleanly shaved, and his face narrow and sharp. Somehow he managed to appear both in his late twenties and his mid-fifties simultaneously. He had on an immaculately tailored navy blue jacket with matching slacks, and underneath lay a black silk shirt mirroring the shade of his skin.

His eyes caught my attention. His irises were almost the same shade as the pupils, and yet I swear I saw stars flickering within.

He pointed towards the lone surviving pine tree in my yard. A body lay crumpled against its base and I gasped.

“My god, Mark!”

I rushed to the tree. Mark lay with his back propped against the bark and I could see two puncture wounds bleeding from his midsection. His eyes were shut and his breathing was clearly labored.

Fighting back tears of panic as I knelt besides him, I blinked up at my sharply dressed savior. “How do I help him?”

He smoothly bent down to put a hand on Mark’s forehead. “The punctures have not mortally damaged any internal organs; he is fortunate in this. However his internal bleeding is problematic.”

“Can I heal him, like I healed myself?” I desperately hoped for a ‘yes’ answer.

“No. You are spirit in the semblance of flesh; his body will not heal itself as yours did.”

“I don’t understand.”

Reaching into an inner jacket pocket, he pulled out a smart-phone. “He will need the assistance of physicians, but he must survive long enough for them to aid him. His life-force is draining away with his blood: you cannot heal him - but you should be able to sustain him until help arrives.”

I swallowed. “What do I do?”

“Pull more essence from your source, and as you love him - share that love and light with him. Hold him here so that he does not cross the boundary between life and death. I will call for an ambulance and inform them that an agent of their authorities requires urgent assistance.”

I looked down at Mark, his face was more ashen and colorless than I had ever wanted to see on someone I cared about again. Sitting myself on the grass next to him, I gently pulled him off the tree and into my own arms before closing my eyes once more.

That channel from the tower of light was still there, and I could feel it slowly trying to fill me. But this felt like a household spigot trying to fill the Grand Canyon. I had moved the light to my neck and head, but my body seemed to be just a very small part of a much larger expanse.

I needed a channel from the spigot to go out and into Mark.

Mark and I had never been all that close; he visited Caroline in the hospital only a small number of times when his work allowed. He had never told us exactly what he did at the DPA after he was accepted and made it through their training program to become an agent - but after the past few days I had a new respect for the kinds of crazy things he must have been dealing with all these years.

He never mentioned any of it to Caroline; I could understand now that he never wanted to burden her with any weights of his own.

And I knew too well the pain of losing one’s sister.

Keying off our shared losses, I felt my compassion for him burst outward. The little spigot widened to a hydrant, the light bursting up from my chest and into his.

He groaned, and his hands moved towards the earth wanting to try and push himself up.

“Don’t move, Mark. I’ve got you. You’ve got to let me hold you until an ambulance gets here.”

“Justine?” He said groggily. “What…are you doing?”

His hands found the top of mine as I held him close, and I saw that my skin was glowing brightly again - the more I focused on the channel, the more brilliant it got - like a white neon sign on a dimmer switch controlled by my will.

“Keeping you alive. Please, just let me keep you here.” I couldn’t fight back tears any longer and they dripped into the blood and grime covering my face.

My dark savior approached, putting away his phone even while the operator on the other end was trying to keep him on the line. “Aid will arrive shortly.”

“You!” Mark gasped and struggled to rise up again, my shining arms had to use strength to keep him down. “Where’s my gun?”

Standing over the two of us, with my own glow reflecting off the shimmering darkness of his eyes, the man laughed - but not cruelly. “You have no need of a weapon against me, Agent Boone. I have no intentions of harm towards either of you.”

Mark squirmed in my arms, causing them to dim as I lost some of my focus. “Dammit Mark, he saved me after that beast sliced my throat wide open, and now he’s helping me to save you.”

Swallowing, Mark calmed though I could still feel his body’s tension. Breathing in deeply, I tried to concentrate. The glow returned, but not as brightly as it had been before. I hoped it would be enough.

The man watched as my skin flared again, and with a bowed head he spoke solemnly to himself.

“Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu, Melekh ha'olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Shabbat.” He met my uncomprehending gaze. “For you are my Sabbath candle; after all these ages of darkness, you are a light placed upon the altar of the Most High: my own Aradia.”

I blinked up at him in confusion. “Who are you?”

He made an odd hand gesture towards the empty air by his side. A curtain forged of night unfolded above the grass as if extending from a far distant midnight sky. As its shadowy cloak slowly swallowed him, he simply gazed at me until those eyes merged into the swirling stars that wrapped around him.

Without a word the bridge to twilight vanished back into the bright afternoon sunlight.

That’s when I recognized him - I had seen that outline of a man in shadow before. It was Mark who spoke the name aloud.

“Soren. That was Soren.”

We both fell silent. In the distance I could hear sirens approaching.

Mark, reacting to the sound of the incoming emergency vehicles, fiercely grabbed at my wrist which broke my concentration.

“Mark, I need to focus…”

He coughed again, wincing through the pain it caused, but didn’t let go. “Listen, not much time before they get here. You’re covered in blood, are you hurt?”

“No. No, it healed…”

“Thank goodness. Then I need you to go back over by the vehicle and lie down, pretend to be dead.”

“What? I won’t be able to do, uh…what I’m doing from way over there.”

“They’re almost here. I’ll be fine; I’m sure I’ll make it thanks to what you’ve already done. Please, trust me.”

“The medics will notice that I’m alive.”

“I’ll take care of it. Just don’t move, okay? This will keep you safer, keep Danielle safer. Please.”

It was that additional ‘please’ that got me. I relented, carefully propping him back up against the tree. He moaned, but stayed conscious. “Go,” he pleaded anxiously.

Hesitating one last time while biting my lip, I hurried over across the driveway to lie down on the ground by the wreckage of the SUV - right on top of where my blood had left a glistening pool of red. A scarily large pool. I closed my eyes and tried not to move.

As I heard the ambulance and police cars come roaring down my street I remembered that my skin might still be glowing. Reluctantly I tried to close off that channel from the column of light still blazing in glory within my mind’s eye.

Utter exhaustion slammed me hard when it darkened away. Fortunately for Mark’s plan I didn’t have to try to act dead.

I passed out instead.

 

Chapter Six - Endings

 

A cliff presided over a choppy white-crested ocean which beat a foamy rhythm against the rocks below. A sea-scented cool breeze rustled hair mirroring the reddish gold hues of a setting sun and clouds above.

It was not the clouds themselves that enthralled attention, but what lay above them. A city of shimmering silver walls clad with prismatic jewels flowed into immaculately bright towers stretching high into the glorious sky. Feet - bare, slender, and delicate - swallowed by the thick brackish mud of earth holding me fast, inescapable gravity offering only denial to a heart’s desire to soar and reach those towers - or beyond.

Anger and frustration bled into tears carried away by gusts of salty wind…

 

For a peaceful moment I thought I was back home. The familiar paws of my kitty were kneading at my collarbones, joining his low rumbling vibrations that hovered atop my stomach. Automatically my hand reached up to stroke the fur on his fuzzy head. In contentment he pulled a bit of my blanket into his mouth to suckle on the cloth, even while his happy paws continued their massage.

“Hey buddy,” I said quietly. For a quick confusing moment I thought Caroline had said it at the same time, as the voice I heard sounded more like hers - she had often referred to him the same way.

Recent events crashed back in painfully along with the report from my body’s senses which confirmed it as real. It was all too much to handle.

Keeping my eyes closed, I tried to just take comfort in the obviousness that my kitty still loved me - despite the tremendous changes. Honestly, that meant a great deal. Khan had been with me through so much, the thought of losing his affection on top of everything else brought a fearful lump to my throat.

He definitely deserved more scritches. Wherever I was and whatever else had happened could surely wait a few more minutes, couldn’t it?

A man cleared his throat, sounding like it came from the other side of a small room.

I sighed. Reluctantly I opened an eye to search out the owner of the interrupting noise. My expression was probably not all that friendly.

He was sitting in a deep and brown leather armchair which had been pulled away from a wall to face the bed I was lying upon. A simple pressed white dress shirt and black slacks comprised his attire; whatever tie he might have worn had been removed and the collar loosened one button. Grey hair sat against his head in a shorter style, though the matching grey mustache shouted ‘law officer’ instead of military. An open laptop perched on a leg and a good-sized stack of paperwork rested on the other. He clearly had been in here for awhile.

The rest of the room contained a small working desk with keyboard and monitor, a rolling desk chair which was pulled out and away - revealing a kitty litter pan placed under the desk - and a wheeled tray not unlike one from a hospital holding a covered plastic food tray. If it wasn’t for the lack of adjustment controls on the bed with the requisite railing, along with other missing things like oxygen ports on the walls, I might have thought I was indeed back in the hospital. I will admit relief that such was not the case.

“I apologize for intruding on your rest, Miss Thorne, but unfortunately circumstances are such that it was in everyone’s interest that we talk as soon as you came to. I had them bring breakfast up, in the event you woke hungry.”

Sniffing the air I smelled pancakes. My stomach agreed they were a great idea, and the little metallic teapot sitting next to a selection of tea all wrapped in their foil packets showed someone had been paying attention to my caffeine acquisition preferences. Food along with an apology, dang that meant I should try to be nice.

I moved as if to sit up (requiring some adjustments to kitty’s position, but he didn’t object much), pausing first to glance under my blanket. You know, just in case they had stripped me down and just covered me up again like the last time I woke up in a strange room after passing out.

This time I had on new sweatpants and a new DPA emblazoned t-shirt that was obviously cut for women. I could tell with how it tightened around my middle that it would emphasize the new assets. Sigh.

I wondered if they were going to start charging me for all the clothes I was going through.

The man sat respectfully while I sat up, poured myself some hot water, and dunked a chosen teabag (English Breakfast for anyone interested) into the cup. I swooshed the bag around a few times before finally taking a sip. The water obviously hadn’t been sitting there too long as it was still quite hot.

“Okay. I’m awake.” I realized as I said it that the statement was indeed very true. In fact, whether I wanted to admit it or not, I felt quite refreshed and alert - even before the caffeine had been given any chance to hit my system. Huh.

He tilted his head politely to me. My cat ignored him. “I’m Director Elliot Goodman. I was put in charge of West Coast operations for the DPA. It has come to my attention that my wounded agent, Mr. Boone, may have overstepped his bounds with his actions yesterday evening. It is this we should discuss.”

I stiffened with memory of Mark bleeding against my pine tree. “Mark? Is he okay?” Overstepped his bounds? What?

The director nodded again. “Agent Boone underwent surgery last night - thankfully it was successful. His report indicated that you may have played a key part in his survival during the incident.”

“I…I suppose I did.” I slumped with relief in hearing Mark was going to make it.

“I’m quite interested in hearing about that, but first things first.” He managed to look embarrassed before continuing. “You see, Mr. Boone had you, Justin Andrew Thorne, declared legally dead at the scene. And from what little he communicated to me before going in for surgery, it was clear he may not have exactly had your permission or support in doing so.”

“Wait a minute.” My eyes must have flashed in anger. As in literally because the room flickered brighter and Mr. Goodman’s own eyes widened and he tensed up. Oh shit.

“Uh, sorry,” I gulped. I tried to breathe slowly, which seemed to work. The room returned to being lit only by his desk light. “But…dead? I mean, he asked me to pretend to be dead at the scene - I thought he was afraid our attacker, the huge gryphon raven-panther guy, would come back to finish the job, maybe even attack the hospital or something otherwise. But I also thought he meant it as a temporary ruse.”

“The ‘raven-panther guy’ as you call him uses the name Tsáyid, which is Hebrew for ‘hunter’. He is wanted in the Middle East for many thefts of artifacts…and many homicides. He is likely in the employ of a third party; in fact, Soren was once considered as a possible employer. Recent information, however, makes that quite unlikely. Whoever he works for, they are well hidden and extremely dangerous. Between Soren’s involvement in your case and now Tsáyid’s, Agent Boone’s instincts on how best to protect you and your niece are quite valid. But this plan of action truly does need your agreement and support.”

I shook my head while my thoughts spun at the implications, and popped off the top of the tray to reveal the food beneath. Pancakes AND bacon! Glory! Without saying anything more I began to eat, all while trying to internally list the ramifications of what he was telling me.

Mid-bite I paused to look down at Khan. He was at my side nudging an elbow to clue me in that hey, he liked bacon too. And maybe even pancakes. I broke off a small piece of tasty fattening meat which he happily devoured in a single swallow. Which reminded me.

“You guys feed my boy?”

Goodman pointed to the floor at the foot of the bed. Craning to look over the edge, I saw one of Khan’s ‘Fat Cat’ food bowls where mostly munched kitty food lurked within.

I kept munching. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

We sat in silence while I continued to eat and consider. The man was clearly a paragon of patience and willing to wait for me to complete my meal, but unanswered questions were piling up in my thoughts.

“Hrm, did Danielle get here okay?” I figured that since he hadn’t mentioned her yet she was probably fine, but I needed to be sure.

“Without incident. She has, however, spent the night quite worried about you. Her room is right next door and is one built to withstand, shall we say, unusual climate conditions. Its choice has proven prudent.”

“Oh.” I sighed. Poor Danielle. “Do you want her to abandon who she is too?”

“That remains unclear. Your recount of yesterday’s events may help.”

“I thought you wanted to talk about me being dead first. But fine; I’ll tell.” I took another sip of tea before beginning, trying to summarize things in between bites of pancake. They may have been from a box mix, but they were still pretty good. Probably a mix requiring milk and eggs instead of just water, if I had to guess.

“This Tsáyid guy hit our SUV like a Mack truck right after we pulled into my driveway. We flipped sideways. I hit my head; gryphon-boy pulled Mark out and must have speared him with those claws.” I saw again Mark’s bloody chest, and the feeling of him in my arms as his life tried to seep away. I shivered.

“And then?” he prompted.

“The gryphon lifted the car back upright, peeled my door off like someone casually taking a tissue from its box, then yanked me out as well. He dropped me, and pinned me to the ground with a paw on my back; he was incredibly strong, he could have squished me like a grape.”

“Why did he drop you?”

“Oh. Yeah, he said some things. And he licked some blood off my face.”

“He tasted your blood? Interesting. He indicate why?”

“Urm, someone he only referred to as the ‘Master’ had given him orders him to, wait how was it phrased exactly? ‘Kill the one who tastes of what was lost’.”

I made a mental note to never play poker against the director - he was deliberately keeping his face blank and non-reactive, and doing a damn fine job of it. “Please go on,” was all he said.

“He, uh, he didn’t like the taste and let go of me while he howled - which, by the way, blew out the rest of the car’s windows. Once he had me pinned again, he said something about how he didn’t want to be there when I actually died - so he slit my throat instead and flew off, leaving me to bleed out on my own.”

Goodman rubbed a hand on his chin; he really needed a goatee to go with that gesture. Though he’d then look more like a villain instead of a cop.

“Agent Boone reported that Soren was there.”

“Yes. He showed up while I lay there dying. I didn’t see him arrive, I was somewhat distracted, you see.”

He ignored my sarcasm. “What did he do?”

“Do? He told me how to heal myself.”

One grey eyebrow rose upwards. “How?”

I paused. How much did I want to share here, anyway? I wasn’t sure. As it was I found it hard to believe what I had been able to do. It was crazy.

He guessed at my hesitation and spoke immediately. “Miss Thorne, please believe me that we want to help you. I want to help you. And the best way for us to do that is to try and figure out the what and why regarding the events of the past few days. Which includes trying to understand what abilities you have gained. That may provide tremendous insight into what Soren was trying to do with the ritual that ensnared you and your niece.”

Each time he called me ‘Miss’ I cringed. It kept reminding me of how much was still on my plate to deal with - even now after the pancakes and bacon had disappeared.

“This is going to be hard to put into words, okay? He had me mentally reach into the light, and pull it into me, specifically into my neck and head.”

He blinked. “Did he give you an incantation, or sigils to focus on, or anything of that sort?”

“Uh, no. Just picture the light, and well, do it. I almost wasn’t able to.”

“Did something trigger your success?” he prompted.

I thought about it, then nodded. “Yes. He reminded me that Danielle still needed me. She was the reason I had to live.” I looked at him sharply. “She still is.”

His poker face stayed in place, but he was silent while staring at me. He was clearly thinking hard.

I looked over at Khan. He had curled up on the bed next to me. Damn, I forgot to give him another piece of the bacon before I ate it all. I started stroking his fur again in apology as I kept on with the story.

“After I healed up, Soren pointed me to Mark. He was in bad shape. Soren told me Mark was dying, and that help wouldn’t get there in time unless I did something. He said he couldn’t heal him; something about needing ‘preparation’. I asked him if I could heal Mark like I had healed myself. He answered no, but that I could do something similar which would somehow, uh, keep his life force going in the interim. Like I couldn’t stop his bleeding, but the bleeding was a manifestation of his life flowing away - and if I shoved the light into him, it would keep him alive. Long enough for the paramedics and doctors to stabilize him anyway. It seemed to work.”

The image and feel of Mark, held so close in my own glowing arms, was still vividly fresh. My heart-rate increased, and a strange fluttery feeling went through me. What the hell?

“Did Soren say anything else?” Goodman interrupted the sensation, and I refocused to replay more of what happened in my mind.

“Yeah. Before he stepped through this dark portal he conjured up, he said a phrase that sounded Jewish - I mean, Hebrew. He then called me his ‘Sabbath candle’, and a ‘light on the altar’.”

“That’s…quite interesting. We will consult our experts; perhaps it has a deeper meaning. Can you remember exactly what he said?”

“Well it certainly meant something to him. And yeah, I think I could recite it. So if they can translate and make sense of it, I want to know. Once he was gone, though, Mark had me go play dead. When I lay down in my own blood there on the pavement I stopped trying to pull on the light so I wouldn’t be all glowy. That’s when I lost consciousness. How long have I been out?”

“Considering it’s now after seven a.m., I would judge it to be about fifteen hours.”

Fifteen hours? Holy hell. That was a long nap. Admittedly I really had been seriously lacking on sleep, and now felt a lot more refreshed. Guess I needed it.

“Agent Boone,” he was saying, “instructed the paramedics to have a coroner declare you dead at the scene. From the amount of blood on and around you, it sounds like they were quite surprised and didn’t want to believe you were still alive anyway. You were tagged, bagged, and delivered safely here to our facility by our people.”

“And where is ‘here’ exactly?” I hadn’t gotten a precise location out of Mark about where this place was located.

“In a research development facility, just north of Agoura Hills. We’re outside of Los Angeles proper.”

“Huh.”

“Your accounts of Tsáyid’s statements and actions make it clear that you were his target and also his only target. He did not search the rear seat to see if Danielle was there. Her presence or lack thereof was not important to him.”

Maybe not to him, but I was damn glad she had gone in the other car and not with us. He could have killed her first before he got to me.

Goodman continued. “As such I do not believe it necessary for her to take on a new identity - she has suffered enough loss of late.”

While I was relieved to hear that for Danielle, I realized that somewhere in my brain I must have already agreed with Mark regarding my own future. I totally didn’t like the idea of abandoning who I was, but the thought of facing off against gryphon-boy again absolutely and viscerally terrified me. Crap.

“Okay, look.” I rubbed my so-should-have-been-stubbly-but-was-soft-and-smooth-instead face. All my mental questions returned to the forefront. “My employment was toast the moment I became a Meta. I had independent life-insurance, but do they still have to pay if the government meddles like this? I’m declared dead, not in Witness Protection. My sister’s house is in escrow - her estate was going into a trust fund for Danielle to collect when she turned eighteen; I wasn’t in my sister’s will - Danielle gets everything. My own will was updated a few weeks ago; my lawyer has copies. Danielle is again the sole recipient thereof.”

I paused to swallow some more tea. “But most importantly, what happens to Danielle now? If I’m dead, how can I be her legal guardian? And if you guys set me up with new identification, would I lose all my accounts? So Danielle would get all my funds and house?” I grimaced, the thought of losing everything I had earned wasn’t sitting well with me - even if my niece inherited it all, what was I going to do going forward?

“The best cover would be indeed if she inherits all your assets. She could become a ward of the state, which would mean foster-care, or…” He trailed off.

“Or what?”

“Or we do what I believe would be truly best for the child, and impress on your brother-in-law to become her new guardian.”

I shook my head. “As much as I’d approve, it wouldn’t work; he travels too much for this job. And before you try to say that a desk position could be arranged that would keep him stable for a few years: just no. After what I’ve seen, you clearly need him field-worthy. He got pulled from his vehicle by a creature straight out of legend, and still managed to draw his gun and try to shoot it anyway. He didn’t panic, he kept a cool head.”

Yeah, he didn’t freak out. But I did. Sure I hit my head and all, but when I got dropped I tried to crawl away alongside the car, instead of under it. Stupid. May not have made any difference, but what did I actually try to do? Shriek and cower? Dammit.

“I had something else in mind for her, actually.” Goodman put his fingertips together in that pontification temple position. “It is obvious she has manifested new powers, which we hope to classify today. Equally obvious is that she will need to learn how to control them. There are a few rather select boarding schools that can offer both educational and protective environments for mutant and meta children. Their security arrangements are usually top-notch. Her trust funds, as I understand it, would be adequate to cover the costs of attending - even with the tuitions being as high as they are. With your estate, her future college needs would also be covered. Agent Boone would only need his summers to be more ‘stable’, as you put it. He will be sitting a desk for the rest of this summer as it is, recuperating from his injuries.”

Huh. That actually sounded promising. And maybe they could set me up with a job or something nearby or at the school, so we wouldn’t be too far apart. No idea what new career I should try and pursue though. My degree and professional history in software were going up in smoke; I’d have to find something else entirely. But what?

“Which brings us to you, Miss Thorne. Considering your, shall we say ‘rejuvenation’ to a younger physical age, and when combined with the fact that you obviously also have new powers to learn and master, attendance at such a school would also be beneficial for you.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud. “Are you nuts?”

He didn’t laugh or even smile. “I am quite serious.”

I got annoyed. “Look, I know I look as young as Danielle and all, but I am not a child. I am in my forties, with all the experiences both good and bad that goes with it. I know you can get me some sort of ID that has my proper age on it for when challenged, and which would allow me to keep driving and pursue some new field of study and career.”

“The ones who seek your death also know your true age by now, Miss Thorne,” he countered. “If done cautiously, a girl registered as say, age fifteen or sixteen, at such a school would most likely fly completely under their radar, and thus keep you hidden. Not to mention it would keep your niece safer as well, for if they knew you were alive and that you still have contact with her in any way…”

He left it unsaid, so I said it for him. “She’d be at risk. Again. But look - I didn’t enjoy high school much the first time, do you have any idea how bad it’d be to get forced to go through that crap again? Especially when there’s no way I’d fit in socially. Kids can smell adults a mile off.”

“You may find that since physically you fit the profile - and I daresay attractively so - your experience may be quite different.”

I ignored the cheap attempt at flattery. “Yeah, it could actually be worse. It means the adults will treat me like a child again, even if I am older than they are. And don’t you think the curriculum won’t also reveal too much anyway? College degree here, taking high school classes again? Ha!”

“You underestimate the special curriculum such schools offer their students. Remember that many Exemplar, Devisor, and Gadgeteer children are beyond brilliant and often reach levels of genius we can barely understand let alone quantify. Quite a few of them put your own previous credentials to shame, to be honest. I’ve met some of those kids.”

“Either way, they’re still kids. And I’m not.”

“No, you are indeed not a child. You are, however, someone who is now faced with learning how to socialize and experience life as a woman, along with developing and learning to control whatever powers your change has granted you. What safer place could there be than an exclusive boarding school targeting directly your demographic? Radical changelings are something they deal with every year, some changes being much worse than what you have experienced. Much worse.”

“It’s academic anyway, pun intended,” I protested. “If I’m starting over clean, I couldn’t afford the tuition - not without some financial shenanigans that could be traced and potentially reveal who I am. And if the cost is as high as you’ve described, I’m not sure my estate could cover both me and Danielle for those years without leaving us destitute upon graduations.”

“That may possibly not be a problem. The DPA has an arrangement with one of the schools I’m thinking of, and I believe you could be entered there under a scholarship program. You might have to do some work-study but your expenses would be covered if approved.”

The bastard then totally cheated and added, “Miss Thorne, if you were to attend the same school as your niece, you would be right there with her - even if in a different capacity than you had intended after your sister’s unfortunate accident. She wouldn’t be going there alone.”

Dammit.

I didn’t openly cave, though. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

He smiled then, an unexpectedly warm smile. Meh, he knew he had me. Eventually.

“Good. Then if you’re feeling up to it, let’s head to our lab and see if we can determine what sorts of abilities your experience has granted. Our experts are quite anxious to find out, as I’m sure you are too. Your niece should be starting her own evaluation shortly. I could hear her being escorted to our cafeteria right before you woke up.”

I had a feeling his ‘experts’ were more excited about the prospect of these tests than I was. The whole idea of having powers unnerved me as it was. I sighed, kissed Khan on his forehead for which I was rewarded with a kitty head-bonk. I told my buddy I’d be back later as I slid out of the bed. Khan yawned widely, and curled back up in the blanket.

I think the fuzzball made the smarter choice.

As we went out into the hallway, I muttered something under my breath.

“What was that?” Goodman paused his step to look sideways at me.

“I said, ‘this school of yours damn well better allow cats.’”

 

Chapter Seven - Testing

 

The first stop the Director guided me to was just down the hallway: a closed door marked ‘Women’.

He gestured at the door. “While some of our female staff cleaned you up as best as possible last night when you arrived, I figured you’d like a shower first before anything else. Don’t worry - I’ll stay out here and make sure no one else goes in until you’re done. Take your time; I still have a number of high priority emails to deal with.” He raised the laptop he carried with him as if to emphasize the point.

I looked around and wondered where he’d sit in the otherwise empty hallway, but decided he was smart and could figure that out himself. I went on into the ladies’ room.

Honestly it was very much like a men’s restroom, except for the couch. And maybe the green potted plants that lurked in a few places. And the tampon dispenser. Oh and the fact that the counter in front of the mirror was long and brightly lit with only a few sink basins so it had more usable counter space.

Plus no standing urinals, just stalls.

Yeah, okay, it was different.

At the end of the line of toilet stalls there were three showers with flimsy thin plastic curtains. A towel rack hung on the wall opposite with a good supply of stacked fluffy white towels.

Sighing, I pulled off the sweatpants and t-shirt, putting them on the floor by one of the showers. I also removed the white scrunchy to let all the hair hang free so I could wash it. Turning to climb into the shower I caught sight of the reflection in one of the full-length mirrors that adorned the wall by the sinks.

I knew the image showing the long-limbed girl was my own, yet I still reacted and quickly averted my eyes as if it belonged to someone else who I had intruded upon. Dammit, I needed to get over this, needed to somehow accept this change and move on.

Moving directly in front of the mirror, I forced myself to face the image straight on.

“This is me,” I whispered while watching the lips of the girl in the mirror mouth my words.

Her face still had some smudges from my driveway, but I could see no scar or even any kind of mark from where that beast had slit my throat. The skin under the chin was completely unblemished, just like the rest of her.

Except there were still crufts of dried blood wedged under my fingernails testifying to the crimson flood my fingers had tried to stem.

I almost died yesterday.

Intellectually I knew that I should have croaked in Soren’s storage unit, but that whole scene was entirely too surreal, like it was mostly special effects from a blockbuster movie. Sure, I remembered the agony I experienced carrying Danielle out of there, but it was like the pain had been so extreme that my brain now refused to accept, process, or relate to it. It was over so quick.

Feeling warm blood pump past my fingers to cover the front of my sweatshirt yesterday had been real. All too horrifyingly real. As was feeling absolute helplessness while that creature dangled me in its claws and that huge beaked face made the decision to kill me.

The golden eyes of the girl in front of me looked haunted and scared.

I didn’t burst into tears - instead I sank to the floor, curled into a tight ball with arms around my knees, and trembled.

I stayed that way, shaking uncontrollably, for a few minutes.

I don’t know what the hell I had been thinking, grabbing my shotgun and charging off with Nick that first night. It’s not like I’d had any combat training or experience in dealing with such scenarios. Karate lessons don’t count. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the cops were too busy to send someone when I called, I never would have gone. Instead I would have waited for the trained authorities to arrive, let them take the lead, and I’d have followed their instructions.

But they didn’t, and hadn’t been going to. So I went with the random crazy mage who did show up. What other choice did I have?

I inhaled deeply, letting it out slow to try and calm the raw and twitching nerves. Danielle had survived. Whatever other consequences there were, such as repeating high school looking like a poster-girl who should hold pom-poms while wearing short skirts, the important thing was that my niece was alive.

Yes, something really awful out there wanted me dead. But I had been willing to die that first night, so if my fate was simply delayed for a time - I had better make the most of it while I could.

Most of all I had to make damn well sure Danielle never for an instant felt guilty about any of it. She was headed into a new life filled with magic, mystery, and perhaps greater potential than she otherwise would have ever known. Sidhe and a room full of snow? Who knows what kind of future she could have. And if I wanted to be there for her and help her through it, I needed to get my shit together.

I forced myself up off the floor, deliberately looked myself over from head to toe in the mirror, then spoke clearly at my own reflection.

“This is me. Suck it up, princess.”

That said I climbed in the shower to wash my body and shampoo my hair.

 

~o~O~o~

 

I emerged from the ladies’ room with my hair still damp. The Director was sitting outside upon an office chair he had wheeled over from somewhere. He finished typing a sentence and looked up. “All set?”

I nodded.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Closing his laptop, he left the chair where it was and proceeded to lead us down a series of long corridors, passing rooms labeled only by numbers. There were a lot of rooms with cluttered desks, maps covering the walls, even some suction NERF darts stuck to monitors which caused my guide to frown in disapproval.

Seemed like the usual office spaces to me.

We reached a rather wide elevator, and after he waved his badge at the sensor it opened and we went down a few levels.

As we rode down he commented, “Powers testing is located deep within an excavated hill behind the complex. This provides more margins of safety in case of incidents.”

That sounded rather ominous. Echoes of Dr. Kirov wanting to get a sample from my cranium reverberated through my thoughts.

Reaching the bottom, the doors opened to reveal something more akin to a wide sub-divided cavern or warehouse, complete with stadium lighting placed at regular intervals along the concrete ceiling. The sub-divisions formed a massive cubical farm except that these cubes were the size of racquetball courts with ten feet high walls. They were filled with all kinds of busily wired contraptions which naturally didn’t look at all scary and mad-scientist crazy to my fragile nerves.

We wandered through the tight paths between the sections, finally arriving at one that was almost entirely packed solid with large computerized industrial equipment: banks of thick electrical cords all feeding what at first reminded me of a Stargate, but on closer inspection was really one of those airport full-body scanners wedged into the middle of a giant monstrous machine. A bank of embedded industrial fans were already spinning and provided a loud hum, but the speed was variable causing the pitch to rise and fall as if the machine was breathing, giving the whole scene a creepy aura.

Standing in front of the ventilated behemoth was another creature arms deep in some wiring. It turned to face us and shouted a greeting.

“Director! Is wonderful to see you down here, welcome! Welcome!”

The ‘smaller’ and shouting beast was actually a man well over six and a half feet in height, and almost as wide. A scraggly and convoluted silver-white beard hung from his face below a pair of green flying-ace goggles. All of this was over a large pair of blue mechanics overalls and some rather impressive thick rubberized boots. His accent sounded awfully familiar.

“Hello professor. This is Justin Thorne; I believe you’ve been briefed on her situation.”

A mighty hand moved the goggles up onto a balding forehead. “Ah, yes! Greetings young lady, welcome to our laboratory!”

I answered testily. “If you know my ‘situation’, professor, then you know that ‘young’ doesn’t apply.”

He laughed, a booming, open, and contagious laugh. I found myself smiling at the guy in spite of myself.

“I have decades beyond yours to count, therefore you is still young. As I am naturally polite, you must be lady, yes? Allow me great honor of introducing myself, as I am your tormentor this day.” His exaggerated wink took the edge off his spoken statement; my stomach, however, remained guarded.

Reaching out he took my much smaller hand in his, but instead of shaking as I expected he merely bowed his head over it. “My name, granted me by most blessed parents, is Gregor Kirov, chief scientist of modest operation here.”

Wait a minute. “Did you say Kirov? My doctor at the hospital had that name.” The accent clicked into place, and butterflies resumed their frenetic swarming.

His eyes widened as did his grin. “Anton! Yes! Younger brother. Ah Anton, he is good man. Most noble of the family.”

“Noble?” I spluttered, quickly taking back my hand. “He wanted to take a sample of my brain!”

The older brother thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “He must have reasons. He is medical doctor, worries only for patients. But be concerned not; I have no intentions of drilling holes into such a lovely head as yours.”

“You promise?”

He laughed, but before he could hopefully reassure me the Director demanded his attention.

“Professor, I need you to perform an assessment of her abilities personally. When that is complete, I need the report on the statistical analysis of the data from the Stadium Event on my desk within the following hour. And the cross-correlation team is still waiting for that algorithm you mentioned could be of assistance to their evaluation.”

“Yes, yes! Of course. Busy days, busy days!”

Director Goodman switched over to me, his eyes performing pure evaluation as if weighing and measuring me all over again. “We will talk again later, Miss Thorne. In the meantime you may want to start considering what new name we should provide you, along with a codename for your MID.” With that, he left me with Gregor.

Ah crap. I had momentarily forgotten that I was technically dead, and rapidly becoming permanently in that state. What the hell new name did I want, anyway? If anyone suggested ‘Leia Organa’ and offered me danishes, they were going to get decked. I mean, not only was my hair color completely wrong for that, I was way too tall.

A loud noise caused me to jump and suck in air: Gregor had clapped his hands in eagerness. “So, young lady, we shall begin, yes?”

I exhaled sharply. “What’s first, more blood samples? Exploratory surgery of my spleen?”

“No, no! None of that; I am man of Science! No need for such primitive pokings. Step into parlor, let us see what secrets there are to see!”

He guided me over to the center of his device, shooing me in and telling me to stand in the center with hands raised up over my head. Like I said - it was just like being in one of those TSA scanning booths. It even had a moving bar that went up and down outside the booth as it performed the scan.

All in all, it took a handful of seconds.

“Come out, we look at results, yes?”

I stepped out. He was sitting on a tiny swivel office chair peering at a monitor wedged into a panel on his machine. His huge frame perched on such a small seat was fairly comical, but I didn’t say anything.

“Is that going to tell you if I packed a bomb for my visit, or what?” I asked.

“Pfft. If you had bomb, this tell you not only chemical composition, but also DNA of everyone who ever touch it. Do not underestimate my Big Betty here!” He put a fond hand against a panel.

Oh. I finally figured it out. “You’re a Devisor! And this scanner is a devise?”

“Yes! Though I also am Gadgeteer, someday shall bridge gap between! But this, this is Big Betty. She is built to analyze mutants and metas, based on the conjectured pattern of similar devises others have created. She is, naturally, much better than those. You see, she not only does resonance scan of subject, but does pattern probability projections to generate proper potential report! You will not find other devises capable of such advanced theori-temporal computations!”

“Theory-what?”

Using a hunt-and-peck style he typed a few commands into his computer. “Theori-temporal. Causal projections into future based on all available theories regarding cross-temporal perception, plus others she extrapolates into her matrix. Hmm. Give me minute, she wishes to being temperamental today. Ha! Is funny! Temperamental theori-temporal devise, yes?”

I groaned.

He began to type more furiously, causing the screen to spew a multitude of histograms and charts that he rapidly flipped past while muttering to himself in Russian. At least unlike his brother, it wasn’t likely to be curse words. Or so I hoped.

After a couple minutes of watching I got impatient. “So professor, what’s she saying?”

“Hmm.” He tugged on his beard. “Is intriguing data. She is lacking correlations against which to run comparisons. I may need to improve efficiencies…”

“Which means?” I prompted.

His eyes moved sideways to peer at me, and I caught a glimpse underneath his jovial demeanor. Whatever he was thinking, it was serious. I recognized such calculating expressions; I’d seen them in myself when trying to develop new software architectures from scratch. “It means, young lady, Big Betty will not have conclusive results in time to satisfy Director’s report schedule.” He stood slowly while interlacing his fingers and extending his hands away from his chest causing them to crack each knotty knuckle in turn. “So! We proceed with direct testing!”

Oh joy.

He reached an arm around my shoulders to lead me out into the narrow hallway. “Physical first. Strength and endurance, yes?”

I shrugged his arm off as casually as I could manage. “Uh sure. Sounds great.” Truth to tell, I was indeed curious about my strength. I didn’t feel all that strong, but I had managed to put my hand through a wall with a single punch. I’d seen many videos up on YouTube of female supers who looked skinny, yet lifted entire cars. So yes, I will admit being rather interested.

As we neared an intersection in this maze, a man in a sky-blue robe covered with intricate white runes crossed our path. He was rather wiry under that robe, with an immaculately short-trimmed beard flanked by his shoulder-length wavy brown hair. But standing with him was Danielle.

“Uncle! You’re okay!” She launched herself into my arms with happy exuberance.

I caught her escort mouthing ‘uncle?’ and looking at Gregor questioningly. Gregor just shook his head at the guy.

“Yeah I’m alright. How goes it with you, kiddo?” I managed to get her to release me enough so that I could look her over. She was wearing the same emblazoned sweatpants and t-shirt combination I was. Not too surprising since my clothes-retrieval mission for her had failed so miserably. What surprised me though was that she had a huge smile on her face, and her eyes were alight and happy.

I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time.

“They say I’m going to be a magician! Not just the make-it-snow thing either, but real spells and everything. That’s so awesome! I could only barely sense magic before, but now I can actually see it and they want me to try some spells today!”

Her sheer glee got me to smile too. I did catch Gregor raising one eyebrow at the robed man, who in turn held up all five fingers on one hand. Gregor raised his other eyebrow in surprise.

I didn’t say it, but I understood what the other guy meant. Wizard rank five. My own earlier research knew enough of what that meant. Danielle would be quite powerful once she learned how to use it. As in superhero levels of possible power.

Yikes. My mind flashed on the pitfalls of such abilities: the dangers involved with misfired spells, superhero or even supervillain organizations wanting to take advantage, all of that. Call me an overprotective parental type, but yeah. More to worry about.

“That’s great!” I hid my true reaction, as I really didn’t want to spoil her happiness.

“I know! And I’m definitely one of the Fae, I’ve got a minor allergy to synthetic clothing and iron and everything. Nothing horrid, but rashes suck. Good thing these are one-hundred percent cotton! I’ll tell you all about it later, but Diego is taking me to a magic room now.” She was bouncing up and down with excitement.

I smiled. “Alright, I look forward to a full report! Good luck!” With a grin and another bounce, she and Diego hurried along into a section up ahead, leaving me alone with Gregor again. Our eyes met and my smile vanished. “She’s going to be a handful with that kind of talent, isn’t she?”

He nodded. “Yes. She needs careful instruction and safe space for practice.”

That settled it, didn’t it? That special school Director Goodman had been talking about. Danielle needed it, no argument allowed. Which meant if I wanted to stick close to her I was also doomed. High school. Again. It was for the best, I knew that, it’s just…I really did not enjoy it the first time.

My shoulders fell. “Alright professor, let’s get on with it.”

He caught my mood change and kindly said nothing more until we reached an area just past where Danielle had gone, one that had a fancy treadmill, a massive weight set including an industrial-sized squat rack, plus other various cable machines all wired for computer readouts. It even had, I kid you not, an entire jeep sitting over a reinforced floor space.

The professor handed me a plastic shopping bag that had been sitting on the desk with the monitoring computers.

“What’s this?”

“You may wish to change into these, yes? For physical tests.” He pointed to a small door set into a wall. “In there, is private.”

I looked in the bag. Girl gym shorts, socks, workout t-shirt, running shoes that I hoped would fit, and what looked like a sports bra and dark panties.

“More comfortable for running and jumping. Lady agent recommend and provide.” He nodded encouragingly.

Oh. Right. Sucking it up and moving on. Tally-ho.

 

~o~O~o~

 

After being put through my paces on the hill-climbing treadmill, I had to admit the sports bra was absolutely worth it. The thought of trying to run at those speeds with the ‘girls’ bouncing free, oh God ouch, no thank you! I decided I owed whichever agent provided the clothes a large thank you.

Of course my gracious feeling may have been influenced by my absolute astonishment at what I could do. I had never been a stellar sports athlete, but back in the day I had been in pretty good shape - hitting the gym regularly with a fair amount of exercise. In high school I had taken up karate (did I mentioned getting bullied? Yeah, it happened) and even dabbled in some fencing. Lingering asthma issues mixed with the crappy air quality of Los Angeles in the mid-eighties meant that running, however, was never a forte.

Now it seemed I could run forever and never be short of breath. Even uphill!

I caught myself grinning and giggling at the sheer thrill of it when Gregor finally forced me off the treadmill.

“Enough, yes? Much more to be done.”

“But I’m not even tired! This is awesome!” Laughing, I took his offered bottle of sports water and drank deeply.

He chuckled. “You sound like niece. Is good! Now though is time for weights.”

Shaking my head in amazement, we went over to the cable machine. He had me lie down on the bench while he set the contraption up for a regular bench press. The cables disappeared into a central mechanism and were a lot thicker than the ones I was used to at a regular gym. He walked over to a little podium which had a tablet screen built into it and began tapping on it.

“Hey Gregor, where are the actual weights? How much are you starting me out with? I think my personal best was only about two hundred and twenty pounds, and that was in college. Always was stronger with my legs, truthfully.”

He waved a hand at me without looking up. “You focus on push, yes? Weights are down below, number not relevant.”

I shrugged and pushed up on the bar. He must have started me on something light, as I had to be careful not to slam it to the top.

“Apologies,” he said. “I make more heavy. Go again.”

Ignoring as best I could how odd it was to have these squishier things on my chest while performing the bench movements, I pushed again. It had more resistance this time, but nothing actually difficult.

“Think you can add more than that. Maybe double.”

He grunted and tapped some more. “Go.”

This time it took effort, pressing my spine into the bench supporting me. I adjusted my feet to get better stability and forced the bar up.

“Good,” he said more to himself than to me. “Again.”

Now it was really heavy. With some straining and some non-manly grunting, I finally managed it. I could feel my heart beating stronger, but the endorphins were flowing so I still felt great.

“Hmm.” Gregor was staring at his display and tapping commands.

“So…go again?” I asked.

“I have theory,” he said. “Report say you channeled energy to heal neck, yes? And sustain wounded Agent Boone?”

“Yeah. Soren sorta showed me how.”

“Is like Energizer. Some can increase physical capacity. Do again. Channel to body - to muscles.”

“It healed me, not anything else…”

“Try, yes?” His massive shoulders shrugged. “Worst scenario, you lift no more than already.”

Closing my eyes I tried to remember what I had done. Picture the light, Soren had said. It had appeared like a tower burning down through the sky, in fact its image was rather easy to recall. I tried to imagine that light flowing into my body as it had before, and then pushed on the bar.

It didn’t seem any easier to move.

“I don’t think it’s working.”

“You is not doing it right. Focus, yes? Find same mental space you had when trying save agent.”

Right. I wanted to save Mark. The tree he lay against appeared in my mind, his body draped against it while slowly bleeding out. But in this image I was helpless, the energy just wasn’t flowing.

“It’s no good. I can’t!”

“Yes, can!” Gregor commanded intently. He was angry and shouting at me. “You wish protect niece? Raw strength not good enough, you is woman now, are weak! If she attacked, what you do? Cry over grave?”

My mental picture of the light warped and enveloped me, shifting to a new scene entirely. Danielle was standing in a lush grassy field by a lake with deep and calm waters. A thick dark green forest surrounded the field stretching off alongside the water. Danielle was wearing a white two-piece bikini that showed off her improved physique, and she was laughing as she ran towards the water. But behind her, swooping out of the forest on wide black wings was the massive gryphon, Tsáyid, his razor-like front claws extended for a bloody kill…

No. NO!

Something inside twisted with my need, the tower of glorious brilliance flared within my reach. I grabbed for that blinding energy, throwing it into my arms and chest, and shoved my arms upwards to get out from under the bar. In my mind I was trying to will myself towards her, to stop that bastard from killing what I had sworn to protect.

The bar slammed to the top, bending right in the middle as glowing arms and hands forced it to go far past its limits. In that dominating vision I saw Danielle turn towards the attacking creature, screaming and throwing her hands up in terror.

There was an explosion in the next room followed by the sounds of Danielle shrieking in panic. Her cry and the vision merged into one.

I was up off the bench and running towards the wall that separated our rooms, all thoughts gone except to reach her regardless of what was in my way. Tsáyid was not taking her from me!

Gregor’s shout of “Wait!” didn't register.

I tried to grab even more power from that seemingly endless source, but it stuck against some kind of limit and the pipe refused to grow any larger. Ignoring that, I just threw all that I had at the wall between me and her cry of alarm. I even shouted some kind of word before releasing the energy.

The reinforced concrete wall disintegrated from the onslaught. A torpedo of light had lanced out from my hands, and at the point of impact the wall exploded outward in a shower of blinding sparks. The shrapnel exploded through the air like bursting fireworks before dimming and disappearing.

I rushed through the open hole, desperate to find Danielle.

Inside she was trapped within a blue sphere forged by lines of glowing and linking runes. It looked like the guy she had been with, Diego, was caught in one too.

She was shouting something, but the barrier between us prevented me from hearing it. The runic-fueled barrier that she was stuck within was surging brighter and more solid with each step as I ran towards it.

Still acting purely on instinct, I threw a line of light at the orb surrounding her, and with another strange word I ripped the energy from those runes. It was like ripping through a piece of paper.

The sphere collapsed as Gregor tackled me to the ground from behind.

“SHE IS SAFE! Justin, she is safe! Was Diego’s shield!” Gregor was bear hugging me as tightly as he could, but I knew I could re-channel and break free.

His words clicked into focus before I might have broken his arms.

Shaking my head to try and clear the image of Tsáyid diving over the green field at Danielle, I looked at the room again.

The remains of a folding table lay against one of the walls. It was like a grenade had gone off on its surface, shattering its top which had caused it to collapse at its center. A mess of wax and half-melted candles was strewn about the floor and on the bits of the table that survived.

Diego and Danielle were staring at me with expressions of shock, Diego still within his wavering runic bubble.

The only light sources in the room were Diego’s magic bubble…and me.

My whole body was translucent, and from underneath the skin that pure white light was pouring forth. My hair was also aflame with luminescence, throwing reddish gold outward to mix with the shimmering magic wards adorning the parts of the walls I hadn’t obliterated.

My inner channeling faded away abruptly as I realized I may have just screwed up.

I stammered, “What…what just happened?”

 

~o~O~o~

 

Gregor and Diego were arguing in Spanish, though Gregor occasionally injected a Russian word or two. Danielle and I sat together opposite them at a conference table lined with standard black wheeled office chairs. Someone had placed a blanket over my shoulders, and Danielle was keeping a hand on top of mine while looking at me with a blend of worry, fear, and if I were honest about it, awe.

The Eastern European mountain of a scientist had guided us all here, while other agents with odd-looking detector things swarmed Danielle and Diego’s magic space and the now-connected workout area.

The two men finally stopped yelling at each other and turned to us.

Diego spoke first. “I know you both have questions,” he said without any trace of an accent. “And I will try to answer them as best I can. But first, we’d like to hear from each of you, starting with Danielle. Can you tell us, in your own words, what you experienced and felt?”

Danielle glanced at me, and I squeezed her hand while trying to manage a smile. She took in a deep breath before speaking.

“Okay, so Diego wanted me to try a couple simple spells. We went into that magic room where there were a lot of these colored candles set up on a table. He first showed me how to tune in to the available magical energy in the room, and get a feel for it kinda. He then drew different rune symbols in the air with his finger, and I had to try and mirror it with one of my own. That was sorta hard, but I think I got the hang of it.” She looked at Diego who nodded encouragingly for her to continue.

“After we had done that for awhile, we went over to the table with all the candles. He said each candle was different and would react to, uh, ‘individual resonances’. Like there are different magical paths, and we were trying to determine which would react to me? He wanted me to try and wrap energy from the air around each candle in turn, and we’d watch what would happen, see which ones worked and which didn’t, that kind of thing.”

She paused, her eyes rolling up towards the ceiling as she remembered. “First was a red one, and it didn’t do anything. Same with a black one and another one that was pure white.” She flushed slightly. “I was hoping that one would do something - you know, because of my hair going white and the whole snow thing I’ve been doing.”

Diego shook his head gently. “That one is white to represent Asiatic death-magic.”

“Oh,” she smiled. “Then I think I’m glad it didn’t react. Anyway, I got a brown one and a pale blue one to light up. So he told me to try this dark green one. That, uh, that didn’t go so well, or maybe too well.” She winced.

Gregor said gently, “Is alright, child. If am right, you did nothing wrong. Was me.”

She looked at him, confused. “But it was me. As I tried to wrap it in the feel of energies around it, there was suddenly just too much! I couldn’t hold onto it, it was like it was burning me. So I just released it…all at once on the candle. It exploded, destroying the table and all the other candles! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Diego quickly spoke. “Danielle, this was not your fault. Gregor is correct, he is responsible.”

Gregor grumbled something incoherent from behind his beard.

“But how?” she cried. “I did it! I mean, if we had been standing closer…” Her eyes widened in horror at the thought.

Diego interrupted. “My defense spells triggered automatically, as the room was designed for. We were perfectly safe, at least we should have been.” He then locked eyes with me, his expression fixed.

I swallowed, shrinking down in my chair. Diego then spoke at me.

“I have heard Gregor’s account, but I would still like to hear yours.”

I sighed and tried to give him all the details I could. Including the visions and how they looked and felt.

Diego scowled when I got to the part where Gregor had triggered my emotional state. He even muttered, “Reckless.”

Looking at it now made me realize how blatant Gregor had been about it. He had deliberately provoked my strong emotional reactions. Shit. I glared at him, and to my surprise he looked embarrassed.

Relaying the rest of how I damaged their weight machine, along with how I was responsible for a hole in yet another wall, I finished with how Gregor probably stopped me from doing something even more stupid.

Nodding some more, Diego paused to consider before asking, “Tell me, Justine…You were, in your vision of Danielle being in danger, trying to reach her. Is that correct?”

I simply said, “Yes” and tried to ignore that he had used the feminine form of my name.

“That could potentially explain quite a lot. The room for magic discovery is heavily warded from incidental energetic interference, but as you were already focused on Danielle, your energy surge could have bypassed them to get to her anyway.”

Gregor interjected. “Diego, those wards were created by Master Tissilius himself. How is possible?”

Shaking his head, Diego rubbed at a temple. “Honestly, Gregor, I’m not sure. The damage to the wall clearly shows she is an Energizer of some kind, however. And even I, in that room, could feel the energy spike dramatically right before she explosively charged in. I actively had to fight to keep my shield spells from overloading simply from her presence, especially the closer she got.”

“Is how Danielle’s shield failed? Overload?” Gregor asked.

“No. Somehow Justine nullified, or removed, the base mana which fueled the spell.” Diego looked at me again. “You shouted a word when you did so. From behind my shield I could not hear it clearly. What did you say?”

I couldn’t remember. “I’m sorry, every time I try to think of it…I get nothing. It’s a blank. Same with what I shouted at the wall.”

“Is odd,” Gregor said. “I also not be remembering. But all is recording, yes? Image and sound. I check.” He went to the computer in the conference room and after logging in, he pulled up the video of what happened, starting with the gym.

We all watched me lie on the bench press, saw and heard Gregor bark at me, and then over my image, all the pixels blurred into solid white. The video did catch the bending of the bar and its protesting metal groaning simultaneously with the explosion from next door. The whiteout smear where I had been launched towards the wall, more whiteness lancing in front to pulverize it.

It wasn’t until after Gregor had tackled me as shown on the other room’s recording that the saturated pixels dimmed to resolve back into my image. Weirdly whatever I had shouted, either time, simply hadn't been caught by the recordings.

Danielle was the first to break the silence in the room.

“That was so cool!”

 

~o~O~o~

 

Gregor and Diego said they needed to discuss with other experts about what had happened, but that it would have to wait. This was decided in another Spanish back-and-forth, and I think I heard them mention Nick Wright. That was good. I was hoping to have a chance to talk to him, as I had a mess of questions of my own to throw at the guy.

Since Gregor was under pressure to have results for the Director, our two groups separated again to get on with the testing.

I asked him how much I had been able to bench, both before and during the ‘incident’. He replied ‘one-hundred ninety kilograms’ for the before amount. After I did the math, I boggled - that was over four-hundred pounds! I pushed him for how much I lifted when charged up - he told me the equipment had been damaged, any reading was unreliable. Even trying to smile sweetly at him didn’t cause him to fess up how much it was set to at the end there.

Oh well.

We crossed paths with Danielle a few more times as we went between the areas and swapped testing personnel. That left Diego tagging along with me more often than not. He would just stand off to the side and stare at me, but not in any sort of weird creeper vibe - he seemed to be deeply considering events. When asked why he kept staring, he said he was trying to analyze my ‘pattern’. I told him to knock himself out. He didn’t laugh.

They also tested my regeneration, which really hurt. As long as I kept the light energy flowing to the body part they were injuring (ow!) it always healed up within a minute or two. No scars or marks left behind at all - just blood needing to be washed off. They were being cautious about trying to get me to channel again, but I found it was becoming easier the more I used it. I even felt like that spigot of light extending from the tower was always on at least a little now, even when I wasn’t focusing on it at all. My outburst earlier may have opened it up more.

The tech that beaned me in the back of the head with a tennis ball gun in the middle of having my palm sliced for the healing testing took off running when I spun around to glare angrily at him. They all knew what I had done to that wall, so most were tiptoeing on eggshells around me. The other techs quickly tried to explain the tennis ball was part of their testing, something for precognition.

I told them where they could shove their damn ball.

In the end we got our report cards, or at least as much of them as they could provide.

Danielle was being rated, as I already had seen, a rank five Wizard. She also was marked Exemplar two with a three in Regeneration. Her snow storm issues were being evaluated as a possible Manifestor ability, but they said it was more likely a byproduct of her magical specialization due to her fae essence - so they were covering it under the Wizard rating for now.

As for me, I was apparently more complicated. Big Betty still was refusing to conclude anything, which caused Gregor to curse at the devise and then immediately apologize to it for such language. What they did note was that I was an Exemplar three, Energizer four-plus with both external and internal usages. The ‘plus’ was due to some debate about my actual potential, and it went hand-in-hand with the Wizard rating which they labeled the same way, four-plus. Their experts had received some information about the ritual Soren had performed, commenting amongst themselves about ‘new ley lines’, and kept repeating how ‘she should not have survived’. Their reactions to me varied between astonishment to outright distrust - as if I was some sort of alien deliberately messing with them.

Since I was indeed still alive and sitting right before the lot of them, Diego and Gregor had yet another argument: Diego was insisting I should be listed as a potential Wizard six or even seven, just from surviving that ritual alone. But Big Betty was rejecting that evaluation, with a caveat that an ‘anomaly in the data exists’. They also debated whether my wall destruction was a fire-based Telekinetic manifestation, or a magic/energizer effect. Diego won that one after pointing out that the amount of wall debris left behind was a lot less than it should have been from any natural blast, and so it was rolled into my Wizard rating.

Frankly, listening to them argue would have given me a headache if this new and admittedly amazing body wasn’t so darn healthy.

I even got rated with Projective and Receptive Empathy of one. The lady who helped figure that out blamed my frustrations over things for causing her to get a painful headache of her own on my behalf. Okay, so I didn’t feel any guilt over that. I’m awful, deal.

My regeneration, when I was channeling for it, was given a four. I was told that they weren’t sure if it would work while I was unconscious and not actively trying to heal. I promised them that, recent events not withstanding, I hoped to avoid any and all such situations that might knock me out again.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this they brought us sandwiches, and Danielle and I got to eat together. We didn’t say much, but I could tell her mind was spinning full tilt about the possibilities her new powers had granted. The changes to her face and hair still caught me off-guard - she seemed older somehow, yet still was quite young at the same time. In her eyes I began to see deeper calculations than I had ever observed in her before. Underneath it all was also a growing determination and inner strength - whatever she became, she was going to be one formidable woman. My sister would have been quite proud of her.

As for Danielle’s reaction to me, she seemed to slip between reacting to me as her parental figure, then trying to treat me as a friend her own age, or just looking at me like I was something totally other.

I even asked her about it when she gave me one of those weirder looks.

“It’s your eyes,” she said. “They’re very pretty, but occasionally when I look into them it feels like you are, I dunno, gazing really deep into my soul or something. Seeing everything about me: both good and horrible. Sorry, it’s just disconcerting is all.”

I thought about it for a moment and then exclaimed with a burst of intuition.

“So THAT’S why everyone kept running out of my rooms without letting me say anything!”

She giggled and gave me a hug. The whole situation we found ourselves in was totally outrageous, true, but at least we were in it together.

 

Chapter Eight - Consequences

 

“What do you mean I can’t go with you!” I whined.

Danielle was standing outside my room, with agent Jeffrey lurking nearby. We had finished the powers evaluation, been given our preliminary ratings, and released to get dinner. We had both gotten rather hungry.

After all that exertion testing a shower had been a first requirement. Danielle was kind enough to let me go first while she guarded the bathroom door - I don’t think either of us wanted me to see her without clothes. I may be equipped physically the same, but it was still far too new a development for us to be comfortable.

I quickly had gotten myself clean, returning to my room to spend some time teasing Khan with a shoelace - one that was still attached to a sneaker. I’d have to find a way to get him some new toys, as they only brought him in his crate along with minimal kitty supplies, sadly his overflowing toy basket was still stuck at my house. He still chased the shoelace anyway with gusto - I think being cooped up in the room all day had left the poor little guy bored.

After Danielle’s shower was finished (which took a lot longer than mine did), she and Jeffrey showed up to say they were going to a mall that was located really close to the facility. Danielle wanted a new phone, and needed to pick up some clothes that would fit her new physique.

She was clearly excited about the prospect of needing a whole new wardrobe, and eager to get started.

Jeffrey spoke up from over her shoulder after my protest. “I’m sorry, but you aren’t cleared to leave the facility. Being seen in public in any way could destroy the cover of your demise. Also the Director has requested to see you after you’ve eaten - as certain things, such as your new name, still need to be decided.”

Dammit, he had a point. And I will admit I wasn’t quite ready to face the public yet with these changes either.

“Is it safe for her though?” I asked.

Jeffrey nodded. “All intelligence indicates she is not currently at risk - and the mall is directly across the street from here. In addition, our armored tactical division has been notified to be on heightened alert. I will be in radio contact with them should any need arise.”

Grudgingly I accepted his points.

Danielle spoke up. “Your new name, any ideas?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t the foggiest clue. As much as a few people have called me ‘Justine’, that won’t work - it’s too similar and could put the whole point of this stupid exercise in jeopardy.”

“Oh,” she pondered. “But shouldn’t it be something that you’d react to naturally?”

I was impressed. “Yeah, you’ve got a good point. Sharp thinking, kiddo.”

She grinned at the compliment. “So maybe something beginning with ‘J’, other than Justine?”

I shrugged. “Got any suggestions?” I knew it was an important choice to deal with as I’d be stuck with it from then on, but frankly I was having a hard time caring about what name got selected. On the scales of things I was really concerned about, it ranked pretty low.

Danielle put a hand over her chin and tapped at her nose while in thought.

“How about,” she said slowly, “…Jordan? I mean, it’s both a boy and girl’s name so that might help you. It was my best friend’s name back in elementary school - at least she was my best friend until her parents discovered I was a mutant and forbid her from playing with me anymore.” She made a face at the memory.

I winced. I really hoped they could get her accepted into this special school they had in mind - someplace where she could fit in. She deserved it, she really did.

“Jordan, eh? Well…that’s not too bad, actually.” I smiled at her. “Thanks, kiddo. If I have to do this, I’d rather take a name given by family. I’ll see if they’ll let me use it.”

“Cool!” She bounced over to give me a strong hug. I figured if she broke any ribs I could heal it fairly quick, so didn’t object. After a moment she released me before looking thoughtful again.

“I’ll look for some new clothes for you too while we’re there, ok? Maybe some jeans, shirts, and some sexy lingerie!” With a rather mischievous grin she hopped towards the door.

“Hey, how would you know my sizes?” I called out to her as she rounded the corner into the hallway.

Glancing over a shoulder, she snickered. “Jeffrey has ‘em all from your files. See ya later, Jordan! Bye Khan!” She let the door close behind her and giggled her way down the hall with Jeffrey in tow.

I shook my head, but really I was laughing too. This provided enough of a distraction for Khan’s leap to grab not just the shoelace from my hand, but the entire shoe.

“Gah! Come back here with that, I need it to go to the cafeteria!”

The little bugger led me on a merry chase around my room for a few minutes, dragging the sneaker behind him with obvious glee. I finally caught him before he could wriggle under the bed, pulling him up into my arms so we could head-butt each other.

Have I mentioned that my cat is awesome? Because he totally is.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Taking a bite of the burrito I decided it indeed had been the right selection - the other option was a suspicious looking meatloaf. Whereas my burrito had chicken, onions, rice, peppers, and sour cream - yep, it would do.

The cafeteria was mostly empty - it probably was busier at lunchtime. There were only a handful of other people scattered about the open room’s tables, busily either discussing a case or typing frenetically on laptops all the while paying hardly any attention to the food they were rushing to scarf down.

They kept glancing at me, though. The looks were a mix of the men attempting to covertly ‘check out the redhead’ while others were frowning probably in speculative contemplation wondering what a young girl like me was doing there, especially one eating alone.

I tried to ignore them. Okay, I didn’t say I succeeded - only that I tried.

Meanwhile I worked my way through the surprisingly tasty burrito. Then it struck me - the guy behind the counter gave it extra ingredients. He had been too busy being distracted by my chest, hair, and yeah - me, while I was staring up at the menu contemplating if I also wanted a dessert. Exemplar memory apparently means being able to replay scenes you weren’t paying proper attention to the first time with great clarity. Useful, but also potentially disturbing. I’d been through enough to understand that for some people they can be happier with certain memories fading over time.

I didn’t want to think about that too much. It might risk discovering which of my now refreshed stored experiences would fit that bill. Instead I distracted myself with trying to come up with names to use for a new identity.

When my mind popped up with ‘Jordan Al Yankovic’, I knew I wasn’t getting anywhere. It was frustrating, how hard could it be to make up a name? And yet I kept feeling like there should be one, one more real than even my old name of Justin Andrew Thorne, yet every time I tried to grasp at it - I failed. That my subconscious wanted to be so serious about it annoyed me - names are just convenience labels others use as identifiers anyway, right?

Mentally I scanned through my perfect recall of various phone books I’d casually flipped through over the years when I was young. You know, back when such things existed and were important, unlike today where kids would just look at them funny because their phones had all that information available and much more. The clarity of the pages in my mind was incredible.

Engrossed as I was with this inner discovery, I failed to notice someone walk up to my table.

“Mind if I sit with you for a minute?”

I jumped, and in so doing the hand holding the last bite of my burrito reflexively clenched into a strength-enhanced fist.

Sour cream exploded onto my shirt. “Dammit!”

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Natalie, the counselor we saw in the hospital, awkwardly grabbed some napkins from the dispenser, handing the wad over to me.

I tried to dab my boobs clean of the mess as best I could, ignoring the lecherous grin of a guy sitting a few tables away being clearly entertained by my distress. Sighing, I told Natalie, “Eh, well, other than costing me everything I own, this shirt was free.”

She took a seat and gave me a ‘mental condition appraisal look-over’.

“This is your cue to ask me how I feel about legally being dead,” I joked weakly.

She pushed her glasses up her nose from where they had slid down. “I would say you aren’t entirely happy about the situation, as would be completely normal and expected. Although it does sound as if you haven’t given much resistance to the notion of leaving your old identity behind, which worries me that you might be in denial about the consequences.”

I shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who told me to try and be more rational about things.” I tossed the soiled crumpled napkins onto my plastic plate.

“I’m concerned about your emotional state. I heard there was an incident during powers testing?”

“C’mon, you’ve been fully briefed and would have watched the tapes by now.”

She gave the smallest hint of a smile. “Perhaps.”

“Truth, then? Of course I’m upset. The situation sucks. The future is pretty murky right now, but it’s clear I’ve lost what I had and what I was. The house I grew up in - which I inherited from my parents after my mom had her stroke - is likely going to get sold off to fund Danielle’s schooling. My career is toast until and unless I regain the necessary credentials to allow me to get back into it - if that’s even what I want to do.”

Natalie nodded, watching me closely but not interrupting while I rambled.

“There’s some evil mastermind out there who wants me dead and has super-powered minions. So rational planning is to let the bastard, whoever it is, think I’m already kaput. Hide out, figure out what powers and capacities I have, determine just what the hell has happened to me, and most important of all: keep Danielle safe.”

“Even if that means no longer being a parental figure for her?”

I stared at my plate, not doing a good a job of hiding how choked up that thought made me.

“What else can I do?” I said morosely. “Even if we both manage to get into this school, whatever its name is…”

“Whateley Academy,” she provided gently.

“Oh. Even if we both get into that place - we’d be students. And she wouldn’t be able to acknowledge me as family; my new identity cannot be related to my old one in any way or the whole deal is pointless. Me being there at all may be putting her at some risk as it is. But dammit, I…”

I didn’t finish the sentence. I had made a promise to be there for her. I had to go too.

Natalie probably had that figured out by now anyway but didn’t comment. “The security at the school will be better than the security of this DPA facility, at least from magic-based attacks and threats. Their faculty is quite accomplished and knowledgeable.”

“Yeah.” I sniffled. “That’s what I’ve been told.”

She reached into a pocket and handed me a travel-pack of kleenex. I took a tissue from it and blew my nose, and no I totally didn’t need one to wipe my eyes. Didn’t happen.

I swallowed before taking a deep breath. “So no, I don’t think I’m in denial, Natalie. I think I did alright today for the most part, except for when Gregor deliberately shoved a pointed stick at my emotions to trigger a reaction. I agree with Diego - he was reckless. Danielle, though - she enjoyed her day and is excited about it all. I’m not going to ruin that. But I understand too well that our expectations of a future with me being a parent for her have been shot all to hell. Which reminds me - has anyone talked to Mark? Director Goodman wants to push him into being Danielle’s guardian, which considering this Whateley place is a boarding school, shouldn’t be too tough for him to handle on the day-to-day part of parenting. I really don’t know who else to ask other than Mark - my friend Isaiah would probably agree, but he’s a lawyer and is busily engaged in working himself to death. Not much time in there for taking care of a wayward teen, let alone a powerful magical one, even if just for the summers.”

She left the travel pack on the table between us. “I believe the Director has spoken with Mark, yes. However, you also need to speak with him. That’s actually why I came to find you.” She smiled reassuringly.

I snorted and shook my head. “Two birds, one stone. It wasn’t the only reason. But sure, you have a phone I can use? Mine got disintegrated, you see.”

Reaching into her blazer’s pocket, she produced a smart-phone and unlocked it. “Just tap send, his number is cued up.”

I took it. “Is this connection going to be secure? If ever there was a time for me to be paranoid, this might be it.”

“It should be. And good thinking in asking.”

“Okay.” I hesitated, but tapped the screen anyway.

 

“Hello?” He sounded really groggy. They must have him on some serious pain meds.

“Mark! It’s, uh, it’s me…I’m kinda between names at the moment.”

“Oh! Are you okay? They won’t give me any details…”

“That’s because you’re in the hospital, dumbass. It’s probably not really secure there.”

“Yeah, true.”

“I’m fine, in any case. You alone?”

“For the moment, yes.”

“Good. How are you? They patch you up alright?”

“I’m stuck here for a couple more days of observation, then they’re going to send me home.”

“That’s great!” We both fell awkwardly silent, which he broke by suddenly blubbering over the phone.

“I’m so sorry! It’s my fault, and I’m so sorry, we should never have gone to the house, and now-”

“Mark? Dude, relax.” Good lord, was he crying?

“What happened - and what I ordered done - your whole life, I didn’t even give you the choice.”

Oh. “Jesus. Mark, you think if I had wanted to make a stink about things I couldn’t do so? One call to the L.A. Times and I’d have reporters up your ass if I wanted. Think of the headline! ‘Sexy redhead kidnapped and proclaimed dead by corrupt lecherous government agency - rumor of teenage mutant slave prostitution ring rattles Washington DC!’”

He choked on a laugh before groaning in pain. Oops. “Shit, sorry. Forgot you were perforated, laughing may not be a good idea.”

“Not really. But you…you aren’t mad?” The fear in his tired voice was palpable.

I answered with a sigh. “People keep asking me that. Yes, of course I’m upset about things. But that doesn’t mean I blame you. You made a smart call to protect me and Danielle.”

He fell quiet, though I could hear his breathing was rough.

“Speaking of whom - Mark, I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Whatever you need, you know I’ll do it.”

“Look, uhm, we both know that my situation has totally changed, right?”

“I’d say that’s a total understatement.”

“I’ll come right out with it then. I need you to be there for Danielle.”

“Wait a minute, I thought you both were going to try to be at the same school.”

“We are, hopefully. But that doesn’t change the facts. I can’t be her parent anymore.”

God did it hurt to say that, but I didn’t let my voice show it. At least I was hoping I didn’t.

“…I’m so sorry.”

Damn, guess I didn’t succeed. “She needs someone who can be there for her - legally and properly. Someone who doesn’t look the same age, let alone is potentially a classmate.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly. Thing is, other than her, you’re the only other family I’ve got. My parents are gone - Mom’s stroke years ago and Dad’s heart attack when I was little took care of that. So I have to ask…”

“Ask what? Name it.”

“Take Danielle in. Be her…be a father for her. She’s needed one and never…never really had one.” My voice broke again. Couldn’t help it.

“Yes she has. She has you.”

“Had. She had me.”

“No, she still has you. I know you; you’ll always watch over her. You almost died protecting her - if that’s not the act of a father, then I don’t know what is.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“But,” he continued. “Of course I’ll do it. The Director already hinted at it earlier. Legally you’re right, she’ll need it.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “She’s going to inherit my estate. Everything. You’ll have to manage that for her until she’s old enough. Give Isaiah a call - he has my will and is the executor.”

“Damn, dude,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” I said. “I have Danielle, Khan, and you’re still alive too. That’s what matters, okay? And think of it this way - you get to drive my Mustang until she gets a license.”

“The GT500??”

“Yep. The Beast.” Caroline had made me promise to splurge a little with her life insurance after, well, just after. “When I get my own affairs in order, maybe I’ll buy it off you - so don’t scratch it!”

“You buying it back could blow your cover,” he said, his agent practicality kicking in.

“Well, fuck. Guess it’s yours until Danielle swipes the keys. Not a good choice for a first car, though. Make her get a beater to learn on.”

“I promise to take good care of it. You know, your house is still a crime scene. Is there anything there that’s smallish you want? Nothing suspicious if it’s missing, mind you.”

I thought it over. “Two things: take my computer as evidence and make a duplicate of the drive, would you? And get me the copy. It’s got pictures and videos on it I don’t want to lose.” My wedding, Khan’s kitten photos, Caroline’s last few days…dammit there went the watery eyes again.

“You’ve got it. Anything else?”

“My dad’s Spanish guitar. It’s under my bed.”

“You play? I didn’t know that.”

“My dad did. He was quite good, whereas I just fooled about on it in college.”

“I think that can be managed. I know you still have all of Caroline’s stuff - maybe some of her clothes would fit you now?”

The thought of me wearing Caroline’s wardrobe made me sick to my stomach. “Hell no. Just…No.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll make some calls, have them send someone over for the computer and guitar.”

“The rest just store somewhere for Danielle, I guess. Or sell whatever makes sense to sell. The TV setup is pretty good if you need one.”

“Okay.” He sounded like he was fading, so I figured I should wrap things up.

“I don’t know when we’ll speak again, bro. But thanks. Thanks for being there - for both of us.”

“Always. Hey, I think my pain meds may have just fully kicked in.”

“Then go sleep. Get better.”

“Okay,” he said again.

“Goodbye, Mark. Take care.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Natalie.

That was that. For an entire month I had been a father for Danielle, and now that was gone. Caroline and I had kept trying for a child of our own before she got sick, in fact that’s how we discovered the first of her tumors - the infertility doctor saw them on the ultrasound after our continued failure to conceive.

A month just wasn’t long enough.

Natalie came around the table to hold me while I cried.

 

~o~O~o~

 

We went up to the Director’s office once I managed to pull myself together. Diego had just finished giving a report when we got there; he decided to stick around. Director Goodman was behind a paper-cluttered desk, his exhaustion plain to see. He said that if I had any ideas for a new name, I had to give it to him now - or else he’d let the computer pick one at random.

Natalie, Diego, and I spent the next fifteen minutes debating possible names until the Director’s patience ran out. He barked at us to just pick one and get out of there so he could finish up for the night and maybe, just maybe, finally get some sleep.

Thus that night I officially became ‘Jordan Elin Emrys’. ‘Elin’ was my idea, a Swedish variant of my sister’s name Helena (but not obvious enough to break my new cover), and Diego came up with ‘Emrys’. He claimed it was Welsh for ‘immortal’, and therefore appropriate seeing as how I had against all odds survived twice in the last week things that should have put me six feet under.

I warned him that if I died with that name, I would come back as a ghost and haunt him for it being proven wrong. He shrugged, saying it was also a last name attributed to Merlin, or Myrddin as he pronounced it - which I had to admit was actually pretty cool.

The name having been chosen, we then hashed out the skeleton of a background. It was decided that ‘Jordan’ grew up in Santa Barbara - my grandmother had lived near there, so I was familiar with the area. Goodman told me to research it further online, especially the high school, and commit the details to memory. With the way my mind was capturing anything and everything, I promised him it wouldn’t be a problem.

We debated on my official age. Physically I looked like I could be fourteen to sixteen, but I pushed for sixteen so I could enter school as a junior. I also insisted on another important detail: I told them if I wasn’t fully and legally emancipated and if I smelled any whiff of foster care or social services, then I would instantly succumb to the sweet and lucrative siren call of super-villainy. Being emancipated would allow for me to have a proper California Driver’s License without the restrictions of being a minor.

Not that I’d have a car for awhile, but dammit I’d been driving since I started college. I wanted a license.

He grumbled and tried to argue about the extra paperwork, but Natalie backed me up. She stated that not only did her evaluations show I was still fully in possession of an adult mind, but that putting any such restrictions on me contrary to that understanding could actually be detrimental to successful adjustment to the new lifestyle being forced upon me.

In short, she told him not to be a putz and take care of it properly. He exasperatedly agreed.

The Director then insisted I choose a codename for my MID, causing me to flounder. Natalie and Diego attempted to come up with some ideas, but each suggestion when checked on the computer had already been used. I could tell Goodman had had enough of us when I heard him mutter about just putting down ‘Depriver-Of-Sleep’, so I blurted out the one codename I had been internally wrestling with. It wasn’t my own idea and my feelings about the source were, to put it lightly, unpleasantly complicated.

After a moment’s silence in consideration, they all agreed it was appropriate given my powers so far - and surprisingly enough it hadn’t yet been claimed. Diego looked like he might have an objection, but then shrugged. Goodman typed it into his computer before throwing us all out of his office. He told me to go get some sleep, as we’d both likely need to be up early. He didn’t say why, and I could tell it was best to not question or argue with him any further. See? Adult mind, I have one, yep. Neener.

Diego decided that my re-christening required libation and, despite protestations that it wasn’t necessary, led Natalie and me to his own office. It was a smaller room than the Director’s, and made even smaller still due to the stacks and stacks of books on shelves, tabletops, and the floor. I was impressed - my home had its own overflowing shelves, but even that didn’t compare to the magnitude of his disorganized clutter. Sitting behind his desk, he reached into a hidden mini-fridge and proceeded to open one of those miniature bottles of champagne he ‘just happened to have’. He had a real glass tucked away for himself - Natalie and I had to use a pair of red plastic cups. Guess he didn’t usually share his office stash.

They both toasted me, the new Jordan Elin Emrys. We clicked cups and glass, and sipped. It was actually pretty good stuff.

Diego followed up with another salutation to my new codename: I was also now officially the meta-human known as ‘Aradia’.

As I drank the fizzy wine, I wondered if Soren would laugh once he found out that I had adopted the name he had said to me, or whether he would just nod as if it all had been foretold and therefore inevitable.

I wanted the chance to deck him either way.

We didn’t linger once the short bottle was empty, and I returned to my room. After feeding my hungry little fluff-monster, I changed back into sweatpants and climbed into the bed. I wondered how Danielle’s shopping was going, the mall would probably close soon in any case. Physically I still felt fine, but mentally and emotionally I was exhausted. I decided not to wait up.

Khan crawled up to perch on my chest and do his sucker-kitty thing on the blanket. I scritched behind his ears and stroked their cute puffs of hair that he had from being a Maine Coone. That caused his ears to flick at me a few times, so I laughed and stopped teasing them - moving my hand to just pet softly along his back.

As I drifted off to the comforting sensations of his low rumbling purrs, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that all the names chosen weren’t truly right and therefore only temporary.

Whether it was just my subconscious rebelling against the loss of my old identity or something else, I decided I didn’t give a crap. The new names would just have to do.

I fell into a light sleep, stirring briefly when I heard Danielle get back with Jeffrey and go into her room.

Satisfied that she was okay, I then let deep slumber reach out and claim me.

 

Chapter Nine - Comfort

 

The ocean lay flat with calm waves, and the sky held nothing but empty blue - no clouds, no birds, and no glimmering city high above. There was no sun yet horizon to horizon filled with a uniform light casting an odd circular shadow around my slender toes.

A boulder extruded upward from the edge of the cliff, perched upon it was a man. Picking my way carefully over small stones and thin grass I approached him, trying to make out what details I could.

He saw and waved me closer. Taller than I and with a slim yet muscled build, he sat crosslegged upon the beige stone in blue jeans and t-shirt. His hair, a wild collection of curly sandy-brown, twirled in the breeze, and his feet, like mine, were bare.

His eyes - they were as blue as the sky above, gleaming with the same hidden light, beckoning with a wisdom and compassion that belied the youth of his features. Those eyes echoed a deep treasure of experience, and yet remained unsullied and pure in their view of the world before them.

“Where am I?” I asked, the words drifting into the wind.

He offered a hand to aid my ascension to his stony vista. His grip was strong and confident, without effort he pulled me up. I also wore jeans but had on a girl’s sleeveless purple shirt decorated with gold patterns dancing along the low-cut collar.

He replied in a voice filled with kindness and also a quiet authority. “You are in a place between.”

I moved to sit beside him, resting my chin on a pulled up knee and we faced the deeper blue of the ocean before us. “Somehow I think you mean that both literally and metaphorically.”

His laugh was genuine and full of joy. “Perhaps I do. Would I be wrong?”

“An awful lot has changed for me over the past few days, so metaphorically you’re definitely on target. But I had intended the literal question - where are we?”

“Some would say that we are at a boundary between dream and spirit, between the above and below.”

“What of you? Would you say the same?”

He smiled, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I would say that we are here.”

I returned his smile. “I’d ask who I am and what’s happened to me, but I have a feeling you won’t answer those directly either.”

He gently squeezed my shoulder. “Who you are is up to you to decide; your actions, your choices, they will lead you forward and no matter which way you travel, you will in the end discover only yourself.”

“I’ve been forcibly changed already, though I will grant that it was ultimately triggered by my own decisions.”

“Have you? Or have events simply exposed a deeper layer - one that has always been hidden below the surface?”

“Are you trying to tell me that I’ve always been trans - always wanted to be a girl?”

He shook his head. “That is not for me to tell. But ask yourself: as comfortable as you were before, are you truly uncomfortable now?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Then perhaps you have something new to ponder until next time.”

“Next time? Wait, I have so many more questions-”

He laughed merrily again. “As do we all. At this moment, however, you are needed and should return.”

So saying he pushed my shoulder forward, causing me to slide off the suddenly slick stone and fall towards the water below.

 

A phone was ringing.

Startled awake, I fumbled disoriented towards the sound, trying to figure out how my cell phone had acquired such a strange new ring-tone. Khan meeped in annoyance as I dislodged him from the cozy perch atop my head and pillow.

Senses unscrambled and pointed out the inner-facility phone on the desk by the computer setup as being the ringing source. Stumbling over to it, I picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Jus…I mean, Jordan, uhm don’t panic but I need some help in here.” It was Danielle.

“What’s wrong?” She had gotten back safe…what had happened?

“Seriously, like I said, don’t panic, okay? I’m fine, the effects just stopped, other than I really need to pee.”

“The bathroom is down the hall,” I said, becoming more confused. “Aren’t you in your room?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m stuck. The door, uh, the door is kinda frozen over.”

I faced the wall between our rooms, reaching inward for that tower of light in case I needed to once more open an unplanned passage. My hands began to glow with that inner whiteness.

“Quit it!” She yelled it loudly enough that I also heard her through the wall. “Just stop, I can feel you powering up from here! I must have frozen the whole room while I was asleep, there’s a layer of frost on everything and it piled up the most over the door. Just get Diego, or someone, so they can, I dunno, defrost this mess, okay? Don’t go blasting anything, sheesh!”

I let go of the breath I was holding and in so doing let go of that inner source. My hands faded quickly to normal while I checked the clock on the phone. “It’s only six a.m., Diego is probably still at home. But I bet Gregor is in his lab already. If I can’t reach anyone, I’ll hunt someone down.”

“Yeah. Just don’t take too long, my bladder is going to burst.”

“Roger that. I’m on it.”

“Thanks.” She hung up on me.

Closing my eyes, I brought up the memory of Gregor’s lab and the phone wedged between the odd pieces of gizmotronics he had stacked on the desk in there. On a label taped to the phone was its extension number. I gave it a try.

He answered. “Da, is Gregor.”

“Gregor, it’s uh, it’s Jordan. You know, from testing yesterday.”

“Yes! Hallo! Up early? Is good, day waits for no one, yes?”

“Look, we’ve got a situation up here. Danielle’s ice has got her door frozen stuck. She can’t get out of her room.”

“Frozen? Ah ice, yes, young girl’s power. I come up. I have heat wand, very efficient. Should assist.”

“Thank you.”

I shouted through the wall. “Gregor is coming, think he may have a devise that will help.”

She shouted back. “Good!”

I went out to the hallway to wait for Gregor, and sure enough the door to Danielle’s room had a layer of ice that crept out from below to flow up over most of the door along with a good portion of the wall. I wondered if I could punch it out, but thought better of it.

Gregor was true to his word and arrived quickly, holding a square metal box by a wooden handle glued to its top. It had a corrugated metal tube running out to the bottom of a three foot metal stick he held tight in his other hand.

“Step back, please,” he said to me. I obliged.

Waving the wand-stick towards the door, his thumb flicked a switch on its side causing the metal box to hum ominously. The tip became red-hot as waves of heat radiated outward. He passed it back and forth over the door.

The ice melted rapidly in response to his devise, water pooling out over the hallway floor.

“Is inside, too, yes?” Gregor asked.

Danielle answered through the door. “Yeah! It’s totally covered in here.”

“Is special room. On floor in center, lift carpet square. Is drain.”

A moment later Daniell called out, “Found it!”

“Stay back from door. Three feet minimum. No wish burn you with wand!”

He adjusted a couple settings on the square box’s small dials, then aimed the glowing wand at the door again.

“It’s working!” Danielle called out.

“Yes, good. Wand send heat behind door. Quantum tunnel effect, door not be burned.”

I just stayed out of his way while he worked. He was humming to himself as he went, until he reached the floor again.

“Door should be free to open. Heat wand turned off, is safe now.”

The door flew instantly open with Danielle darting past us down the hallway wearing some new dark green silk pajamas. “Thanks, Gregor!” She rammed the door to the women’s restroom with her shoulder to open it as she went in. I could hear the door’s mounting screws creak in protest, but they held.

“She really had to go.” I said with a grin.

He chuckled. “Is good I arrive early. Day waits for no one, as I said!”

We both stepped inside her room to survey the damage. Gregor whistled. “Is like cold snap in motherland.”

I had to agree. Other than her bed, every surface was covered in a thick coating of ice. The floor itself was frozen towards the center where a large shower drain now lay exposed next to a grey carpet patch Danielle must have pulled loose.

“See? Room designed for wet. Is good, walls and floor no get mildew once surface dry. Indoor-outdoor carpet, yes?”

He busily set about applying his devise to the rest of the room. This time his humming became soft singing to himself as he worked.

Danielle returned showing clear relief. I gave her a hug. “You okay? Did you have a bad dream?”

She shrugged with exasperation. “No, that’s just it. I was sleeping fine…and then woke up to the ice, frost just creeping over everything. I could feel I was causing it too, but I couldn’t control it. So I called your phone when you didn’t wake up to me thumping on the wall. Thing is, that’s when it stopped. Whew, I really couldn’t hold it much longer.” She grinned.

Gregor paused his work to stare at us. “You say power stop - before or after phone ring in next room?”

Danielle thought about it, then answered, “After. That’s when I heard Jordan try to get to it.”

He turned his eyes to me. “And you…you were sleeping, yes? Any dreams?”

“Me?” I asked, but thought about it. “Yes, I did wake up from a dream. An interesting one, too.”

“Not scary? Share details, please.” Gregor turned off his heat wand to listen.

“Not much to say, really,” I said. “I was on a cliff and met a man there. He was friendly, and we talked.”

Danielle was curious. “What did he say?”

I shook my head. “Not much, he was being mystically vague to be honest, but what do you expect from a dream guy? When I asked him where we were, he said, and I quote, ‘Some would say that we are at a boundary between dream and spirit, between the above and below.’”.

Gregor’s bushy eyebrows raised together. “Most interesting. In fact, I have theory. Come.”

He carefully put down his devise and led us both back into my room. I made sure we closed the door behind us so Khan wouldn’t run out, though Danielle had immediately gone over to pick him up so I needn’t have worried.

Gregor went straight to the computer terminal on my desk, logging in to his own account. “I need permission from you both. Sensors in rooms, they record to secure disk. But we will not access unless you say is good.”

I wondered how true that was, but debating it right now wasn’t going to get us any answers. “Fine with me. Danielle?”

She nodded. “Yeah, okay. What are you looking for, Gregor?”

He waved a hand before two-finger typing on the keyboard again. “Will know when find.” On the screen, images of both our rooms appeared side by side along with matching timestamps under the frames. He skipped backwards in time until Danielle’s room was free of all ice, and then let it play forwards. We were both asleep in our beds; the lights were off but the camera had low-light capability.

It changed in my frame first.

My face and hair, the only parts of me visible from under the blanket, started glowing brightly while I was still asleep. The camera system had a hard time compensating for the brightness, so my image kept getting washed out. But we watched my whole head start to flicker, the light strobing the room without discernible pattern.

Gregor slowed down the replay, eventually going frame-by-frame. The ones where my light wasn’t shining, it looked like my pillow was empty - I wasn’t there in those frames at all. “What the hell?” I said in shock.

He zoomed in on the picture to examine closely. I wasn’t fully gone, but my whole head had gone ghostly translucent.

He let the video play forward normally again. Khan woke up from his spot curled into a ball at the end of my bed. He got up, stretched, and ignoring the crazy strobe light show I was emanating, he walked up along the edge of the bed before reaching out his white-socked foreleg to put one paw gently on my forehead.

The strobing of the light stopped instantly. I just had a solid bright glow from my face and crimson gold streamers shining from my hair. My image proceeded to remain steady while the intensity of the light pulsed more slowly. Khan lay down on my pillow with his front paws and chin resting atop my iridescent head.

“How did he do that?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“Look!” Danielle pointed at the frame from her room where she had been sleeping peacefully. We watched snow start to swirl through her room - even more weird was that every time my light pulsed brighter, the mystic wind in hers would gust the ice about with more vigor.

The frost slowly covered her room, windows, and door. She rolled over in her bed and snowflakes landed on her face, irritating her nose as they melted upon her skin to drip into a nostril. Her pale blue eyes opened, blinking a few times before she sat up quickly to stare at the growing snowstorm swirling about her room.

Her frustration when it wouldn’t stop could be seen clearly. She hopped out of her bed, tried to open her frozen-locked door, and then she banged on the wall to my room.

Khan looked over at the sound, meowed, but didn’t move off my head. I remained obliviously asleep.

Danielle picked up the phone on her own desk and punched my extension. It rang on my side, which is when my eyes opened.

Two things happened simultaneously: the white glow of my skin along with the reddish copper shine from my hair ceased entirely, and Danielle’s snowstorm fluttered out.

Gregor paused the playback. “Cause is clear. Is you.” He pointed at me.

“Ah shit.” I sank back down onto my bed.

Danielle asked worriedly, “Is this going to happen every time Jordan sleeps? And why was she fading in and out there at the start?”

“Will need Diego to watch,” Gregor said, one hand pulling on his beard. “For now, I clean room. You two get breakfast, yes? To Diego’s office after - usual arrival by time you finish meal. All meet there.”

Danielle looked down at her silk pajamas then whimpered. “Oh no…all my new clothes, they’re gonna be soaked by that ice. Same with the ones I got Jordan.”

With a snort, Gregor waved a hand. “Bah. I set heat wand to safe-dry. Better than dryer, yes? You see. No wrinkles.”

Looking dubious, Danielle went back to her room with Gregor in tow. I sat quietly, petting my buddy who had decided my lap was now appropriate to occupy. Looking down at his happy purring, I pondered what he had done. Was his touch just enough to pull me back from…well, back from wherever I was going?

Could I just disappear in the middle of my sleep? That was a scary notion. I thought of the guy in my dream and wondered if I had been shifting myself into the dream somehow, or that plane of dimensional existence or whatever the heck that ‘between’ place was.

Man, I really needed some lessons and guidance on this crazy stuff and fast. Before I really screwed something up more than just holes in walls or triggering another of Danielle’s indoor blizzards.

After a few minutes she knocked on my door, coming back in holding a pile of clothes. She had put on light blue jeans along with a t-shirt sporting a single yellow Despicable-Me Minion who was holding a red apple with a gleeful expression. The style was the same as her usual choice in clothing, but the changes to her figure were still stunning. Where before she had softer and yes, plumper, curves - she was now a lithe, fit, and sharply defined young woman.

“Jordan? I got you these - I hope you don’t mind. And that they fit okay.” She was biting her lower lip as she hesitantly offered me the pile.

Trying to reserve judgment, I took the clothes. “What did you get?”

“Uhm, a pair of jeans, some underwear, a shirt, and also got you a bra - based on the sizes Jeffrey gave me.”

“What sizes am I, anyway?”

She told me. Dang, nice measurements. And no, I’m not going to repeat them - a girl needs some mysteries, right?

“Want some help with the bra?” She asked, unsure how I would react.

I laughed. “Yeah, I might need it. I’ve only got practice taking them off, never on.”

She giggled but only relaxed a little; I could tell by the tautness across her shoulders.

After dislodging my kitty with the bribe of him getting his breakfast first, I stripped out of the sweatpants and sweatshirt. Danielle was standing there awkwardly as if she didn’t know if she should look away or not - I decided to ease her mind on that score.

“What’cha think? I come out alright?” I posed dramatically for her, standing like a Greek goddess statue on display.

She whistled appreciatively. “Wow. And I thought my changes were amazing. Dang, Jordan, you’re going to have to beat guys off with a baseball bat!” Realizing what she just said, she blushed a bright shade of red. “Oh, oh I’m sorry!”

Naked as I was, I pulled her into another hug while managing another laugh. “Don’t be, hon. Because you’re right and I’m going to have to learn to deal with it. Now hand me those panties, would you? Purple, eh? With lace?”

Still flushed, she handed them over. “I thought they were pretty,” she said with a hint of defensiveness.

I held them up as if admiring them. “And so they are! Thanks!”

Bending over to put them on still felt totally different - what with new orbs up top dangling free and not having anything dangling between the legs below. The dream stranger’s question crossed my mind again as I straightened up to take the offered jeans.

Was I uncomfortable? My body was so radically changed in its proportion and configuration - heck it even moved different. But was it wrong?

I struggled to get the jeans on - Danielle had purchased a pair which seemed rather tight. It took me a fair amount of hopping up and down, much to her amusement, to finally get them up and over my rear, even with said backside being the lovely toned shape it was. “Dammit,” I muttered.

“They’re skinny jeans,” she said with a grin. “They’re a pain to get on, but they look hawt!”

Finally managing to get them buttoned I commented, “Isn’t that the style that can cut off blood circulation and kill you?”

She shrugged. “Only if you’re crazy enough to buy ones that are truly too small. I think those fit you, actually.”

I tried moving around in them, kicking a leg up a lot higher than I ever would have imagined before. They pressed tightly, especially between the legs - but nothing was there to get in the way. “Huh, guess you’re right. Next up then - lets get my boobs strapped in.” I picked up the proffered bra, noting it too was purple with lace. “This looks expensive.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t want to get you cheap ones. I still had some cash from all the donated help I got when Mom died.” She paused then said, “And Jeffrey and I talked last night. About things.”

“Oh?” Remembering how Caroline put on her own bra, I pulled the stretchy back part around to the front of my stomach, hooked in the little hooks, then spun it back about before trying to put my arms through the straps.

“Here, let me adjust it for you.” Danielle moved behind me and worked on the sliding shoulder straps after I popped myself into the front supports.

“What things did you discuss?” I asked, while making sure the ‘girls’ were properly positioned behind the silky lace contraption.

She sighed as she plopped onto my bed. “What happens from here, mostly.” Her white hair swept across the side of her face. I resisted an urge to reach out and push it back over a slightly pointed ear.

“I think we try to get into this school for mutants: me as a junior, and you as a freshman.”

“Yeah, but I’ll probably have to spend the rest of the summer with Uncle Mark once he’s out of the hospital.”

‘Uncle’ Mark. Ouch, that stung, though I tried not to show it. “Afraid so, kiddo. Fall semester won’t start for about another month.”

“But what about you?”

I couldn’t resist any longer and gently brushed the hair away from her young and beautiful face. “Not sure. They’ll want to tuck me away somewhere else, I’d imagine. Maybe even send me to the school early to spend the rest of summer there if I get in.”

“If?” She frowned.

“Yes, if. I’ll need a scholarship of some kind. It’s possible the Director can get me a work-study thing for it, but we don’t know yet. Before he can apply on my behalf he has to get my new identity all set up. Should be done today, though - he said his team had programs to auto-generate a lot of that kind of thing.”

Khan, content with his repast, emitted a short meow and brushed against her legs as they dangled from the bed. She scooped him up into her lap. “I don’t like the idea of going there if you’re not there too.”

I smiled. “I feel the same way. But don’t worry, something will work out, okay?”

She nodded slowly, not really convinced. “Jeffrey also told me about all your money and stuff. I know I won’t have full access to it until I’m eighteen, but if you need anything…?”

Shaking my head, I joined in on the kitty scritching. “No good, hon. We don’t want folks to know our relationship. We’ll have to meet at the school as students, anything beyond that could generate suspicion.”

“That sucks.”

“It is what it is, kiddo. Think of it this way: in a few years we’ll graduate and look back on all this with a laugh.” I smiled. “Now let me get some shoes on, then hand over the shirt you kindly bought for me as I don’t want to go to breakfast in just jeans and a bra. Might cause some poor guy to have a stroke.”

She giggled.

I pulled on the socks and shoes I had been given yesterday for powers testing. The question from my dream still echoed up from the back of my mind.

As I laced up the sneakers I realized that in truth I wasn’t uncomfortable. I felt healthy and natural - and my breathing was amazingly free and easy. The sensations and movement were different, sure, but they were smooth and dare I say it, almost elegant and graceful - terms I’d never have used to describe myself before.

More still - it didn’t bother me. Socially I was extremely nervous about things, sure - but physically?

Physically I felt great.

Danielle handed me the shirt, and I held it up to look at it.

It was purple, sleeveless, and had a familiar golden stitched accent. It was what I had been wearing in my dream - an exact match.

After putting it on without a word, I took her hand in mine. We walked like that all the way down to breakfast.

 

Chapter Ten - Revelations

 

Breakfast included a tasty mix of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs. Having our exemplar natures explained during powers testing, neither of us were worried about our figures so we dug in with the same gusto Khan displayed whenever food was placed in front of him.

Yes, some of the ladies consuming only coffee and perhaps a piece of fruit gave us a few dirty looks. Danielle and I just grinned and made more obnoxious ‘yum’ comments as we poured on the syrup.

We even went back for extra bacon, just because.

There wasn’t much conversation between us; I think we were still trying to process what had just happened and knew neither of us had any real clues. Hopefully the experts like Diego would be able to explain.

When finished we went up to Diego’s office, hoping he’d be there. He was - and not alone either. Gregor and, to my surprise, Nick Wright were inside.

I stopped at the doorway to stare at Nick. He had on a different chaotic tie (reds and purples, which in a weird way made him match my hair and shirt) while his coat of many pockets was draped over the back of a chair in front of Diego’s desk. I suppressed the sudden urge to punch Nick right in the jaw, but what had happened truly wasn’t his fault - if he hadn’t shown up, I may never have found Danielle. Yet part of me still wanted to blame him. The bandages on his hands, though, left me guilty for feeling that way. Conflicting emotions much? Nah.

He did flinch under my glare when he noticed us, which was admittedly satisfying.

Diego, standing behind his desk, spoke. “Welcome ladies, please come in.” Gregor rose from his chair and offered it to Danielle; Nick kept staring at me so after a long moment Gregor kicked his chair which got Nick to rise and offer it to me as well.

I declined and stood next to a towering piles of books.

Danielle went over to Gregor’s offered chair. “Anyone going to tell me who this is?” She pointed at Nick.

I answered. “That’s Nick, the guy who showed up and led me to where you were being held.”

“Oh!” Danielle, who hadn’t sat down yet, turned to wrap her arms around a very surprised Nick. “Thank you! I could have died if you hadn’t gotten my uncle to me.”

Yeah, now I felt really bad for glaring at Nick like that, so I just studied the wooden floor. He stiffened in her embrace, returning her hug awkwardly. “Just uh…Just glad I could help.”

She beamed at him and sat down.

Diego cleared his throat. “Gregor was filling in Mr. Wright and myself on what transpired during the night. Ah, and also what occurred when Jordan went back to her house with Agent Boone.”

Right. Business now, emotions later. I sighed and looked back at Nick who mouthed ‘Jordan?’ at me. I shrugged, then asked him, “Any ideas on what Soren did to me?”

“Maybe,” Nick said seriously. “I have some theories, at least.” He reached over to rummage in his coat. I began to wonder if there was a classic D&D bag of holding wedged somewhere in those pockets. He fished out the most ornate and gaudy golden ring I had ever seen - it was huge, with mystic engravings covering the surface surrounding an embedded crystal. At least, I hoped it was a crystal - a diamond that large would have been worth a fortune. His mummy-wrapped hands fumbled the ring and it hit the floor with a loud thunk before rolling over to rest against my shoe.

I bent over to pick it up. When I touched it I might as well have turned on a helicopter searchlight as the crystal immediately blinded anyone looking in my direction.

“Shit!” I snapped my other hand over the top of the ring, blocking out most of the glow but leaving my hand iridescently red as the light tried to shine through anyway.

Nick gaped at me. “It’s never reacted like that before.”

“What the hell is it?” I crossed over to Diego’s desk, and careful to not blind us all, managed to deposit the ring on the desk’s surface.

It went dark the moment I was no longer touching it. Nick picked it up after testing to make sure it hadn’t gotten hot. “It’s rumored to have been one of King Solomon’s rings. With the proper incantations it’s useful for mapping ley energy structures underground.”

Diego nodded. “I believe that confirms a few ideas.”

I crossed my arms as I stepped back against the books. “Feel free to share, guys.”

Nick put the weird ring into a coat pocket - a different one from where he’d pulled it - then sat back in the empty chair he had tried to vacate for me. “It means, as best as we can determine, you’re more than a normal projective Energizer. You’re a living mystical energy well.”

Gregor coughed. “Such should not be possible. Wizard should be consumed by such a thing, yes?”

Nick shrugged. “Weird things happen. You’ve seen the reports on Tennyo, right?”

From behind his desk, Diego slowly sat as well. “Those are classified, Mr. Wright. And not all of us present have clearances.” He motioned towards me and Danielle.

“Whatever,” Nick waved him off. “What matters is that Jordan here is a mobile personification of a ley line. It explains Danielle’s hobgoblin issues.”

“Hobgobblins? What?” Danielle said, obviously confused. That made two of us.

Diego explained. “When a wizard has gathered more energy than they can use or control, the magic can leak - creating what is known as ‘hobgobblins’ due to how they may manifest. In your case, instead of small magical troublesome creatures, your magic generates a miniature blizzard around you.”

“Even when I’m asleep?” Danielle’s eyes were wide.

“Not normally,” Nick said reassuringly. “Only when you’re just one room away from an active energy node that is saturating the environment. For any wizard without a potential as large as yours seems to be, the effects of such saturation could be crippling if not fatal - their energy structure could overload and be very seriously damaged. Think of it this way, most folks would be like a rubber fork. Stick it into a live outlet and nothing happens. A wizard, though, is like a fork made of copper.” He looked over at me ruefully. “You’re very lucky your niece is one of the Sidhe and therefore has the capacities she does. Otherwise you could have killed her.”

“And otherwise Soren’s spell would have killed her too,” I said, comprehension scarily beginning to dawn.

“Exactly. I suspect he knew that, and after examining things in that storage unit-”

I finished his thought for him. “You think I was his true target all along. Otherwise this Tsáyid guy would not have tried to kill me. Soren’s spell was meant for me.”

Diego, Gregor, and Nick all nodded their heads in agreement.

Danielle asked, “The spell in the unit was designed to turn Jordan into this energy well thing? And also, you know, change him to her?”

Nick winced. “Hard to say. I am still having trouble understanding it. I’m like a second year calculus student trying to make sense out of a PhD candidate’s dissertation on abstract group theory.”

“Huh?” Danielle blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Math had never been one of Danielle’s strong points in school. Maybe that would change. I could hope.

I smiled at her. “It means he’s like a kindergartner trying to understand someone doing college math.”

“Oh.”

Nick grumbled under his breath about that being too much of an exaggeration.

Gregor interjected. “This spell, architected for this specific effect? If so, much concern if repeated. Implications of mobile energy source of such apparent magnitude troubling, yes?”

Shaking his head, Nick said, “I don’t think we need to worry about Callas duplicating the spell. By itself it should have obliterated anyone who walked in there. Danielle’s chair was attuned to protect someone with fae essence, though admittedly it couldn’t block everything. Thus it stripped away part of her humanity and in the process looks to have supercharged her fae nature. I think the spell was designed to set up a standing wave of magic in that unit based on specific resonances, attuned to a number of artifacts. Anyone going in there should have been ripped apart - body and soul. Yet Justin - sorry, Jordan - survived. She’s unique, and Callas had to have known it.” He paused, staring at me in consideration.

“How? I can see you have an idea, Nick. You’re just not saying it.” I was getting angry. I needed to know, especially after discovering I was dangerous just by being asleep.

“I’m…I’m not one-hundred percent positive yet about the idea, to be honest. I’m not sure it should be said until then.” His expression was torn.

Gregor came to my defense. “Is, how you say, bullshit. You say lesser mage could have died last night being in next room. She, and we, need all information possible. Or else preventable disaster not avoided.”

Nick looked to Diego who stayed silent. Diego’s brows were narrowed with his own internal thoughts.

A voice from the doorway startled us.

“Tell her.”

Director Goodman stood at the office entrance, fixing Nick with a glare.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Nick protested.

“Do it. That’s an order, Nicolas.”

Nick ran a hand over his buzzed scalp and sank deeper into his chair.

“I believe her spirit isn’t human.”

“What? What am I, then?” I growled.

“An angel. I believe you’re an angel.”

The room went silent until Danielle exclaimed with widening eyes, “Holy shit!”

I tried to speak, what came out was a strained whisper. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Nick sighed. “I don’t know for certain, but it fits. It shouldn’t be possible, but it fits.”

Diego shifted in his chair. “An angel incarnate? Not an avatar talent channeling the powers of one?”

Nodding, Nick straightened up. “Yes.”

“How do you figure?” Diego probed.

“Because,” Nick said as he gestured abstractly. “Immediately after she managed to get Danielle out of that storage room, I checked. One spirit was present in her new body, and one only. And your own powers testing did not reveal any avatar traits or patterns, am I right?”

Gregor nodded slowly. “Yes. None from Big Betty’s report. Only anomaly. This might explain.” He looked over at me, his bushy eyebrows hanging over eyes lost in amazement at the idea…and at me.

Diego reached under his desk and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, setting it on his desk. He then stared at it wordlessly.

The Director crossed into the office. “This conversation is now classified, you all understand?” He looked at us each in turn with his expression seriously intent, his gaze lingering on Danielle. “It’s not to be discussed outside a secure location. Ever.” Danielle nodded vigorously.

Turning to Nick, Goodman asked, “What do you need to confirm or deny your theory?”

Nick blinked. “Uh, short of asking Callas directly? I’m not sure. Maybe go to Jerusalem and talk to the priests and rabbis there.”

Diego gave in and poured himself a glass. He poured another for Gregor in a plastic cup while he said, “I know the notion of an incarnate angel has been debated before. But as I understand it they would live their lives as normal humans, not be living wellsprings of raw energy. They’d be very hard to detect in all actuality. Much like humans with fragments of fae spirits living within them are hard to find unless they manifest due to mutation or other circumstance.”

Nick nodded. “I know. Being an angel is not enough to make sense of her energetic ability. Unless its interaction with Callas’ spell specifically would lead to that result. Which is why I need a lot more research - there are many types of angels according to lore, after all.”

Diego took a deep drink from his glass before staring at Nick thoughtfully. “Could Soren’s spell be generically designed to awaken one?”

Frowning, Nick replied. “I don’t know. This one seemed awfully specific. Although maybe it could be adapted to do that?”

Putting the drink down forcefully on his desk with a loud clink, Diego looked up at the Director. “Everyone involved with the examination of the storage facility needs to be cleared and their backgrounds re-checked. All data involved needs to be either destroyed or moved to our most secure locations. Priority one, Elliot. Lock it all down, and do it yesterday.”

Goodman studied the DPA’s local magic expert who was obviously greatly disturbed by something. “Explain, Martin.”

“It’s simple,” Diego said as his fingers spun around his glass where it sat. “Not all angels are holy and full of light.” He raised the glass towards me with a slightly haunted smile. “Some are fallen. And some,” he shook his head, “some are waiting to wake up which could trigger an apocalyptic level event. If not the actual biblical Apocalypse.”

“Not good.” Gregor was pulling furiously on his beard.

The Director’s expression hardened further. “It will be done. What else should we be doing regarding Jordan specifically? Anything?”

Nick blinked. “She needs training and practice to control her abilities. But she will need someone cognizant of the appropriate resonances.”

Gregor spoke up again. “You intend send her to Whateley, yes? Is good. First brother is there.”

I couldn’t help it. “How many brothers do you have?”

Smiling shyly, Gregor answered. “Papa Kirov, he important man in Russia. Design space station, yes? Brilliant Gadgeteer. He have many marriages, many children - very virile! Most siblings still in old country - but one wife, she is Jewish. He adored her beauty, yet politically was troublesome. Mother brought us sons here to West. Eldest brother Immanuel, he recently moved to Whateley, invited to teach for year. Religious subjects. He is powerful Kaballist and wisest of my brothers. He can teach you, or I shave beard.” He tugged on it in emphasis.

Nick brightened. “Rabbi Kirov is there? Elliot,” he said looking back at the Director, “that’s perfect. I can’t think of anyone better.”

Goodman nodded at him. “Then we better get her accepted to Whateley. Mr. Wright, put yourself on the next flight to Jerusalem. Get that information.” After Nick agreed, Goodman turned to me and said, “Follow. We have a phone call to make.” He strode purposefully from the book-covered office.

I walked after him, my head still spinning. An angel? How the hell could I be an angel…my naive belief in God died years ago.

Did that make me one of the fallen too?

 

~o~O~o~

 

The Director led me to a conference room equipped with a large television screen taking up one entire wall. He asked me to bide a moment while he took care of something first and picked up the phone sitting in the center of the expensive looking table. He wasted no time in barking instructions to whoever was on the other end of the line, ordering the consolidation of all materials regarding the ‘Nexus Site’, and that all involved personnel with details of the site be recalled, debriefed, and re-cleared. He further gave instruction that ‘all markings and sigils’ were to be sandblasted clean - and if that didn’t work, to demolish all the covered walls, floors, and ceilings and to pulverize the remains. Whoever he was talking to tried to argue in protest, but the Director then tossed out terms like ‘National Security’, ‘State of Emergency’, and ‘Eminent Domain’.

The person on the other end by that point had lapsed into ‘yes sir’ and ‘very well, sir’. I could hear that much.

They hung up.

Goodman let his eyes slide over to me. “You alright?” he asked, his tone shifting from unquestioned command to one of genuine concern. The sudden change was disconcerting.

I shook my head. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“To be expected.” He inhaled and let it out slow, a gesture I well understood.

“Was that a tough phone call just now?” I asked.

He emitted a short chuckle. “Not at all. It’s the one we’re about to make.”

“Oh.”

“Best to get it over with. It’ll be a video call, hence the conference room.”

I tried to smile encouragingly, albeit admittedly confused as I thought we were about to call a school. How hard could that be?

Using the cordless keyboard, he brought up a secure web-conferencing application. He even pulled out his key-chain, and entered the number from his RSA fob before plugging it into the keyboard’s usb port.

A window appeared on the wall-display before us, revealing a dark-haired man wearing what looked like some kind of military uniform.

“Whateley Academy Security, Lieutenant Colin Forsyth, acting officer on duty. Identification, please.”

“Elliot Goodman, West Coast Director, Department of Paranormal Affairs. Sending credentials now.”

The Director clicked a button with the mouse and waited.

“Credentials received and approved. Good morning, Director. How can we at Whateley be of assistance?”

“I have a priority alpha need to communicate with Headmistress Carson.”

“Uh sir, you realize she’s on her summer vacation and not presently at Whateley? I can transfer you to Dean of Students Mrs. Shugendo-”

“No.” Goodman shook his head. “This conversation requires Mrs. Carson. Get her on the phone, son.”

“She’s not going to like that, sir.”

“Of course she’s not, Lieutenant. But you will get her on this call even if I have to disturb the President himself and conference him in.”

“The President, sir?” His eyes bugged out to the size of saucers. “I’ll…I’ll see what I can do, sir. Please hold.”

“Holding.” The video-chat window went dark.

“The President?” I asked Goodman with astonishment equal to the Lieutenant’s.

He gave me a wolf-like grin. “Sounded good, didn’t it? And given the situation as we just came to understand it, his involvement if required might even be appropriate. With the number of paranormal events across the city that started this all, I bet he’d take the call.”

We stood before the screen and waited. The Director folded his arms behind his back as if at parade rest. I just crossed my arms and realized I needed Danielle to adjust my left bra-strap a bit more as it was too tight and pinching. Ow.

The chat window flickered back to life, revealing a rather strikingly beautiful woman wearing a straw hat, sun-glasses, and holding a margarita. From the angle, she must have been using a laptop on her knees while slightly reclined, possibly in a lounge-chair.

“Hello Elliot. I should have expected this.” Her expression left no doubt as to how she felt about being disturbed.

“Hello Elizabeth. Why would you have expected me to ring? We haven’t spoken in years.”

“Tell me first why you’re calling, I may explain after.” If the tone of her words could freeze us, we’d have been more frozen than Danielle’s poor room.

“My agency needs a favor.” Goodman was ignoring her tone, remaining polite with his own.

“Your agency.” She raised a perfect eyebrow.

“Yes. I have a prospective student here who is in need of a scholarship to attend your academy.”

She remained stone-faced. “I was notified of an application submitted by your office on behalf of a new student yesterday. It indicated they would be able to afford the fees due to an inheritance. We were going to approve the application - has the situation changed?”

“For Danielle Thorne, no. She is not the student in question.”

“Then who is, Elliot?”

I took a step forward. “I am, ma’am.”

Even through the video conference I could palpably feel her attention shift to me, like a tremor running over my skin. “And you are?”

“Jordan Elin Emrys, ma’am. Or at least, that’s the name I have now.”

“Care to explain?”

I glanced at Goodman, who said quietly under his breath, “If this connection is not secure, then no connections anywhere are.” Okay, got it. Truth then.

“Well, ma’am, less than a week ago my name was Justin Thorne. Danielle is my niece.”

The frost in her eyes lightened ever so slightly. “I see.”

I swallowed, and then proceeded to tell her everything that happened. The Director interjected a few clarifications when I’d glossed over something without intending to.

Her harsh expression had softened by the time I finished my summary of events. “Your niece is inheriting your entire estate, leaving you with a fresh but penniless identity.”

“That’s about the sum of it, ma’am.”

She looked back at the Director. “I presume you were hoping for some kind of work-study scholarship? Where she would report to your local office in Berlin?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m afraid we must decline.”

What? Oh no. Internally I felt my hopes for me and Danielle slipping away. Even Goodman flinched with surprise and said quickly, “Given the situation, I’m sure I can get approval to subsidize a scholarship…”

“Money is not the issue, Elliot. I have to think of the security of my students.” She was studying my reaction rather carefully, and I had a sudden flash of insight. I decided to run with it.

“I understand perfectly, ma’am,” I said, much to Goodman’s surprise. “Their protection is paramount - whether myself or my niece attend. It was partly due to your reported excellent security that we were hoping to attend.”

“Partly?”

I managed a smile to cover my nerves. “Yes. We, both Danielle and I, need training in how to manage these new abilities. Mine especially might be dangerous if left uncontrolled, so I can understand the caution you’d have in bringing me to your school. I wouldn’t want to risk anyone else in doing so.”

“You mentioned you already had a college degree as Justin Thorne. What sort of education were you hoping for beyond training your manifested abilities? Replace your credentials and return to your chosen field?”

I thought about it seriously. “To be honest, ma’am, I don’t know. Too much has changed for me - and if I lock myself down with any preconceptions of regaining my ‘old self’ and career, that might sell myself short. But I do have a major concern about my lack of funds. My niece is covered, thankfully, and I’m not going to let her try to give back any of what she receives from my estate. For one thing, that might blow my new cover. And for another, she needs it to get the best start on her new life as she can - with college covered after high school. I know the amounts available and they wouldn’t be enough for two - not for a good college, anyway. She deserves the best options possible. So I may have to focus on what I know I can do quickly to try and rebuild my finances.”

“And if money was not an issue for you? Would you still want to attend high school all over again if you no longer needed freshly stamped pieces of credentialed paper to make a living?”

“A normal high school?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hell no. But one where I could try to make sense of the crazy things I’m doing or causing accidentally with these powers? How could I be responsible or even sane and not want that?”

To Goodman’s surprise her frost melted away and she smiled warmly. “Well, Elliot. I believe I can tell you why I should have expected your call.” Aha!

He tilted his head. “I’m all ears.”

“This morning the Academy received a rather substantial financial gift from overseas - one that would immediately alleviate the outrageous costs required to maintain our substantial and ever-increasing physical and magical security for many years to come. It was, however, predicate on one condition - a condition that gave me great pause considering how blatant a bribe it represented. You know how hidden strings or threats may attach to such offers that seem too good to be true especially when they arrive out of the blue.”

“What was the condition?”

“It was simple: that we accept one student on a new anonymous scholarship. Included with that scholarship was a fund to mature and be distributed to the said student upon graduation, with one percent of that ultimate distribution to be given yearly to the student as a ‘living stipend’.”

“Did the offer specify the student?” Goodman asked suspiciously.

“In a manner of speaking. It requires the student to be selected by, and I quote, ‘The current West Coast Director of the Department of Paranormal Affairs.’ Congratulations on your recent promotion to running the entire West Coast operations, by the way.”

My mind raced. “Soren. Dammit, Soren must be behind that offer.” I looked at Mrs. Carson with a sinking feeling flooding my stomach. “We can’t take it. He could be setting us up again.”

Mrs. Carson looked at me, her eyes twinkling. I realized from that look she was much older than she seemed and probably had me beat by decades. “Think. As your own story shows, he wishes you to live. Not only that, he wishes you formidably defended. The size of the donation will ensure this, better than anything the government would be able to manage short of hiding you in a bunker deep in the mountains of Colorado. Which I do not recommend, by the way. The food is horrid.”

The Director asked, “Elizabeth, how large is this donation?”

Waving a finger at the camera she said, “No, Elliot. You do not need to be privy to the amount. That’s between the Academy and the IRS. I’ll just say that it greatly exceeds the distribution to be paid out to the successful student of your choice.”

“How…how much would that be?” I asked.

“Each year would provide a stipend of two-hundred thousand dollars to the student.”

Two-hundred thousand? That’s one percent of…“Twenty million?! That’s nuts!”

She laughed. “The bank through which this offer was extended is quite serious, the funds are indeed genuine. Elliot, I take it you would select Ms. Jordan Emrys as this scholarship’s recipient?”

He reached out to put a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t shake him off as my head was still filled with spinning green dollar signs. “I would be quite glad to select Ms. Emrys. We will send her official transcripts and information this afternoon.”

“Excellent. Then if there’s no other business, I have a well-earned vacation to return to. You really should call more often, Elliot.”

He sighed. “They keep me too busy; they have for years.”

Her expression saddened. “That was your excuse fifteen years ago. I see it hasn’t changed.”

“I am sorry, Elizabeth. You know that.” Wait, had these two dated?

“Yes,” she said. “Yes I do. Take care, Elliot. And Ms. Emrys?”

“Yes, ma’am?” I replied.

“Elliot should be able to arrange your transfer to our campus immediately. You can summer there and get a head start on learning some control over your abilities.”

“That sounds good. Thank you.” I meant it too. Then something important leapt through my brain. “Wait! One question.”

“Yes?”

“About my cat-”

“Pets are not permitted at Whateley Academy,” she said firmly. Uh oh.

Goodman cleared his throat. “There is, however, a policy regarding magical familiars, is there not?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. “Has she soul-bonded with this feline?”

Without missing a beat the Director answered. “According to our team, it is possible that such a bond is in the process of formation. We have video evidence that the presence of her animal prevented her from accidental dimensional slippage this past night. To parts still unknown.”

“We would need to review.”

“I have the file available here, sending it now.” He accessed the computer and uploaded. While his back was to the camera he motioned me to let him handle it. I obediently kept my mouth shut. I knew what a familiar was according to most fantasy role-playing games, but Khan? Was he mine?

She watched the recording of my room, but didn’t seem impressed. “As extraordinary as this video is, it hardly provides proof of such a claim. Any animal contact - or human touch for that matter - could have re-anchored her somnambulist travels.”

“Perhaps. Yet it was not a solitary event.”

I looked at him in surprise. “What?”

Ignoring me, he continued addressing the headmistress. “The night Jordan was first brought here she was mostly comatose. I elected to sit watch in her room, in case she experienced an onset of burnout or some other difficulty. While it was not as exaggerated an instance as occurred early this morning, I believe I witnessed her presence flicker and fade. Before I could call in a team, her feline companion - whose name is Khan - abandoned his early breakfast to quickly jump upon her chest, placing one paw on her chin momentarily. Her image, to eyes unsure of what they were witnessing, solidified immediately.

“As this seems to be a trend,” he continued, “it is the official recommendation of the DPA that Ms. Emrys not be separated from her cat while she sleeps. We feel there may be real risk of tragedy otherwise.”

I couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or being entirely serious. With how Mrs. Carson was staring at him, I’m not sure she could either.

“If…if that is indeed the official recommendation, then the Academy, of course, must accede on the side of safety and student health. The animal will be permitted for the Fall Semester, with the status as a bona-fide magical familiar to be re-evaluated at the conclusion thereof.” Addressing me she added frostily, “You will be fully responsible for the care and keep of your companion, is that clear Ms. Emrys?”

Goodman interrupted my vigorous nodding of agreement. “For heaven’s sake, Elizabeth - Jordan is not a child hoping her parents will grant her a kitten that she’ll then play with and forget to feed. You especially should understand not judging her by her physical age.”

Mrs. Carson’s eyes flashed. “Is that all then, Elliot?”

Realizing he may have stepped too hard on a nerve, he sighed. “I’ll coordinate with your Dean of Students regarding Ms. Emrys’ itinerary. Enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

“I intend to. And Ms. Emrys…”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Welcome to Whateley. We look forward to your arrival.” She closed the conference before I could thank her again - the screen had gone blank.

Goodman’s shoulders relaxed as he turned to me with a tired smile. “And this is why cat people should never date dog people.”

I blinked as comprehension struck, then grinned widely. “You have a cat?”

“I have two, named ‘Night’ and ‘Day’. They’re terribly cute. Here, I’ll show you.” He pulled out his phone and started to scroll through his picture gallery.

He was right, they were absolutely adorable.

 

Chapter Eleven - Hunter

 

Somewhere in the Jabal Abu Rujmayn Mountain Range, Syria.

 

Tsáyid swooped lower as he scanned the mountains until spotting the entrance to a cave. Landing before the opening on all four paws, he shook his feathered head in annoyance. The entrance was barely large enough for a man, let alone a gryphon of his stature.

Reluctantly he shifted down into a lesser form - a shorter dark-eyed young man dressed in khaki shorts and a red flannel shirt. He still had to duck to go inside.

He made his way through the tight cave passage needing no light to see his way, his other senses provided all that he could require. He could feel his Master’s energy calling to him.

After many twists and branches he reached a small inner chamber within the depths of the mountain. Even without light his eyes could make out the energy trails of the Host’s script covering the walls of the chamber - indeed the writing flowed inside the rocks surrounding the mountain’s heart, wrapping around and binding firm to those stones the black boil of rage that was the one he called Master.

“You have called. I am here.” Tsáyid dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Human language was easier to use when he was in the shape of man, but he despised being so. He felt weak in this form.

The Master spoke directly into his mind, the words burning like lava through the temple of his inner thoughts.

You have failed. The Light still shines.

Tsáyid tensed, his fear of the consequences clashing with a deeper relief he could not dare let his Master sense in any way. “Her throat was slit, her powers dim and unable to compensate. She should have perished.”

You did not stay to guarantee victory.

“Doing so would have risked you, Master. Her crossing would have summoned the one whose Domain is Death. He would have sensed it. I cannot hide our connection from the gaze of one such as him.” Tsáyid dared not say the Angel of Death’s name aloud, lest he hear and take notice.

This is true.

Tsáyid exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding.

This Light grows even now; it can be felt even here within this prison. It must be squelched or it may seek to interfere. Have you acquired the formula used by our enemy to awaken it? This could provide us the key to awaken our brother Shem’Hazai. With our brother restored, our restraints shall shatter like glass before his might.

“We have fragments, Master. Our operatives within their agencies shall ferret out the rest. It will take time, however, to adapt its use to your brother. Do we know his location?”

Finding him will be no issue. We will call, and he will come.

“What orders then, Master?”

The Light must fall. To defeat Light first destroy that for which it shines. Go forth, Hunter. Seek out the other child, destroy this Light’s beloved before its eyes. Weaken it with despair, and once weak - lead it to us. We will reveal the fallacy of the Light’s worthless promises and it shall fall as did the star of its predecessor.

Tsáyid bowed his head deeper. He felt the command’s dark energy bind itself upon his pattern, sealing him with its geas.

“I hear and obey, Lord Azazel.”

 

 

Into The Light (Part 3 of 6)

by Erisian

 

 

Chapter Twelve - Transit

 

I was in the back seat of yet another SUV. This time it was a green one being driven by Colin Forsyth, the Lieutenant from the phone conference between Director Goodman and Mrs. Carson. Mrs. Shugendo, a tall Asian woman, sat up front. Poor Khan was stuck once more in his travel cage and I had to admit I did feel grateful to Soren for the scope of the scholarship I was sure he had arranged for me. It had included paying for all sorts of details, as one would expect from a scholarship: books, school supplies, tuition (including room and board), and uniforms. To my (and the Director’s) surprise it also covered all related expenses for bi-annual transport to and from the school via chartered plane out of the closest airport to the school.

Don’t get me wrong, though - Soren still deserved a boot to the head for what he’d done. I’d thank him for the money after.

A DPA agent I had never met before had been assigned to take me to the airport in Van Nuys. We didn’t say much during the drive, especially as I was in disguise and busy trying to make sure Khan would be okay with the car ride and the following much longer flight.

My buddy was a trooper and had no problems sleeping in proper lounge style upon the luxury seats in the chartered plane. He also insisted on sharing my in-flight gourmet turkey sandwich.

The disguise had been provided by Gregory - a purple hair-band which shifted my hair to a dark chestnut color and a pair of auto-tinting glasses that turned my eyes a rather striking blue. Combining these two devises, makeup applied by Natalie, a creme-colored business blouse tucked into a long dark grey skirt, nylons, and black pumps underneath made me look not just strikingly different but much older.

The nylons felt weird, but I’d probably need to get used to them. Whateley uniforms for girls required skirts unless the weather was too cold. Although taller socks might also be acceptable, I’d have to check to be sure. Wearing makeup was also an experience: Natalie had done it quickly and professionally aiming for an understated look to it all. It was quite effective.

The previous couple of days were spent hidden in my room at the DPA facility because the Director had decided I shouldn’t be seen by all the field agents he’d recalled to that location. Mrs. Carson had requested at least two days to ‘properly prepare quarters’ for me, and Goodman had agreed. Danielle was picked up by my friend Isaiah, with the plan for her to stay with him until Mark got out of the hospital. I argued to let Isaiah in on the fact I was still alive (I really wanted to say goodbye to my friend), but that idea was shot down. As the attorney handling the estate, he could possibly violate his oath to the bar by managing issues pertaining to my death while knowing I was still alive.

The Director won the argument by also pointing out that it could jeopardize my work-provided life insurance policy’s payout to Danielle if there were any irregularities perceived by the insurance investigators. The policy wasn’t for a huge amount, but it was still significant. I did feel bad about defrauding the insurance company, but Danielle tried to make me feel better by quoting Obi-Wan Kenobi at me - that the death of Justin Thorne was true ‘from a certain point of view’. I was starting an entirely new life. My old one was indeed dead and needed to be buried.

Not that I’d get a burial. They’d told Isaiah I’d been cremated when he’d demanded to see a body as proof of my demise.

Saying goodbye to Danielle had been hard, even if we knew it was only to be for a few weeks before she could travel to the school for the fall term. I sensed her deep-seated unease at me going so far away with her not being allowed to contact me, but there was nothing we could do about it. As much as she tried to put on a brave face she ended up crying a few tears anyway. I held back mine until she had gone.

Departing the plane in Berlin, New Hampshire - the closest town to campus with an airport - Lt. Forsyth and Mrs. Shugendo were standing there waiting on the tarmac by the plane with their Ford Expedition. I had trundled down the stairs carrying my meager baggage: one guitar in its case, one cat in his case, and an under-filled DPA backpack slung over a shoulder containing only the clothes the DPA had provided over the past week. I was wearing the jeans, shirt, and under items Danielle had bought for me.

Mrs. Shugendo had asked if I had any luggage in the cargo hold. I laughed and told her all my worldly possessions were already in my hands and proceeded to put the guitar and backpack into the back of their SUV. She signed some paperwork for the patient crew-member of the charter service, then we were on our way. Neither of them had said much as we got moving, I was behind them and had been busily distracting Khan by sticking a finger through the cage’s metal door so he could sniff it and know I was still there with him.

“How far is Berlin from the campus?” I asked Colin after we were clear of the airport and out on open road. Both his arms had scars - something with claws had left some nasty grooves on his skin. Thinking back to Tsáyid’s claws I shuddered and decided I didn’t want to ask how he had gotten them.

“About fifteen to twenty minutes drive. But I think we have other stops first before we get there.”

“Other stops? I hate to cause any issues, but I’d like to get Khan here somewhere I can set up a litter-box for him. You know, before he makes a mess in his carrier?”

Mrs. Shugendo looked back at me and frowned. “We have an appointment in Dunwich for your uniform attire, and from the looks of it you are completely without any other clothing or accessories. This should also be remedied.”

“Uh, I agree I probably need a lot of things…but…” My little guy was a trooper, however holding things in for that long? Erk.

Colin came to Khan’s rescue. “There’s a large box store down in Gorham. Ms. Emrys’ flight arrived early and we budgeted extra time for brunch, so we have plenty of time before the Dunwich appointment. I could drop you both off at the store, get her cat to her room at Whateley, and then back to pick you both up. I presume there are supplies for your cat waiting or do you need to buy those too?”

I shook my head. “There should be everything needed already there, delivered from Amazon yesterday. You sure you don’t mind setting it up though? And skipping brunch?”

He smiled. “Nah, don’t mind at all.” He raised an eyebrow to Mrs. Shugendo.

“Very well. It would be impolite to be late to the appointment, but don’t risk yet another speeding ticket Lieutenant.”

Colin flushed. “Yes, ma’am.”

I lifted my finger to gently boop Khan’s nose. “Hey little guy,” I said to him, “You’re going to go with the nice guy there and I’ll join up with you later, okay?” He meeped at me, not entirely happy with the whole trip (let alone being away from his old home for so long) but he curled up into a ball of silver and black fluff - the white of his belly hidden from sight.

It took us about thirty minutes to get from the airport to the box store - you know, one of those that every part of the country has, which sells everything - and I do mean everything. Colin dropped us off before heading back up route sixteen.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” I said gratefully to Mrs. Shugendo as we walked towards the store. “I’m sure not every student gets picked up like this.”

“You are quite welcome. It was decided this would be a safer way to, how did the Director put it? ‘Smuggle Ms. Emrys onto campus.’ How long will those devises that are maintaining your disguise last?”

“Oh, uh…a few days according to Gregor.”

“Good. Your official story has you arriving at Whateley two weeks ago, so keep them on until we get to the academy.”

I echoed Colin’s earlier statement. “Yes, ma’am.”

She laughed. “Relax, when we’re off campus and I’m not officially on duty, call me Michi. While the Lieutenant has not been read into your true circumstances, as Dean of Students I have been. I’m well aware you aren’t as young as even your disguised appearance shows. It’s also just as well it’s only the two of us for your first post-change shopping trip. You may have certain questions.” She smiled gently.

“Yeah, I guess I might,” I sighed.

“You do your own makeup this morning?”

“No. And considering how early the flight was, I absolutely was not awake to pay proper attention to how she did it.”

“Hmm. It would be a useful skill for you to acquire, especially if you want to pass as older. Ah, that reminds me, I have this for you.” She handed me a manila envelope.

Contained within was a New Hampshire vertical ‘Youth Operator’s License’ with my real hair-color and fake age of sixteen. Hot damn, I could drive! Along with an official U.S. Passport, a Whateley Student ID, and my new MID, it also contained two credit cards - one black, one blue, both in the name of Jordan Emrys.

Michi commented, “There are restrictions on licenses here for those under the age of eighteen. You are not allowed to drive between one and four a.m. Also for the next six months you cannot drive with more than one passenger who is less than twenty-five years old unless accompanied by a licensed adult who is over twenty-five.”

“Good to know. Although I doubt I’ll do much driving - I don’t exactly have a car at the moment.” I grinned ruefully.

“Parking is greatly restricted at Whateley in any case, and there is an additional required driving course before being allowed to drive onto campus. Now, those two credit cards you are holding, the black one is for school expenses: your uniform, books, and other scholastic sundries. I have been informed that it has already been used to order you a school laptop provisioned with increased security software. You may purchase a smart-phone and pay for the plan with that card as well. The blue card draws on your yearly stipend, which is what shall be used for your personal clothing, makeup, and hygiene products.”

“That answers the question of how to pay for this outing. Thanks! Can I at least buy you brunch if we have time?”

Her smile grew warmer. “That would be lovely, thank you. But first - let’s get you outfitted.”

“You know, I could just order more things from Amazon come to think of it. I’ve been told my sizes.”

“Goodness, no.” She shook her head. “One thing you will need to learn about being a woman is that clothing manufacturers do not agree on what sizes mean. Until you get a feel for that manufacturer, trying on clothes first is the best option if you want things to fit properly. Especially bras - and you’re going to need more than the one you currently have on. This store wouldn’t be my first choice for acquiring such things, but unless you are willing to spend quite a bit more today, it may have to do.”

“What do you mean about willing to spend more? How much more?”

“Our appointment is with a specialty tailor in Dunwich, a Miss Cecilia Rogers. She is one of the best seamstresses in the world, if not the very best. Your scholarship included a clause that she was to provide your school uniforms - which is a very good thing, as she offers free repairs to her products. And given that Whateley at times can be a bit, shall we say, rough…it’s a useful warranty to have.”

My eyes narrowed. “A bit rough? That sounds ominous.”

She nodded. “Whateley Academy provides an excellent education for its students. The world for those with mutations and abilities is a dangerous place, and Whateley is designed with that first and foremost in mind. Our job as staff is not to coddle our charges - we do our best to protect them, but their first line of defense is always their own skill and ability. Training can require, at times, a hands-off approach that leaves them to fend for themselves against other powered children.”

“Why does this suddenly sound straight out of the book Ender’s Game?” Second and third thoughts about sending Danielle to anywhere ‘rough’ like this were flooding through my mind ringing all sorts of alarm bells. What had I gotten us into?

“A rather apt analogy - and I can see it disturbs you.”

“You’re damn right. Only a few days ago I agreed to send my niece here - but she has had enough bullying for being a mutant already. Now you’re saying that could continue but instead of being tormented by regular kids, this time it’ll be by ones with powers?” We had gotten inside the automatic doors and past the store’s greeter, now we were standing in front of the women’s clothing section.

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm. “As you love your niece and wish her to survive the real threats in this world - against those that would use and abuse her for her powers to their own nefarious ends - there is no better place for her to be. She will learn confidence, control, adaptation, and survival tactics that will serve her well in this new life she is embarking upon as one of the powerful. The same goes especially for you, Jordan. Both your lives may someday depend on the quality - and the challenges - of the lessons and environment we provide.”

I shook my head. “Forget Ender’s Game, now you’re talking The Dosadi Experiment.”

She laughed. “That’s a level of harshness beyond even us, thankfully.”

“Good.” I sighed, trying to accept that decisions had already been made and that she was likely correct. It was a new and risky world that Danielle and I had stumbled into - my encounter with Tsáyid had made that perfectly clear. “Alright then, what outfits shall I acquire to supplement my standard-issue Whateley battle fatigues?”

“Let’s go find out, shall we?” With that she led me further into the women’s clothing section.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Let me just say first that women’s clothing makers suck. Seriously. No two brands agreed on sizes, vindicating Michi’s warning about online ordering. Good grief, we were just trying to find enough outfits for me to wear outside of the school uniform for weekends or trips to town and I still ended up having to try on everything individually. Even jeans made by the same company claiming to be the same size failed to match in how they fit once I put them on.

And don’t get me started on the cheaper lingerie that lined the shelves at this place. We wasted an incredible amount of time trying to find bras that would fit properly. Either I’d be drowning within their huge over-the-shoulder boulder-holders, or pinched sideways, or they’d push my boobs up and over the top of the damn things as if I was planning on attending a renaissance faire. Ugh!

Michi caught my eyes glowing with frustration and suggested again that I splurge with my own funds on a few tailor-made items at our next appointment. When I asked what her custom tailor would charge, my heart skipped a beat as I gasped in shock at the numbers she quoted.

It took a few more ill-fitting foreign imports before I threw in the towel and announced I would eat the cost, even if I could buy a serious gaming computer (or two!) for that kind of cash. Michi reassured me that, given time, I’d admit they were worth the money. Time would tell, I suppose, but I had my doubts. No wonder Caroline had bitched endlessly whenever she had to shop for lingerie.

By the time we made it through the checkout line with my new wardrobe all shoved into multiple bags, Colin was waiting outside with the SUV. Before I could say a word he reassured me that yes, Khan was all set up in my room, his supplies put out for him, and that when he had left, the little guy was hungrily tearing into a couple cans worth of his food.

I thanked him, but still was anxious about getting to campus so I could personally check on my kitty. First though we had to grab a quick early lunch, and then off to this mysterious tailor Michi kept hinting was world-class, very special, and how it was a privilege to even have an appointment with her. I bit my tongue instead of commenting that with those kinds of prices either she really was worth it, or had Hollywood connections doing her promoting.

Lunch was from a local fast-food place along the way into Dunwich, the small town that was the closest to campus and where ‘Rogers’ Fabric Boutique’ was located. The less said about the burgers we ate the better. I did insist on buying, though after we finished I mentioned that perhaps I should apologize instead. It had been fast as advertised, but we all agreed that ‘food’ was a bit of a misnomer. Ah well.

Thus it was that we arrived on time to an unassuming storefront sitting along the main shop street that the town offered. A tourist would probably walk right past it to get to the t-shirt shop a couple doors down, but we went on in. Michi had instructed Colin to wait with the car; he didn’t seem to mind. Wondering if I was about to be poked and prodded for measurements in excruciating detail, I was jealous he got to just chill with the satellite radio.

The inside of the shop looked about what one would expect: flowing dresses, elegant suits, and other high-end items were on display over remarkably life-like mannequins of men and women in a variety of nationalities. They looked real - which caused me to do a double-take because one actually slowly began to move into a new pose as I went past, causing me to jump backwards. If I emitted a girlish shriek in surprise, no one commented and thus it didn’t happen. I admit nothing.

“Welcome!” A woman’s voice echoed from the back of the shop. “Michi, is that you?”

Mrs. Shugendo called back, “Yes, Cecilia. I have Miss Emrys here for her appointment.”

“Wonderful! I’m a bit pressed for time today, so we’ll have to do this quickly. Bring her on back!”

I followed Michi as we crossed to the back of the store. The mannequins all subtly adjusted themselves to remain in full view of us as we passed. It was impressively done, if not kinda creepy.

“Hmm,” Michi pondered as we walked. “Remove your headband and drop that disguise. Cecilia will need to see your natural colors.”

“Okay.” I pulled off the headband and felt a small electric charge spill outward and through my hair. Turning my head I caught sight of the darker color shimmering back into crimson and gold. Tugging off the glasses, I held them and the band awkwardly as I had nowhere to put them. My new leather purse (Michi insisted I needed one, hush) was still in a package in the car.

“Oh, you can put your things over here.” A young looking brunette emerged from behind a counter wearing a dark green shop coat over a simple beige blouse and slacks. She gestured to a spot on the counter, and I dutifully set down the ‘keys’ to my disguise. She grinned. “I recognize those! How is Gregory these days?”

“Uh, he seems to be doing fine. You know Professor Kirov?”

She laughed. “I know a couple of them, but yes I know Gregory in particular. We collaborated a few years ago when he needed to disguise someone to get into the…” She caught herself. “Into the place that I can’t tell you about. Sorry!”

I grinned. “No worries. Even if it sounds like an interesting story. I’m Jordan.” I offered her a hand to shake in greeting, which she took lightly with a sly smile.

“I’m Cecilia, if you haven’t guessed already. Come around here and into the scanner, okay? Like I said, I’m tighter on time than I’d like.”

Mrs. Shugendo’s phone rang, her ringtone sounding suspiciously like part of the musical score to the original Ghost in the Shell animated movie. “It’s the academy, I need to take this.” She walked back towards the front as she answered the call.

Cecilia ushered me into a small booth that looked much like the changing rooms back at the box store, except these walls were a smooth metallic silver. “I’m testing out a new system today, one that doesn’t require the client to disrobe or even move. Let’s see how it does with you!”

Thinking back to Big Betty’s scanning devise, I wondered how much information Cecilia would actually pick up with hers. Call me paranoid but…on second thought, just call me paranoid.

I heard a number of fans spin up nearby, and the floor vibrated with a low level hum. Then just as quickly as the sound had started, it quieted again.

“That’s it, come on out. Fantastic, that did better than I expected!”

“It did?” I asked, stepping out of the small room. A genderless and unclothed mannequin near Cecilia began to, well, morph. Into a perfect copy of me. Correction: into a perfectly naked copy of me. Skin color, hair color, even the eyes matched.

I was suddenly massively grateful that Michi had told Colin to wait in the car.

“Exemplar, I take it?” I jumped again; Cecilia had moved up behind me and I hadn’t noticed.

“Uh, yes. Level three.”

“So you’ll need more reinforcement to your items, plus stretchability. I have the list as provided by the school for your uniform selections: skirts, slips, socks, blouses, blazer, winter jacket, stockings, and sweater. I outsource shoes to a hob-channeling friend of mine when I’m this busy, hope you don’t mind.”

I blinked. “No, not at all. But what about pants? I read the school handbook, and aren’t girls allowed pants for colder weather?”

She looked at me in contemplation. “Cold weather won’t affect you much with you being an Exemplar. The jacket and other warmer items are more for show when visitors are at campus and it’s a red flag day. Having a young girl cross through snow wearing nothing but a short skirt and a blouse would raise eyebrows, so you’ll need to keep that in mind come winter.”

I nodded. The campus had a colored flag system for how little or how much powers needed to be hidden from view. Red indicated no powers were to be used, period.

“I can understand that, so why no pants?”

She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Hon, you’ll need the longer skirts instead for such days. Or risk being clocked too easily.”

“Clocked?” I frowned.

Giving the shoulder a squeeze, she let it go with a smile. “How long has it been since your manifestation and you joined the, shall we say, softer half of the human race?”

I blushed, as I suddenly understood what she meant. “About a week.” Damn.

“Stick to skirts for at least a year, okay?”

“What gave it away?” I asked resignedly.

She leaned back against the counter and considered. “A number of things, but I know what to look for. Offering me a hand to shake was one, especially the way you held it. Also how you move - when you aren’t thinking about it your body’s natural grace shines, but I think you’re catching yourself occasionally and second guessing things, and it stands out. I can help with that, actually.”

“How so? This is all still extremely new and yeah, awkward.”

“I teach a class at Whateley; you should take it - or something similar - to help learn how to flow smoothly with your new form.”

“Oh? What class?” I was curious - and dreading the thought of having to deal with teenagers realizing I had swapped gender teams. With everything Mrs. Shugendo had warned me about the school, being ‘clocked’ as Cecilia termed it would paint an even larger target on my back.

“Ballroom dancing.” She grinned, anticipating my reaction.

“Uh…huh.”

She laughed lightly. “It’s actually a lot of fun, most students who take it end up enjoying it a lot more than they expect. And as the school has a number of required formal events throughout the year, given your circumstance you might consider it a natural requirement to add to your curriculum.”

“I’ll think about it.” I had no idea what classes I’d be taking, and after one misguided quarter in college when I’d ended up with a ridiculous number of units and barely made it out of finals week alive, I was naturally cautious about overloading my schedule.

She looked sad, as if I was brushing her off so I quickly followed up with, “I really will think about it. This week has just been overwhelming, and I don’t want to falsely commit to anything without having time to reflect and plan. Tomorrow I’m supposed to meet with my student adviser and start trying to figure out a fall schedule. I’ll mention your class, okay? Learning how to be a…uhm…learning such things is part of why I’m here.” Could I feel any more awkward? Don’t answer that, my own imagination is bad enough.

Her expression brightened. “Good! Now, Michi mentioned you might want some items which would not be covered as ‘school related’?”

“Actually, about that…wouldn’t appropriately colored sets of bra and underwear be considered mandatory as part of meeting the school’s uniform policy?”

Her eyes narrowed mischievously and she grinned again. “As a professional seamstress, I would have to render an official opinion that without the right undergarments an entire outfit would be undone and unacceptable to the school’s standards.”

I smiled back. “Then I think I need to add a few pairs of such to my scholastic wardrobe. But also,” I said more seriously, “I’m going to need a couple for weekends and non-uniform use. The selection at the store today was, as they say, a total bust.”

She laughed at my pun, earning her points towards my attending her class. “Well then, I think we should get abreast of things and remedy your situation! We wouldn’t want your mood to sag, after all.”

“Nope! Keep it perky is my motto!”

Mrs. Shugendo had come back in while the two of us were laughing like loons, and raised an eyebrow. “I miss something?”

“Not at all,” Cecilia said, “We’re just having a moment of…sheer…exuberance!”

I groaned exaggeratedly. “I should have guessed. As a seamstress you must have puns just corset-ing through your brain.”

We both giggled again while Mrs. Shugendo rolled her eyes and said, “I thought you were on a tight schedule today, Cecilia?”

“Oh! Yes, I am. To work!” Cecilia shook her head free of our silliness, and I saw her mind come alive with a deep focus while she stared at the naked replica still standing before us. “Your uniform items I will do later and have delivered. But for your custom personal ones…let’s start with purple to go with your shirt!”

She gestured and spiraling through the air behind her came purple toned fabric along with underwires, thread, and lace. I was astounded as the material simply flowed like water over my doppleganger’s curves and assembled itself into a matching bra and panty set, hugging the skin of my mannequin while moving in tune with the orchestra of material to stretch and pull just as Cecilia needed to get what I had to imagine would be the most perfect and intimate fit.

Into my ear Michi whispered quietly, “And this is why her products are worth every dollar spent.”

Witnessing a spectacle worthy of a Disney animation, I could only nod in agreement.

“I think I believe you.”

 

Chapter Thirteen - Arrival

 

It was middle of the afternoon by the time we reached campus. I must have looked like a silly tourist with her nose stuck to the window on the drive in because everything was just so green. We drove alongside a forest and up this dirt road, and even the grasses in the fields were verdantly lush. That and here we were in the middle of summer and there were glorious thunderclouds in the sky threatening to dump upon us as we arrived.

You have to understand that in Southern California the hills turn green for one month at best at the end of winter, and are drab brown the rest of the year. Well, except for when they catch fire. And rain? In summer? Unthinkable!

The New England humidity in the seasonal heat reminding me of the last time I was in a sauna pretty well sucked though. My old body would have needed a shower by now, if not two. Without humidity there’d be no green, I know, but…bleh.

Approaching the campus there was a ripple in the air which at first I mistook for rain, but then realized that wasn’t it at all. It was like there was a mostly translucent curtain hanging across the road and leading off in a circle around the entire area. As we drove through it goosebumps crawled across my skin while I tasted a hint of electricity. It felt odd.

Mrs. Shugendo’s phone rang and she answered. “Dean of Students speaking.” She paused, listening to the other party, then replied, “Yes, we just crossed onto campus. I see. Interesting. Yes, we will take her to Schuster Hall first, then to her cottage.” Hanging up, she turned to look back at me. “Did you feel anything just now?”

I blinked. “Uh, yes I did. Felt electrical. What was it?”

“The campus’ mystical wards. I was just informed that your presence was detected as the barriers, and I quote, ‘just surged and rippled as if momentarily amplified’. Did you do anything?” Her expression was intensely serious as her eyes tried to bore into mine.

Shaking my head I said, “No. I just saw a shimmering in the air. When we drove through I felt this buzzing. That’s all. When I try anything I usually light up like neon.”

She grunted. “Interference with the wards and security of the school is an expulsion triggering offense. Leave them alone.”

I hadn’t done anything and had no intentions to, but decided to just acknowledge her. “Yes ma’am.”

Seeming satisfied, she faced forward again. “Lieutenant, if you would be so kind please drop us off at Schuster Hall and then deliver Miss Emrys’ packages to her room.”

Echoing me this time, he nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

We pulled up to a large red-brick building - something else you don’t see in California: brick structures. Earthquakes have a bad tendency to knock them right over. Behind the building rose an elaborate glass or maybe crystal dome which was quite large - a greenhouse perhaps? From what I could see over the rooftop, it was quite pretty.

Getting out of the vehicle, Colin lowered his window with a smile. “Welcome to Whateley, Miss Emrys. Will see you around!” I thanked him for his help today, and he drove off towards what I presumed was a staff parking lot.

Mrs. Shugendo was waiting when I turned around. I could see that here on campus her demeanor had shifted - she was now Dean Of Students, and in charge. Oh, right, and I was now one of the young students in her care.

She spoke. “We have a couple of stops to make before we get you to your dormitory, young lady. You were originally assigned to Poe Cottage, but its rooms are not large enough to contain the designs submitted by the Mystic Arts Department. Instead, a heavily-warded space has been prepared for you at the Hawthorne Cottage.”

Huh. I wondered what these ‘heavy wards’ did exactly - I assumed they’d at least contain any excess energy I might generate while sleeping - but before I could ask she marched up the steps into the building. Looking around I saw a few kids walking by, so I decided not to press the question and risk accidentally revealing anything even at range. Who knows which student might have super-hearing or eavesdropping devises - I didn’t want to chance it as I noted that the flag fluttering under the stars-and-stripes was a solid green, indicating that powers use was currently allowed.

The next hour went by quickly as Mrs. Shugendo (I didn’t dare call her Michi) gave me a tour, starting with an ostentatious oil portrait of some guy named ‘Lord Paramount’, followed by having to acknowledge a large pile of gold being held nearby. I thought the whole thing odd, but will note that the number of cameras and other odd ceiling formations that may have contained traps to rain down on foolish thieves was intimidating.

As she led me through the halls, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my own high school back in the day. I’d attended what at the time had been an all-male college preparatory school. Excellent education, but I’m still not sure how my mom managed to afford to send me there. I’d checked the current tuition after Danielle moved in with me as they now included girls and I was shocked to see that the yearly cost had grown to rival even Ivy League universities.

This place felt even more expensive somehow, which had me pondering just how large the grant Soren had arranged must have been to get me admitted - and also to get the reaction it did from Headmistress Carson. Maybe I really was better off not knowing.

Mrs. Shugendo proceeded to take me around the campus, pointing out which buildings were which. The greenhouse crystal dome building was the Crystal Hall - the main campus cafeteria. I would never have guessed that. The Doyle Medical Complex looked really impressive, and had me pondering her statements about how rough the academy could be. Looks like they were well prepared for anything medical.

A large and beautiful red-tailed hawk landed upon a nearby tree as we were walking past. It seemed to be staring at me, so on a whim I smiled and waved at it when Mrs. Shugendo wasn’t looking. To my puzzlement, it nodded back at me, but before I could point it out to my guide, the bird took off into the air again. Gorgeously colored plumage, the reds in its feathers were a lot sharper and more brilliant than the hawks I’d gotten used to seeing back home. I wondered idly if it was a male or female, but didn’t know enough about birds or the species to tell the difference. Either way, it was strikingly pretty and I felt the usual envy that it could fly so easily, while I was stuck here on the ground. Ah well.

Finally we arrived at what was to be my new home, Hawthorne Cottage. It looked to have just a few stories to it, but from what I had already read about the campus I knew there were several levels underground.

Leading me inside she turned me over to a Mrs. Cantrel, the housemother for the cottage. She was a friendly African-American lady who sadly was confined to a wheelchair - even if said wheelchair didn’t actually have wheels, but instead floated about on its own power. It looked seriously high-tech.

I politely thanked Mrs. Shugendo for the tour and for taking me shopping, telling her that I owed her a proper meal in thanks at some point. I could see her professional demeanor as Dean slip slightly as she smiled and admitted that would be nice - should our schedules permit.

Then it was just me and Mrs. Cantrel - plus some students sitting on couches in a small lounge inside the entrance. They were busy watching something on the widescreen television, so didn’t pay us any mind.

“Come now, dear,” Mrs. Cantrel was saying. “Let’s get you up to your room so you can settle in. Your packages and your cat are waiting.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I said as she hovered towards a wider-than-usual elevator. It looked industrial, and I commented as such.

“We get all sorts of students staying with us here in Hawthorne - some have rather severe cases of GSD and need the extra room. Our cottage is designed to help students who have special needs.”

GSD - Gross Structural Dystrophy - the label applied to mutants with physical changes which at the extreme end can be horrifying as well as life-threatening.

“Speaking of extra room, yours is fairly unique. The Mystical Arts faculty have been busy for the past few days preparing it for you.”

“Uh, how so?”

“They’ve set it up with what they termed ‘Dimensional Barriers’. I’m told your adviser will give you the details tomorrow, though of course you’ll see what they’ve done when we get up there. Their plan required additional space - more than our usual rooms could accommodate - and after much discussion, it was decided to place your room outside the cottage’s own wards so as to not interfere with them.”

The elevator doors opened, and I let her float on in first so she could turn around easier before stepping in myself. She waved an ID card at the elevator’s control panel, and pushed the top button marked ‘A’.

“Outside the wards? Aren’t those usually bound to the building they protect?” I knew that much - I’d worked at places that had anti-magic wards to protect their servers from interferences.

“They’ve lowered the wards to exclude the attic and the rooftop - which is where your room is. It’s a bit unusual, but they declared it satisfactory.” She said cheerily.

We accelerated upwards at high speed, yet smoothly came to a perfect stop and the doors opened to reveal an expansive attic space maybe sixty by a hundred feet in size with high vaulted dark wooden beams covering the ceiling. The roof of the building on either side of the room sloped down to form a triangle, so along those sides the head clearance was greatly diminished where the slopes led into the walls, but the sheer size the space encompassed gave it an immense amount of area for a single loft. The matching stained wooded floor looked freshly mopped, and what really caught my attention was what had been done to it.

In the center of the whole loft-attic sat a king-size four poster bed with folded blankets and sheets sitting there waiting to put on the mattress. Worked into the floor around it were three layers of circumscribing mystical circles stretching outward a good twenty feet in radius from the center of the bed. Each of the three layers was distinct in style and content. The outer circle was etched with what appeared to be words in the Greek alphabet mixing with other sigils that I semi-recognized as planetary or astrological. The middle circle lay just inside that outer circle and was comprised of three lines twirling tightly around each other in a beautiful and elegant Celtic knot-work pattern, along with writings in Norse runes running along its edges. This middle circle also enclosed a five-pointed pentacle - the center of which held the third and inner circle.

That’s what truly caught my breath - the interior circle contained a Star of David, the six pointed star formed of two equilateral triangles, and it had Hebrew words inscribed along the lines and circle. I instantly felt I should know their meanings and weirder still they seemed to be both absolutely correct and yet also somehow missing critical parts.

I took a step closer in absolute fascination, but Mrs. Cantrel caught my arm with her hand. “Hang on, child. Power down until we get you settled.” Looking down at her hand, I saw I had flared up again, my skin casting light across the room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” Refocusing away from that inner circle, my light faded away. Hearing a familiar meep from the rafters I looked up and saw a cat peering down at me from a lower beam. “Khan! How’d you get up there, buddy?”

Mrs. Cantrel chuckled as we watched Khan take off at a quick pace to navigate the overhead maze, him first jumping down on top of one of the many empty bookshelves that lined a wall, then cross over the shelves until hopping down onto a rather elaborate and fancy antique vanity complete with its own wide mirror resting over flat surface with drawers below.

From that perch he jumped down the rest of the way to hit the ground running full speed before leaping into my welcoming arms. We bonked foreheads, me grinning and him purring loudly.

Mrs. Cantrel gestured to the spacious loft. “This was once used by a faculty member who wished a larger space for her magical practices, and yet also wanted to be close-by for those students living here who greatly needed her assistance. There’s a small bathroom through that one door over yonder, but the shower is non-functional. You will need to shower with the juniors on their floor below. Your student ID, just like our faculty IDs, will trigger the elevator to allow access.”

She floated through the room, reaching a set of double doors inset with many glass panels framed by similarly paneled windows on each side. “There is a small balcony on the rooftop through these doors, with their own access panel. Again, use your ID to open it. Students normally are banned from being on the roof, or even being on this floor - but you can escort other students up to your room as you wish. However, the administration has decided that only you are allowed to use the balcony. This is a safety measure - other students could be injured if they were to fall off the roof, but given your Exemplary status and Regeneration abilities they deemed it allowable for you to go out there. I lobbied for this, as in the winter we’ll need you to shovel the snow off the balcony area - as I didn’t think you’d want maintenance outside your windows peering in if they had to do it. Think you can manage that?”

“Sure, no problem.” Yep, I definitely didn’t want any peeping workers lurking through those windows. Through the glass had a great view towards the forest beyond the campus, and I’d hate to have to install curtains and cover the vista. Though given the southerly direction, I might want blinds for the morning sun if I intended to sleep in. Hmm.

I spun around slowly to take it all in, holding my happy kitty over one shoulder. Aside from the antique vanity, numerous and barren bookshelves, and the massive bed in the center of the room, there was a large stately oak desk sitting off on its own with a plush leather chair lurking behind it. There was also a seven foot high and similarly wide wardrobe that had both drawers and swinging door panels covering a space tall enough to hang things in. No closet, but the size of the wardrobe more than made up for that. I was seriously surprised by it all.

“This seems incredible for just one student,” I commented.

Mrs. Cantrel nodded. “This is not our standard accommodations. But Circe insisted that she did not want, as she put it, your ‘energies manipulating the ley lines of the area and causing mischief with our security - or worse’. And we also decided that mixing you with the resonances within our cottage’s basement could be, shall we say, problematic. This seemed the safest compromise.”

“Circe? Codename for one of the faculty, I take it?”

“Codename? Dear me child, no. That’s her name. Has been for a long, long time.”

I grew suspicious. “How long?”

She smiled. “Since before a certain clever and homesick warrior had a much delayed journey back to Ithaca.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all, hon. If you don’t mind a piece of advice, try to be extra polite to her. As I understand it, she opposed your admission at first. We don’t know why, and I usually wouldn’t mention it - but this is Circe we’re talking about. Tread carefully.”

Oh great. If Odysseus had experienced great trouble dealing with her, how was I going to manage? A multi-thousand year old legendary sorceress didn’t want me here - that really didn’t sound good.

“Try not to worry about it too much; the Headmistress’ decision was final and Circe has a strong sense of honor. Now, I’ll leave you to unpack your things. Come on down in an hour or so and I’ll introduce you to some of the other students so they can escort you to dinner. Summer months are usually quiet as most of our students go home, but this cottage, especially, has more who stay here through the season instead.”

“Dinner is a good idea; that’s at Crystal Hall, right?”

“Yes, dear. Oh - I almost forgot! Your feline friend there is being allowed under the rules for mystical familiars. You should read up on those, but in short summary: you’re responsible for him and his actions. He’s allowed to join you for any mystic arts labs, but otherwise should be constrained to your room. I will allow him, for now, to join you in the lounges here in the cottage. He does seem rather friendly, and his presence may bring cheer to some of our residents. But if there are any incidents he will need to be confined.” She floated higher so she could reach over and pet his gray and silver noggin.

Being incorrigible when it came to affection, he tilted his head so she could better reach the white areas under his chin.

“Ooh, you are a little sweetheart, aren’t you?” she cooed.

I agreed wholeheartedly. What can I say? I’m massively biased!

She gave him a final scritch (okay, two) before returning to the elevator. It wasn’t until after the doors were closed and she was gone that I remembered something she had said. What had she meant about it being problematic to mix my ‘resonances’ with the cottage basement?

What exactly was down there?

 

~o~O~o~

 

As I didn’t exactly have a lot of stuff, putting everything away in the expansive wardrobe did not take long. It also made it clear that I was woefully lacking in clothes hangers as we hadn’t thought to get any at the store earlier. Oops. Hooray for ordering from the Internet, except that the laptop they said I would be provided with had yet to arrive. I also was without a smart-phone as Michi had decided that it would take too long to set up a contract plan while we were at the store. So that was something else I’d need to take care of - though on further reflection I realized I didn’t have anyone I could call or text.

Like that wasn’t depressing or anything.

Fortunately I did have Khan - and he’d discovered the collection of toys I remembered to acquire at the store. So instead of moping on my newly made bed (white sheets with gold trim, purple blankets and matching pillows if you must know, I seemed to be developing a color theme), I freed the fuzzy toy mice from their plastic captivity and tossed one for him to chase and bat about the waxed floor. He slid happily about in pursuit of his fabric-furred prey, and dutifully returned it to my feet for another toss.

Yes, my cat played fetch. I made sure to never let him know that was something dogs did, wouldn’t want to spoil his fun.

There was a professional phone resting on the desk with a small display panel and all the crazy buttons you’d expect on something hooked into an office network. I was glad it displayed the time, seeing as I was also without a watch - who needed watches when phones had clocks these days? Man, I really needed to get a phone soon. Anyway, I kept tabs on the creeping minutes by use of the archaic wired device until finally deciding it was close enough to dinner to go brave meeting some of my fellow students.

If I had known a place to call in and order a pizza, I would have been tempted.

Making sure Khan still had plenty of water and food set out, I grabbed my student ID card, summoned the elevator, and went on down to the first floor lounge where I had seen the kids earlier.

Three of them, two girls and a boy, were still there watching an episode of Daredevil on the giant screen television. Mrs. Cantrel, however, was nowhere to be found. So I leaned against the doorway to the lounge to see if any of the kids would notice and say something.

The boy looked to be about sixteen or maybe even seventeen. It was hard to tell, as while he was only wearing a black swimmer’s thong, he also had wrap-around super dark sunglasses completely covering his eyes and orange industrial-use hearing safety plugs wedged into his ears. Yet his attention was obviously glued to the television while he sat on the very edge of the large brown leather couch. He was tall and lanky but well-muscled, and had a wild crop of dark curly hair nesting on the top of his head.

As for the two girls, one (wearing the standard blouse and skirt uniform) was curled into the opposite corner of the couch from the boy, dusty brown hair spilling down on one side of her face whereas the other side of her head was buzzed extremely short. Her eyes looked up at me for a moment, like she might say something - but then she looked away to pull her knees even tighter to her chest.

The other girl, possibly older than the first though perhaps not by that much, sat cross legged on the plush reddish-orange rug covering the floor before the television. She was wearing green pants, with a lighter green top. Her back was covered mostly by her long hair - hair that was a deeper shade of green than even her pants and was comprised of strands with the thickness of toothpicks. Her skin was a shade of dark mocha that actually went well with her green clothes and hair.

There was another accoutrement that the speedo-wearing boy and greenish girl were wearing - they both had a silver bracelet around their left wrists. At first I thought they might be wearing matching watches, but I didn’t see anything that looked like a display. I wondered if they were dating.

Seeing that a fight scene on the television had just finished, I took the opportunity to butt in. “So uh, excuse me? Anyone seen Mrs. Cantrel?”

Green girl and speedo-boy both finally turned to look at me, the other girl busily studied her shoes.

“She’s busy - if you’re checking out from visiting someone, the log book is by the door.” Speedo-boy gestured vaguely towards the cottage entrance.

“I’m not visiting. She was going to introduce me to other residents who could show me where we get dinner.”

That got the full attention of all three. Green girl, with a voice like a musical wind-chime, asked, “Wait, you new?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Just got settled in upstairs, sort of.”

Speedo-boy and green-girl glanced at each other then back at me. He spoke first. “Dang, what did an obvious Exemplar like you do to get stuck in our freak-house?”

I knew Mrs. Cantrel had mentioned some of the kids in this cottage had severe GSD, but ‘freak-house’? Really? Deciding that honesty would be my best foot forward, I replied with some truth.

“Energy control issues. Well that and some concern about slipping accidentally into an unidentified dimension or something while I sleep.”

“No shit?” Speedo-boy got to his feet. “Hey - you the reason all the Mystic Arts teachers were hanging in the attic the past couple days?”

“I guess so. That’s where I’m supposed to stay - and they did some magic circle thing around my bed.”

Green girl gracefully got to her feet in a smooth swaying motion. “You have a name?” she asked.

“Jordan. Jordan Emrys.” I smiled. “Nice to meet you all.”

That earned me a smile in return. “I’m Maia, and that’s Leland. He’s a junior, I’m a sophomore. Oh and that’s Evie. She’s a freshman.” She inclined her head towards the girl still on the couch who was studiously not looking at me.

“Pffft,” said Leland. “C’mon, this is Whateley! Do it properlike. I’m Sense, and our lovely greenery here is Dryad. The shy pretty one behind me is Mindshriek. How ‘bout you?” With the way his head moved to follow me, I could tell he was able to see through those blackout glasses somehow - they weren’t to cover blindness, in any case.

“Me? Oh, right, I’m Aradia. Sorry, this is all still really new to me. Not just the school, but well, code names, powers, everything.”

That earned me some looks of sympathy. “Just manifest?” asked Maia.

“Yeah. A month or so ago.” Director Goodman had my cover story include developing my ‘new’ Exemplar look and powers five weeks prior. My ‘old’ self was supposed to have been much shorter with darker hair - and previously needed glasses. An introvert bookworm type not interested in socializing would make the fabricated social-media presence (or lack thereof) for Jordan easier to fake according to Gregory.

Leland whistled. “Well, you won the ‘pretty’ lotto, that’s for sure.”

My face must have shown embarrassment as Maia went to punch Leland’s arm, but she pulled the strike a couple inches from his shoulder and lowered her arm. Okay, yes, I admit - I blushed at the boy’s complement. Happy?

“You hungry?” Maia asked quickly. “We can take you to Crystal Hall if you want. I could eat.”

“I guess? But shouldn’t I talk to Mrs. Cantrel first?”

“Nah,” said Leland. “Like I said, she’s busy. Rockslide had another episode and Mrs. Cantrel likes to be there for her when she comes out of it. C’mon, let’s go.” He moved towards the doorway, but paused to look over his shoulder at Evie. “You want to join us tonight? You know you’re always invited.”

The dark-haired girl just shook her head ‘no’. She turned her attention back to the television.

Leland shrugged. “Hafta ask.” He headed down the short hall to the cottage entrance. “Thankfully it’s a green flag day! Freedom!”

I glanced at Maia questioningly.

She giggled. “It means he doesn’t have to wear pants.”

 

~o~O~o~

 

After eating at the DPA’s small cafeteria for most of the past week, I had to admit the contrast was remarkable. Whateley kids from what I could see ate like kings and queens. The choices were tremendous, and I finally settled on a large antipasto salad accompanied by a tortilla soup with some garlic breadsticks.

This caused Leland to look at me funny. “I thought you said you were an Energizer too. That going to be enough food? Most of those types eat enough for five people, if not more.”

I looked down at my tray. “I don’t think my appetite has increased any.”

“Huh. Weird.”

They had asked me about my powers on the walk over. I gave a vague summary but didn’t mention specific levels. They may be cottage-mates and all, but we did just meet. Maia told me about hers: she was a biological blend of plant and primal human (her terms) - meaning that when she slept she literally became a tree and needed to take root. Problem was, in order to wake up she had to be physically uprooted first. Her room in Hawthorne had a hoist system that she’d bind her arms to before sleeping so the apparatus could just lift her out of the shallow soil they’d had to lay out for her floor.

She told the story about the time she first changed and how it had taken scientists over six months to figure that out. By then her roots had gone so deep that they had to chainsaw through her trunk to free her and get her to wake up. Seeing my horrified reaction she reassured me that it hadn’t hurt - when she sleeps she’s usually ‘in the Dreaming’ and so doesn’t feel a thing from her physical body.

We arrived at the Hall before I could ask her more about it because I was still curious, but was immediately distracted by the plethora of eating choices.

Most of the tables in the Hall were empty, though a few were occupied. Maia told me that when school was in session getting a table during breakfast or lunch rush could be tricky - especially if you didn’t have friends saving you a seat or weren’t in one of the big clubs that had reserved spots. I noted that not all the chairs were the same: some were much larger and obviously reinforced. The biggest examples looked pressurized with hydraulic lifts. I thought back to Natalie’s story of the girl-turned-golem and wondered how kids could handle that kind of change.

It wasn’t until we sat down that I noticed my new companions had selected unusual food items, especially considering the variety offered. Leland had a simple bowl of oatmeal into which he was stirring some kind of protein powder, whereas Maia had a raw steak accompanied by a glass full of some kind of brown smoothie. Seeing my puzzlement they both chuckled at me.

“Don’t mind our culinary predilections, Jordan,” Leland laughed. “Dryad here needs a mix of raw proteins and vegetable minerals. Her digestion was once termed ‘peculiar’ by the doctors in Doyle.” Maia stuck a rather brown tongue out at him, but didn’t debate the description. “As for myself,” he continued, “all my physical senses are crazy sensitive. I can see for miles, hear whispers in classrooms on the other side of campus, and I can tell you exactly what temperature, pressure and humidity it is.” He grinned and took a bite of his oatmeal. “Thing is,” he said around his mouthful, “that it’s all oversensitive and can overload my brain if I lose focus. So while this bowl of oatmeal may seem bland to you it’s actually at about the limit I can willingly let myself taste.”

I put down my fork, feeling my appetite dwindle in sympathy. “That’s awful.”

He just shrugged. “It is what it is. I could probably tell you the exact molecules that this stuff is made of if I tried. It all happened when I was a kid, so I don’t even remember what normal taste buds are like.”

“How old were you?” I asked in spite of myself, curiosity winning out.

“Five. The worst was my sense of smell, god that was awful. I could smell every last thing for miles around - every fungus, every person, animal, bird, every flower, you name it.” He shuddered.

“Could?” I looked carefully at his nose, but didn’t see anything like filters in his nostrils.

“I fixed it. My folks realized something was very wrong when I took the barbecue lighter, lit it, and torched the insides of both nostrils.” He stared off over my shoulder. “Solved the scent issue, but I am kinda glad they got to me before I could do the same to my eyes.”

He noticed I had stopped eating as I sat there in shock at his story and winced. “Oh shit, sorry - didn’t mean to put you off your food. Seriously, it’s okay. These glasses block almost all the light so I see more like normal folks with ‘em on, same with the earplugs - I actually hear because of what travels through my skull. It’s loud, but manageable.”

“What about touch?” I remembered Maia stopping herself from connecting her friendly jab with his skin.

“Eh, some days it’s better than others. Is why I have a waiver for green flag days to just wear these things,” he gestured towards under the table, “and flip-flops. I can deal with the wind if it’s not too strong. On red flag days, though, I have to wear a proper uniform - so they give me some whacked drugs that dull the sensations of my skin way down. I’m kinda loopy on that stuff; if I have quizzes or tests they let me just use the video conferencing setup we have in each room in Hawthorne. Anyway, that’s why I call myself ‘Sense’.” He smiled, shrugged again, and took another bite of oatmeal.

“Huh, I didn’t see a monitor or camera in my room. Granted I’m supposed to be getting a laptop.”

Maia had been hungrily devouring her raw steak, which provided a good view of how sharp her front teeth actually were. “Aren’t you up in the attic? Maybe they haven’t installed it all yet. Hey - as a mystic arts student myself, I’d love to see those circles you said the staff put up there. I bet they look cool.”

“Yeah, they do,” I agreed. “Though I’m not sure how comfortable I’ll be sleeping in it.” Ah hell, remembering Maia’s own sleeping arrangement I felt like an idiot and babbled quickly, “I’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”

I shoved some salad into my mouth and hoped she wouldn’t be offended. If she had been, she didn’t show it.

“So why’d you choose the name ‘Aradia’?” Leland asked instead.

From behind me maybe two tables away I heard a loud gasp, but I tried to answer him.

“Well, when I power up? I really start to glow, like under the skin white LED bright. All my powers seem connected to raw light mystic energy somehow. So, you know, ‘radiant’…Aradia! I had to choose something.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to try and explain how Soren had been the true source of the name. Yeah, no.

“How dare you!” From behind me a girl’s voice echoed across the cafeteria with sheer indignation, merging with the scrape of a chair being shoved backwards across the tiles. We all looked over to see a girl, obviously rather pretty with flowing raven hair and piercing green eyes, standing and staring at me with fists clenched at her sides. Her friend, a skinny girl with brown hair in a ponytail, stared up at her with a clinical expression.

“Excuse me?” I said in surprise.

The green-eyed girl, who was probably a few inches shorter than me (though I didn’t stand up to check), stalked over to our table. “I said, how dare you!”

I frowned. Even Leland and Maia were startled by the vehemence of this girls anger. “How dare I what?” I asked her.

“How dare you take that name! Are you even of The Path?” She wore the standard uniform blouse, but I noticed a silver necklace around her throat from which dangled a single black opal clasped in more silver. Something about that opal was bothersome, but her question distracted me.

“The…Path? What’s that?” I said, befuddled.

The girl spluttered and her eyes seemed to want to pop out of her head. Maia answered me in a cautious tone. “The Path is a specific form of Wicca. Tamara follows it, as does her mom.”

Green eyes flashed at Maia. “That’s ‘Sigil’ to you, and my mother is the High Priestess of the Wiccan Council! She does not merely ‘follow’ The Path - she IS the Path!”

Trying to redirect Tamara’s anger away from Maia, I said, “Hey, you’re upset with me, remember? So what’s the deal about me using the codename ‘Aradia’?”

That succeeded - she turned back to me in disgust. “How could you even pick a name without bothering to look it up properly. But to those of us serving the Goddess, using that name is like someone choosing ‘Jesus Christ’! A devout Christian would be outraged! You’re new and obviously an idiot - change it tomorrow and I’ll let this go.”

Hoo boy. Ender’s Game, challenges, Fight Club, first day in the prison yard. Fun, right?

Putting down my fork again (I really wasn’t making much headway on my salad, all things considered), I stood up so I could deliberately look down at Tamara. At the same time I reached out to the Light that seemed every day to be more and more readily available. I let my eyes and skin begin to burn with its glow.

“I may be new, but as I understand it as long as a name is not in use by another, it’s fair game. But if you really want me to choose another name because mine seems to offend you so badly, I’ll make you an offer. I’ll change mine…if you change yours.”

Her eyes widened with the incomprehensibility of my challenge, her mouth parted yet speechless.

My irritation may have gotten the better of me as I said, “Think of it as a test of your faith. If it means that much to you, what sacrifice to your Goddess would be too much to bear?”

“You…bitch!” Her hand flew towards my face.

Much to her surprise, I caught it. She was strong, definitely Exemplar, but lucky for me I was stronger and held her fast. I saw her shorter friend walk quietly up behind her.

“I’d rather not start a fight on my first day here," I said. “My offer stands, but I’ll do the research on the name and make up my own mind what to do about it. Until then…” I released her arm and took a step back. “Have a nice night!”

I both felt and saw her gathering energy about herself - sparkles appeared in my vision to flow upwards and spin around her upraised hand. It looked like she was about to start drawing in the air with her power when her friend tugged at Tamara’s other arm. Her friend shook her head ‘no’ at her, eyes looking back at me in disturbingly cold calculation.

Tamara, shaking off her friend’s hand, spat at my feet. “You’ll regret this, noobie. C’mon Fields, let’s leave this bitch to her freak Thornie friends.” With that she marched off with her friend following closely behind.

Inhaling and letting it out slow, I tried to release the energy I had called up. Turning back to Leland and Maia, I noticed Leland looking a bit pale. Maia, though, her eyes were closed and she had both palms held facing me with a blissful expression on her face.

Her fingertips had sprouted tiny little blue flowers.

“Maia? You okay?” I sat down, gawking at her hands.

“Mmmmm?” Her brown eyes opened and she shivered. “Oh wow. This is…amazing.” Her voice chimed distantly.

Leland and I glanced at each other in confusion, then back at Maia. “Uh…it is?” I asked.

“I’ve never felt anything like this…” She reached towards me and brushed a flower from her fingertip across the fading glow on my arm. Then, as the last of my light disappeared, she recoiled. “Oh my god!” She blurted, yanking her hand away from me.

Leland, his voice a bit awed, said, “I’ve never seen her grow flowers before. What did you do?”

“I just powered up a little-”

“A little? Look at her eyes, her pupils are totally dilated.”

I looked. He was right, they were.

Embarrassed, Maia snapped them shut and crossed her arms, hugging herself. We could see her trying to shake off the effect.

“Crap. I’m sorry Maia.”

She held up a hand at me. I watched the flowers fold into buds and disappear back into her fingers. “No, it’s not your fault. None of us knew. It’s just,” she bit her lip and blushed fiercely, visibly red even with her dark skin. “That was maybe the best thing I think I’ve ever felt.”

Leland just had to say it. “Dang, if that was just a little powered up - imagine if you went full strength!”

Maia bit her lip even harder, and I could see her breathing quicken at the thought.

“Uh, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I said cautiously.

Looking between us, Leland laughed. “Yeah, definitely not in the cafeteria anyway.”

“Oh my god,” Maia said again, and buried her face in her hands.

That got Leland laughing even harder. I tried, once again, to maybe finish my dinner. We sat in silence for a bit, except for an occasional chuckle from Leland, then I thought of something.

“Hey, why did Tamara call you ‘Thornies’?”

Leland turned his covered eyes towards me. “Isn’t that obvious? We live in Hawthorne. So we’re ‘Thornies’.”

It finally clicked, and I burst out with wild laughter.

Maia and Leland stared at me. Leland said, “What? It’s not that funny.”

I couldn’t contain my giggles, nor could I explain it to them: the irony of fate was just too hilarious. A short few days ago I had given up my rightful name.

You know: ‘Justin Henry Thorne’.

It seems the universe had decided that regardless, I was still meant to be a ‘Thorne’.

Grinning foolishly, I held up my glass to my new friends. “To Hawthorne, and to all us ‘Thornies’!”

With shrugs and confused looks, they both clinked my glass.

“To Hawthorne!”

 

~o~O~o~

 

We made it back to our cottage without incident. They both wanted to see my room, so I brought them up in the elevator on one condition: I wanted to borrow a tablet or something so I could use the Internet. Leland fetched his and handed it over without protest.

Once up there, they spent the first ten minutes chasing Khan around. Maia was thrilled at the thought of our cottage having a cat. Leland tried to play it cool, but I caught the grin on his face when he got Khan to chase after him in return. Maia then became distracted by the mystical circles on my floor, kneeling at the second circle. She seemed to be reading the Norse runes quietly to herself, slowly making her way around to examine the entire circuit.

As for me, I needed to know what Tamara had been going on about. She had been right on one point - I really should have done research before selecting any name.

Especially as mine had a Wikipedia entry that referenced a book, ‘Aradia, or the Gospel of the Witches’. I kid you not. No wonder Tamara freaked out.

There was a lot there, even stuff calling Aradia a demon. But it was the book from 1899 that really caught my attention, as it began with the story of Aradia’s birth to Diana and…Lucifer, whom it described as “the god of the Sun and of the Moon, the god of Light”.

Daughter of Lucifer. That really didn’t sound good. I’d have said, ‘What the hell, Soren?’ except the answer could well be: ‘yes, exactly’.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Leland and Maia hung around for bit longer while I kept reading, but soon Leland wanted to get to his computer and log into some multi-player video game which he openly admitted he was addicted to. Maia concluded that the circles on my floor were too advanced for her to understand properly and left to go watch more Netflix in the lounge downstairs.

Thanks to Leland graciously letting me hold onto his tablet, I spent another hour or two trying to do further research on my chosen codename, though I didn’t find much more other than interesting historical details regarding Stregerian witches. Leland, before his inner call to ‘grind more raiding mats’ as he put it, had been amused that he and the author of the Aradia book shared a name - the author was one ‘Charles Godfrey Leland’. He thought that was pretty cool.

Other than Aradia being a goddess-type, who was either born here or somehow came down to earth from spirit to keep doing magic due to her being the ‘daughter of Lucifer and Diana’, I didn’t find any other connection to angels. If anything the whole described mystical tradition was somewhat anti-society for the time and therefore anti-Christian. In fact a modern follower of the ‘Aridian Tradition’ had accused Leland of ‘Christianizing’ the legend with his eighteenth century book and description of her.

Frankly I was more confused at the end of those hours than I had been when I started. I began to wonder if Soren had called me by that name purely as some sort of inside joke. Yet at the same time he had just recited a solemn Hebrew prayer and seemed very serious. What he specifically said was ‘For you are my Sabbath candle…my Aradia’, in which case he may have just been referring to the legend itself with me being only ‘his’ metaphoric version of her, due perhaps to some angelic or mythic similarity.

If that was the case, the Lucifer’s daughter angle might be the important part and not the goddess-based tradition of Aradia herself. Maybe.

I wondered if Soren would answer any of my questions after I flattened his nose. Worth the risk, in my opinion. After all, why the hell did he have to go and kidnap my niece if he was interested in me all along? Couldn’t he have just grabbed me first? Somewhere in the back of my mind I felt like I had possible answers to these questions lurking within the depths of my subconscious, but no matter how much I beat my inner face against those waters nothing of substance deigned to reveal itself.

Eventually I dropped the tablet in frustration upon the bed and pulled out Dad’s old Spanish flamenco guitar. I needed to do something entirely different and distract myself or I’d start shouting at the walls. And if the room wasn’t soundproof enough that could lead to campus administrators deciding I needed padded walls instead of just the funky triple-circle-of-whatever-it-did carved and painted on the floor.

The poor guitar had been neglected for many years and I had to restring it first before I could play anything. Fortunately I had followed Dad’s tradition when the instrument was last packed into its case so there was a spare set of strings in there along with a tuning fork. Forks don’t need batteries and therefore were excellent backups to the fancier electronic tuning devices most people use these days. Once I replayed in my mind how to tie the tiny knots on the strings properly to secure them to the pegs and to the bridge, I got it tuned. New strings need to be played for awhile before they stretch and settle, so I had to re-tune them pretty much after each piece I attempted to remember and play. You can break them in faster if you just strum the heck out of them for a bit, but I was trying to ease into it a little more slowly than that. Again - didn’t want to freak any possibly listening neighbors with sheer chaotic flamenco hammering.

Even if that fit my current mood.

So I started simple with some scales to ease fingers back into the patterns. That took some getting used to all by itself as my fingers were now not only more slender but also longer than what they were only a week ago. Strength and nimbleness, though, that they had to spare - nor were they getting sore from pressing on the fretboard without the usual callouses developed from regular play.

Between being able to remember in absolute detail all the sheet music I was missing and the remarkable dexterity of the new hands, I had to admit that being an Exemplar had some nice perks. After getting through the scales and chord progressions I added some tremelo on top as I regained confidence that hey, maybe I could still play this thing!

Finally I began to test out the various pieces I used to know, finding the muscle memory still rusty and slightly off. But the more I played the smoother it became as the brain started to adapt the old commands to the framework of new hands, wrists, and fingers. Soon I began to lose myself in the music of malaguenas, fandangos, soleares, and especially the soft moving tones of granadinas.

As I played my mind conjured the perfect sounds of my father’s professional skills that I had listened to as a toddler - memories I hadn’t even known I possessed with such clarity. I found myself trying to play counterpoint to his melodies and falsetas, overlaying my halting tracks onto the much more accomplished remembered music he once joyfully played on this very same guitar.

Closing my eyes, I could pretend he was sitting there with me, his loving smile widening with encouragement whenever I missed a note and had to correct.

It took Khan nudging at my ankles for me to realize my cheeks had become damp once again. After wiping under my eyes with the back of a hand, I carefully returned the guitar to its case on the floor before letting Khan hop into the now-available lap. He tried to help dry my face with the furry sides of his own. I held him close and was very glad he at least was still with me.

Eventually we got up. I put on new pajamas and brushed my teeth in the little bathroom, and together we curled up on the large bed within its triple layers of magic.

Khan may have fallen asleep first, but if so he only won by a few seconds.

 

Chapter Fourteen - Metaphor

 

Sandy grass brushes bare toes, a silent ballet honoring the minstrel whispers of an ocean breeze. Dense haze swirls in counterpoint, encompassing all within its damp blanket. Waves drumming slowly against nearby rocks provide the heartbeat of a dance between mist and earth.

Drifting towards the inviting percussion, chills rise from the ground through soles and into ankles while elemental cousins thicken and press wetly against face and body. Hands reach outward to pierce the solidifying air but they too are stymied by the unusual barrier denying further movement.

Behind the fog a voice calls, echoing a pull from within. Frustration and desire summon will and light hoping to burn clear the forbidding mist. Hands aglow with inner resolve sink into cloud, illuminating the multiple patterns defining the essence of the boundary…

 

Once again a loud obnoxious phone yanked me awake.

With head still resting on a pillow, everything swam unsteadily between the dark rafter beams above and the remnants of a fog still clouding sight and mind. Khan was perched on my chest, resting one paw against the middle of my forehead.

I was shining again - riding a continual wave of goosebumps rushing through each limb - but when my vision finally focused on the waking world I saw I wasn’t the only source of illumination.

Khan’s usual yellow-green reflective eyes glowed a brilliant gold that matched my own.

He meowed. Being too surprised to move I just lay there watching as both our lights faded quickly away. The phone of course repeated its shrill and impatient announcement.

Groaning, I slid sideways out from under the blanket so as not to dump Khan unceremoniously onto the floor. I managed to grab the handset over on the desk before it finished its fourth ring.

“Hello?” My voice sounded both groggy and anxiously confused. Go figure.

“Jordan, dear?” It was Mrs. Cantrel. “A number of packages were just delivered for you. Also it is nearing eight o’clock - if you want breakfast, best get it soon so you won’t be late to your ten o’clock appointment.”

“Oh. Guess I overslept, sorry. I’ll be down in a minute. Thanks!”

“Don’t dawdle now,” she said before hanging up.

I stumbled back over to Khan who had taken advantage of my exodus to stretch out across the remains of the warm spot on the bed. “You okay, buddy?” I asked, but he just yawned in response before rolling over and exposing more fluffy white belly. He seemed rather nonplussed so his belly got a good rub while I pondered what I had just seen and what it might mean.

Yep, I had no clue.

Shaking my head at yet more magical weirdness, I rummaged in the wardrobe for the white t-shirt with a picture of Alice in her blue dress falling down the rabbit hole from Alice In Wonderland. We both were falling into an entirely different world from what we had ever known - and who knew what we’d find at the bottom?

As I slipped off the dark red pajama top there was movement out on the balcony. Without thinking I turned to try and see what it was, crossing over to the doors to get a clearer view of what might be out there.

Thick summer clouds rolled past to dim the morning sky. However they weren’t the source of the motion. Perched on the railing guarding the edge of the roof was the hawk I had seen yesterday. At least, I thought it was the same hawk - the colors looked darn similar - but now I was much closer.

The bird was staring through the glass right at me. It even tilted its head sideways.

I looked down at my bare chest and realized that if a person had been standing out there they would be enjoying a very nice view of my oh-so-perky bosom.

Laughing at myself with the absurdity of needing to be careful in the future about going topless, I put hands on my hips and began hopping up and down on tiptoes as if to emphasize my own internal point as to why. This naturally caused the new frontal appendages to jiggle quite merrily.

“How’s that for a good eyeful, eh birdie?” I said as I continued to bounce in amusement before the peeping hawk.

Magnificent wings stretched outward in response, and damn me if the bird’s head didn’t then bop up and down in sync with my rhythm as if it was also in on the joke and enjoying the show.

Sudden self-consciousness flooded across my cheeks. I tried to cover myself with my arms and stood there awkwardly with face assuredly aflame.

With what I swear was a screech of amusement, the hawk launched itself upward to fly over the roof.

“That wasn’t weird or anything,” I muttered in embarrassed confusion.

Deciding to try not to think about it, I hurriedly got dressed while stifling a lingering yawn or two. I didn’t know how late I had stayed up as I hadn’t checked, but obviously the sleep I’d gotten hadn’t been enough. Isn’t that usually the case though?

Now clothed in jeans-shorts, Alice t-shirt, and sandals, I hastily pulled hair back into a white scrunchy then went downstairs. And no, I didn’t forget to put on a bra first. Sheesh.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Mrs. Cantrel hadn’t been kidding. Resting just inside the lobby was a pile of cardboard shipping boxes all addressed to Jordan Emrys.

Hopefully I didn’t annoy anyone on other floors waiting for a ride by using a box to wedge the elevator doors open as I loaded them all in, repeating the same to get them out once I got back up to the attic. It wasn’t that they were too heavy for me to lift all at once, it’s just that even with enhanced strength, juggling that many bulky items did not seem like a good idea.

With time being of the essence if I wanted breakfast (which was sounding better and better with each passing minute), I went through the process of opening them all up just to see what was inside, figuring I’d unpack later.

To my happy surprise Cecilia Rogers had already overnighted enough items to provide for at least one full Whateley uniform, including a single pair of black leather pumps. The last time I wore anything with heels were some cowboy boots back at the end of college so these were going to be interesting to get used to. She also managed to finish a few sets of matching underthings. I will admit I was looking forward to trying them on, if only because I bet they were more comfortable than the much cheaper ones I was currently wearing. Sadly I didn’t have time to do that right now.

Another box revealed a Samsonite laptop bag, and sure enough the other slender box indeed contained a new laptop. Hooray! Knowing that starting it up would cause horrible distraction while I irresistibly customized the desktop colors and background image (not to mention wanting to explore what security features it had) I reluctantly put it aside.

The specifications looked pretty darn good though - even if it might need one of those cooling-fan laptop pads should I ever try to play modern videos game on it. I hadn’t played any for years, but hey - I was a kid again, right? After all, it might blow my cover if I didn’t at least install a couple. Maybe I should ask Leland in more detail about what he plays.

That left six heavy boxes which had me puzzled, and none of them had return address labels. After getting through the thick packing tape I found they were all full of books: paperbacks and hardbacks packed solidly to maximize the use of the container space.

The second box contained a note:

Books have been one constant comfort through the years. May these help restart the collection from which you have been separated. - C.S.

‘C.S.’ - Callas Soren. It had to be.

Forgetting the time constraints, I dug through the volumes and formed piles on the floor. My favorite authors were all included: Charles De Lint, Steven Brust, Gaiman (including all his graphic novels!), Heinlein, and many more. Soren hadn’t gotten all the books that likely still lined the shelves of my old home, that would have been impossible, as between Caroline and myself we had amassed a couple thousand or so. Thus we had shelves covering every available wall which, in my opinion, had made our home…well, an actual Home.

Other than the fact Khan lived there, of course - who naturally had immediately claimed and occupied one of the emptied boxes. Yep, cat.

There were some other books I didn’t recognize mixed in. The Book of Enoch, The Book of Jubilees, Learn Biblical Hebrew, A Dictionary of Angels, and another one called Inner Space: Introduction to Kabbalah, Meditation, and Prophecy by a rabbi named Aryeh Kaplan.

Talk about your not-so-subtle reading assignments. I hadn’t even gotten my course schedule figured out and I already had homework.

Oh crap, the adviser meeting! And breakfast!

Instead of using the elevator (which I had just rudely monopolized) I bolted down the stairwell that sat next to it - noting that its door leading to my room also had a keycard security panel. Nice.

I ran out the front doors and past the hospital to arrive behind Schuster Hall at the cafeteria. Oh, and it had started raining pretty hard outside while I was distracted by books and things, so I arrived fairly drenched as I didn’t bring (or own) an umbrella. Would need to add that to the web-ordering wish list.

Considering the late time of morning the cafeteria was pretty empty but the food was still hot. One hastily scarfed ham and swiss omelet augmented by a pile of bacon later and I was out the door heading down the road towards Kirby Hall - a round medieval-town looking building where Rabbi Immanuel Kirov was supposed to have an office. According to the clock that hung above the cafeteria’s food-line I had less than ten minutes to get over there and find it.

Getting further soaked as I jogged and hoping to cut the distance, I turned off the main road’s pavement to run across the lawn to the architecturally mismatched hall. But as I went onto the grass my right foot came down and to my dismay sank a good six inches into a muddy sinkhole.

The ankle twisted immediately in protestation as momentum slammed me forward face first into more mud-covered grass.

Uttering some rather un-lady-like curses I extracted my foot from the muck, adding a string of additional epithets when discovering a shoe had decided it rather liked things down at the bottom and hadn’t come up with the wet sock enshrouded toes.

My ankle throbbed painfully as knees gained their own layer of mud while I shoved a hand into the hole to fish out the reluctant tennis shoe.

That’s when I spotted the flagpole back at the square wasn’t waving a green banner: today it was a bright and obvious red. If I channeled any energy to heal, I’d become a human lamp - especially in the dim light of this storm-occluded day. No healing in public like that would be tolerated, and getting in trouble on my first full day on campus really seemed like a bad idea.

Shit shit shit.

With the surprisingly warm downpour matching a rapidly souring mood, I tested putting weight on the complaining foot - only to have it crumple in further hot agony.

Gritting teeth, I dragged it slowly across the soaked lawn towards Kirby Hall in halting and painful stutter-step-slides.

A tall kid somewhere north of six foot fifteen in height and looking like a truck barely contained by a school uniform ran up to me. His blond hair was damply plastered against his head, otherwise I’d have sworn he looked like Guile from Streetfighter - only wider and more muscular, if you can believe that.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. “I saw you trip.”

“Just…need to get indoors,” I said through the pulsing pain throbbing in time with each heartbeat. “Will be fine then.”

He looked down at my ankle which clearly didn’t look fine. In fact it had swollen to the size of a football - an object he probably was very familiar with. Or at least ought to have been.

“You really should get to Doyle for that. I could carry you if you’d like.”

He sounded genuinely concerned, so I stopped trying to sludge forward with a sigh. I looked around to make sure no one else was within earshot.

“I can regenerate, but it’s, uh, obvious when I do.” I winced as I tried to find my balance, and without asking first the guy put an arm around my shoulder to hold me upright. Which, dammit, I needed.

“Oh. There’s a girl’s restroom just inside the entrance to Kirby. That’s where you’re going, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“C’mon, I’ll help.” Finding myself practically lifted off the ground by his one arm, with his aid I managed to hop across the lawn. He kept talking - I think he was trying to distract me from the injury by doing so.

“So you new here? I’m Brendan Rogers and live over in Emerson.”

“Hi. I’m Jordan. Moved into Hawthorne yesterday.”

His step stuttered for a second. “Hawthorne?” he asked, a note of caution creeping into his voice.

I shook my head. “Nothing to worry about. Energy issues when I sleep. They put me in the attic - it’s big enough for the protection wards.”

“Oh.” He thought for a second and must have decided that I was safe enough as he perked back up. “Well, welcome to Whateley, Jordan! Nice to meet you. And we’re almost there,” he added as we approached the doors.

“Nice meeting you too, Brendan.” I couldn’t help but feel like a tiny hobbit in comparison to him - his arm was a tree trunk that must have been doused with Miracle-Grow since sprouting. “And uh, thanks for the help. I really appreciate it.”

He grinned broadly like a puppy who may have just found his new favorite thing.

Oh crud. I was his damsel in distress and he was playing the part of the hero.

“Always glad to help!” he said brightly. Then after a thoughtful pause he said, “Say, tomorrow is our usual Emerson popcorn-fueled Friday movie night, you’re more than welcome to stop by - our cottage is mostly empty so there’s plenty of seats…”

Holy hell, the poor guy was trying to ask me out…without actually asking me out. Smooth attempt, I’d grant him that. He even held the doors for me when we got to them so I could limp through while patiently waiting for my answer.

“You know, I might do that,” I said after hobbling past still clutching my mud-covered shoe. Wait, what did I just say? The puppy’s eyes gained their own inner glow of excitement and I hastily added, “But I can’t promise, okay? I just got here and was warned I may have a ton of preparation work to do before classes start to catch up to everyone. That’s who I’m going to go see now - my adviser - so I can figure all that out.”

“Oh, well that’s cool if you can’t. But we’re going to marathon all the Prophecy movies - they have Christopher Walken in them, it’s gonna be great!” There was an edge of disappointment in his voice at the prospect of me not showing up. Dangit!

We made it across the lobby to the door of the women’s restroom. I turned to face him with as best a smile as I could manage in spite of my ankle pounding all the nerves they could find. “Hey, tell you what - if I can’t make it, I’ll take a rain check, okay? Only fair, considering we just met in the rain.”

He laughed easily. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair. Though I’ll still hope you can be there. Listen, I got to run myself - you sure you’ll be okay once you, you know…” He gestured at the bathroom door.

I nodded. “I’ll be fine. Thanks again.”

With a grin he turned to go. “Remember, eight o’clock at Emerson! Ask for Tank!”

‘Tank’. Of course.

He even turned to wave at me again through the glass windows of the lobby doors before running off through the summer shower.

With a groan that wasn’t just about the twisted foot, I dragged myself past the threshold into the girl’s room and one of its stalls.

 

~o~O~o~

 

After making sure there was no one else in the bathroom, I reached within to summon the light and let it flow into my poor ankle. It was starting to get easier and easier to tap into that flow, bringing with it a sense of peace for which I was grateful. I think it also messed with my mind too - I kept thinking back to Brendan’s genuine smile and his desire to help someone in need. Asking me to join him for the movies only occurred to him after trying to make conversation - his initial rush to my side was only to give aid. Only after we were halfway to the lobby did he realize he had a cute girl under his wing.

Even if that cute girl happened to be me, I still felt moved by it somehow. Must be a side effect of channeling this much of that heavenly light.

It took a good number of minutes and I probably looked like someone warning away ships from shallow dangerous beaches, but the pain and swelling went way down and I was able to rotate the foot without any issues.

I sighed deeply with immense relief and, with a bit of reluctance, let the energy connection to the above close off.

Stepping out of the stall on two steady feet, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and muttered a few additional choice words. My visage was covered in mud: face, shirt, hair, hands, arms, and knees all had wet soil smeared on it. No wonder Brendan hadn’t thought of me that way at first - I looked like a slender swamp thing!

And my adviser appointment was probably either in a few more minutes or I was now late. With no clock (or phone), I wasn’t sure which.

Using the sink, mirror, and a ton of paper towels I did the best I could, plopping squishy shoes over utterly soaked socks for good measure.

I hoped that the rabbi didn’t mind an ‘earthy’ smell wafting off his students.

Heading out the door I almost bumped into another student about my apparent age or older. One look at me and she shook her head, causing all the multi-colored beads at the ends of her hair to clatter against each other.

“Damn, girl. What in tarnation happened to you?”

“Sinkhole in the lawn - wish I had time to shower but I don’t. Do you know where Rabbi Kirov’s office is?”

“Down this hallway and three doors to the left there.” She pointed.

“Thanks!” I hurried past her to follow the directions.

“Hey, wait up a sec!” she called out. I paused, turning back to her with puzzled annoyance as she jogged closer.

“Yeah?”

“Hold still a moment, all right?” she said as she looked up and down the halls. I realized she was making sure we were alone. Lifting one of her creme-colored hands, she closed eyes in concentration while murmuring words under her breath I didn’t understand.

To my amazement, the dirt and grime that had soaked into clothes, skin, and hair flowed slowly off in multiple spirals which all coalesced into a single ball of mud hovering over her upraised palm. With another gesture from her other hand I felt a whoosh of heat suck the residue of moisture from shoes, socks, shirt, and well…everything. Head to toe was now dry and clean - as if I’d just thrown on fresh clothes right after a shower.

“Wow!” I didn’t try to hide my amazement. “That was awesome, thank you!”

The girl smiled warmly. “You’re in the mystic halls, hon. I’m in the advanced class. You new?”

“Yeah,” I smiled back. “Not used to all this magic yet. Really cool.”

“Yep, it sure is. You going to be a student of the arts?”

“Honestly I have no idea, but maybe? I mean, I need to learn control over the energies I’ve been channeling, so…”

“Energies, huh? That might explain this delicious aura you’ve got goin’ on.” She brushed an open hand over my head and shoulder with a light touch that also yielded a momentary visible spark. Her smile widened, “Now that was interesting. They assign you a cottage yet?”

“Yeah, Hawthorne.” Before she could ask I explained like I did to Brendan. “They needed a large space for this triple circle thing - it’s to contain my energy issues when I sleep.”

Unlike the heroic puppy earlier she didn’t flinch when I mentioned Hawthorne. “A Thornie, eh? Some good folks in there.”

“How about you? I’m still learning them all.”

“I’m in Poe, sweetie. Anyone mention us yet?” She laughed as if to an inside joke of some sort.

“Only Mrs. Shugendo,” I answered truthfully. “She mentioned something about me being initially assigned to Poe - but the rooms weren’t large enough for their circles I guess so they put me in Hawthorne instead.”

This surprised the girl, and she looked me over with a new contemplative expression. “Really. In that case, I’m Lauren.” She winked at me.

“I’m Jordan - Jordan Emrys.” I wasn’t sure what potentially being assigned to her cottage had to do with anything, unless she thought that if I got my energy issues under control I might be moved there into a normal room. I hadn’t thought of that myself - she might be right. Huh. From what I read in the school catalog brochure that would mean I’d be given a roommate.

Wonder if I could petition for a single anyway if it came to that.

“Oh you are a cutie, aren’t you?” Noticing my sudden distraction in thought, she giggled and tossed the ball of dirt into the air towards me to catch. “See you around, Jordan!” she said before merrily skipping on down the hall to head into the restroom I had come out of while still chuckling to herself.

“Uh, yeah, see ya!” I said somewhat lamely, though at least I managed to catch the ball. It was completely dry and packed solid.

Still holding it in my hand, I found the rabbi’s office and knocked on the closed door.

A deep yet calm voice with a slight accent that held a hint of New York and Yiddish answered. “Enter.”

It wasn’t until later that evening that I realized that hey, wait a minute, had Lauren been flirting with me too?

 

~o~O~o~

 

Rabbi Immanuel Kirov was sitting in his office behind a large oaken desk covered by piles of leather-bound books, loose papers, and at least three dirty tea-cups each of a different style: glass in silver metal carrier, white decorative porcelain, and also a blue mug whose golden letters read, “Want to win at the Game of Life? Git God!”

Having met his two brothers, first at the hospital with the shorter and stouter Doctor Anton, and second at the DPA with the mountain of a man Professor Gregory, I found Immanuel to be a cross between the two and obviously the eldest. Despite his slouched demeanor I could tell he was taller than me, but unlike Gregory his face and chest were narrow except for a belly held back by red suspenders.

His white beard, while quite grand both in length and width, was immaculately well-trimmed but his eyebrows had the shared wild bushiness of his brothers. The wispy hair was also reminiscent of Albert Einstein’s frenetic style - albeit tempered by a hand-crocheted blue and green kippah resting atop the sparse fractal mess.

He gestured vaguely towards me with yet another teacup (glass with golden metal holder) without looking up. Twin bespectacled eyes were locked upon the pages of a huge tome dominating the center of his desk.

“Come in, come in. Have some tea; the samovar is freshly full.”

Thanks to my friend Isaiah (who I hoped was doing okay with Danielle and vice versa), I recognized the rabbi’s Russian tea apparatus: a polished bronze contraption consisting of a lower heated pot with a spigot, and a smaller teapot resting on top. It sat aside a small selection of presumably clean teacups, all on a table that had been wedged between two tall bookshelves filled with even more books of various sizes. Some volumes were labeled in Russian, others in Hebrew or Greek, and a few that I walked past may have been Sanskrit.

Quite a collection.

After dropping the dirtball into a nearby trashcan, I filled half a cup with the deeply steeped tea before using the spigot to dispense the cooler water and dilute the potency to something I might enjoy. I skipped the available sugar or jam.

“To use the samovar, pour from the top…oh! You’re familiar with them?”

I crossed in front of his desk and sat in a well-used red-leather chair. “Yes, a friend of mine has one, thank you.”

Adjusting the bi-focals on his nose he peered at me for a long moment. “You must be our newest student, Ms. Emrys.” He nodded to himself as if confirming a theory he had held doubts about before.

“Yes, sir. I was supposed to be here at ten this morning.” Glancing about, I noticed his office did not have a clock - how late was I?

“Mmm. Is it ten already?” He patted at his shirt pockets, frowned, and then rummaged in the ones in his slacks before staring over at the brown professorial suit jacket hanging by the door. “My watch is likely in that coat of mine.”

He paused and I wondered if he had meant for me to go fetch it but before I could rise from my seat (while still holding the rather hot teacup by its saucer), he waved a hand dismissively. “No matter, we are both here, and thus we were on time for that!”

He chuckled to himself at the joke, and then his eyes fell back to the tome on his desk. He started murmuring the words while he continued reading from where he had left off a moment ago.

I sat quietly for a minute which proceeded to drag on to two, or even three. While the tea was quite good, I finally had to prompt him. “Sir?”

Without looking up he pointed towards his book with his non-cup ladened hand. “This part right here is most interesting, you see.”

“Uh, it is?”

“Oh most definitely. It has clarified a few things I was concerned about quite nicely.” He nodded happily at the book. I sat up straighter and tried to get a look at the open pages hidden from view by the stack of papers lying loosely between me and it. The font was tiny for such a large tome, and as the letters were obviously Hebrew I was none the wiser.

“Clarified what?” I asked.

He leaned back in the chair, taking a sip from his cup while his eyes twinkled behind the glasses.

“It has made clear that I should not try to teach you.”

What? He had to be kidding! After Gregory’s recommendations and my hopes for actually learning control of all the craziness, maybe even figuring out what it all meant, anger flared instant and hot.

“Then what the hell am I doing here…sir.” I didn’t shout it. I should have earned points for that alone. My teacup, though, began to rattle on the saucer it was being held by.

His expression puzzled as he took in my obvious confusion and anger. “Why to learn, of course.” Then understanding finally blossomed across his face. “Oh! I think you’ve misunderstood.”

“Have I.” I glared at him.

“Yes, yes. You see, as one of the Malakhim - or perhaps of one of the other ranks - the usual classes we offer would be utterly misguided for you.”

“Malakhim?” Huh?

He nodded. “Malakhim. A Hebrew term for angels, although it specifically refers to messenger angels. There are many ranks, call them ‘types’ if you prefer, of angels - and you are indeed of their number.” He spoke with the conviction of absolute certainty and took another sip of tea.

“How can you be so sure?” The entire train of my thoughts had derailed at the station, leaving behind a mighty mess of confusion madly trying to scrape coherency together.

“Because I warded my office this morning so that only someone with the spirit of one of the Blessed Host could open the door. Turned out such a spell was easier to perform than I expected. As you were my only morning appointment, it seemed a good way to settle any doubts I had over the reports I was given.” He shrugged.

My hand was still trembling. I carefully placed saucer and cup on top of one of the book piles on the desk for their safety. “You really are sure?” I asked quietly.

“Oh yes. Anyone else, or any thing come to think of it, would have had to tear through the door to gain entry - and see? It is entirely still intact.”

My stomach felt sick.

“It’s not completely unprecedented,” he was saying. “But also is indeed exciting! It is said that one of the greatest prophets, Elijah, was an angel himself before taking on the form of man. He is commonly thought to have been raised up as Sandalphon - the great conveyor of prayers whose sandals touch the physical. He’s the leader of the Ophanim, by the way, the rank or order known as The Wheels. Sandalphon may also have had other incarnations besides Elijah as well, you see…” He trailed off as he realized I wasn’t properly listening. “Are you alright?” He asked with sudden curious concern.

No, I wasn’t alright. My mind had been treating Nick’s idea as a remote possibility, one to worry about later if ever confirmed but not relevant for the decisions of the moment. I had figured that it would be months if not years before such a thing could be determined - but my knowledge of magic and the expertise of those that wielded it was pathetically small. The time to face the prospect, crashing in abruptly as it did, had arrived unexpectedly and all the fears that I had been unconsciously shoving in a dark closet broke free to flood everything, thoughts whiplashing with uncontrollable questions. So I’m an actual angel, like ‘Of The Lord’? Did I suddenly need to believe in God? What if I didn’t? Would I fall to Hell immediately? Would things from down there try to hunt me in either case? Is that what Tsáyid was? Could he have been sent by Hell to kill me?

Was I a danger to Danielle by trying to stay near her as a result?

Could I be a danger to everyone? Could my powers harm the kids at this school? Or the teachers? Circe hadn’t wanted me here - what did she believe I would do or cause? Should I just leave? But where would I go? Without the school I had no money and barely existed. Wouldn’t I just cause more damage somewhere else?

My panic grew and grew; I hyperventilated without realizing it. I was oblivious to the tingling in my hands and the narrowness my vision had become.

“Shhh. It will be alright.” A hand was on my shoulder, gentle in touch yet providing an anchor upon which to focus. I had been rocking in my chair, arms and skin flashing with chaotic pulses of energy as I huddled there with a chest struggling to contain a heart beating the irregular drums of internal confusions and fears.

The rabbi knelt beside me and chanted quietly, foreign words running through each other to form a calm and steady rhythm.

My heart attuned itself to the pace of his mantra, and my breathing became more regular. The crazy dancing of the lights under my skin mellowed into smoother cycles of bright and dim.

Sensing I was calmer, Immanuel ceased his chanting and opened his eyes. Gazing within them I found incredible depths of compassion pouring forth from his voice and touch. I know it sounds weird, but it’s how I saw and felt it.

He spoke, hardly louder than a whisper yet clear as a crystal bell.

“Fear not, for you are where you are meant to be.”

There was a difference to the quality of his words - they were slower, more measured, and somehow…they were pure and full of truth.

I did not understand it, but his words soaked into me and extinguished the flames my frantic fears had summoned one by one.

It left me feeling at ease and strangely empty. All my worries, not just about being an angel, but everything - all the events of the past week - had been washed away. Even stresses and pains I had carried within myself for years were now at a safe distance and in this moment put aside.

The internal peace his chant and words had summoned was simply sublime.

“How did you…?” I couldn’t even conjure thoughts to correctly describe it.

He kept a watchful eye on me and let go of my shoulder. “Words of truth have power,” he gently explained. “Here, finish your tea.” He handed me my cup and saucer.

My hands, now returned to their normal luminescence of pale non-tanned skin, were surprisingly steady. I drank as commanded while marveling at what he had done.

Rabbi Immanuel Kirov returned to his chair, sinking into the comfort of the old leather and padding.

“I had believed,” he said slowly, “that Mr. Nicolas Wright would have already confirmed for you what you are - and perhaps even offered introductory explanations of what it could mean. It seems I was mistaken. I am sorry.”

I could feel sympathy and regret emanating from him. Finding my voice I said, “Nick had to leave immediately to check into something. We didn’t get a chance to talk again before he left.”

He removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any notions of what an angel is?” He managed a gentle smile and replaced the spectacles over its rather impressive perch.

I shook my head, still floating within the tranquility. “Other than common culture’s understanding, no - I wasn’t raised religious.”

“That’s alright, and in fact may help. No misunderstandings to cloud your thoughts.”

“I suppose. I just had - have - a lot of confusion and questions.” I found I was able to think with clarity, yet I knew the effect would not last forever.

“Will you believe me if I tell you that everything will be fine?” he asked.

“I…I honestly don’t know. I usually rely more on facts than belief.”

He breathed in deeply. “Well, perhaps we should start simple and provide you with possible frameworks of thought. Are you now up to listening and considering?”

I nodded, because yes - I felt I was, thanks to him. “I’m all ears, sir. Anything that could help make sense of…everything that’s happened.”

He paused to consider his next words carefully.

“You must first understand that there are many ways of viewing the world, many ways a person may assemble their perceptions of spiritual, physical, and even the mental landscapes with which they may come in contact.”

That’s starting ‘simple’? He continued.

“This is important because our understandings shape the way we think, the way we feel, and the way we act. When it comes to magical or spiritual matters - this is key.”

“I think I can understand that…sort of like how when they test for magic ability they check what resonances work and what doesn’t?”

“Yes, exactly!” He beamed at me, his eyes regaining their earlier merry sparkle. “To be a proper scholastic adviser for you, I’ve been granted access to your entire file - thus I am aware you were a computer programmer, correct?”

“Uh, yes?” That seemed like a non-sequitur, so I frowned slightly.

“And you most likely have had to use several different programming languages in the course of your career?”

I nodded, beginning to see what he might try to drive at. “Sure. Each has their own strengths and weaknesses, but in the end they still manage to make the computer do things.”

“Precisely. The same can be said of magic, and also of ways - paradigms - of understanding the spiritual worlds. They are methods of forming the complexities of instructions to accomplish what is desired.”

“Alright, but what does that have to do with angels?”

“I’m getting to that. Your computer languages, they get translated into something else first though, do they not? A deeper level of instruction?”

“Well yes - machine code: the actual binary instructions that the processor can execute. The languages are higher abstractions of that logic, which allow us to build much larger and more complicated systems that can do a lot more. To do it all direct in machine code would be insane at the complexities of things we build these days - it’d be too much for a programmer or even a group of programmers to manage.”

He nodded. “Then would it make sense to you if I said that, for example, I use my training in Hebrew and especially in the Kabballah and study of Torah as my abstraction and paradigm for the commands I impose upon the system of the world? And that Circe, or the Norse practitioners, Kemetics, and all the other magical traditions have their own language and patterns of spells and workings?”

Okay, that made sense, at least to me. “Sure.”

“Then let’s extend the metaphor slightly and say that beings of spirit are akin to self-aware programs, each also written in their own languages - albeit at potentially deeper layers than we humans use. Some could be likened to direct firmware of the computer or perhaps the operating system that runs atop that fundament.”

“Uh. Wait, give me a moment.” He paused, allowing me time to think. If a magical working was like a program, executing upon the world, and spirits were programs themselves…huh. “So spirits are self-coherent instruction sets also running on the, uhm, the computer which is the universe?”

He smiled. “Very good. We often describe them as self-coherent energies. Their patterns are their programming in this metaphor.”

“Are you trying to say that an angel is a kind of artificial intelligence formed of spiritual energy?”

“Yes, but they are also, in my belief, the direct micro-code as spoken by the Creator of all that the computer was, is, and ever will be - purposed to not just be the hidden codes running along all the inner components such as access between memory and the processor, but also as needed they act as security and anti-virus to prevent foreign or internal entities from threatening the entire system.”

He looked deeply into my eyes and said, “Angels are the direct words uttered by the Name made manifest - carrying and embodying His fundamental and vital instructions throughout the layers of all Creation.”

Oh. Is that all? Shit.

 

~o~O~o~

 

The rabbi kindly refilled our cups while I sat there trying to process and wrap my mind around what he had just attempted to explain.

“Here, drink. Tea always helps such thinkings.”

I thanked him, and took a sip before venturing a question. “But what about the other, uh, ‘paradigms’, of beliefs? They all have their own versions of a beginning of the Universe, and gods, goddesses, and all that?”

He raised his steaming cup in a small salute. “I am glad you asked! I absolutely must admit that, as a practicing Jew and devout follower of Elohim, my own understandings are distinctly flavored by my belief system. But the Kabballah teaches that beyond even Elohim - an entity who rules Heaven that most people conceive of as the Lord who sits on a Throne - lie the greater layers of abstract, until reaching the ineffable Source. This Source is, in the greatest sense, what we truly believe to be ‘the Name’ - referred to as ‘Hashem’ - the ultimate Creator, standing outside all of time, space, and all the other dimensions even as outlined in the Kabballah, and therefore completely unknowable and indescribable by Man.

“And yet,” he continued, “this Creator is both withdrawn from His Creation while simultaneously existing throughout it and permeating the entire structure. It is a core paradox - to be both withdrawn and yet ever-present - but only when viewed from our limited minds and perceptions. Other religious systems have their own perspectives and understandings of these truths, each exploring different aspects perhaps of the greater and more deeply hidden truths. Their mystical spiritual deities also work at deeper layers then humanity does - towards the heart of the ‘machine code’ of existence as well perhaps.”

He took another swallow of his tea, which he had doctored with a rather large amount of sugar followed by a spoonful of jam.

“That…that’s a lot to think about,” I said, my head still swimming.

“Of course! It is the beginning of a lifetime’s worth of contemplations and meditations. And I do apologize if it seems a bit much, as you are right, we should refocus on what this means for you - here and now.”

“Yes, please.”

“My earlier statement about not teaching you was a literal one. For you see, as an angel your language through which to, shall we say, work your magics will likely be quite different than mine. The teachings of Kabballah that I give to select students is directed towards understanding how humanity can understand and become closer to Hashem. The entire structure is geared for human ability, human spiritual structure, and yes human language. Of course, we believe our structure is a mirror of Hashem’s - being created in His image, as it were. But the mapping and techniques as developed for man’s use is likely not perfectly suited to an angelic being who was designed to fulfill her purpose directly and instinctively. The abstract mappings should apply, but the specific practices may not and therefore could lead you in wrong directions.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t hide my disappointment and sank deeper into my chair.

“Fret not, this just means we will need to assign you independent study - with me attempting, as unworthy as I may be, to guide you along practical exercises through which you can discover your own methodologies. Already, it seems, you have naturally been able to do things which would take trained practitioners years to accomplish.”

“I don’t know about that - I’ve seen others do some pretty incredible things.” Visions of Danielle and her snow storms certainly came to mind - or the girl in the hallway just now.

He laughed lightly. “Well, that may be par for the course, especially here at Whateley. But let me see if I can give you an example.” He pointed over my head. “On the far wall there is a Star of David. Could you describe it to me?”

Shrugging, I turned around to look - and sure enough high on the wall above his samovar was a silver plaque upon which a six-pointed Star of David had been inscribed. Staring at it, I noted that in four of the corners of its triangles there were etched Hebrew letters. The more I stared at the letters, the more they seemed to stand out until to my surprise they began to glow with a bluish-white light to my sight.

I relayed this to the rabbi, my attention still captured by the four singular letters.

“My point exactly,” he said with satisfaction.

I turned around to look at him in confusion. “What?”

He nodded over my head again at the Star. “To a normal person who wandered in here, they would have only seen the star and not the inscribed Tetragrammaton - the Name of the Lord - written upon it. For most practitioners it takes years of meditation and mental discipline training to allow their minds to view the Name inscribed in this way - and yet you, with no training at all, saw it perfectly and were able to gain a measure of the strength of the energies bound to them.”

I couldn’t help it, I had to look back at the Star and its glowing letters.

“And that,“ he continued, “is where you should first focus your study. Perception of energies - their flow, their manifestations, and ultimately their language as you see and understand it.”

My attention returned to my teacup. “I think I need to learn how to keep my own energy in check. Before I cause problems.”

“Perception is a necessary beginning step, Jordan. The circles we have provided in your room are there to keep you and others safe - not just for while you sleep but also for when you wish to practice drawing on and releasing your energies.”

“All three of those circles are different. I’ve wanted to ask - what are they exactly? How do they work?”

“If you can come to understand your native spiritual language, then the analysis will likely follow just by examination. As for the three - I did the innermost circle myself; its design should hold any energy you manifest within its boundaries, so that none leak outward to affect your fellow students or the staff.”

“Oh, that’s good to know. And the middle one?”

“My fellow instructors of the Mystic Arts pooled their knowledge to craft it. The video we saw of you flickering away while sleeping led us to believe you were possibly slipping towards other dimensional realms, something which I’m sure you’d agree would be nice to avoid.”

I nodded. “Uh, absolutely.” I thought of Khan possibly saving me from such a fate, and then of his glowing eyes from the morning. I decided not to mention it - maybe I just saw a reflection of my own glow? Considering I was still half asleep, I really couldn’t be sure.

The rabbi added, “Thus the second circle is designed to be an anchor point - made to hold you here and keep you from untoward travels.”

“Huh. But what about the outer circle - the one with Greek words mixed in?”

“That was done personally by Circe and we were not permitted by her to witness its creation. We asked her what it was for when she was done.” He paused to sip his tea again.

“What did she say?” I asked, as I felt the tranquility he had fostered starting to slip away.

“She called it a ‘failsafe’ and left it at that.” He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.

Uh, I didn’t like the sound of that. What if she’d put some kind of magic bomb in my room that she could trigger if I got out of hand somehow? I had better figure out this whole spiritual language thing quick - if for no other reason than to determine if I was sleeping over a mystical nuke of some kind. Though wouldn’t the other teachers have tried to figure out what it was too? You know, more than just asking?

They’d warn me about it if it was actually a bomb, right? Or raise objections to it? Ah hell. What if they wanted it to be vague to ‘encourage’ me to study harder? Ugh. That kind of Sword of Damocles motivation for a student to learn faster is truly unfair.

Effective, but unfair. Dammit.

 

Chapter Fifteen - Placement

 

After leaving my head spinning with thoughts of magical languages and spiritual agents of an all-encompassing God, Rabbi Immanuel Kirov switched to more mundane topics.

Like what the heck I should take for classes in the upcoming Fall Quarter.

For the few faculty that knew my true history - as opposed to the fake transcripts generated by Immanuel’s brother Gregory - they felt that me trying to take ‘normal’ high school level courses might compromise my cover story even worse than if I was just placed into higher curricula based on where I would properly fit academically. They suggested a focus on topics I needed now: magic and powers theory, mythological history, and martial arts or survival training. If I was put into regular junior Math, for example, other students would wonder what the heck I was doing there since I knew Calculus. They had a point. Even if I tried to fake ignorance, I’d eventually slip up - out of sheer overwhelming boredom, if nothing else.

Thing is, they wanted to know more precisely where I stood in academics considering it had been twenty years since I’d attended college. I think the faculty just wasn’t comfortable having a student they hadn’t fully evaluated scholastically and so I was informed that over the next few days I was to be given a set of placement tests that were to run the gamut from Mathematics, Physics, English, History, Computer Science, and even Chemistry and Biology.

Which meant that they were going to give me exams throughout the weekend. Granted my sense of what day of the week it was had been utterly scrambled by events, but still. Weekends should be sacred - an opinion formed by having spent too many of them working crazy overtime hours due to unrealistic deadlines at work.

I explained to the rabbi that they could skip Chemistry and Biology as I hadn’t touched those since my previous high school and had promptly forgotten all of it as soon as I graduated. He reminded me that with an Exemplar level such as I now exhibited, I might be surprised at how much I could remember and apply if I actually tried.

So much for getting out of those two. Meh. I hadn’t enjoyed those subjects then, and didn’t expect to now either.

He told me to report to a room on the second floor of Kane Hall in the morning at nine a.m. whereupon various instructors would begin the onslaught of examinations. I hoped it had good air-conditioning, unlike the gym where my high school had always held its final exams for everyone at the end of June. Large portable fans just don’t cut it against the summer Los Angeles heat, especially when being added to a room crammed full of anxious teenage boys fearing whatever they may have missed in their crammed reviews. In fact those fans had a demonstrated nasty habit of blowing exam papers off the folding tables, all accompanied by loud cries of dismay from their hapless targets while teachers madly scrambled to try and sort the papers out to prevent any student from accidentally seeing the exam answers of another.

Fun, right?

Anyway, he also told me to report today at one p.m. to Laird Hall for a class scheduled at that time. He said that the head of the Academy’s Martial Arts - a Sensei Ito - wished to evaluate my previous training personally. I had told Gregory back at the DPA that I had taken Kenpo Karate for five years starting when I was twelve, and thus some of that experience had been incorporated into my fake history as Jordan. Again I was way out of practice, but I probably could remember some of it. And apparently I was going to find out in less than a couple hours - I hoped I wouldn’t embarrass myself too badly.

With that the rabbi sent me on my way with a casual wave of a hand. His eyes kept drawing back to the book on his desk more and more while we had discussed classes and schedules. I noticed that with the conversation no longer being about metaphysical and mystical topics, his focus and attention had drifted away - even to the point of skipping over verbalizing sentences, assuming that somehow I had heard it anyway.

If it wasn’t for his aura of compassion preventing any belief of him doing this deliberately, I would have been annoyed. Instead it was kind of endearing in its own way, even if frustrating.

I still had a ton of questions - like what did Soren do in his ritual to cause me to ‘awaken’, how many others like me might there be out there, or even which specific angel was I anyway? But it was clear I’d have to wait on those until I had a better grasp perhaps of what I was in general before trying to answer precisely who.

Remembering that the cafeteria had a clock I could use to monitor the time until my next appointment, I made my way back to Crystal Hall. This time I stayed on paved walkways, even if such a course was not as optimal. The rain had lightened, although the clouds that hovered over the western forest looked darker than what currently drifted above. Heavier rain was likely incoming.

Once inside I still felt envious of the magic Lauren had applied to get me dry earlier. Definitely seemed more useful than being a human flashlight in any case - after all most people’s phones these days could act as one anyway. I wasn’t totally soaked, but yeah - still damp.

Overwhelmed again by the number of menu choices offered, I settled just for something simple: tuna salad sandwich, potato chips, and water. Kicking the habit of drinking soda in my twenties had not been fun - I had developed a rather nasty addiction, and when coding like a fiend for work I had consumed darn near a twelve-pack per day. The thought of needing to go through withdrawal again someday was not appealing, so yep - water or (unsweetened) tea only please!

Leland spotted me as I walked off the line carrying my tray, and he waved me over to his table. Today he was wearing his full school uniform to go along with his uber-glasses and earplugs. I could tell as I put my tray down on the table that the clothes made him uncomfortable, as any movement making the fabric slip against his skin caused him to wince.

As I lowered myself down to sit I asked, “Hey Leland, you hanging in…” I never finished my question.

The plastic and metal chair I had pulled out collapsed into pieces under me, and I landed with a loud thud right on my ass.

There was a stunned silence in the Hall around me, followed by laughter and applause from the few summer students who were there.

I couldn’t help it. Between this, being soaked to the bone from the rain earlier and my ankle twisting, not to mention the insanities discussed with the rabbi, I had to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Hopping to my feet I proclaimed, “Thank you everyone! For my next trick I shall try to simply hover in the air to eat lunch - who knows, maybe the air will be more successful at holding my butt up than this poor chair!”

That got some additional laughter (and even a whistle). The kids then went back to their conversations and food, except for some of the guys who were still trying to get a good look at my posterior - I’m sure purely for scientific reasons regarding weight ratios and chair structure calculations.

I couldn’t blame them - I stared at the bottoms of pretty girls when I was their age too, are you kidding?

Leland, though, was not laughing and looked concerned. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, really,” I said as I gathered up the remains of the chair so I could dispose of them in one of the nearby trash bins. When I got back over to Leland I grinned and pulled the next chair out with a flourish. “Shall we see if my trick can be repeated? Whatcha think, even odds? Want to place a bet?”

He finally laughed. “No thanks. I wouldn’t want you to blame me if it happened again.”

“Darn, there goes my entire master plan.” I carefully lowered myself onto the next chair, easing my weight on it. Just in case.

This one thankfully held, and thus I could begin my feast.

Leland pushed aside his mostly empty bowl of bland oats before idly tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Dunno why I went to class today. I could have had them just deliver the food, stayed inside, and been comfortable. Screw these uniforms, they freaking chafe.”

I glanced towards the windows. “What? Stay inside? And miss this lovely summer shower?”

He snorted. “You mean the wet ball bearings that fall from the sky? Yeah, screw them too.”

Taking a sample bite of my sandwich, I shook my head in sympathy. “What class did you have?”

“One on meditation techniques. They’re supposed to help.” He grinned ruefully and added, “but some days I’m just too grumpy to ‘let go’, ‘still my mind’, and all that.”

“Maybe they should let you practice it all mystic-style - you know, naked under a waterfall except without the waterfall.”

“Oh the teacher would looove that,” he laughed. “Though obviously it would be an excellent challenge for all the girls in the class - as I am rather distracting” He struck a weight-lifter’s biceps pose to emphasize, and to keep his better mood going I whistled and applauded.

That seemed to cheer him up at least a little. “What about you?” he asked, right as I took another larger bite.

“Mmmpph.” I made a show of chewing and swallowing, holding up one hand as the other grabbed my glass so I could wash it all down. “Had to see my adviser this morning. Rabbi Kirov.”

“Huh. I haven’t had him before. He any good?”

“Well, obviously neither have I, so I’d have to answer with ‘no idea!’” I stuck my tongue out at him.

He smiled. “So what classes he load you with?”

“I don’t know that yet either. They want to put me through the wringer with placement exams first. They seem to think that manifesting as an Exemplar might bump my levels or something.”

“Yeah, they might. There are some crazy-smart Exemplars here. Doing college-level research and stuff.”

He readjusted himself on his chair so it wasn’t pushing against his back. I took a few more bites of my tuna and had to stop myself from offering him some of the chips. A thought occurred to me and I asked, “Hey Leland?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the deal with Tamara - you know, ‘Sigil’ - anyway? She was pretty mad last night when she stormed off over the whole codename issue. Thing is, after that research last night? She might have a valid point.”

“Tamara? Hmm.” He thought for a moment. “Her mother really is a big-shot with the witches from what I understand, and Sigil has always proudly proclaimed that she was rated Wizard level four in her eval. She’s learned a lot this past year as a sophomore too: rumors are that she might skip to the more advanced magic classes. But that could depend on how she does this summer.”

“Oh? How so?”

He shrugged. “She failed math last term. She was supposed to go to some huge solstice festival and gathering in England with her mom, but instead was stuck here taking algebra with trig all over again. She’d been looking forward to that trip all year, telling everyone about it and how it was a big deal that only happened every five years. And then ‘poof’, no trip fo’ yoo.”

To me a lost trip with family would be a bummer, but to a young girl? That could be devastating - especially if she had any kind of hero-complex with regards to her mother. Being stuck away at a boarding school for the rest of the year would make that even worse. “So she’s not usually unreasonable? Do you think I could go talk with her, and work things out?”

He looked even more uncomfortable, beyond just from the clothes that were overloading his skin. “Not a good idea.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, Jordan - with all her friends off having fun and her own hopes for seeing her mom flushed, she’s been really bitchy all summer. She started hanging with Fields - the girl she was with last night - when classes started, and been giving the cold shoulder to everyone else since.” He paused. “Not that she’s ever been overly friendly to us Thornies - but she’s never called us ‘freaks’ before, least not to my face like that anyway.”

“Huh.”

“You really want to change your codename, though? I think ‘Aradia’ is a cool name.”

That got me to smile. “Thanks, Sense. But I really didn’t know the history of it before taking the name - and with the way things are heading, I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me. Not with the whole Goddess and anti-Christian connotations anyway.”

“Eh screw that. I saw how you lit up last night, that was pretty awesome. Looked ‘radiant’ to me. Besides, if you were to change it now everyone would think you were just giving in to Tamara.” He made a face. “And I hate to say it, but Whateley isn’t a good place for people to think they can walk all over you. Because some have powers to do just that - and it ain’t fun.”

I had a feeling he was speaking from personal experience. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I hope to avoid. I was thinking if I could talk to her-”

He cut me off. “Doubtful. Maybe try when her usual friends get back in a couple weeks. Some of them are fairly reasonable and could possibly help you out if approached the right way.”

“And Fields isn’t one of those?”

“No way.” He picked up a spoon and pushed some of his uneaten oatmeal around the bowl. “Erica, I mean Fields, is scary.”

“She is? How so?”

“She’s some kind of techno-mage, blending magic with computers. Got her name from being able to manipulate both magical and electro-magnetic field-lines or something like that. A guy last year beat her at a straight hackathon challenge - no magic allowed. Then a few days later after the contest his dad got audited by the IRS. They repossessed like all his family’s assets. Peter won’t be back this year - his folks can no longer afford the tuition. I even heard his dad may face jail time.”

“But how is Fields responsible for that?”

“Because she told him. After she lost, she told him she would show him what a true hacker could do. Didn’t take her long, either.”

“Damn.” Okay, I’ll admit it - that WAS scary.

“Yeah. Best to leave her alone, in my opinion.”

“Thanks for the heads-up. Guess I’ll just have to let things lie for a few weeks at least.”

He nodded. “Sure thing. Hey, I think I’m gonna go back to my room and spend some time in the tank. It’s getting to be a bit too much out here. You mind?”

“Of course not.” I paused. “Wait, a tank?”

He stood. “Yeah - they put a sensory deprivation tank in my room. Soundproofing on the walls, water and numbing gel tank to float in, and no windows. Only way I can really sleep.”

“Wow. Take care, Leland. Don’t worry about your tray - I’ll bus it for you when I’m done.”

“Thanks. See ya later.”

He headed out through the doors and into the rain. By the way he was walking it was obvious that the pants and shirt really were bothering him, especially as they slid around when he moved. But he, at least, was smart enough to have an umbrella.

In that regard he was certainly smarter than me.

I finished everything off my plate and sat back to consider things. Rabbi Immanuel didn’t want to teach me his precise ways of magic, which obviously were based on his understandings of his Kabballah system. Yet Soren had sent me a book on learning Hebrew and another written by another rabbi on the topic. He obviously thought these were things I should know. If Immanuel’s concern was me limiting myself by becoming religiously focused on his way of doing things, he really shouldn’t have worried. That wasn’t my style.

I’d always been an independent thinker - trying to take in as many opinions and viewpoints as possible and then making up my own mind as to what I wanted to believe. Which is probably why I had done better as a software engineer when being forced to wing it, as it were. I’d research the topic at hand and in the end come up with my own designs and ways of solving the problems instead of just copying and pasting whatever I found out there.

Any software engineer who can’t learn on the fly and can only regurgitate stuff from a book or a lecture won’t make it very far. At least, that had been the experience with my own work and with watching others succeed or fail depending on how good they were at quick adaptation and logical improvisation. Oh sure, the language usage is strict and completely defined - but the structures one can build with it are open-ended. Some designs are flexible and allow easy modifications later on, and others nail your feet to the floor and refuse any enhancements or new functionality whatsoever without it being an utter mess.

I wondered if the same would be true with all the magic stuff. After all, isn’t magic the practice to manipulate energy in patterns, and then build on those patterns to do larger and larger things? The rabbi’s metaphor really might be apt, even if the talent focus could shift to be more on the art of the design than the smaller logical structures from which it all got constructed. There really was an art to holding a software architecture in one’s mind, in letting the minute details be put aside while contemplating the whole. Some folks were really good at it (much better than me, I’ll admit), whereas there were those who truly sucked at it.

So maybe magic and software at the higher abstractions worked the same way. In which case it raised the question of whether my being an angel had influenced my abilities and therefore led me into software for a career. Would the experience translate?

Guess I would find out.

But I also thought back at what I had done at the DPA - shouting words I couldn’t even remember, and performing energetic feats that afterward I had no clue how to even attempt. The rabbi had mentioned something about doing things instinctively. I remembered an old college physics lecture that described all the calculations required to figure out where a baseball would actually end up when thrown - including all the rotations and air resistance, heck he even tossed in the Coriolis Effect just for fun. It was a crazy mess of variables.

And then he blew our minds by reminding us that the catcher figures it all out subconsciously within seconds and is able to catch the ball. Evolution and experience had hard-wired the necessary abilities for prediction and tracking and thus children could play catch with their parents without needing to solve differential equations.

Was being an angel also a bit like that?

Plus those words I spoke to blow up the wall and tear down Diego’s shields - every time I tried to remember what I had said the memory slipped away. The rabbi had talked of language as metaphor - but also said words have power. If I instinctively could use some angelic language, why couldn’t I remember or even focus on it now? It was so very frustrating.

Checking the cafeteria clock again, I saw I still had a good fifteen minutes to get to the martial arts class. Putting aside the topics my mind wanted to obsess upon, I tried instead to remember my karate lessons -what I had learned of the forms, punches, kicks, and all that. My muscle memory would likely be slow and awkward given my new center of gravity and flexibility, but not much I could do about that in fifteen minutes.

Speaking of slow - while rummaging down memory lane I also kept an eye on the second hand of the cafeteria’s clock (it was an old fashioned analog display) while it rotated its way around the rest of the circle. It seemed to be somewhat off; I counted seconds in my mind for what I thought a second should take, and to my dismay the clock’s reported duration was about three times slower than the timing of my own.

I called out to a kid at the nearest table who had been staring at his phone - a boy who had popped up the collar on his Whateley uniform shirt in a preppy-slash-vampire look. He certainly had the widow’s peak for the vampire part anyway.

“Hey, what time is it? I think the clock is messed up.” I pointed at the wall.

He glanced down at his phone. “It’s ten past one. Yeah, someone must have jinxed the cafeteria’s clock again.”

“Ten past? Shit!”

I was going to have to run full tilt through the rain again - and I’d be late anyway.

Ever just have one of those days?

 

~o~O~o~

 

Laird hall looked a lot like some of the older buildings at my previous college campus, especially the science halls. In other words, it resembled more a squatting fortress than a place of learning. I was drenched yet again after making it inside - those darker clouds I had spotted had zipped overhead while I was eating and begun dumping non-stop buckets. I had to ask for directions to find my way to the martial arts gymnasium area as I hadn’t seen any signs showing where to go.

Have I mentioned that I truly despise being late? I dislike it when other people aren’t on time, and I apply that doubly to myself.

Entering the gym, there were two students on the center mat facing off in different stance styles. The weird thing is my vision of them was slightly distorted - there was some kind of forcefield in the air between the mat and the rest of the handful of students watching them.

Within that field also stood a short Japanese man - who despite the obvious weathering of the wrinkles on his face clearly looked like a man not only in charge, but also fully capable of defeating anyone who dared the insult of offering him challenge. He had that aura of total confidence that only true mastery can bestow.

He obviously noticed me enter but deliberately ignored my presence. Moving closer to the line of students, all dressed in standard martial arts gis, I knelt beside a girl on one end. She was a good half a foot taller than I was, and looked to be in great shape - at least from what little I could see from the side. She may even have been more busty than I was, proportionally speaking. Oh, and she had long blonde hair which curved down to cover part of her face in a fashion more appropriate to Hollywood than a martial arts mat. I wondered if she’d pull it back into a ponytail before sparring with someone.

After watching the intensely focused instructor again, I took a closer look at the two fighting students. To my surprise one of them was Brendan - a.k.a. Tank. He absolutely towered over his opponent, a slender yet very fit young Asian man - possibly Chinese. I’m no expert really, but his face had more of a Bruce Lee look so I decided to run with that (quietly) until or unless proven otherwise.

They circled around each other cautiously, and then Tank launched forward with an incredibly fast spinning kick that I could tell he was going to follow up with a punch or two even if the kick didn’t land. His motion was controlled and speedy, but somewhat obvious.

I wasn’t the only one who thought so either. The smaller guy pivoted sideways before grabbing Tank’s rather long leg between two hands to spin Tank around in a continuation of the original circle. Tank reacted instinctively and tried to pull his leg free, but the smaller guy let the motion bring them closer, and with a quick foot placement Tank’s other leg was swept clear of the mat.

He went down with a forceful whump felt through the floor I knelt upon.

Not letting any momentum go to waste, the Chinese boy didn’t stop the sweep of his own leg and instead continued around in a tighter and faster circle to land a heel right into Tank’s temple.

That was full force contact. Holy shit, that could kill a person! I started to rise in alarm, but I was stopped by the girl next to me who had put a strong hand on my arm.

“Relax, he’s fine,” she said under her breath.

“Yame!” The instructor barked and the smaller and faster guy backed away from Tank. The weird distortion field around the mat also disappeared when the instructor had given the command to stop.

To my amazement Tank had already started to push himself up from the mat, a look of annoyance on his face. He was mad at himself for being taken down but otherwise was fine.

He didn’t even have a mark on his face from the kick.

I settled back down, noticing that no one else had shoes on. Oops. I quickly began to remove mine along with the socks.

The instructor, who must have been Sensei Ito since he was the only instructor in here as far as I could tell, motioned that their match was over. Tank and the other guy faced each other, bowed, turned and bowed to the Sensei, then walked off the mat together. Tank, shaking his head at himself, reached out and offered a fist bump to his opponent who with a wide grin accepted.

They both resumed kneeling positions along the line of students. That’s when I realized the sensei was staring daggers in my direction.

“Ms. Emrys.” He said my name, not as a greeting but rather as a command. He pointed to the mat before him.

“Yes, sir.” I rose to my now bare (just in time!) feet, walked to the edge and did the double fisted bow to the dojo mat as I had been taught many years ago before crossing such a threshold. I moved to stand in front of the sensei then bowed deeply to him as well.

“You are late.” Three words conveyed a level of disapproval and disappointment that I justly deserved.

“Yes, sir. I would offer an explanation, but regardless I failed in my responsibility to be on time. I apologize, and can only promise to put forth my best efforts to not let it happen again.” I bowed low to him again, this time holding the bow to await his judgment.

“Hmph.”

I didn’t move, holding the position. After a few rather long seconds he grunted again, gesturing for me to stand up. I did so, not saying anything more.

“Your transcript shows you have some training?” He made it a question and not a statement, so I answered.

“Yes, sir. Although it’s been…” I almost said it had been over twenty years, but whew, I caught myself in time. “It’s been awhile, sir.”

“Understand that any belt-ranking you once possessed has no bearing within our dojo.” This was indeed a firm statement. I just nodded my head and did not comment.

Without looking away from me he called out, “Jenna.” The girl I had knelt next to jumped to her feet, paused, and then removed the blonde hair completely from her head before handing it to the girl to her right.

It was a wig. Her head was actually perfectly clean-shaven.

I almost stumbled where I stood on the mat as my mind flashed to how Caroline had looked during her chemotherapy, the memory perfectly vivid - and full of all the emotions of the time. Jenna was younger, but other than age and height they looked so very similar, and a lump of sorrow formed in my throat.

Unfortunately, Jenna saw my reaction and assumed it was one of horror. Her hands formed tighter fists as she crossed the mat to stand opposite me, bowing to the sensei before turning her new glare in my direction.

Oh damn. And I couldn’t explain - not here, not in front of everyone, not with a sensei commanding his class.

“Jenna, Jordan, you shall spar. No powers. When I say yame, you stop, clear?” He was looking at me.

I nodded. “Yes, sir. Rules of contact, sir?” I had sparred without pads when I was young, but that usually meant no headshots. And I wasn’t wearing a protective cup. Err, huh. Do girls need those too?

“I understand you are a regenerator. Full contact, but no killing blows.”

No killing blows. Holy shit, that needed to be specified?

I turned to Jenna, and bowed low - trying to show my respect and make up for her bad first impression. She bowed perfunctorily but her expression was clear: she was pissed.

“Hajime!” Sensei Ito barked, and it was on.

I expected Jenna to charge in, but she was smarter than that - much to her credit. I was an unknown, just as she was to me. So we began circling around each other, her stance similar to mine: balanced between the feet and turned sideways from the opponent with one hand raised in guard, the other held lower ready to strike.

When she saw I wasn’t going to make the first move she went ahead and got it started.

Now you have to realize that when I was a teen I had been really solid. I lifted weights daily at school, and trained at the dojo at least twice a week. My power had been mainly in my legs, which was different from most of the other guys who relied on the strength of their punches. Me, I relied on my kicks and also on the tree-like solidity of my legs to keep me grounded and balanced. Sure I was able to punch decently, but not with the same level of force as the other guys. I did, however, have speed.

It’s just the way I had been built as a guy - shorter and very thick legs with a taller torso. It forced a certain pattern to how I fought.

She came at me with a flurry of kicks that I began to block one by one - absorbing and redirecting the power of her legs while remaining steady within my own stance. Her height advantage extended her range and she tried to make use of that with her kicks - likely hoping to knock me off balance so she could move in and take me down.

She was quite strong too. But as I slipped sideways and blocked her feet with my forearms, I realized something. I was now a lot stronger than I had been - and that very much included my arms. Certainly I was having no trouble putting my old training to use - I was finding my movements to be fluid, faster, and much more precise than I had ever experienced even at the height of my previous conditioning.

Clearly she also was an Exemplar, but as I kept deflecting her blows with relative ease we both came to realize that my own rating might be higher.

I decided to test that theory.

Feeling lighter on my toes than ever I had before, I moved faster, sliding along the mat with my feet as I kept shifting my stances and angle to her, dancing side to side, looking for her to over-extend. She tried to back off, but I pressed forward so she couldn’t re-stabilize and counter.

I started throwing kicks of my own, cautiously at first as I didn’t want to get taken down by a leg-grab, but just to gauge my speed and her reaction time.

She almost caught one but I yanked it back before her grip could solidify, shifting so that I could grab at her arm instead, planting my foot firmly back on the mat. As I pulled her forward I used my other leg to deliver a knife-kick behind her knee.

I was careful. I didn’t want to shatter the knee, regardless of the ‘full contact’ stipend of the match. So I pulled the kick and aimed it to land squarely behind the knee instead of sideways where it would have popped badly. I’d seen that happen once, and it’s never pretty.

What I did instead would still hurt though, as her leg folded and caused her to fall - bringing her head into range of a fast forearm slam to the side of her face.

No, I didn’t aim for her temple either. The sensei may trust in her regeneration, but I didn’t know her. And what if he was testing to see how ruthless I could be if let loose in full?

The impact stunned her and she fell the rest of the way to the mat. I had started to back up before the sensei shouted, “Yame!”

I resumed my position where we had started the match, and watched as Jenna shook her head clear and stood up. There was a small mark on her face from where I had struck, and as I watched it slowly faded away while she crossed back to her position.

Good. That would have been a nasty welt lasting days on a normal kid.

Sensei Ito studied us both for what seemed like ages. Then he said, “Again. This time, use powers. This hall is off limits to visitors today.”

Jenna’s face broke into a feral grin.

“Uh, Sensei,” I said hesitantly. “That could be a problem for magic users near me from what I understand.”

He gestured to the force field that surrounded us. “Your energies should be contained. Neither Jenna nor myself make use of the mystic arts.”

Uh…oh.

Jenna closed her eyes as her skin began to ripple and change color. A dark smooth greyness appeared and spread over her hands, face, and feet. I could only assume it was covering everything else under her gi.

Oh man, her skin was turning to stone.

I swallowed nervously, but realized this is why I was here. Trial by fire or in this case, trial by stone. Let’s see what I could do.

Inwardly I reached for the mental faucet wedged in the ever-present column in the back of my mind’s eye. I threw it open, and saw Jenna’s expression of glee falter as my light flooded the gym.

A few of the students watching even put their hands up to cover their eyes from the glare.

“Hajime!” Ito commanded.

Jenna must have been worried about how much further I could power up if given more time because she lowered a shoulder and charged.

I managed to barely sidestep clear, launching my own kick at her side as she went past. I connected but I don’t think she even felt it through the armor now covering everything but her eyes, nostrils, mouth - you get the idea.

She changed tactics again. Ignoring my blows entirely, she tried instead to get close and go for a bear hug with main strength. I realized her stone-form probably increased her physical limits too. Yikes.

Frustrated at my sudden ineffectiveness, I struggled and broke the holds she kept trying to get me in. I was clearly still faster, but that didn’t matter if she never felt the effects of anything I did. Even direct blows to her legs felt like I was kicking a mountainside. They didn’t budge.

She managed to wrap arms around me when I got too close, her height giving her that reach advantage. Trying to push against her was failing - she seemed to be getting stronger with each passing moment. Only by wedging my left elbow into her chest did I prevent her from crushing me flat. She locked her hands together at the small of my back and started to lift me off the ground.

This was not good.

My right arm was still free and held in the gap between us; I saw only one possible move before she popped me like a water balloon. Pulling even more of that raw and brilliant energy into my body, I shoved it into my right fist and with a yell launched an uppercut that landed squarely under her jaw, causing an explosion of brilliant light that should have blinded me but somehow didn’t.

Her skin’s rock protection fragmented along fractal lines running outward from her chin, causing large stony flakes to fall free revealing normal skin underneath.

From the impact, I felt bone crunch and fold in. I think I shattered most of her jaw.

As her arms released me, I noted in my peripheral vision the force field surrounding us had flared into a shower of blue sparks. It was collapsing, all the sparks falling to the floor leaving empty air.

I hesitated - trying to find the sensei to see if he’d stop the match now that the field was clearly gone. Should I power down?

This was a horrible mistake. Jenna hadn’t noticed the loss of the field. With a fierce rage she stepped backwards - before whipping around with a mighty spinning sidekick right into my stomach. Her movement was insanely fast - a blur of gray stone and white gi. I’m not sure I could have blocked her foot even had I time to react and try. I felt ribs crack from the tremendous impact before I was launched in the air across the mat like a rocket.

Right into the brick and concrete of the gym’s outer wall. But I didn’t stop - I was going so fast and so hard I punched through it all into the rain outside.

New pain spread widely over my back as I arched through the air in a stream of white light. I even had a wonderfully clear view of the American flag as it flapped in the wind above Schuster Hall. Below it still dangled the red banner.

Oh shit.

A living flaming meteor impacting the campus was likely not permitted on a red flag day.

It all happened so fast, and I didn’t have time to think about it. I just jammed shut the channel inside to try and lock down my inner light, attempting to curl into as tight a ball as I could. This was going to hurt.

Slamming into the wet lawn I tumbled badly anyway, arms and legs gouging out a rather long trench before finally coming to a stop with my back about a foot deep in the muddy soil. If it hadn’t been raining all day, the impact probably would have been worse.

After sliding to a stop, I did manage to suck in some air - but wow did that hurt too.

My right arm felt broken, along with my left leg. As for the ribs of my chest and back, they at least weren’t all jello so shall we call that a win?

People were shouting nearby and they scrambled over to me, calling for others to get help from Doyle - which I remembered was the name of the medical complex.

I wanted rather badly to reach for the light to stop the pain blossoming through my body, but I didn’t. Compared to what I had felt getting Danielle out of that damn storage unit this was like a love tap. Albeit one delivered by a thousand pound gorilla who had been abusing steroids for years. Or, you know, a six foot six girl enhanced by granite skin and a Red Bull can of rage and whoop-ass.

Did I mention it hurt?

Opening one eye from where I lay, I found I now had a pretty good view of the hole in the side of Laird Hall that Jenna’s kick had created by using me as a sledgehammer. Sensei Ito stood at the hole staring back at me.

The old man gave me a nod.

At his side was Jenna. Her stone skin was gone and a deep bruise covered the bottom of her jaw. Her face was pale white and she looked horrified.

I may have taken some satisfaction that at least I’d marked her. Could anyone blame me?

The medic squad on campus was certainly fast. After putting my neck in a brace, they got me on their flat board and double-timed it into the medical building. A few bounces did cause me to whimper; I couldn’t help it.

I tried to tell them to just get me out of sight of any visitors, but all I managed was a groan.

Fortunately a female doctor in their E.R. had already pulled up Whateley’s records of my abilities. Realizing what they meant she ran to my side, saying quietly into an ear, “If we get you into a secure room, can you heal? There are congressmen touring the building.”

Somehow I nodded. She waved away the nurse who was preparing to give me an I.V. before personally wheeling me down a hall and into an empty exam room. She shouted some instructions at others in the hallway before closing the door - what she said I didn’t hear. When the door was completely shut she said more loudly, “Okay, this should be safe. Do it, hon. This is a warded room - it should hold, if not I’ll yell.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I reopened that internal channel, and poured all the light I could picture in my mind throughout my body.

Did you know that bones make snapping sounds when they pop back into place due to magic? Well, let me assure you they do - even if it may not have been easily heard over the loudness generated by the girl screaming from the sudden surge in pain levels. The energy rushing through me did sooth the agonies instantly after, but the intense spikes as things clicked back together were a bitch.

All in all, I think it took about fifteen minutes for the last vestiges of pain to slip slowly away. I was pretty sure that most of the damage would not have happened if I’d kept my energy up for the impact on landing, but that’s the way the angel cookie crumbled. When done healing, I was panting for breath and felt utterly exhausted.

The female doctor (I didn’t get her name) kept watch over me. She had even put on a pair of sunglasses so she could examine my progress through the light show in more detail. Don’t ask me where she got them from because I have no idea.

When I was finally breathing easy and had let the shine slip away, the door opened. Sensei Ito and Jenna stepped inside, letting the door close behind them. Jenna was wearing her blonde wig again.

I propped myself up on my elbows as I was still on the gurney, but I had no idea what to say.

Jenna spoke first after a nod from the sensei. She came to my side and gently took my hand. “I’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?”

I smiled wearily. “Yeah. I have to be powered up to heal, but didn’t want to do that out in the open.”

Sensei Ito grunted - maybe with some approval. Hard to tell.

Her relief was immediate, and I saw a tremendous tension ease across her shoulders. “Thank god. I’ve never hit anyone that hard before. That was way stronger than I’ve ever been able to do.” Behind her relief I could see a bit of awe, and she let go of my hand to stare at her own. She flexed into a fist, then opened her fingers again. “What happened?”

I looked at Ito, having already put together an idea. “I did give warning about me powering up.”

He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. “I must give a report to the administration of this. They may have further questions. You are fully healed?”

Looking down at my arms and legs, I moved them all. “Yeah. Just hungry again and really tired.”

He paused to glare at me with eyes of judgment. “Becoming distracted - no matter the cause - can and will be deadly. If that had been a real battle, your loss of focus could have cost your life. You would do well to remember this lesson. No more practice today.” With a curt nod, the man exited the room.

I couldn’t help it; I chuckled after the door closed. “No more practice today? Ya think?”

Jenna looked down at me but she wasn’t laughing. “If Sensei Ito thought you were up for it, he’d have you back on the mat right now. Me too, but you really clobbered my chin and it’ll take another hour for the bone to fully knit itself and he knows this. Everyone else is stuck doing drills right now until he gets back.”

She was serious. I stared at the door that Ito had just stepped through, not sure how I felt about that.

“What happened?” she asked again. “You and sensei seem to know, but I don’t. How could I have hit you that hard? Was that me or…was that you?”

“Most likely the latter.” I pulled myself up so I could sit cross-legged on the gurney. The back of my Alice t-shirt was shredded into strips of flapping stained cloth, and the rear strap of the bra I got from the box store had also been pulverized. My jeans shorts were a muddy mess, but seemed otherwise okay - just sporting a more distressed look. But hey, that’s fashionable, right? As for my poor t-shirt, I guess Alice and I both hit the bottom at the same time.

I failed to suppress a hysterical giggle. They also hadn’t brought me my shoes and socks from the gym - and for some reason I found that very funny. My toes were gonna get really muddy again.

Jenna stared at me. “Are you in shock or something? Should I get someone?”

I shook my head. “No, no I think I’m okay - it’s just been a day. A really messed up day.”

She looked dubious.

“My powers,” I said, which got her attention away from the idea of calling the psych squad. “I can tap into a lot of energy. When I do, I seem to emit it and the effects on users of magic have been kinda extreme. There’s concern that I could overload them if their capacities are too low, which would be harmful.”

“But I’m not a magic user. I’m a manifestor. I do the stone-skin thing, and get stronger. But nowhere near that strong.”

“Yeah. I think we just found out the energy I’m channeling affects more than magic.”

“Why? What kind of energy is it? Other than being blindingly bright.”

Do I tell her? Should I? Considering I just gave her the power to kick a classmate through a wall, I felt I owed her the truth.

“It’s angelic energy.”

“Oh, cool. You an avatar? Think that got mentioned in Powers class.”

“They don’t think so.”

“So holy rolling shaman or something?”

“Nope.” I smiled at her, knowing I was being difficult.

She smiled back. “You going to explain, or do I need to give you another beat-down?”

I laughed. “Sorry. And please, not again - at least not today.” I paused, and took a deep breath. “They say I’m an angel. Like an actual angel, incarnate somehow here on Earth.”

She looked at me carefully, trying to see if I was joking with her. But I wasn’t.

“Huh. Well, that’s different. You said you were hungry? I’m always starved after going all stone-skin. May have to get something soft, though, with what you did to my jaw. Like ice cream! Mmm, chocolate…”

I’d only been on campus for just under twenty-four hours and I was beginning to suspect that Whateley really was not like anywhere else on the planet. You can tell someone you’re an angel and all they do is shrug before debating what flavor of ice cream they wanted.

Admittedly, ice cream did sound rather tempting.

 

 

Into The Light (Part 4 of 6)

by Erisian

 

 

Chapter Sixteen - Patterns

 

A nurse lent me a spare t-shirt she kept on hand ‘for emergencies’. The wreckage of my outfit qualified, and as I really didn’t want to streak across campus I quickly took it and thanked her. Speaking of clothes, Jenna and I both needed to get back to the gym before we could fulfill her ice cream desires. She needed to change out of her gi, and I needed my shoes and socks.

Arriving back at Laird Hall we discovered that Brendan had put my things aside - I think he had been hoping to use my footwear as an excuse to come visit me later. After thanking him, he again reminded me about the movie event at Emerson tomorrow night - but this time Jenna heard and declared that of course we both would attend. Brendan awkwardly affirmed that, sure, she could come too - which made her all kinds of happy.

After changing clothes, Jenna spent our entire walk to the cafeteria teasing me about how she had never seen him have such puppy eyes for anyone before. She thought he was being ‘adorable’.

The more flustered I got, the more she poured it on in an attempt to outdo the rain cascading upon us both. I’m sure my face matched the color of my hair by the time we got to the entrance.

“Do they scoop it here or is it just soft serve?” I asked, after we had let ourselves drip dry over the mats they had placed just inside the doors. Hoping to change an embarrassing and uncomfortable subject? Me? Damn right.

“Both!” she replied with exuberance. “I’m going to see if they have chocolate cheesecake today. What about you?”

Memories of college dormitory antics flickered to life so I declared, “As a former soft-serve cone tower champion, it is my duty to keep my skills sharp!”

“Oh really? Is that another challenge? I suppose the cheesecake could wait another day if you’re asking for a rematch.” She grinned.

“You know what? You’re on! Just uh…where is it?” I looked around the vast food selection aisles. How much do mutant kids eat anyway? It was late-afternoon and even with only summer students on campus over a third of the aisles were stocked overflowing with choices. Heck, they were still serving Belgian waffles even at this time of day. With strawberries, blueberries, or even cherries! All fruits freshly sliced too, nothing from cans.

Danielle was going to love this. I just hoped her new exemplar metabolism would burn off the massive influx of calories she’d probably indulge in. Maybe I should test that theory first - for science!

Jenna pointed us over to the corner with the soft serve ice cream dispenser apparatus. It had vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, and mint chocolate - otherwise known, according to her, as ‘white’, ‘red’, ‘brown’, and ‘green’ in the local parlance.

Being sportsman-like (sportswoman-like?), I let her go first.

She dropped her gym bag on the ground before cracking knuckles in preparation. Grabbing one of those old fashioned flat bottomed cones, she proceeded to painstakingly swirl chocolate onto it, building the edge walls with a proper technique and finishing it off with a dramatic spin, yielding a stack of ice cream about six inches above the cone.

“Not bad, Padawan,” I said. “But a true master does more than stack for height.”

She raised an eyebrow while taking a bite from the top of her creation. “Brave words spoken before showing proof of merit. Bring it.”

Oh I planned to.

Picking up a fresh cone, I made a show of inspecting its top ridge for imperfections before begrudgingly declaring it worthy - if barely so. This earned me a snort of laughter from my chocolate-mustachioed opponent.

Now you must understand that every soft serve machine has a different range of possible flow rates according to how its lever is operated. The width of the spout is fairly standard, but there can be variations between devices. Careful attention to detail along with applied dexterity is needed to get the required perfect circles upon which all structural integrity depends.

With a flourish I piled a good three inches of vanilla upon my cone, getting the last circle to land flush with its origin so as to be flat before stopping the flow of tasty cream-stuffs.

“I thought you said you were good at this,” she laughed. “That’s tiny.”

“Ah but you see - a single flavored entry is just too pedestrian for a champion,” I said, before carefully proceeding to add two more inches worth of chocolate - all followed by yet two more of the mint, finishing with a proper swirled spike on the top.

“You forgot the strawberry.” By now she was giggling at my exaggerated antics.

“Au contraire, not forgotten. Deliberately avoided - I hate the stuff.” I smiled while holding aloft my cone of conquest. “Do you concede?”

She was about to grant me total victory when the soft serve machine made an odd burbling sound. I had time to say, “Uh…” and turn my attention back to the dispenser when the center two nozzles burst, launching themselves forward with a greatly pressurized stream of strawberry and chocolate following immediately behind.

I got hit squarely by both nozzle pieces - right in the boobs.

Blurting a loud “Ow!” in instant pain, I then shrieked because the sticky ice cream which had splattered all over my chest was freaking ice cold. Certain newish parts of my anatomy instantly, uhm, perked up to poke under the formerly clean t-shirt in twin rebellious protests. Did I mention that my bra had failed to survive its own contest in material integrity between it and concrete? Yeah, it had totally lost and had been sent down the oubliette to join the Alice from my former t-shirt. So yes, the twin rebellions really, uh, stood out.

“Oh my god!” Jenna exclaimed with eyes wide, taking in the considerable damage. With the internal pressure completely released, both broken dispensers were now dribbling their contents upon the floor to merge with the splatter that had bounced off of, smeared all over, and made a strawberry and chocolate mess of…me.

In front of everyone.

I stood there, frozen in place both literally and metaphorically. Part of me wanted to laugh, because let’s face it: the day was beyond ridiculous. Sat on a busted chair? Check. Twisted ankle? Check. Hit on by a guy? Check. Confirming I wasn’t human? Check. Kicked through a goddamn wall and still wearing brand new shorts spotted thickly with blood stains? Check. Can’t even have ice cream in peace? Check.

Another part just wanted a corner away from everything where I could curl up and cry. Then there was the slice of rage that wanted to scream in primal fury, pull as much energy as I could from that inner source, and blow something up in spectacular apocalyptic fashion.

The strength of that last desire scared me. I stood there not moving while trying to sort out my inner confusions and failing utterly.

“Jordan?” Jenna leaned sideways so she could see my face. “You alright?”

My eyes moved to look at her. I don’t know what she saw in them, but she flinched.

“Whoa. Jordan…you need to come with me - let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

She gently removed the should-have-been-victorious ice cream cone from my hand and placed it on the serving tray ledge that ran around everything. Cafeteria staff (and other students) were, much like me, still stunned and just staring at the two of us. Yeah, no, they were all just staring at me and my frozen milk-product splattered, yet embarrassingly perky, boobs.

I may have let out a pathetically quiet whimper.

“This way now, everything will be fine…” Throwing her gym bag’s strap over one of her shoulders, she took my hand and pulled me away from the creamy wreckage leading me to yet another girl’s room. Once inside she made me raise my arms so she could remove my (the nurse’s) shirt before handing me paper towels with which to dry myself off. All the while I stayed quiet, my mind replaying the day.

I began to detect a pattern to the day’s events, one that merited potential concern.

“Jordan? You in there?”

Jenna was waving a hand in front of my face. I’d finished drying myself off and had been standing there without a shirt or bra.

I blinked. “Yeah…sorry.” I tried to snap myself out of the mental funk but I looked down at my bare chest and the generous orbs which once again (in a horribly public fashion) reminded me that who I had been was dramatically gone. I sighed bitterly before muttering through clenched teeth, “Think we can clean the shirt well enough for me to wear it back to my dorm?”

She held up the red strawberry and brown chocolate splattered fabric. “Uhh…no. What cottage you in?”

“Hawthorne,” I said, then wondered if she would react badly to that revelation. Given my mental state I wasn’t sure how I’d respond to such, but I shouldn’t have worried.

“Oh! That makes it easier,” she said as she brightened with a smile.

“Huh?”

“I live there too.”

That was unexpected. “But isn’t Hawthorne for kids with, you know, issues?” Like me, I didn’t add. Thought it, but didn’t say it.

She had bent over to shuffle through her gym bag, but paused to peer up at me. “Trust me, I belong there. I grew up with epilepsy. Manifesting as a mutant just made it worse. Seizures can trigger the stone form and with my strength…I can cause a lot of damage.” She winced. “A lot of damage.”

“Ouch.” I’d witnessed a grand mal seizure before and had watched hospital orderlies struggle to hold the suffering patient down so they wouldn’t hurt themselves or others. The memory also reminded me of something important, something that my own weird mood shouldn’t delay.

“Hey, Jenna? I need to apologize for something.”

She looked at me funny, but gave me her attention as she stood back up. “Yeah?”

“Back at the dojo, I know you saw me react when you took your hair off - and I’m sorry.”

Her expression darkened and she shrugged half-heartedly. “Happens a lot. Don’t worry about it.”

I shook my head. “Thing is, I didn’t react the way you think I did. You’re beautiful - with or without your hair.”

Her face rapidly flushed and her eyes dropped to the tiled floor between us.

Choking up a little, I continued. “I had a…a best friend. She was like my other half, really. You look, well, you look a lot like her. Without your hair anyway: she had been a brunette.”

Jenna looked back up at me, her eyes now curious. “’Had been’? She lost her hair too?”

I nodded. “Cancer. She…she didn’t make it.” I bit a lip to keep from crying as emotions swung wildly yet again. Dammit, Caroline - if I could only have taken your place I would have.

“Ah shit,” Jenna said as understanding kicked in. “So in the gym, when I took off my wig…?”

Trying to smile but likely failing I said, “It took me by surprise - triggered a flashback to the last time I saw her.”

She didn’t say anything more; she just wrapped me within a huge bear hug. I didn’t try to fight it - or the sadness that flooded through me again. The ache in my heart was as fresh and raw as on the day Caroline died, but unlike that day I now was in possession of three years of practice in trying to walk forward with life. I had gotten good at faking it, anyway. I sniffed and my cheeks probably were a little damp, but I didn’t crumple.

Slowly I pulled out of her hug. “Crud. Ever since the whole powers manifestation thing hit a…a month ago, my feelings on everything have been running rampant from extreme to extreme. I’m not used to this, at all. I hate it!”

“Like a non-stop bad hormonal period, eh?” She smiled.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Ugh. That sucks.” She leaned back against the sink counter.

Was she right? Was I just suffering from teenage female hormones? Natalie had warned me of the possibility. For that matter, was I going to have a girl’s monthly cycle too? The doctors hadn’t said anything about that. Crap. One more thing to deal with.

I wanted to bang my head against the wall, but I’d probably put a hole in this one too. Fuck.

“I lost someone close to me too,” she said, breaking me out of my head-banging contemplations. “My younger brother - he also manifested as a mutant. Fire elemental effects instead of stone like mine.”

“What happened?”

“Burnout - with actual fire. His regen wasn’t strong enough.”

Oh damn. “That’s…to say that’s ‘terrible’ doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m so sorry.”

“He was a great kid too,” she said with a painful sigh. “Always smiling and trying to make others laugh; even if his jokes weren’t funny his silly grin was infectious anyway. He actually gave me my codename when trying to cheer me up after one of my seizures.”

“Oh?”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah. I had collapsed in the hallway at home shortly after I manifested, and really shredded the wooden floor all the way down that hall with the stone-skin as I thrashed about. Made a mess of the walls too. I was horrified. Dad had spent the previous few months each weekend putting in that new flooring strip by strip, and I’d totally destroyed it.”

I winced. “Ouch.”

“Tommy - that’s my brother’s name - he kept joking that the rain outside had somehow done it. Saying over and over, ‘But Dad! You just can’t fight a rockslide when they happen! Weather Channel says so!’ When I got registered for my MID a couple days later I couldn’t think of anything else - so I put down ‘Rockslide’. He was so proud when I told him; he ran around the rest of that day making all the different ‘rock’ and ‘slide’ puns he could think of. He was such a lovable dork.” She laughed bitterly, her voice full of both love and sorrow.

I didn’t know what to say. I put a gentle hand on her shoulder in sympathy. “He sounds like he was quite the brother.”

She looked sideways at me. “I was lucky to have had him, yeah. Losing him sucks, but one thing I’ve learned since going to school here - you can’t let shit like that get you down. And there are always others who’ve had it much, much worse than you. You can see it in their eyes if you look for it - the truly haunted kids. Our cottage has more of those than most.”

I thought of Danielle and what she had endured. She seemed to have held up pretty well, but yeah as bad as it was I could imagine a lot worse happening to a child.

How horribly could such things impact a mutant’s manifestation? For some reason I thought of the girl who had been in the lounge with Leland and Maia last night - Evie. The more I focused on the memory, the more I could see her eyes had been marked with an inner pain that lay under her forced casual blankness. Something tormented her down deep, something that had put a huge wall between her and the world.

No wonder she hadn’t wanted to join us for dinner.

Jenna straightened up and stepped away from the sinks. “Let’s get out of here. You can wear my gi top till we get you to your room. Good thing you’re also sorta tall, this may not look as much like a strait-jacket on you as it would on most of the girls in our dorm.”

“Say, what year are you anyway? Senior?” I asked, forcing myself to focus on the present again.

“Nah, junior. You?”

“Same. Cool. Think you can show me where our showers are? My room is in the attic, so I haven’t seen where things are yet.”

“You got the attic? With the balcony on the roof? Wow, you lucked out!” She paused for a moment, then frowned. “Well - except for the exploding ice cream, and uh…the gym force field fritzing out. Those weren’t too lucky, huh.”

Somehow I didn’t think luck had much to do with it - nor with the ankle-twisting sinkhole or collapsing chair - but I kept those thoughts to myself to examine in more detail later.

We managed to roll up the sleeves of her martial arts uniform so my hands would actually stick out. With her being half a foot taller the thing still was pretty darn big on me. But I was grateful anyway - the thought of having to streak bare-chested back to my room definitely did not appeal. That was so not the kind of reputation I needed to gain on my first full day on campus. I figured being known as ‘the girl who got kicked through a wall’ was going to be bad enough.

Then again, I was also ‘the girl tough enough to survive being kicked through a wall by a rockslide’. That rep had more potential.

 

~o~O~o~

 

We made it back to the cottage without incident. Jenna showed me where the showers were on the junior’s third floor - along with our rather large lounge plus a couple of the study rooms. She also gave me a tour of her steel-reinforced furnished bedroom. At least her bed had soft pillows piled on it and she had decorated with the more usual teenage girl items: a few band and movie posters (including Nightwish and Pirates of the Caribbean), along with some fantasy artwork prints of dragons and Valkyries.

I thought her room looked pretty cool and told her so - and I realized I’d need to decorate mine somehow too. I didn’t have much in the way of wall space, what with the sloping roof and all, but maybe some plants big enough to keep Khan from eating them would work? Or a floor rug or two, who knows.

Stuff to ponder over the next few weeks in idle moments - if I had any.

As Jenna also wanted a shower, I hurried back to my room to get my new bathrobe (yes it was purple if you must know) with the hope of beating her into a stall and finishing either before she got there or while she was still in one of ‘em. It’s one thing looking in the mirror and seeing your own naked teenage girl self - it’s another entirely to see someone else. The thought of seeing Jenna without clothes had me feeling rather uncomfortable - she was incredibly well-proportioned for her age. Speaking of which, not only was she underage but she was young enough to have been my daughter. The whole mental scenario had me feeling like a creep; I knew that I was going to need to get used to the situation considering the setup here, but today was not going to be that day. Sure, she had just seen my own assets - but that just wasn’t the same at all.

So I rushed, even facing Khan’s displeasure at not immediately feeding him his tasty squishy canned foods when I ran in and out. The poor little guy would have to wait and rely on his dry kibble until I got back.

As it was, Jenna came in after I had grabbed a shower stall and was still in there trying to get all the soft serve remnants out of my hair. To distract myself I forced my thoughts elsewhere - which was rather easy to do given all the other topics bouncing around in the back of my mind. I decided to focus tactically - which meant once again replaying the unfortunate events of the day, how they may have happened, and why. I concluded I needed more information from subject experts on magic - or at least from someone a lot more expert than me - if I had a hope of confirming or rejecting my suspicions. Maia may have been a magical student, but she admitted she wasn’t yet that advanced. Problem was I still didn’t know that many other people here - kids or faculty.

Maybe that was something I could change.

After checking that Jenna was still ensconced in her own closed and private shower stall, I zipped out, threw on my fuzzy robe, wrapped my hair in a towel-turban, and booked it for the elevator on bare feet. And before you ask, Caroline had taught me how to do the towel-turban thing for wet hair as my own had been long for years. I didn’t know anything about makeup, proper nailcare, or other feminine things - but I knew how to do that at least. She liked her men to have long hair, and once threatened to banish me to the couch if I ever got it cut short. While she was joking, I had decided not to risk it.

Back in my room, Khan blessed me with forgiveness after his tastier food bowl was filled once again. Being a not-so-small cat (despite my nicknames for him), he really did need to eat a lot - and he was certainly not shy in letting you know when he needed more, be it three in the morning or middle of the day.

Checking the phone on my desk for the time, I used it to dial back the number that had woken me up all those seemingly many hours ago. As I had hoped, Mrs. Cantrel answered - and I explained my hare-brained scheme to try and get to know the kids in Hawthorne or at least get the introductions over with.

After she explained how many students were currently in residence (over fifty), and also the limitations of the capacities of the restaurants in nearby Dunham, we settled on a plan to make things work: I was going to throw a combination pizza and Chinese take-out party for all the kids, with extra food added to cover the staff too.

With the video conferencing setup they had in all the rooms and the lounges on each floor, we could actually have a cottage-wide party. With only a few hours notice, seeing as it was already after three in the afternoon, she suggested it’d be easier to order a ton of items from both pizza delivery places and all three Chinese delivery restaurants.

I bribed her with her own custom pizza if I could just give her my new shiny credit card’s number and have her make the calls and orders - the logic being that she knew all the diet restrictions of the various students, and I really didn’t want to leave anyone out if I could help it. If they needed special salads or something, I wanted them to have it.

Put that way she couldn’t refuse (yes, I am indeed evil and lazy), and thus I happily gave her the numbers. If you can’t trust your own cottage house-mother with such things, who could you trust anyway? She did warn me that with the voracious appetites of the students, delivery charges, and required tips, it would likely cost on the order of a thousand dollars to do this, and she tried to indirectly ask whether I could afford it.

She relaxed when I explained that my tuition, room and board, and school supplies were all being covered by a scholarship program and that I had my own stipend from which to draw that could more than adequately manage the expense - especially considering I didn’t have rent, food, or even a car and its insurance costs to cover. Furthermore, I wasn’t planning on doing this kind of thing too often - maybe a few times a year at most as occasions merited.

Reassured I wasn’t blowing my entire budget out of the water as an irresponsible teenager might be tempted to do, Mrs. Cantrel got off the phone with me to go get those orders in.

It may seem odd that I’d try to actively be noticed by everyone in my cottage, given the whole new-identity and hide-from-that-bastard-gryphon situation, but let’s be honest. I was a young female of ridiculously attractive proportions and sporting brilliant crimson and golden hair - one who had just moved into a special room in the attic of the cottage that no one else had been in for years and, let’s not forget, was also allowed to bring in a cat. Oh, and who had already been punted out of a building the hard way and yet later walked out of the medical building like nothing remarkable had happened other than a required change of outfit.

Anonymity in my cottage was not going to be an option by now - no way, no how. I may be foolish, but I’m not that dense.

That left me a few hours to try to relax and simply hang out in my room. Knowing myself and my general aversion to crowds, I knew I was going to need the downtime to be ready. After checking that there were no hawks lurking out on my balcony, I disrobed and went over to the open boxes still piled next to the elevator waiting for me to deal with them all. I pulled out a matched set of new underthings sent by Cecilia and tried them on.

Oh wow, I had to admit the bra was a hundred times more comfortable than the one from the box store that had been sent on to thread and cloth oblivion earlier. To say the new one fit well was a tremendous understatement, wearing it was like I didn’t even have one on - and yet it gave the girls all the support they could want. I mean, I could tell there was cloth wrapped around me and holding things up, but when moving arms around and twisting side to side nothing pinched or bunched up in any way. The panties also were admittedly a perfect fit to the new contours.

I’d never had custom made underclothes before. Okay, honesty time, the only custom tailoring I’d ever had done was on slacks and a suit jacket for my wedding. And that was just modifications to fit - not made from scratch to my exact measurements. This was amazing enough that I almost wanted to go try on the other clothes she had made for me - including the school uniform. Almost.

Besides, seeing as how a proper pizza party should be casual, I tugged on jeans and another t-shirt to replace the loss of falling Alice. This one was blue with Samurai Jack holding a katana.

What can I say? I was a fan of the show.

After getting all the clothes stashed away in the large dresser, I unloaded all the books onto a few of the shelves. Whoever previously lived in this attic had obviously acquired many books - there were five large bookshelf units to fill. With what Soren had sent, I barely covered one and a half. I could hear a new Amazon account crying to be linked to my credit card to correct this literary deficiency.

Girls like to shop, right? Do books count?

Speaking of accounts online, my next task involved setting up the new laptop. A power outlet had kindly been wired into the floorboard by the desk along with an Ethernet jack, so that made things easier. I went through the process of logging in and registering with Whateley’s custom student software application. Looked like the school made heavy use of online syllabi as well as other useful notifications like student and faculty email, and of course up-to-date flag color status. Useful!

As soon as it got registered I was immediately notified that all residents of Hawthorne had been invited to a dinner of pizza and Chinese cuisine in their various lounges (or rooms as required), all gifted by a new resident. Dessert was to be provided by the cafeteria. Mrs. Cantrel hadn’t mentioned dessert - that was rather sweet of her! Pun entirely intended, of course. After the debacle earlier, though, I vowed to personally skip any ice cream which was somewhat sad. I just didn’t want to invite any of the inevitable jokes to ‘watch out, she’s got ice cream!’ from any of the kids.

Lord knows I would be unable to resist making such jests if I was in their shoes. No need to provide the obvious prompt and opening.

There was also another notice from the administration requiring me to fill out a ‘damage to property’ form regarding the student-sized hole in the gym’s wall. I’d need to type up my full version of events, digitally sign it, and submit it to Campus Security and the Administration. Meh, I’d do that later. It sounded awfully tedious and more involved than just emailing back a one-liner saying, ‘Got kicked through wall. Ouch.’

Instead I found a desktop picture I could live with (for now at least) - a panoramic shot of Zion National Park if you must know - and I set about signing up and ordering myself a cellular phone. I didn’t need one so much for phone calls, but yeah I absolutely needed the clock and alarm. Shipping was going to take awhile (the expedited rate was simply ridiculous), but I had no idea how to get back to town to visit the local provider’s shop to pick one up - not to mention that if I was stuck taking exams all weekend, who knew when I’d even have the time to get to a store.

Khan finished eating and interrupted any further online purchases. Even though I had been told he could come to the lounges with me, I didn’t want to do that until I was sure no one on the floor would be allergic to his fuzziness. I grew up with horrible cat allergies and it had taken me a few months to get used to His Fluffiness’ dander as it was; so I didn’t want to inflict that unknowingly on anyone. That and introducing him to that many kids at once might be overwhelming for him. Probably not, but I worried anyway - blame my own introverted nature for projecting my issues with such crowds onto him if you must, he still was staying in the attic until I could come back to crash for the night.

Picking up his new mouse toy, we began another round of ‘throw toy, chase cat chasing toy, be chased by cat while holding toy, and be teased by cat pretending he might actually fetch toy’.

In other words, we had fun.

Eventually the phone rang to inform me that the first loads of food were arriving and I was needed to go down and sign the charge slips. I scritched Khan behind his ears and reluctantly explained to him that I’d be back later. He hopped up on my bed, gave me a look to express his command that at some point soon I owed him a lot of tuna and attention, before curling up to get a nap.

Fighting my own nerves as they fluttered in my stomach about facing and meeting over fifty kids in one evening, I was envious of his napping solitude. But this seemed like a good way to get it over with all at once, and maybe find the right people to get answers that might solve the mystery of my day’s misfortunes.

I could still smell that awful strawberry in my hair even after my shower. Exemplar senses - yay? Oh and if Jenna made any jokes tonight how me getting creamed earlier must have been ‘God’s Will’ because of me being an angel and all - she too would experience such a frozen anointing.

So was it prophesied, so shall it be.

 

Chapter Seventeen - Scrying

 

To say hanging out with kids age thirteen to seventeen was odd would be a mighty understatement. If I had known exactly how out of place I would end up feeling, I might have tried to plan something else entirely.

Not that it wasn’t fun in its own way, just…hmm, let me try to explain.

As adults we forget what we truly were like as kids, remembering events but not our thought processes at the time - let alone the emotions we dealt with every day as puberty made a mess of our mental chemistries. In addition this was all layered on top of the massive social concerns - who was friends with whom, who was ‘cool’ and who was not, all of that. A recipe for chaos, no?

Now take that crazy mess and add to it a set of kids who all have ‘issues’ due to their various unusual situations: non-human forms of all kinds, wacky perceptions (like Leland), medical complications, etc. You name it and the kids of Hawthorne had seen it, experienced it, or heard about it.

Take for example the poor kid who called himself ‘Snek’. He had manifested to be like a Lamia of Greek legend: huge snake body instead of legs underneath his human torso, with scales covering the skin of the top half as well. And since he was just hitting his growth spurt, he was shedding those scales once or even twice a month. Thing is, his mutational cross-breeding wasn’t perfect. He shed his skin like a snake, but like a human he didn’t have any fresh scales underneath ready and waiting. His bare level of regeneration took twenty-four to forty-eight hours to grow new ones each time it happened. In the meantime he was stuck in his room, which was kept clean like an ICU at all times to be ready, with him wrapped as a mummy in bandages, ointment, and loaded with painkillers to help stop the agonies of experiencing effectively being skinned head to toe while still alive.

I could describe many of the other kids too, but I think you get the idea.

So here they were, like children in a hospital’s cancer ward, being forced to deal with things that would cause most adults to whimper and break into pieces. Each had a painful fate forced upon them, and you could tell dealing with it wasn’t easy. Yet at the same time they were still kids. They wanted to play, to laugh, and if possible, to grow up as normally as possible.

You could see it all in their eyes and faces: they were old before their times but also trying to hold onto their innocence under the tarnish of their experiences.

In other words: they loved pizza, they loved cake and ice cream, and many of them still loved the chance to giggle and dance about with wild abandon. Meanwhile the older kids tried to act cool and ‘mature’ as they grouped up into their various cliques, hoping to impress the ones they ‘secretly’ liked - even while pretending to ignore them.

It was all on display both in the junior lounge but also on the huge wall-sized screen that was divided up into squares for the video feeds of the other three floors’ lounges. A fourth square divided further to show the kids who couldn’t easily leave their rooms - if they could leave them at all. The same music was blasting for everyone: some current day hip-hop or Disney-backed bands which I will admit I mostly had never heard of before, and rather hoped I wouldn’t have to hear again.

Yep, I was old. Auto-tuned voices jumped up and down on my nerves much like freshmen on couches.

However, unlike my own memories of high school, I saw something different with the Hawthorne kids: while some were clearly in more popular cliques than others, there was a camaraderie that transcended those groupings and even the grade levels. Seniors-to-be wandered between floors and hung out with the new freshmen, juniors had friends amongst the sophomores. The distinction of grade level didn’t matter much to these kids.

They were Thornies first and foremost. Each was bound by their shared experience of having to deal with times of isolation for whatever reasons their mutations or manifestations had forced upon them. Frankly, I felt self-conscious moving among them not because I was old and out of touch (which I totally was), but because my limitation and reason for being in their cottage was so simple and benign. I was an Exemplar and in perfect physical health, my only issue was the whole sleep-overload-slipping-away thing. Otherwise I could pass for a ‘normie’, my oddly colored eyes were all that segregated me from being a regular ol’ human. Plus I was a ‘pretty’ with looks that could lead to a modeling career if I were so inclined - even if I certainly wasn’t.

This made me a bit of an outsider, really - and it took being overly friendly and doing my best to treat everyone the same to get past the instinctual self-defense barriers these kids had learned to deploy as a result of their painful histories. Being the one who paid for the food made some grateful and more willing to talk, but it also made others suspicious - they didn’t like the idea of someone trying to buy their way into friendship. I respected that and didn’t push where I wasn’t welcome as I went between the floors trying to introduce myself and generally get a sense of the residents of my newfound place of residence.

At the same time I was trying to probe which kids were studying magic - especially those in the more advanced classes. When they’d inquire why I was asking I told the truth for the most part: I had just manifested and had only a month of real exposure to magic of any kind, and I admitted fascination and also fear of what it could do - including where I might find myself if I were to fall asleep outside the circle the teachers had crafted for me up in my room.

I may have overplayed my honesty and openness as that seemed to also cause some suspicion from a few of the residents. Tough crowd.

The hardest part for me was that I’m not all that comfortable in a large social gathering, let alone trying to actively get attention. All my partying days in college usually had me lurking on the edges watching the crowd and talking with those I considered my close friends. I had to force myself to go try and talk to everyone, playing the host - sorry, hostess - making sure they all got enough to eat while helping shuffle food between the floors to even out the supply with the demand. As the evening progressed and my own tiredness increased, I found myself reverting more to type: sitting on the outskirts of the scene and just watching them all as they ate, joked, giggled, sang, and generally carried on. I could mark which girl liked which guy and vice-versa (even caught a few moments of girls looking wistfully at other girls, and one guy who was trying desperately to hide his pining for another guy who was totally oblivious), and began to mentally sort them by their diverse natures.

Through the video-feed I spotted Evie. She was standing on a couch holding a pointy ice-cream cone like a microphone and joining in with a couple other very young-looking girls as they tried to sing along to the teeny-bop music. Her dark clothing was quite a contrast to the pastel and pigtails of the other girls, but it looked like they were all having fun.

“Hey, new girl with all the red hair!”

Someone was trying to get my attention. But as I looked around the lounge I was lurking in, I couldn’t figure out where the voice was coming from.

“On the screen, dummy. I’m in my own box.”

Oops. I looked at the Hollywood Squares quarter of the screen and saw a dark haired and rather yellowish-skinned girl waving at the camera.

“Uh, hi?” I said awkwardly to the screen. “Can you hear me?”

“We all can hear you fine!” shouted a boy from a neighboring square who was sporting a blue mohawk that on closer inspection was more like a shark fin comprised of smooth rubbery skin. “How else would a video conference work, duh!”

“Yeah, hey - I want to talk to you,” the girl said as she ignored the boy who was rolling his eyes at me. “Head down the hall to the first study room, we can chat privately there.”

“What about your room?” I asked.

“You wanna freeze your bum off?” the boy interjected with a laugh. “Penelope’s our Queen on Ice! All hail the Queen!” He giggled, though not with any actual malice - I could tell that much.

“Shut up, Trevor,” the girl said as she shook her head and smiled. She said back to me, “Just go to the study room, okay?”

“Sure, gotcha. Uh…then I guess, bye all?” I waved at the little boxes and all the kids who were stuck in their rooms.

“Bye, Red!” Trevor called out loudly, which got a lot of the other kids to follow with giggles of their own.

“Goodbye, Red! Thanks for the noodles!” “Later, Red!” “See ya, Redness!”

This of course prompted all the juniors (as I was back on our floor) to follow suit as I walked out of the lounge.

“Thanks, Red!” “Great pizza, Red! Nice legs too!”

A couch cushion was instantly deployed by one of the girls in my defense against the source of the latter comment, whomping him as he laughed. He grabbed a smaller pillow to use as a shield against her second swing.

“Yeah, see ya all around!” I called back over my shoulder as I tried to escape into the hallway from the escalating pillow fight. As I reached the entrance to a study room, I could hear an adult voice from one of the staff members trying to stop the ensuing melee, but given the shrieks of laughter and thumping sounds I had a feeling that might not be easily accomplished.

The study room had a number of tables arranged as desks, each with a large computer tablet set into the tabletops whose screens could also be tilted upward to face whoever sat there. Modern stuff, too - another reminder of why tuitions were so costly. I sat down and logged in on one of the tablets where a blinking icon notified me that a video chat request was waiting for me. I clicked, and sure enough a window popped up showing the girl who had wanted my attention, with her name under the window listed as ‘Penelope Rubak - Nenten, Grade 12’.

“Hi Penelope, I’m Jordan,” I said while trying to study her and what little of her room I could make out in the background. She sat cross-legged on her bed, wearing a sleeveless blank white t-shirt and white shorts. Her hair was muddy-brown and styled so it draped alongside her face before sweeping in a circle to dangle just above her shoulders. Her skin was a not-normal shade of yellowish brown; I wondered if she was sick or had liver issues. She was somewhat cute anyway, though. The rest of her room looked fairly standard as far as I could tell, not covered in metal or reinforcements like Jenna’s had been at least.

“Hey Jordan. Yeah, sorry I can’t invite you to my room, but unless you wanted to grab full winter gear I doubt you’d be comfortable in here.” She grinned. “I keep it at a nice and cozy twenty degrees Fahrenheit.”

Having spent the evening meeting all kinds of Thornies I took that in stride and only said, “Gotcha.” After a moment to consider I added, “I’m guessing that the usual temps outside would be a bit too warm for you?”

She nodded. “Yep. The cottage is usually at around seventy or so, which would be like Phoenix in July for me. Doable but…” She made a face.

“Ouch.”

“Summer pretty much sucks. But anyway, I heard you asking around if anyone was a magic student.”

Aha! “Yes, I’d really like to talk to one.”

“About Tamara McPherson?”

I hadn’t said anything about Tamara specifically to anyone. “Uh…”

She laughed. “I may be stuck in my room, but I like to keep tabs on things out there,” she said with a wide grin. “I keep a watchful eye over fellow Thornies - especially those that get kicked through gymnasium walls.”

“Yeah, today has not been the best of days.”

Her face got more serious. “No it wasn’t, and I want to help. I’m in the advanced magic program - shamanism runs in my family.”

A watchful eye, hmm? “Can you use magic to see things outside of your room?” That was one ability I really wanted to know whether it was possible, and if so, how hard was it to use?

“Far-scrying?” She shook her head. “Not easily. With the right medicines and altered spirit-state I can spirit walk, but that takes a lot of setup and someone to make sure my heart doesn’t stop while I’m out and about. I’m not as powerful as some though - there are those who can do it at will and at any time, but not me. It’s rare. And while I can do magic from a distance, I need at least a live video feed to focus through. I keep watch on things the old-fashioned way - knowing the right people and trading favors.”

“Ah. Spy-master type thing, then?”

“I suppose you could say that. I prefer to think of it as I’m a bored shut-in who is nosy into everyone else’s business.”

That got me to laugh, and I started to really like this girl.

“Which is why,” she continued, “I know all about what’s happened to you today - from the lawn sinkhole, to Jenna’s mighty sidekick, the ice cream explosion extravaganza, and even the cafeteria clock jinx. And I heard about Tamara last night having an issue with your codename.”

“You absolutely have my full attention. She really did react quite badly, which has made me wonder if she was behind all the crap that hit me today. But I’m going to guess your help may come with a price?”

She bit her lip and nodded, looking suddenly less sure of herself much to my surprise.

“Alright,” I said. “Lay it on me. Not sure what I can offer, though.” I also wasn’t sure how much more of my new money I was willing to spend on ‘intelligence gathering’. The party alone was pretty extravagant by my standards as is.

“Can I…can you let your kitty visit me sometime? He’s a Maine Coon, right? They can survive New England winters, I looked it up…so I was thinking, if he likes other people…” She trailed off hopefully.

“…that he could survive an hour or two in your room?” I smiled, thinking that come winter Khan might have a lot of fun out in actual snow. “He’s a rescue, so the vet didn’t think him purebred, but he certainly is properly floofy and has the tufts at the ends of his ears. He also adores attention. Tell you what, we can give it a try and see how he does - although I’ll need to order another litter box and water bowl for him to use while he’s in there with you, okay? Might take a couple days to get here.”

She squealed and bounced happily. “Okay!” Penelope may have been a senior and likely sixteen or seventeen, but she was still little girl enough to be bouncing excitedly on her bed at the thought of snugging and playing with my cat.

A perfectly proper reaction, of course!

“Hmm,” I mused. “Might need a heated bowl so his water won’t freeze, come to think of it.”

“I can set my room to above freezing for him, no problem! And my mugs have little heaters in them - I drink ‘hot’ coffee all the time! Can’t drink an ice cube, after all.”

“Then I think we have a deal.” I smiled at her. “So about Tamara…?” I gestured meaningfully.

She settled back down, visibly forcing herself to be serious again over her unabashed grinning at the possibly of getting kitty visits.

“Far-scrying is hard, right?” she said. “It’s a very advanced technique and only a few have an aptitude for it. Tamara has the gift, like her mom does - but she’s not very good with it yet.”

“She wasn’t anywhere near all the things that went wrong for me today, and I’ll admit I’m just guessing it could be a curse of some kind - could she have just put one on me and walked away somehow?”

Penelope shook her head. “She wouldn’t dare - any Mystic Arts teacher would see it and trace it to her. The punishment for such things is harsh - including expulsion. You were scheduled to see the Rabbi, right? Too big a risk.”

“It could all just be coincidence, then?” If it wasn’t Tamara, it was either just horrible luck - or something sinister from an unknown direction. And no way to tell the difference. Crap.

“Nope. She still could have done it. Her mom is a really powerful witch and can afford some very special relics. She also travels, like, all the time. So she sent Tamara a far-scrying crystal ball - a smallish one - so they could use it to talk to each other no matter where her mom was. Her mom is rumored to have a huge one gifted to her by a goddess and it’s said to be able to see anywhere on Earth - and maybe beyond. She takes it with her wherever she goes from what I’ve heard. It’s supposedly so powerful it can scry past most warding spells as if they weren’t there.”

I thought for a moment. “Could Tamara use her smaller one to cast spells on things she sees with it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. She learned how this past year - she really is rather talented. The only thing today that puzzles me is the warding on the gym. With all the outside betting on our combat finals by bookies in Vegas, the teachers really upped the wards on anywhere we practice our stuff. Tamara is good, but not that good - there’s no way she could have penetrated those to reach the practice mat’s shield generator.”

Frowning, I asked, “The ‘shield generator’ thing that went down - I might have been the cause of it, but I’m not sure. Is it magic or technology?”

“Think it’s a devise of some kind. So non-ordinary tech possibly?”

Tech then. Hmm. “Fields is a techno-mage hacker though, right? Is she good enough to make use of Tamara’s crystal - maybe with Tamara’s help?”

Penelope’s eyes went wide. “I hadn’t thought of that. Wow, that’s a scary thought, but yeah - I’ve seen a little of what Fields can do. If Tamara helped her use the crystal to scope out a physically secure but remote part of the gym’s network, I bet Fields could have hacked the devise from there without triggering the magical wards themselves.”

“Any way to prove it? The other incidents were annoying, sure, but that one was dangerous to the school given the red flag day restrictions. Also dangerous to my spine.”

“No way. I know magic, not tech - and as for our tech folks they’re the reverse. Also - I don’t want to mess with Fields, okay?”

The thought really made her nervous, I could tell. I asked, “Leland seems scared of her - but other than the IRS audit story on that other hacker he told me, what else has she done?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” She stared at me. “It’s summer outside - ninety degree heat to me is like one-hundred forty to you. I’d die in that. If Fields gets mad at me? I bet you she could take down the air-conditioning of all of Hawthorne - and shut down my own private system. Especially if she can make use of that crystal of Tamara’s!”

“Oh. Oh shit, yeah, you’re right. So what do I do? I don’t think Tamara is going to stop. If anything, some bullies escalate when they easily get away with things.”

“That’s where I think I can help. You’re a budding magic user too, right? They say you lit up in the cafeteria when staring her down, and practically the entire Mystical Arts faculty all did something up in your room getting it ready for you. Can you see energies?”

I nodded. “According to Rabbi Immanuel, I can.”

“Can you see this?” Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she seemed to stare past me. “Check out the ceiling above you.”

Looking up, I saw standard office or classroom ceiling tiles - greyish white squares covered with little black holes. “What am I looking for?”

“Try to focus on seeing or maybe feeling my energy, okay?”

I thought back to how it felt to look at the Star on the Rabbi’s wall with its glowing Hebrew letters. They were visible - but it was also as if they had been painted directly on the image within my mind’s eye too. Trying to repeat that feeling, I stared at the ceiling while simultaneously picturing the ceiling in my mind - it sounds weird, but when I got the two to lie on top of each other, I started seeing a green circle taking shape on the tile directly above me on the mental side of the vision.

“Wait, is your energy green…?”

“Yes! Keep looking!”

The green circle began to pulse, enlarging and shrinking, before sliding across the tiles in a larger pattern - leaving residue as it went that also glowed. “Oh, I get it, you’re painting something…”

“Right! So, what am I drawing?”

It was hard - my eyes still saw blank tile, but my mental image now had a green outline of maybe the symbol for infinity. Then I felt something shift in my head, like my brain had just put on its own internal prescription glasses, and the image became crystal clear. The physical image and mental had merged into one, my eyes saw it just like my mind did.

It wasn’t infinity that she had traced.

“A fish! A green fish, with gills…and it’s getting more detailed…”

The fish, looking real and solid to me to the point of having scales that glistened with a hint of rainbow colors, suddenly leapt off the ceiling to dive downward towards my face. Throwing hands up in surprise I fell out of my chair sideways to the floor to avoid it. “Gaah!”

It disappeared in mid-air, poof, and was gone. Penelope was laughing hysterically. “Your expression! Oh my god, that was hilarious. Oh no, attacked by a magic fishy!”

Slowly getting back to my feet, I glared at the tablet’s camera. “Har har.”

She unabashedly grinned at me. “That was great, though. You really saw it!”

“Yeah I did - it was very realistic. Like face-full of large fish real!”

“You’ve got some serious talent if you saw it that clearly. Awesome! And that’s your defense against Tamara.”

Wait, what? “Uh, how so?”

“If she’s behind it all like we both suspect and if she’s using her crystal to remotely cast things, she’s targeting stuff around you - and not you directly. That’s clever, as most untrained noobs would never be able to notice let alone see anything unless hit in the face like with a fish.” Her grin broadened, her nose flaring cutely as she did so.

I began to understand. “So if I can somehow keep my awareness up, I should be able to see where she’s casting things?”

“Yeah. Likely she’s setting down minor curse traps with her sigils - those only take a few moments to set up. Once done she can trigger them. If you stand still in front of something, or have an obvious path to walk down…”

I finished her thought. “That’d give her opportunity to get set up and nail me with it. If I see the energy forming, I can at least get out of the way?”

“Probably. Better than nothing, right?”

“True. But how can I stop her from doing it at all?”

Penelope shrugged. “No idea. She never struck me as the vindictive type though, to be honest. Her risking even this much by misusing magic on another student is really out of character for her.”

“Religious beliefs can cause people to do crazy things. My codename is, in her eyes, trampling on part of her faith.”

“I guess. But she’s always struck me as someone who’d patiently try to explain why you were wrong first before actually getting upset like this. I dunno, it’s just odd. I mean, I know she was pissed off about failing Math and being stuck here over the summer, but I wouldn’t have expected her to become a vindictive jerk. You going to change your codename if she keeps this up?”

“Still debating. But I don’t like giving up that easy.”

“Good. We can’t let folks walk all over us Thornies - even if they have crazy rare crystal balls to play with.”

I smiled. “Exactly. And thanks.”

She smiled back. “Just get the stuff for your kitty to come visit me! And bring some toys if he likes to play!”

“You bet. And if he does okay with the temperature, maybe I can take him to your room while I go to classes and things during the day? He’d be happier to have the constant company.”

She clapped her hands with glee. “Yes! We can get him an electric blanket to lie on in here too if he needs to warm up.”

“Good idea. Thanks again, Penelope!”

“You’re welcome! Oh, and…Bye Red!” She giggled and dropped the video chat.

Red again, eh? Well it sure beat some of the other stupid nicknames I was given back in the day as a teen-aged guy. And no, I’m not sharing what those awful names were.

Life is full of disappointment. Deal with it - it builds character.

 

~o~O~o~

 

It took a few minutes for me to muster the mental wherewithal to venture back to the pizza-Chinese-food-ice-cream-and-cake party that was still in full swing in all the lounges. I had been trying to remember the last time I had been amongst so many people in a party-like setting - and the perfect-recall made it abundantly clear that it indeed had been a very long time.

As in before-losing-Caroline long. The last party I attended was one she had us host for a whole bunch of her friends - and I had invited my friend Isaiah. He showed up, we did some drinking, and we ended up going for a long walk around Santa Monica. We got back after the party had pretty much ended.

Caroline had not been pleased as we had been gone for hours. Oops.

It’s not that I dislike being social, I like it just fine. I’m just more comfortable with a smaller group - I can focus better on them all as individuals that way. Too many and it can get overwhelming given time. Like I said, I’m an introvert at heart. Even at parties in college I’d usually be found on the balcony chatting with just a couple of people, as opposed to those in the main room dancing, whooping, and generally being goofballs.

And of course after losing Caroline, I hadn’t felt much like partying anyway - nor did I have the wide circle of friends like she did, so what would be the point?

Now, after the whole transformation and magical energy deal, I was finding that I could sort of feel people as a low-level buzzing in my head - which increased when they were being more emotional. I hadn’t become conscious of it until going from floor to floor, each filled with noisy exuberant kids, but even while alone in the study room I could still feel it in the back of my mind. The powers evaluation had noted I was a possible empath, so I wondered if that was my problem.

Could I have had empathic issues my whole life and not realized it? Something to ponder, I guess.

Making sure to sign myself out of the study room’s desk-tablet, I walked out into the hallway only to turn left directly into Maia - who had been running full speed down the hall.

Fortunately quick reflexes kicked in. I managed to sidestep, get my arms around her waist, and spin her momentum in a half-circle before setting her back on the ground. She was left looking up at me in surprise as the long green needles of her hair fell back around her face.

“Whoa, there!” I said. “What’s the rush?”

“Evie!” she said. “We can’t find her, have you seen her?”

I frowned. “Uh, I saw her earlier singing along with the other freshmen and eating an ice cream. She was having fun.”

“Ice cream? Oh shit, someone let her have ice cream?”

“Is that bad? She diabetic?”

“No, it’s just one of her triggers.”

What the hell? Problematic ice cream again? Gah! Before I could ask just what it triggered, a boy came running up the hall from the other direction.

“No luck, Maia! I checked the other floors too.”

While the kid looked to be in good physical shape from what I could see through his sleeveless surfer logo emblazoned t-shirt, his labored breathing had me believing he’d just sprinted a marathon. The blonde hair dangling over his face was slick with sweat too.

Transparent eyelids blinked over his eyes while he tried to catch his breath.

“Barry, you were supposed to keep an eye on her! That’s why I gave it to you.” She pointed at the thin silver bracelet he clenched in one hand. I recognized it as the same that Leland and Maia herself had been wearing the previous afternoon.

“I had to pee!” whimpered the boy as he handed the slim bracelet back to her. “I was only gone for like a minute.”

“Right,” I said while trying to keep them focused and not wasting time with blame, even if I didn’t quite believe his offered excuse given his sheepishly nervous expression. “Between the two of you, all the floors have been checked? And her room?”

They nodded. Maia said, “I checked the third and fourth floors, Barry did first and second, and Leland is checking the basements.” She looked very worried. “I hope she didn’t wander outside!”

I had a thought. “Wait a minute. Barry, when you checked your floors did you check the girl’s bathrooms and showers?”

Barry flushed pink. “I can’t go in there! I’m a guy!”

“Did you get a girl to check for you, then?” Maia asked.

“Uh, no?”

Maia and I looked at each other, then took off running towards the showers. She shouted back at Barry, “Tell Mrs. Cantrel - and if you can’t find her, tell Fubar! And get other girls to search the bathrooms on the other floors!”

I got to the showers first, my longer legs eating the distance like a sumo wrestler swallows rice, leaving Maia a good distance behind. I had just thrown open the door when I heard Maia shout down the corridor.

“Jordan, wait! You don’t have a bracelet…”

I hesitated, but inside the shower room Jenna was curled up in a fetal position on the floor in front of the sinks. There were tears at the corners of her tightly closed eyes and her skin was slowly shifting to stone.

“Jenna!” My thoughts flashed back to what she had told me about her epileptic fits and how much damage they could do - and how much guilt she felt over them. Was I strong enough to hold her down?

Only one way to find out. I rushed inside to kneel down at her side, taking hold of her shoulders to try and get her flat on the floor so I could straddle her and keep her immobile.

That’s when I caught sight of a figure further in the room. On the floor with her back against a glass shower door was Evie, her arms hugging herself while she cried a stream of silent tears.

Not to mention her eyes had rolled up into her head while these weird black eel-like clouds swam through the air around her.

“What the-”

I didn’t have time to finish the sentence. A dark inky cloud shot out from Jenna’s chest directly into my own. Coldness rushed up my spine and then I was gone.

 

 

Alone.

My house lay cratered and smoldering in front of me - the ceiling imploded, walls collapsed, and all the memories within burning in the flames.

Both my parents were in there, as was Caroline and Helena. Their charred corpses could be seen where the living room had once been.

Where I had played as a child. Where I had stood and decided it was time to buy a ring to put on Caroline’s finger.

Where my life had been. Now only a room of death and loss.

Abandoned.

I wanted to rush inside, to shout at them not to go, to not be dead, or failing that - to take me with them. But neither my feet nor arms nor head could move. There was a jagged piece of glass wedged against the concrete and rebar wreckage, reflecting the spot where I stood. The only thing it showed was a statue, a glistening white stoned immovable figure posing with a hand outstretched towards the ruins, with a mouth locked in a frozen and eternally silent scream.

Female, young, a goddess of beauty and proportion.

Unrecognized.

Beside me stood Mark, Danielle, and Isaiah. They were holding hands in a living chain, but my hand couldn’t move to join theirs. I tried to call to them, to tell them it was me stuck inside this false visage carved from marble.

I tried to beg them not to leave me behind but one by one they sadly turned and walked away from the house and from me.

Forgotten.

The sky above rumbled with thunder, and a flash of lightning burst the clouds open to cascade wetly upon me and the remains of my smoking home. Slowly, piece by piece, it all began to crumble and wash away.

And still I couldn’t move, nor even add my own tears to the rain.

Forever.

Minutes stretched into hours into days. The storm was unceasing in its efforts: shard by shard the walls and furniture wore away, cracking into splinters to be carried off by the stream running down my driveway. All I could do was watch.

Lost.

Something brushed against my ankle. Soft, insistent. I couldn’t move my head to look down, but I recognized the sensation of paws clawing at my legs. With a leap of incredible balance, a cat jumped upwards to land atop my outstretched arm. Khan, turning carefully, sat on my forearm to face me as his fluffed tail folded around to cover his paws.

In his eyes burned a sharp white brightness, and as I stared helplessly into them I somehow heard Caroline’s voice echoing from her hospital bed, reminding me of a promise I had tried to forget.

“Justin, listen to me. I have to go, and you have to stay. Not just that, you have to live - you have to move on from this pain and build a new life. Find someone, have a family, do all the things we swore we would do and find new ones to enjoy. For me, love. You have to do this for me, as hard as it may seem right now. Or else I will find no peace on the other side, you hear me? Promise me. Swear it.”

And I had. By the love I had for her, I had so sworn. A love I still held dear to my heart and which nothing could ever erode. No fire, no storm, nothing would ever take that from me.

The statue which was myself exploded outward in a burst of blinding light.

 

 

I was still in the shower room, though I was now on my knees. Jenna was no longer beneath me.

Something twitched between my palm and fingers - a glowing hand gripped that dark wispy cloud whose tail still sank past my skin into my chest. With an effort of will I pulled it free.

“For Caroline,” I whispered, sending a surge of energy into my hand.

The cloud evaporated in the brilliant flare.

“Jordan!” Maia’s voice rang out sharply with barely controlled panic and adrenalin.

Jenna and Maia hovered just within the room’s entrance, relief and worry mixing plainly upon their faces. Also standing there was a man I didn’t recognize - he had on a white dress shirt and nondescript dark trousers and dress shoes. He held one hand out towards me, but as I turned to take in the rest of the room, I realized it wasn’t aimed at me: he was gesturing at an almost solid wall of those black cotton eel-like cloud things. They were swirling faster and faster, and in growing numbers, at the back of the line of showers, occasionally trying to ram the demarcation zone made manifest by the simplicity of being the line beyond which those things weren’t.

“Ms. Beltrane, Ms. Birch, if you are both able, please contact Campus Security. Tell them we have a situation, and that I may not be able to contain Ms. Whitcomb’s sendings for much longer. We will need further assistance from the Psychic Arts department to punch a hole large enough for a tranquilizer dart to reach Ms. Whitcomb. Tell them also to be fully prepared. I would tell them myself, but my concentration here is constraining my range somewhat.”

Jenna reacted first. “You got it, Foob. We’re on it.” Maia hesitated, clearly wanting to make sure I was okay, but Jenna grabbed her and pulled her away. “We have to get clear of Jordan if she powers up too, c’mon!”

I looked back at the wall of…things. When I focused on them too steadily, fear and despair tried to climb back into my thoughts. I pulled more light into myself and rose to my feet in defiance.

“Evie is in there, right? She causing those things?” I asked without looking back at the man. He was somehow holding them at bay - at least for now. There was a strained tension in the room; the more I focused on it, the more I could see ripples through the air from behind me towards the sphere of darkness that must have surrounded Evie.

A sphere extending through the floor, ceilings, and walls - which would be no barrier to the slippery evil things.

“Yes,” he said. “They are manifestations of her troubled psyche. I had hoped we were helping her make progress since her arrival, but this is much worse and much stronger than her last episode - stronger than we had thought her capable. If we can knock her unconscious, they should stop.”

“Should? You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“That is because I am not. As powerful a psychic as I am, her power is strong enough in this state to keep me from reaching her - and, to be frank, I’m not sure what else to try short of something I’d like to avoid.”

He didn’t say it, but I understood what he meant. “Those things are that dangerous? We can’t just evacuate the building until she calms down?”

I heard the worry in his reply. “She is stuck in a feedback loop, each of the manifestations are driving her further and further into a psychotic fugue state, which in turn generates even more of them. If I were to falter the whole campus would be flooded, affecting everyone.”

The thought of all the kids getting smacked with the same emotional morass I had just escaped did not sound good. The amount of despondent despair from the increasing collection of negativity behind the guy’s projected psychic shield was horrifying. The impact of just one of the things had taken serious willpower and the light energy - angelic light energy - to break free.

The kids wouldn’t have a chance, especially the Thornies and any others who had serious emotional vulnerabilities the slimy projections could exploit.

He painted an even worse picture. “We have several ragers as students. The outcome would be a bloodbath.”

Holy shit. I’d seen the news about rager attacks - mutants with incredible physical abilities, including regeneration, who could snap and go full psychotic. The number of bodies left in their wake was always horrible. Worse still, they’d remember it all when they came out of it - they were helpless witnesses locked within their own heads stuck watching themselves slaughter everyone and everything around them the whole time. No matter who it was or how much the people mattered to them. I can’t even imagine that level of guilt - all of which would feed these evil things something fierce, and in turn would instantly trigger the ragers into full and deadly episodes.

Light still poured forth from my hands, lending a surreal contrast between the white and black portions of the room. “I just destroyed one of those oily eel things. Maybe I can reach her and pull her out of it, but I think I’d have to go full power. Worth a shot?”

He hesitated and I understood why.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked. “Who I really am?”

“I…yes. I do.”

“Then you know I’m not just another student here. I’m not a child whose entire life lies in front of them and needs protecting. Those kids are outside this room. And I’m not going to let them get slaughtered by each other or broken inside by these things if I can damn well do something about it.”

The air rippled more fiercely between him and the wall of contained nastiness, and the dividing line between us and them shifted closer towards us. Not good.

“I am forced to admit that I am in no position to argue. If I were to go down, you would be overwhelmed. Mrs. Cantrel has informed me that she is evacuating those she can, and will keep others as far from here as possible. Some of our charges, however, cannot leave their rooms without more time.”

I gave him a half smile, and with the light flowing through me I could feel his tremendous concern and love for all the kids in Hawthorne - nay, the whole campus. He had his own inner glow, though mixed within was also an echo of the terrible loneliness and isolation I had felt as the statue in my own recent inner hell. He had it under firm control, but it was there. My heart suddenly wanted to reach for him too, but Evie - and everyone else - needed me first.

“Just tell me when I can try. You have a name?”

“Louis. My name is Louis - though most of the students call me Fubar.”

“Nice meeting you, Louis.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jordan.” He paused to think. “If you can get to her, but she won’t respond to you - try to open a path for the tranquilizer dart to pass through and reach her. Maybe your energies can do that much. The dart gun should be here very soon. Along with one for…another solution.”

Another solution. He meant a regular rifle and an old fashioned bullet. A full-score rager event would kill potentially hundreds, and no matter what they couldn’t let that happen. Even if that meant sacrificing Evie.

I didn’t like it and I could tell neither did he. But was there a choice?

“You can go,” he said, his voice straining from his efforts. “It’s relatively clear. I’ll keep up the barrier on my end as long as possible.”

“Hang in there.”

“Good luck.”

Turning to face the growing wall of the swarming dark emotional mess I held firmly onto my promise to Caroline, and also brought to mind all the reasons why I had to succeed: Jenna, Maia, Leland, Penelope, and all the kids I’d barely met. Plus all the teachers and staff who, like Louis, openly held the care of these children as a sacred trust.

Sacred. Now there’s a thought.

The Rabbi had told me earlier that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Could God have sent me here to stop Evie? Or more hopefully, could He have sent me to save her? Like I had Danielle?

The similarity of the circumstances was uncanny: Soren’s rental unit had been a cauldron of crazy overwhelming energies, and before me now was a chaotic wall of the darkest and worst emotions spewed forth from a soul given unto despair. As before it seemed like certain death to enter, and also as before there was a young girl trapped within the madness. Thing was, the cost of failure here was not just one life lost, but many.

Far too many.

But this time I wasn’t entirely unarmed nor unprepared to face such a thing. With my heart and mind already holding on to the thoughts and emotions I felt towards all whom I loved, I added Evie and the school firmly onto that list.

Perhaps, even, I wasn’t alone.

Please, God, if you’re listening, help me save Evie. Help me save them all.

With the prayer I opened the inner floodgates as wide as I could and stepped towards the floating eels of despair and anguish. Giving a final nod to Louis, I turned and threw all the light I could muster into the swarming faceless inky forms and crossed into their midst.

I don’t know what I expected, but the black clouds shrieked and recoiled away as shadows fleeing the sun, opening a path that I used to walk slowly towards the back of the room. Looking back, however, I saw the darkness immediately flow in behind - cutting me off from seeing anything except the floor tiles illuminated solely by my aura’s radiance. Everything else was in utter shadow - a darkness that somehow was growing darker with each passing moment.

How the heck was I to clear a hole through it for a tranquilizer to zip through? Should I run back and take the gun myself to use it point blank?

As I stood there, pulling more and more energy and trying to push it outward to keep the darkness at bay, the unreality of the situation became overwhelming.

It was like being in a dream.

You know those dreams where you’re in the middle of doing something crazy, like driving a car into the ocean, yet you know with a certainty of intuition that the car will do just fine and you’ll be able to reach the spiral shell-towers of your underwater city destination if you just keep on that path?

That same intuitive knowing was telling me not to go for the gun. It told me I needed to reach Evie.

So forward I went, step by step, and as I did the blackness compressed in front of me - the layer closest to my small bubble of light which had nowhere to escape burned and boiled away as I willed myself forward. The legs may have been walking, but it was my will that moved me on.

I practically tripped over her. She had fallen sideways into a tiny ball, the nasty black crud clinging to her skin like an oil slick - covering her hair, her clothes, and her face.

She was breathing the damn things in with each drawn breath.

I didn’t think, I just reacted. I fell to her side, put one hand on her head and another on her back, and shoved all that I had and was into her.

The room spun away and I fell like a blazing meteor into the darkness that had claimed and overwhelmed the poor girl’s mind and soul.

 

Chapter Eighteen - Courage

 

Image after image, fraught with emotion, sound, and scent. Each shattering into a kaleidescope the moment they coalesced.

A door opening into a darkened room, a large shadowy figure entering quietly. Hiding under blankets which offered no protection…

Screamed insults and shouting from behind the walls, homework left undone, holding close the terrified family terrier while hiding in the back of a closet, wishing it all would go away…

Stench of garlic exhaled against the back of the neck, shame at relief that at least the intense pain was over, only the lingering ache left behind pulsing with each heartbeat…

A kitchen floor, freshly mopped by the morning maid, yet wedged in the corner still remained small shards of colored glass that had escaped notice from those too tall to see…

The clink of a belt unbuckling as it falls with expensive slacks to the floor, a man’s voice whispering how she was special, his very special princess, how he would take care of her, and how they were meant to be together forever…

Children, all dressed in expensive tailored uniforms, running around outside on perfectly painted courts with better pavement than the street that lay on the other side of the massive security fence separating them all from the loud traffic, a visage viewed from against a building wall over small arms huddled around knees out of tremendous fear - not of the other kids - but of what would happen should the bruises on her arms and torso from where the bottles had left their marks be revealed…

A woman in an elegant green dress sprawled across the hallway floor, grabbing for her as she ran past to get to the bathroom, sounds of the woman’s stomach rejecting its contents all over the imported rug echoing after her as she slammed the bathroom door shut locking it with the hope to just be able to pee in peace…

The shriek of panic and horror of a very young boy standing in a modestly-decorated living room watching a cloud of darkness flow unbidden out of the small girl’s hand and into his golden retriever, which now lay whimpering and crying on its side…

Between it all a single unmoving image repeated, growing larger with each iteration: a girl with short brown hair still in her school uniform, sitting in a chair next to a desk stacked high with folders spilling paperwork in all directions, clutching a chocolate-dipped cone slowly melting white cream over her small fingers.

Pushing the rest aside, this image filled in as more and more details piled atop of each other: adults standing in the background, phones ringing, computer keyboards clicking, hallways and offices forming a fluorescent bulb lit maze, blue men in intimidating uniforms with heavy guns on their belts walking purposefully, the smell of burnt coffee mixing with that of cigarette ash-infused clothes, all with the underlying intense hum of a place bombarded by hope and despair.

The still image, merging into the sounds and smells, pulled me in.

 

“Evie?”

She sat staring at the cone in her hands. She looked younger than what I had seen in Hawthorne, this scene must have happened at least a year or so ago. We were obviously in a police precinct, but whoever must have brought her here had gone elsewhere, leaving her with the prepackaged frozen dessert. My mind was still trying to sort through all the things I had just seen and felt from what must have been her scattered memories. My heart was screaming to just gather the little girl into my arms, but I knew that wouldn’t be the right thing to do much as I wanted to.

“We’re safe here,” she said. “The lady said so. Until I’m done with this.”

Her eyes were locked on the ice-cream, watching as another drip of the vanilla slid down from under the chocolate shell covering the scoop.

“The lady?” I asked, stepping cautiously closer so I could sit in the empty desk chair next to hers.

She nodded. “She said by the time I finished eating this my mother would be here to take me home.” Her hand trembled as she mentioned her mother and her home, and her jaw set firmly. “I’m not going to eat it. I shouldn’t have before, not going to now. No.”

I had a bad feeling I knew how she had gotten here, but felt I should ask anyway.

“What happened, Evie? Why were you here?”

A single tear escaped the corner of an eye and she sniffled. “It’s my fault. They’re taking him away, and it’s my fault.”

“Who are they taking, hon?”

“Daddy. The lady said they’re going to…lock him up. I’ll never get to see him again. Because of me!”

I swallowed, trying to pick my words carefully. “Not because of you, sweetie - because of things he’s done. Did he hurt you?”

“No! Well, yeah, but only…he protected me! He promised to keep me safe! It’s all that teacher’s doing! I told her to leave me alone, but she wouldn’t! I couldn’t hide it, my shoulder just hurt too bad…”

Looking at her shoulder, I couldn’t see anything obvious under her school sweater. “What happened to your shoulder?”

“I…I fell. That’s what I told them, but they didn’t listen. They called the cops; they made me show the lady doctor everything. I didn’t want to! Daddy told me what would happen if I said anything - and he was right!”

“They were trying to protect you from him-”

“They’re stupid! Stupid stupid stupid! Just like me!” She blinked and returned to staring at her ice cream. “I won’t be this time. I won’t eat it and I won’t go.”

What was it Louis had said? Something about being stuck in a feedback loop. Was her refusal to leave this scene the internal cause? If I could get her out of it, would she snap out of it?

“Won’t it melt, though?” I asked. “And I don’t think the cops will let us stay here forever.”

She finally looked away from her hands. Instead she glared at me, her eyes going hard. “You don’t know what happens if we go. We’re safe here.”

“What happens?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Evie, I want to help you, okay? But I can’t unless I know how-”

“No. You don’t want to help me, anyway.”

“Yes I do, hon. I really do.”

“No! You’re like everyone else! They’re all scared of me!”

It was as if a cork had popped - waves of black rage rushed out of her blasting into my chest, hammering at the light that I’d been holding under my skin. I tried to pull more energy to counter it, but it felt like something was stuck - there was plenty in that upper tower, but it wouldn’t open any further. I started to slide out of my chair from being paralyzed under the onslaught.

“You want to see what you’re all afraid of? FINE! I’ll show you!”

Before I could call out to her to wait, she stood up. Black ink flowed across her eyes and with a wordless shout of primal anger she threw her ice cream at the ground between us. The tiled floor collapsed with the impact, and we, the chairs, the desks - everything - fell through the widening chasm into the dark memories buried underneath.

 

“How could you be so stupid? Letting them see…What am I going to do now? Tell me!”

Mother was shouting at me. She had been polite to the police, all cooperative and making all the right noises about how could Daddy have been such a monster, how grateful she was that the school had contacted authorities, the sweet and fake sincerity oozing off of her just like the expensive perfume I was never allowed to touch.

I knew what would happen when we got home. At the end of the silent limousine ride, she dragged me up the stairs to the kitchen where her bottles sat.

She didn’t even bother with a glass, just opened one to swallow the foul-smelling stuff straight from the source.

I shrank silently against the island cabinet, wanting to cry, to run, to escape - but she had just started. I knew she’d still be faster until the booze kicked in.

What else was her running coach for but to keep her in shape to chase me down when she got mad?

“Fuck. I’m ruined, you little slut. You hear me? Ruined! Your bitch of a grandmother controls all the money, and she’s always hated me. Her precious boy in jail? She’s going to have a shit-fit. And I’ll take the blame. Me. Like this was all my fucking fault.”

She downed even more booze, glared at the now empty bottle, and threw it so hard it shattered on the cupboard above me. Shrieking, I fell to the floor, covering my head with my arms as the glass pieces scattered about everywhere.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “See? Just like that bottle, there’s my fucking life.”

She opened a new one to drown herself with more. I remained cowering on the floor and whimpered - the sound caught her attention again.

“It’s all on you, you know. You stole him from me, you little bitch. Ha! I can say that to you now that everything is fucked. Yeah, I knew. I saw how he looked at you once your chest started budding; he used to look at me like that. Oh yes! I used to be his ‘special princess’! He told me the same lies when we met that I’m sure he’s told you. But no matter how much I kept in shape, no matter the creams and treatments, I got too old for him - just as you were ripening so sweetly for him to pluck. Too old, and yet I’m still in my damn thirties!”

Staring at me with hatred warping her face she yelled, “It would have happened to you too, eventually. And all his promises would have evaporated, like they did for me!”

“NO!” I shouted back at her. “He promised! He promised to protect me!”

“Protect you? From what, his dick?”

“From you! He promised to protect me from you!”

Sneering, she gripped the bottle like a baseball bat, ignoring the rest of its contents spilling to the floor. “Well he ain’t here now, is he?”

Terror, rage, despair tore at me inside as she prepared to swing. I had to get it out!

I had to get it all out!

With an audible pop, this weird black cloud emerged from my chest and floated away.

“What the hell is that?” She took a step back as it lofted closer towards her.

But I felt better, the fear was gone leaving only anger behind. “Why don’t you just die!”

The darkness flew quickly, passing through the bottle she shoved in its path, and sank itself into her chest.

“What have you done?” The glass vessel fell from her fingers, cracking as the heavy base hit the tile. “Oh my god, what have I done…” She looked at me with horror. “My little girl…what…I can’t take this…”

“If your life is so over, then die! Let me be!” The anger felt good, felt clean. It’s all I had.

“I…there’s no hope left…yes…it’s over…” Her hands fumbled for the knife drawer, pulling out a sharp chopping blade.

I stood and watched as she sliced open her wrists. Watched as she slid to the floor amid the growing pool of blood. Watched as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” Watched as she died.

Only when she was gone did the blackness slip out of her and back into me. Only then could I feel anything other than rage.

“MOMMY! NO!”

 

Evie was hovering over me within a space forged of her inner darkness, levitating with hands held outward and black eyes daring me to respond to what she had just shown me.

“Do you see now? Do you? You should all be afraid!”

I wanted to collapse into weeping over what I had just witnessed, nay, experienced. She hurt so badly, so very badly, and she had shared it all with me - holding none of it back.

“Oh Evie,” I choked out.

“This is why everyone is afraid of me!”

“They’re not afraid, Evie…they want to help you.”

“Help?” She sneered.

I managed a nod. “Maia, Leland, Barry - they were desperate to find you, Louis is trying so hard to help you-”

“They don’t want to help! They’re afraid of what I could do to them! And they should be. I’m evil, don’t you see? And they know it! Look! They know what they need to do!”

She gestured to one side and an image crystallized in the air: the shower room beyond the swarm of unleashed emotional storms. By the entrance I could see the guy who had answered Director Goodman’s call to the Academy. Lieutenant Colin Forsyth was holding a rifle at the ready while other adults I didn’t recognize stood with hands outstretched chanting.

I couldn’t see Louis. Dear god, I hope he hadn’t collapsed.

“See? They’re here to kill me!”

“They want to save you-”

“Wrong! They don’t. I can feel their fear. I can feel all of them. And I…I deserve it! Don’t you get it?”

“No. And I won’t.”

Black oil leaked as tears down her face. “Why aren’t you afraid of me? You should be afraid…”

I beheld a child whose soul was in tatters: all her fears, all her anger, all her self-loathing, but there, underneath it all was still this glimmer of a tiny shard that desperately didn’t want to be this source of pain and horror, that desperately just wanted to be safe, to be held, and…to be loved.

Even after everything she had been through, that’s what she wanted more than anything.

“I can’t be afraid of you, Evie, because you’ve won over my heart.”

As I said that I felt as if struck by a tuning fork deep within. The vibrational rush filled me, and in the distance that glorious music once again pulled at my core even as it filled me up and more.

“What…what are you doing?” Dark eyes looked wild with confusion, and maybe, just maybe, a sliver of hope.

It would have to be enough.

“I offer my love to you, but you need to be braver than you’ve ever been to take it.” I held forth a shining hand. “Will you let me love you, Evie? Because if you do, I can promise I will never stop. Once given, it’s yours forever.”

“I don’t deserve that! You should let them kill me!”

“Not only do I not believe that, I won’t let them.”

Despair fought mightily against that tiny buried spark, but those beautiful harmonies called out to the unvarnished spot she had hidden so deep within.

“Please, Evie? You have to accept it, sweetie. I know it’s a lot to ask, but it really would mean a lot to me.”

With a courage more wondrous than even the ethereal orchestra resounding in my ears, she reached out and, with only a moment’s further hesitation, she took my hand.

The symphony swelled and in a burst of shining glory it launched us free.

 

~o~O~o~

 

There was a child held tightly within my arms.

Evie, face buried into my t-shirt which was soaked with her tears, clung to me as I stood up slowly, easily lifting her off the ground as I did so. Her legs wrapped around my waist as if they too were never going to let me go.

Without looking, I sensed remnants of her emotional cast-offs still fluttering around us; with an instinctual pulse they vaporized.

They were not going to bother this child any further. Not while I was here.

“Jordan.” It took Louis’ voice calling my name to get me to turn towards the others who were now awkwardly standing just within the shower room’s entrance.

Louis was there along with the Lieutenant and the two other adults - one a slender dark-skinned man in jeans and blue flannel shirt and one woman in sweatpants and a green t-shirt sporting a large tree emblem of some kind. While Louis looked tired, he was smiling.

“Heya Louis,” I said quietly. “Think you could ask Colin to withdraw?” The Lieutenant still held his two weapons, the tranquilizer gun and a rather serious military-grade rifle. I looked at the guns and back at Louis meaningfully.

Evie didn’t need to see those right now.

Colin caught on quick, but looked to Louis for permission. With Louis’ nod of approval, Colin backed out of the room. The other two adults stared at me in what I guessed was surprise mixed with caution.

The woman, looking less tired than her male counterpart, said, “Did she just-”

“Yes, yes she did,” Louis said. “I think you two should go as well. The danger appears to be past. Thank you both for the assist.”

Tree-shirt wearing woman obviously wanted to say more, but the man put a hand on her shoulder. “We should go.” His voice was astoundingly deep, and had an accent like a Brit who had been stranded somewhere in the Caribbean for perhaps a little too long.

The woman kept staring at me but allowed herself to be led from the room. “That’s just not…natural,” I heard her say before exiting the room, leaving just me, Louis, and of course, Evie.

“Evie? Would you like me to carry you back to your room?” I asked her softly.

She nodded against me. Kissing the top of her head, I walked towards Louis. The shower room’s door had been propped open, so I gestured for Louis to lead the way out before using a toe to lift up the small door-stopper thing as I went past.

Still keeping my voice low, I asked Louis, “Do you know where her room is?”

He nodded. “Down two floors.”

We made our way down the empty hallway to the elevator, which was sitting there wide open and waiting for us. I raised an eyebrow at him.

He smiled. “Advantages of being a psychic. All elevators are currently under Security control during the emergency lock-down. I had them send it up.”

“Handy.”

“Has its uses.”

We went in, and sure enough the elevator closed on its own to go down the two floors. Evie’s room was also conveniently unlocked when we got there. Louis hung back awkwardly, so I just pushed it open with my butt. Maybe he felt uncomfortable opening the door to a little girl’s room without her express permission, but whatever.

“You going to stay with her awhile?” he asked, his eyes still full of concern.

Evie tightened her hold on me. I knew I was stuck. “Yeah. She’s exhausted, as am I, but I don’t want to leave her alone.”

“Good idea. We’ll want to talk to you about what happened later, of course.”

“Heh. My second ‘incident’ report of the day, eh?” I gave a tired grin.

“I think it can wait until morning, at least.”

I groaned. “I’m supposed to take comprehensive exams starting in the morning.”

“I’ll have them postponed. This takes precedence.” He looked down at Evie, and back at me. I agreed with him - she absolutely did take precedence.

“Okay, then I’ll see you there,” I said. “But do me a favor though?”

He smiled warmly. “I think tonight we all owe you the favors. What is it?”

“Can you send someone over with any leftover pizza? I just realized I never stopped being social long enough to actually eat some. Oh…just no pineapple or anchovies, okay? Because eww.”

From against my shirt I felt a small sleepy giggle echoing “eww”. To say my heart swelled hearing it would be an understatement. If she could giggle about pizza, she had a darn good shot of being okay.

Louis laughed, and I knew he had heard Evie too. “Got it. No Hawaiian or salty fish.”

“Cool.” With that I impulsively kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Louis.” I flushed with immediate embarrassment, quickly ducking into Evie’s room to let the door close behind me.

I don’t know why I did it, kissing him like that. I guess something in his expression really got to me. I blamed the heavenly light still flooding through my system. But Louis had looked at me as I held Evie, and I saw a sadness and longing there in his eyes - one I couldn’t help but recognize and understand.

It was the same one I had worn whenever Caroline and I saw another couple holding their child, painfully knowing that such a destiny had forever been denied us.

Maybe both myself and Louis (for whatever reasons he had) could never be the fathers we had hoped to be with our own kids - but I could damn well see that he loved all the children in this cottage and at this school.

As I carried Evie over to her bed, I found I was already well on my way to doing the same. She scooted over on the sheets to give me room. I didn’t hesitate, climbing in beside her so I could keep her in my arms and she could continue clinging to me as if I was her very own teddy bear.

Neither of us wanted to talk about what had happened right yet, but that was okay. For now, no words were necessary.

Thinking over the crazy day’s events, I realized that Jenna had been right. There were others who had it much worse than I could ever imagine, and if they could still hold on and move forward then I’d be a coward to let any of my own losses weigh me down.

Evie’s courage and willingness to hope had shown me the way, and I made a silent vow to be worthy of it.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Outside Evie’s closed room the astral projection of Louis Geintz stood in absolute shock. While deep below Hawthorne his physical body lay submerged in its tank with its terrible GSD and a form akin to most renderings of Cthulhu - massive tentacles and all - his astral self raised a hand to touch its cheek.

“I…I felt that,” he whispered with only himself to hear. “She exists in body and spirit. At the same time.”

His projection flickered and disappeared in a rush: first, to send Jordan some pizza, and second, to inform the other faculty about what had happened, both with Evie…and now this. Emotionally, however, he was overwhelmed.

Fubar, even if it was only to his cheek, had just received his first real kiss after a very long time.

 

 

Into The Light (Part 5 of 6)

by Erisian

 

 

Chapter Nineteen - Manifestation

 

Impenetrable fog surrounds everything, deafening all sound, all sensation; walking yet going nowhere, for within the clouds there is no path.

A distant voice’s call; a response choking upon the barrier of thickening mist threatening to suffocate all…

 

A groan startled me before it registered as being my own. Summer’s morning shine had already brightened the room, and a familiar lump on the bed against my legs shifted position but didn’t stir awake.

Hard to blame the poor little guy, I’d only been in here for a few hours trying to catch at least some sleep before the day started - whether I was ready for it or not.

Which, come to think of it, is how all my days lately had been. Heh. I mean, think about it: not so long ago my main concerns were confined to whether my code would work and if I could meet the deadlines demanded by my clients. No crazy magic weirdness, no being surrounded by children who with a simple look of sadness could wrench your heart out of your chest, and no talk of being something other than a boring and regular ol’ human. Just a ‘norm’ living a mundane life wondering if their 401k contributions were high enough to eventually retire in some modicum of comfort.

Whereas now, I had so many things on my list to worry about it was ridiculous. And yes, also terrifying.

But first things first. This morning was still supposed to be about Evie, not me. That was motivation enough to stumble out of bed towards the bathroom and try to splash the sleep away with cold water.

I had stayed with Evie for most of the night while she slept all cuddled up to me, much like Khan does. She had given me her own tablet and headphones so I could surf for videos and things while occasionally munching on pizza, but eventually my eyes refused to stay open. Gently waking her, I tried to explain why I needed to go and couldn’t just sleep there with her. After boggling her tired eyes with how I might ‘slip away to another dimension unless I slept within my special circle’ she reluctantly let me go. I did ask what she remembered of the night before, but from her shrugged reaction I gathered that the answer was not much. Which, all things considered, was probably for the best. Granted, I was no expert.

Those were scheduled to meet with us at eight-thirty.

After brushing my teeth, and muttering some obscenities at my reflected face for looking far too fresh and perky compared to how I truly felt, I was in the middle of putting on a t-shirt before remembering that today I was expected to wear the uniform.

Oh joy.

Continuing the colorful monologue, I stepped out of the bathroom to retrieve a skirt, slip, and blouse from the wardrobe, and added yet a few more words once realizing too late that the purple bra was way too dark for the lighter colored blouse and showed through.

While trying to reach behind my back to undo the hooks of the mismatched bra there was a distinctive sound of feathers out on the balcony. Sure enough, the hawk was out on the railing again, peering in at me through the window. As our eyes met, the cheeky bird bobbed its head up and down at me again as if hoping for another bouncy show like it had gotten yesterday!

Stunned into gawking at it, I burst into laughter as it tilted its head sideways with an expression, I kid you not, that looked rather pleading and hopeful. It even stretched its wings out and back as if in emphasis.

Still chuckling, I shrugged and slipped free of the boob-trap, giving the crazy bird voyeur a couple small jumps up and down of jiggly cleavage. With a screech of delight the hawk took to the air again - this time swooping out towards the forest to the west and disappearing amongst the tall trees.

Shaking my head at the absurdity of having acquired a peeping tom-hawk, I donned the light cream-colored bra Cecilia had made to go with the uniform before quickly following on with the rest, including the dark pumps for shoes. A quick brush of the hair before shoving it all into a hairband and I was complete as a skirt-wearing school-girl.

Yeah, it was disconcerting seeing that reflection in the mirror and knowing that, hey, it’s me! But that’s just what I was now, no way to deny it.

And if I was going to still be here for Danielle when she finally arrived, I’d better get used to it.

Plus if I wanted breakfast, I’d have to brave the trip like this. Evie may have been allowed to get meals in her room to avoid social anxiety attacks (something she told me when I offered to come by early to take her to breakfast), but I had to actually go to the cafeteria if I was to eat.

Either I was just overly paranoid yesterday or Tamara was sleeping in, because I made it to Crystal Hall, was able to eat quickly (fluffy buttermilk pancakes smothered in real butter plus syrup along with an omelet and two cups of English Breakfast tea, yum), and jog back to Hawthorne all without difficulties. Even in my elevated-heel shoes. The sensation of a smooth slip sliding against my legs as I ran was definitely a new experience, and I can proudly say I remembered to sweep the skirt forward out from under me before I sat down.

Okay, so quite a few of the students in the cafeteria did stare at me while I ate - but I attributed that not to me failing as a girl, but from whatever rumors and stories were spreading about yesterday’s events or, in the case of the boys, their hormones requiring them to examine in detail the redhead sitting by herself.

Though maybe I just ate too fast and not lady-like or something. Meh. Whatever their reasons, I got back in plenty of time to rouse Evie from her slumber and give her time to nibble on at least the bagel and cream-cheese sitting on her breakfast tray. And yes, I waited in the hall while she got dressed.

As we stepped out of the cottage and into the bright cloudless morning, she took my hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. I didn’t dare say anything, just ever-so-gently squeezed her fingers.

Her grip tightened the closer we got to the medical building, but her expression was more of determination than fear. She was holding my hand, not to be saved or protected from what had happened, but just for the reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

We walked into Doyle together and if she melted my heart any further I would have needed to go wash yet another shirt.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Having been in the medical complex just the once and on the ‘Emergency Care’ side of things, Evie was my guide to the counseling offices.

Waiting for us in the reception room with its many red couches was Louis - still wearing the same clothes he had on the night before. I wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all, but his face (much like mine) didn’t show any lack of it.

“Ladies,” he said with a quick smile. “How are you both feeling this morning?”

I narrowed eyes and stuck a tongue out at him, about to retort how calling me a ‘Lady’ was ridiculous - but caught myself as not only was Evie here with us, so was a receptionist sitting behind the counter.

Crap, my smart-ass mouth almost spilled my secret. My mom warned me long ago that someday it’d get me in trouble, and come to think of it, she’d been proven right on a number of occasions.

Let that be a lesson: listen to your mother. You can ignore her advice, sure, but do listen. That way she can’t claim later that you didn’t.

Fortunately Evie didn’t notice my gesture towards Louis. “I’m okay,” was all she said while eying him with a cautious reserve.

I coughed in a pathetic attempt to cover my rudeness - though from his amused expression I knew he had seen. “Morning, Louis. You get any sleep?”

“Some. And yourself?”

“Eh,” I said, glancing at Evie for a moment, realizing I didn’t want her feeling any guilt for my lack of slumber time. “I did alright.” I forged a confident smile to back up the lie.

Yeah - Louis didn’t buy that one either. But I think he understood.

“You our counselor for the day?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Yes and no. We have a new psychologist on the staff who would like to talk to both of you. But, if Evie doesn’t mind waiting here with me for a few minutes, she was hoping to talk to Jordan first.”

My hand, still held by Evie, got squeezed again. Before I could lower myself to a knee and ask her if that would be okay, she surprised me and said, “Yeah, okay.”

She let go. I wanted to give her a hug before I went, except if I did her self-control might slip - which would only embarrass her in front of Louis.

“Right then,” I said. “Just a few minutes, though.” I nodded to Louis and he gestured to a doorway that led to a long hall.

“Third office on the right, the one without a name plate.”

“Gotcha.” Smiling at Evie, I said, “See you in a short bit.”

“Yeah okay,” she said again while not looking at anything in particular.

I went through the doorway to go find the unlabeled office and my hands curled into annoyed fists. If they had really wanted to talk to me first without her, they should have scheduled me earlier - even if that meant walking back to Hawthorne to get Evie after. If she shut down again while I was out of the room then the whole visit might be a waste.

It wasn’t until after I had knocked harshly on the third closed door before opening it without waiting for a response that I remembered Louis was obviously a psychic of some kind - and that maybe he wanted to scan Evie carefully without me close to her and was using this as a good excuse to separate us for a moment.

After all, who knows what my aura did to things near me now. Certainly I didn’t have a clue.

What was obvious though was that I had startled the occupant of the office with my forceful knocking. I heard a book hit the floor and a woman’s voice mutter, ‘Dammit.’ Stepping inside there was a woman bending over behind a desk that had an open moving box sitting on it. The walls behind contained mostly empty bookshelves.

“Sorry,” I said as the lady straightened up. “I didn’t mean to…Natalie!”

The counselor from the DPA pushed her glasses back up her nose then plonked a large book onto her desk. “Good morning, Jordan. I wasn’t expecting such a …pounding…on my door just yet.”

I winced. “Really, I’m sorry.” I looked back at the door. “I hope I didn’t damage it. I’m still getting used to this strength.”

“Well, let’s not worry about that right now, it appears to still be on the hinges. Come on in and have a seat. I’m in the middle of unpacking as you can see, so I get to apologize in turn for all the clutter.”

Moving further inside, I closed the door - and yeah, there was a hairline crack across its wood.

Argh.

The two chairs sitting before her desk had even more moving boxes stacked on them. There was a couch against a wall that had a picture of a calm ocean lapping against a lighthouse cliff resting on its cushions. A thunderstorm could be seen far out over the oil-painted water.

It made me think of the cliff that kept appearing in my dreams, and the guy who had been lurking on the rocks.

“You like the picture?” she asked, seeing as how I had stopped to admire it.

“Yeah. Reminds me of my dreams of late.”

She paused, then sighed. “I’ll have to ask you about that later - but right now we need to be discussing Evie.” She, at least, had dark circles under her eyes and was showing clear signs of lack of sleep. Is it weird to be envious of such a thing?

“How about you first explain what the heck you’re doing here?” I plopped down in a chair after moving its contents to the floor, and gave her a frank and expectant stare.

She showed a hint of amusement as she sank into her own (and more plush) chair. “Short version? I was notified two days ago I’d be moving here to fill a therapist position. My employment with the DPA includes moving to wherever I get assigned. Not that I mind this assignment, to be truthful.”

“Oh? You wanted to keep tabs on me that badly?”

She chuckled. “No. I just missed Whateley. I interned here under one of their staff psychologists a few years ago to finish my credentials, and I came to love the place. Even if Dr. Bellows treated me more as a secretary most of the time.”

I frowned. “This can hardly be a coincidence, though.”

“Of course not,” she agreed. “The Director wants someone he can trust keeping an eye on you - and to be here to help should you need it. I was a natural choice given the circumstances.” She paused to let me consider her statement then continued. “And yes, as you might suspect there is more that I cannot say - at least not until authorized to do so.”

Crossing arms I muttered, “Great. Just great.” More mysteries to add to the list, gee thanks new day! “So why didn’t you tell me you had interned here and liked it?”

“Because my own opinions would have colored yours, or if not, they might have come across as trying to push you even harder into going here than you already were getting from the Director. As a therapist it’s my job to council - not push.”

“Huh.” She kinda had a point, but I couldn’t help feel a little disappointed. Would knowing more have changed my decision though? Probably not as the other options weren’t all that great or feasible, all things considered.

“What’s important now is Evie,” she was saying. “I arrived just past midnight and was given a briefing on her situation, along with a summary from Mr. Geintz about what happened at your cottage party.”

“Mr. Geintz?”

“Louis Geintz, senior faculty of the Psychic Arts; he’s outside with Evie now.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Can you give me a short run-down of the events from your point of view? It could be helpful. You see, the staff here think they may have not only underestimated Evie’s abilities - but also mis-diagnosed her pathology. This is why they’ve drafted me into it. I’m a fresh set of eyes, not to mention you know me already and, as I understand it, you were central to defusing a very dangerous situation last night.”

“So you’re to be my therapist as well as Evie’s now that you are here? Bound by patient privacy and all that?”

“Yes. Unless I determine lives are potentially in danger by me not disclosing privately held information.”

“Even from the DPA?”

She looked at me with all seriousness and said, “I took my oath before joining the DPA. I’m a doctor first, Jordan. Always.”

“Okay, good.”

I gave Natalie a brief run-down of the party, including seeing Evie having fun singing with other students while eating her ice cream cone. Then told her of being swept up in the search for Evie later on, finding Jenna on the bathroom floor, and being infested by one of Evie’s manifested despair things.

That’s when I stopped.

“What happened then, Jordan?” Natalie asked, her tone shifting softer and deliberately less imposing.

I just stared at her while debating what to say. Could I trust her? Even with the claim about her medical oaths, the DPA had sent her to basically spy on me. Did I really trust the Director? They had done a lot to help me so far, that was certainly true, but they also had goofed up and sent me and Mark off without proper backup. Mark and I both had almost paid with our lives for that mistake, so all their official help after and the sudden personal appearance by Director Goodman could be seen as trying to cover it up and prevent any lawsuits. This was something that had occurred to me as I had thought things over while Evie slept.

But Natalie had helped Danielle, and yeah, she had even helped me. And I knew, perhaps better than anyone, how much Evie needed that kind of help.

How could I ask Evie to trust Natalie if I wasn’t willing to extend her the same trust?

Dammit.

Not meeting her eyes, I plunged ahead and told her of being a statue and watching everything I cared for in the world either burn down, be dead, or walk away. And how I owed perhaps my very survival last night to the wisdom my wife had shown as she died.

Natalie pulled a small pack of tissues from the moving box on her desk and handed it to me without comment.

I blew my nose after wiping my eyes. “Yeah, so, uh…I snapped out of it, yanked that nasty thing out of my stomach, and obliterated it. Louis was already there containing the swarm from spreading but it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to do that indefinitely.”

“Thank you, Jordan,” she said kindly. “I know that was difficult to do, telling me all of that, and at some point - if you’d want to - I’d like to talk to you more about it.”

After crumpling the used tissue into a ball, I tossed it into her empty wastebasket. “Yeah, but as you said, this morning isn’t about me - it’s about Evie.”

She nodded. “True. What happened next?”

“Well, seeing as how Louis was having difficulty, and after he explained how dangerous the situation was for probably the entire school, I had to do something. Considering I’d just vaporized one of the things I figured I may have a shot at getting to Evie and perhaps convincing her to stop - or failing that, Louis wanted an opening through the things so they could knock her out. Or worse.” I figured the reports she had been given would have detailed the worst-case scenario, so I shouldn’t have to spell it out.

She spoke up. “Louis described you as simply walking into the ‘swirling darkness’ and being swallowed by it. You disappeared completely to his psychic senses a few moments later and he feared something truly awful had happened to you. He was reinforced by other mystical and psychic arts staff members as well as security. They were trying desperately to not only hold the containment but somehow push a clear tunnel to open a shot when…” She looked at me expectantly.

“When I must have reappeared. And I’m going to guess that most of the emotional cast-offs got blasted away in that moment, except for a few stragglers on the edges that I took care of immediately after.”

“Can you tell me where you went? Do you know?”

Huh. That was an odd way to phrase the question. “Of course I know. I went into Evie’s mind, or subconscious, or wherever her spirit was stuck being overwhelmed by the feedback from her own inner demons. And before you ask, no I don’t think Evie remembers what happened in there. She just remembers being at the party, having a major panic attack after finishing her ice cream, and running until she found an unoccupied bathroom within which to hide. And no, I don’t know why she didn’t try to hide in her own room. Maybe she doesn’t consider her own spaces as being safe.”

“If she doesn’t remember, do you?”

I paused before answering firmly. “Yes, I do. All of it. And I’m sorry but you’re going to be frustrated with me because I’m not going to tell you what I saw.”

She studied me with her clinical stare - but there was no way I was going to back down. “Why not?” she asked.

“Because whatever bond was forged between me and Evie while I was in there was from her giving me her trust, and I won’t betray it. At all.” I glared at her stubbornly.

Her face transformed into a gentle smile, and damn me but it reached her eyes. With that smile Natalie looked truly beautiful. “That’s alright, Jordan - in fact, I agree and believe you’re absolutely correct. If deep down Evie came to trust you - then that is possibly the most encouraging thing I’ve heard about her entire case and we should preserve that in any way we can.”

“Oh, uh…” I floundered. Why did I suddenly feel embarrassed?

“Without betraying that trust, what can you tell me?”

“Uhm, yeah. I don’t know what you have in her file regarding her background, but it was bad. Really bad.”

“Her father is a pedophile who abused her, and her mother committed suicide the day he was arrested for it. After a year in foster care due to her grandmother - her father’s mother - being unwilling to take her in, her powers manifested and the grandmother then provided for her tuition and summer boarding here at Whateley. Without any direct family contact as I understand it. I agree that qualifies as ‘really bad.’”

“Okay.” I thought furiously, trying to determine what would or wouldn’t be a betrayal of trust to reveal. I couldn’t expose that Evie’s powers had triggered her mother’s suicide, nor say why ice cream was such a trigger point for her. It was all too personal. But maybe keeping to general ideas would work.

Dangit, wanting to help and knowing that the more information Natalie had the better she might help Evie was really making it difficult.

Natalie waited patiently for me to figure it out, and to her credit didn’t try to pry.

“Firstly,” I said, “I think you’re correct that she’s more powerful than everyone expected. Specifically I think she has potentially high levels of being an emotional empath. The pizza party had a ton of kids having fun and she joined in - much against her usual nature. If I were to guess, I’d say she was overwhelmed by it all and couldn’t help it.”

“Go on,” Natalie said encouragingly.

“Ice cream is absolutely a trigger thing for her. Especially when she finishes eating it. I won’t say why.”

“Interesting. Anything else?”

I stared meaningfully at Natalie. “If you really want to help her, you need to know when her powers first manifested.”

“Her file says…” She paused what she was about to say and met my steady gaze. “I see.”

“Evie blames herself for a lot of things that are entirely not her fault. But I can say that - deep inside - there’s a girl who wants to hope and, more than anything, needs to feel loved and not have others be afraid of her.”

I let Natalie think about it all then said, “That’s as far as I’m willing to push the boundaries of her trust. And she’s probably been waiting out there for me long enough.”

The wheels were rapidly spinning in her mind. “You’re right. I’d like you to introduce her to me, and then I’ll need to talk with her one-on-one. If she doesn’t remember what you saw and did while in…her mind, or wherever you went, then there are things she may not want you to know - even if in truth you already do. Make sense?”

“Yeah, absolutely. I get it. If she trusts me, and I can convey to her that I trust you, that gives you a leg up on helping her beyond what the other therapists have had with her so far.”

“Yes.” She smiled again. “And thank you for understanding so well.”

“Heh. I’ll go get her.” I stood up. “And doc? For what it’s worth, with me being a total noob here and all, welcome back to Whateley.”

“I’m glad to be here, Jordan. Very glad.”

I could hear in her voice that she really meant it too - and after what I’d witnessed of the school so far, I could definitely see how it could grow on someone.

Even if a crazy witchling was probably throwing curses at you between classes.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Back in the reception area, Evie was busily sketching on a pad of white paper with several colored pencils. Louis lounged in a nearby chair pretending to read a newspaper - his eyes were more on what Evie was drawing then anything on the newsprint pages.

“Hey hon, I didn’t know you were an artist,” I said as I walked over to her. “Whatcha drawing?”

She shrugged while not saying anything, so I peered over her shoulder to take a look.

What I saw caused me some serious inner confusion.

There, clear as could be on the white page, was a hovering angel: two magnificent wings drawn as golds and yellows, spilling out behind a slender woman clad in a white gown with bare toes. And her hair, of course, a long golden-red mane framing a young face with gold and silver eyes looking upwards with an enraptured expression.

I mean, how much more obvious could it be that she had been drawing an idealized angelic version of me?

Yet that’s not how I first saw it at all.

My mind flashed with annoyance: how the wings should be white and soft like cotton-candy made from purest snow, how the eyes should be a sparkling emerald green twinkling with merriment and care, how the face and chin should be a little more angular and more ageless, and most of all how the angel should have been gazing forward at the viewer with the most gentle and most compassionate smile that anyone had ever seen.

Louis must have felt my confusion while my jumbled thoughts and emotions tried to straighten themselves out. He was suddenly standing over Evie’s other shoulder.

“Is that someone we know?” he asked her.

She shrugged again. “It’s Jordan. Duh.”

Only then did it click in my head that she had drawn me. And done a really good job of it too.

Evie spoke again while adding more crimson to the hair. “She’s my angel, so who else could it be?”

Shit. What the hell - or heaven - was up with my mind? Who had I thought it to be? The mental image that had briefly flashed was already gone, and to my great frustration my so-called perfect recall failed to summon it back.

“Who said I was an angel?” I asked quickly, wondering if Jenna had let that cat out of the bag.

“My dream last night. I saw you.”

Oh.

Louis caught my attention and tilted his head back towards Natalie’s office. Right. The reason we were here and all that.

“Hey Evie? The counselor lady would like to meet you, can I introduce you to her? Turns out I know her. She’s someone who’s helped me a lot.”

Suspicious fourteen-year-old eyes looked sideways up at me. “Helped you?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Everyone’s got stuff they have trouble dealing with, you know? Me included. She’s been good, and also is rather smart.”

She thought about that then asked, “Think she’d like my drawing of you?”

Louis answered before I could. “I can say with utmost confidence that she would adore it. In fact, as her office is brand new and needs pictures for its walls, I bet she’d hang it up if you offered it to her.”

“Really?” Evie’s face lit up.

Inwardly I groaned. A picture of me as an angel hanging on Natalie’s wall? Gah!

“Yeah,” I forced myself to say. “Shall we go give it to her?”

“Okay!”

As you’ve probably guessed, Louis was right. Natalie gushed over the sketch, not having to fake admiration as it really was well done - much better than anything I could do, that’s for sure - and she immediately pinned it to her wall.

Natalie sneakily gave me a wide grin as she did so too, and it was all I could do to not put my face into my hands.

That having been accomplished, and with Evie still radiating pride at her artwork being so prominently displayed, Louis and I were allowed to retreat so Natalie could begin working her own form of magic with her new patient.

Louis exited first so I closed the door behind us, leaving us both standing in the hallway.

He smiled. “That went better than I had hoped.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “So where am I due next? Should I wait here for them to be done, or did you teaching folks just postpone those placement exams until I was free here?”

“Postponed. But first, Rabbi Kirov is waiting for you in the conference room down the hall. He’d like to speak with you before tossing you at those exams.”

“Uh, he’s been waiting all this time? Here, and not in his own office?”

Louis’ expression went purposively blank. “He felt it was important to not delay and I agreed with him.”

“Something happen?” I asked, worry once again filling my stomach with anxiety-bees. “I mean, more than the stuff with Evie last night?”

“Go see him and find out.”

Yet more mysteries? Great. At least this one sounded like it could actually get explained. Be still my beating heart.

“Fine.” Shaking my head, I marched down the hall looking for the conference room. I left Louis standing behind me as he didn’t follow having gestured for me to keep going.

Imagine my surprise after I entered the conference room and saw Rabbi Kirov sitting at the table with Louis already sitting next to him.

 

~o~O~o~

 

I got mad. “What the hell, Louis? Are you a teleporter as well as a psychic? You could have just told me. It’s not like I haven’t had enough damn shocks in the past week to deal with!” I’m not sure why it pissed me off that much, but it felt like they were toying with me just because they could.

Kirov raised a sheepish hand. “Oh my. This is my fault, I’m afraid - I asked him to show you instead of telling. I’ve often found it easier to show than to tell if that’s possible.”

“Show me what? That he can teleport as well as do…uhh…psychic stuff?”

Louis shook his head. “I’m not a positional displacer. I’m a psychic projector.”

“Say again?”

He sighed, looking to the rabbi to explain.

“Mr. Geintz suffered an…anomaly…with his physical form. He resides under Hawthorne in a special tank designed for his needs.”

“Wait, what?” My anger drained away. “Louis, how bad…? And how…”

He tried to explain. “Like I said, I project my psyche into the minds of those I wish to see and interact with. And if I need to project more of my mental strength remotely, I augment the projection with a form of what is usually termed ‘astral travel’. As for how bad, I believe there are those who have it worse. At least I’m alive and have the ability to function, even if with some limitations, at considerable range.”

I suddenly understood why the kids had called him ‘Fubar’. The old military acronym apparently applied to him in a literal sense. Oh man.

Louis waved away my sympathies. “Please don’t worry on my behalf. But it was important for you to understand this about me, in order for us to explore something that was quite the surprise last night. Something in addition to your being able to banish Evie’s emotional manifestations and pulling her from her fugue state.”

“Uh, okay? What else did I do?”

“You kissed me.”

My eyes widened as I blushed intensely. “Just…just on the cheek!”

Kirov chortled. “Yes, yes, an innocent gesture, we do not doubt that!”

“Then…what…?” Embarrassment and confusion, please report to the frontal cortex. Aye aye, Captain!

Louis said rather quietly, “You should not have been able to do that.” And to demonstrate he waved a hand slowly through Rabbi Kirov’s arm, and also through the conference table it was resting on.

“Wait, you’re not substantial?” My mind replayed my interactions with him: in the shower room, down the hall, the elevator, at Evie’s door…oh my god, he had never touched anything. I opened or closed all the doors, I carried Evie, and the elevators were controlled by Security from elsewhere. “Then how…?”

Louis stood and stepped in front of me. “How did you kiss me? Here, take my hand if you can.” He held his hand out. I stared at it, then hesitatingly put my hand in his.

It felt real and solid to me.

“Remarkable,” Kirov exhaled. “You were right, Louis.”

Louis stared down with wonder in his eyes, brushing the back of my hand gently with a thumb. I became acutely aware that a man was holding my now-fully-girl fingers in a tender yet strangely intimate fashion.

I flushed a deeper red and pulled my hand away.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said, still subdued. “It’s just been…quite awhile since I touched anyone.”

Ah dammit. Now I felt like a total bitch for pulling away. Emotional ping-pong, me? Yeah, I was all over the map.

I tried to cover for it. “No, it’s okay - I’m just a bit taken aback is all.”

Rabbi Kirov spoke up. “Without a ritual, I’d likely have a hard time perceiving it, but can you, Louis? What we discussed?”

“Perceive what?” I asked, looking between the two of them.

Louis began to circle around, examining me from my head to my feet on all sides. I would have been further embarrassed by this but his expression was focused - much like when corralling Evie’s demon-eels. He also was very careful to not appear to be trying to peek up my skirt. When he was behind me he stopped, and then I felt his open palm touch me right between the shoulder blades.

His hand sank right through the uniform blouse and bra-strap, to rest against my bare skin. Yes, it was really freaking odd. I could feel both his hand and my blouse with the bra all at the same time and on the same area of skin.

“Here,” he said. “The connection is here.” He removed his hand, and I felt an urge to adjust my clothing - but they hadn’t been disturbed.

I spoke through gritted teeth as between anger and embarrassment I’d reached my limits. “Would one of you two mysteriosos just explain already?”

Kirov nodded his head. “You have heard of astral projection, hmm?”

“You mean other than Louis mentioning it just now? Yeah, sure, spirit leaving its body and floating off somewhere. Which is something Louis here does I take it?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Louis said. “Jordan, take a look at me like I just did with you, try to see my energy pattern. Look for a cord or trail going off behind. Some people will see a silver cord, but not all view it the same way. It’s the mental and energy connection to my physical body.”

“Okay.” Having just practiced this sort of thing with Penelope the night before, I let my imagination picture Louis while overlaying that image with the one from my eyes.

It took a minute or two anyway and I had to move around him while he tried to guide me where to look. A couple of times he even disappeared completely which caused me to jump, but with a few blinks his image returned into focus. And sure enough, I finally could make out a faint glowing trail of bluish-green light flowing outward from his stomach as it crossed the room to where it seemed to fold itself through space. “I think I see it!”

I tried to make sense of that twist in the air at the end and was slammed with a quick mental flash of a large tentacled face belonging to some kind of eldritch horror lurking below dark waters. In my shock at seeing such an image I instantly and completely lost focus.

“Uh,” I said. “Was that…?”

Louis nodded. “Yes, that was my actual body.”

I swallowed, not sure what to say. But my mind popped up a question while the emotions were busy stumbling around. “Hey. If you’re projecting here from your physical body, and you have that cord connecting you…why were you looking for that on me? I mean, I’m already here, right?”

Rabbi Kirov fielded this one. “No, that is just the issue, you see. You should not be able to interact with Louis’ projection as if he were physical unless you yourself were also of the spiritual plane. And yet, not only are you able to touch him - but clearly you can touch the physical realm in full as well.”

Louis asked the rabbi, “So is she a remote manifestor then? It’s rare, though I’ve heard stories of it being possible. But if so, where is her body? I was unable to trace the connection but even my range has limits.”

Immanuel sank further into his chair. “That is the crux of it. If I’m not mistaken, she has no body at the other end: she is an angel projecting to here from Above. Something which, according to the lore that I have devoted my life to studying, says should be entirely impossible in this day and age.”

“Wait, what?” I spluttered.

He looked at me over his glasses with bemused astonishment.

“I do believe you are here by virtue of a bona-fide miracle. Because you, when you manifested in this form as we see you now, must have already passed beyond.”

I looked to Louis in frustration. “What the hell does all that mean?”

Louis answered simply.

“It means that you died.”

 

Chapter Twenty - Memory

 

Louis and Rabbi Kirov were arguing. My thoughts scrambled about like eggs tossed into a hot tumbling clothes dryer: cooked into an utterly inedible mess all over everything. Having collapsed into a chair at the far end of the conference table I hadn’t paid much attention to their debate.

“…of course it must be due to Hashem’s direct will, Louis,” the rabbi was saying. “The lore is clear: the Malakhim after the incidents with the Grigori were not allowed to walk freely amongst mankind. It has been strictly forbidden since the time of the Flood, and obviously enforced or else the Host would not have need of human avatars to be their mediums. How else, if not for Hashem’s intervention, could she be a manifested spirit?”

“What of Sodom and Gomorrah?” Louis responded. “As I recall the story, two angels walked in, interacted with Lot, and wiped out both towns. Supposedly they even ate and drank at Lot’s table. How could they have done that without manifesting?”

“Obviously they made use of two human avatars to achieve their appointed tasks and departed when all had been accomplished. In truth, the legend of the Grigori gives a very interesting explanation as to how the first meta-genes may have been introduced. Nothing provable, of course, but still utterly fascinating when you consider-”

“This is bullshit!” I shouted, much to their surprise and my own. “All of it! If I’m dead and just some kind of crazy spirit projection then why the hell did my getting kicked straight through the gym’s wall hurt so damn much! I bruised the crap out of my spine, shattered my leg, snapped an arm, and bled all over the place. And don’t even get me started on the pain from Soren’s stupid ritual box - I wouldn’t wish that level of agony on anyone, not even the bastard gryphon who slit my throat! If I’m not real and alive, then what the hell is? Sure I was able to heal it all up, but for fuck’s sake how can something that doesn’t exist need healing?”

The rabbi’s eyes were the size of saucers from behind his spectacles. Louis, with a forced calmness, said, “Jordan.” He pointed towards my hands.

My skin had flared up brightly again and glowing fingers were clawing grooves into the wooden conference table.

“No one said you didn’t exist,” Louis said, speaking as if to a crazy and possibly dangerous escaped mental patient.

“You said I died!” My shoulders shook and the table’s wood creaked dangerously under the force of my grip.

“Yet by virtue of a miracle you were resurrected,” Kirov said, echoing Louis’ tone.

“I don’t care about ‘miracles’!” I snarled. “You two can debate theology all you want, but leave me the hell out of it. I’m here, I’m going to keep being here, and I’m going to make damn sure that Danielle, and come to think of it Evie too, are taken care of. So do what you want and think what you want, but in the meantime just point me to these student evaluation exams so I can get them over with and move on!”

I glared wildly at them, daring either to object.

“If nothing else,” said Kirov slowly even as he flinched under my gaze. “We may need to adjust the second circle in your room.”

Louis went silent, probably deliberately to get me to stop yelling and be the one to ask the obvious question. Either that or he was afraid of setting me off further.

“What does that have to do with anything?” My voice cracked with hysteria.

The rabbi fumbled with his glasses, trying to clean an imagined spot with his dress shirt. Crap, he was terrified that I’d do something stupid...or worse.

Feeling awful to have caused such a reaction, anger drained towards despair.

“Because we were wrong in its design,” he said, his complexion pale. “It was intended to keep a body and spirit from crossing dimensions - but that was based on the assumption that both were already contained within. Except your greater spirit is not.”

They just stared at me, obviously worried that anything they said further might push me over the edge. They were afraid of me. Of me! Dammit, was this how Evie felt every day? Seeing other people be scared of her and what she might do? Knowing that if she lost it, their fears were completely founded?

I groaned, echoing how I had woken up that morning. Frustrated and isolated like I had been in the dream.

Wait. My dream and the damn fog. “Could that circle have been messing up my dreams too?”

Kirov put his glasses back on his nose, his now-magnified eyes still watching me anxiously. “The second circle? Have you had…difficulties?”

“I don’t know.” I traced a finger along the gouges I’d made in the table. The wood had cracked and splintered, but no shards had penetrated my skin. “Before arriving here I kept dreaming of this repeating ocean cliff place - but the last couple nights I was stuck in this impenetrable fog. Like I was trying to get through it but couldn’t. It was starting to bother me, but I had thought it was just a reflection of, you know, frustrations.” I crossed arms, pinning hands under elbows.

The rabbi became more thoughtful. “I will need to discuss this with colleagues, but it’s quite possible. Perhaps this can be taken care of during the required renovations to your room: either its removal or modification.”

“The what?” Renovations? Huh?

Louis hastily clarified. “The Administration reviewed the regulations regarding student accommodations. It was found that the rules explicitly require all student rooms to have a solid door with a lock to ensure student privacy.”

“The elevator access thing isn’t good enough? It’s got doors.”

“Apparently not,” Louis said. “And maintenance may need access to the piping and air conditioning ducts that lie on the other side of the elevator from your area in any case, which could also violate the privacy clause - something the school takes very seriously. The plan is to put up drywall to create a small lobby space of sorts so they can hang a door specific to your room.”

Oh great. “And where is my cat supposed to go during all this construction?”

They glanced at each other and then back at me before the rabbi answered. “We were supposed to discuss that with you. Perhaps he could stay with another student during the day tomorrow while the walls are put up? And then again on Sunday for the painting. I have been reassured they will use quick-dry paint; you should only be inconvenienced for this weekend.”

The shift in the conversation was surreal, like being concerned about what wine to drink while the Titanic sank. But I knew one thing - I’d reached my limits. “Khan can stay with Penelope - but if he gets too cold, she needs to be able to contact someone to move him, maybe to Jenna’s room if she’s willing. I’ll ask her. Anything else?” I said frostily, wanting to get the heck out of there.

“I believe Evie and Natalie are likely to be finished soon,” Louis said quickly. “Could you escort Evie back to Hawthorne? I’m sure Rabbi Kirov in the meantime can arrange for your first sets of exams to start early this afternoon.”

The rabbi became flustered. “Wait, there is still much to talk about - we haven’t even tested if she’s impermeable to unseen astral presences or only your own-”

“Not today, Rabbi,” Louis interrupted.

“But-”

Louis raised a hand to cut Kirov off again. “We can wait to ask Jordan to revisit powers testing at a later date. I don’t think the administration would be keen to replace yet more furniture.”

We all glanced at the deep grooves I had left engraved into the conference table.

I felt bad about it - but was still too worked up to offer an apology. Besides, with what they charged for tuition I’m sure they could afford a new table, dammit.

 

~o~O~o~

 

It was only a few minutes wait before Evie was ready to go back to Hawthorne. She put her hand back in mine as we exited the building, but as I was still irritated by everything she stiffened.

She didn’t pull her hand back though.

Ah dang. “I’m sorry, hon. I’m kinda worked up at the moment.”

“Because of me?” She asked steadily. Underneath though she was bracing for an affirmative answer.

“Oh no, not because of you, not at all.”

“Then what?” she asked suspiciously.

I sighed. “They told me something about myself that pissed me off. And also scares me.”

“You’re not afraid,” she said immediately and with conviction.

“I’m not?”

“No. You’re mad and you’re worried. But that’s different than fear. You’re like Natalie.”

Wait, what? “Natalie? She’s mad and worried too?”

Evie nodded. “Yeah. She’s angry about something, but she’s not afraid of me - she’s worried about me. And about you. She’s okay - I like her.”

“I like her too.” I wondered what Natalie could be mad about. She seemed genuinely happy to be here, but also admitted that there were things she wasn’t being allowed to tell me.

Maybe that was it. Or yet something else entirely unrelated - and I doubt she’d say anything if I asked in any case. Plus I had plenty to worry about as is. Enough to wear through the leather of her new couch trying to work through it all.

We walked the paved path that cut through the thick grass towards Hawthorne while I tried to distract myself from everything by scanning for any mystical energy interferences like Penelope had suggested. Besides, I wasn’t sure if Tamara would leave me alone if I had someone else with me and didn’t want to risk it if I could help it.

Evie, being awfully more perceptive than I expected, took notice.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Scanning for curses,” I shrugged.

“Is that why you were asking everyone about magic at the party? I heard you talking to others about it.”

“Um, yeah.” And here I thought I’d been discreet and subtle. Guess not.

“Oh. Who would send curses at you?”

“Maybe Tamara, she’s rather mad at me.”

Evie stopped walking to stare at me. “Sigil? That’s not good.”

“You know her?”

“No. But I saw her once in the cafeteria - I don’t always eat in my room,” she added defensively.

“That’s where I encountered her too,” I said. “It didn’t go so well.” The understatement of the year award goes to the seriously cranky temperamental redhead. Talk about fitting the damn stereotype.

“Her pendant,” Evie was saying. “It’s evil.”

“The black opal thing?”

She perked up. “You’ve seen it? I tried to ask Leland about it and he said she wasn’t wearing one. But she totally was.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it too. Maybe it’s invisible to people who can’t sense or see magic? And you’re right, it felt odd to me. But evil?”

She nodded. “Like me and what I do. Evil. I can feel it.”

I couldn’t help it, I pulled her into a hug. “Evie, sweetie - you’re not evil.”

She didn’t resist, but she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s okay to say it. It’s what I am.”

I hugged her tighter. “No, it’s not. What you’ve been through - that’s evil. But you aren’t. You don’t want to project those things, you don’t want to hurt people.”

She squirmed her way out of my embrace. Looking up with those dark eyes she gently touched my cheek. “You’re really nice. Naive, but nice.” With that she took my hand again and led us back to our dorm.

I was quiet for the rest of the walk. For the life of me, I didn’t know how to respond to that.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Evie decided she wanted to sit in her room and watch Netflix for the rest of the day, and while she said I was welcome to stay I could tell she was hoping for some alone time.

If she was feeling my roller-coaster emotions I couldn’t blame her for that.

In any case, Mrs. Cantrel had a message waiting for me: I was to report to Kane Hall at one o’clock to take the Mathematics placement test and following that English Composition. At two and a half hours each I had a feeling they were going to be rather thorough.

Seeing as how it was now only ten in the morning, that gave me a few hours until they started. But after being late yesterday I decided on an early lunch and after I’d just go straight to the exam room and wait.

I did run upstairs to grab a book first, and while I knew I should start reading the ones on biblical lore that Soren had sent, I decided they could bloody well wait and grabbed something else instead. I was definitely not ready yet to think about such things. Thus I selected an old Heinlein favorite: I Will Fear No Evil.

It was an appropriate choice all things considered.

Armed with the paperback, I hustled back to the cafeteria - all the while trying to remain vigilant for any energetic magical interferences.

Lunch, if you must know, consisted of a delightful tortilla soup with chicken, vegetables, cheese, and just enough spice for it to be interesting. Complementing the soup were a pair of crunchy beef taquitos and sour cream. I hadn’t expected New Hampshire to have good Mexican food; the Crystal Hall certainly delivered the variety.

It was on the short walk to Kane Hall that I felt something, yet couldn’t figure out where to look. And sure enough, the sprinkler system for the surrounding lawn kicked on full - with the sprinkler heads all ‘mysteriously’ misaligned to aim at the walking paths.

I wasn’t the only student who got hit by the sudden rogue streams either as we all scrambled full speed off the paths and onto the areas of the lawn where the sprinklers now failed to reach.

Two students even ignored it all entirely - I saw water divert itself in a simple curve around one of them and just bounce off some kind of forcefield surrounding the other.

The flag today was a verdant green after all.

Taking refuge in Kane Hall, I eventually found the exam room on the second floor. Being that it was still occupied by a class and the clock in the hallway showed over an hour to wait, I did what I used to do all those years ago at my old school: I parked my butt on the floor against a wall and began to read my book.

Of course back then I didn’t have to hold the book out far enough so the new shelf on my chest wouldn’t block it, or have to sit cross-legged with a skirt carefully tucked under to avoid flashing anyone passing by. Also as I turned the pages, I found I could conjure up the images in perfect detail of all the pages from my original copy of the book.

That was somewhat depressing. I no longer needed to have a library to keep all the books I’ve read, they’d just collect dust. Out of stubbornness I continued to read along with the one I held in my hands. Even still, I finished the entire book before it was time to go on in.

As for the math exam itself, it proved to be more challenging than I had expected. They weren’t testing for high school level math - this thing went straight to college calculus and beyond with a single targeted question on each possible special topic. You know, stuff I hadn’t done in years plus others I had never taken the classes for. Fair enough.

Being able to recall previous textbooks along with their examples helped a great deal. I know for certain I would have done miserably on it two weeks ago before the changes. But as I was now, anything I’d encountered I was able to solve - along with a couple problems I’d never seen prior. I was still working on one of those when time was called and I had to put down the pencil.

After a five minute break I was given the English Composition exam. This one required reading a number of passages, then madly scribbling a set of very short essays about the contents - all within the two and a half hours. My old high school had provided a very rigorous English curriculum so I had the requisite practice in taking a five page idea and presenting it in only one. It’s harder than it sounds to do properly.

Oh, and one thing that had absolutely not improved was my penmanship. If anything it had gotten worse as thoughts kept out-pacing the writing hand. I hoped the teachers here could decipher the frenetic scratchings on the paper.

If not, they should have let me type it into a laptop.

It was past six when I finally escaped and returned to the cafeteria for dinner (stuffed salmon on a bed of rice, with a Greek salad). I spotted Tamara and Erica leaving through a different entrance as I arrived, so I ate quickly to try and get back to Hawthorne before Tamara could start playing with her scrying crystal again at my expense.

Unless, of course, someone else was responsible and trying to frame Tamara for it all, but I couldn’t think of any other likely suspects.

Jenna was waiting for me in the first floor lounge as I jogged through the main doors.

“Jordan! About time, girl. We only have an hour to get ready.”

“Get ready?” I asked, confused. “For what?”

“Movie night at Emerson! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Brendan’s invitation already.”

Her grin was ear to ear and another passing girl (who had hands and feet more akin to claws than anything human-like) exclaimed, “Ooh! Jordan has a date with Tank!”

“It’s not a date!” I professed loudly, but from the giggles of everyone around I don’t think they believed me. Ugh.

“Let’s get a move on,” Jenna said. “Because we are so going to do something about that hair of yours. It’s been stuck in that boring ponytail long enough. To the showers! And on the way we need to pick out what you’re going to wear, and decide on makeup to match…”

Like a lamb to a colorful fashion slaughter I was led upstairs.

 

~o~O~o~

 

We both arrived at Emerson about twenty minutes past eight, or ‘fashionably late’ according to Jenna. I disagreed - and had spent a good part of the last thirty minutes protesting arriving at anything other than the appointed hour.

I will admit, though, that we both looked great.

Jenna was wearing her blonde wig along with an azure off-the-shoulder top that tucked into some of the tightest black jeans I think I’d ever seen. As it was a ‘movie night’ she informed me that we should go ‘casual dressy’, as if I should understand what the hell that meant. All I knew was that she looked fantastic.

My bare wardrobe and its lack of options had given her pause, and I had to explain that with my recent transformation nothing of my old stuff fit anymore so I was rebuilding my wardrobe from scratch. She selected my lowest cut purple top, a pair of jeans, and even called a friend downstairs to see if I could borrow their leather boots. Amazingly they fit - Jenna had guessed my shoe size correctly. The heels were higher than I was used to, but not obnoxiously so.

She also made me wear a pair of clip-on earrings that dangled a single golden feather from each ear. Staring in the mirror I’d been forced to agree that they were very pretty and made my eyes stand out more. She said she had a lot of clip-on earrings due to regeneration constantly healing over any piercings whenever she’d taken out the studs.

I got to skate by on not having my ears pierced using that excuse too. Phew. And lack of earrings got explained away because I claimed I had given them away.

No necklaces, rings, and being utterly clueless about makeup was a lot harder to get away with. She didn’t comment on any of that, much to my relief. She just sat me down and put stuff on my face. I think she picked up on it being a touchy personnel subject and was kind enough not to pry. And thanks to Mrs. Shugendo I at least had a basic makeup kit on hand for her to use.

But it was my hair that made us late.

After insisting I wash it - with shampoo and then again with conditioner - we struggled to get it dry. After spending at least fifteen minutes with a hair dryer and a brush, she muttered that my hair must have been made out of sponges.

Once it was dry to her satisfaction, she braided it - another time consuming process. My hair was transformed into braids that formed near my temples, pulled back in the semblance of a circlet, only to merge with a larger braid that started at the back of my head and lay down over the rest of the loose strands. This allowed most of it to hang free, and yet kept it out of my face and eyes. She said it was a variation of a ‘French braid’ and that I should learn how to do it or similar myself.

I had a deep feeling that Jenna really missed having her own hair to style, so I couldn’t object too much to her taking the extra time to work with mine. Just, you know, mutter the occasional comment. Ahem.

And it really did lend an elegance to how I looked, especially after she expertly, yet minimally, applied touches of blush to my cheekbones and a hint of purple around my eyes.

Jenna commented that with my height and hers, there wasn’t a nightclub in the country that would card us. I didn’t debate her, not because I thought we really looked over twenty-one, but because I knew how nightclubs worked when it came to allowing attractive women past their entrance ropes.

You know, ones like us. Something that was still tripping me up inside.

The house mother of Emerson, a Mrs. Tolliver, greeted us as we went in - and at the same time gave us a good looking over.

“You both are from Hawthorne, correct?” the dark-skinned and rather slender woman asked while raising an eyebrow - one that was losing the battle against grey invaders.

“Yes ma’am,” Jenna answered. “Brendan invited us to watch movies with the guys tonight.”

“Hmm. Very well, but if either of you begin to show symptoms of any afflictions or power issues, report it immediately. Understood?”

We both nodded. The other eyebrow rose to match its siblings, so together we quickly said, “Yes ma’am!”

“You can visit the lounge and the theater, but girls are not allowed upstairs or to any student rooms.” Her glare made it clear this was a rule not open to negotiation.

Another verbal acknowledgment and she called out loudly to their lounge, “Brendan Rogers, your guests have arrived.”

I swear the hallway looked like it belonged more to a hobbit-hole than a regular building as Brendan’s seven-foot-plus frame filled it. Dang, the kid was big.

He also was standing there awkwardly with eyes bugging out as if we’d grown extra heads or something.

“What?” I asked, annoyed. Jenna elbowed me in the ribs. “Ow!”

Stumbling over his words Brendan said, “Uh, hi…wow…you both are, uhm, really pretty…”

Oh. Ohhh.

The poor tongue-tied boy was rescued by Jenna. “Hiya, Brendan! Thanks again for the invite, so which way is the theater?” She smiled warmly at him.

Even with the prompt he was still lost. “Theater?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You know, where people watch movies? You may have heard of those.”

“Movie night!” His eyes brightened as if receiving a revelation. “You’re here for movie night!”

I couldn’t help it; I started laughing. Had I been this awkward around attractive girls when I was his age? Dear God, I hope I hadn’t been this bad. Jenna shoved her elbow into my side again.

“You bet!” she said cheerily. “Just lead the way!”

“Oh, uh, right! Follow me!” He turned and waved us down the hall after him.

Jenna grabbed my arm to pull me along, whispering fiercely into my ear as she did so. “Quit it! He’s sweet!”

That’s when it hit me and I put two and two together. One glance at her face as she was drooling over his rather fit rear end confirmed the thought. I mentally promised I’d behave. Teasing her later, though, oh that was so on!

We reached a set of double doors opening into a small theater. It had four rows lined with plush couches all on a gentle decline towards the screen. A digital projection system could be seen above the entrance, and speakers lined the walls.

Many of the seats were already occupied by other boys - a few of which whistled loudly as Jenna and I came in. “Hey, girls!”

Brendan straightened to his full intimidating height. “Guys, this is Jenna and Jordan. They’re my guests.” His tone left the other boys no doubt that he would not put up with any shenanigans where either me or Jenna were concerned.

They got the message, in fact a couple of them cleared out of one of the three-seat couches in the middle of the room - obviously the best spot for viewing the screen.

Brendan led us to that couch, and suppressing a grin I deliberately pulled me and Jenna down so she would be sitting between me and him. Poor guy had been hoping to sit between us both, but he gallantly took his spot next to Jenna.

I caught his eyes wandering over her again, and noted how his strong facial features softened with perhaps new considerations.

Nestling into the soft couch, I had an idea. Turning to my left, I spoke to a short-haired blonde kid who was busy futzing with a phone. “Hey, I was promised popcorn for this. You all have any?”

The guy looked up, startled that I’d even talk him I guess. “Uh, yeah? In the kitchen probably.”

“Cool! Get me some, okay?” I smiled sweetly at him.

He blinked, but scrambled to his feet without protest.

“And some for Jenna and Brendan too! Plus napkins!” I called out as he headed to fetch my request.

Grinning to myself at how easy that was to get away with, I popped out the built-in foot rest thing and settled into proper lounging position.

Being a girl may have some perks after all!

 

~o~O~o~

 

As promised by Brendan they started up the first of the Prophecy movies. I’d seen them all before many years ago and had liked them despite their low budget and cheesiness. Eric Stoltz was great as a creepy yet loyal angel, Viggo Mortensen near the end portrayed a disturbing and subtle Lucifer, and of course Christopher Walken had obviously enjoyed the heck out of stealing every scene he was in.

In retrospect I really should have thought through what the subject matter was before agreeing (even if reluctantly) to go. The protagonist was a cop who had years prior lost his faith when on the verge of taking priestly vows - not because of doubt, but because right then and there he had suffered a vision.

He’d seen a mere glimpse of angels dying, their feathers splattered with blood.

In my previous viewings this only served the director’s desired effect of offering dramatization to the horror of angelic wars and also amplifying empathy for the main character. But this time it hit me viscerally.

I even muttered a quiet, ‘No!’

Fortunately that scene was over quick. As the film moved on I tried to shake it off while inwardly wrestling with growing unease. I don’t think Jenna noticed.

What I couldn’t get over was watching Walken, in his unique and admirable style, portray Gabriel as ruthless, uncaring, and yes, evil.

Have you ever met someone new and had a sharp intuitive understanding about them? Like that they should be avoided at all costs, or the flip side, that you immediately trusted for no conscious reasons whatsoever? It was kind of like that. I’d seen these movies, heck I’d enjoyed them greatly, but watching it now something in me was screaming deep inside.

It was wrong.

Biting my lip, I kept arms tightly crossed to prevent any damage to the couch I might cause by accident. Every time Walken was referred to as Gabriel, I wanted to yell at the screen that ‘No! She’s not like that!’ - and yet I had no idea why I should think such, let alone so strongly that I wanted to shout and weep.

When Walken set Stoltz’ angelic character of Simon aflame, I whimpered. And when the cop and the teacher caught a glimpse of the ruins of an angelic battlefield full of angels impaled on spikes screeching their dying agonies, I couldn’t take anymore.

Uneaten popcorn fell to the floor as I flipped the footrest away and jumped to my feet. While running out the doors I heard Jenna call my name - but I couldn’t stop.

From within the depths of my subconscious something had stirred, and as I burst out into the summer night’s rain a memory reached up and pulled me under.

 

The Light. I reached for the Light, reaching to be cleansed, to let my sorrows be washed away in the purity and the brilliance. Peace and serenity were within my grasp, all interrupted by a voice, tender and warm, conveying not just words but an unspoken apology.

“Not yet, young one,” whispered into my mind and I was somewhere else.

There was a room empty of all furnishings, walls white and bare. Yet I was not alone: before me stood a woman dressed in a flowing opalescent gown.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Light red hair dangled over a shoulder, perfect emerald eyes rested upon sublime features, and behind her stretched gloriously white-feathered wings.

Her true beauty was not from her looks, gorgeous as she was. It shone from within, through her soft expression and tender eyes, for to look into her gaze was to know she loved you - a love unconditional and utterly without reservation.

Falling to knees in supplication to such a love, I asked her who she was. She took my hand in hers to raise me back to my feet and answered. When I heard the name - spoken in a language unlike any other and yet somehow being like all of them - I experienced the meaning directly with all the overwhelming compassion it contained.

She was Gabriel. She was the Strength of the Creator’s Love to all things.

I understood then that I must have perished, and by knowing I remembered how. She pulled me close, wrapping me with arms and wings as sorrow ripped through my heart.

I had failed. And in so failing, Danielle must have joined me in death.

“There is still time for her,” the angel said, and her mercy and tenderness granted more support than her embrace. “But only a single precious moment.”

“How? I was incinerated beyond even ash, by now she would be the same-”

“Shh. Worry not about time, and ask not of ‘how’. These are not important, not to us. Instead ask ‘why’, why should you return?”

“She’ll die otherwise.”

“All people do. Just as you have.”

“She doesn’t deserve to die so young! It’s just wrong!”

“Nature and the world is neither fair nor unfair, it simply is.”

“I don’t care. I need her to live…she has to…”

“Why?”

“Because if she dies my heart will shatter - I can’t bear it. I can’t.”

She kissed my forehead and floated apart. “Then hold onto that purpose with all that you can muster and go. Return - save your heart by saving hers.”

Over her shoulder an archway lead to a bright yet cloud-filled sky, one with buildings and towers rising above them. And beyond that too I could feel and see the Light I had wanted so badly to reach before she had pulled me aside to this place.

But that’s not where I was needed. She said I could save Danielle, and I believed her. Wrapping that need around and through myself, I stepped backwards off a ledge I had not noticed was there.

As I fell away from her and that Light, she whispered one last thing.

“Go, save as many hearts as you can, and in so doing you may also save my own…”

I tore attention away from her and the brilliance behind to look below, seeing there in the far distance a little girl strapped unconscious to a chair. Between me and her stretched a barrier of infinite symbols, forged of multi-colored interlocked energies waiting to catch me and blocking any path. Compared to that immense impermeable net stretching over the entire world I was tiny and insignificant.

Harnessing my need and desire with all that I was or could be, a heat surged into the space between my shoulders. I was no longer falling - no, I was flying full throttle towards the barrier standing between me and where I must go.

With a wordless cry of sheer will I punched right through.

 

Chapter Twenty-One - Crystallization

 

Heavy scent of grass, of mud, and of the perfume Jenna had spritzed onto my neck filled my nostrils. Wet earth pressed cool moisture against knees while free-falling drops from above did the same across my back. Out of the cloud-covered sky the shrill skree of a hawk echoed across the school like an oracle’s unheeded warning, the sound of feathers beating against the wind registered its passing.

The senses were all so clear and yet so distant - the impressions of a world possibly no longer my own.

The rain was helpless to cleanse such a thought, for closed eyes saw only the afterimage of the angel dominating their inner vision: Gabriel. I had met the Archangel Gabriel. And she had sent me back.

Because I had died.

Not ‘almost’, not ‘oh that was too close for comfort’, not ‘gee don’t do that again or else’. No, it was Death with a capital ‘D’, passed over and on, heading upwards into the eternity of the Light I had been channeling since that return from beyond.

Jenna called my adopted name, the sound merging with another piercing cry from the hawk. The spikes of her heels squished the ground as she ran across the lawn, then hands were on my shoulders and she was asking me if I was alright.

Was I?

Even with Rabbi Kirov’s office wards confirming the nature of my spirit, it still hadn’t seemed real. God, angels, heaven - these were descriptions of things from stories, from paintings and statues, from television and films. They weren’t things of my experience, not directly, and with all the astounding abilities I had seen not only from Danielle but from so many of the other kids at this school it had been all too easy to mentally lump myself in as just another meta or mutant: enhanced yet human. Intellectually I had grasped enough of what Kirov and others had been trying to tell me, yet acceptance had not sunk in. Maybe in bits and pieces, but not in the entirety.

Losing my home, almost losing Danielle, and losing my old profession had been hard enough to handle - but this? Other than all the concerns for the safety of others when it came to these abilities - ones that threatened by their very nature to place my destiny in hands other than mine - all had been pushed aside and not faced nor absorbed.

But Kirov and Louis were correct, even if I hadn’t wanted to hear or acknowledge it. I had expired. Kicked the bucket. Justin Thorne truly was dead and gone, his life finished and his reported demise not just a convenient cover-story but undeniable fact. And I was only his spirit projected somehow back through the veil that separates the living and the dead.

Brendan chased after Jenna, his feet impacting the ground in thundering steps as if an irresistible momentum was being fought off by stubborn unyielding earth. Over the rising wind he asked her what had happened. She answered, but I had stopped listening.

Lips parted instead to invite the rain to drip onto my tongue. A taste of running mascara, lipstick, and salty tears. A flavor which when examined drove the truth of the changes deeper into a heart trying to match the frenetic beat of a hummingbird’s wings.

An internal dam burst from that jackhammering inside my chest, shattering the strange dissociative perception and scattering it to the sky.

“I can’t go back!” With a shrill cry I fell forward into Jenna’s arms. She held me, letting my muddy and grasping hands stain her top while I sobbed.

“Go back? Back where?” Brendan asked with confusion.

I could answer nothing. Because whether I had meant back home to my old life or back to the sublime tranquility and peace I had been so close to attaining within that Light before the angel had interrupted my passage, I didn’t know.

“The movie - did it trigger something?” His concern was laced with all the frustrations of an aspiring hero: wanting to help, but feeling lost from not knowing what to do.

I recognized the feeling all too well.

“It must have,” Jenna replied. “Jordan…?”

“Gabriel,” I muttered quietly. “She’s not like the movie. She’s not like that at all.”

They both stiffened, but it was Brendan who gave voice to the skepticism. “You…you’ve met the angel Gabriel?”

Sniffling, I straightened and tried to wipe my nose. “I died. She caught me. I didn’t remember it - not until now. She…she’s the most loving person I’ve ever met. Ever. I can’t even put it into words. The movie, it was so wrong, so very wrong about her…”

Jenna looked at me in shock. “Wait. You died?”

Brendan, his face also paling, fumbled in a pocket to produce a white handkerchief and handed it to me.

I took it gratefully, only to blow my nose and probably stain the cloth forever with the stuff painted upon my face. Staring off into the dark trees beyond the grass, I just nodded. “The rabbi and Louis figured that out today. I didn’t want to think about it. But…when I manifested…I died first. All dead, not even ‘only mostly dead.’” I wanted to laugh at the quote, but only a strangled whimper came out.

“How…?” Poor Brendan, he didn’t know what questions to ask or whether he should even believe me.

Jenna stared at me, an unspoken question hanging in her eyes, and I knew what she wanted to ask.

“Go ahead,” I muttered softly. “It’s okay.”

Nodding, she then looked back up at Brendan. “Jordan is an angel herself. They hit her with that too.”

Comprehension struck. “Then the movie…with Walken…and the dying angels…oh shit.”

I choked up again, I couldn’t help it. “I didn’t think about it, you know, when it started. I should have - I mean, I’ve seen it before, years ago. I just-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jenna put her hands back on my shoulders.

“I ruined your movie night, I’m sorry.” Tears fought to escape my eyes yet again.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it!” Brendan said with forced cheer. “There’ll be another one next Friday - and I’ll make sure it’s about something totally different! You know, like a comedy, how ‘bout Ghostbusters? That’s a classic! Wait, that’s got ghosts and spirits, uh…Dogma? Shit, that’s even worse…”

He kept failing to think of something non-related to spirit things, and the obvious distress at his mental lock got me to chuckle in spite of myself. Jenna stood, offering me a hand. I took it, and she hauled me back onto my feet with ease.

“Constantine? No, uh…Hellboy?” Brendan was still trying.

Jenna punched his shoulder with her free hand. “Give it up, ya goof!”

I snickered my way through another sniffle and complained, “Now you’ve got me crying and giggling at the same time!”

He smiled. “Then I’d suggest focusing on the laughing part - otherwise I’m going to run out of ideas!”

Well heck, the boy was much sharper than I’d given him credit for. He’d done it on purpose!

I shook my head. “You two should go back and finish the marathon.”

“Nope, I’m walking you back to Hawthorne,” Jenna said firmly.

“But-”

“No buts, Jordan,” she said. “Sorry Brendan, but we’ll have to take a rain check until next week.”

His face fell, but then brightened. “Hey - that’s two rain checks you owe me, Jordan. Both given while standing in actual rain. So you’re totally on the hook for two more movie nights!”

I smiled wearily. Emotionally I felt drained, but if that eased the roller coaster I was okay with that. “Fine, but Jenna is stuck too.”

His eyes looked over Jenna appreciably. “How awful it will be to have both of you lovely ladies returning to grace my poor unworthy dorm. Yep, awful.”

Jenna blushed furiously and didn’t say anything.

“Thanks, Brendan,” I said. “And again…I’m sorry my weird crap interrupted an otherwise fun evening.”

He shrugged it off. “No worries - we here at this school thrive on ‘weird crap’, I’ll have you know. Oh - and keep the handkerchief. I’ve got plenty!” He grinned. “G’nite ladies!”

“Goodnight!” Jenna and I said together.

Brendan waved before sprinting back towards his dorm and the shelter it provided from the downpour.

Jenna, watching his rear end while he ran, found and squeezed my hand. “Let’s get you back to your kitty and out of this weather.”

 

~o~O~o~

 

After taking a longer look at the mess of makeup the rain and tears had made of my face, Jenna suggested we take the long route back to Hawthorne - a path that avoided going through the main quad for all to see. Instead we cut further across the lawn and through some trees to navigate our way more in the dark. Being already rather drenched, she commented that a little more water wasn’t going to harm either of us at this point.

Overhead I again heard a hawk’s cry and even caught a glimpse of its shadow coasting above the trees.

“How many hawks live around here, anyway?” I asked, finding myself curious.

“Hmm? Oh.” She looked up. “A few I think, though I think Zap has claimed the campus as his own territory and drives any others away.”

“Zap?”

“Remember what I told you about others having it worse than us? Zap was a freshman a few years ago, like before I got here. Story has it that he had some issue with his dreams, and Lodgeman - he’s one of the trustees - tried to help. He put Zap through a sweat-lodge and prepared him for some kind of vision-quest thing. It didn’t go very well.”

“How so?”

“In the middle of his vision-trance, Zap screamed, turned into a hawk, and flew off.”

“Huh. So he can shapeshift to a hawk? That doesn’t sound that bad.”

She gave me a look. “Seriously? He’s never shifted back. He’s been a hawk for years now. Have you met Lieutenant Forsyth?”

I nodded. “Yeah?”

“Those scars on his arms? That’s from trying to catch the bird. I’ve even heard that Zap escapes any traps they put out for him. Lodgeman issued an edict to leave the hawk alone, as anything they tried just made things worse.”

As if to agree with her the hawk screeched again. He seemed to be pacing us.

“Is there…is there anything human left in him?” An image of the bird happily bobbing his head on my balcony came to mind, and my face reddened deeply with the realization I had been flashing not just a bird but a student. Oh geeze.

“Maybe? No one really knows. But a lot of us leave treats out for him sometimes. And his stuff is supposed to still be in a room in Poe; Lodgeman insisted Zap’s student status be retained. His school ID sits on an empty bed that waits for him, apparently.” She stopped walking abruptly. “Damn. I forgot it.”

“What?”

Jenna sheepishly scrunched her face. “I left my purse in Emerson when I ran after you. It has my ID.”

“Well crud. If Brendan doesn’t go back to the movie, no one will notice until after the marathon is over - and who knows how late that will be.”

“Yeah. Uh…”

I tried to smile reassuringly. “Go get it. I’m okay.” She glowered at me so I had to fess up. “Alright, alright. I’m not, not really, but that’s not going to fix itself with only a few minutes of thinking or good friends. More like months of serious introspection mixed with shouting. I only meant I’m not about to break down and freak out again right at this very moment. And if you want, I’ll just stand here and listen to the hawk for a bit until you get back.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” I laughed lightly. “Without that ID you aren’t getting any breakfast. And I don’t want that on my conscience.”

Jenna reached down to remove her shoes. “I’ll be faster without these damn spikes. Even if they aren’t that tall, they’re kinda hard to run in. Here.” She handed them to me. “I’ll be right back!”

With that she took off at a jog back towards Emerson, leaving me standing in the rain holding a muddy pair of heels.

I sighed, looking down at the wet smears adorning my own clothes. The hawk cried again, sounding closer.

“Think they have laundry facilities I can use in the middle of the night?” I asked him once I caught sight of his feathery outline.

He circled right above where I stood, impressive wingspan revealed by shadows and light filtering through the trees cast from distant lamp-posts. A louder screech this time. And another. He was yelling at me, getting more and more insistent.

“What?” I shouted back at him. “What’s your deal? I don’t have any treats, if that’s what you want!”

He swooped past right in front of me, emitting another ear-piercing cry as his answer.

That’s when it hit me. I was standing alone, off the path amongst dimly lit trees, heading to an obvious destination.

And I wasn’t scanning for any magical interferences.

With growing unease I threw open that inner vision and hastily glanced about.

Fiercely bright energetic symbols lit up the ground and the trees all around me - with more forming even as I watched. Reaching out with my senses to one nearby, with the silly hope that maybe I could disarm it (don’t ask how, as I had no clue either), I got a quick electrical shock and caught a whiff of ozone.

When I heard the rumble of distant thunder the purpose of the runes became all too clear.

“Oh SHIT!”

Unlike Jenna, I didn’t jog. I ran.

 

~o~O~o~

 

We raced through the trees - me on my feet and the hawk above with his wings. After making a break between a gap in the sigils, I hoped to be safe - but those hopes were quickly dashed.

The damn marks were sliding along the ground behind me giving chase. Worse still, new ones kept popping up in front of whatever direction I turned.

“Aw c’mon! That’s just not fair!”

The hawk screeched agreement.

I was reminded of playing capture the flag when I was little, spinning and dodging the menacing symbols like I had done so long ago to avoid the reach of other kids trying to grab at the cloth strips on my belt. But with as much as I ran and weaved, the pattern of the wads of energy was confusing and didn’t make sense. With their speed at least one should have been able to slide under my feet and do its thing.

But they didn’t.

It wasn’t until I burst my way out into a grassy clearing that I discovered I’d been seriously played. I’d been herded to the field before Hawthorne where a whole cluster of the damn things lay waiting.

Tamara (or whoever was behind it) didn’t want to hit me with just one, she wanted a ton of them. Each may not have been a lot of energy individually, but together? Who knows how strong an effect that would trigger. And here I was trapped while more behind spilled out to complete the boundaries of a circle that started spiraling around with me at the center.

The thought of trying to jump over them flashed through my mind, but no - once clumped their spinning velocities were way too fast. They were going to converge under me no matter what and unlike the hawk I couldn’t fly my way out of this.

“Fuck this!” I shouted and reached within to flood myself with as much of that inner energy as I could grab and shove through my body. If I was going to get nailed, I was going to be ready. Even if just to try to survive and heal.

I lit up like a lighthouse beacon as all those crazy symbols and weird short lines coalesced into a wide circle under my feet. The hairs on the back of my arms and neck stood up and a tremendous charge built in the air leading upward into the sky.

Ah crud. I was right. I was about to be struck by lightning.

I threw hands over my head, I dunno, maybe with the idea I could redirect it or something. Though that likely just made me an even better antenna.

A flash of electrical light brighter than my physical eyes had ever directly witnessed blinded me, and the immediate punch of thunder slammed into me like a steamroller, knocking me on my ass.

But the lightning hadn’t touched me. What the hell?

To my astonishment, suspended above me was Zap: glowing blue with dancing and sparking power.

Holy shit. He had done it! He caught the damn lightning!

His triumphant shriek split the night like a cymbal crash to the thunder’s drum, and with feathers burning and crackling with electric power, he beat his wings and blasted the energy up over the trees, tracing a path of azure fire in its wake.

There, along that path at the edge of the lawn, I saw the electrical residue forming a small hovering sphere. Behind the fading white-blue sparkles I caught a flicker of alternate colors and had a moment of intuition.

Throwing my own energy like a whip with a wordless shout, I connected to that anomalous manifestation.

 

A huge wooden surface spilled out around, its colors awash with shifting purples, reds, and blues. Perceptual context fell into place - the surface was a desktop, and it wasn’t changing colors - only the spherical bubble which bound me fast I was looking through. A giant loomed overhead, a giant with dark hair hanging like curtains around the multi-hued prison, with angry eyes burning like emeralds. A large black opal dangled within view, secure on a silver cord wrapped around the giant’s neck.

The giant’s face was sallow and worn - dark circles smeared under hate-filled eyes. Tamara’s eyes.

“What have you done?” she raged.

I was unable to move or speak, I might not have had any form at all.

“Get out! Get out of my crystal!” Her shouting grew panicked and she stumbled away from the desk.

My vision spanned full circle. A massive math book lay open nearby, a poster of a forest was on the wall behind the desk, an unmade bed mirrored another whose flowery green comforter lay all bunched into one corner, a second empty desk, and Tamara herself shaking from over-exertion as she retreated in horror, knocking over the small chair she had been sitting on.

Without thinking I did the only thing I could: I started pulling in more power.

“No! Stop!”

Ignoring her protests, I pushed that energy into the crystal-forged cage, feeling it out as I did so. There was a small flaw in one spot on the bottom, likely placed this way so it would be hidden from the casual viewer.

With an effort of will I focused on that spot, shoving hard into the imperfection.

There was a sharp crack and like a burst fire hydrant it blasted me out.

 

“Jordan? What the hell!”

I was flat on my ass in front of Hawthorne. The lawn was flattened in a wide circle all around, and was smoldering. Blinking, I looked up and saw Jenna.

“What were you thinking?” She shouted, even as she offered me yet another hand up. “Playing with lightning? That’s insane!”

“Wasn’t me,” I said, handing back her shoes. Somehow I hadn’t dropped them. Go me?

“Then what the…? I can’t leave you alone for even a minute!”

I was going to try and explain but she stopped me. “Save it until we get inside.”

Oh. Huh. Rain was now flooding everything in a torrential downpour. I hadn’t even noticed.

She pushed me towards the doors to dryer (and hopefully safer) surroundings. Before I went inside I paused and turned back towards the trees.

“Thanks Zap! I owe you one!” I yelled to the sky, not caring who heard.

A single distant shriek gave reply.

Satisfied, I stepped on in. Jenna stood there dripping puddles over the floor, arms crossed.

“Okay, girl. Talk.”

 

~o~O~o~

 

We ended up in my room. After changing into my bathrobe I gave Jenna a basic rundown of previous events and the suspicions they had generated. Then I pulled Penelope into the video chat app thing - I didn’t feel like describing events twice and I knew I wanted Penelope’s insight. It didn’t take long to describe my crazy run through the trees, miraculous rescue by a crazily powered hawk, and quick prison escape from inside a crystal ball.

“Holy shit, Jordan. Do you have any idea how much a scrying crystal like hers is worth?” Penelope gasped after hearing how I likely shattered the thing.

Khan, deciding he wasn’t getting enough attention, jumped into my lap and burrowed into the soft fluffy folds of my robe.

“No,” I groaned at Penelope. “I’m going to guess a lot?”

From where she sat on my bed, Jenna piped up. “Think the cost of a Porsche. Maybe more.” I could tell she was unhappy I hadn’t told her about Tamara’s curse-flinging. She had called me stupid for letting her leave me alone outside like that.

How could I argue, though? She was right. I had been stupid. If not for my heroic hawk, I could have been fried. And I wasn’t sure how my whole energy-healing thing would work if I wasn’t consciously focusing to do it. It could have been, uh, bad.

“If you thought she hated you before, this is going to bring it to a whole new level,” Penelope commented.

“So what do I do?” I whined. “Think she’ll go to the administration or try to sue me for the cost?”

Jenna scoffed. “Not likely. That was serious illegal magic usage on her part. She tried to kill you, Jordan! Aren’t you getting that? If anyone should go to the teachers it’s you!”

“And say what?” I retorted. “I have no proof it was her, no witnesses to corroborate anything I could claim other than some poor kid who, by the way, is stuck as a hawk. Random accidents and a blast of lightning in the middle of a thunderstorm isn’t evidence.”

“Fubar could scan her mind and get the truth,” Jenna said.

From the laptop speakers, Penelope spoke up again. “No way. Foob doesn’t scan anyone like that without solid reasons to do so. You’d need evidence of some kind first.”

“And that’s what I don’t have,” I grumbled.

“I’m just surprised she could pull off that kind of spell,” pondered Penelope. “Clever using a lot of little workings leading into one big ol’ kazap magnet, but still. She should have burnt herself out doing that, especially at range even with that crystal of hers helping.”

“She looked awful,” I admitted. “And I probably just made it worse.”

“Why are you feeling guilty?” Jenna asked angrily. “This is attempted murder we’re talking about!”

“Because!” I said hastily, but then got stuck. Wait, that was a good question. “Huh. I don’t really know. Maybe because I triggered it all? Stepping on the toes of her beliefs, and now probably destroying her link to her mother? And everyone has said she hasn’t been like this before - so something else is causing it. Come to think of it, I might have an idea on that.”

I relayed to them what Evie had said about Tamara’s pendant. “Jenna - you ever see her wearing it?” I asked.

“Not like you describe, no.” Jenna shook her head.

“What about you, Penelope?” I glanced at the laptop.

Penelope frowned and I could see she was doing something in a separate window on her computer. “Can’t say that I have. And reviewing what footage I have stored of Tamara from this summer - nothing like that is showing up on any of my video sources. You sure it’s real?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve seen it, and Evie has not only seen it - she’s felt it. If it’s not showing up for others, then it’s got to be magic - and not healthy magic at that.”

“I agree,” Penelope said. “I’ll look into it, see if I can find something out. In the meantime you ought to be safe - after all, pretty sure you busted her crystal. So if she tries anything it’ll have to be in person.”

“And I’m not leaving you alone,” Jenna declared. “You just got yourself a bodyguard. She tries anything and I’m punching her face.”

“That’s not necessary,” I protested.

“Like hell it’s not.” Jenna was unmoved. “Someone has to watch out for you; if you had told me about this earlier I never would have left you alone, and this wouldn’t have happened. She doesn’t want witnesses, that’s pretty clear - and smart of her.”

“Hey - Zap is watching out for me,” I tried to jest, causing her to just glare harder. “Okay, okay, fine. You’re stuck escorting me to whatever other exams or testing they pile on this weekend.”

“And if I can’t go, like on Monday when I have classes, you walk with someone else. I don’t care who - just as long as you aren’t alone.”

I threw my hands up. “Viva La France! I surrender!”

Penelope giggled. “That’s awful. I have friends who are French!”

Khan nudged my fingers which had momentarily stopped scritching. “That reminds me. Penelope? Can Khan stay with you during the day tomorrow and Sunday? They need to do construction on my room.”

She squealed. “Tomorrow? Cool!”

I snickered. “Well yes, cool…but not so cool he freezes, okay?”

“No problem! I’ll keep an eye on him and set up blankets. Bring his toys!”

“Will do - along with his other amenities.”

“Yay! Give me a buzz when you need to drop him off, I’ll be awake! Now lemme go make a few calls and see what I can dig up about that necklace.”

“Sounds good. G’nite Penelope!”

“Goodnight Red!” With another giggle she signed off.

On my bed Jenna raised a still-painted eyebrow that had miraculously escaped being washed away by the rain. “Red? Is that your nickname?” She grinned evilly at the thought.

I groaned again.

If I didn’t have a lap occupied by a cat, I would’ve grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it. That likely would have led to a full on pillow fight, and given our relative strengths the destruction of my pillows.

So darn good thing I had a kitty to save me from such things.

Which reminded me of another animal that had saved my sorry butt. I wondered if I could help him. And would Zap even want me to? I didn’t know, but I decided I had to try anyway.

My thoughts were interrupted by a fluffed pillow connecting with the back of my head.

“Hey, Red! Pay attention, I was asking you something!” Jenna was laughing at me.

With a gentle double tap - the code we had worked out years ago for when I needed him to move - Khan hopped off my lap and allowed me to pick up the fluffy missile from off the floor.

Standing, I turned towards Jenna with fake menace. “That was a big mistake.”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “Prove it!”

With a laugh I extended my weapon and lunged at her. Because hey, come to think of it, I could totally afford new pillows!

 

 

Into The Light (Part 6 of 6)

by Erisian

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Two - Power

 

Saturday and Sunday were a blur. True to her word, Jenna escorted me to each meal plus all the exams they kept throwing at me. In addition to the ones on Friday, they assigned World History, U.S. History (yeah, they made them separate tests), Chemistry (ugh), Biology (double ugh), Physics, Theology, and even Computer Science. Yes, they added a few to the original list Rabbi Kirov had previously rattled off.

By the time I finished the last one I was readily convinced I was an ignorant idiot. Whoever was organizing these damn things was expecting college graduate level knowledge as far as I could tell. And theology, really? Why bother giving me that one? Other than general knowledge from reading the Bible in high school and whatever myths I had enjoyed in my role-playing game years (alright, so at least I had some passing familiarities with a few pantheons), I was fairly lost when it came to the finer questions regarding various sects and their unique interpretations of whatever scriptures their groups had declared to be holy. My exam booklet was entirely blank across vast sections other than a comment I wedged in the middle of a question about Sodom and Gomorrah where I wrote, ‘Angels are real. I met one. She was nice’.

Let’s see them grade that, ha!

We didn’t see Tamara at the cafeteria all weekend, though I did catch sight of Erica a.k.a. ‘Fields’. She glared fierce daggers in my direction, but left me alone otherwise.

Jenna hovering protectively at my side may have accounted for that. My new friend was really taking her ‘bodyguard’ notion seriously. It was both really touching and at the same time kind of annoying, like when she insisted on stepping through doors first to make sure things were ‘clear’ before allowing me to go in too.

We did manage to convince Evie to join us for an early dinner on Saturday when the hall was still mostly empty. She seemed to enjoy it but then also got more anxious as the meal went on. Leland had kept a good eye on how she was holding up, and recognized the symptoms of overload when they started to appear. He had figured, correctly it seemed, that empath overload would probably be a lot like his usual physical sensory ones and therefore he knew exactly what to watch for. Being almost done with our meals anyway we left quickly so Evie could return to Hawthorne and be more comfortable.

My room was mostly off-limits during the day because of all the construction. As for the second circle, the rabbi told me that unfortunately one of the practitioners they required to make the changes had needed to go away for the weekend and wouldn’t be back until the middle of the upcoming week at the earliest. Every night I kept having that frustrating ‘stuck in the fog’ dream, so I was really hoping they could fix it soon. I’d been tempted to just sleep on the floor outside all of their circles but Kirov had strenuously warned that ‘for the safety of the students’ I should always sleep inside Circe’s outer failsafe.

And no, they still wouldn’t tell me what that outer circle of hers was designed to do. I wondered whether they even knew.

But by the end of Sunday the elevator to the attic opened to a simple lobby-like area enclosed by sky-blue painted drywall and a solid oak door that had the standard Hawthorne security keypad stuck next to it. It was biometric and required a fingerprint along with my ID, though I was also given a key I could use in case my ID went missing. I’d lost a small part of the floorspace for my living area, but considering how ridiculously large the attic was I had very little to complain about. The two potted plants in the lobby area were also a nice touch. I’d get some for my room except I was afraid Khan would just eat ‘em.

I’d discovered that with just a sweater and the thicker uniform skirt I could comfortably hang out in Penelope’s room with her and my fuzzy buddy; the cold really didn’t bother either of us. Truth be told, I may not have even needed the sweater, but mentally I knew it was just above freezing in there so I was hesitant to take it off.

Khan loved the attention Penelope gave him all day. His toys were scattered all over her room, and whenever he got tired he’d dive under a pile of woolen blankets that she borrowed from another student. Seeing as it was middle of summer, it’s not like they were using them at the moment anyway.

Penelope herself bounced off the walls with happiness from having him in there with her, really driving home how isolated she was during these warmer months until winter and things got cold enough for her to venture outside again. It may only be getting up to the lower eighties here in the New Hampshire summer, but her body just couldn’t take those kinds of temperatures.

She had explained that her blood was different: it was blue and didn’t have hemoglobin. Instead it had something called hemocyanin that used copper instead of iron to transport the oxygen. This also was what gave her skin its unusual color - she said that Antarctic octopods were like that too, allowing them to survive in oceans at just below freezing temperatures. She said there were other adaptations in her body for the cold, but the blood thing was the main one.

Having totally bombed the biology exam that day I decided it’d be best to take her word for it.

Of more interest was how little she was able to discover about Tamara’s necklace. She emailed Tamara’s friends (who had all gone to their various homes for the summer) and received a response from only one named Rachel. She hadn’t seen it herself, but Tamara had emailed her all excited about how her mother had sent her a present, one that had a jewel which could ‘really help’ her magical studies as well as act as a focus for her practices. Tamara had also lamented that with her mom’s busy social schedule and need to protect her own (even more powerful) crystal, her mom’s orb was put somewhere secure for safe keeping during her trip to Europe - thus they wouldn’t be able to chat other than quick phone calls at odd hours until her mom got back in early September.

The more Penelope told me about Tamara’s mom, an obviously potent Wiccan who lobbied and worked hard on behalf of magical societies of various beliefs, as well as a large collection of environmental movements, the more things didn’t add up. Why would her mom send her something that the strongest (and most troubled) empath I knew would describe as evil? That was a mystery, and a bothersome one.

Oh - and Zap kept lurking out on my balcony each morning. I didn’t flash him anymore, though I don’t think he minded. He just wanted to dance up and down with me for a minute, clothes on or not - it was the bouncing dance that seemed to make him really happy. Saturday night I brought a couple hot dogs back to my room to put out on the balcony for him, and sure enough when I woke up they had disappeared.

I figured I really should get him a steak or something with how he’d saved me the other night, but I first wanted to test if he’d eat anything offered. Now I knew and could plan accordingly.

As for me and recovering from the latest mental shock about the nature of my existence, I tried not to think about it. They’d scheduled me and Evie to go talk to Natalie on Monday morning anyway: Evie first, then me. So as far as I was concerned it could all wait until then.

The universe, of course, didn’t want to give it or me a rest and so as if on cue, way before dawn on Monday morning, I was yanked from yet another annoying foggy dream by the demands of the obnoxious telephone.

 

“Yeah?” Not the most polite of phone greetings, but hey, whoever was calling had it coming for waking me up.

“Jordan? Is that you?” a male voice responded, one that seemed familiar but there was a lot of static or some kind of distortion on the line that made it hard to place.

“Maybe. Who’s this? Do you have any idea what time it is?” I grumped.

“Time? Oh…yeah, my fault. I forgot about the time difference,” he said. “It’s Nick, Nick Wright. Remember me?”

Well duh, of course I remembered him. “Like I’d forget. Jesus, it’s only four a.m. here, what time is it there? And for that matter where the hell are you?”

“Uhm I think it’s late morning here. As for where, I don’t really want to say. Sorry for the quality of the connection, I’m using a satellite phone.”

“So you’re what, just checking in? Or did you find something? Wait, weren’t you supposed to go to Israel?”

“I started there, yeah. As for the first two questions, I think a bit of both. How are you holding up with, uh, everything?”

“Oh I dunno, how would you be doing if you discovered you’d actually died and Gabriel sent you back?”

There was a long pause from the other end. That’s okay, I could wait - after all, I wasn’t paying for the satellite connection.

“You uh, you figured that out?”

“Rabbi Kirov and Mr. Geintz discovered it - that I’d died - and then I remembered a bit of what happened back at the storage unit. Wait a minute. You knew? You bastard!”

“I didn’t…I didn’t want to alarm you with that yet, okay? You had enough to deal with as it was.”

“Dammit, what the hell did you really see? You were there! Did you tell the DPA?” I was furious. How dare he keep that from me!

“No. I didn’t tell them. They would have isolated you even further if they knew. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but please believe me when I say that it was for the best at the time. Really. But why’d you say it was Gabriel who sent you back?”

“Because I saw her on the other side,” I growled.

“Wow. Seriously, wow. That…that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

Ever want to reach through a phone and strangle someone? “Spill it, Wright. I’m tired of the bullcrap.”

“I’ve been investigating…” His voice trailed off, and then right when I was about to yell at him, he spoke again. “Let’s back up. At the storage unit I saw your old body disintegrate into dust by the time you reached Danielle, like I had feared would happen. But then her chair got lifted up by a pulsing bright light - one that slowly took on the outline of a person. And as I watched it layered itself with bone, organs, and muscle before sealing it all with still-glowing skin. It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“The pain,” I stuttered, remembering all too vividly that part.

“Was the pain of a total rebirth.”

“What else?” I demanded. “According to the rabbi, angels aren’t supposed to be here. Like at all.”

“He’s right. It didn’t make sense to me either until now, until you mentioned Gabriel. Because I think I’ve figured out what else Soren’s ritual did.”

I went silent, awkwardly realizing I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know.

He continued anyway. “According to lore angels used to visit here directly, but some bad things happened. That’s not important right now. What’s important is that Gabriel was supposed to have been a main factor in the Host binding our world from any further direct visitations. How and the details I don’t have. But Soren’s ritual, as best as I can determine, was designed not just to pump power into your spirit but was also made to weaken that barrier in that place. It was all incredibly complex and powerful, yet by itself it couldn’t actually puncture it - just weaken it.”

The multicolored and infinite barrier came back to my mind. It had seemed impermeable, yet I had plunged through - deliberately aiming for back into the storage unit, back to Danielle.

Holy shit.

I swallowed “I did it. Gabriel caught me and then let me go back, and I punched through.”

“You? Gabriel didn’t do it, didn’t push you through?”

“No. She just watched me go.”

I heard him curse and fumble his phone, and I flinched at the loud impact of it hitting the ground. While he tried to pick it up I could just make out over the line as he mumbled to himself. “…impossible, only Gabriel’s pattern could open it, even weakened like that…”

“What was that, Nick?”

“I said…I said that’s not possible, but obviously it is. Which means I have a lot more research to do. I have one more lead to pursue right now based on the kind of script Soren used at key places in his ritual setup. Because if I’m right, that script is not supposed to exist anywhere since the Tower of Babel happened.”

“You aren’t making sense again.”

“Sorry, sorry. I promise it’ll all be clear eventually - one way or the other. But right now you have got to promise me not to tell anyone, especially Rabbi Kirov, what you saw on the other side. You don’t need that headache.”

“Headache?”

“You don’t need religious nuts fighting over interpretations of your return. If you aren’t careful they could label you a new Messiah or something.”

“Oh shit.” My stomach sank, familiar butterflies taking flight yet again.

“Don’t worry, you aren’t. At least, I’m pretty sure you aren’t anyway. I’ll know more if I can chase down this last lead - especially if I can uncover who Soren actually is. He’s much older than I thought, than pretty much anybody thought.”

“So what do I do?” I asked plaintively. You’d think my head would be used to this crap by now, but no, it was freaking out like usual.

“Just chill and take classes at the school. Make sure to take Circe’s ‘Mythic History’ class; there’s probably stuff in there useful for you to know.”

“Circe? Did they tell you that she put a special circle around the other two surrounding my bed? No one will tell me what it does; she just called it a ‘failsafe.’”

“Really? Can you describe it to me? I can’t receive images with this thing.”

Stretching the anachronistic telephone cord to its limits, I walked around my bed and tried to give details of what I could see of that outermost circle and, when he asked, what I felt from it.

“If I try and power up a little it feels like it wants to, I dunno, pull the energy from me. It’s weird. If I stand inside the center circle, though, that doesn’t happen.”

“Gimme a minute to think,” he responded. I did so as patiently as I could. “I think I know what it is,” he said at last. “Failsafe, huh? Holy shit, yeah, okay. Understatement, but okay.”

“Tell me, dammit!” Okay, so patience had reached its limit. Can you blame me?

“No easy way to put this, but if you were to pull more energy into that space than would be safe for the building, the campus, or the world? I’m pretty sure that circle would cut you adrift from reality before the energy could get too far.”

I choked. “And…and then what?”

“Uh, unless you could navigate between realms, you’d likely be stuck. But everyone else would be safe. Really smart of the ol’ gal too.”

“Smart? Spinning me off into the never-never lands?”

“You still aren’t getting it, are you. Angels, especially the archs like Gabriel, they are Powers - with capital ‘P’s. Heck, one of the angelic choirs has that as their name. They have the energy potential at the highest levels to raze not just solar systems but probably entire clusters of galaxies. Not that they would, but they could if they manifested fully down here.”

“That’s impossible, I mean, I’m just-”

“Just what?” he interrupted. “We have no idea what level of angel you are. If you’re only a lower messenger, then sure, that’s total precaution overkill. But Circe is smart - she’s not taking the risk. If you are a manifestation of something bigger from the Greater Ethereal realms, and your inexperience here causes you to fuck up and channel enough energy to make the sun look like a spark plug, then with that circle there’s a chance the world could survive. The campus, hell maybe New England itself, would be torched in that scenario, but I bet her magic working there has a shot at getting that energy off of our plane fast enough to save the rest. If you’re unstable while you sleep then you need to be within that protection, it’s that simple. Honestly, I should have thought of it myself.”

My knees gave out and I hit the floor with a loud thump. Fortunately my hand had a death grip on the phone so I didn’t drop it.

He sighed. “I’m sorry to have to tell you all this, but I think that you’re right - you need to know these things. Take Circe’s class, talk to her, and hey - maybe even ask her about Soren. He guest lectured there many years ago and they would hang out at dinner some nights.”

“How do you know?”

He chuckled. “Because I was once one of her most difficult students. All the hard stuff in her classes I did with ease, but the easy stuff? Boy did I struggle with those. Drove her nuts. It’s also how I met Soren originally and I guess I caught his attention for when he found me later.”

“Later?” I asked.

“Story for another time. Right now I need to get moving and see if I can get you, and us, more answers. You just learn and practice - and for everyone’s sake, be careful, okay?”

“Right. Sure. Piece of cake.” I didn’t mean a word of it.

“Good. Look, I’ll try to call again in a few weeks. Stay safe ‘till then.”

“You too. And hey, Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For finally being honest.”

“You bet.” He hung up.

I sat there on the floor, resting my back up against the bed while staring out at the three circles wrapping all around. After awhile Khan came over to nudge my hand and curl up to my side.

“Buddy,” I whispered to him, “We are so not in Kansas anymore.”

He yawned unconcernedly. That made one of us.

We sat there together until the pre-dawn light began to peek through my window. I even got to watch as Zap cruised in to perch on the railing, tilting his head in surprise at my already being awake. He bopped his little head up and down in greeting, which made me feel better. Khan just opened an eye, assessed Zap for a moment, then drifted back to his sleep.

I guess there was a lot of new crap to tell Natalie about later that morning. I wondered if she’d be disturbed by any of it. Nah, she’d likely be fully professional and helpful, and wait until after I’d left before maybe freaking out on her own. What else was there to do when your client might be able to destroy the Earth? Egads!

I know Nick said not to tell anyone, but if you can’t trust your therapist with your completely insane life who can you trust? And wasn’t that also the point of this whole place anyway? To get support for dealing with the crazy and maddening world we found ourselves shoved into whether we wanted it or not?

At first I’d thought that it was only Danielle who needed that kind of support longer term and not me. Yeah, I was wrong. So very wrong.

Sighing quietly I snuggled my cat, while me and the hawk watched the day slowly break as the morning sun rose just out sight of my more south-facing view. The forest glimmered with the first pinkish and purple rays which bathed dense trees with a mystical glow.

At least my view from here was pretty darn awesome.

 

Chapter Twenty-Three - Corruption

 

After another hastily completed shower (yes, there being other bare girls in the bathroom still discombobulated my peace of mind), Evie joined me to get breakfast. She was running late when she came out to the lobby and then mumbled something about having to return to her room so her phone could charge. On her sheepish return she admitted that she had played a game on it most of the night. She also insisted without words to hold my hand throughout the entire meal. I didn’t mind, seeing as how eggs-over-easy, Belgian waffles, bacon, and sausage don’t require a fork and knife to eat - even a spoon alone could be made to work if one was determined.

Leland had said he’d meet us at the cafeteria as he was going to try and join a history class study group afterward. This was final exam week for the summer classes, which meant students were busy preparing to cram everything at the last minute. Yep, being a meta or mutant didn’t change the specialty of teenage procrastination. Come to think of it, a lot of adults never grow out of that too. Having just been through the exam wringer myself the kids had my sympathies.

We waited for him, sitting side by side so he could sit opposite, but he didn’t show. Evie just shrugged, commenting that some days Leland would wake up and find his perceptual abilities even more sensitive, and that on those days he just holed up in his room. Even talking on the phone or using a computer would make his overload migraine worse, and when I suggested maybe we should go check up on him she reminded me that knocking on his door would only add to his headache.

Evie had only chosen a toasted muffin and a couple sausage links, so she finished way before I could have even if I had rushed it.

“Jordan?” she said, letting go of my hand. She was studying her empty plate intently, a growing nervousness causing her shoulders to hunch in.

“Hmm?” I still had a mouth full of buttery syrup-laden waffle.

“When you pulled me from my state of crazy in the bathroom, what…what was that like for you? How did you do it?”

Hoo boy. I held up a finger so I could finish chewing, washing it down with more tea before I said anything. I knew I needed to speak clearly for this.

“I’m not sure I can really answer the ‘how’, hon. But you were surrounded by those emotional projection things, and I had to walk through them to get to you. The energy I can tap seems to have an effect on them which allowed me to do so.”

“You just got to me and they all ran away?”

“Not quite. I sorta burned a path through them, but when I got to you not only were they surrounding you, but they also had gotten inside. You didn’t respond when I called your name - you couldn’t see me.”

“Oh.” She thought about that for a moment. “What did you do then?”

“Well, uh, I touched you.”

“That’s it?” She studied my face and the set of her own expression made it clear she was bracing herself. But it wasn’t the truth she was afraid of - she was afraid I’d lie.

“Nope. By touching you we connected, and I kinda fell inside you too.”

She stared, unsure if that was lie or truth so I had to plow on.

“I can’t explain, but I think I went into your spirit, or maybe your mind, something like that, okay? I’d never done anything like that before, so it was very confusing. At first I was bombarded by your memories, and then I think I found the part of you that was stuck and trying to protect itself from those dark emanations.”

“My memories?” She began to panic - I had to quickly take her hand again and try to reassure her.

“Most likely, sweetie. Lots of fragments of images and things. But don’t worry, alright? I haven’t told anyone - not even Natalie - what I saw in there. And I promise I won’t - not without your permission. Ever.”

“Do you…do you know what happened? What I did?” Her voice got very small.

Pushing my breakfast away, I turned my chair to face hers. With a gentle finger I lifted her downcast face so I could look into her eyes.

“Evie, I think I saw a lot of things. What I saw most of all was a young, beautiful, and innocent girl being treated beyond horribly. One who should never shoulder the blame for the outcome of events.”

“But I…I…” She didn’t say it, but her lips made it clear. She mouthed, ‘…killed her.’

Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, I said, “No, Evie, you didn’t. You didn’t.” Thinking quickly I added, “Let me tell you a story, something I did as a baby - in fact this is one of my father’s favorite tales according to my mom. I was in the crib, you see, resting on my tummy. My father walked up to the crib and leaned down to kiss the back of my head. I must have heard him, because I suddenly looked up very fast. I whacked him so hard with the back of my head that it broke his nose.”

“Ow. But what does-”

I completed the question. “What does that have to do with anything? Simple. Would you blame me for breaking his nose?”

“You? But you were just a baby! No!” She squirmed in her chair, uncomfortable with the idea.

I smiled. “Exactly, hon. I didn’t know what would happen when I looked up. Heck, even as a young child it took me awhile to understand just how hard my own noggin was. Why, I even knocked another kid out in a swimming pool once by our heads colliding, but hmm…that’s another story altogether. What’s important is that my concrete block of a baby head is like your powers. You weren’t aware of them, and you still are only beginning to even understand them, let alone manage control. No one can blame you for what happened when your abilities first manifested. They, and you, can blame the universe or genetics or whatever, but they can’t blame you. You didn’t know what would happen, just like I didn’t know as a baby that raising my head that fast would break my father’s nose. And there was no way you could have known.”

I let her think about it, praying that the message would sink in.

“Your dad - how bad was his nose?” she then asked with curiosity, a hint of a smile touching her face. Success? Maybe? Please?

I grinned. “He had to go get it set at the hospital and everything. But he was forevermore proud that his boy was that strong.”

She startled and looked at me funny. “Boy?”

Oh shit! Shit shit shit! “Uhh…” I bit my lip while inwardly raging at myself for my stupidity. How could I have let that slip? Argh!

She stared at me then nodded her head. “You were born a boy, weren’t you.” She didn’t even say it as a question.

I cringed, but I didn’t lie. I couldn’t, not now. Dammit I was stuck. “Yes. I was.”

It was her turn to squeeze my hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. You didn’t tell my stuff, I won’t tell yours. But you shouldn’t let others know, they’d be mean.”

My complexion likely resembled a crimson rose by that point, a large deep Valentine’s Day one. “It…kinda slipped out,” I muttered.

“Is it weird?” She tilted her head, her raven bangs hanging off to one side.

Sighing, I tried to answer. “Yeah, I guess it is. It’s not bad or anything, just different. My mental self-image is still inconsistent, which is awkward. But mostly I feel like it should bother me more than it does, if that makes any sense. And the part of me that feels that way I think may be afraid I could come to like this better. I dunno.”

She stood up and gave me a hug, speaking into my shoulder. “I like you this way. And you’re very pretty. You were probably all scruffy and gross before.”

I snerked. If she only knew how scruffy I had kept my facial hair, or how furry my chest and back had been…

Huh. I really didn’t miss all that.

“Yeah I was,” I said and let go of her hug. “Think we should get ourselves over to Doyle to see Natalie?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Then she smiled suddenly. “You really did have your own issues to deal with when you were upset the other day, huh?”

“My dear, you have no idea. And Evie?” I asked, catching her eye to let her know I was serious with what I was about to say.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For keeping my secret.”

Her grin quadrupled in size - a smile that had the beautiful morning sun beat. There was no contest.

 

~o~O~o~

 

We exited the cafeteria heading towards Doyle and our awaiting appointments, ready to have our heads shrunk by Natalie. All things considered I had a ton to tell her about and was caught both looking forward and yet cringing at the same time, because I knew she’d probably force me to examine the scarier stuff even further. Thing is, there was a lot I most likely needed to get off my chest (so to speak, the new additions were obviously permanent, ahem).

C'est la vie.

Evie, to the surprise of not just myself but a few other students who passed us by, skipped ahead of me and, of all things, sang, “I know a secret! I know a secret!” My glare to those students likely stopped them from interrupting her obvious enjoyment of that fact.

Either that or distracted them entirely - I may have flared a little when I did it. Maybe. They certainly sped up their pace to get away from me though. I called that success.

I was content to just follow behind her, but halfway across the lawn she slowed, then stopped, and I caught up to her. She was staring off to the right towards the forest and was frowning deeply.

“You okay?” I asked, glancing at the trees and catching sight of the hawk as he swooped down to land on a branch at the edge of the wood.

Her eyebrows squinched in concentration. “Something’s wrong.”

“With the hawk?” He looked alright, in fact he seemed to be staring at me from across the distance.

She shook her head. “Shut up for a moment, okay?”

I stood awkwardly at her side, not sure what was bothering her. Her hands clenched into fists, and if her eyes had lasers those distant trees would have been leveled - and set on fire.

Her face shifted from focus to alarm. “Oh no! Leland! He’s hurt!”

“Where?”

She grabbed my arm. “Beyond the trees! There’s evil! And it’s got Leland!”

Her touch was like plugging into an outlet. What she was feeling flooded in, waves of intense panic along with blasts of sheer agony as if someone had taken a needle and jabbed every nerve I had. I think I cried out in shock. Because somewhere beyond the trees, a lot further into the woods, Leland was hurting - and bad. Somehow I also knew it was him. And the area was infested with a feeling awfully like Evie’s own dark manifestations. I had a sudden intuition that time was of the essence.

Not good.

Zap’s cry caused me to look up. He was staring into the woods, shrieking, then looking back at me.

I forced my voice to be calm.

“Evie - I need you to run to Doyle. You need to find an adult - a nurse, Natalie’s appointment secretary, anyone. And you need to tell them what you felt.”

Her face was paler than usual. “It’s bad,” she whispered.

I stepped quickly to place myself between her and the forest, just in case that somehow could shield her.

“Evie, you can do it. What you’re feeling isn’t you - it’s something else. And you can help, okay? You can help Leland by running quickly from here, getting to a safer distance, and telling someone what’s happening.”

Her hands shook with fright - for Leland and for herself. “What about you?”

“I have to go in there after Leland. You can get people to come help me and him, okay?”

“But I’ll lock up inside again!”

I rested a hand on her cheek, trying to pull the terror and pain she was feeling off of her. “You can do it, hon. I have faith in you. If you see another student, shout at them to help you too.”

“Can’t you just call someone? And stay here? We’re not supposed to go into those woods!”

“No, I still don’t have a phone. And yours is back in your room charging, remember?”

I saw her desire to help wrestle with her fear - and to my relief her desire won out and she nodded. “Get to Doyle. Get help. I can do this.”

Without waiting for me to say anything more, she turned and ran towards the medical building at top speed.

Zap’s piercing summons reminded me I had better run too. So I did.

With all the forced running I kept doing lately, maybe I should just wear a sports bra every damn day.

 

~o~O~o~

 

It didn’t take long to reach the tree where Zap had perched, and as I did he took off to soar further into the forest. He was faster yet kept slowing or landing on a branch to allow me to catch up.

As I’d suspected, he knew where to go. He may be stuck as a hawk but he had an intelligence behind those eyes - and maybe something else I couldn’t put a finger on. It was a good thing though, because without Evie’s touch I’d lost the directionality to the empathic feeling, other than a low-level disquiet which slowly grew stronger as we went along. Triangulating based on that would have taken forever - if not been outright impossible.

Ducking under a dangerously low branch, I heard a guttural voice chanting somewhere ahead and I went towards it as best I could - right into even thicker forest. My poor blouse and skirt were going to need to be sent back to Cecilia for repairs after this - they kept snagging on thorns and sticks but I wasn’t about to stop. I’d deal with the fabric carnage later.

Through the trees I spotted what looked to be a clearing or at least an area that was less dense. A figure in a dark hooded cloak was standing there holding a knife aloft in one hand with blade pointed towards the sky, and in the other held a multi-colored sphere about six inches across with its two halves being held together by, I kid you not, duct tape.

That’s when I ran directly into an invisible wall. Hard.

My nose went crunch against it (damn Dad, that really does hurt!) and I saw nothing but stars.

The chanting was interrupted by maniacal girlish laughter. “Didn’t see THAT coming, did you!”

I slid to my knees down along a barrier now visible due to my nose’s blood smearing all over it. I moaned as eyes refocused on the leering face beneath the hood. Green eyes ringed with deep black circles over an unhealthily anorexic face. “Tamara?”

“Yeah, it’s me you bitch!” She spat at me - though her spittle just hit the other side of the wall to mirror my bloodstain.

There was a whimper behind her. It was Leland. He was tied to a tree by thick rope wrapped around arms and chest, with more around his waist and wrists pinning him to the bark, and a third winding similarly strangling his ankles. He was clad only in his shorts - his special glasses and ear protections had been removed. Oh man.

His eyes were tightly squeezed shut but I knew our spoken words alone probably sounded like church bells bouncing off his eardrums.

I had to get to him. But also had to keep her distracted until I could.

While I tried to gather my energies and let my inner vision take control (so maybe I could see what the hell she had put in my way), I spoke to her as quietly as I could yet loud enough so she would hear.

“What are you doing, Tamara?”

The black opal pendant lay perched between her collarbones. As my sight opened up to magic and beyond, my stomach dropped as it fought the terror of what was beheld.

Dark tendrils had sprouted from that opal - a multitude of them - and they crawled over her skin from head to toe. Worse still, they plunged under the skin in too many spots to count. Like a spiderweb made up of tiny maleficent razorblades, she was being shredded apart piece by tiny piece. The damn web even pulsed as if sucking the spirit-force right out of her.

It was one of the worst things I had ever seen.

“Doing? I’m fixing what you fucking broke!” She held up the duct-taped halves of her crystal ball.

“How is this going to fix it?” I asked, forcing my perception away from her to try and examine the wall that had stopped me. I was no good to anyone while stuck outside it. A lattice-work similar yet different to what was covering her skin rose out of the ground in a circle - and it went all the way around her small clearing. Embedded within it were not just Norse runes but also these small straight lines making stranger symbols as they crossed themselves in regular patterns.

But it was an entirely different style of symbol scattered throughout which caused me greater worry. They looked awfully like the ones Circe had used for her ‘failsafe’ circle in my room.

“How?” she crowed. “Oh it’s quite simple, but seeing as how you’ve had no proper education in the mystic arts whatsoever, I’ll explain it so maybe an idiot like you can possibly understand. After all, a plebeian such as yourself would not have a master like Glegalin to teach you.”

Gotta keep her talking and not acting. “You’re right, Tamara. I’ve had no teaching - and can only ask for guidance from those, like yourself, who know so much more than I.” I hoped if I stroked her ego it might buy more time - all the while charging up my hand behind my back. I was going to have to try and punch through that barrier, and had a feeling it was going to take a lot to do it.

“Ha.” She snorted. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you worm. But as I am a woman of my word I will tell you anyway. You see, a crystal such as this requires the proper resonances. You ruined that when you broke it! So to fix and bind it again, something needs to hold it together that resonates with its scrying purpose!”

Scrying…perception. Oh shit. Leland. I couldn’t help it, my eyes darted back to the suffering captive.

She laughed again, a dark laugh laced with hysteria. “You begin to comprehend, don’t you? Yes, Leland here, is quite integral to the spell. So integral that his soul will be the very binding to perfect my pretty crystal - in fact, it should surpass even my mother’s most prize possession when I am done! She will be proud of my accomplishment and envious!”

I figured it was now or never, so I jumped up. Shoving feet into a proper stance, I threw a burning fist at the wall with all I had.

The barrier’s markings sucked the light right from the fist before I even connected, and my hand collapsed into itself from the impact.

I screamed loudly. Which caused Leland to cry and twitch under his bindings as my shout must have torn through his ears.

Tamara though was damn near falling over with how hard she was laughing. “That…that’s hilarious! Look at the blood from your fist still hovering there!”

Cradling the broken hand, I looked down and had to bite my lip to keep from screaming again. The bones of my fingers were shattered, the fingertips had solid chunks just dangling loosely from shredded muscle and skin.

“You think I wouldn’t be prepared for you?” Tamara taunted. “I had Fields hack the Mystical Arts Department’s computers and get their pictures of Circe’s little circle that was done to contain your so-called celestial ass. My barrier will just take your energy and use it against you - Glegalin assures me it’s perfect, especially since you have no idea what you’re doing!”

“Who,” I said through clenched teeth, “is Glegalin?”

“The adviser my mother sent me, you idiot - and with his help I’m going to fix the mess you made. Then he’s going to crush you. Leland will be my mind-slave, of course, because I’ll own his soul, so he gets to live. With his abilities he’ll be really useful, don’t you think?”

This was beyond bad. I reached further within for more Light, letting it wash over my fist. Meanwhile I stared at the damn wall. Did it have a weakness? If I pulled even more energy, could I break it anyway? What was the most I’d pulled so far? Probably back at the DPA labs taking out the wall to get to Danielle.

The inner wellspring burst through me, but like before I felt it was only filling a small part of a much bigger cavern. Dammit! Trying to increase that flow in desperation was like trying to turn a stuck spigot - I knew it could release more somehow, but it just wouldn’t.

My glow lit up the forest but Tamara just smirked. “Oh this should be good. Hit it with THAT much energy and you’ll obliterate yourself directly! What fun!”

Frowning, I forced my will upon that inner tap - but my conversation with Nick rammed itself through my thoughts.

Power. Too much power. What if I ended up incinerating everything? Crap. If I could stall her long enough, could help arrive in time?

“Hmm…if you’re going to just stand there, I have better things to do. Like finish what I came here for!” Tamara, turning her back, lifted her dagger and began chanting once more. Shit, no!

While I stood there struggling with what I should or even could do, she lowered the knife to cut markings onto Leland’s exposed stomach. He screamed and thrashed wildly, which only sharpened the pitch of his cries as the ropes also rubbed harshly against his skin.

Fuck! What to do? I didn’t want to blow up everything - not Leland, not Tamara, not Zap, not the school…wait a minute.

Where’s Zap?

Still holding onto a fierce amount of energies, I looked frantically around and found the hawk. He had landed on the forest floor three feet or so off to my side. Staring at me intently, he stretched his wings out wide and shrieked.

In my weird inner sight a vision popped into view. I saw the hawk being raised up in a glowing nimbus forged by my energies, his eyes and feathers burning with all that power.

He wanted me to zap him. With all of it.

I hesitated, afraid of what it might do to him, but Leland screamed again in a choking mindless cry. Zap had caught lightning the other night and he seemed to be okay...what other options did I have?

With a grunt I focused all the energy into a large sun-like ball that burst into existence between my hands, and with it casting forth miniature solar flares, I threw it at the hawk.

He lifted his head to catch it directly with his chest and wings, soaking it all in.

In awe I watched him float right up into the air, my energies flaring out along feathers that grew even brighter still. It got so intense I had to close my physical eyes and only use my mind to see.

From there I saw the hawk grow larger and larger as its form changed - like the shining inverse of a shadow - and the light took on the outline of a man.

I opened my eyes.

Standing aglow with eyes flaring white with power was a young man maybe seventeen years of age. He had powerful shoulders and a strong chest, yet his waistline was slender and taut. Dark hair streamed behind his head, looking for all the world like feathers, and his nose was as proud as the bird he had just been.

Oh, and he didn’t have any clothes on. But I wasn’t going to fault him for that. Especially because, to my surprise, I caught myself thinking that he was actually kind of cute.

Must’ve been the energy and the pain from my hand - I definitely wasn’t thinking properly.

Inside the barrier Tamara stopped chanting, leaving Leland bleeding profusely from the incisions her markings had left behind. “Who the hell are you?” she challenged Zap, knowing she was safe behind that wall of hers.

Zap didn’t answer and instead stepped closer to the barrier, those brilliant eyes scanning its surface. He spoke a word I didn’t recognize as he held a hand out behind him, and a staff forged of that light appeared within it. The end of the staff sharpened into a narrow spear-point.

“The trick,” he said calmly as he paced slowly around the wall of energies, “is to know which symbols form the anchor. And not to spread your own power around for the webbing to grab.”

With that he twirled his spear and plunged the sharp tip straight through the barrier.

That part of the wall collapsed in a shower of sparks and ash.

Tamara cried out in alarm, “No! Glegalin, stop him!”

As Zap stepped through the new opening he paused with a warrior’s caution as we watched a darkness stream out of Tamara’s necklace. Much like Zap himself a moment ago had been a silhouette of light within my vision-space, so now was this the opposite: a shadow standing free of any man to cast it.

The shadow’s hands each grew a sword of their own.

“I’ll deal with this, you stop her!” Zap commanded, his face alight with an inner joy for the impending combat. With obvious skill he spun his spear about to block the first slice from one of the blades formed from emptiness. He then danced to the side to avoid its black twin, moving to counter with a spear-point lunge of his own.

I was mesmerized. On top of my sight of the young man wielding a spear of solid light I also saw something grander: a taller more imposing figure, loincloth shifting over powerful legs, bronzed sun-kissed skin with a neckline merging into reddish-brown feathers that covered the head of a battle-hardened hawk.

And this man didn’t need my energy, for a shaft of sunlight streamed down between the trees illuminating him in solar glory. In my vision I saw the sun in the sky above resting atop a strange looking boat, and its light shone down for this man and this man alone.

“Get moving!” Zap roared at me, his voice a blend of old and young. Tamara had dropped the remains of her greenish-purple crystal ball and was now using both hands to carve symbols into the air, aiming them at Zap. Crap.

Rushing through the gap the hawk-man had created, I snarled. “Oh hell no!” I threw my energy directly into her forming symbol, scattering it with the burst. I may not have had the training to wield it finely, but an unruly shotgun blast was usually effective at messing things up. Like storage unit locks, for example.

She stumbled backwards as if the blast had struck her directly. She raised hands again to try and draw another spell, but they were shaking badly. Her energy reserves were toast, dangerously so - likely from those horrible black lines digging into her skin and her spirit.

“Dammit Tamara,” I yelled. “That thing is some kind of evil! It’s using you and it’s killing you!”

“Evil?” I saw her eyes flash back towards the fighting shadow, which somehow distracted it and caused it to stumble. It was still connected to her, if I could disrupt that…

“Yes, evil! Think! Would your mother ever want you to abuse someone’s soul? What would she say if she saw you casting such evil spells?” I moved closer to her.

“Mom?” Tamara looked about in confusion.

The shadow-man took a quick step back towards Tamara, a dark hand darting towards the pendant.

A hand which Zap sliced off with the end of his spear, causing the shadow to shriek in otherworldly agony.

I jumped forward having already recharged myself as best I could, and grabbed onto Tamara’s necklace with my unbroken hand before the shadow could get to it first.

This time I was ready for the falling transition as I dove into her troubled heart.

 

Chapter Twenty-Four - Cleansing

 

A tapestry lay under siege: twists of blackened wire suffocated threads which should have been brilliant with multi-colored varieties. The stain of shadow seeped deeper into every stitch piece by piece, spreading pitch darkness across the whole. Each strand reflected a scene - a memory waiting to be touched. Trying to understand how to help, I reached forward and connected with a single wisp that lay on the periphery of the foul stain…

 

“Mommy! The waves are fun, you gotta come swim!”

A young girl with sparkling green eyes ran across a beach under a warm sun. Her mother, resting on a folding plastic chair in a turquoise one-piece bathing suit and wide-brimmed flowery hat, was busily writing into a spiral notebook.

“Mommy, Mommy!” The child, maybe eight or nine years old, bounced between one foot and the other, trying to keep the hot sand from burning her pink toes.

“Not yet, honey. This is important.” Her mother, focus still entirely on her notes, dismissed her daughter without even looking up.

Disappointment crushed the little girl, her excitement fading sharply into sadness. With heavy feet she trudged back towards the water - if only to cool her burning feet, for the joy of the ocean’s watery touch had drained away along with all the scene’s vibrant colors. Dull grays and blacks washed over everything, leaving a young girl standing lost in shadow as she stood below a cloudless sky.

My heartache made me want to pull away, but I was held fast by a voice that spoke directly to my mind.

Keep watching. Let your Light show you true.

My light? I was a witness to the scene but not in it, what could I do? The little girl stood there at the edge of the shore, the same shallow trickles of icy cold flowing over her toes again and again. Exactly the same wave each time.

She was stuck. The scene was caught in an endless loop, focusing only on the pain of her mother’s rejection.

But what had happened after?

I pushed out over that beach, trying to slowly wash away the clouds that were not clouds, hoping for a glimpse of what lay under the patina of sadness that held it fast.

That’s it. Carefully…

A new wave crashed further out over the sea, and the girl’s mother called out.

“Tamara! I’m all done sweetie - let’s swim!”

Night returned to day as the little girl turned and saw her mom tossing hat aside with a wide smile to come running across the sands. With a shriek of delight the daughter was swept up into her mother’s arms and carried further out into the refreshing waters of pure happiness and adoration.

The remaining shadows fled from the joy and exaltation shining from this now untarnished memory. I began to understand the affliction Tamara was suffering from.

Yes. If all we remember is in eclipse, if every kindness is forgotten and our every ill-choice brushed over with only sinister pleasure, then who do we become?

“Has it corrupted all her memories like this?” I recognized that voice now - from standing and overlooking a wider blue ocean under a different sky: the man on the rock from my dreams. His presence was felt as if he were standing right at my side, as solid and reassuring as that boulder upon which he had sat.

Not yet. But there is much to be done if you wish to save her. Her spirit is in a fragile state, she has used up too much of her own spark. Deep within the core of her true self she fights the shadows still, so there is hope. But apply too much of your power and her own would be as a candle snuffed out by a hurricane. You need to remove the stain with a gentle touch that leaves behind only the truths as she herself has chosen to remember, the good with the bad. Overdo it and you would be as guilty as the shadow in whitewashing the essence of her soul.

The thought of the entirety of Tamara’s life in all its uncountable and wondrous complexity and hidden subtleties overwhelmed me.

“It’s too much!” I cried. “I’m sure to tear something or ruin it! She was right - I’m too new at this. I don’t have that kind of control. This is her whole life - her whole spirit you’re talking about! What if I screw it up?”

I will guide you if you let me. Have faith, little sister. To do nothing would grant easy victory to the corrupter and she will be forever lost.

No. No!

Marshaling my will, I felt my connection to that inner pillar of Light deepen, and its Source offered both strength and purpose.

The sun-lit beach fell away, becoming a single small spot within the full tapestry of thoughts, memories, and emotions which comprised Tamara’s entire existence. But now that tiny spot sparkled and shone against the horrible darkness that had smeared itself across the rest.

It gave me renewed hope. “Show me where to start.”

We got to work.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Memory after memory, scene after scene, he guided me to where I needed to focus. His perceptions outclassed mine; where I would have left scorched embers trying to tackle the blackest spots, he held me back and showed places nearby where only a small burst would tilt the balance and let gentle cleansing wash away the misperceived pains, angers, and sorrows. I lost track of any sense of time, there was only one moment leading to another…and then another.

Finally, after restoring a loving tease given by a close friend from being misremembered as mean-spirited cruelty, he called it.

That should be enough.

Drawing back again to try and view the whole, my vision still saw too much black film cutting into too many threads.

“But there’s still so much…” I sounded tired. That bright tower I could pull from felt infinite, but my willpower was not. I was mentally exhausted and hadn’t realized it.

Look again, little one. Watch closely.

I stared at the entirety of my perception of her soul, not understanding. But then I saw it: the areas we had cleansed that now shone on their own with their mosaic of blended hues and intensities were something truly beautiful - and they were pushing back the black razor foreign tendrils, casting them off one small twist at a time.

Her spirit was fighting it. Not only that, she was starting to win.

I nearly wept with relief. “She’s healing! On her own!”

Her spirit is strong. You have restored her sense of self to her center; she now has the leverage she needs with which to heal the rest. Our work is complete enough, leaving only one thing left to do.

With a mental nudge from him, I became aware that in the physical realm there was something nasty in my hand. The silver chain with its cursed gemstone was clenched between fingers and contained by the light of my fist. Rolling waves of hatred and rage tried to spill out, but much like Evie’s own manifestations these could not stand within the glory of the energies granted me from far above.

Shifting attention more fully from Tamara, I poured my perceptions into the stone and saw the foul working etched within that had ripped open a small portal to a place where light was not meant to shine.

I blasted through that gap anyway, feeling a measure of righteous satisfaction at the wordless scream of terror from something that recoiled and fled away beyond the tiny crack between realms.

Casting my words through that fissure, I shouted at the fleeing entity of misery and despair. “That’s right, you bastard! Run! Run and be glad I’m not crossing through your little hole and setting your whole damned existence aflame!”

So saying I burned away the magic that had let such evil corrupt a most precious and wondrous thing: Tamara’s kaleidoscopic soul.

A ripple pulsed outward as I welded that doorway firmly shut.

It is done. The voice had the same glowing satisfaction that echoed in my heart.

I felt his presence begin to recede, though his love and approval washing over me remained.

“Wait, please!” I pleaded. “Who are you? You called me ‘sister’…”

We are family. A large family that spans your cosmos and beyond.

“I still have too many questions! That hasn’t changed!”

His laugh was warmth personified. We will speak again. But for now I give you this: in your world I am known as Raphael.

Raphael. Just thinking his name pulled more of that comforting warmth into me. “Thank you. I owe you.”

I serve my Purpose, as you do yours. Be well.

And he was gone.

 

~o~O~o~

 

My eyes opened.

I was still in that small glade, but instead of standing I now knelt besides Tamara’s prone and unconscious body. My left hand still grasped the melted silver remains of her pendant, its chain dangling free and scorched.

Weariness flooded over me, and I fell forward - catching my fall by shoving the wounded hand to brace against the dirt on Tamara’s other side.

Correction. My formerly wounded hand. It had already healed.

Looking up though, I had a moment of returning panic. A barrier of magic stood surrounding the glade, one which once again completed a full circle. Behind me was the young man Zap had become. He faced that barrier and stood in a guard position with the spear of light held firm and its bottom tip planted solidly into the ground.

The sun now shone down upon him from directly above - obviously many hours had passed.

First things first. I quickly checked Tamara’s pulse - her heart beat was strong, and her breathing steady. Good.

Now second: Leland. A glance at the tree where he had been bound showed a pile of cut rope sitting empty at the base. Leland wasn’t there.

“Where’s Leland?” I tossed the question at Zap.

“The young man from the tree is safe,” he answered. I blinked and looked at him again. The voice that answered was not that of a boy in his middle teens. No, it carried ages of experience, determination, and an underlying sense of sadness. My vision swam for a moment, letting me get another glimpse of the proud hawk-headed warrior that overlay the younger teen.

“Jordan Elin Emrys!” A woman’s voice boomed out from behind the shimmering barrier, also full of experience and accustomed to being obeyed.

“What?” I replied sounding rather frazzled in comparison. If Zap was still on guard, who was that out there?

“Release your powers so that we may tend to Ms. McPherson.”

Peering through the wall with more normal sight it was clear we were surrounded. But not by enemies - by teachers. Including Rabbi Kirov.

Zap quietly spoke so only I would hear. “They wished to interfere. I did not allow it. They have contained the flashes from your efforts instead.”

He nodded towards the little clearing we were in - there were many burnt leaves, scorched bark, and even a small flame or two dancing happily amidst the brush. Yikes.

Trying to stand up, I foolishly let go of both my inner source and the wad of scrap metal still in my hand. The world spun around and I fell sideways. Zap, releasing his grip on the electric spear (which disappeared in a satisfying fwoosh), caught me and gently lay me upon the ground next to Tamara.

“Uh, thank you…and also thanks for breaking her wall, and fighting the shadow-man, and…”

He nodded as he knelt over me. He seemed to want to say more but he looked upward instead. “I must go.”

My sense of him as the hawk-headed man vanished as a cloud drifted in front of the mid-day sun.

Kneeling over me now was a naked and scared boy. He stared in confusion down at me, then at the clearing around us, and finally at himself - and saw he was totally without clothing.

I couldn’t help it, I had to say it. With a tired and loopy grin I quoted one of my favorite movies, “Maybe you should put some shorts on or something if you want to keep fighting evil today.”

His shock shifted to anger. Turning his attention towards the sky he shouted at the now hidden sun. “Fuck you!”

As eyes rolled up into his head he collapsed on top of me.

Oof. Okay, I wasn’t expecting that, but maybe I should have. And probably deserved it for my silly quote. I was just really really tired, okay? I closed my eyes and didn’t even hear or feel the teachers’ magic protections go down.

The stern woman’s voice didn’t let me rest for long though. “Jordan Emrys.”

Zap was lifted off of me. Huh, my arms had wrapped around him - when had I done that?

Blinking, I peered up to see a woman with dark curly hair and rather pretty olive skin. She looked young, nope, check that, she looked uhh…hmm. Ageless? The depths burning within those eyes were intimidating, let’s just leave it at that.

“Yeah?” I said, hoping my exhaustion wouldn’t trigger a snarky comment that I’d regret later.

“What you just did was incredibly dangerous.” Disapproval oozed through her words and posture.

“So is getting out of bed each morning, and yet we do that every day.” Ah shit, there’s the snark.

She bent down to put a hand on Tamara’s forehead, closing her eyes in concentration.

“She’s healing,” I said wearily. “The corruption lost.”

Those eyes flashed back at me. “Do you have any idea what you risked by such reckless action, child?”

Alright, look. I had already figured out who she must be, and therefore knew she was incredibly old and knowledgeable and blah blah blah, but you know what? Screw it. I had my own set of years and experience to stand upon.

“You mean other than risking overwhelming every memory she has and maybe turning them to ash even while trying to cleanse them? Or blowing out that magical spark in her core by accident? Or maybe shredding her very soul? Or perhaps you mean denying her freedom to choose how to remember her past? If not one of those, then nope, I don’t have a damn clue.”

Was that a vein throbbing on her forehead? Blood pressure medicine is useful, you know.

Hey - I didn’t say that, just thought it. I’m not that crazy.

She practically hissed with anger. “You have no training, no experience, and wield your power like a sledgehammer…”

“And yet the girl is healing, yes?” Rabbi Kirov walked up to stand besides the woman who most assuredly was Circe, the head of his department and artificer of the failsafe in my bedroom.

Controlling herself (a lot better than I was controlling myself), she nodded reluctantly. “She is sleeping. Peacefully. The ‘corruption’ as Jordan termed it is being cleansed by the fires of Tamara’s own spirit.”

I relaxed a bit more. I mean, I believed what I saw and what my spirit brother had told me, but having someone else confirm it was nice. “Raphael said she’d be okay.”

The rabbi gasped. “The Archangel Raphael? You spoke with him?”

“Heck, he guided me through the whole thing.” I yawned.

Kirov turned to Circe, his expression enraptured. “Raphael - whose very name translates as ‘Healer of God’. Ms. McPherson was held in the hands of the divine. She could not have been in any better care.”

“Look,” I mumbled, unsure of how much longer I was going to be awake. “I’m not so stupid as to try such a thing alone, okay? I know what a klutz and ticking time-bomb I am, I really do. But feel free to punish me later if that’ll make you feel any better. But right now? I think I’d like to pass out.”

I heard Circe mutter under her breath.

“Ángeloi. Kakoû kórakos kakòn oón.”

While I recognized the first word as meaning ‘angels’, the rest was, uhm, Greek to me. Yet the tone of frustrated disgust it conveyed was rather clear.

Eh, whatever. I fell asleep.

 

~o~O~o~

 

I was back in the infirmary, of course. They’d even hooked me up to an I.V. for fluids, even though the attending physician grumbled about how my blood was ‘entirely too normal’.

Yep, that’s me. Entirely normal. Ha!

Anyway, Jenna was there in my room, having sat there for hours waiting for me to come around. She looked so much like a younger version of Caroline sitting there in the hospital room, but that was okay. She wasn’t an exact clone or anything, just had a striking resemblance - especially her smile.

If Brendan didn’t treat her right, he was going to learn just how strong my powered-up fist could be.

Jenna told me that Tamara had woken up, and as Mrs. Carson had arrived back from her vacation shortly after noon, the headmistress herself had gone in to interrogate her. Apparently Evie, after bursting in to the E.R. shouting about evil, had then immediately called Jenna because she knew we were friends. How sweet was that? Jenna in turn called Penelope. Penelope then had reported to the administrators all that I had told her about the curses, the necklace, the works - along with a lot more detail than I’d known about. She had been busy and managed to piece together the source of that necklace: it had indeed been sent to Tamara from England, but not by her mom. Someone here at school had shipped a package to England first, and arranged via hacker-connections for someone there to ship it back along with a forged letter claiming it to be from Tamara’s mother.

Penelope must have gotten the entire hacker community at the school on the case somehow because they had rapidly uncovered the source: Fields was the one who had sent the package and forged the letter. It was Tamara, though, who had revealed that indeed it was Fields who hacked the gym’s protective shielding device - with help from Tamara using her crystal.

Mrs. Carson, accompanied by security as well as Circe, had gone straight to the room of one Erica Lain, a.k.a. ‘Fields’, only to find it packed up and empty. Fields had already fled the school. Just as well she did, I guess, as she was expelled in absentia and her (divorced) parents notified.

Being at the center of such drama, I had obviously done a real bang up job slipping quietly into Whateley to start the next term of classes. Real smooth-like even. I had a feeling that would bite me in the ass, but hopefully not for a few days at least. I needed the rest.

Leland was back in his special perceptional dampening chamber after the doctors (and mystical healers) had taken care of the incisions on his stomach. They had dosed him with some pretty strong stuff though, and Jenna said she had overheard a doctor mention that they expected him to be mentally out of it for a few days while his system tried to re-balance after such sensory overload trauma. As much as I wanted to go check in on him, that would have to wait awhile.

As for my savior, Zap, he too was in Doyle and still in human form. They had him in isolation and under twenty-four hour surveillance because as soon as he woke up he had hopped out of bed and tried to shove his finger into an electrical outlet, screaming about wanting to shift back. He was currently sedated and restrained, the poor guy, but Natalie was supposed to be talking with him.

I really hoped I could see him soon even if just to tell him thanks. Until I’d be allowed to, I would have to place faith in Natalie that she could help him. I prayed earnestly for her success. I owed Zap a lot - and would do whatever I could for him, if he’d let me.

They fed me dinner in the recovery room, fortunately catered from Crystal Hall and not standard horrid hospital fare. The doctor hadn’t wanted to release me until I’d eaten something and thereby proven I was really feeling as good as I claimed. In all truth physically I felt fine. My hand was fully healed and the only lingering effect was a case of mental lassitude. I did tell him I sure as hell wasn’t planning on taking any more of those crazy placement exams today and he walked out in a huff. Heh.

Oh, and Circe had assigned me detention for breaking school rules of not only entering the ‘forbidden forest’, but also performing unauthorized and unsupervised surgery upon a soul. Okay, okay, she termed it ‘spiritual healing’, but I like my way of saying it better. The detention as it turned out was to be served at Hawthorne. Supposedly that was a big punishment to the other students - making them wash the bathrooms and do chores at my cottage with all the unsavory tasks related to the GSD kids, including stuff like scooping gunk out of Louis’ pool, things like that.

I would have been happy to do it anyway if it was helpful. Sheesh.

Thus after I had polished off my dinner (chicken cordon bleu with a nice Italian green salad and tasty risotto), I was released. Jenna had already taken off so she could get herself some food as only in-patients received food delivery, no matter how much I had tried to pout at the nurse.

Before I left however I checked if I would be allowed to do at least one thing. After a phone call by the nurse to a Dr. Bellows, my request was granted.

 

~o~O~o~

 

“Mind if I come in?” I asked, after knocking (gently, for once) on the door.

A tired, frustrated, and worried voice answered. “Everyone else has, so why not you too?”

Stepping in, I closed the door behind me. Inside was a girl lying on a bed that was a twin of the one I had just gotten out of. Tamara was propped up on pillows and the bed frame’s elevated automatic lift, and yeah, they had her hooked up to an I.V. too - though I could make out on the label that hers had dextrose added.

Good, she looked way too skinny and anorexic. But, even though she stared at me with caution, her eyes no longer had the sharp edge of disdain or hatred.

“Hey,” I said. “I, uh, well…I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day when I arrived.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Ya think?”

“How much do you remember?” I asked, moving closer to the side of the bed.

“They keep asking me that,” she muttered. “I remember it all, okay? Is that what you want to hear? And yeah, I was awful! I was horrible to you, I did it - all those curses - everything.” I saw tears start to slide down her cheeks spilling from the corners of her eyes.

I picked up the small box next to her bed and offered her a tissue. She took one without meeting my gaze, holding it tightly in her hand.

“I just want to hear that you’re okay,” I said softly. “What was awful is what happened to you.”

She sniffed and finally relented to blow her nose. “Well I’m not okay. I’m mad as hell at Fields, I’m horrified at how I’ve treated everyone, and now they tell me that I may owe my very soul to someone I treated worst of all.”

“It wasn’t you, Tamara. That demonic thing corrupted-”

“It was me! Don’t you get it? I enjoyed being evil! I enjoyed messing with you, and even enjoyed being angry at you for taking that stupid name.”

I reached for her hand. She tried to pull away but I was faster - plus she had the disadvantage of being stuck to the I.V. “Hey. Listen to me. That pendant’s demon infiltrated your spirit - I know, I saw the damage. But under it all? You were trying to fight it!”

Her rage at herself cracked slightly, and for a moment I saw again a little girl on the beach wanting only to play and bounce in the surf. “Fight it?”

“Yes! You’re a good person, Tamara! All the way down to your core you were trying to fight that crap off. It may have corrupted your conscious mind, manipulating the way you remembered everything, pushing your emotions in ways that suited its needs to control you, but at your center? You were struggling with everything you had to hold it at bay. I saw it directly, and I swear to you that what I say is true.” Letting go of her hand, I put another tissue on her lap.

She chewed at her lip, wanting desperately to believe but afraid to.

I decided to push just a little further. “You’re amazing, Tamara, and your mom should be very proud of you. Your spirit, your life, it’s beautiful. It glitters, and it’s probably the prettiest I’ve seen.”

Cocking her head at me, she asked, “And just how many souls have you looked at?”

I grinned. “Including yours? Maybe two?”

She scoffed, but at least she gave a hint of a smile. “Not the most experienced of reviewers then, are you.”

“Yeah, okay, you got me. But that doesn’t change what I said. And I’ll repeat it all to your mom if you want me to.”

Moaning, she wiped at her eyes. “My mom. How am I going to explain this to her? They called her - she’s already on a flight from London.”

“Good!” That really made me happy to hear. “Just tell her the truth. And call me in to back you up if you want.”

She looked at me. “Aren’t you mad at me? For what I did to you? Goddess, what I did to Leland! Is he okay? No one’s really told me anything after Carson got done grilling me.”

I nodded. “Jenna said they got the healers to do their magic on his stomach, and he’s back in his room. He may be out of it for the week, though. I don’t know what you did to get him out there with you, but Jenna mentioned that they weren’t sure he’d remember much of it. That may be for the best, actually.”

Her face flushed with embarrassment. “I cast a mind-control spell on him. G…the demon taught it to me. It’s horrible.”

“Ah, guess that explains that.”

We both were quiet for about half a minute, neither of us sure what else to say.

“So, uh, how long they going to keep you here?” I asked, trying to break that uncomfortable silence.

“Probably a few days. They say I should be out before Friday to take my Algebra final, which I’m totally going to fail again.” She sighed.

“Algebra?”

“Yeah. I suck at it. Aced everything else, but math? I can manipulate magical symbols, see their relationships and correspondences, all of that - yet those silly x’s and y’s just confuse the heck out of me.”

I thought for a moment. “Can I make you a deal?”

She frowned. “A deal?”

“I’m likely to be assigned magic classes, and if my teacher is Circe - well, I get the feeling she may not like me much. So I might need help in them. But math? I’m good at that. If I can help you study for your final on Friday and you manage to pass? Be my tutor for the magic stuff. And I’ll keep helping you for your next math level too.”

“Seriously? You’d do that for me? Why don’t you hate me for all of this?”

“Hate you? How could I?”

She shook her head. “What are you, some kind of angel?”

“Uh…”

Looking at my discomfort she laughed. “Sorry, I had to! Jenna came in earlier and let that slip when I asked her how you could have done what you did. Don’t blame her, though - I totally pried.”

“Well played,” I said.

She grinned. “I didn’t want to believe her, but…let’s just say after properly meeting you I will grant the possibility.”

“Fair enough. I’m having a hard enough time believing it all myself, to be honest.”

“I bet.” She settled back against her pillows, looking truly tired.

“I should let you rest up. But I’ll be back tomorrow with your math book.”

“Ugh. Torture.”

“You know it.” I stepped towards the door. “Get more sleep and dream of quadratic oceans and parabolic waves!”

“That’s awful,” she said. “But hey, Jordan?”

I turned back to look at her from the doorway. “Yeah?”

Her clear green eyes met mine. “Thank you.”

Not sure what to say, I just smiled an acknowledgment before closing the door and sighing in relief. She really was going to be okay - her natural spirit was fast along in its healing if she could already laugh like that.

I whispered my own prayer of thanks to Raphael again. There’s no way I could have done it without him.

With my heart no longer as worried as when I had gone in, I decided to stop by the cafeteria first before heading to my next destination of the evening.

There was one last person I needed to check up on.

 

~o~O~o~

 

I found Evie in her room. She practically tackled me with a hug after she let me in, I had to swing the grocery bag and its contents out of the way as she did so to prevent a potential mess.

“Whoa! Careful, hon!”

She clung to me as I tried to walk over to her desk and put the bag down.

“I was worried!” she said forcefully.

Wrapping both arms around her properly, I held her close. “Truth to tell, so was I.”

“They wouldn’t let me go out to the woods after you. Natalie said I had to just wait like she did. All day!”

I sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that. It took awhile to take care things, and then I kinda passed out.”

She looked up at me. “You okay?”

Smiling, I nodded. “Yep. All better, just tired. But I needed to come tell you something, and then need your help with something else.”

Dark eyes looked suspiciously at me and she backed up to her bed, defensively crossing her arms. “What…what did you need to tell me?”

Her self-protective reaction tugged at the strings of my heart. “Just that I am very proud of you, Evie. You got to Doyle, you told them to send help out there. You even thought to tell Jenna, which really helped in getting information to the administration that they needed to know. And more than that, your abilities let you feel Leland’s distress when no one else could have noticed. You’re a hero, Evie. You saved him. And also saved Tamara.”

“But you did that! You saved them both! I know, I heard!”

“Without you noticing he was in trouble, who knows what would have happened. And I didn’t save them alone. I had help. Lots of help - especially yours. The teachers saw to Leland and kept the forest from burning down from what I was doing. All of it was thanks to you. All of it.”

She looked at me with wide amazement gleaming across her face. “Really?”

“Really. Which brings me to what I need your help with.” I looked towards the plastic grocery bag resting on her desk, and the small dribbles of condensation pooling on its surface.

“What?” she asked, again suspicious.

“Something I’ve been trying to do ever since I got here, but kept not getting the chance.” I reached into the bag to retrieve a small carton of vanilla ice cream and pulled off its top. Haagen-daaz, yum!

She looked scared. “But I’m not supposed to have that…”

I pulled out two spoons. “You’re going to help me start a new tradition. You see, I recently lost my home. It’s gone, all of it, only my kitty remains. But the rest? Poof. And the future looks like it’s going to be chock full of all kinds of further craziness in ways I can’t even imagine yet. But I figure that today, here and now, just you and me, we’re going to eat this ice cream together.”

Looking deep into those frightened eyes with all the love I could muster I added, “And when we’re finished? I say we’re home. Both of us, right here, right now, safe and sound here in Hawthorne Cottage.”

Comprehension dawned in those eyes like the sun peeking out after a storm. She took hold of the offered spoon and together we fought to get a couple scoops out of the still solidly frozen dessert.

It was very hard, those first spoonfuls. But each attempt after got just a little easier, until before we knew it, we had finished the entire thing.

With a grin reaching all the way up, she dropped her spoon into the empty carton.

“Home,” she declared.

“Home,” I echoed solemnly. And you know what? I meant it.

Danielle would soon be arriving, and with any luck she too could come to think of this crazy school with its amazing kids as a good place to call home. Like them - and like me - she needed it.

An angel can hope, right?

 

Epilogue - Departure

 

The airport in New Hampshire’s Berlin was busier than usual. As flights arrived throughout the day, Erica noted the arrival of a number of students on their way back to Whateley to begin the fall term. A term she now would be absent from.

It was all that blasted redhead’s fault.

Erica had had a good thing going - with the use of that pendant she had swiped from her father’s hidden safe (which she had discovered during one of her rare allowed visits), she had gotten access to not only Tamara’s scrying crystal but also Tamara’s powerful skill in using it. Her father’s notes, found equally buried within his not-so-secure computer, had described how the cursed item had been used to render its victim susceptible to suggestion and manipulation by those inclined to take advantage. Her father had deemed the item too dangerous to leave in the usual police lockup and so had taken it upon himself, as an agent of the DPA, to hide it away.

She bet that the inert duplicate forgery she had swapped it with was still undiscovered and unexamined, nestled as it was within the other random collection of magical toys he had stashed in the safe. Imagine his surprise should her mother actually inform him of what had happened - not that such was likely. Mother hated him with a powerful vengeance after discovering his affair; performing ‘sacred rites’ as he had with that pagan tramp.

Hence sending Erica away from California, all the way to the middle of nowhere in New Hampshire - guaranteeing that not only would her mother not have to deal with a daughter being in the way of her corporate ambitions, but the father would have no chance at easy visitation either. Not that the judge had given him much of that to begin with after the picture her mother’s lawyer had painted of him in the courtroom.

Erica wasn’t even sure her mother had bothered to inform him just which school on the East Coast she had shuffled her daughter off to. Legally, according to the divorce decree, it wasn’t even required. Her father was an idiot as far as Erica was concerned, and had let himself be steamrolled by the court. A trait she was determined not to duplicate.

And that crystal of Tamara’s! As a technomage it had granted Erica incredible ways to bypass the usual cyber-securities surrounding her intended targets. Most governmental and corporate agencies still hadn’t learned to coordinate between their magical and technical security divisions, leaving such deliciously wide open varieties of gaps to exploit.

Which was her specialty.

Not being a fool she had not wasted the opportunity, short as it turned out to be. Across the nation and the world, the backdoor accounts she had created by use of her blend of magic tech-manipulations as merged with the scrying crystal’s abilities all now waited for her. Her triumph was discovering a way to extend the range of the far-seeing orb. By gaining root access to a remote computer system, she was able to energetically link that system’s physical location to the crystal and thus allow Tamara to project the crystal’s scrying as if it was sitting in that far distant computer’s casing.

Ingenious, wasn’t it? The correspondences and alignments were painstaking to create, relying exclusively on her own unique electro-magnetic talents, but it worked. For the entire summer Fields had been the world’s foremost hacker, or at least within the top ten. As that idiot Hector Greenbaum had discovered to his family’s misfortune. He should never have rigged that hacker contest they competed in after finals the way he did, the jerk.

Now however, she was stuck waiting for a flight to Chicago, and then to wherever she decided to go next. Fake identifications had already been created to provide for such necessities, the only thing she lacked was a ready flow of cash.

To solve this she figured she could kill two birds with one stone.

With the interference of that bitch Jordan, Tamara’s link with the pendant had become too strong. It must have fed off the anger and indignation the redhead had sparked and used it fully to its advantage. Smart move on its part, but a pain in the ass for Erica. Whatever nasty spirit lurked within the item clearly had started pushing Tamara beyond her limits, corrupting her thinking so far that she became reckless and therefore a liability. So Erica did what she always did when faced with any kind of threat.

She had plunged herself into the net for more information about her subject, Jordan Emrys, at the same time as doing what she could to cover for Tamara’s mistakes. And preparing escape routes should it become necessary.

At first blush her search into the annoying exemplar’s history yielded very little. In fact, Jordan’s lack of presence on the Internet was disturbing and caused her to dig even deeper.

To her surprise more information began to appear out of nowhere. Yearbook photos of a plain brown-haired girl with glasses popped up to fill the odd gaps between years that had been empty moments before. Archived social media started to contain references of a boring girl and her life as a normal student at Santa Barbara High. Day by day, even hour by hour, a web of data comprising a complete yet ordinary life appeared.

That’s when Erica understood what it meant. Someone was creating that history out of whole cloth. In fact, with proper analysis, she even traced it back to the very DPA office where her father worked. The agency had faked Jordan’s entire life history, and then shipped her off to Whateley so she could hide.

But hide from what was the question.

It was obviously something big. The DPA systems were busy even now making that background as tight as possible - an effort indicating a rather high priority. If she hadn’t caught on during its creation, she doubted she would have been able to spot the fakery later. It was that good. And while she was confident with time she could tackle the DPA’s own systems, she had noted their own protections did indeed employ a mix of technology and magic - even devisor-based security.

Far too risky to attempt without weeks if not months of planning and observations.

So now, with many hours remaining before her flight, she decided to scratch two itches of irritation: accomplishing revenge on Jordan and also filling the coffers of her hidden bank accounts.

Connecting to the airport’s wifi, Erica began to hop through the numerous proxies she used to prevent any back-trace to her own IP address and therefore her physical location. And even if some organization tried to trace it later, she would already be on her way elsewhere to an even busier hub where with a swap of identification she would simply disappear.

She wasn’t even sitting at the gate of the airline she would board to leave this dead-end place behind.

With a considerable amount of smugness she posted on one of the more mercenary underground hacker boards. A snippet of the campus security footage taken of Jordan right after being kicked through the wall of the gym, including the moment where the girl’s glow of power turned off. She had edited the video to remove the gym wall and lawn, in fact everything except for Jordan herself was blanked out.

Along with the video she included a simple message: $250k will buy the current location of this individual. One time offer for exclusive transaction.

She sat back to wait. If it was hot enough it shouldn’t take long.

On that score she was wildly correct. Just not in the way she had intended.

Within ten minutes her magic senses triggered as the numerous mystic wards she had placed on her own laptop started to pop. It was impossible - she had already logged out of the hacker system, there shouldn’t have been anything to trace. Even the email notification system was routed through a set of anonymizing relays. But all that obviously didn’t matter to whoever was attacking her computer - and they were using magic directly and not tech to do so. And no ordinary magic at that - the multitude of layered wards that had taken hours each to create were peeling off the device like someone casually licking its way to the center of a Tootsie-Pop.

To her mounting horror, as each protective spell fizzled into black electric ash before her magical sight, she realized that the attack was proceeding crosswise through alternating dimensions.

Trying to remain as calm as possible she turned off the laptop and unplugged it, going so far as to pop out first its battery and then its hard drive. Looking around the airport, she wondered if the attacker was nearby and just messing with a random target. Or could her posting have triggered something worse? Could they be using a scrying crystal and were a technomage like herself? Except she was sure no human magus could skirt realities with such speed and ease. The thought began to terrify her.

With the instinct of startled prey, her eyes darted about the scene in the airport. With a gulp she noticed two MCO officers staring at her from the doors by a different flight’s gate. With her magic senses already on high alert, she gasped as the eyes of both officers went solid black as if their eyes had just been sucked into a bottomless pit.

They began to walk in her direction.

Barely containing her panic, she shoved her laptop and components back into her travel bag, preparing to run the other way.

A woman’s voice stopped her cold.

“There’s no point in running, girl. The dogs have acquired your scent.”

Erica spun in her seat. A woman, dressed conspicuously in a sparkling silver evening gown complete with crystalline high heels, had appeared in the seat right beside her. She sat with one lengthy leg casually crossing the other while hair the same shade of glimmering silver as her dress cascaded alongside a sharply angular yet beautiful face - and also revealed one ear as being rather pointed.

Having attended Whateley for over a year, Erica recognized two things about the woman immediately. She was clearly of the sidhe bloodlines, plus she was only an astral projection and not physically present.

“Who are you?” Erica hissed while her eyes darted back to the two officers. They were still making their way closer, albeit attempting to be casual and circuitous in their approach.

“Your true ticket out of here, if you are brave enough to take it,” the woman replied. “Take a look behind and you will see that the two officers are not the only dogs that have been set upon you.”

Peeking over her shoulder, Erica saw one of the gate attendants and even one of the random passengers showing eyes that were just as black as the MCO agents’.

“What do you want?” Erica asked, trying her best to mask her creeping desperation.

“I want you, of course. You intrigue me and have made the monitoring of all the fascinating specimens through this terminal even more interesting than I could have hoped for. Pledge yourself to me as one of my loyal vassals and you will not be harmed by these pups who clearly will not hold your best interests at heart.”

“What if they’re already your agents and you’re trying to trick me?”

“Ah, so you do have some intelligence after all! Good. I have cast no glamour upon your mind, child. And they are not servants of mine. Choose quickly, or I can do nothing to aid you - and you would be left to their mercy, or rather their lack thereof.”

Erica’s mind raced. She might be able to get past them, but wait, no…two more black eyeless people were standing further down the corridor. How’d they get everywhere! It was so unfair!

She was trapped. The sidhe, she knew, had to keep their bargains once made - she had been taught that much. She thought quickly.

“If I agree, you will grant me safe passage? And promise to not harm me?”

“Safe passage from here, yes. As for lack of harm - child, as one of my vassals you will bear the responsibilities and onuses that such a position would place upon you. To be sure I will take full advantage of my end of the arrangement, and harm is always a possible outcome while in the service of one greater than yourself. But as your sworn Lady I can promise to endeavor to minimize those chances in all the ways a true royal is bound towards their subjects. Except when absolutely necessary in the defense of my realm and its honor, of course. But best choose now, time is up.” She said the last rather gaily, as if whatever choice Erica made mattered very little to her.

The MCO guys with their endless dark eye sockets were within twenty feet. Fifteen feet.

Ten feet.

“Fine!” Erica blurted loudly. “I accept!”

A predatory smile curled along the woman’s lips. “Say it twice more. Quickly!”

“I accept! I accept!” Something within Erica’s own magic pulsed powerfully. She wondered what she had just gotten herself into.

“Thrice spoken and done!” Silver moon-crescent earrings chimed as the woman hopped to her feet, putting herself between Erica and the approaching officers. “Gentlemen! Your task here is over. This child is under my protection, understand? Report that to your master.”

The two men stopped dead in their tracks, gazing without seeing towards the grinning lady who remained utterly non-plussed by their sightless visage. After a long and intimidating pause, one opened his mouth to speak - but the sound that oozed forth came from much farther away.

Why are you interfering, Fionnabhair? This is no concern of yours.

The menace and power in that voice rippled over Erica’s skin, causing her legs to weaken - yet the woman simply chuckled.

“Because I want to. And because this girl just pledged herself to me. Furthermore, Grigori, be reminded that you owe me. A rather substantial amount.” The last was said with an edge sharp enough to cut through steel.

She has information we require. We will have it.

The woman waved an elegantly manicured hand dismissively. “Entirely irrelevant at this point, don’t you think? Unless you are stating that you have a true claim, which would be rather odd considering she is clearly not one of yours - neither in spirit nor in marks. Whereas she has accepted my offer to join my House, and therefore anything I grant you from hereon would simply be a gesture of courtesy. Of course, if you wish to escalate events and renege on your bonded debts then it is not just me you would have to fear from the consequences.”

A low rumbling laugh twisted and folded through the open mouth of the mindless agent.

You always were an opportunist, Fionnabhair.

“And yet a successful one, would you not agree?” The fae lady tilted her head with amusement.

Only so far. But enough, even we must acknowledge your claim, both of the child and the measure of the debt owed you and your House.

With a curtsy the lady accepted her victory. “Excellent. Then in exchange for her personal items, including the electrical bauble you were so busily interfering with moments ago, your lackeys can see to the girl’s needs in being returned bodily to her mother’s care - with no harm visited upon her, not even unto a single strand of her hair.”

So be it.

“What?” Erica said with alarm and, to her own surprise, a measure of relief. “You’re just going to send me back to my mom?”

The tall slender sidhe assessed her newest bound vassal. “Oh no, dear child. For now you shall be coming with me. Your body, however, must remain behind as it is ill-suited to travel to my domain as things currently stand. Thus it will be by necessity a burden - one which your mother can easily afford to sustain in your absence. I prefer things tidy, don’t you?”

Before Erica could utter a syllable of protest the lady made a sharp complicated gesture with a single silver painted fingernail and disappeared.

The two MCO agents watched passively as Erica’s body crumpled unconscious to the floor. Only then did one nudge the travel bag under the gate terminal’s plastic chair with his foot, revealing upon its front the embroidered Whateley crest.

Far away, deeply buried under the mountains of Syria, the terrible voice laughed and its rolling laughter echoed around the globe within the many thousands of conquered minds it had claimed for its own.

 

 

Continued in Book Two: Light's Promise

 

 

If you have enjoyed this story so far, please let me know below! Thank you for reading and for everyone's support!

- Erisian

 

Light's Promise (Part 1 of 6)

by Erisian

 

Chapter 1 - Brotherhood

A cool breeze hinted at Autumn’s approach being only weeks away, although the direct sun had yet to relinquish its warm grip on Summer. The campus had been busy with the rush of vans and cars signaling the arrival of students both new and returning in a frenetic dance of luggage, computers, personal accessories, and even some fancy stereo systems. Almost all attendees had moved into their respective cottages and gone through the required orientations for the upcoming school year. I say ‘almost’ because we were missing one very important student.

My niece, Danielle, had yet to arrive.

The uneasy feeling in the stomach couldn’t shake the impression that something bad had happened, but as no one had said otherwise I was trying to ignore it. It’s not like I could call my ex-brother-in-law Mark and ask what was up, not after Director Goodman had made it painfully clear that any such actions would jeopardize the cover story for my new identity. Whether I wanted to or not, I had to keep quiet and go about being just another student at the school preparing for the upcoming term.

Strolling out of Kirby Hall after picking up my updated and official class schedule, I spotted Maia doing the same. As soon as she stepped out she smiled and spun about with arms wide to bask in the sun's warmth, her maple bark-colored skin and leafy-green hair soaking up the rays. That wasn’t a euphemism; given her tree nymph mutation she literally was pulling energy from the sunlight.

“Maia!” I called out, trying to get her attention.

“Oh, hey Jordan,” she said with eyes unfocused and dreamy.

“You heading to the cafeteria?”

“Hmm sure. Is it lunchtime?” She blinked and lowered her arms.

“Yep. You should probably eat. Were you out here getting your classes too?” I waved the printout of the schedule the rabbi had handed me.

“Nah, I got mine a week ago. I was just scouting out the classrooms so come Monday I’ll know where all the rooms are.”

“That’s a good idea. Maybe I’ll do that this afternoon.”

We walked together along the road towards the Crystal Hall and past Administration. The flag on the pole today was red which was not too surprising. Many of the parents liked to drop their kids off personally to remind themselves why they were spending all their money on tuition. They knew it was a school for mutants and special kids and everything, but that didn’t mean they were ready for the truly different ones. Seeing your own child about to attend classes with velociraptors can be unnerving, not to mention the poor kids sporting far too many tentacles. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how the jerk preppies at my old high school would have reacted to these new classmates. They likely would have fled in horror to the security of their BMWs and immediately crashed into each other in the ensuing panic.

“Kinda late for schedule changes, you having issues with yours?” Maia asked curiously, looking askance at my evil smile.

I shrugged, letting go of the amusing daydream. “Well, first the administration insisted I TA a pre-calc class after hearing about my helping Tamara pass her Algebra final. Then they wasted a few days debating the results from all the additional powers testing stuff. They’re mandating I not use any powers in the lab or even at martial arts until I learn better control. The effects on others is considered too risky. So I’ll be doing independent lab-work with the rabbi instead.”

Maia flushed at being reminded of the time in the cafeteria when she’d been overwhelmed by my powering up. I had done so to deal with a demon-possessed bully, but she had experienced the backwash. She hadn’t asked me to do it again since, and I hadn’t offered - it had been a rather awkward moment. Her enjoyment of the sun just now? Yeah, it was like that - except tripled.

A Lincoln Towncar with tinted windows drove past, pulling into a visitor spot further on and out front of the administration building. A professional driver stepped out and politely opened the rear passenger door. My heart leapt as a familiar white-haired young lady came bouncing forth, her neck craning about to take in the sights.

My grin returned, much wider this time. “Finally!”

Maia followed my stare. “Someone you know?”

“Uhm, yeah. I was hoping she’d get accepted.”

She smiled. “Cool!”

The driver went around to the other side. My old friend Isaiah stepped out, dressed to the nines as if on his way to court.

I stopped dead in my tracks. What the hell was Isaiah doing here? Where was Mark?

“Something wrong?” Maia asked, sensing my mood shift from joy to alarm.

“Maybe. She’s not with her…uncle. Instead she’s with a lawyer.”

Danielle and Isaiah climbed the steps to Schuster Hall while the driver plopped back into the car with the flair of someone expecting a long wait. He hadn’t even gotten any luggage out of the trunk. Not a good sign.

“Hey Maia?” I said while glowering at the back of that car. “Mind eating without me?”

“No worries, but what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet. But thanks!” The last was shouted over a shoulder, feet were already running towards the Hall to find out.

~o~O~o~

Sprinting into the foyer, I caught sight of the two being escorted up the stairs by Mrs. Shugendo. I knew where those stairs lead as Mrs. Carson’s office was up there. Great.

If Isaiah was here, could there be some legal problem with Danielle’s application? And still, why wasn’t Mark with them? He was supposed to be her guardian, had his injuries been worse than they’d let on?

Pulling out a shiny new smart-phone, I made the only call that might get answers without screwing things up. When she answered I didn’t give her a chance to even say hello.

“Natalie! Why the hell is Isaiah here?”

“Jordan! And a good morning to you too! Where are you?”

“Administration. Danielle and Isaiah just went upstairs with Mrs. Shugendo.”

“Mmm…well, they have an appointment with Mrs. Carson at eleven.”

“You aren’t answering the question, Natalie. It should be Mark here with her, and the driver should be busy unloading her bags but isn’t. What gives?”

There was a long pause.

“Natalie? You there?”

“Yes…look, Jordan, there are things I was told not to tell you-”

“By whom? Goodman? Shit.”A surge of anger threatened to release a torrent of energy, but it got shoved down in time. Brightening the foyer with mystical light would definitely be a red flag violation.

Natalie sighed. “I suppose since they are already here the cat is out of the bag. There were legal complications - the courts enjoined Mark from taking custody of Danielle. I’m sorry.”

“WHAT?”

The senior running the front’s information booth looked up at the loud outburst. I turned away to face the community message board on the wall, ignoring their look of disapproval.

“Child Services got involved, making the case that the DPA - including Mark - had been careless with her safety, and even laid the blame for your death at their feet.”

I resisted an urge to put a hole in the wall right through all those stapled messages.

“Natalie. If she got shoved into foster care…and you didn’t tell me…”

“Jordan. You need to be calm-”

“Calm? You want me to be calm? Did the system just fuck over my niece? Yes or no!”

“Your friend Isaiah Cohen intervened. From what I understand, he blitzed the court system with a towering stack of motions; the judge granted his petitions and awarded him with full custody. Now breathe in, slowly.”

“Why…why didn’t anyone tell me about this?”

“We were directed not to because you are still considered dangerously volatile.”

“Did this screw up her application to the school?”

“Not at all. Just possibly delayed things.”

“Delayed? How?”

She sighed. “Mr. Cohen. He’s refusing to sign the paperwork. He’s not convinced Whateley will be in her best interest.”

Fuck. I bet I knew why, too. “Let me guess. He thinks she should stay with what semblance of family she still has. And Isaiah probably has a plan on how to let Mark visit her to maintain the continuity of his support.”

“Good guess.”

“You people are idiots.” Thumbing ‘End Call’, I ran for the stairs.

I knew what I had to do.

~o~O~o~

It didn’t take long to reach Carson’s reception room having bounded up the stairs three at a time.

Natalie must have figured things out as the path to Carson’s closed inner door was already blocked by a young blonde woman with an expression that would be the envy of many drill sergeants. Her reputation was well known: ‘Hardass’ Hartford - the Assistant Headmistress.

“Stop right there, Ms. Emrys!”

“There’s a man in there I need to talk to. Now.” Our eyes locked, stubbornness to stubbornness.

“Mrs. Carson is in a private meeting. Furthermore there are instructions in place to prevent you from interfering. Security is already en-route, young lady.”

Rumors claimed Hartford was an exemplar, certainly her physical beauty attested as much although her cold anger ruined the whole effect. I wondered how much detention they’d nail me with if I smashed her through the door.

As I took a step forward she placed herself in a fighting stance. “Go ahead and try me if you dare.”

I grinned with a better idea.

Inhaling as deep as possible I shouted at the top of my lungs, “Isaiah Cohen! Get your ass out here! Isaiah!”

“Why you little-” Hartford lunged and tried to grab me, but I managed to dodge and shoved a chair between us.

“ISAIAH! Get out here, dammit!”

“Cease this nonsense! Immediately!” Mrs. Carson’s command boomed across the office.

I backed up. “I will if she will!”

“Amelia.” Mrs. Carson said in a tone brooking no argument. While Hartford’s anger was scary, Carson won. The Assistant Headmistress glared daggers of hate in my direction but lowered her hands.

Standing behind Carson was Isaiah. He stared with open curiosity. “Do I know you?” he asked with a touch of amusement.

Danielle wedged herself past him and instantly blurted, “Jordan!”

Isaiah frowned. “You know this girl?”

I spoke up. “She does. So do you. And we need to talk.”

Mrs. Carson tapped her cheek contemplatively, then inclined her head in my direction - so very slightly that I might have been the only one to notice. “Yes, I believe the two of you really should have a chat.”

As far as I was concerned, Mrs. Carson had just proven herself wiser than the entirety of the damn DPA.

~o~O~o~

We were shown to a conference room. Mrs. Shugendo took Danielle to give her the campus tour, but only after getting Isaiah’s permission - and after Danielle had given me a hard and long hug. I whispered to her that it would all be okay, and with a nervous nod she left with Mrs. Shugendo.

Mrs. Carson was the last one out, closing the door as she went. We were alone, just Isaiah sitting in his perfectly tailored suit-coat, tie, and suspenders, me in jeans and a t-shirt spelling out ‘DOOM’ in the classic game’s iconic lettering.

After we sat down, he spent a moment studying me from behind rimless glasses. The man was slightly shorter than me with clean-shaven and sharp features under a professional hairstyle. It was obvious that in the last ten years or so he hadn’t gotten to the gym much - not that he was fat or anything, he just had that middle-aged stomach spread that we all fight against. Well, that I used to fight against.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Alright, you wanted to talk. So talk.”

I pulled out a twenty dollar bill and slid it across the table. “You should take this first.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I should?”

“Retainer. Gives you attorney-client privilege.”

“If you wish to sue the secretary for assault, you’ll need a different attorney. My practice is in California, nor does assault fall into the purview of my law specialty.”

“What? Sue Ms. Hartford?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “As funny as that would be, no - that’s not it at all. Besides, she never touched me.”

He crossed his arms, revealing a rather expensive watch. Huh, he’d gotten a new one since the last time I’d seen him. “Young lady, get to the point please. You’ve already caused quite an interruption to my day.”

A snerk at his calling me ‘young lady’ almost escaped, but business first. “If you want to know what the DPA has been hiding from you, take the twenty. I want you covered by that client-attorney privilege.”

Eyes narrowing suspiciously he picked up the money. “I’ll need to know your full name.”

“My driver’s license says, ‘Jordan Elin Emrys’.”

“I see. Then, Ms. Emrys, for at least the next thirty minutes, I agree to be your attorney - with no guarantees of any action other than providing counsel. Speak.”

“That’ll do,” I said, still trying to figure out the best way to do this. “I’ll, uh, get to the point. Your friend Justin Thorne - he’s alive.”

Hope flickered briefly before raw anger slammed over it as he crushed the twenty. “If this is some kind of sick joke, you will not like the consequences.”

“No joke, Isaiah! Just…just listen, okay? I don’t know what all they’ve told you - and I do know that Danielle was sworn to secrecy and was intimidated pretty seriously about it. But as only one part of the whole mess was specifically declared to me to be ‘classified’, I think I can tell you the rest. They just won’t like it.”

He had been about to angrily interrupt but the mention of information being ‘classified’ gave him pause.

Into that opening I plowed ahead. “Justin got home from work on that crazy day in L.A. to find the door of his house blown off, with a trail of tornado damage running to Danielle’s room. She was gone-”

“I already know that.” He cut me off with a sharp gesture. “What has not been made clear are the circumstances of his death two days later.”

“Yeah, sure, he was attacked when he tried to go home, but did they tell you that in rescuing Danielle that first night how he’d been changed?”

“Changed?”

“Majorly. Not mentally, mind you, but physically. Completely transformed.”

He hesitated, still furious but willing to think. “That could explain the MCO agent pushing the DPA in odd directions at the custody hearings.”

MCO? “Wait, the MCO was involved in trying to shove Danielle into foster care?” The bastards!

Isaiah noted the emotional reaction. “They were quite insistent, yet also seemed rather frustrated as if there were things they were unable to say in open court. If anything, the whole case smelled of them trying to put pressure on the DPA.”

I growled. “Goodman is going to get an earful if I ever get him on the phone again.”

“The DPA Director? You know him?”

“Look, dude. Just let me tell the damn story from the beginning.”

He put the twenty into an inner coat pocket. “I’m all ears.”

I started over.

~o~O~o~

This time he let me get all the way through. His brows had narrowed even further when I got to the part of Justin choosing a new name. What I didn’t describe was the ritual details in the storage unit as that was the classified information I’d been warned about - and I didn’t want to give Goodman any playing cards for when I reamed him over how close Danielle had come to being lost into foster care. I also didn’t mention to Isaiah about being an angel - I figured that would blow my credibility out of the water as far as he’d be concerned. One step at a time, right?

Oh, and I only said that they had arranged a scholarship for me - he’d disapprove heavily about taking any money from a guy like Callas Soren, you know, the suspected terrorist who started the entire mess.

I knew Isaiah would be mad about what had happened - what I didn’t expect was to be the major target of that rage.

“You expect me to believe this? That you, sitting here before me as a girl not old enough to vote, are actually my friend Justin Thorne?”

“Look, Isaiah, I can prove it - ask me anything! Stuff that only I should know! Ask me about random trivia from all the role-playing games we did in college, anything!”

“In a world where the capacity for mind-reading has been proven, you think that’s acceptable? For all I know, you are another ploy by the DPA to manipulate my ward. An attempt to get Danielle isolated where they can control her, and maybe use her as bait again like they obviously did to Justin. This school is full of talented psychics; you could easily pull those memories straight from my mind!”

“Whoa, whoa…I’m no psychic! Crazy energy slinger sure, but not psychic! And what the heck do you mean about using me as bait?”

“Sending Justin home with a single agent, especially with said agent being family, is absolutely absurd given the dangers of the situation. Dangling bait on the line to see what monster might bite!”

I thought about it and also got upset. “If they did, then Goodman is a double bastard for using Mark like that. Dammit, Isaiah - Mark almost died!”

“Yet you claim you saved him.”

“I tried to! How much I succeeded or not, I don’t really know. An ambulance showed up in time and they’re the ones who really saved him and got him stitched up.”

He studied me. “All of this is academic. I know for a fact you cannot be Justin.”

I blinked. “What?”

His face contorted with fury. “Because my best friend, the man I trusted as a brother, would have never kept me in the dark - he would never have let me believe him dead!”

Isaiah’s rage slammed into me like a thunderbolt. “But-”

“No buts! I don’t care if you have Justin’s memories, stolen somehow maybe, it doesn’t matter. My brother is dead!”

Guilt flooded me.

“Dammit, you’re right. You’re right! I should have called you!” I shouted back. “But you know why I haven’t? Because it might have risked Danielle! Look - you are the executor of my estate. The DPA set me up with a whole new identity to try and hide me from the scum behind the assassin sent to kill me. If you knew I was alive, how could you legally process my will and get Danielle the funds she needed to live? Let alone allow her to come here, a school where maybe - for the first time in her life - she could be accepted for who and what she was. Not to mention it might have jeopardized your law license to perpetuate a knowing fraud on the court. I couldn’t do that to you, that license is your whole life!”

“If the government purposely declares someone dead as a matter of national security, then legally they are dead. It wouldn’t have mattered if I knew or not as a matter of law.”

I spluttered. “But…but that’s not what they told me.” I rocked back in my chair, flabbergasted. Why would the DPA have encouraged such a lie?

Isaiah removed his glasses and slowly rubbed his forehead. “The Department of Paranormal Affairs has a track record of obfuscation. The Director likely believed that the fewer number of people who knew, the better to sell the cover they were creating.”

“And I fell for it. Wanting to protect you and Danielle. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

He stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

“Now you are starting to sound like my friend.”

~o~O~o~

He still put me through the wringer, of course, asking question after question to verify that I was indeed Justin transformed. No topic was off-limits either, and the jerk had me in tears recounting yet again the loss of my wife and sister.

We even argued about some of our past escapades as we clearly had different memories of certain events. For those we had to agree to disagree, although with my exemplar memory I was damned sure I had things correct.

After over an hour of this I was starving but he was still going strong and busy probing trivia from our role-playing game exploits.

“In your Arthurian Campaign,” he asked, “what did Gawain do when we all burst into Arthur’s bedroom and found Lancelot and Guenevere in his bed instead?”

“C’mon, man. Let’s break for lunch. How much more of this do you need?”

“Are you saying you are unable to answer?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. He picked up the entire four-poster bed and chucked it. Which is how Morgause’s infertility charm that kept Gwen barren all those years was discovered. Can we eat now?”

He nodded, still maintaining a lawyerly poker face. “Food would indeed be welcome. But don’t think this break is in any way to be construed as me accepting your story.”

I sighed. “Fine. Though I’m really not sure what else I can say to convince you. Look, there’s a restaurant over at Dunn’s Hall. I haven’t tried it yet, but I’ll buy.”

“I can pay for my own.”

Shaking my head I said, “Not happening. It’s the least I can do - you saved Danielle from Child Services and even flew all the way out here. I know how busy you are. ”

When we got to Carson’s office, Hartford icily informed us that Mrs. Shugendo and Danielle were still touring the campus and that Mrs. Shugendo would provide Danielle with lunch. The Headmistress had left instructions that I should escort Isaiah for his inspection of the campus and to meet back here by three.

On the way to Dunn’s we passed a few Thornies who all cheerily greeted me by name (or by calling me ‘Red’, the nickname I was having a hard time shaking off). After the fourth one, I had a disturbing thought that they all had assumed that Isaiah was my father. The mere notion gave me the willies; I’d have to disabuse everyone of that later somehow because yeesh.

As for Isaiah, he stayed mostly quiet and observant while I pointed out the sights on the way to the restaurant. Once there we were led to a booth in the back away from everyone else (as had always been his preference) and after a quiet span a young waiter who was likely also a student came by to take our order.

I went first. “Could I get the Italian sandwich and an iced tea? Thanks.”

The kid looked at Isaiah expectantly. With a smug smile my friend simply said, “She’ll order for me.”

Good grief. Another test.

Thus began my interrogation of the poor waiter on their selection of juices before settling on ‘cranberry, with just a little bit of ice’, following up with asking what soups they had today, and finally choosing the chips and guacamole appetizer with a crispy chicken sandwich.

And no, the bread did not have any rosemary or thyme in it.

The waiter looked back at Isaiah just to be sure, and got a wordless nod of acceptance before heading off. I sat there awkwardly for a minute while Isaiah just stared in thoughtful consideration.

“You going to say something or just glare at me through lunch?” I said grumpily.

“It’s fascinating.”

“What is? This restaurant?” I made a show of looking around. “Looks pretty normal to me.”

“You are. Your mannerisms and speech patterns are those of my friend, but not entirely.”

“Not entirely? Well sorry, but it’s hard to be exactly the same as you were while wearing a bra and a school skirt.”

He shook his head. “That’s not it. Justin was always more introspective - whereas you waved back at those other students with open and unrestrained affection. Not to mention you’ve been wearing your heart on your sleeve during our entire conversation.”

I grumbled, “You try dying and coming back like this and see if it doesn’t change you.”

“Dying?” He sat up straight, hard focus returning. “You said ‘transformed’, not dead.”

“Urm, yeah.” I rubbed my face. “While pulling Danielle out of that storage unit, I uh…I died. And came back. Didn’t figure that out till much later when I finally remembered Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?”

“The archangel. She caught me and threw me back. Maybe she’d passed her limit of souls that day, you know - catch and release?”

His lawyerly calm took a serious hit from hearing that. Score one for me!

Making sure no one was nearby to overhear, I decided to give him more details. And because he latched immediately onto the idea of someone actually speaking to an angel, I had to mention Raphael too. Which meant, of course, I had to fill him in on the powers I’d been manifesting, the triple circle in my attic room, and what had happened with both Evie and Tamara. When our food arrived he was sitting there stunned into silence while trying to process it all.

As I took a large bite of my sandwich, he exclaimed, “You’re telling me that God gave you a new life?”

“Mmmph!” I shook my head, swallowing what I could. “Not exactly.”

“If Gabriel, one of God’s most trusted angels, sent you back - how could it be otherwise? You said this Nick person saw Justin’s body disintegrate.”

“Yes…but…look, I don’t really know, okay? With what I can do now, I’m wondering if I somehow created this body after plunging back - or perhaps Soren’s ritual did it. Gabriel caught me before I reached the light, yes, but she just watched me fall back here.”

“And you’ve spoken with the angel Raphael.”

“In dreams, sure - and when he helped me clean the filth that had invaded Tamara.”

His eyes boggled from behind his glasses.

“What?” I asked.

“You…you had contact with two divine beings! Did you not ask if it was all true?”

I was confused. “True?”

“The Torah! God, Heaven, the Host! Why mankind exists! The nature of the Creator!”

“Uh…it didn’t come up?”

He gaped at me in astonishment.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” I said defensively. “There were other things I had to worry about! Besides - after they fixed the middle circle and I could get back to that dream-place, Raphael hasn’t been there. So it’s not like they gave me the chance to ask anything else.”

With an unsteady hand he took a long pull from his juice, emptying the entire glass in one go.

“Do you,” he said while shaking his head, “have any idea how big this is?”

“What, me coming back to life? There are mutants and super-heroes doing all kinds of crazy stuff. Just look at the papers!”

He slammed the empty glass back on the table causing me to jump. “Not like this!”

“Uh…”

An angry finger pointed at me. “Divine intervention! The Host taking direct action influencing things here on Earth! According to the Torah the Age of Prophecy is over, and yet-”

“Dude. Judaism isn’t the only faith that has ties to angels. I know you were raised Jewish and all, but people believe angels are behind all kinds of things.”

“This is different,” he said with certainty. “Or the DPA wouldn’t have bent over backwards to keep you hidden. Giving you a new identity like this means they had pressing reasons on a larger scale to do so. Otherwise you would just be in protective custody, be given a superhero watchdog, that sort of thing.”

He had a point. Mark pushed the ‘hide by faked death’ angle immediately after encountering the gryphon. And the Director himself had then watched over me while I slept, not to mention went out of his way to get me set up at Whateley. Hey, wait a minute…

“You realize,” I said slyly, “that you just acknowledged I was Justin?”

He frowned. “I did not.”

“Nope, you did. I quote, ‘Giving you a new identity like this’…”

“It’s hypothetical.”

“Oh c’mon!” I couldn’t believe how stubborn he was being. “Look, tell you what. Put it aside for now and after lunch I’ll take you to see the rabbi. Would that help?”

“A rabbi?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Rabbi Immanuel Kirov. You’d like him. I bet you two could babble in Russian at each other. He’s my adviser and is trying to guide my powers development.”

He nodded. “That sounds good.” Taking a bite of his own sandwich he added, “And I still have questions regarding this school and whether it’s appropriate for Danielle.”

I wanted to bury my face in my hands. “How can you argue it’s not the best chance for her future?”

“This place is too dangerous,” he answered simply. “Your own story just now proves the point.”

“My…my what?”

He ticked the items off on his fingers. “A child who is a psychic projector almost triggers ragers across the campus. Another child was possessed by a demonic entity. The best of their magic staff is concerned you might blow up New England. And that’s just your first couple of weeks here, it doesn’t even begin to touch the previous events at this school. Did you know the campus was assaulted by Syndicate forces not so many years ago? Or that it has housed Class X entities? I’ve done my research, obviously more thoroughly than you have.”

Class X what now?

“Whether you are or are not Justin Thorne reincarnated does not matter. Danielle’s safety is now my paramount responsibility.”

“Think about it though,” I said, putting aside wondering what the heck a ‘Class X’ thing was. “Whatever happened in the ritual that did this to me also did some major things to her. Her power potential reaches the upper echelons of their charts - how safe will she be if she isn’t taught how to use and control her abilities properly? I don’t know of anywhere else she can get such training. And with the possibility of that assassin deciding to go after her too, is your home as secure as this campus both physically and magically? For that matter, how many magical healers are employed at Saint John’s Hospital in Santa Monica?”

His expression hardened. “That poor girl has lost too much family. The courts prevented Mark from taking custody, but I can make sure he can visit as often as he’d like to give her some continuity-”

“Dammit Isaiah, I am her family. That’s why I agreed to attend high school as a freaking student again - so I could be there for her!”

We glared at each other. To my surprise he broke the staring contest first. With a sigh he looked down at his sandwich. “Let’s eat and go see your rabbi.”

“Fine.” Angrily, I tore further into my sandwich. He ate his more slowly, with eyes haunted again by pain…and maybe, just maybe, hope.

~o~O~o~

Fortunately Rabbi Kirov was in his office when we arrived. After being introduced to Isaiah, Kirov waved me towards the newly crafted circle in the back half of his room so he and Isaiah could talk without me interrupting. A week ago he had prepared his office so I’d have another “contained space” I could use to power up without flooding anyone else with supercharged backwash. So far it had done the trick.

With the rabbi switching to incomprehensible Russian as I walked to the circle, it was fairly obvious that the front office had told him to expect our visit. I just hoped that a fellow stubborn ex-soviet Jew could penetrate Isaiah’s thick skull and help him see reason. I mean, I knew the school had its risks (hey, I’d lived them) but it seemed much worse for Danielle to not be surrounded by the support this place could provide. Not just from me but from all the teachers and staff who genuinely cared for their students and their progress.

The world she had entered as an even more enhanced mutant was going to be a lot more demanding and she needed the best foundation possible, not just to survive but to flourish. The same went for me, which is why I didn’t argue much over being shunted aside so they could talk privately. The more practice time I could get in the better.

Folding legs under my skirt while on the floor within the markings, I traced a hand over the white lines and Hebrew letters. I’d been studying Hebrew each night from one of the books Soren had sent, finding the improved memory making foreign language acquisition so much easier than the previous attempts in my first go through of high school. God, I hated memorization back then. Vocabulary lists were such a pain in the ass.

As such I could read what Kirov had inscribed: an invocation calling on God and four of the archangels: Uriel, Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel. Scattered about in immaculate Hebraic script were also the names of a number of other angels along with symbols designed to resonate Kirov’s intent of power-containment. As he’d explained, the whole design anchored on the names of the Most High: the higher name JHVH (whom he called “Hashem”, as you were never supposed to speak the name aloud) and Elohim, a name of God for when He acted within creation.

It was all rather baffling but he had said not to worry about that for now. The important thing, according to him, was the intent and the faith infusing the working: his belief and love for God.

Putting aside my own confused feelings towards the Almighty, I tried to control my breathing as Kirov had instructed. In and out, nice and slow. We had determined that the best way to ‘open up’ to that brilliant inner pillar was to focus on what mattered most to my heart. It sounds cheesy, but yeah - love opened that inner pipe wider than any other emotion.

Naturally I thought of Danielle. It always did the trick.

The resulting flood slammed instantly, threatening to spill out and turn me into a gigantic white LED. It wasn’t just a physical sensation but an emotional one - driving all feelings through the roof beyond the best highs I’d ever had in my previous life. Natalie had expressed concern about this - something about it stretching my capacity for emotional states beyond what was ‘healthy’.

I was more worried about it becoming addicting. But only after I’d recovered, because in the moment? It felt beyond natural.

It felt divine.

As the tingling sensations rammed their way under my skin, the energy rush pushed hard against some sort of built-in limiter. The tremendous pressure behind the stopgap was incomprehensible, so I was quite thankful it was there. Kirov had agreed there could be a risk of burnout should whatever this limiting factor was be breached - and he had anecdotal stories of previous rabbis reaching too high resulting in their death or madness. Kirov also expressed a further worrisome possibility: if unrestrained angelic energy ripped through my mind it could carry away my humanity.

As it was, containing even as ‘little’ as slipped through was problematic, which the current flickering under the skin demonstrated. It’s hard to hold in check the very thing that makes your spirit sing.

The rabbi had placed a single tea candle on a small aluminum tray and challenged me to channel only enough energy to light it. You know, without melting the entire thing into a sticky pool of wax. I’d spent a lot of time scrubbing that damn tray after each failed attempt. Still, I’d been getting better. The first try had caused hot white paraffin to explode all over my shirt and onto the nearby bookshelves. Getting to the point where it would only melt without bursting had been a minor victory in my opinion.

Little surprise then that after all the guilt and anger of the day I was having no luck. Every attempt to only send a trickle down my arm had the energy surging off on its own in random directions. I kept having to cut the flow completely and start all over.

The heated discussion in Russian behind me wasn’t helping much either. The more I thought of the possibility of Danielle not attending the school, the worse my control until finally I’d had enough. In a moment of internal pique I blurted loudly, “Screw it!” and let the resulting flash pulverize the candle to smithereens.

What I hadn’t noticed in my focused concentration was that the rabbi and Isaiah had walked over to watch. With that brilliant flare of power, wax exploded all over Isaiah’s pants and shoes. Chagrined, I looked upwards and accidentally blinded his astonished face with the light still streaming from my eyes.

“Oh shit. Sorry!” Eyelids snapped shut to cover the dang high-beams, and with effort I forced the plug back into the incoming energetic torrent - something that was getting harder to do every time.

Once the tower was locked down, I found Isaiah examining the quickly hardening wax splattered on his tailored slacks and designer Italian shoes. I waited for him to yell at me for making a mess.

The rabbi must have let slip about me being an angel and channeling from on high, as Isaiah said only one word in quiet awe:

“Adonai!”

 

Chapter 2 - Admission

 

Isaiah agreed to sign Danielle’s papers. He may have still been on the fence after his discussion with Rabbi Kirov and during the rest of the campus tour that I dragged him through, but when he saw Danielle’s face back at Mrs. Carson’s office I realized his objections had all become moot.

If I hadn’t just spent a couple weeks with kids who could literally light up (myself included), I’d have said her beaming grin was ‘glowing’. Her excitement was palpable - she launched into an exuberant monologue about the magic labs, awesome dorm rooms, and even gave a lavish description of the Crystal Hall Cafeteria.

My friend, bull-headed trial lawyer that he was, had met his match and was overcome by a bubbling teenage girl. The stubbornness set across his cheekbones melted away before her giddy onslaught. He was doomed.

Behind his back there was an exchange of knowing smiles between Mrs. Carson and Mrs. Shugendo before he was carefully guided into Mrs. Carson’s office where the papers awaited only his signature. As they went in I overheard her mention there may also be a case she could use his help on - and the help of his ‘prestigious law firm’. Unfortunately she closed the office’s door before I could hear anything more and a bouncing Danielle distracted me with a squealing embrace.

“He’s gonna sign! Oh my god, I was so sure he’d refuse! And I can’t believe you told him who you were!”

I laughed. “Hi to you too! Slow down, hon, and don’t forget to breathe.”

Mrs. Shugendo cleared her throat. “First things first, young lady. We have a room for you in Dickinson Cottage; I presume you have some luggage waiting in the hired car?”

“Hmm?” She released her hold on my ribs. “Oh, yes! I’ve got a bag of stuff; not a lot, though, Uncle Isaiah didn’t let me pack everything. He’ll probably ship more out.”

“You don’t need much,” I said. “We all have to wear uniforms anyway.” I gestured down at my blouse and skirt.

Mrs. Shugendo magically produced a school I.D. card with Danielle’s picture on it. I gave the dean a suspicious look, but she just smiled back professionally. I guess both she and Carson had been confident that Isaiah would be won over. If I was a paranoid sort, I’d have wondered if my appointment with Kirov to get my updated schedule hadn’t been deliberately timed for me to see Danielle and Isaiah arrive.

Nah, that had to have been coincidence.

Handing Danielle her new passport to all things Whateley, Mrs. Shugendo said, “Have Miss Emrys take you to Dickinson and help you with your things. Your I.D. has already been activated to work at the cafeterias; I suggest you both get some dinner and then come back here by six-thirty so you can say your goodbyes to Mr. Cohen. I believe Mrs. Carson intends to dine with him while discussing other matters.”

“Other matters?” My brow furrowed suspiciously.

Mrs. Shugendo raised an eyebrow of her own in response. “School matters, Miss Emrys. Move along, you two.”

“Hmph,” I said. “C’mon, Danielle. Let’s get your stuff.”

She looked between me and Mrs. Shugendo in consideration before she agreed. “Yeah, okay!”

We trooped out of the office and down the stairs to where the bored driver was trying to nap. Danielle giggled as she rapped loudly on the trunk. “Wake up, dude! I want my things!”

The guy stumbled out of the car, looking at us both in some confusion. “Where’s Mr. Cohen?”

“He’s got a dinner date with the Headmistress,” I said. “If you need to eat, hit one of the restaurants. He’ll be back some time after six-thirty.”

“I…oh. Thanks.”

He popped the trunk and Danielle grabbed her travel bag.

“Your cottage is this way - around Kane Hall there and close to Dunn.” I pointed in the general direction.

She nodded, but her mind was stuck on other things. “Jordan? You told Isaiah who you were! I thought the DPA said that could mess things up.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, he needed to know. Pretty sure Kirov even let the whole ‘being an angel’ thing out of the bag as well, but Isaiah was too lost in thought on the way back over to talk about it. There are also some questions about what the DPA has been up to about all this. More importantly, you okay? Sounds like the past couple weeks were pretty crazy.”

“Oh my god, you have no idea. Child Services filed court motions to stop Uncle Mark from getting custody! And wow, I’ve never seen your friend Isaiah so mad as when Mark called about it. He was livid! He pulled an all-night typing marathon and marched into court the next day. He refused to let me go with him, so I had to spend the day with his secretary, Tracy. She’s nice.”

“I hope he took his blood pressure medicine properly during all of that.” When we were younger we could pull all-nighters and suffer practically no ill-effects, but those days were long gone. Isaiah had already worked himself into one heart attack a few years back (which he had joked was a rite of passage for all serious attorneys) - all of this new stress had better not trigger another one.

Which just left me feeling even more guilty about having not told him earlier that I was alive. Crap.

“He seemed okay, just tired. But, as he put it, he ‘totally kicked ass’ in court - shutting down their motion, preventing the MCO from dragging the DPA into it further, and protecting me by taking custody. We talked before he did that too - he said it’d be my choice, but made sure I knew what was going on and the risks before I decided. Uncle Mark is really sad about it, though, I could hear it in his voice when we spoke on the phone.”

“Is Mark alright? He get out of the hospital yet?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he’s doing better. Stuck at a desk at work, but busy. He wouldn’t say on what, of course. I had lunch with him there a few times.”

“You went back to the DPA?”

“Diego wanted to start my magic training, and Isaiah agreed it was a good idea.”

“He did? Even after the custody fiasco?”

She grinned. “After I accidentally filled his living room with snow when taking a nap, yeah.”

I stopped walking. “Wait a minute, I thought I was the trigger for you doing that.”

Pausing her own step, she shook her head. “You were - but then I started having these dreams.” She looked off to the side. “They’re…they’re kind of intense.”

Frowning, I asked, “How so?”

She stared over my shoulder towards the late afternoon sun. “Diego thinks they’re from a previous lifetime. We think my spirit was a sidhe in the distant past - and between my mutation plus the whole crazy ritual abduction thing and the power overload, it’s woken up.”

The implications started to sink in. “Are you-”

“Am I okay?” she interrupted. “Yeah, I’m alright. I’ve even learned some magic from those memories, which is pretty cool. Diego said that he knows other sidhe have gone to school here, and that the teachers would have experience on how best to help me with it all. It’s just…weird, I guess. I have moments where I feel like I’m someone else, you know? Yet I’m still me.” She shrugged.

I stared at her. Was this the same little girl who had clutched at my hand only a couple months back? She’d been through yet another scary episode when Soren kidnapped her, but now she stood there exuding a cautious confidence and those new icy-pale eyes held a spark of firm determination.

“Speaking of feeling like you’re someone else, how are you doing?” she asked. “With the whole, uhm, transformation thing. I mean, you look great - and really natural in that skirt.” She giggled, prompting me to stick my tongue out at her.

“I’m still me, if that’s what you’re asking. Just slowly getting more used to it all. It’s been a busy couple weeks for me too, actually.” I smiled.

“Really? How so?”

Visions of Evie’s dark projections and Tamara’s demon flashed within my mind. “Eh, I’ll fill you in later. Most importantly is that Khan is doing well! He’s been making friends with everyone in my cottage, pretty sure he’s more popular than I am.”

She laughed. “That’s no surprise, he’s an awesome kitty.”

“You better believe it! Now, let’s get you to your new room. You’ll probably have a roommate too.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. Hope she’s nice.”

~o~O~o~

Danielle’s roommate was polite, albeit non-forthcoming on details about herself. She appeared to be Japanese but had a west coast accent and said she was from Seattle. Her name was Haruko Kurohoshi, and she was a freshman like Danielle.

I wondered if the girl was disappointed that she had been assigned a roommate at the last moment instead of having the room to herself for the term. She didn’t say anything to that effect, but she certainly stared at us both rather intently. I even wondered if I had started glowing or something, but nope - she was watching Danielle just as cautiously.

Haruko also had a set of Japanese swords on a stand resting atop her dresser: a katana and a wakazashi. With the way the wrappings on the hilt showed the wear of use, I didn’t think the blades were merely decorative. She had been reclining on a bed reading a Japanese manga book when we arrived, and hadn’t gotten up.

While Danielle busily unpacked her suitcase (which I swear must have been a Tardis or a Bag of Holding, because good grief more things came out of it than could possibly have fit in there), I got the sheets onto her bed, clean cases on her pillows, and the blankets all set up. Once that was done I took a seat on the comforter in cross-legged bemusement while Danielle changed her mind at least five times as to which drawers in her dresser should hold what items, and whether her metal band poster (Iced Earth) was better suited to be over the desk, or maybe over the bed, or even perhaps the empty wall space next to the door on her side of the room.

In the middle of these indecisions Haruko spoke up after having remained silent since the initial introductions.

“Neither of you are human.” Haruko hadn’t even taken her eyes off her book to say this.

Danielle and I quickly glanced at each other, then at Haruko. Danielle asked, “How can you tell?”

Haruko waved a hand casually. “Your auras.” She pointed first to Danielle. “You’re obviously a fae of some kind, likely full sidhe even. All your clothes are either silk or pure cotton from what I can see.”

Without waiting for Danielle to acknowledge the statement, Haruko turned serious and introspective eyes towards me. “As for you, at first I thought you might be a dragon, but that’s not right. If I had to guess, I’d say a kami of some kind.”

“A ‘kami’? What’s that?” Danielle asked.

This I thought I knew. “Isn’t that Japanese for a god?”

Haruko nodded. “A god or goddess, deity, a principle, yes. Also, my dad’s first name.” She grinned.

“Interesting name.”

“He’s an interesting guy. But don’t try and change the subject, fess up!” She tapped fingers against her book expectantly.

I sighed. “They say I’m an angel, and I’m running out of excuses to disbelieve it.”

That earned a smug smile of satisfaction. “Then I was right.”

“So what are you, then?” Danielle asked with curiosity.

With a shrug Haruko replied, “Human.”

Frowning, I opened my mystical sight to take a look at Danielle’s new roommate, or at least her energies. Lines of dark blues, purples, and greens swirled around her - she was obviously a practitioner of some kind - but oddly all the lines were pulled towards her mid-section. An energy formation the size of a bowling ball sat there, and it was slowly sucking in all the energy Haruko’s spirit was generating.

“Human, sure,” I said, “but a magical one. And what the heck is sitting inside you?”

“You can see that?” Haruko sat up, turning on the bed so her feet dangled off the side as she placed her hands protectively on her stomach. “It’s my egg,” she said proudly.

“You’re pregnant?” Danielle boggled, while I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. The bowling ball - I mean, ‘the egg’ - was definitely attached to Haruko’s spirit and feeding off of her. But just on the excess, if that makes sense. Haruko, as a wizard or mage, had extra energy beyond the lifeforce needed to live and the egg was slurping it up.

“In a sense, yes,” Haruko said. “I’m an avatar - and I’m host to a dragon egg. Someday it will hatch and then I’ll have my own dragon just like my dad.” She grinned at the thought, rubbing at her stomach before she made a rueful face. “Until it does, though, I can’t cast any magic or do anything other than see things. All my mana is feeding the egg so it can grow. Dad says I should be able to do stuff even he can’t do, because my dragon and I will bond even deeper this way.”

“Wow. That’s pretty cool.” Danielle grinned. “We’ll probably be in the same magic classes, neat!”

Haruko shrugged again. “At least the non-lab one, unless my egg hatches this year - though Dad said it could take a few.”

I smiled. “I’m only in the starting ‘Principles of Magic’ class too; this is my first year here. They banned me from the regular lab.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why?”

Danielle snickered. “Probably to keep other students from exploding. Hey, you hungry? We should totally go eat!”

Haruko stared with even more interest. “Sure, I’ll go. But I want to hear more about students blowing up.”

I groaned as I hopped off the bed, causing Danielle to giggle all the louder as we went out the door.

~o~O~o~

Both freshmen were overwhelmed with the variety of food offerings and couldn’t decide what to get. Haruko seemed rather pleased at the selection of sushi, and Danielle gushed over the salad and vegetable bar. That was a total surprise, as only a few weeks ago I had needed to cajole and plead to get her to eat anything green. She had declared at the time that holding a chicken nugget in each hand achieved a balanced diet.

As for my own choices, it was no contest when I spotted lamb kabobs and Greek salad on the menu. The freshly grilled onions, peppers, and mushrooms looked particularly delectable. Thus I was first to escape the cavalcade of possibilities and grabbed an open table, being sure to take one down in the freshmen area.

Naturally I had just taken a large and juicy bite when Jenna piped up from behind, her tray overflowing with steak, mashed potatoes laden with butter and sour cream, and a healthy helping of caramelized green beans.

“You do know the junior tables are further up, right?” She grinned and plonked her tray down next to mine.

“Mrmmph,” I acknowledged before I could finish chewing. “Yeah, but a…a friend of mine is starting here as a freshman. She just arrived and is with her new roomie getting food.”

“Friend, huh? Cool! Known her long?” Jenna asked casually and vigorously attacked her plate.

I tried to think fast. “Distantly, yeah. Her mutation first hit when she was younger, but apparently kicked up a notch recently. I was surprised to see her moving in earlier to Dickinson.”

“Last minute, eh? She’ll be busy tomorrow running around getting her schedule and everything, what with classes starting again.” Jenna scrunched her face.

I laughed. “You’re not looking forward to the start of the school year?”

“What, me? Not exhilarated at the prospect of sitting at desks designed for smaller kids, homework, quizzes, and boring teachers? Never.”

Puzzled, I asked, “They won’t get you a larger desk? I’d have thought they would accommodate those with such needs.”

She sighed. “Oh they do, but it’s always a hassle at each class. If there’s more than like two of us over six feet then it’s a scramble as to who gets the larger ones that are there, and then requisitioning more requires a form that needs signatures and stuff. I’m tall, but some are much bigger. Like Tank.”

The mental visual of Brendan, a.k.a Tank, trying to fit his seven and half foot tall frame into a child’s desk got me to snicker. “Yeah, he’d break anything normal sized just by trying to sit.”

She nodded and chewed a hunk of beef before swallowing. “He’s thinking of forming a combat team this year - and he asked me to join it.”

“Combat team?”

“Yeah. Students can form teams and practice fighting in the sims, you know, learning group tactics and strategies. That extra training can really help out in the combat finals.”

Once again I was reminded of how unusual this school really was. The closest to ‘team combat training’ at my old high school was probably the water polo squad. Given the bruises I’d seen on the players, the term really could apply.

“Actually,” she continued, “he wanted me to talk to you about it too.”

“Me?” I paused, suspending a fork and its tasty bite o’ lamb.

“Yep.” She nodded. “We were discussing what happened in the gym, from when I kicked you through the wall? And he said he had some ideas about your powers and how they could really help make a team something awesome.”

I shook my head. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not even allowed to practice doing stuff with others around. It’s dangerous.”

“He knows that, but hey, all it did was make me a lot stronger. He’s wondering what other powers it could boost. And if you could control it…?” She left the thought dangling, but there was clear excitement in her voice about the possibilities.

I pondered the implications. If I could master the ability, and grant more ‘boost’ as she put it to a teammate, the results could be…oh. Ah shit. “Jenna, don’t talk about that with anyone else, okay?”

She looked at me funny. “What?”

“A power amplifier. That’s what he’s thinking? I hadn’t thought of it that way, but if he’s right? It would paint an ‘X’ on my back for every supervillain in the world to try to kidnap and force me to power up whatever abilities they, or their henchmen, have. Think about it.”

Her eyes narrowed as she considered the ramifications.

To drive the point further, I added, “The only way to compel me to do that for them would either be mind control - or taking those I care about hostage.”

She paled. “Oh.”

Giving her a rueful smile I said, “It was an interesting idea, really it was. But long term? Best kept under wraps, and maybe left untried.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure I agree. You should practice it, even if just in secret. Leaving any potential advantage undeveloped is foolish. Sensei Ito, in fact all the teachers here, would agree. Both Brendan and myself would be willing to volunteer to help you out, at the least.”

Dang. She had a point. “But not as part of an official combat team.”

That got her to grin again. “Fair enough. Maybe we could work something out with the powers testing techs, all ‘off the record’ and such.”

“Might need Kirov’s supervision, or even another protective circle to help. Aha, there’s Danielle and her new roomie!”

I waved at the pair as they emerged from the mass of students who had descended upon the cafeteria lines in a sudden rush of hungry adolescents. Haruko spotted me first, nudging Danielle to change directions and they started to walk across the Hall.

They were halfway over to us when a disdainful voice caused Danielle to stop.

“Oh great. They let a sidhe go here?”

Danielle turned towards the source, a boy perhaps fourteen or fifteen with a thick scraggly mop of red hair barely held back by a rubber band in a makeshift ponytail. “You have a problem with sidhe?” she asked frostily, her pale eyes matching her tone.

The boy stood up and moved to block her path as his expression hardened. He was taller than her, still lanky but clearly well-muscled under a charcoal Minnesota Vikings t-shirt. “Yeah, maybe I do.”

Danielle, undeterred, stared up at him. “And why would that be?”

The boy tightened a fist. “Because not all humans have forgotten your tyrannies.”

She tilted her head. “Tyrannies?”

He took a step closer. “I know the stories, passed down in my family for generations. You sidhe treated us humans as slaves - or worse.”

I saw her hesitate, and just for a moment a flicker of…was that guilt? But her expression sharpened, emphasizing the angular fae features all the more. “That was a long time ago.”

Even among the chaotic blend of auras in the room, I sensed Danielle gathering energy from all around her.

Not good.

I was halfway out of my seat before Jenna’s strong hand shoved me back down. Jenna shook her head at me, mouthing ‘not yet’. Chewing a lip hard I acquiesced and stayed put.

“Time alone does not merit forgiveness, elf.” The boy smirked. He opened the fist and with a gesture the air shimmered between them before solidifying as if made of glass. The edge of Danielle’s food tray was nudged by the manifestation. “In fact, why don’t you eat outside somewhere else.”

One of the guys at this boy’s table said, “Magnus, dude…”

“Shut it, Ken,” Magnus snarled. “The sidhe aren’t human and would enslave us again if they could. Isn’t that right, elf?”

A light dusting of snow swirled about Danielle, her skin going even paler than that of the light-skinned redhead blocking her path. Her voice was quiet, yet pierced the room all the same. “I’ve spent practically my whole life dealing with the prejudice of others because of being a mutant. And now, after all those years, I’m finally at a place that’s supposed to be supportive…and you’re throwing more prejudicial bullshit in my face? Because of my specific mutation?” The anger in her voice grew with each word.

The boy snorted. “Manifested sidhe were never human to begin with, changeling. Those with the Sight know the difference is all the way in the soul.” His shoulders tensed with further concentration and the air to her sides glinted as well, the glassy barrier expanding around and leaving only one path open behind her.

She gave him an evaluating look as if measuring his power - or his worth. It wasn’t an expression that belonged on a fourteen year old.

My jaw clenched with worry. Danielle’s appearance reminded me of Circe’s disapproval as she had stood over me in the forest while detailing her opinion of my actions that day. It was a face full of age, wisdom, and ruthlessness.

“And you think you can enforce such a banishment?” Danielle’s voice shifted - every word becoming crisp and focused, and each dripping with disdain at the temerity of her accuser.

Magnus puffed himself up so he could tower even taller over her. “I’m not afraid of a little snow. You can’t breach my barriers, they’re immune to fae magic.” On closer examination each snowflake was fading immediately upon contact with the glassy walls.

Her lips curled into a small cruel smile. “Oh you foolish boy, it’s not the snow a warrior needs fear in winter. Fires may warm your toes, but if you are not prepared? Why, you simply starve.”

She didn’t move but I saw it. A spell flowed into the floor right under the barrier between her and Magnus, and up through the shoes and into his feet.

What the hall heard, however, was Magnus’ stomach emit a mighty gurgle. His eyes went wide as all concentration vanished - taking with it his manifested barriers. A blank and needful expression fell onto the salad-filled plate on Danielle’s tray.

She laughed. “You’ll find no meat on this plate, warrior. But look - your own has plenty.” She pointed back at his own steak and french-fries filled tray, and with a groan Magnus charged at it to grab huge handfuls of beef, stuffing it all into his face like a starved animal.

Danielle stepped around him as if he was no longer worthy of her consideration. Haruko, who had been standing behind her the whole time, quietly slid a small jade knife back into her sleeve before catching up.

By the time Danielle reached my table and sat down, her expression had returned to her usual self and seemed utterly unconcerned by what had just happened. “Hiya Jordan! You going to introduce me to your friend?” She waved at Jenna with a happy grin.

Jenna and I gave each other a look. Back at Magnus’ table the boy hadn’t stopped with his own food, and was now starting a brawl with his buddies due to trying to steal all of theirs. When they managed to shove him off, he attacked the plates at a nearby table of girls who shrieked mightily at the assault on their dinners.

As upper-classmen attempted to subdue him, Magnus’ eyes rolled up in his head and he began swinging in a mindless rage. He fought and struggled against the holds piled on him until security showed up, tasered him, and carried him out of the cafeteria.

Danielle shrugged, turning to her salad. “Huh. Didn’t realize he was a berserker type.” Then she caught my glare, and had the grace to give a sheepish grin. “Oops?”

Jenna burst out laughing, clasping a hand on Danielle’s shoulder. “That was great! I’m Jenna, by the way.”

I just sat there stunned by what I had just witnessed.

This was going to be a very weird year.

~o~O~o~

Right as we were finishing our now-peaceful meal, a security officer returned to take our statements about what had occurred. Danielle professed naive innocence - as whatever spell she had used had already dissipated before Magnus could be examined by any magic experts. Nothing specific could therefore be proven.

Haruko commented she saw a spell rise from the floor under the ‘big lunkhead’, but that she couldn’t identify the source. Jenna mentioned how Magnus had insulted all the sidhe students at the school, of which there were a few, and any one of them could have done it.

I kept my mouth shut.

Clearly irritated, the security officer re-iterated to Danielle the prohibitions against casting magic on other students and marched off with a scowl.

Once he was gone the other girls giggled loudly.

“Well, I need to get going,” Danielle said as she stood up. “I better get unpacked and hopefully meet everyone else on my floor.”

Haruko rose with her.

“I’ll come visit you and Khan tomorrow, okay?” Danielle said.

“You’re going to be busy, hon. You need to get your uniform, sort out your classes, get your books, and you should attend as many social event things for freshmen as you can. You’re gonna be stuck with ‘em for the next four years after all.” I grinned.

“Huh. Hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe in the evening?” She gave me a hug from behind as I was still seated.

Patting her arm, I said, “Sure. But only if you have time. And if you need me, you know where to find me, okay?”

“You bet!” With that she skipped and Haruko walked purposefully out of the cafeteria.

Jenna glanced at the clock hanging above the fray of hungry students. “Oh heck! I’m late!” She pushed her chair back, gathering up her tray which was overflowing with empty plates.

“Late? What for?” I was curious.

“Team meeting. With Brendan.” She flushed and to cover it up quickly blurted, “You want to come?”

“Nah, thanks though. I’ve got something else I need to do.”

“Alright.” She paused, realizing she couldn’t also give me a hug while holding everything.

I laughed. “Get going, silly.”

“Bye!” She hurried off and I quickly followed suit to get back to Hawthorne.

I hadn’t joined in on all the laughter about what had happened with Magnus, for what I had seen in Danielle bothered me. I mulled over my observations on the walk back to my cottage, but in the end simply sighed from not being sure what one could do about past-life personalities poking through into the present.

A package I had asked Mrs. Cantrel (Hawthorne Cottage’s house mother) to order for me had arrived earlier and now seemed as good a time as any to deliver it to the intended recipient. Said recipient might even be able to offer advice on how best to help Danielle with this new twist on what had happened to her that fateful day in Los Angeles.

Thus after retrieving the package I found myself standing again in Kirby Hall outside a faculty member’s office, this time holding a medium-sized (and still sealed) box. I had overheard earlier that most faculty would have extended hours tonight to help deal with last-minute class scheduling. And no, it wasn’t Rabbi Kirov’s spot again.

It was Circe’s.

Her office was behind a solid and closed wooden door sitting at the end of the hallway. Large elegant script was etched into the wood itself: ‘Mystical Arts - Chairman’s Office’. Yep, it was warded too as a quick shift of sight to the etherial side of things revealed a dizzying array of Greek words blending into loops and patterns of mostly dark brown, greens, and cyan.

Deciding knocking first might be a good idea, I did so and was careful not to leave any dents by accident.

A commanding voice calmly replied from within. “Enter.”

Easily holding the package with one hand, I opened the door and went in. I’m not sure what I was expecting to see in the office of perhaps the world’s oldest legendary sorceress, but I will admit surprise.

It was much like the office of any of the professors at my old college. Standard desk with a monitor and keyboard next to papers stacked in neat piles at the edges, the usual utilitarian bookshelves full of journals, binders, and books of various sizes, plus some tasteful artworks of mountain or ocean views decorating the few spots of otherwise empty wall-space.

No pots of strange herbs, cauldrons, or odd-shaped flasks emitting dangerous fumes, nothing like that at all.

“Ms. Emrys.” Circe sat in a modern executive leather chair, dark and curly hair pulled back in a frizzy ponytail. In her hands was a Chinese-food take-out container and a pair of chopsticks. I’d obviously interrupted her dinner.

“Uh, hi. Mind if I come in?” I asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “I already said to enter. Is there some difficulty with your schedule?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Actually, I came here to give you this.” I hefted the box a little higher.

Frowning, she set her food on the desk and walked over to take the package from me. “What is it?”

I stumbled for words. “A bit of an apology of sorts, and also a thank you.”

Setting it down on one of the faded fabric guest chairs, she looked back at me. “Mind clarifying? Hand me the scissors from the shelf there.” She gestured towards, of all things, a white Tigger mug resting on one of the bookshelves from which was sticking forth a number of pens along with the handle to the aforementioned scissors.

I obliged and handed them over. “I feel we may have gotten off on the wrong foot the other week, what with the whole incident in the forest and all, honestly likely due to my smart mouth. And the thank you is for the outer circle forged on the floor of my bedroom.”

Cutting through the packing tape, she opened the top of the box - revealing the contents as being a single case of wine. Greek wine, to be precise.

Pulling out a bottle to examine the label, she chuckled. “Retsina. You do realize that trying to bribe one of your instructors is likely against school policy? And buying alcohol at your age illegal?”

Flushing slightly I muttered, “It’s not meant as a scholastic bribe, and I asked Mrs. Cantrel to order it for me. I’m well aware what my license says about my age, even if we both know better. And I expect you to grade me as fairly as any other student. I was merely hoping to clear the air, and if possible, talk to you.”

A woman who had witnessed thousands of years of humanity contemplated me for a moment, and her eyes crinkled with amusement. Putting the bottle back in the box, she gestured towards the other guest chair. “Why don’t you sit and tell me what’s on your mind?”

We both sat while I tried to organize my thoughts. “Too many things,” I began, words spilling out quickly and gaining further speed, “I mean - between this whole being-an-angel stuff and having the potential to be a danger to the campus if not the world, I keep wondering what you might know about Nick Wright or his former mentor Callas Soren and whatever dangerous game that guy is up to. Also about the MCO and it’s attempt to use Danielle’s guardianship as a pawn versus the DPA, plus there’s now a worry about Danielle and her being a sidhe with obviously a rather strong past life and what that could mean for her.” I inhaled deeply after that mouthful.

Circe put a hand on her desk, pausing before speaking. “You’ve had a lot of changes, all within a very short amount of time.”

I laughed, albeit with some bitterness. “That’s an understatement.”

“And yet everything you just mentioned is an external worry - either about others or your impact on them.”

“Crisis management. If your house is on fire and on the verge of collapse, worrying about having to wear a different style of underwear fades in importance, don’t you think? I’m just painfully aware of how little I know - and that’s what scares me.”

“A proper attitude in the short term, but longer term what isn’t dealt with will fester.”

“Yeah, it will. The trick, though, is surviving long enough for that to be a problem.”

She smiled. “True enough. So let’s tackle your list, shall we?” Looking at the ceiling, she contemplated her next statement.

“Angels, or Ángeloi in Greek - the messengers. I’m afraid I haven’t had much in the way of direct dealings with them, so not sure what to tell you other than what my own mentors, from rather long ago, told me.”

“Your mentors?” I asked curiously.

“You’d call them members of the Greek pantheon - gods and goddesses. Their advice when it came to the agents of El was simple: avoid them.”

I sighed. “Pretty sure I don’t have that option.”

“I was warned to beware their unleashed power, and that only some of them are genuinely concerned for this world. Also that there are angels…and then there are true powers. Like the archangels, manifestations or emanations of much wider energies and concepts.”

“Are they more powerful than the pagan gods?”

She shook her head. “It’s not an apt comparison. The deities of the Greek, Norse, Egyptian, or for that matter Hindu pantheons could be considered as more powerful on Earth during their heyday - in other words, more able to effect direct change here. It’s perhaps a matter of attunement of attention. Each - pagan deity or angelic - within their own bailiwick would likely be supreme, be it in their own realm, or level of awareness, describe it as you will.”

With a frown I said, “Yet you were concerned enough about my potential to oppose me attending the school - and then put in the ‘failsafe’ circle around my bed. What if you were right? What if I’m too much a danger to be here?”

Circe stared, dark eyes scanning and obviously seeing far beyond what even my own mystic sight provided. “You need to understand that each belief system has its own version of how the world was created, its own metaphor of emanation and the process thereof. Just as a Titan walking the world would be disastrous, so too would an angelic of sufficient power. A primal force, no matter its wrappings, is a potential threat. We’ll be discussing such beings and their impact on the world - like the Sundering - more in Mystic History.”

“Am I a ‘primal force’ then?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Great. Just great. “The Sundering? What’s that?”

“In short? It was a catastrophic event that wiped out most of the available magic in the world. It caused the Five-Fold Court that used to rule to collapse completely, the mystic creatures to flee or die outright, and all of this left the world to humanity.”

“The Five-Fold Court?” I had never heard of such a thing.

“Before the continents split off the five Courts ruled, formed between the royal fae, dragons, djinn, mer-folk, and at the center coordinated by the spirit of Gaia herself. But it degenerated, fragmenting amid internal strife, until the world broke apart - resulting in severe losses of magical energies. Enemies of peace - both from this world and from beyond - caused mass exodus and death, until only humans were left.”

“Oh. Is that like Noah’s flood?”

She shook her head. “No - that likely happened after. The fae were already gone by that point, as I understand it.”

“Huh.” More questions danced through my mind. “There was a kid in the cafeteria being a jerk to Danielle - I think his name was Magnus - he said that the sidhe once enslaved humanity. Is this true?”

Rubbing her forehead, she sighed. “I believe humans were treated as lesser beings, yes. And some of the royal courts were not very nice places. It is likely that many humans were, if not outright enslaved, at least treated as such.”

Crap. “I think Danielle is a reincarnation of one - of a sidhe. She thinks so too.”

“Mutants have taken on the external appearance of the ancient sidhe, but not all are truly fae. In Danielle’s case, however, either she is or she has a piece of the spirit of one. Unfortunately such things are always hard to determine. Has something happened to confirm her theory?”

“Uh, earlier tonight I got a strong glimpse of her previous personality. I think she was a power of some kind - and old.”

Circe pursed her lips. “We’ve had other students who have struggled with integrating such past experiences or the spirit shards that contain them. Did Danielle mention her dreams?”

“Actually, yes. She says she’s learned some magic from them too.”

“That’s good to know. I’ll inform her teachers and they will work with her to help her through it. Have her also let us know if this former being, to her, seems separate - as in a different presence in her mind. That could indicate having a spirit shard entwined with her own, as opposed to being a full reincarnate. As for how all this can affect the girl you have known, that will depend on the strength of her own will - whether the old personality and worldview will end up dominating or whether Danielle, immersed in our modern world, will maintain. But realize that the best outcome for her is likely a merger of the two. Danielle is young and children at such an age are already going through a lot of growth and change. The benefit is that they are therefore extremely adaptable, especially when given the right support. Be there for her, listen to her, and let her explore who she is - and who she may become. Try not to hold on to who she was; that’s a mistake many parents make even under normal circumstances. And warn her not to make use of any techniques she sees in her dreams without expert guidance, or the results can be unpredictable.”

I nodded. “Okay, not sure if she’ll listen, but I’ll tell her.” What she said about it all made sense, though the thought of Danielle becoming haughty and superior like in the cafeteria didn’t sit well with me. But what star student or athlete didn’t get on an ego kick unless the parents (and even friends) managed things properly?

Shaking my head, I tried to move to the next item from my list of many worries. “What about Nick and Soren? Nick mentioned having once been your student here, and that Soren was a guest lecturer at the time.”

“Mmm. Nick was a precocious young man, albeit a sharp one. I believe he ran into trouble with certain authorities in college and was somewhat forcibly drafted into working with them. The details are not mine to share, so that’s all I’ll say about it. Soren, however, is an interesting individual - he’s lived a long time, and I suspect much longer than he admitted to me.”

“How long was that?”

Circe picked up the box of Chinese take-out (which was probably cold by now, oops), and poked at it with the chopsticks. “Well, let’s just say we had differing viewpoints and opinions about a number of Roman emperors.”

“That’s pretty old. Uh…no offense.”

“None taken.” She chuckled. “I got over being the oldest person in any room a long time ago.”

“Any idea what Soren would be up to? And why the heck he’d do this to me?” I gestured at my body and all its new feminine glory.

“The man always struck me as someone who wished to be perceived as the ultimate neutral - working with heroes and villains both, trading information and knowledge. But under it all, there was a sense of being deeply driven by some specific quest. Whatever it was it gave the very meaning to his existence. You have to understand that for those like him and me, living as long as we have, we each need a reason to keep on going. Many who have the power to do so lose the will to continue over time, allowing themselves finally to end. For some of us we redefine that reason with each age we live through - adapting and growing, choosing the next thing as we go.”

She swallowed a noodle, then added, “For Soren - whatever his reason is - I don’t think it ever changed. It’s the same now as it was when he was doing deals with the Roman bureaucrats, or with the medieval feudal lords and popes, or perhaps even the ancient Pharaohs. He does his best to never let it show, but you don’t live as long as I have and not learn to read people - even people as careful and skilled as he is.”

“In other words,” I said, “he didn’t do this to Danielle and me lightly or on a lark.”

“No. Through you, he’s manifested an angel here on Earth. The repercussions of such a feat are likely to be profound.”

“Do you still think I’m a threat to the school?” I asked her bluntly. I had to know.

She paused, a bit of noodle clamped between the sticks in her hands. “Yes.”

My heart sank.

“Don’t take it personally, Jordan. You are caught up in something that far exceeds yourself.”

“Should I leave? Go hide out somewhere?”

“Events will seek you out without you doing anything to invite them no matter where you are. You are marked by circumstance - and nothing you can do will prevent them from unfolding. The only thing you can do is try to be ready as best you can. Learn from the rabbi, learn from me and your other teachers, explore your dreams for insights, and practice your arts diligently. The school has accepted the risk of your presence, now make the most of it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Circe’s office door opened and a young boy with a disheveled mop of dark hair stepped inside. Seeing us both he froze, afraid of interrupting.

I took that as my cue and stood up. “Thank you for talking with me. And I guess I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

She smiled. “That you will.”

As I moved past the boy (who was now staring at me, with eyes most definitely NOT looking at my face), Circe called out to me again.

“And Jordan?” I glanced back and caught her grin. “Next time you want to bring me a gift, I’d prefer a nice scotch. While the modern production is a lot better, wine from ancient Greece mostly tasted like pine-soaked shoe leather. It was just safer to drink than the water.”

“Oh. I, uh, right…good to know.”

Nodding to the boy now too baffled by the thought of a student giving teachers booze to keep all attention on my chest, I walked out.

~o~O~o~

After such a day, I was glad to get back to my room for a quieter evening of playing fetch and chase with Khan. Eventually he decided I was too tired to continue and graciously spread out on the bed, expecting me to do the same while giving him belly rubs. He also kept lovingly head-butting at my forehead as if to say that everything was fine and to stop worrying so much - because how bad could it be since he was there with me?

He made a strong case.

The phone rang and interrupted our rather serious mutual effort to watch how much kitty fluff could waft through the air just from scritches. It was Isaiah, he was downstairs and ‘requesting permission to ascend’. Mrs. Cantrel must have stopped him from simply going on up - she had him on speaker and verified that it was okay. As tempting as it was to give him the run around as payback for his earlier grilling, the idea was too tiring.

My friend came up and I let him in before remembering I had already gotten comfortable - in other words I was wearing only sweat pants and an over-sized girl’s ‘sleeper’ t-shirt. This one had the face of a blue dragon on the front, and judging by how his eyes tried to pop out of his head my new figure must really have made it look three dimensional. Have I mentioned yet that Isaiah always had a thing for pretty redheads? Yeah, well, whatever he had been thinking about on the way up in the elevator clearly had gone right out onto the balcony because he marched straight over to look for them through the glass.

“I…I’ll be heading to the airport here shortly,” he said after managing to find his tongue. Khan hadn’t moved, and therefore was obviously innocent of stealing it.

“Gotcha.” Sitting cross-legged back on the bed I pulled a pillow into a hug in an attempt to cover up a bit more.

His reaction as he turned around left little doubt that the maneuver had backfired. “This is incredibly awkward, you know,” he said in a strangled tone. “You looking like that. Sitting on a bed no less.”

With a groan I buried my face into the pillow.

“I’ll say this much, you certainly do look the part.” He chuckled.

“The part?” I looked up.

“Of an angel.”

“Oh.” We hadn’t had the chance yet to discuss that bit of information, but it was a much safer topic so I went with it. “I don’t think that’s really settled in yet. Who knows, maybe they’re all wrong anyway.”

He moved over and leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “The rabbi seemed rather certain.”

“It’s not like I’ve got wings or anything,” I muttered.

“Wings don’t make an angel.”

“Oh, like you’re an expert on angels now?”

He laughed. “Hardly, though I believe I will endeavor to do some research. As, from the titles of the books on your shelves, you’ve already started to.”

“Trying. There’s not a lot that’s coherent about them.”

“You’ll figure it out. Also, out of your entire crazy story? That much makes sense.”

“Angels make sense? You lost me there.”

He shook his head. “Not angels in general. You.”

“Okay, now I’m totally confused. Because from where I sit? The universe of logic and reason got kicked to the curb weeks ago.”

“You being an angel. It fits.” He watched my face intently.

Whereupon I managed to furiously blush. The pillow required further inspection via re-insertion of face.

“It’s true, Justin…Jordan. Sorry. Look, we’ve been good friends, like brothers, for a long time. I’ve seen you go through some awful things - just like you’ve seen me do the same. Between that and throwing the worst I could come up with at you whenever I was running the game sessions, I believe I’ve gotten a pretty good glimpse of who you are.”

“I screw up all the time, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sighing, I turned one cheek to the pillow so I could at least see him.

He was grinning. “And that is indeed part of why I’m right. Granted the whole situation you’ve found yourself in is utterly nuts, and you better stay damned focused to get through this. I’ll help as best I can, of course.”

“Thanks. And thanks for saving Danielle from the MCO and Child Services. I don’t know what I would have done if that had happened.”

“You would have raised hell to get it sorted out. Given everything that’s happened, maybe literally!” he said with another chuckle. “Anyway, I need to go and catch that last flight home. I already said goodbye to Danielle, she’s a good kid.”

“The best.” Putting the pillow aside, I slipped out of the bed. Usually we’d part ways with a solid bro-hug, but the situation now had us standing there like idiots. I offered him a hand instead.

He took it and made an effort to hold on with a stronger grip than his instincts were clamoring for. “Whatever you need to go be, be it. Embrace it. Just work to understand it all as deeply as possible - and always remember: you are not alone. Take care, Jordan.”

“You too.”

With that my best friend departed.

As a lawyer he was fearsome and utterly relentless, but underneath? Underneath the jerk had gotten me crying again. I blamed the pillow. Totally its fault.

I mean that.

All through brushing my teeth and readying for bed thoughts kept returning to Isaiah’s statement about understanding everything. There were just too many questions. What exactly did it mean to be an angel? And perhaps more immediately relevant, what did it mean to be one manifested on Earth? I was pretty sure even the rabbi didn’t have any good answers for that.

I drifted off to sleep full of those kinds of questions. You know, just like every night since this mess all started.

Consistency is important, right?

 

Chapter 3 - Assignment

 

Clouds dark and full of moisture flitted past, parting to reveal a crimson sun dropping below a horizon outlined by far distant waters lying beyond tall barriers of earth and stone. A snow-crested mountaintop dominated the scene as its peaks raced upwards, all veering off to one side to reveal a secluded valley. Unlike others nearby it was not covered in snow but instead full of verdant vegetation with brilliant flowers arranged in rows and sections that bespoke of a master’s hand cultivating each and every growth with purpose and deliberation.

Wanting to examine things further, I found I could not - for in this dream I had no control.

I was but a witness.

 

Damp earth caressed her toes as they alighted to the earth and soft wings reminiscent of a dove’s folded across her back. An elegant hand reached out to caress the petals of a single flower - one white and echoing the shade of her own feathers.

She smiled taking in its fragrance and beauty, reddish-copper hair falling forward over a shoulder as she did.

Behind her an entirely different shade of red cast a harsher ambiance upon the surroundings, for her companion’s still out-stretched wings were not white, neither were they gentle. Sharply edged feathers withdrew, glistening in the setting sun as if wet and dripping with the blood whose color they bore. Feet, bound in black leather and gold, hovered above the surface in refusal of landing.

He spoke first. “I sense nothing. How can you be so sure the Second is here?”

“You look with your eyes, but I see with my heart. He is here.”

A grunt of acknowledgment was given. “Will he agree to aid us?”

“There are times when asking the question is more important than the answer. Now, give me a moment.”

Closing eyes of emerald, she stood and slowly turned, sweeping arms in a graceful circle before stopping with a warm smile. “This way.”

They passed through the fields - through the well-tended rainbow effusion of flowers, wending their path between low-height shrubberies until meandering between ancient trees of oak and pine. Despite their shared feature of wings, they could not have been more different: her skin pale under a gown of iridescent ivory trimmed with gold, whereas he was armored in a polished obsidian breastplate sitting atop leathers only one shade lighter than his dark skin. Where her hair was bound by a thin circlet of shining ivy, his crown was more a helm with plates covering his face leaving only a T-shaped slit for eyes and nose. A single raven braid fell between his wings to bounce against the scabbarded weapon beside it.

Reaching the end of the valley, she guided them along the bottom edge of the boulders lining stones that thrust upwards to form the surrounding mountains. A shimmering blue stream trickled from out of the rocks, but closer inspection revealed a much larger opening nearby leading deeper into a dark cave.

Within that cavern an unwelcoming presence emanated waves of raw displeasure. Her companion shifted, a hand moving up to grasp the hilt of the sword.

Ignoring the feeling, she called out in a voice loud yet tender. “Beliel, my brother, might we come in and visit? We’ve come a long way.”

There was a long silence, but she gestured for her companion to wait even further.

Finally a deep booming response echoed outward. “You, I know. Him, I do not.”

“He is Camael, of the House of Light, Regent of the Seat the First left behind.”

A gruff grunt declared, “Only you may enter.”

The one named Camael turned to her. Under his breath he said, “I mislike this, Lady Gabriel. Your safety is my task. And he is…” The angel left the rest unspoken.

Placing a hand on a tall shoulder, she smiled at her defender. “I am as safe with him as I am with you, dear Camael. Worry not, but do wait here.”

Eyes unhappy behind the helm, a reluctant nod was given.

Bending over to pick up the muddy train of a once pure dress, Gabriel entered the caverns below, picking her steps carefully over the loose stones and gravel lining the path. While there was no light beneath the earth, she had no problems making her way deeper and deeper until reaching the large cavern underneath the mountain.

A presence barely fitting inside the cave shifted its weight with an exhalation that would have knocked a lesser being off their feet.

Still smiling, she shook her head. “Are you going to tower over me from up there in the dark the entire conversation, or can we at least be comfortable?”

Another grunt answered, though this time more of uncertain embarrassment. Air rushed in from the entrance as the immense presence shifted, shrinking itself down. A fireplace wedged into the cave-wall roared into fiery manifestation with smoke curling upward through a separate passage carved into the roof of the nook.

Mighty claws had done the work of excavating the space, leaving marks of their efforts upon the stones. A single broad wooden chair sat before the fireplace covered in the pelts of at least three dark bears. Against the wall near the fire was also a large pile of bones - of both beasts and men.

A tall figure cloaked in yet more furs stepped out into the light of the flames, a tall and imposing muscled human shape with a clean-shaven head and a face yielding a visage equally carved from stone.

“Oh, Beliel,” Gabriel said softly. “What did you do to your glorious hair?”

Powerful shoulders shrugged uncomfortably. “It kept getting muddy and stuck with twigs. You should sit.” He pointed to the only chair.

Folding the edges of her garment under her, she sat on the ground beside the oaken seat. “No, brother. That is yours.”

He glowered, as if not sure what to do or say. “Would you like tea? It’s all I have. Freshly gathered.”

“Whatever that is, it sounds lovely.”

Beliel moved over to the fire, hanging a beaten metal pot filled with water over the flames. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.” She watched as he bent over the fireplace, wincing when the fur over his shoulders parted revealing several scars upon his back. When he turned around, all traces of her sorrowful expression had vanished, again showing only warmth.

He shook his head. “You didn’t come down to Earth to see me.”

“Well no, you’ve got me there. I’m here for other reasons. But once I sensed that you were nearby, I had to come. Would it be wrong to mix business with the pleasure of seeing you once again?”

He picked up a large earthen mug, scowled further, and wiped it out with some linen that may or may not have been clean. “I don’t like visitors.” Grinning, he pointed towards the high pile of bones nearby. “And others don’t like it when they visit either.”

“Quite a collection. I doubt my own bones would add much to it.”

His eyes flashed with pain. “Not yours. Never yours.” Reaching into several leather pouches, he produced a variety of dried leaves and berries, crushing them into the empty mug.

“Honestly, brother,” she said while watching him work, “I could use your help.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, I could. I’ve been sent down here to deal with something - and, seeing as you’ve been here awhile, your insight and even your assistance would be very useful.”

The pot began to boil, and he casually picked it out of the fire with bare hands before pouring the bubbling and steaming liquid into the mug. Setting the red-hot pot aside, he offered the mug to Gabriel. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She took a sip of the heavily steaming concoction, and her face brightened immediately. “Why Beliel, this is marvelous!”

For a moment altogether too brief, a hint of a smile lightened his face. Her heart leapt with joy to even see that much.

“Yeah. It’s good. It’ll improve if you let it cool for a minute.” The thick wood of the chair creaked and groaned as he settled himself upon it, looking not at her but staring into the flames. “I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”

She lowered the mug with a sigh, placing it beside her. “There’s an issue. With the Grigori.”

“The Grigori?”

“The Watchers were sent here to help the humans. With the disaster that befell this world and the loss of its manna - likely due to the world spirit’s slumber not to mention the more magically entwined races using up the reserves and thus for all practical purposes wiping themselves out - the humans are all that’s left to defend this realm from Beyond. It was agreed they needed guidance.”

He snorted. “The Council decided to meddle.”

“We couldn’t just leave them like that,” she protested. “The Primal Chaos needs to be countered at all levels, and this world was undefended.”

“And what ‘issue’ has occurred with these Grigori?”

“Well,” she hedged, “at first they only wanted to come home, even though their task was not yet complete.”

“Which was denied.”

“Yes, it was. They’d only been down here for a handful of days at that point.”

Beliel closed his eyes and rubbed a slow hand down his face. “And now? For Michael or the Council to send you here…”

“I volunteered. It was either that or Michael himself would have come.”

They both left it unsaid what that would have meant for the world.

Peering through broad fingers, he examined how she sat on the dusty floor, replaying in his mind her every move since arriving. “You’re scared by something, sister. And not by me.”

“Never of you,” she said, meeting his gaze directly. “I’m scared by what they’ve done.”

“Tell me.”

“They’ve bred. With the humans.”

He blinked. And then he laughed, a hollow and empty laugh echoing from one end of the cave to the other.

“It is no laughing matter, brother,” she said quietly yet with an edge to her words.

“Yes, it is. The Council is blind to its own blindness. You - and they - forgot or never understood the differences in temporal perception between these lower realms and your own lofty perches.”

“What do you mean?”

“A handful of days for you there, safe in that blindingly bright city the Lightbringer and I built for you all, is thousands of trips around the primary of this lowly blue marble. Magnitudes more for realms further away such as Hell - which I came to know all too intimately before abandoning it for here. These Grigori likely wanted to go home because they’d been too long from it - too long from the Presence. And you denied them their return.”

Gabriel bit a lip, looking away from her brother and into the flames licking at blackened logs.

His voice became harsh. “You have no concept of what it is like to be denied the Presence, Gabriel. To be this distant from Him for such a timespan. You may as well have cut off their wings yourselves and thrown them down here like the rest of us.”

Her eyes flashed. “You were never cast out, brother - you left on your own. Before I could beg you to stay, like the First did before you.”

“After what I did, I may as well have been.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

The wooden end of his armrest snapped free in his hand, the sound cutting her off. They both stared at the shattered wood clenched in his fist.

“I will not speak of it.” He threw the splinters into the fire.

She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

A long awkward silence followed. He finally broke it by saying, “Your tea is getting cold.”

“So it is.” Gabriel picked up the mug again. “Beliel…you’ve been here awhile, I can tell that much. You know this world better than I. The one mortal we pulled to the Garden testified with his limited understanding of the state of things, but I need to figure out what to do about it all - how to handle these crossbreeds, these Nephelim. And how best to protect the humans.”

“Mankind breeds rapidly. They are also foolish and latch on to abominations.”

Tilting her head slightly, she asked, “How so?”

“Do you know why I keep this valley so secluded? Why I don’t go visit these beings and their glimmering little souls? I’ll tell you. Because I did once. I was spotted by them in passing while hunting wild beasts. They figured I must be a god, for they started leaving offerings of that which they had seen me hunt.”

“Sounds innocent enough.”

“You’d think that. Except I went away for a hundred years, having found something of interest elsewhere for that time. When I returned, well…” He fell quiet, eyes glaring into his memory.

“What? What had happened?”

“Someone, perhaps a revenant or a djinn, maybe even a fae, had taught their wizards how to harness the power released by a soul as it separates from the physical body. They were using it to fuel their arts. And they thought such magic flowed from the acceptance of their offerings.”

Gabriel paled. “They were sacrificing their own? To you?”

“Their children. Their babies. Believing that I wanted such…evil.”

“What did you do?”

“I took care of it. All of it.”

“Oh brother…” Her hand wanted to reach out and touch him, to give comfort, but he quickly stood to put himself out of reach.

“Think well on it, Gabriel. The very idea itself had to be wiped out. And there is only one way to accomplish such a thing. Remember this when you go solve your Grigori problem.”

Fears filled her heart. “Will you help me?”

“No.”

A tear fell into tea held now with two hands - even an expected answer can be painful to hear. “I know you defended your realm in Hell when you were there. Is this world you have adopted not also yours to defend?”

“No. Nor are you the first to ask me to save it from the insanities and desperations of others.”

Gazing up with dampness on her cheeks, she asked, “Who else has come to you?”

“The fae royalty, in their battles against each other. And later in their struggle against the minions of our ancient foes that the fae’s foolish infighting had let loose. I tell you now what I told them: I am here because I wish to be left alone. If this world collapses I shall find another. I am done with conflicts. I am done with politics. Of Below, of Above, and of here as it sits lost in the middle.” Turning away from her, he added more quietly, “Seek perhaps whatever fae have survived, maybe they can help you thread the needle and prevent Michael from taking matters into his own hands. But I will not. So finish your tea and go.”

Gabriel stared at her cup before draining the last of its contents and setting it carefully atop a small rock. Rising to her feet, she ached to embrace him but his stance made it clear such a gesture would not be welcome.

“Thank you for seeing me, Beliel. I’ve missed you.”

“It was…good to see you too, sister.” Broad shoulders hunched in on themselves, but still he didn’t turn to face her.

She spoke softly to his scarred back. “The Gates were never locked against you, brother. And I continue to hope, as I always have and always will, to see you walk through them again one day. For my heart will never stop loving you.”

Composing herself against his silence, she turned and walked barefoot out of his refuge. As she reached her armored companion who had been standing outside in the evening twilight, she thought she caught a whisper echoing from the cave saying that he loved her too - but she was not sure if she had heard it or if it was just an echo of her own wish to hear what they both knew to be true.

Two sets of wings took to the air, one pure and one marked by blood. As they rose higher Gabriel wondered to herself how much longer her own white feathers would remain so pure before they too became stained like the edges of her dress that even now was being washed by the moisture from the clouds they flew through.

A conscience, she knew, could not be so easily cleansed.

 

The clouds faded away. I was sitting once again on the rock that hung over a beach caressed by an ocean whose location or name I still did not know.

There was no sign of my fellow angelic visitor to this place. Raphael still hadn’t returned.

If forced, waking was possible - but instead the waves rolled in, one after the other, while high above those now distant clouds floated past, never granting any views of their peaks. Whether towers and buildings still rested there upon them could not be seen.

It was clear as the toll of a bell that the dream of Gabriel had been true - a relived memory from long ago. It tasted of ages past, yet the passions had never faded and were as sharp now as when they first spilled forth.

What had happened after? And most of all - why had I experienced this? Had Gabriel gifted this memory somehow when we met and if so what else had been shared?

Would I like what was found if I tried to remember more?

The crashing of waves and the whisper of the cool breeze brushing past yielded no answers. But with this one shared memory I was sure of one thing:

Whatever heavenly schemes had caught me in their net, they had been brewing before recorded history.

Perhaps even since the beginning of all things.

Light's Promise (Part 2 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 4 - Price

“Jordan, perhaps you can elucidate to the class how the emergence of powered individuals has disturbed the foundation and premise of the law and structure of the United States?”

Rabbi Kirov was picking on me again. When I had received my schedule I’d discovered that he had wedged his own class onto the list: The Ethics of Super-powered Beings. Now we were at the end of the second week and he already had established to everyone that I was some sort of teacher’s pet. He kept selecting me non-stop to answer questions or to reiterate the passages in the assigned reading texts. It had gotten out of hand, and I was so going to yell at him at our private magic practice session come Monday.

Emitting a moan and trying to ignore the quiet snickers of my classmates, I straightened from a slouched posture resulting from the uncomfortable hard wood and plastic school desks. They were a far cry from the cozy and plush leather computer desk chairs I (and my posterior) had gotten used to at proper places of business while plugging away at writing software. Clearly the school administration believed that strengthening our characters involved strict conditioning for our rear ends.

Kirov waited patiently with an amused smile and there was no getting out of it. “Right," I said, "uh, the foundation and premise of the law and structure of the United States…” My mind tried to form something coherent as it replayed what he had been talking about, and I had a sneaking suspicion that this time the rabbi had picked on me because my attention had drifted away again. Oops. To the side from a pair of speakers could be heard Penelope, my heat-sensitive friend teleconferencing in from Hawthorne, as she giggled into the microphone.

I plowed onward. “Well, given that even in our Declaration of Independence it states a basis on ‘all men being created equal’, the notion that all citizens should therefore be equal under the law takes a hit when the premise is directly proven false.”

The rabbi nodded for me to continue. So far so good.

“I mean, historically rulers gained their power due to being the strongest with a sword or having the biggest group of thugs willing to follow their stomping about. But beginning with inventions like the crossbow, and later the musket and rifle, the playing field between individuals became more level: a peasant could take out a knight given a week or so of simple training. Thus the power balance between royalty and subjects shifted towards the people - which over the course of time culminated in the thinking of the Founding Fathers. Indeed, in the opinions of many, the Second Amendment provides the people the right to arm themselves with the implements of their equality under the assumption that it would keep the citizens on par with the government in terms of such power and thus curtail governmental abuse and tyranny.”

I paused for a second, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Thing is,” I continued, “that power balance went out of whack with the advances of technology: machine guns, tanks, missiles, and of course, atomic weaponry. The military of the state once again held overwhelming superiority. This was kept in check by virtue of the members of that military also being citizens along with the careful organized control by the military collective over the tools of such greater destruction and the designed constitutional subservience of the military to civilian leadership. But the emergence of super-powered beings, independent of the military, greatly threatened the underlying premises. Here were individuals with the potential for tremendously more power than their fellow citizens, and in truth they could threaten the agents of the citizenry: the police, and in emergencies, the military itself. So should they remain ‘equal’ under the law when the agents of the law might be powerless against them? Or do they require regulating under a stricter system to keep them in check before the previous pattern of history with a ruling class holding all the personal power came to repeat itself, except this time the royals would be metas or mutants and society would have a class division based not on subjective prejudices but measurable traits.”

Yeah, the kids in the class were openly staring at me now. I decided I should shut up. Everyone pretty much hated the MCO and while I didn’t like them either, the issues prompting their existence were extremely thorny and difficult.

“Ahem. Yes, an excellent summary,” Rabbi Kirov said. “As an assignment for the weekend, write a three to five page essay on either the effects of the 1976 Starbright Registration Act which formed the basis of the United State’s agreement with the Mutant Commission Office or how the continual rise of technology - gadgeteer or ‘normal’, not devisor tech - has been used to give civilian law enforcement the capacity to try and restore ‘equality’ between those with powers and the civilian populace.”

Everyone groaned, including me. While it wouldn’t take that long to type something up, it was one more thing on the pile. As it was most of Saturday was booked solid with first the Defensive Driving course, and then Danielle had insisted I join her for lunch before we spend the afternoon working on my magic spell-casting. While she had an instinctive knack for spell-work and Tamara had spent many evenings trying to get me to understand how she did things as a witch, I hadn’t made any progress. Lighting even a single candle properly was still beyond my ability and Danielle was determined to help come Hell or high water.

Sunday was set to be clobbered with tutoring Tamara (and a couple of other students) for their algebra quiz on Monday, and Jenna had told me to leave the afternoon free. I had a suspicion she and Brendan were still hoping to recruit me to their combat team.

And of course tonight I had Ballroom Dancing. Yep, I got stuck with that too. Cecilia Rogers had conspired with Natalie to force me into her class to ‘ease the transition into being a proper young lady’. Ugh. At least I got to see Zap there - he’d also been railroaded into it to help him get used to being in human form again. Apparently he’d fallen down a few times from forgetting he couldn’t just take off into the air like he had when stuck as a hawk. That must’ve been awkward.

The rabbi remained nonplussed by the sounds of misery from students mentally rearranging their weekends to accommodate the last-minute assignment. “This is all the time we have for today. Remember to double-space or it goes into the sacred sepulcher of wasted efforts!”

Everyone quickly shoved notebooks and school laptops into bags, hopping up as a disorganized mob to rush out the door.

“Jordan, a moment if you would, yes?” Kirov caught me as I was about to escape to the freedom of the hallway with the other inmates.

Quickly rolling my eyes so he wouldn’t see, I turned around. “Yeah?”

“Your attention wandered elsewhere today. Is there something on your mind?” The rabbi absently removed his glasses to clean them on his tie.

“No, well…yeah.” I sighed, stepping back into the classroom by the cluttered teacher’s desk so everyone else could get past. “I guess a number of things.”

“Care to talk about them? Perhaps I can help.” Returning the frames to their impressive perch, he frowned - somehow he’d managed to smudge them even worse. He fumbled with a pocket for a handkerchief to try instead while I stammered out a reply.

“Well, other than the total weirdness of being back in school and getting treated like a kid again, plus the frustrations I’ve had with the magical studies and practice, I guess there are two things that are bugging me.”

Scholarly hands paused what they were doing as he gave his full attention. One thing I really liked about the rabbi - no matter how absent minded he could be, he truly cared. The man had a heart the size of Texas.

“Please, go on,” he encouraged.

“Nick Wright hasn’t contacted me and it’s been, what, over four weeks? Natalie still won’t tell me anything, and Director Goodman only responds to emails with a perfunctory notice that if I need to know I’ll be informed.”

“Hmm. As I understand, Mr. Wright is not entirely reliable - at least according to my brother Gregory. And the second item you mentioned?”

“Oh, uh…” I blushed. “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

He offered a reassuring smile. “I only wish to be of assistance.”

I stared down at my uniform shoes, or as Jenna called them, ‘Mary Jane’s’. Apparently that’s the style. Huh, they had some mud stuck on the tips. When did that happen?

“Jordan?”

Ah hell. Making a face I looked back up at him. “I worked it out: I’ve been a girl for forty-five days now.” I stopped. How the hell was I going to explain this to him?

“Does that bother you?” He was puzzled. Not surprising, as I’d been telling him that the whole gender thing hadn’t been much of an issue lately. Which was true, I had too many other things to worry about.

“Not itself, no. Just, uh…certain things should have happened by now. But they haven’t.” It was raining against the windows again. Oh yeah, it had rained before dawn last night too. Hence muddy feet.

“Certain things?”

I gave up. “My period, okay?” I blurted loudly right as a freshman entered the room for the next class. The poor guy almost tripped and looked lost as to whether he should run out or pretend he hadn’t heard anything.

Rabbi Kirov still didn’t get it.

“Jesus, do I need to paint you a picture?” I leaned over to his ear and gave a graphic description of what the hell I meant.

He paled. “Ah. I see!”

“Yeah.” I nodded, crossing arms over my stomach protectively.

“How long did you say it hasn’t happened?”

“Forty-five days.”

He fumbled for his briefcase, fished out his teacher’s ticket book, and hastily scribbled onto the top slip. “Here.” He handed it to me.

“What’s this for?” I tried to read the writing, but naturally it was illegible. My full name was probably there in the mess somewhere.

“Whatever your next class is, you’re excused. You are to go to Doyle for an examination.”

“Sensei Ito is not going to like me missing class.”

“I will notify him directly. This is not negotiable, Ms. Emry’s. Your health is paramount.”

I groaned, even louder than I had over being assigned the essay.

“Move along, Jordan. This cannot wait. And Mr. Hansen,” the rabbi said over my shoulder to the dude who had taken a seat all the way in the back of the room, “You are not to repeat what you overheard here, do you understand? It is private information.”

“Uh, yes sir?” I could hear the grin in the guy’s voice. I didn’t even need to look.

Shaking my head, I hurried out of the room. Didn’t the rabbi know that by giving such an admonishment he all but guaranteed the entire student body would be full of rumors by dinner? Argh!

~o~O~o~

At least the doctor at Doyle warmed up the invasive salad spoons before applying them to my, uh, sensitive areas. The hospital that had first examined me weeks ago hadn’t been so considerate.

I still didn’t enjoy the experience.

The doc ordered another set of blood work and also an ultrasound. And nope, she wouldn’t tell me anything. She just kept asking how many days I’d been a girl over and over as if hoping I’d trip up and admit that oh, oops my bad, it was only last week that my outtie became an innie! Yeah, like my medical file here didn’t already have all the details spelled out in triplicate.

She did make an attempt of consoling the patient with phrases like, ‘it could be a hormonal delay, and thus nothing to worry about’ and ‘recent transformees start their cycles differently’.

Nope, not comforting.

The ultrasound tech was a younger guy who pretended he didn’t speak any English. Either that or he had the music on his headphones turned up so loud he couldn’t hear me, but I liked the initial theory.

When an entirely different lab-coated woman came in to wheel me and the gurney I was stuck on into an elevator to the basement for ‘further testing’, I became concerned. Also, wow did she wear too much perfume. Urk!

The lady with the overpowering scent of an entire garden’s worth of flowers mushed into a bowl of vodka slid the gurney and its trapped passenger into a weird silver tube lined with white LEDs.

“Is this some kind of MRI?” I asked, thinking it odd to be fed into the contraption feet first.

She grunted as if offended by the notion. “No, this is a custom scanner of mine, of superb quality. And don’t worry, most lab subjects have no side effects of any note.”

Say what? “Side effects?” Wait - did she also say ‘lab subjects’?

The lady made a ‘tut tut’ sound with her tongue. “Try not to move.” She closed the tube behind me, as if having loaded a fresh torpedo into a submarine’s launch tube.

There was a loud ‘kachunk’ of a locking mechanism and the lights went out.

Before I could even say ‘what in tarnation’, my insides did a triple somersault and all senses went berserk.

 

Sound was sight, smell was touch, and taste reported the utter loss of balance. Up was yellow, the darkness was deafening, and there was no way to scream.

A voice painted a word using trombones and rough sandpaper. The flavor of an arrow offered guidance, and somehow I followed.

The scent of crashing thunder mixed with the direction of a breeze and I could see the coldness of a large stone.

My stone. The one from my dreams.

Like putting a puzzle together piece by piece, each sensory input needed to be reassembled and reassigned. But the pattern was familiar: ocean and beach, cliff and sky. Hands on liquid shoulders formed an essence which cut through the haywire sensations.

They steadied me, those hands, and the scene came into focus.

 

“Raphael?”

“I am here. But you are not, not entirely.”

We were standing upon that stone, with him behind. The sights and senses had become solid, but looking down I was not. My body - now dressed in casual t-shirt and jeans - kept flickering and pulsating like seeing an image in a constantly warping fun-house mirror.

“Keep your eyes on the ocean, or your perceptions may have further issues.” His voice was calm, yet concerned.

“Okay.” I gazed out over the waters, focusing on the white peaks of waves as they rolled towards the shore. “The doctors are using some kind of scanner on me. It’s messing me up.”

“For what do they scan?”

“My…female organs. I’ve yet to have a cycle. You know, menstruation.”

“Ah.” He said it with a touch of sadness and hands massaged my shoulders with a gentle firmness.

I choked up. “They’re going to find something anomalous, aren’t they?”

He stayed silent before sighing. “It is likely.”

“Damn.” I really didn’t want to think about it, not here, not now. “Where have you been?”

“Searching.”

“For what?”

He didn’t answer. I tried to turn my head to look back at him but even shifting that much threw everything off-kilter again. Back to the waves. Back to their gentle roar and the scent of salt in the wind.

Right.

He spoke quietly. “I was searching for that which I could not find when I first came across you here, much to my surprise.”

“What?”

“This dreamspace. It is a small pocket favored by someone. I had come hoping they would be here - and found you instead.”

Somehow, don’t ask me how, I knew who he meant. “Gabriel. This is her place.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t find her?”

“No. She is missing.”

“That’s…that’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I could feel his worry, through his touch, from his heart.

“I saw her. Once.”

The hands went still. “When?”

How could he not know? “Before she sent me back across.”

He exhaled sharply. “That answers one question, and raises a legion more in its place.”

“Can I help?”

“I do not know.”

“Raphael, what does it all mean? What is happening?”

The light from above reflected off white cresting waters, but it was felt as a clash of cymbals. I couldn’t refocus because the brilliant colors of butterfly wings were pulling me away.

As the bitterness of over-brewed tea swept everything away, his answer echoed across a painted tableau of soft silk.

“Change.”

 

The world coalesced into the bright white LEDs illuminating the inside of the silver tube where I still lay.

Finding my voice, I screamed sheer frustration until the throat bled raw.

~o~O~o~

They put me in a ‘recovery’ room to await the results of their tests. It had obviously been designed to try and put a patient at ease: wallpaper of greenery with pale flowers of yellows and violets, padded comfortable chairs, even a simulated skylight pretending to look upwards at a sunny blue sky complete with fluffy cotton-candy clouds.

But outside in the real world beyond the wall you could hear the rain.

When Natalie came in with the perfume lady it was obvious they were worried about disclosing their findings. But Raphael had pretty much already clued me in.

Natalie was the one to explain it all in careful technical detail: the lack of any follicles around the ovaries, how my blood nevertheless showed absolutely balanced and normal hormone levels between estrogen and progesterone, being at the stage where an egg should be released by a follicle and sent on its way to the uterus in its hope to encounter some male produced counterparts.

That and how the measurements of the blood exactly matched what they had seen in all their prior tests, with the only variance being minimal shifts of glucose levels.

The doctor (who’s name I had done my best to ignore) tried to interrupt a few times, but Natalie shushed her with a firm look each time.

But the therapist still wouldn’t cut to the chase and I’d had enough. “I’m barren,” I interrupted. “Just skip to the end of the bullshit and say it.”

Natalie had the grace to cringe. “I’m sorry, Jordan - but it appears so. Doctor Yellen’s devise shows your ovaries to be completely lacking of any eggs. And with the steady-state nature of your hormones favoring estrogen and lacking the follicles to remain and produce progesterone, your womb will not thicken to be ready to accept an egg even should one be procedurally transplanted.”

I stared at the green and off-white tiled floor, feeling numb.

Doctor Yellen (damn, perfect memory won’t let me forget her name now) opened her yap again. “Many women would count you lucky, you know - you won’t suffer monthly periods with their pains and messes. Why, I have often thought to induce such a state in myself, after all with some effort I’m sure I could build an artificial womb that could carry a child to term later should I wish it-”

“Doctor.” Natalie glared at the woman. “Why don’t you go double check the findings?”

Yellen snorted. “The results were obvious. Even a first year intern could interpret them. With her exemplar metabolism, even IVF hormone treatments would fail to allow such a womb to ever quicken and hold a child.”

“Leave, Doctor. Now.” Natalie pointed angrily at the door. With a casual shrug, the woman got to her feet and shuffled out.

At least the horrid flowery stench went with her.

“Jordan?” Natalie leaned closer, trying to make eye contact. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Can I go now?” I was still staring at the door the medical devisor had used to exit.

“Do you want to talk about it? I know this is a shock.”

“No.”

She sighed quietly. “I’m here for you if you need me. Call me, day or night, okay?”

“Sure. We done? I’d like to go back to my room now.”

After a hesitation, she nodded. “We’re done. But I’d like to check in with you this weekend, alright?”

“Sure,” I said again.

She opened the door for me, but I didn’t say anything or look at her as I left. I just needed out.

It rained heavily the whole way back to Hawthorne. There was an umbrella in my book-bag, but I didn’t think to pull it out.

~o~O~o~

Back at the attic sanctuary Khan tried to get me to play without much success. After settling for some scritches, he decided to go run amok in the rafters because hey, they were there.

As for me, everything seemed unreal and distant. I was a girl, but not really, not where it counted.

Raphael’s revelation that Gabriel was missing was also damn troubling. Problem was, I wasn’t sure I could tell anyone about that. Nick had warned me against spilling the beans to the rabbi about what had happened on the other side back when I had died and was resurrected, and this felt like something else that was really dangerous to know.

Nick was the only one I could really talk to about it, and the bastard hadn’t called back like he said he would. I swore that someday I’d have him and Isaiah try to get in touch with each other, the resulting silence would be profound.

Feeling I might do something stupid like punch another wall, I pulled out my dad’s guitar instead. After retuning the strings, I plunged into a frenetic Bulerias.

Not wanting to think, the music gave a great excuse to avoid doing so. I fell into the tempo and falsettas, repeating a piece from the beginning whenever a mistake was made.

I must have lost track of time because it was entirely dark outside when the room’s phone rang. The sound snapped me out of the reverie, and I fumbled for the receiver.

“Yeah?”

“Jordan?” Mrs. Cantrel was calling from downstairs. “Your dance partner, Zap, is here waiting and wondering if you’re going to class.”

Shit. Ballroom dance. Dangit, that meant I had also missed dinner completely.

For a second it was tempting to decline and skip the class as Natalie would surely give me cover for ditching, but then Zap wouldn’t have someone to practice with. There were an even number of kids in the class, and as I wanted to get to know him better I had quickly grabbed him to be my partner. He’d saved my bacon in the whole incident with Tamara and her demon after all.

I figured us stepping on each other’s toes by accident couldn’t be any more embarrassing than when he had passed out stark naked on top of me at the end of that whole encounter. As for having given him a peepshow while he'd been a hawk, when I’d asked him what he remembered from his time as the bird he only grinned and had refused to answer.

Yeah, overall I’d have to say we were even on that score.

“Jordan? You there?” Oops, Mrs. Cantrel was still waiting for a response.

“Tell him I’m coming.”

“He says not to forget your heels like you did on Wednesday.”

Blah. Those things were uncomfortable, but Cecilia wanted the girls to practice in them as much as possible. “Fine, fine. I’ll grab them.”

Fortunately my clothes had already dried from the earlier downpour and the standard uniform with skirt was good enough to practice in. So after picking up the pair of white and gold stilettos that Ms. Rogers had claimed would perfectly match the dress she was making for me, I hurried downstairs.

Zap waited in the lounge. We all knew his real name, but everyone still called him Zap. We were about the same height, and he had decided to grow his hair long. Unfortunately it was still in that awkward in-between stage and thus he looked rather like a mop-top member of the Monkeys.

Not that I’d tell him that.

“You ready?” he asked after I reached the ground floor and popped out of the elevator. If the campus rumor-mill had filled him in on things, he didn’t let it show.

“Sure, let’s go.”

The rain had let up for the moment which was weirdly disappointing, and we hurried to the gym in silence. He usually didn’t say much unless prompted and for once I was grateful. When the term started he had barely said anything more than a few words or maybe a grunt or two. He’d opened up, at least to me, but it had been slow going. When going around campus, however, he was hyper alert - those golden-brown eyes darting from sound to sound building a perfect mental map of everything occurring in the vicinity. Residuals from having been a hawk was my bet.

We were the last to arrive. Cecilia quickly formed us up to practice the steps she had demonstrated over the past couple weeks. She gave me a large sympathetic look as I came in, which made me internally wince. She’d been informed, wonderful.

Privacy, thy name is not Whateley.

She hit the music, and Zap put an arm around my waist before taking my hand.

We danced.

He was really good. He had this natural balance - something I was still working on. As partners I couldn’t have chosen better for he had this almost infinite patience and effortlessly picked up the dance moves Cecilia had been trying to teach everyone.

I was improving, but the first couple classes were really awkward. Just being held by a guy was weird enough, trying to move ‘naturally’ with spikes under my heels was tricky.

Turning at the end of the gym, he pulled me closer still. There was something comforting about his presence, even like this. There was this quiet solidity to him, and I don’t mean just physically because it was more than that. He had this immovable center, a core that while it could bend, it would never break.

Even if breaking would end the pain.

My wife Caroline had described me that way once - when I had held her tightly as she wept after the doctors told her the same things that they had told me today. She knew that as much as we both wanted children, I could never leave her just because she would be unable to bear them.

Such a thought had never registered, or if it had it was dismissed immediately as an absurdity unworthy of any further consideration. I don’t remember which.

As she lay dying those few all-too-short months later she told me I must find someone new. Marry them, she fervently had said, and go father the child she wished we could have shared. She made me promise.

And here I was, in a new body, in a new life, and I could never fulfill her dying wish for me. These insane changes completely destroyed the promise I had given. I’d spent the intervening years mourning deeply for her, rejecting all notions of dating anyone else. The chances and opportunities friends had tried to encourage to break me out of that shell had all been wasted and ignored.

My cheeks were wet and it wasn’t raining indoors.

Zap had stopped moving, he was staring wordlessly at the tears.

Ms. Rogers stepped up behind him, whispering to take me outside. I didn’t resist when he pulled me past the doors.

Once away from everyone else I collapsed against him. Without volition huge racking sobs of anguish soaked through his shirt faster than the lightly falling rain.

He held me close and let me cry.

~o~O~o~

Zap escorted me to the cafeteria when the class was over. Once I’d gotten myself together again, we’d gone back inside and continued practicing. Cecilia hovered nearby, but had been kind enough not to say anything.

A good number of the girls had also nodded to me with sympathy. As I had figured would happen, news had spread fast.

He stayed quiet until we’d already spent a few minutes picking at the food on our plates.

“Want to talk about it?” He said it casually, but you could hear the underlying concern.

“Not really,” I said.

Pause. “Okay.” He took another cheese-laden bite of his lasagna bolognese.

“You know,” I said, hoping to change the subject, “I’ve never asked you why you cursed at the sky after you saved me and Tamara. Were you just upset about being human again? Is it that bad?”

He stiffened, which made me feel guilty for being rude and asking. But after a moment he shrugged.

“Being human is fine. It’s what that asshole keeps shouting every morning at dawn that pisses me off. Easier to ignore as a bird.”

“Asshole?”

“Yeah. Ra.”

Wait, what? I replayed that scene in the forest: hawk-headed warrior standing guard, saying he had to go, shifting form to Zap…oh, and the sunlight that streamed down on him the whole time and which had disappeared when Zap came back.

Sunlight. Ra. Hawk-headed warrior who kicked serious ass. Oh shit!

“Holy crud, were you channeling Ra when you shifted out of hawk to help fight the demon-thing?”

Zap shook his head. “Only his energy, like a power-up boost.”

“Oh. So what does Ra shout at you?” I couldn’t help it, I had to ask.

He snorted in disgust. “He shouts pronouncements that I’m the god Heru and need to wake up. Yeah, fuck that noise.”

I gaped openly at him. After my fork kept not moving from where it hovered, he looked up. “What?”

“You’re Horus, I mean, Heru? The other hawk god? That’s, uh-”

“It’s a pain in the ass, is what it is. You have any idea how depressed that guy is?”

“Ra is depressed?”

He rolled his eyes. “Not Ra. Heru.”

“Why?”

Zap tilted his head, much like he had done as a hawk. “Dude was once god-king over Egypt and its entire civilization. His people and their traditions are all gone, and his cities are buried in sand. How much more depressing can you get?”

“But if you’re him…?” I admit, I was fairly confused.

He groaned and pointed a fork at me. “Look - gods are complicated spirits, okay? They have aspects, shards, bits of themselves that go off and do things. Read the myths, it’s all in there. Ra won’t shut up about me being one of them.”

“Is that why you stayed a hawk for so long?”

He grinned mischievously, stabbing more lasagna. “Birds don’t give a crap about the past, they just care about eating and fu…uh, other things. Worked great.”

I thought about the dream of Gabriel and Danielle’s report of also having past-life dreams. “Do you have memories of being Heru? From those old days?”

He shrugged. “A couple fragments, nothing really coherent. I try to block ‘em out.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“I already know what happened. Open a history book, it’s all there. He can keep his damn memories, I don’t want them.”

“Why not?” I asked again.

Zap’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Because I’m me, and I’m keeping it that way. I sure as shit am not going to let the ghost of some dying god swamp who and what I am.”

I contemplated my mostly uneaten steak salad. “Maybe you could teach Danielle how to do that - blocking stuff out, that is.”

“Danielle? Your freshman friend?”

“Yeah. She’s likely a reincarnate of an old sidhe and has relived some of it in her dreams. She’s learning magic from them, but I worry.”

“You’re afraid she’s going to lose herself to what she was.”

“Pretty much. She’s seems happy with it now, but as I understand the history the sidhe were pretty much wiped off the planet. Eventually she’ll trigger memories that won’t be happy. Like your Heru.”

“Until she wants to block that stuff, and I mean really want to, it won’t work. No matter what I show her. It’s, uh, it’s a bit like covering your ears while shouting loudly and running into a closet to get away from it at times.”

“You didn’t though.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Run. When it counted. Even as a hawk you were watching out for me and you let Heru take over to fight that demon. Thank you. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if it hadn’t been for you.”

His cheeks went all rosy as he looked away. “The bird liked you.”

I smiled. “The bird was you.” I picked at the salad, stabbing a bit of beef before grinning. “Totally worth the smuggled hot dogs onto the balcony.”

He grinned back, still flushing pink. “Those were tasty.”

“Aha, you do remember! Which means you remember seeing me topless!”

Those cheeks went a much deeper red but the grin didn’t falter. “Maybe?”

I couldn’t help it. Laughter overtook me, hard enough that my eyes watered. His silly smile kept it going. The few other late-evening diners stared at me like I’d lost my mind, but I didn’t care.

Right as I was calming down, he looked up and away and with an expression of forced innocence said, “Boing!”

I snerked loudly and lost it again.

After the day I’d had, I really needed it. Once we’d bussed our trays and were about to wander back to our own cottages, I impulsively grabbed him in a hug.

“Thanks, Zap.”

I must have caught him off guard, yet he went with it and held me close again. His expression, though, was of someone struggling with something. But with a forced casualness he only said, “Anytime, Jordan. See you later!”

It wasn’t until I’d gotten back to the doors of Hawthorne that I figured it out. He’d debated on whether he should try to kiss me. What was more disturbing as I went inside was that I wasn’t sure whether or not he’d made the right decision.

Chapter 5 - Feathers

“No, you’re just not getting it!”

Danielle threw her hands up in exasperation. She sat on a chair outside the circle covering the bedroom floor and had been glaring at me. We’d moved the bed out of the way (easy to do considering the size of the room, and how strong we both were), and I had plopped myself into the center of the three rings that kept the energy from flooding the cottage.

Around on the floor lay the wreckage of yet more candles, making white goopy circles of their own on the aluminum foil trays. Some wax had blown clear of the shiny improvised place-mats; it was going to be a pain to clean.

The day so far had been decent enough, especially after a surprisingly restful night of sleep. No dreams, no weirdness, just me and Khan snoozing and purring the night away. The little guy had graciously allowed me to sleep in, thus I had been late to the defensive driving class I’d signed up for in the hopes to be allowed to park on campus at the end of the term. It was an interesting class: we’d quickly gone through the usual types of vehicles in these state-of-the-art simulators and had moved on to things like armored vehicles and tanks. Motorcycles had been the most fun so far.

After lunch Danielle had marched me back here with a fresh pack of white candles and her notebook of magic incantations. She was fixated on me being finally able to light a flame by the end of the day.

The odds of that happening weren’t good.

“I’m trying!” I grumped with equal frustration. “I can gather the energy, hell I can keep it contained without these circles now for the most part, but it just won’t do anything! It’s like I’m using the wrong language or focus or something.” Whatever words I had instinctively shouted back at the DPA testing facility to such great effect refused to become clear in an otherwise perfect memory. Like there was a mental block in there, which just made the continued failure so much more annoying.

She casually gestured at a pillar candle placed on the desk and said, “Fuego!” The damn wick instantly whooshed into bright flame. It even danced about as if taunting me. “It shouldn’t really matter what language you use as long as it has meaning for you,” she said, knowing she’d proven the point by imitating one of our favorite modern-fantasy characters. “It’s all in the intent, visualization, and flow.”

“I dunno. It’s like my interface is broken or something. I can feel the command trying to go, but then it just bounces back into my face. This is useless.” I shook my head.

“You’re just upset that I can do it and you can’t, ‘uncle’.” She grinned, having made the scare quotes around our old relationship moniker obvious by her tone.

I threw her a dirty look and followed up by sticking out my tongue. “I thought I had gotten over you abusing my ego years ago when you used to cream me at Mario Kart.”

She giggled. “God, you really sucked at that game.”

I made a bigger show of being disgusted, but internally was smiling. If she ever figured out how badly I’d played on purpose…

“But more seriously,” she was saying, “You’ve got the manna channeling thing down pat. I mean, you have more energy than anyone else on campus. All of us sensitives can tell that much.”

“Really?”

“Jeeze, I’ve had to argue with other magic users to prevent them from doing something stupid like trying to tap into you as if you’re some kind of battery. I mean, we’ve all been warned against reaching into ley-lines, but some of these idiots think you’d be safer somehow.”

“Uh, how’d you convince them not to?” Holy hell, and what would I do if they tried?

“Reminded ‘em that you live in Hawthorne for a reason and that if they were to attempt something incredibly dumb like that to make sure I wasn’t in the same building or anywhere near the inevitable explosion. Shut them up pretty quick.” She smirked.

“Huh. Good.”

“Has the rabbi said anything about your spectacular lack of success with the spells? Anything useful?”

I sighed ruefully. “Not really. He only emphasized that I should have patience, and at the very least master control of the energy itself. If I can prove to him I can do that then I might be allowed to power up in martial arts class. So far that seems to be the most useful thing I can do reliably. Filling my physical body up with the power is easy now, but keeping it from leaking if I get distracted by fighting is tricky.”

She nodded. “That’s something they’ve been teaching in survival class. Spell knowledge and theory is great and all, but using it in a moment of panic is something else entirely.”

“Yep. And you never know if you’ll freeze up until the moment hits. Doesn’t have to be combat either, any kind of pressure crisis can trigger it. Seen enough programmers lock up under severe time crunch when the stress levels got high enough.”

“You didn’t when you came to rescue me.”

“That’s because I was too stupid to know what I was doing.” I smiled at her.

She smiled too, but it faded. “This is really strange, you know.”

“What, me failing the simplest spell, or the fact that Khan is actually trying to nap and not demanding attention?” I pointed at the fuzzy lump sprawled out on the purple comforter, four paws dangling up in the air with the rest of him flat on his back.

“No. It’s just…” She hesitated.

“Go ahead, hon. Whatever is bothering you.”

“All of this.” She gestured at me, and back at herself. “Us. You like that, me like this. I mean, you are…or were my uncle, an adult, and you took care of me when Mom,” she choked up, “…when Mom died. And now…”

“Now I’m just another student at your school, and a girl at that.”

“Yeah. Except when it’s just the two of us you sound like your old self. But out there?” She waved towards the balcony and the school beyond. “Out there, you’re more and more just like any girl going to the school. It’s weird.”

“I’m sorry.” I fidgeted, not knowing what to say.

“Jordan, who do you want to be?”

“That’s…a really good question, hon.” Unfortunately I didn’t have a good answer. “Who do you need me to be?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s a cop out. It’s not about me and what I want or need. It’s about you.”

“You’ve been talking with Natalie.”

“Well, duh. I’ve got an entire previous life and its personality to deal with so she’s asked me the same thing. But no distracting or sidestepping over to my problems - I asked you. Stay on target, Red Five!”

She earned a small grin with that, but yeah, best to fess up in all seriousness. “I guess I don’t know. As each day goes by, being like this becomes more normal. At times that is upsetting all by itself. I feel like I might be losing who I was, but then the fact that I died smacks me in the face. That life is gone. The only thing remaining from it is you.”

“Would it be better, you know, if we didn’t hang out or talk?” A cheek quivered as she asked.

“Hell no! Dangit hon, knowing you are here too is the only thing keeping me sane! We’ve both lost our old lives and are trying to start these new ones, but I don’t ever want to let go of the last beautiful treasure that remains. You. Well, and Khan, of course.”

That got a slight chuckle. “Of course.”

“I know I can’t be the adult or parental figure in your life any more, and yeah, that hurts. I’ve tried my best to not act that way towards you the past couple weeks. With all the teachers on your case, not to mention Isaiah demanding you email him those daily updates, I think you’ve got plenty of that. But I can still be there for you as more than a friend. We’re family. You’re all I have left, sweetie. Which means I’ll worry about you, just like I think you’ve been worrying about me.”

She gazed into the still-burning candle. “I heard about what happened yesterday. Rumors are saying that you were pregnant and had an abortion at Doyle.”

“What?!”

“They said you were late on your period. Did something else happen to you when you were attacked? Did that gryphon guy do something, like, unnatural to you?”

Face meet palm. Hard. “Oh for fuck’s sake. I am not, nor was I ever, pregnant. And no, Tsáyid did not rape me. Slit my throat, sure, but nothing more.” I gave a short bark of a laugh.

“Then what…?” She was clearly confused.

“I’m barren, Danielle. Utterly and totally barren. No periods, no eggs, no bearing children.” That came out with a lot more bitterness than I’d intended.

“Oh my god, like Aunt Caroline? I’m so sorry!”

It was a good thing I’d already released all the summoned energy because before I knew it Danielle had tackle-hugged me in the center of the circle.

“That’s just awful!” she said, horrified. “I know how much you and she wanted a baby, Mom was so sad for you guys when she found out. And I wanted a cousin too!”

I let her hug me, patting her hair awkwardly. “Yeah, well, as we both have learned all too well life is giving us dramatically different things from anything we could expect.”

She sniffled something fierce. I managed to extricate myself and fetch the tissues, holding them out for her. She took one gratefully.

With a long sigh I said, “I guess overall I’m just like any other teenager, sweetie.”

After blowing her nose, she asked, “How so?”

“Desperately trying to figure out who I am and where I’m going. The fact that I’ve done it before and have all that experience to draw on cushions it somewhat, I guess. I’d like to feel I was successful enough to not need to worry about whether I can do it again, but that doesn’t make things any less confusing. Hell, I might even like boys now. It’s a mess.” I tried to laugh but it came out more like a hiccup.

She wiped her eyes. “Natalie warned me against trying to rely on the past life stuff in deciding who I am. She said it was from a much different time and that I should hold on to how I was raised this go-round. To try and keep a firm grip on the nature of the world as it exists now. Otherwise I might fall into potential traps of being lost in sorrows over stuff that happened perhaps tens of thousands of years ago. I think the counselors here have dealt with this kind of thing a few times.”

“Seems smart.”

“Could it also apply to you? Maybe not the thousands of years part, but…”

“I get it. However, I only have the one childhood to draw upon. And my losses are just that: mine. Not from a different lifetime lived ages ago. I imagine there is wisdom that can be drawn from your past life too, but treating it like reading a book might be safer. Identify with her as a character but not as your core. I’d hate to lose my niece.”

“Am I losing my uncle?”

“Oh hon.” I pulled her into a hug. “You will never lose the love I have for you. We will always be family, regardless of bodies, and regardless of what anyone says about our spirits and who they were or who they are now. Family. I swear I will always be there for you.”

A pulse of power moved within, raising the hairs on my skin. A singular chime vibrated deep in the center of my soul. She stiffened, obviously feeling it too.

We were about to comment but a knock on the door startled us. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she scooted back so I could get my ass up and go open the door.

It was Jenna. “Hey Jordan!” she said all too cheerfully.

Not entirely happy at the timing of the interruption, I said, “Hi Jenna. Need something?”

“Want to go on a field trip?” She grinned wide, brushing aside blonde hairs from today’s wig selection away from her face.

“A field trip?”

“Yep! With the weather finally chilling out it’s safe for Penelope to go outside. Mrs. Cantrel is inviting a few of us who won’t have issues with the cold to join them for a quick trip off campus!”

Penelope had been stuck in her room all summer. For her a balmy seventy degrees Fahrenheit was like one-hundred twenty for the rest of us so she’d been effectively trapped. But this September had cooled off a lot faster than most years and looked like it should safely stay that way for at least a few more days. The rain had even stopped overnight and left clear (yet cold) skies behind.

“Like right now?”

“Absolutely! You had lunch already, right? Hi Danielle!” Jenna waved through the doorway. “Want to come too? There should be room for one more in the van, and as you’re also an exemplar a cold breeze shouldn’t bother you either.”

I looked back at Danielle and shrugged.

She shook her head at the mess I’d made of her candles. “May as well, we aren’t making any progress. We’ll just continue your torment some other time.”

Jenna bounced. “Awesome! Wear swimsuits!”

Swimsuits? Danielle gave me a huge evil smile as she said, “Oh we most definitely will, right Jordan?”

“Uh…sure?”

“Perfect! Meet downstairs in twenty!” And with that Ms. Perky Let’s-Embarrass-Ourselves-In-Public Jenna skipped the elevator to dance down the stairwell in the attic’s lobby area.

Danielle giggled. “You do have a suit, right?”

“I uh…” For a moment the temptation to lie shot skyward, but I resisted. “Yeah. I do. Cecilia Rogers sent me one for free because she claimed I seriously over-tipped.”

“Muhahaha…can’t wait to see you in it! I’ll go run and get mine.”

With that she also darted towards the stairs, leaving me alone with a deeply sleeping cat. He didn’t even stir as I rummaged in the wardrobe searching for the slinky and barely-there two pieces of deep purple fabric that Cecilia had sent.

“Why do I feel like fate is conspiring against me?” I muttered before changing into the ridiculous thing. Frankly it felt like I was wearing even less than when I had on only underwear and a bra. Worse still was how good the damn thing looked when I caught the reflection in the mirror. At least being Cecilia-crafted I knew it would be really durable and the knots holding the top and bottom pieces in place wouldn’t slip free. Small comfort, but it would have to do.

I threw a sweater and pair of sweats on over it all before tying on some sandals. That at least covered it up and removed the risk of any lustful spontaneous brain hemorrhaging within the local male teenage populace on the way out.

Lord knows I would have reacted just as badly to such a sight when I was that age.

~o~O~o~

Lieutenant Forsyth was drafted by Mrs. Cantrel to drive the Whateley van for our excursion. The long van had been modified so our house-mother could just hover into the back with her custom handicap floating chair. Wherever she’d gotten that thing made, it was a serious piece of tech.

Penelope was ecstatic over being able to go outside and, unlike the rest of us girls, hadn’t bothered covering up. Instead she danced all scantily clad in her tiny bikini into the front passenger seat after shouting ‘shotgun’ with glee. The blueish-green fabric made a nice contrast against the copper tones of her skin.

I will admit the wide-brimmed straw hat she had on was also cute, it even had a small recognizable penguin logo affixed to the front.

Danielle and Jenna grabbed the middle row, leaving me sitting next to Brendan behind them. The poor guy barely fit in the seat and kept apologizing whenever his knee would smack into my leg. He had to keep them widely splayed out just to wedge himself in. At first I had been surprised Jenna hadn’t wanted to sit next to him, but given her own height it was obvious that they both would have been really cramped if squeezed in next to each other.

By the time we drove past the suspicious-looking gargoyles at the main gate all the girls up front were busily singing the latest Lady Gaga song at the top of their lungs and drowning out the radio speakers. The Lieutenant had already thrice refused to turn the volume up any louder, so the girls had decided to make up the difference themselves. Exuberance, sadly, does not compensate for being seriously off-key.

Brendan, after rolling eyes towards the roof at the uncoordinated assault on our eardrums, pulled out a computer tablet which on boot up landed on a news page. I glanced quickly at it, noting that the top story was something about an explosion in Syria complete with a fuzzy black and white picture of the scene.

Shrugging, I turned to stare out at the forest trees that started zipping past, but something about that photo kept bugging me until I had to do something about it.

“Hey, can I see that headline news story?” I shouted, hoping he could hear me over the screeching chicken debate happening up front.

“Hmm?” Nope, he couldn’t.

I pointed at the tablet and leaned closer to his ear. “I want to see that news story!”

“Oh! Here, I’ve got another one.” He handed me this tablet, and fished a second from his bag. Looked like Jenna had made him carry hers too.

Hitting the back button a couple times brought up the story: ‘Central Synagogue of Aleppo Bombed’. I zoomed in on the picture showing smoldering rubble of what must have been a fairly large building wedged between many others. Emergency crews were trying to put the fire out, and a number of victims lay scattered about a small roadway in front. Some were on stretchers, others had been left where they must have fallen on the ground.

My gut bottomed out as I stared at the image. Because there, on one of the stretchers in the background, lay an unmistakable Nicolas Wright. He didn’t look conscious.

“Oh shit, oh shit…” Lungs began to work overtime and I had to force myself to breathe slower. I wanted to call Goodman, the Director at the DPA, and find out what the hell happened but I was in a van full of other students. Disturbingly loud ones at that.

I hastily sent a text message to Natalie instead. She was on loan to Whateley from the DPA after all, and in a weird way was therefore my main contact with them. She needed to know and maybe she could find out something, or even inform the home office if they hadn’t seen the pictures yet themselves.

‘Natalie! Look at the photo for the Aleppo Bombing on the news feeds - Nick Wright is on a stretcher! Is he alive???’

With an echoing pulse almost drowning out the girls, I waited for a response. It didn’t take long.

‘My god, you’re right. I’ll call it in. Where are you?’

‘On a field trip with Cantrel and kids…what the hell is he doing in Syria?? He said he needed to go to Jerusalem!’

‘Come by my office when you get back, I’ll try to have some intel by then - if I can.’

‘Okay’

Chewing at my lip, I went back to the tablet and tried to dig up whatever I could about that synagogue. The mind boggled at what was found. Apparently it was the site that had contained an extremely old and notable version of the Hebrew Bible - one endorsed by a very famous rabbi (named Maimonides) for its accuracy.

While the synagogue had been set on fire in 1947 during anti-Jewish riots, the Aleppo Codex (what they called the manuscript after it sat in Aleppo for six-hundred years) had mostly survived. It currently resided in something called the ‘Shrine of the Book’ at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.

Of real interest was that not all the pages had made it out of Aleppo and it was claimed that the missing ones had burned. Yet reports also said that none of the remaining pages had been singed.

Pages were simply missing, likely torn out.

There was a lot of controversy regarding the Codex, but the remaining pages had apparently been authenticated by leading scholars.

What the hell was Nick doing there? Did he have a lead on those missing pages or was he going after something altogether different? Dammit. I bet only he would know.

I hoped he hadn’t died - and not just because he was the only real chance for figuring out what the hell Soren had done to me and why. The man had helped save Danielle. I owed him. Plus the last time we spoke, he’d actually been honest and forthright about things.

Being so engrossed between trying to find more news articles about the explosion and reading further into the history of the Codex, I hadn’t noticed when the van stopped and everyone else got out.

“Jordan? You coming?” Mrs. Cantrel, having already disembarked, hovered at the side of the van’s open door.

“Huh? Oh, yeah…uh where are we?” I looked past her to see we were parked in a gravel lot. Brendan and Jenna were busy unloading a number of folding beach chairs.

“At a local lake,” she replied. “A bit chilly for my bones to go swimming, but you kids should be fine.”

Brendan bellowed at me over a shoulder. “Just leave the tablet in the van!”

I yelled back. “Got it!”

Turning off the device and dropping it on the seat, I scooted out as Danielle gleefully shouted at Penelope from the opposite side of the van. “Last one in is a rotten dragon egg!”

Penelope gave a giggling shriek and they raced off, presumably towards water.

Noting that there were six chairs and that with Jenna, Brendan, and myself we had six available hands to carry them, I quickly went over and grabbed a pair. Not that Jenna and Brendan couldn’t have carried more, but why be rude?

As we lugged the chairs around the van and towards a wide path, I caught sight of Danielle. She wore a white bikini two-piece and was laughing while easily running ahead of poor Penelope past all the green trees lining the path to a shimmering lake.

My stomach fell to the floor a second time. So did the two chairs that fell from my fingers. I’d seen this scene before. Back at powers testing. When I’d lost control.

When I’d seen the gryphon, Tsáyid, swoop out of a forest with the intent to take my niece’s life.

Eyes darting upwards caught sight of the black shape as it emerged from the obscuring foliage to barrel towards her on silent shadowy wings.

“Danielle! NO!!!”

Her running faltered as she turned towards my shout and she let out a scream of her own.

Black raven claws had pierced her shoulders and were carrying her up into the sky.

~o~O~o~

Everything went white.

He’d kill her. If I didn’t stop him, he’d kill her. As sure as the grass was green or the sky the bastard was flying into was blue.

All of Nick’s previous warnings against overload were ignored instantly, discarded as unimportant and if anything a hindrance to what needed to be done.

I didn’t just reach for the light, I plunged into it.

The limiter on the connection that had time and time again likely prevented serious damage appeared clearly as this intricate circle of energy in my inner vision. It rotated there, fully inscribed with brilliant golden names of power and diamond-forged sigils of meaning as it restricted the flow from that greater pillar of light which lay beyond.

Jenna and Brendan shouted my name, hands held before them trying to protect their eyes from the brilliance being cast forth unshielded.

I ignored them.

With flapping wings the gryphon climbed further into the sky while Danielle struggled against the claws piercing her skin. Both soon hovered several thousand feet up directly above a wide island dominating the center of the lake.

It was all so perfectly clear as if I was right there next to them. Her frantically screaming spells in an attempt to gain freedom, oblivious to the danger of what would happen should they succeed. But her invocations, her fae magic, slid off the dark feathers and fur as if the gentlest of spring rain.

Across that distance the beast looked to me with those stony raven eyes. And spoke straight into my mind.

The Master sends his regard and a message.

I shouted my response. “Fuck your master and his message, bring her back! Now!”

Sorrow I have as the deliverer, little sparrow. Yet the Master bids thee to learn.

Tears of glittering sparks burned down my cheeks, because as much as I could pull in the power I couldn’t use it. I couldn’t reach him, couldn’t save her. At that distance, none of us here could.

“Learn what? Bring her back!”

The Throne and its Light are a lie. They cannot save what is precious to you.

Oh shit. He really was going to kill her. Like he tried to do to me when he slit my throat.

The Master acknowledges your rise in power. But it is not enough. Never enough.

Dammit, no! I had to stall. Anything to keep him busy. “Tell him he should come and see my power for himself! Instead of hiding behind you like a damn coward! Tell him I challenge him, just us two!”

He sends his response.

Claws stained with blood withdrew from her shoulders. With a mighty scream of terror, Danielle fell.

There were no thoughts. Everything was thrown at that shining limiting circle. Everything. All the energy and light I had pulled in, all the rage, all the fear, and most of all the love-driven need to save her.

I had sworn to be there for her. I had to be. It was all that mattered.

An explosion ripped outward, tossing me like a kite in a hurricane from the resulting multiple concussive waves of force. The complex circle, its names, its sigils, its power, detonated into billions of streaming sparks, visible now to everyone and not just to that inner sight. The shock wave scorched the dirt where I had been standing, shattered the van’s windows, and knocked everyone else to the ground. Twin vortexes of fiery light flashed behind me though the air and set distant trees instantly aflame.

I found myself airborne.

And Danielle was falling rapidly towards the hard ground of the island below.

With a wordless cry of will and need I sped towards her, the unleashed energy now flowing free. No longer a trickle or even a faucet, it was a flood washing away any remains of the dam that had been keeping it in check. The lake billowed with steam as I flew across the waters to intercept her terminal trajectory.

No! I am commanded not to fail!

Tsáyid emitted a raven shriek and panther’s roar, plunging into his own dive to race towards our shared target.

Sight blurred as everything I had within was shoved into raw speed.

I got to her first.

Arms clamped around her protectively before the beast collided into my back and talons ripped through skin. I hugged her close, trying to wrap her within all the light that I could muster.

“You shall not have her, you bastard!”

Pain blossomed from the repeated slashes into my neck, along my back, and across the wings of light that held us aloft. But it didn’t matter. I had her.

His efforts became desperate. To his dismay, each slice only cast forth even more brilliance before swiftly closing over. He shifted tactics, trying to grapple instead to get those claws, both raven and forest cat, past me and into what I had sworn to keep and defend.

A symbol formed in the mind’s eye, and without hesitation I shouted the word it formed.

Another tremendous blast of light burst forth into the startled gryphon and launched him back towards shore. I flew after him, consumed with the need to take him down.

He recovered in the air, trying to drive back towards us. Again I shouted the word, sending a wave of light smashing into - and through - his essence.

The Light! It burns!

I hit him with it three more times until the last punched him into the wet earth by the water’s edge.

With those last hits he hadn’t been trying to attack, rather he’d unfolded wings from the tumbling as if only to bask in what I was throwing.

As we reached the shore Tsáyid had crouched on all fours, feathered wings smoldering against scorched fur with head and torso held low to the ground.

He was kneeling. And this time when he spoke it was not mind to mind.

“Lady, I beg thee! End me while the Light of All has weakened the Master’s grip!”

What?

Danielle, her voice weak, whispered, “He’s a slave. Help him. It’s not his fault.”

Landing besides the crater formed by the gryphon’s impact on the lake’s shore, I gently set Danielle on her feet - making sure she was able to hold herself up. The wounds on her shoulders were already starting to heal, faster than her regeneration normally was capable.

“Quickly! Before the Master rips me from this host!” Tears of desperation fell upon raven cheeks.

Stepping forward, I hesitated and looked back at Danielle.

“Hurry!” she pleaded.

“How do you know?” Not that I wanted to doubt but this was the same asshole who had sliced my throat from side to side and had just tried to kill her!

“Because I know who his master is!” she cried. “I’ve felt that energy before in my dreams of the past; it uses people as if they were puppets!”

Reaching out a glowing hand to Tsáyid’s forehead, I needed to check for myself.

~o~O~o~

It was like peering through an immense gallery measured not in years or even centuries, but eons.

Tsáyid had once been an angel of the Host, a Kerubim.

Pictures danced. He fought alongside six squad-mates as they stood against a terrible Darkness. It lacked all definition yet threw entities of endless appetites towards all the intrusions of light and order pushing outward into its depths.

They were raw patterns of energy, him and his squad. But those patterns had meaning. Raven. Lion. Hawk. Bull. Tiger. Eagle. Panther. And Man. The essences of the patterns of physical creatures not yet in existence echoing across the dreamspace within which the Kerubim fought and lived.

Each were unique in form and style, and each were bonded together by their struggles, fighting as one and healing together after mighty and victorious battles.

They were beings full of light, of laughter, of love, and an absolute singular dedication to defending the domain assigned to their care.

They were beautiful.

And they were part of something larger than themselves, bound to the infinite purpose of a greater whole. Their light and their hearts flowed freely to and from this unimaginably vast collective, and their names fit the perfection of their assigned places. His name among them had been Tsáyidiel, God’s Hunter.

He was that no longer.

Only weeks prior had I seen into a girl’s soul that was under attack by a demonic force, manifested as cruel tentacled barbs digging harshly into her inner shine. It had been heart-wrenchingly awful to behold.

This was, in its own way, worse.

I had already blasted him with the light, over and over, and his ancient energy channels yearned for any traces and echoes of the power which had burned its way through.

But those remnants of brilliance faded into darkness as if a deep internal pain could do naught but swallow all that might glimmer. Something else shoved and forced itself through those very channels that once had been glorious with creative purpose, something twisting and spoiling every passage it touched.

A cruel miasma, similar in horrible purpose to Tamara’s demonic force, had been internalized so deeply that in truth Tsáyid was but a husk being manipulated and used by the foul sludge pushing through the veins.

With a cry of dismay, I shoved light into that pattern, trying to burn away the infectious invader. All thoughts of subtlety were lost, it was a reaction born of pure instinct.

“It won’t do any good.” A voice, full of sadness, reached out to me. I recognized it immediately.

“Raphael! Help me heal him!”

“I cannot.”

That couldn’t be right. “He’s an angel and you are God’s Healer! There must be a way.”

“It is not possible,” he replied with a deep and ancient sadness. “This one has fallen beyond all hope. Look here.”

Attention was drawn towards the center of Tsáyid’s spirit. Where a word of immaculate fire had once been inscribed with loving care, now was naught but a hollow cave, the remains of his word now dark, smeared, and unreadable.

In its place a darker symbol, like a black hole devouring all traces of light, lurked within. This was the source of the black ichor growing stronger with each passing moment.

“He fell from grace, little one. And in a moment of desperation he turned to another to take up Father’s place within his heart.”

I felt sick.

“Look at the pattern again,” Raphael continued gently. “It is only the invader’s will that keeps the whole coherent. Without its influence and control, the entire fabric would collapse into lost shards streaming towards the Abyss. His own will is lost, incapable of maintaining his own existence.”

“Danielle was right,” I said, wanting to cry. “He’s a slave. Who did this to him?”

I had no form in this place, but still there was a sensation of a comforting touch. “He did it first to himself, but it is Azazel who has conquered his will and bound him. And if you do not hurry, this one’s terrible lord will pull him out of your reach, re-bind him to another hapless mortal avatar, and continue our brother’s endless suffering.”

“He asked me to end him.”

“For one such as him that is only a mercy.”

Images of this hunter’s former glory flashed past. What could have driven such a shining being to fall into a despair so powerful that he’d accept giving himself over to such invasive evil? The foul stench from the creeping muck flowing out of that rotten heart was overbearing. How long had he suffered so?

“Danielle wants me to save him.”

“Once broken, Father’s grace does not return to our kind. This name has been lost, forever and always.”

I couldn’t accept it. Had Tsáyid tried to fight against the orders from his master? Rebel against the evils that he had been commanded to perform? He had almost killed me, but he had seemed oddly reluctant to do so. Not to mention, if he had just cut off my head back at my old house when I was at his mercy that would have been it for me.

But he hadn’t. He only sliced my neck open and departed. Just like a cheap comic book villain leaving the hero (or heroine) a chance, albeit small, to survive.

Had that been deliberate? Reaching out, I touched Tsáyid’s memory of our first encounter, back to when he had tasted my blood as ordered by the cruel corruption pulling on his strings.

And I understood.

That blood had flashed through him like lightning, a reminder and literal taste of all he had once been and all he had lost. What was left of his spirit, corrupted even as it was, still deeply mourned the loss of his former comrades and that glorious unity, and he had shouted forth that tremendous internal agony, destroying the rest of Mark’s SUV in the process.

He cut my throat, yes, but deep inside he had hoped I would live. He had risked awful punishments from his enslaver - ones he had suffered before and which even the quick flashes from his memories caused me to shirk away in horror. He had deliberately given me a fighting chance to live at huge risk to himself. A chance which, with Soren’s arrival and guidance, had been successful.

I didn’t want him to die and I couldn’t leave him enslaved.

“Let him go. There is nothing you can do,” Raphael urged.

“Maybe so, but I don’t care! He earned a chance. And I promise you, he will get it.”

Emotion and will aligned, forming a standing wave of power threatening to grow without end. The brilliance crashed inward as a tidal wave flooded into the canyon of my being, rapidly rising above all limits of any rational capacity.

The decision within my heart had obliterated all restraint.

Raphael, always so calm and self-assured, reacted in alarm. “Wait, please, you could damage yourself!”

I doubt I could have stopped even if I had tried. That inrush of light overwhelmed everything, having latched onto the promise with a fierce resonance binding it to the blinding pillar stretching into the infinite. Burning with the power of a billion suns, I cried out not only from sheer pain, but also from the ecstasy that lay beyond the agony. There was only one thing to do before being consumed completely: I threw it all into Tsáyid’s core, directly at the place where once had been written something beautiful and transcendent. His former name still glimmered in the echoes of his past and I grabbed the memory of that name with all that I had.

The dark invader corrupting his heart screamed as it burnt and shriveled under the onslaught, black flakes peeling off and falling away as dust and ash. A field of despair and rejection of hope tried to coalesce and push back, but the infinite light focused to an impossible spear-point and drove the unyielding white fire right through.

Where I ended and the source began became meaningless for I was the light and it was me. There was only a cacophony of emotion and driven focus swarming the senses: a song of love and a need unknowable, so powerful in its desire and intent that nothing in existence could withstand a single unfiltered note.

And yet this symphony underlay and upheld all.

Being merged and lost within that torrent, I began to understand. Everything that was, the entire universe - or universes, as there were realms upon realms upon realms all piled onto each other yet distinct within their own individual resonances and layers - all was created by this primal energy.

Because it moved.

The substances of physicality, the substances of spirit, of emotion and of wisdom, of all life and the magic it generated, all were created by the endless dance of this light. Every idea, every atom, every flow of manna, every thread of spirit, all existed by virtue of the motion of this endless light in expression of its desire that all things be continually created.

With every bounce and leap of its ceaseless passing a symphony comprising all things emerged from the eternal dance of the infinite.

Here and now it flashed into Tsáyid with glorious purpose. Through energy channels rigid and drenched in the molasses of dark despair for years uncounted the hot and bright fire now spiraled, cleansing with both a mercilessness and a tenderness every last strand within the skein of that spirit until it too sang in perfect harmony. Like electricity overheating a coil until the metal burned past the glowing red into blinding white brightness, the weaving of darkness and grime vibrated with rising intensity until a pattern as pure and shining as the day it had been created blazed forth anew: a reforged extension of the very power that had claimed us.

At his center, as the torrent began to calm and recede, a name burned once again to sing its joy in letters of multi-colored fire: Tsáyidiel.

That wasn’t all.

Above the name, indeed anchoring it in place and fueling its fire, sat a promise engraved by the purity of the endless source.

Tsáyidiel’s spirit sounded one final mighty note as the light’s work completed, shouting its blinding glory. As focus faded a sense of self rebounded, causing the vision of spirit and source to drop away. But as I staggered and fell to weak knees back in the physical world I distinctly heard Raphael cry out in awe and fear.

“What have you done?”

Then his presence was gone.

~o~O~o~

Lying on the sandy ground was an unconscious and scrawny man wearing nothing more than boxer shorts and a sleeveless grubby t-shirt. Not that I should cast any aspersions on his wardrobe choices as other than the amazing Cecilia-crafted purple two piece bikini my own attire had been reduced to a few slips of shredded rags merely waiting for a nearby sneeze to fall off the rest of the way.

Oh, and my hand was resting on the guy’s sweaty forehead below stringy and unkempt grey hair. It was sticky.

Standing up, the world swayed and flickered. I might have fallen had Danielle not been there to put a hand on an arm. Her touch offered steady coherence, much like Raphael’s had done in the dreamworld when I was being wacky-scanned.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Turning, my first concern was her - but all her wounds were gone, not a single mark or scar remained from where claws had scraped bone. She was also covered by a thin sheen of ice. “I think so,” I stammered while looking about to get a measure of the damage.

Oh boy. The lake behind Danielle now sported a large section by the shore completely frozen over and judging by her icy armor she must have come from there. The wreckage done to the forest was extensive: treetops were still aflame, spitting wild sparks.

Back at the crumpled remains of the van Penelope peaked around a shredded bumper while Jenna and Brendan came running towards us after abandoning the partially melted shelter. Jenna was in full stone skin mode and had lost her clothing. Her armored skin was weirdly not grey as usual but instead this glossy shade of ebony. She was like this human-shaped black mirror reflecting the inferno from the trees above as she ran. It was remarkably beautiful.

“Wow, look at those wings!” Danielle exclaimed. Just as I had been trying to take in the scene, Danielle had been checking out what was behind my shoulder blades.

Twisting to the side, sure enough there were two glowing wings of gold spilling out of my back made up of white feathers forged from the electrified filaments of a thousand lightbulbs. Whoa.

I tried flexing to move them, and to my astonishment they did. I was aware of both the wings and the energy coursing through the veins of each individual feather. While I was distracted by this discovery, Danielle suddenly jerked backwards a couple steps and her hand fell from my arm.

The distant crack of a rifle’s gunshot followed quickly after.

“Jordan?” Pale blue eyes looked at me in surprised shock. Her knees buckled as she collapsed and thick red blood poured down her chest melting the ice still covering her skin.

Chapter 6 - Missing

Gunfire echoed through the forest.

I was screaming, but I don’t remember what. Danielle was on the ground bleeding heavily from the spot over her heart and I was lying over her trying to keep her covered because Lieutenant Forsythe had shouted that there were multiple snipers and for everyone to get down.

Jenna was struck as she got close, the impact causing her to tumble forward like a dark shadow projected on a screen behind a mad trapeze artist.

“Jenna! No!” Brendan, only a few steps behind her, dove towards where she lay.

From where she hit the dirt out of view Jenna shouted, but not with pain. “Wow! I’m fucking bullet proof! Jordan, stay there!”

With that she was on her feet charging into the woods. Brendan, fury replacing shock, gave chase while lines of force wavered in the air around him. More gunshots, but this time coming from Mrs. Cantrel and the Lieutenant’s position by the van.

Lt. Colin Forsythe was returning fire.

There was a loud ka-chunk, and a small cylinder hit the path between us and the parking area. It spewed out a tremendous amount of smoke, covering everything and making it impossible to see.

My hands were trying to keep Danielle’s blood from spilling free. They were glowing, attempting to help her as I had once helped Mark.

But there was an awful lot of blood.

Mrs. Cantrel’s emerged through the smoke piloting the hover chair, expression determined and focused. In rapid succession the dark-skinned woman visually examined me and Danielle, flicked at the controls to launch another smoke grenade out the back towards the snipers, and continued shouting into a wireless ear-mic that had been snapped into place.

“…at least two hostiles conventionally armed. One student down, repeat, one student down. The vehicle is disabled, our transport is gone. Request ETA on evac and medical!”

All I could do was stare down at Danielle’s pretty and unconscious face.

“That’s not soon enough!” Cantrel yelled into the link. “Dammit, Jordan…Jordan!” She nudged my arm with her chair. “Snap out of it, girl!”

I looked blankly up at her.

“Reinforcements and transport will take minutes to get here. From that wound, she doesn’t have that kind of time. Can you fly?”

Blinking, I remembered I still had wings - and power still flowed through them. And through me. The realization forced the world back into clarity. “I think I can, yes!”

From a hidden compartment she fished out a weird plastic mask contraption and tossed it over. “Put that on her, it will force air into her lungs. You can’t do CPR while in flight.”

I scrambled and slid the mask over Danielle’s head. As soon as it was in place her chest began to rise and fall from the gadget’s forced airflow.

“Now put this over the wound. It may not help much, but every bit counts.” She handed me a beige cloth-like thing, like those special ones used to dry cars, and I placed it against the raw bloody leak over Danielle’s heart. The strange cloth seemed to suck itself onto her skin - sealing the wound. A second one went over the exit hole in the middle of her back.

That done, I picked her up in my arms.

“Can you find the way to the campus?” Mrs. Cantrel demanded to know.

A moment of panic. I hadn’t paid any attention to the drive here and really didn’t have any idea where I was.

Mrs. Cantrel saw my face. “Don’t freak, girl - focus. You have a familiar. Some magic users can sense them, even from afar. Your cat, Khan, can you feel where he is? The roads don’t lead straight to get there, but a feeling will.”

Khan? How the heck…wait. My head snapped towards a direction over the lake and off to one side. For a brief second there was a flash of Khan scratching and meowing at the inside of the door to our room.

He knew something was very wrong.

“Yes, I see him! He’s that way!” With hands full, I pointed with my chin in the general direction.

“Then get her to Doyle as fast as you can without harming her further, understand? I will tell them you are on your way.”

More gunfire and shouting could be heard off in the forest and I hesitated.

“Don’t worry about us, just fly! Go!”

I took to the air.

~o~O~o~

Treetops rushed past directly below and a trail of light and tears followed behind.

I prayed to Raphael to get his help for Danielle, but I couldn’t feel him.

“Dammit, Raphael, where the fuck are you? She needs you…” Honestly, I didn’t know what he could have done to help, but I was furious that he didn’t answer.

Which is why I didn’t react very kindly when a presence popped up to the side and called my name.

“Jordan!”

I snapped before looking. “Raphael! Where the hell have you been! I’ve been calling…oh…shit, sorry Louis.”

Louis Geintz, a.k.a ‘Fubar’, had projected his mental self to ‘fly’ alongside us.

“Raphael?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but that’s a new one.”

“Sorry!” I said again. “How’d you find us?”

“You mean other than looking off into the sky and spotting the incoming blazing comet? But listen, you need to follow me in. The wards detected Class X energies…and something else…in the vicinity. An opening will be made for you, and if you miss it, well, right now let’s just say I’m not sure which would win: you or the wards.” The roaring wind blew hair into my face while he floated alongside untouched in a perfect lotus sitting position.

“I’m getting her to Doyle. I don’t care what’s in the way!”

He nodded seriously. “My point exactly. Will you let me lead you in?”

Clutching Danielle closer, I tried to increase speed. “Do it!”

“Then go up a little higher. Here, follow.”

He teleported directly in front, pointing the way. The road leading to the campus was off to the right and I remembered that the wards extended a decent distance outside the actual official limits of the school.

He had us curve up further, and this time the wards were even clearer than when I had arrived. They comprised a solid wall of energy much like a huge soap bubble, including rainbow refractions swirling about on the surface. The pattern pulsed with active energy whereas before it had seemed passive.

As we went over the protective half-dome, it became obvious where he was guiding us. A circular section opened in the wards - surrounded by a slowly expanding wheel of sigils. I aimed for the gap and was through.

It closed instantly behind.

Swooping down we made a beeline towards Doyle where a gurney and crew of medical personnel already waited in front. One of the nurses was off to the side with a young female student who I didn’t recognize. The nurse was trying to get the girl inside, but they and everyone else gaped as we came in for a landing.

Laying Danielle as gently as I could on the gurney, I took a step back to give the medical team room to do their jobs.

Please, God, if you’re listening - take care of her! Please!

They rushed her into the building, shouting about starting an IV and getting her into surgery.

Louis put an awkward arm around my shoulders, trying to offer what comfort he could as we watched Danielle get wheeled away. “They’ll take good care of her. I promise.”

“They better.”

The young girl still stared at me through horn-rimmed glasses. Her face had gone very pale and she muttered, “Gabriel?” Wide eyes then proceeded to roll up into her head.

The nurse snapped free from her own astonishment at my appearance and managed to catch the girl before she hit the ground.

~o~O~o~

Jenna raced between densely clustered trees, each step launching her faster through branches shattering against her obsidian skin. Brendan was not far behind. She could hear each of his running steps, his presence a warmth following the same path that beckoned her forward.

The blinding explosion of light that burst from Jordan upon touching the gryphon had washed through her and Brendan both, and she knew they were riding the culmination of its pulse towards those who would snuff out all illumination if given the chance.

As she gave herself over to the music reverberating within, she offered up a quick prayer to a deity she had set aside after losing the most precious thing in her life.

The foliage ahead became a blur, yet each leaf was distinct and framed with clarity. Thunderclaps of the attackers’ guns registered within her perceptions, but her body had already danced to the side as if it knew beforehand the proper path to take to avoid the deadly rounds of lead which spiraled past.

Her blood sang with righteous fury and she charged with a fierce joy at the figures ahead, noting black clouds obscuring eyes set within expressionless faces. Her body was her weapon: a fist smashed the rifle of the enemy, tearing the front end of the weapon clear off. The opponent, a man shorter in height and dressed in the fighting fatigues of a certain extra-national organization, twisted aside and drew a knife. But she had already twirled about, catching his face with an elbow and forearm to scrape past his head and grab the back of his neck. Planting her feet, her other hand smashed the nose a second time and with his head now locked in a vice grip her coiled body unwound and hurled him into a tree-trunk. The wood disintegrated into splinters. Like a kata in Sensei Ito’s class, each move of the fight was somehow known, practiced, and laid out in a glorious sequence of efficient violence.

All she had to do was connect the dots.

Brendan grunted as a third unseen attacker shot through his leg as he closed the distance with the second. He didn’t falter or even flinch as he tackled the man before him, letting his larger size and momentum plow the foe into the rough ground. Jenna sprinted towards the new threat, determined to reach the similarly uniformed woman and bring her down.

Jenna’s perceived sequence of attack shifted. Behind her the first, who by all rights should have been incapacitated by the crack denting his spine, was on his feet anyway to give chase with a knife in each hand.

The two students instinctively moved to stand back to back, preparing to deal with attackers eerily connected by strands of wispy darkness just as the light bound the two of them together.

But while they were outnumbered, Jenna and Brendan were no ordinary opponents. With hearts echoing that drumbeat singing within the marrow of their bones, they raced along the path of glorious light so clearly charting the way.

As one they lashed out with a speed, strength, and fury beyond anything their foes could counter.

~o~O~o~

Within the most warded room in the hospital, I waited anxiously.

It had been over an hour and still no word from anyone - other than the nurse who had kindly brought over a pair of white sweatpants and a blank grey t-shirt.

She also had gently suggested that maybe I should go to my room and the further protections it provided. She (and presumably everyone else in the building) was obviously quite worried what I might do should they lose Danielle.

I had stubbornly refused to go. Let them worry and do their damned best to make sure that didn’t happen.

Louis clearly had wanted to stay and wait with me, but the pensive worry lines that remained from watching the other girl pass out led me to assure him he could go. If he could help the other girl he should. Reluctantly he had acquiesced and disappeared.

All I could do was alternately pace and try to sit in between throwing prayers at the ether and despairing at Raphael’s lack of response. So yes, I pretty much spent the time worrying myself sick.

I had powered down, causing the wings to flicker out and disappear. What was really weird was that the channels for them could still be felt as they were just waiting for energy to pour back in. Whenever the anxieties would peak, they would pulse - an instant alerting mechanism that, shit, I was pulling in power again without meaning to.

There was no longer any resistance to doing so. I had a sinking feeling I could go from zero to floodlight in less than an instant.

Which may have explained the nurse’s trepidations if they had figured that out too.

My heart skipped a beat as the door opened, all the fears leaping again. But it was only Jenna, dressed in ill-fitting Whateley Security fatigues. Oh, right. She had lost her clothes before she took off into the forest. She must have lost her wig as well, because her head was again sporting the post-stone-form baldness.

“Jenna!” I jumped to my feet and pulled her into a fierce hug. “You okay?”

“Whoa, there! I’m not armored!”

Chagrined, I let go. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s alright. Any word on Danielle?”

“No. They’ve just left me in here, saying she’s in surgery. Where’s Penelope and Brendan? Are they alright?”

“They’re fine. Penelope wasn’t touched, and Brendan’s leg is all stitched up. He’ll be good by next week.”

“His leg? What happened?”

She pulled me back over to the chairs, making me sit again. “The idiot got shot trying to keep up with me.”

“Doesn’t he have regen? His codename is ‘Tank’ for crying out loud!”

“He doesn’t understand it either, he’s usually bullet proof because of his telekinetic shielding. Whereas I’m not. But the rounds bounced off of me, and yet one went right through his thigh. They haven’t told us much other than something about those bullets being special, some kind of meta-poison-projection or magical field penetrators.” She paused before looking carefully at me. “While the docs clammed up on the details, they did say those rounds also nullified regeneration powers.”

“Oh god, Danielle.”

“Yeah,” she said, putting an arm around me. “It’s probably why they’re taking so long.”

I was shaking. “Did…did you guys get the shooters?”

“Kind of. They were MCO. Three of them. But they were messed up. Their eyes were like solid black, you know, evil. And they didn’t react normally, more like they were in perfect lockstep coordination. If it wasn’t for…” She stopped herself, staring at the floor a moment before continuing. “If it wasn’t for us being supercharged, we would have been toast.”

“I saw you - all black and shiny, not grey. How did you do that?”

“Jesus, Jordan, you don’t know? It’s because of you.”

“Me?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “When you touched that gryphon son-of-a-bitch, it was like a column of power just, I dunno, detonated around you. Hell, it launched Danielle into the lake, crushed the van, and set more trees on fire. When it washed over us my power went crazy. At first my usual grey stone popped out like half a foot thick all over - totally destroying my clothes - but then it’s like the rock concentrated down. I think the density it reached was insanely high. It didn’t even feel like stone, just like this smooth skin covering.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“Brendan was right,” she said while letting me lean against her. “You can supercharge powers. He can normally only shield himself, but while we were fighting those three hand to hand? I’m pretty sure he punched one of them without actually touching them.”

“But his defense wasn’t enough to stop their bullets.”

“Forsythe says those things were really nasty pieces of work.”

I swallowed. “If the doctors were able to help Brendan, hopefully they’ll know what to do for Danielle.”

“Yeah.”

We sat silently for a minute before I asked, “What about the unconscious guy on the shore? Was he alive?”

She nodded. “Alive, and he woke up once on the trip back.” She winced. “That was creepy.”

“Why? Who is he?”

“He woke up crying for his mom, with this thick English accent. When we asked who he was, he only said his name was ‘Billy’ and kept demanding his mom. He looks totally over fifty, like old and stuff, but he sounded really young. Mrs. Cantrell asked him his age.”

“And?”

“He claimed to be nine so she asked him what the year was. He got real confused and blurted out that it was nineteen sixty-six.”

“Holy shit.” I shivered. I had a horrible suspicion about what had happened to the guy.

“He had a panic fit and they had to restrain him; they even gave him a shot of something to knock him out. Mrs. Cantrell was really disturbed, I could tell that much, but she wouldn’t explain why.”

“I think he was Tsáyidiel’s avatar host.”

“Tsáyi-what?”

“The gryphon. That’s his true name. He was under a…a really nasty compulsion. I think Billy is an avatar mutant, likely a high level one. And Tsáyidiel was bound to him, so that he could manifest through Billy’s powers.”

She thought about it for a moment, and looked sick. “Wait, that would mean…”

“Yeah,” I said. “Billy’s mind, if not his whole soul, has probably been completely suppressed for forty plus years.”

“That’s fucked up.”

I couldn’t even imagine how much help Billy was going to need. He’d lost over more than three quarters of his life, and now was in a time extremely different from what he’d known. Hopefully the school could find his family, even if his parents were probably retirees by now. I was pretty sure that he and Tsáyidiel weren’t bonded anymore as that connection severed before the light crashed full strength into the gryphon’s pattern. Good thing too. I’m not sure a human’s spirit could have survived that kind of power.

“Oh!” Jenna said. “I didn’t tell you the rest about those MCO assholes.”

“Are they in custody? And how do you know they were MCO?”

“They were in uniforms. And that’s just it, me and Brendan fought and chased them through the forest, right? We gave them a good beat-down and finally knocked them out of commission. But when the Lieutenant arrived with the armored security squad and went to pick them up? With eyes closed and their bodies slack, they all laughed with this same really disturbing laugh. And they died, all three of them. They fought as if super-powered too, we…if we hadn’t fought like we did…” Jenna let go of me to cross her arms, hugging herself instead.

“With enchanted weapons, it’s a miracle you both survived. What were you thinking running at them like that?”

“We were…look, I can’t explain it, okay? We needed to take them down.” Jenna watched me for a long moment, studying my face. “Jordan, just what the hell is after Danielle and why? Do you know?”

“It’s a long story. And there is way too much for which I haven’t a single clue.” I was about to say more, but the door opened. Natalie came in, and I panicked. If they had sent Natalie, oh no…no…

Jenna took my hand and squeezed it, hard.

Natalie, looking a bit frazzled herself, simply said, “She’s alive. Unconscious, but alive. The surgeon expects her to recover.”

I choked out a sob and they both held me while the tears fell again, this time with overwhelming relief.

~o~O~o~

Natalie had already called Isaiah, and miraculously he’d answered. He was taking a red-eye flight and due to arrive in the morning. I wasn’t looking forward to having to explain to him how we had foolishly left the security of the campus, and how we’d severely underestimated how easily our enemies could find us if we did. Natalie had mentioned they were looking into how the attackers knew where we’d be, but so far the guess was something magical. Great.

They let me visit Danielle. I spent the next couple hours kneeling at her bedside holding her hand while listening to the heart monitor steadily beep. Once again, another hospital room, and another bedside for someone I loved so dearly it hurt.

Jenna insisted on sitting in a chair nearby where she’d pick up a tablet, poke at it, and put it down again. I knew she still had questions, but I really didn’t feel up to talking. She was kind enough to respect that.

The doctors had said Danielle should recover and be fine, especially as her regeneration had been picking up speed ever since they were able to flush the poison from the bullet out of her system. They said she should wake up by morning.

It all sounded reassuring, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still wrong.

After awhile voices rose in the hallway, and as I slowly paid attention they resolved into Rabbi Kirov arguing with Circe.

“…but we know something of incredible power happened out there, and we need to find out what!”

“Patience, rabbi. Jordan will talk to you soon enough. I felt it too, naturally, but for now this is where she needs to be.”

“The echos reached colleagues in Israel. They report that their contacts with Above have all fallen silent. It is very worrisome!”

“Is Jordan or the school in any danger tonight from the repercussions?”

“I…I don’t know. But the MCO’s involvement-”

“They have no authority to intervene on school grounds, at least not without cooperation from the DPA. And the DPA Director has advised to sit tight.”

I sighed. I really didn’t want to talk about any of it, but if there was a chance of a further threat they needed to know. I got up, earning a weird look from Jenna who had obviously been listening in on the hallway conversation too.

“Watch over her, will you?” I said.

“You got it.” Jenna nodded, scooting her chair closer to the bed.

Stepping out into the hallway interrupted whatever Kirov had been about to say. Instead both him and Circe turned to me.

Despite the exhaustion, I forced myself to speak. “You want to know, so I’ll give a summary.”

The rabbi’s expression went quickly from anticipation to concern after taking in how I looked. “If you’re too tired…”

Holding up a hand I said, “Just listen, okay?”

He nodded while Circe gave me her complete focus and attention. Yeah, that wasn’t unnerving or anything.

I told them everything I could remember: the airborne fight with Tsáyidiel, Danielle wanting to free him, and Raphael saying it couldn’t be done and to kill him before Azazel took him.

And I described the light taking over and freeing him anyway.

Kirov’s mouth hung open, he was at a complete loss for words. Circe, however, narrowed her eyes. “Azazel.”

I nodded. “Yeah. That’s the name of his master, Raphael said so. Not like I know who that is, though.”

The rabbi recovered enough wits to speak. “A fallen Grigori, one of their leaders according to lore.”

I thought back to the dream of Gabriel discussing these Watchers as she’d called them. Nervous butterflies tried to fly in the stomach but sank like lead instead. “Well, that’s the asshole who wants Danielle to die while I watch. And who ordered Tsáyidiel to kill me before.”

Circe said to Kirov, “Go make use of your connections. Find out all you can about this fallen angel. Also inform the DPA, though I advise going through your brother to have a properly secure connection with which to talk to the Director. If you have friends in the Christian communities or other Abrahamic scholars, talk to them as well. They may have insights from their perspectives that we lack. Do it discreetly.”

He nodded with a face drawn and serious. “That I shall do. Jordan, you should rest - and likely should eat. Regain strength.” He turned to go, but then stopped and looked back. “And Jordan?”

“Yeah?”

“Raphael was correct. An angel lost from God cannot be recovered. As far as I understand, it is impossible and has never been done.”

“Then what the hell did I just do?”

He was both concerned and awed. “Perhaps a true miracle. And we had best find out.” With a nod to Circe, he hurried down the hall.

Circe put a hand on my shoulder. “You really should try to eat. So should your friend in there.”

“I can’t leave Danielle. I just…I can’t.”

“What if I stayed with her until you returned? Should anything change, I can have you paged at the cafeteria. I’m going to presume you lost your phone in the fight that destroyed your other clothes.”

Shit. She was right - my phone had been in a front pocket. I hadn’t even thought of that. “Until I get back? You’ll sit with her?”

“I will.”

Slowly I nodded, realizing that yeah, my stomach was really empty - the sinking butterflies didn’t count. Come to think of it, Jenna was also probably starving beyond belief.

She was, and so we went. Jenna didn’t even want to stop by Hawthorne and get one of her other wigs, saying that after the day’s events any snot-nosed punks that tried to make fun of her baldness could, in her words, go suck eggs.

~o~O~o~

The Crystal Hall was in the middle of dinner rush and packed to the brim with students.

Not feeling adventurous, I just slapped a couple slices of pizza onto a plate and grabbed an iced tea. Jenna must have felt similarly, as she piled a few cheeseburgers onto hers and called it good.

The whole cafeteria was abuzz with kids talking about what had happened. The tale had obviously grown in the repeated tellings: Tsáyidiel was described as having been as large as a house and instead of three MCO agents it was now a full squad of ten, no twenty. With devisor tech rifles no less.

As we passed some of the freshmen tables, however, one male voice spoke louder than his classmates.

“Too bad the MCO was too incompetent to get the job done, ain’t it.”

Magnus. The jerk who had accosted Danielle her first day here.

“ ‘A’ for effort, but ‘F’ for results,” he continued snidely.

Reaching an open table, I carefully put down my tray. “Watch my food, please,” I said to Jenna, and before she could try and stop me I walked back over to Magnus. I tapped him on a shoulder.

“Care to say that crap again?” I asked him, my tone strangely calm.

His buddies, those that weren’t too busy ogling me, quieted. But Magnus turned and stood up.

Huh, we were the same height.

“You one of those sidhe loving idiots or something?” he asked with a sneer.

In a tone somewhere below freezing I said, “I only know one sidhe, and yes, I care for her more deeply than you will likely ever understand. My question to you is, are you just a bigoted moronic child who can’t help but parrot the garbage he was raised with, or do you have even the slightest possibility of growing out of it and becoming a worthwhile person?”

“Are you calling my gran garbage?” His face twitched with rising anger.

“If she taught you to prejudge everyone with a disgusting bias then yes, I suppose I am.”

“You bitch!” The air around me on all sides solidified into glassy barriers of force as he activated his powers. He even put a top on the box. “I’ll crush you!”

The translucent walls he created tried to compact the space with me still between them.

Thing was, they were just made of energy which flowed outward from his aura. Barely anchored energy at that. Holding up a single finger, a pulse ripped at the pattern of light underlying his magic and focused it all instead to that fingertip.

The entire hand burst into white flame, and I drove the point directly towards his forehead with a blur of speed as if meaning to burn through his skull and set the lack of brain on fire.

But I didn’t. The fingernail stopped millimeters above the skin right between his wide eyes, while the rush of air generated by the swiftness blasted into his face and through his hair with a small sonic boom.

He was too stunned at the speed to raise his hands or try anything.

“Hear me carefully, Magnus,” I said, holding that burning finger ever closer to his forehead. “The sidhe you accused the other week as being one who would enslave the human race begged me, earlier this very day, to free a slave who had only moments before driven claws through both her shoulders and tried to kill her.”

Magnus swallowed, his face pale with fear of the white flame before him and of the crazy equally flaming-eyed girl holding it.

“Ask yourself,” I continued, “whether your hate will help your cause or if it is more likely to poison her pure heart towards you and all the other humans, and thereby become the source of a self-fulfilling prophecy and cycle of pain.”

“What…what are you?” he stammered. He tried to raise his shield-wall again, but that only caused the finger to grow brighter.

“Were you raised a Christian?” I asked, ignoring his attempt to use his power.

“Y…yes…”

“Then consider me a messenger from the Lord with a warning for your soul. And do not test my patience any further.”

I slowly pulled back and, with eyes locked on his, blew out the dancing flames before stepping calmly away past the astonished faces of the other students.

As I sat down back where Jenna was waiting, she casually pointed at my pizza. “It’s getting cold.”

We ate.

It took a few minutes of silent chewing for it to hit me. I had no idea how I had just done what I did. It was all reaction without thinking and just, well, doing it. Like being in a dream, with that weird intuitive knowledge you get where you just do and say stuff automatically because you’re following the dream logic and story.

That feeling still remained. The solidity of the world had gone, like the illusion had been pierced and I should wake up any moment. But where would I awaken to?

Breaking through the mystical limiter that had given boundaries to the energy had changed me, and more than just the gain of those fiery wings. And clearly from the conversation with Magnus, the subconscious no longer considered me to be one of the humans along with him and everyone else.

Deep down, it knew different.

Even Jenna, who normally would be trying to cheer me up or something, sat there quietly eating hamburger while lost in her own thoughts. She hadn’t tried to stop me from confronting Magnus. What had she really seen or felt by the lake? Was she afraid of me now?

She caught my stare and put down her burger. “You okay?” she asked, looking at me warily.

“I don’t know. You?”

She hesitated, as if debating on what to say. “I’ve never been in a real fight before. Not like this.”

Oh. How stupid can I be? Her fight with the MCO thugs…“Sounded scary, but you did real well.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” she said, pushing tomato back under a bun to prevent its escape. “When they started shooting and that bullet bounced off? I just charged in, as if I was invincible. It was like I was high on adrenalin or…”

“Or overdosed with power. Thanks to me.”

She slowly nodded. “Yeah. Totally unreal. Like a crazy video game.”

“Still feels that way.”

“You in shock? I’ve heard that can happen. I mean, we only caught the edge of that font. You were at the center. You really…” She hesitated. “You really are something different, aren’t you?”

I winced.

“A real angel,” she continued. “And not just as a spirit, you know, with a human body.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I don’t think I can deny it anymore.”

“Plus something out there is hunting you. And those close to you.”

Staring down at the slice of pizza in my hand all I could do is nod. “Something old and terrible. Evil. And I barely know anything about it.”

“That’s messed up.”

The slice fell back onto the plate. “It…it’d be safer to-”

She cut me off. “If you even think of saying it’d be best to not be your friend, you should shut the fuck up right now.”

Startled, I stared up at her. Her eyes had hardened. “But-”

“No. Being hunted or chased by big and nasty things or organizations is like a damned tradition at this school. Heck, most of us obvious mutants get hunted in general anyway. So this enemy of yours doesn’t make you special. Okay, sure, it sounds all darkly powerful and shit, but you know what? You’re going to win. And we’re going to help you, however we can.”

I didn’t know what to say, and she kept talking.

“I’ve never been one to really believe in God, or any of that stuff. Especially after…after losing my brother. I mean, sure, I knew spirits and magic were real, but since you got here you’ve saved Evie, saved Tamara, and today you saved Danielle and fought off a monster. And when that blast wave hit us? It didn’t feel like magic.”

She shook her head. “It was something different. Something holy. I can’t explain in words properly, but there it is. We must be meant to help you. It gave me the power today to do so, and it felt like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I tried to shift my skin in private in the restroom at Doyle, and it’s back to being the usual grey stone. I’m not bulletproof, not to long arms fire like that. But today I was, because of the divine. Because of you.”

“Because of me, you could have been killed!” I protested. “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you!”

“I know. We all know you would do anything to keep us safe. So let us try and do the same for you.”

“Us?”

“Me, Brendan, and I’m sure if you asked, Evie, Leland, Zap, and Tamara all would say the same.”

“I…” Words died in my throat. Yep. Overwhelmed, that was me.

She managed a tired grin. “Just shut up, eat your pizza, and let’s get back to check on Danielle.”

I obediently shoved pepperoni and cheese past my teeth. But after a couple bites, something popped into my thoughts and I had to ask.

“Hey, Jenna?”

“Yeah?”

“Was it a green or red flag today?”

She paused, looked up at the color displayed over the cafeteria doors, then snorted a giggle. “Seriously?”

“Don’t want to get more detention, Mrs. Cantrel will run out of things for me to clean!”

That earned an even louder guffaw of laughter. I joined in.

~o~O~o~

We remained punch-drunk from the day’s events during the rest of our dinner and all the way back to Doyle. Whenever we’d fall quiet one of us would just go ‘flag!’ and kick off more giggles.

The mirth, however, fell away when we got back to Danielle’s room.

Circe was there as before, but now Louis and another man I didn’t know also stood next to Danielle’s bed. The newcomer had on a western-style leather vest, jeans, boots, and even some turquoise beads around his neck. Weirdly I could sense a powerful spirit either within him, or lurking nearby. It was an odd sensation and knowledge.

All three were way too somber for the gathering to be anything good. The air was thick with deep concern and worry.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, pushing myself past them so I could see Danielle, leaving Jenna in the hallway. Danielle was still on the bed, still breathing, and the heart monitor beeped normally.

It was Louis who answered. “Physically, nothing - and that is the concern. Jordan, can you see her spirit?”

Her spirit? I frowned, focusing to open myself to the other side of things. Immediately the room shifted and now there were four people in it. Circe was like a solid green flow of magic, Louis was clearly his projected self with the tether-line flowing up and out of the room towards Hawthorne, the new guy had a pattern that felt like a calm spring bubbling in pristine woods, and the fourth was an older native man hovering behind the new guy all dressed in traditional leathers decorated with beads and feathers, with a worn face to match.

Danielle, though, was missing. Her spirit was just…gone.

“No!” Knees failed, the guy in the vest caught my elbows and gently lowered me to her bedside.

“Her spirit is traveling,” he said. “But to where, we do not know.”

“Charlie,” Circe said. “Can you trace it?”

The man shook his head. “If there is an astral cord, we cannot see it. I can ask the spirits to search for her, perhaps they could find her depending on where she has gone.”

From what the rabbi and Louis had told me about astral projections, I knew that losing the connection between spirit and the body was really bad. “How long can she live like this? How long does she have?” I demanded.

Sad faces all looked at me, and Charlie answered. “A few days, perhaps weeks. Without a solid cord, the body will eventually give up. Though her natural regeneration could lengthen that time-frame, it’s hard to say.”

“How likely is it your spirits can find her?” He hadn’t sounded confident.

“Like I said, it depends. They can search the realms they know and travel. But not beyond.”

I felt cold. “That doesn’t sound reliable.”

“It’s the best I can do,” he said quietly.

Dammit, what good was it being an angel if I couldn’t protect one soul? Or even notice when Danielle’s got knocked free? Problem was, I hadn’t known to look and even if I could potentially go after it, I had no idea how to do that either.

Wait. I didn’t, but maybe - just maybe - I knew someone who did.

“Circe,” I said more forcefully than I probably should have. “I need your help.”

Eyes older than civilizations calmly regarded me. “How so?”

“I’m unsure of my control or even limitations after today. Come with me to my room, if you could, and stand ready to trigger your failsafe in case it’s…necessary.”

“What are your intentions, Jordan?” she asked curiously.

“I need to call out to someone who, if I’m right, should be able to find her no matter what spirit realm or place she’s gotten lost in. I don’t know how much power I’ll unleash if I do this and right now I don’t trust myself. I’m trying to play it safe.”

She considered for a moment, then nodded. “A summoning. Let me stop by my office and pick up a couple items and I’ll meet you at your room.”

I stood and leaned over the bed to kiss Danielle’s forehead. “Hang in there, sweetie,” I whispered. “I’m going to send help.”

Straightening, I looked at Charlie - and realized he must be Charlie Lodgeman, the same one who had tried to help Zap when Zap first shifted and got stuck as a hawk.

I said to him, “I don’t know much about such things, but I have read stories about it being dangerous for a body to be without its soul for too long. Making it vulnerable to evil spirits, demons, stuff like that. If that’s true, is there anything you can do to ward this room and keep her protected?”

He smiled gently, but the creases besides the eyes showed a deep weariness. He’d seen too many kids in these kinds of conditions, and the toll lay heavy upon him. “I was going to suggest it. Yes, I’ll stay here and do all I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything I can do?” Louis asked.

I shook my head. “If you can’t trace where to start looking for her spirit, then maybe go bug Natalie or whomever is trying to help Billy. He’s going to need all the love and understanding he can get - and make sure he’s protected both physically and spiritually. He was probably kidnapped and used for his high avatar ability and is wide open again.”

“I’ll check in.”

With one more gaze at my unconscious niece, I stepped from the room. Jenna, still at the doorway, backed up to let me exit. She wiped away the tears on her face and looked at me determinedly.

“You’re under my protection again. Where you go, I go.”

This time I knew better than to argue. I gave her a quick hug. “Okay.”

We headed towards Hawthorne’s attic and the triple circle that waited there. I really hoped I knew what the hell I was doing.

Truth was, I hadn’t much of a clue. But I was going to do it anyway.

~o~O~o~

When Circe arrived she asked Jenna to stand outside the attic room’s door and make sure we were undisturbed. Jenna reluctantly agreed though she was clearly not happy about it.

I had given Khan some attention. The poor little guy had really made a mess of the inside of the door, he’d left deep grooves. I checked his paws to make sure no claws had broken off, fortunately they were all intact. For his part, he kept wanting to bonk foreheads with me - at least until I put the fresh food down for him. He had his priorities, though he did pause to give me a look until I told him it was okay and he should eat. He tucked in.

Circe had been busily preparing a separate part of the floor for herself. With chalk and a small amount of her own blood she marked a new circle in a corner and inscribed a pentacle within it.

“I’ll stand here. Do you have a technique you are going to try?” she asked.

The king-size bed was still shoved to the side out of the triple circle from the day’s earlier practice sessions. “Not really, figured I’d power up, try to reach across - maybe to the space I keep going to in my dreams - and then shout until he answers.”

“Raphael?”

I shook my head. “No, not him. I think earlier today scared him off.”

Her brow lifted in surprise. “An archangel scared? You didn’t mention this to the rabbi.”

“Nope. Haven’t decided whether I want to yet or not. I like Kirov, but if he gets too excited? I’m not certain he won’t let something slip to a colleague and start a religious mess. Attention like that is the last thing I need right now. Which is why I didn’t invite him to this - even if contacting angels is more likely his area of expertise. Honestly, if he were to overhear any of this he might soil his pants.”

“I agree. And I appreciate the gesture of trust you’re extending me.” She nodded with approval and stepped inside her newly protected area. “I am ready. Good luck.” Khan took a seat on the floor at her side, just outside the markings. He watched me expectantly, as if he knew I was about to do something and he too would be ready just in case.

I pulled off the t-shirt, still wearing the purple bikini top underneath. I didn’t want the borrowed shirt to get ruined with what I was about to do.

After a moment’s hesitation, I stepped into the center of the circles: three rings surrounding a six-pointed star with each ring inscribed in very different styles of symbols and languages. This time I could feel the change from crossing their boundaries. It was like I became mostly cut off from the world beyond the lines. The middle circle had originally been designed to just anchor and hold me, but after making a mess of my dreamtime it had been modified to let awareness slip back and forth.

The outer circle, of course, was Circe’s failsafe to launch the inner contents beyond all the worlds if the energy levels became dangerous to the school. Or the planet.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. Every time I had powered up before I had to deliberately open up, pulling the brilliant energy into that spiritual well. This time was different. I realized that since powering down at the hospital I’d been unconsciously putting effort into seeming human, my own will restricting the flow to maintain the appearance of being nothing more than a sixteen year old girl. But I wasn’t human. And as much as that scared me something awful, I embraced the idea because right now I had to.

Danielle needed my help.

The restrictions both in my mind and my spirit fell away and wings spread instantly out behind, feathers and skin filling the room with that brilliant effervescent glow.

It felt natural. It felt right.

Waking up in the hospital that first day with an exemplar body and its lack of aches and pains and ease of breathing had been a similar experience, only this was so much more. I just was, and it was glorious.

I could have spent hours reveling in the sheer sensation of it, but there was work to do.

For over a month my dreams had drifted to those cliffs overlooking an ocean. In the sky above were usually clouds that occasionally carried a floating city. The path to that place had been taken whether I willed it or not, but now I reached for it deliberately while awake and still standing in the physical world.

I pictured that scene lying behind the balcony doors, and in that vision I stepped forward to open them wide and let that ocean breeze flow into the room. As feet passed the second circle there was a tug of resistance, but a quick determined push carried them past. Moving both in the physical and spiritual realms, the distinction had washed away.

Standing in the open double doorway I called outward into the bright yet sunless sky beyond.

“Tsáyidiel! If you can hear, I bid you come!”

As soon as I said his name I could feel him, like a warm cozy blanket that takes away a wintry evening’s chill. He was coming, and coming fast. I took a couple steps back inside as a large black raven swooped down to the floor just inside the doors.

Upon landing it was no longer a raven. On one knee was an angel, raven wings cascading upon his back to match feathers woven into long dark hair. His hands - correction, his dark furred paws - were placed on the ground as he bowed low.

“My Lady calls, and I answer.”

I felt the acknowledgment as a shiver through my spirit. “Are you…alright? Are you free from darkness?”

He raised a beautiful face of flawless skin and eyes deeper than the night. I couldn’t help it, I gently touched that face, aching for merging my energy with his. He was mine somehow, and I was his.

From that touch, he didn’t shrink away. If anything he trembled in ecstasy.

I took a half-step back, disturbed by the strength of that connection between us.

“My freedom lies in serving the Light,” he said as tears welled in the corners of his eyes. “But I am unworthy, my Lady, and this dream is impossible. You are right to recoil from one such as I.”

“No!” Impulsively I pulled that gorgeous face against my chest, wrapping glowing wings around him. “No. I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” He was terrified, absolutely terrified, to believe in what had happened and his pain and fears surged through me. I couldn’t stand it!

He wept as I held him, paws folding around the small of my back, clinging to me fiercely. “It is too much, for this is not possible. Because I failed! I failed, and I fell, and I let the abyss claim and abuse me - and through me perform horrors. My Lady, I do not deserve this miracle!”

The reason for the connection between his heart and mine burned again in my perceptions, for a heart’s promise lay within him still and continued to be the source of the light shining through his reforged name. It was my promise that fueled him and kept him whole.

I pressed a cheek into the soft feathers woven through his hair. “Tsáyidiel, you have to believe. And if you failed in the past, remember the experience and don’t repeat the mistake!”

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, still trembling. “We Malakhim, if we fail from inner weakness we can never be used again. For it was proven we were flawed, the name shown to be weak. A member of the Host must be impeccable, our tasks are too important to be risked and given to a failed instrument. So it is commanded.”

“Then listen to me, Tsáyidiel. Because if you were flawed before, you now must learn from it and grow stronger. I’ve known many flawed people. The ones who are worthy recognize their weaknesses and strive to work past them, to heal the cracks so they become stronger than ever they were before.”

“It cannot be done.”

“If it cannot be done, then why has the Light chosen you? Why has it used me to restore your name? Because I have a need for you, a task that only you can perform before it is too late.”

“My Lady, I…I do not know the answers. I know only of failure.”

Words flowed unbidden off my tongue. “Give yourself over to faith, beloved Kerubim. And find the start of your redemption in the completion of this need.” The words were more than advice. They were a command.

His trembling quieted and new resolve grew in response, causing that name to burn stronger still. “Give me your task, my Lady. I pledge myself to you and its success, unworthy as I am. For you have given me that which I never dared dream possible, and even the merest taste of it is worth more than my whole existence. Please, tell me, what is this sacred task?”

“You are God’s Hunter. Find my niece’s soul: Danielle Thorne, recently manifested as one of the sidhe. Her body lies in the medical facility here at this campus, but her spirit is missing. Find her spirit and bring it safely back. I will help in any way that I can, just tell me how.”

Those dark eyes flared with renewed purpose. “She is your family, and thus is she also mine. I can see the ties that bind us, and they will lead me to her. But I give warning that the flow of time between realms ebbs and shifts according to its own schedule. Please do not mistake any perceived delay in my return as a lack of haste in my efforts! No matter where in the planes of existence she is hidden, she shall be found as swiftly as these wings may fly.”

He stood and bowed deeply to me with a courtly sweep of an arm. “With your permission, I shall not delay.”

“It is given. Go hunt, and may the light be with you.”

“Through your grace, my Lady, it has been restored to me!”

Turning towards the ocean bluffs existing beyond the doors, he took three steps before spreading those wings as if to cover that bright sky with a feathery night and took to the air.

He shimmered before disappearing as he slipped between the realms. But if I focused, his heart could still be felt as if it were next to my own.

Closing the doors, I walked back within the three circles and, with a last glance at the ocean view, clamped down on the energies. Wings disappeared and I collapsed to the floor, shaking from the sudden nausea and fear that swept through me.

Circe knelt down nearby and offered a trash can. “Here.”

Taking it gratefully, I threw up. Still twitching, I managed to whimper, “Good grief, who the hell am I? Was that really me just now?”

The ageless sorceress frowned, worry lines clear upon her face. “That is an excellent question. But a phrase from my youth comes to mind: Tò peproménon phygeîn adýnaton. It is impossible…”

“…to escape from what is destined,” I completed without thinking. “Great, just great.”

She looked at me oddly. “You speak Greek?”

“Of course not,” I replied before realizing what I had just done.

The world spun as all blood fled my face, said face needing to be shoved back into the trash can due to the stomach’s continued decision that insanity and pizza should not mix.

Circe kindly held my hair out of the way.

Chapter 7 - Traps

He awoke in darkness.

Confusion assaulted senses, pain of sufficient alarming intensity breaking through what obviously was a medicated haze. Eyes open, but no light, and no sound.

Rolling clouds of dark and grey, crashing thunder under a water-deluged sky. Hovering above a grassy plain, watching as a tidal wave hundreds of feet high swept away all that dared stand before it. Voices screaming, crying out for help or forgiveness as the waters plowed them under, and knowing there was still time to save those he very much needed to save…

A sword of blazing crimson fire held point first against his neck prevented swooping down to those desperately wailing, forcing him to abandon those hoping against hope that the numerous winged figures framed by lightning in the rain above might lift them to safety.

No, that was just a dream, clinging to consciousness after waking up. Roll it back a bit further. There had been an explosion followed by pain.

Ah, progress. Keep going then.

Running, he had been running. Makes sense, but from what?

The underground vault. Running up the hidden staircase, cursing with each step.

Traps. Magical ones, cunning and complicated, with the second set proving much more difficult than the first had been.

Oh. He had screwed up. Miscalculated and triggered a backlash. The resulting blast launched him from the top of the stairwell and through a couple walls, protective spells on his trusty coat had done their best to keep him alive. But the force had still knocked his overconfident and foolish ass right out, leaving bruises on ego and body.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wright. I’d suggest trying not to move much as you have had a rough couple days.”

The voice - female, adult - perhaps late forties? Older? The accent was odd, British but not from England. Former colony perhaps. It came from off to the right and a distant echo indicated wherever he was, it was in a large open space.

Not a proper hospital room then, despite the IV needle shoved into the back of a hand.

She spoke again. “While I’m sure you would prefer to rest and recuperate, we have need to talk. Sadly, this is not how the approach is usually done, what with the smuggling you out of the hospital and such. But we believed you to be in danger which required us to move fast.”

“Danger?” His own voice croaked, throat parched and dry.

She ignored the question. “Do you know what is truly frustrating about holy men? They reach momentary enlightened states, gain access to higher levels and perceive things not meant for mankind. And then they proceed to scribble it all down on paper, even though they are quite literally incapable of ever reading, let alone understanding, a single thing they write. Then they leave these legacies of dangerous knowledge behind to their successors, akin to handing a bucket of live grenades to curious children. I’m sure you know of what I speak.”

“The Codex.” He flexed arms and legs slowly, discovering to his surprise that he wasn’t secured to the bed. Interesting.

“Yes, exactly. The Codex’s missing pages and other works like it. We know you were tracing the ancient language, the one mankind is not meant to read.”

“I thought I’d been discreet.” He coughed, the resulting pain providing a detailed map of the worst bruises over his back.

“I’ll be honest,” she said. “We were truly lucky in finding out about your efforts . And you yourself were equally lucky that we did, or else you would be dead by now if not worse.”

“Really.”

“I’m afraid so. There are many interested parties in such works, some less savory than others. We knew there were things hidden underneath the synagogue, things too difficult to transport safely during the riots in the forties and thus entrusted to the protective workings you endeavored to undo. Unfortunately, the men who had personally seen and knew what was down there died in the unpleasantness during the war in Europe. But if we are correct, at least one item buried and protected therein is a danger to you. And to me. Thus, you see, my concern.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You obviously did not have anything on you when we removed you from the hospital, but you had been working down there for many days. There was more than one magically sealed compartment, so I must ask which one did you trigger? And if you opened any of the others, where are their contents now? Your life, my life, and the lives of quite a few others may depend upon your answer.”

“Lady, you’ve admitted to kidnapping me. At the moment I’m also clearly drugged, so why would I trust and tell you anything? You haven’t even told me your name.”

“Because whether you believe me or not, we should be on the same side. And at the moment events are barreling forwards in ways no one could have predicted even as of last week. If we are to survive what is coming, we will need to work together.”

“Sounds like a bunch of horseshit, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

“It isn’t. Sadly, you still have not remembered anything. And we may not have the luxury of time to wait for you to do so.”

Remember? He thought through the events of the past week again. Vault one had been complex, but by virtue of Soren’s exhaustive mental training, he’d been able to map it out. A handful of pages were recovered, gibberish to him but he hadn’t had time to study them carefully. Their letters and symbols kept shifting on the page making such study tricky.

The second vault, though, was protected by wardings at least ten times as complicated. Whatever it contained was the true treasure of the site, of that he was sure. The third had appeared empty, but he hadn’t spent the effort trying to confirm the lack of another security illusion. The second was too tempting a focus.

All told, his memory seemed pretty good to him.

“I only worked on one alcove,” he lied. “Thought I had it figured out, but I was wrong. Way wrong. Hence…kaboom.”

“Is it still secure? Or was it a one-time protection?”

He chuckled and winced from the motion. “Why don’t you dig through the rubble and look for yourself?”

“Syrian security forces have the site contained. Someone with pockets deeper than ours is already there.”

“In that case, keep away from it. I can think of only one guy who might be able to get that damn thing open. The trap replenishes itself instantly, if my calculations are correct.”

As much as he didn’t want to give out information that much should be harmless. They’d either have figured it out by killing themselves, or not. Better to seem cooperative, if even just a little bit.

“One man? Who?”

“The inscrutable Callas Soren. Good luck getting him to help, unless you want to owe him one humdinger of a favor.”

“Soren.” She paused in consideration. “I recognize the name, but never have had the pleasure.”

Good. Then they probably didn’t know it was Soren’s work in Los Angeles that led him to the Middle East and this mess. Keeping it that way seemed like a decent idea. “Sorry, I no longer have his phone number. I lost it in a poker game; never try to cheat at cards against someone with precognition. So what now?”

“You should rest. Food will be brought shortly and I may have more questions, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Relax, Mr. Wright. If you stay right there for just a short while longer, I believe you stand to gain the answers to a number of your own mysteries.”

“Well, isn’t that a cryptic statement.”

“I suppose it is. Patience, Nicolas. Patience.” She must have been standing nearby, as he could hear footsteps walking away. Likely high heels, too. The sound of a heavy door opening, then clunk. Closed.

Not even a single glimpse of light had flickered from the door.

He waited in the absolute darkness counting out the minutes by mentally singing a pair of Eagle’s songs to mark the time. Witchy Woman and Already Gone. There had been no further sounds throughout so he decided that was enough. Time to see where he was being held and get the heck out.

Without sitting up he reached out with both hands. The skin still felt tight after healing the burns they’d received from catching the white fire of Soren’s ritual - the same flames that had consumed and then restored Jordan. The magical healer he had visited in Jerusalem could only do so much for this kind of damage, but he was grateful for what they’d accomplished. Flexing the fingers, he mentally aligned the tattoos which had survived on the palms and brought them together.

“Illuminatum!”

The spell, instead of emitting a soft steady glow as he’d intended, flared brightly like a camera with the flash stuck on. Feedback from the spell scorched still-healing hands to send pain cascading down nerves towards his waiting brain.

As the nerve-fire overcame his senses, he caught a glimpse of his surroundings: a warehouse-like room, at least two stories tall, with every surface covered in hundreds of circles and sigils. His own magic had just been used against him, triggering a connection with a working that must have taken months to get right.

A mocha-skinned woman in a simple long black skirt and creme-colored blouse stood over him. There had to have been two people in the room, both female and only one had exited - duping him into thinking he’d been left alone. The other had remained behind in perfect silence.

With a mind screaming with the pain from the backlash of the surrounding spell, his vision latched on to a silver pendant hanging around her neck. Dangling there was a strange sigil he did not recognize yet felt like he should know. It grew larger and larger and he fell into it, but as he did he heard the woman sigh tiredly.

“You always were a stubborn one, Barakiel. Sweet dreams.”

A crash of distant thunder pulled him under.

Light's Promise (Part 3 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 8 - Memories

Once the stomach agreed to at least a temporary truce, I’d gone back to the hospital to sit with Danielle. Now that I knew her spirit wasn’t there all I could sense was the hollow absence. Her body lay in the bed, heart pumping and lungs moving, but it was empty like a still life painting where the fruit bowl’s contents had been cruelly ripped from the canvas. What was left was only a blank outline of where Danielle’s spirit should have been.

It was wrong. So very wrong.

Charlie had set up funky looking wards all over the walls, floor, and ceiling. He’d scattered mandalas and dreamcatchers about and placed stones on the counters, windowsill, even on top of the fluids drip. There had been a weird resistance when I crossed the threshold, but whatever he had done must have decided I was safe enough and eased off.

Jenna sat with me while nervously fiddling with a small gold cross dangling around her neck. She must have put it on back in her room when changing clothes earlier. I’d never seen her wear it before. She’d insisted on keeping me company and had been pretending to read a book for English class in between glances every few minutes to see if I was okay. Which, to be honest, was not the case below the forced appearance of calm.

After all, let’s sum up:

Danielle was in a coma with her spirit lost in the never-never somewhere.

The truth was undeniable that I was no longer human by any stretch of the imagination, with seriously frightening powers sitting like a sickly-sweet cherry on top.

Tsáyidiel had been a fallen angel and was now not only restored but mystically bound to me. How the heck had I done that? Had that been God working through me? I had no idea how to tell the difference. Tsáyidiel might know but he, of course, was no longer around to ask.

Oh, and adding to the list was Natalie’s report on her conversation with the DPA about Nick. The last information they had on him was that he had been checked unconscious into a hospital in Aleppo but had disappeared later that night. They were busily trying to figure out whether he had slipped off by himself or if someone had taken him. What they could actually do about either scenario sounded extremely limited.

Yeah, I was not okay. Not at all.

That emptiness within Daniele where her soul should have been kept driving me nuts. “Hey, Jenna?”

“Mmm?” She looked up from the same page she’d been on for the last ten minutes.

“I’m gonna go get a drink from the vending machine downstairs. Want anything?”

“Just downstairs?”

I gave her a look. “Yeah. I don’t need a bodyguard for that.” I stuck my tongue out at her.

She didn’t smile. “I’ll take a Coke. Or a Pepsi if that’s all they have.”

With a sigh, I shuffled out of the room and down the hallway. It was after the seven o’clock shift change and the floor had gone quiet. Most of the rooms were empty in any case, so there wasn’t much for the nurses to be doing. This place was rather strange as a hospital when you thought about it: the building had a capacity far exceeding what a private school should ever hope to need. I had a feeling that their magical and devisor medical capabilities were off the charts. Ha, get it? Medical charts? Oh forget it. I didn’t feel much like laughing either.

Maybe the school took rich outside patients for super-specialized treatments. They could probably make a lot of money that way which would be a great source of scholarship funds.

Brendan had been put in a room halfway down the hall but when I quietly peeked in he was sound asleep. He was hooked to an I.V. line and to a heart monitor that pulsed steady and strong. They had to be giving him some crazy dosages of pain medications just to get an effect, one of the few drawbacks to being an exemplar. I moved on to let the poor guy sleep.

Further down the hall was an occupied room with the light still on and being nosy I snuck a look at whoever was in there. The board outside the door had said, ‘August Rose’, but that was not a name I knew.

A girl was propped up in the bed, busily scribbling in a notebook. Another I.V. ran into one arm and electrodes were stuck to a few places on her forehead leading to a separate device on a second pole by the bed. Its screen was displaying a colorful three dimensional brain that kept cycling through a fixed color palette not unlike old-school screen savers once favored by kids who liked dropping acid. Or so I’ve heard.

She was the girl who had called me ‘Gabriel’ before passing out after I had landed with Danielle outside. The floor must’ve creaked because she startled, looking up right as I recognized her.

“You!” we said in unison.

Eyes went wide behind her glasses while the brain monitor device started flashing hypnotic purples and blues.

“Uh, hi?” I ventured. “Can I come in?”

She nodded, still staring at me with some seriously dilated pupils. But after I stepped fully into the room she blurted, “You’re the angel! Holy shit!”

I cringed. “Yeah, guess I am.”

“That landing was so cool! But where’d the wings go?” She tilted her head, trying to see at my back.

“They, well…I put them away.”

“You can do that? Neat!” The blues shifted to reds and the purples into gold.

“What’s with the brain thing?” I said, pointing at the display.

“Oh that? I’m not really sure, but they wanted to monitor me tonight.”

“You saw us and then passed out. You okay?”

She shrugged. “I was having this horrible headache. Like knives from those commercials where they cut through nails were stabbing my head. Then I saw you land and it was like a bubble burst. The relief was so sharp it knocked me out.”

“Why’d you call me ‘Gabriel’? My name’s Jordan.”

“Hi Jordan, I’m August!” she said cheerily. “And as for that, well I had this trippy dream when I passed out.”

“Dream?”

Nodding, she put down the notebook. “Yeah, was really vivid. Think it started right when I saw you, actually.”

I pulled over the visitor chair to sit on its front edge, leaning forward with interest. “Mind telling me what it was about?”

“Oh sure! The angel Gabriel was showing me around this fantastic city of white marble, gold, and silver. It was huge! And almost too perfect, you know? With these towers stretching way up…” She gestured widely with her arms, the I.V. pole shifting as its line went taut. “You look a lot like how she was in the dream, probably why I said that. But she’s cuter. No offense!”

“Um, none taken?” The time-line didn’t make sense. She’d called out the name before she passed out and had the dream. But I didn’t want to interrupt.

“Anyway, I woke up in the room here all fuzzy headed. They’ve given me some sort of brain drugs that make me feel loopy. The doctor said my brain activity is highly unusual - those are the words he used - and they were concerned. I feel fine now, other than the meds.”

“Well, that’s good to-”

“Oh!” She interrupted. “They blamed you for it too.”

“What? Me?”

Nodding, she spoke quickly. “When I woke up they said there’d been a major magical event outside the school and that it was reverberating everywhere. The doc said you were the cause or at least very involved. They think I was overly sensitive to it and that’s what caused the headache. Then seeing you with wings and everything pushed my imagination into overdrive, and so I dreamed of being with the angel Gabriel. They told me not to worry about it, though they still stuck these things on my head.”

Crap, how loud of an event had it been? And would that happen every time the new wings came out? Argh, I hoped not. Being able to fly might be the only neat thing out of this entire mess. If they sounded some kind of spiritual gong every time I tried to use them, that would suck.

She kept talking. “I also saw some of my symbols in that dream, so I’ve been trying to draw them.”

Pushing aside thoughts of flying and magical radar systems shrieking worldwide, I asked, “Symbols?”

“I’m a magic user. The examiners think I have good potential. When I was little I made up my own symbols, drawing them on everything. Drove mom nuts. And one day they actually started working and affecting stuff! It’s why I’m here at the school. I’m not a mutant, but a ‘baseline magic talent’ according to the tests.”

“Mind if I see?”

She shrugged and handed me the spiraled sketchbook. “I’ve made up ones for the elements and basic spells. You know, like casting light or levitating small objects, that kind of thing.”

Flipping open the notebook, there were sets of wavy lines and scribbles. At first they seemed like random broken lines, arrows, and circular paths drawn on the page - heck they even seemed to shift and change while staring at them. But something clicked.

In a vision overlapping the physical page, each symbol came into intense focus as planar projections of complex multi-dimensional patterns. From that perspective they weren’t broken at all, rather they were representative of distinct and connected motions of energy weaving through the layers of time and space. The nuances weren’t clear, but the general shapes started making sense.

“Fire,” I said, turning the pages one by one. “Cold, wind, shielding…”

She gasped. “You can read them?”

“A little?” Feeling the rug getting yanked out from under my mental feet, I turned to the page she had been working on. A single rather involved symbol dominated the entire sheet of paper.

The image swam off the paper and I dizzily looked away. Meeting her curious eyes accidentally triggered a glimpse of the pattern softly glowing behind them: she was this symbol, or at least her spirit had been long ago. It lay there at her center, dim and forgotten, but not erased.

“Tamiel,” I mumbled. “Your name is Tamiel.”

Her jaw fell. “That’s what Gabriel called me in the dream!” The brain scan machine bleated loudly, sounding some kind of alarm.

I was no longer listening. A large chunk of memory broke free to swarm my awareness, picking it up like a paper airplane sucked into a hurricane and launching it elsewhere.

And else-when.

~o~O~o~

The inside of the thatched-roof hut was small yet cozy. Animal hides of various thicknesses covered both the floor and the seats of the wooden chairs dominating the center of the room. The chairs were embossed with intricate Celtic knot-work humming quietly with enchantments of home and tranquility. Tiny glowing will-o-wisps danced and fluttered about the support beams above, their glittering light blending into a soft pulsing illumination brightening the room.

“It’s been a long time, Fionna,” Gabriel was saying. “I’m saddened to hear of the loss of your parents and brothers. Your mother was a fine queen for your people, and always an exquisite hostess.”

A regal lady of the fae sat before Gabriel, two silver braids framing slender high cheekbones. A thin crystal circlet upon her brow was the only mark of royal status as her robe, while clean, was simple green linen.

“Your words are kind, Lady Gabriel. I must apologize for our inability to host such an honored guest in the style and jubilation as ought to be accorded, but alas - we have fallen upon hard times and in this age we are forced to be more reserved.”

Gabriel smiled sympathetically. “The conflicts and sundering of this world will take a measure of time to heal.”

Beyond the hut lay the village that had drawn the two angels’ attention as they flew over the island resting to the west of the larger continent. Following the lines of power running underneath the world, dim as they may have become, had led Gabriel to this settlement. Ancient standing stones had been erected nearby to mark the site of energetic confluence.

As she had hoped to find, the gathering of peoples here included remnants of the fae: sidhe, brownies, and the myriad of other fae creatures all huddling close to the font which still had power enough to preserve them.

Fionna snorted bitterly. “A measure of time, Lady? To your eternal Host that hovers close to the center of the Wheel of Time, it may not seem like much. But for those of us trapped here it may as well be forever. Our people are dying.”

“Most of the sidhe have departed, heading for other worlds. Why not do the same?”

Silver pupils sparked. “Those with the power to do so have already gone. False royals fleeing with their closest and most skilled retainers, leaving the rest of our folk who could not survive such a crossing behind. As my only surviving elder sibling is oath-bound as a Priestess of Gaia, the burden of Queenship has fallen upon my shoulders. The title of queen in this age is a mockery of what it once was, but I shall not abandon our folk, neither the mightiest warrior of the sidhe nor the smallest bogarts now forced to hide within wells run dry!”

Gabriel raised a hand in apology. “I am sorry, Fionna. We are still learning of the situation that has befallen this world, and we mean no offense. The Grigori were sent to assist, but the reality and the reports we have received are clearly in dispute. Making sense of it all and determining what must be done is why I have sought out the counsel of your fair folk.”

The queen rubbed the space below the delicately forged crown. “Your Watchers have been a mixed bag, archangel. Some have done what they could to assist the inhabitants here and our struggles, while others…” She paused, not wanting to offend her guest.

“While others,” the angel completed, “have consorted with humankind and bred abominations that do not belong on any world. And it took a minor scout’s retrieval of a human witness for us to even hear of these acts. The council is displeased, and the Chorus of the Grigori shall be held accountable.”

“But are they all guilty, Lady Gabriel? Some have only tried to-”

A tall hooded figure being pushed past thick curtains interrupted the fae queen’s words. The source of the shove followed, clad in gold and black armor with blood red-wings sweeping behind.

“I found this one hiding amongst the stones in a stream nearby.” Camael’s eyes burned under the helm covering his face. “Kneel, Grigori,” he said coldly as he forced the taller figure to its knees. “Give proper greetings to the Archangel.”

The figure, trembling hands trying to grasp at the fur-lined flooring, bowed low. Camael yanked back the woolen hood, revealing a face of beauty - both masculine and feminine - which was marred only by tears flowing over smooth skin.

Gabriel was out of her chair, gathering the weeping one into her arms. Wrapping instantly manifested dove-like wings around them, she shouted at the warrior. “That’s enough! Stand down!”

The battle-blooded angel took a step back and crossed his arms.

Hands clutched at Gabriel’s dress, and through a sob was whispered, “Lady Gabriel, I’m…so sorry…”

Sighing deeply, Gabriel looked up at the lady of the fae. “Forgive us, Queen Fionnabhair, but could you give us a few moments in private? We can move elsewhere if need be.”

The queen gazed concernedly at the weeping Grigori. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but a quick glance at the imposing angel by the wall caught the words in her throat instead. Coughing slightly, she rose to her feet. “I shall take my leave then, Archangel,” she said with a touch of frost to her words. “If you should have need, I shall be nearby.” With a nod first to Gabriel followed by a colder one to the warrior, she stepped outside.

The silence lay thick in the room. Even the will-o-wisps above held their breath, their dance motionless.

“Oh Tamiel,” Gabriel said gently as she brushed short dark strands away from the tears on the other angel’s face. “When last I saw you, your hair flowed to your ankles as a river under a starry sky.”

“We…we cut it,” came the quiet reply.

“’We’? You mean you’ve all cut your hair?”

A nod. “It was Sariel’s idea. A symbol of cutting our ties to the Host. He said it was something other exiles had done.”

Gabriel’s open hand shot up, forestalling the warrior who had taken a step closer in rising anger.

“But why, Tamiel?” she asked.

Anguish flooded the other angel’s voice. “We needed to go home, but we were abandoned! For ages, Gabriel…you don’t know what it’s been like!”

A low growl from under the helm caused Gabriel’s eyes to flash hotly with irritation. “Step outside, Camael.”

“My Lady, I am here as your protection.”

“As if you would have let them be armed in my presence. You do your tasks well, now allow me to do mine. That’s an order, Regent.”

With a curt bow, the warrior stepped through the hanging cloths covering the doorway, pulling in his wings so they could clear the narrower exit.

Gabriel shook her head. Rising, she lead Tamiel to the archangel’s former chair. “Sit. Here, have some wine.” Refilling a pewter mug from a pitcher on the floor, she handed it to the Grigori. “Drink, Tamiel, and speak with me.”

Tamiel took a slow sip, wiping the moisture from their face with a sleeve. Gabriel sat cross-legged on the floor before the chair, causing the Grigori’s eyes to widen at the impropriety of their positions.

“I need answers, Tamiel,” Gabriel said quietly yet firmly. “Have you rebelled against the Throne?”

Eyes the grey shade of a fog-covered ocean widened further. “No!”

“Yet you cut your hair.”

A forced swallow. “This…this world is now my home.”

Irritation crept into the archangel’s tone. “And you Watchers threaten it entirely by breeding these Nephelim. Such an act invites this world’s destruction by the Council!”

“Not I!” Tamiel blurted. “I have nothing to do with those…cross-breeds. It’s awful, Gabriel! What they do to create them, it’s-”

“An abomination.”

Tamiel shook their head. “You don’t understand. Only a handful are stable. Out of each hundred that they’ve bred, only one or two survive. The merger of our spirit and human flesh, it wasn’t meant to be.” Tamiel swallowed in repulsion. “They fall apart. Skin and muscle melt into pieces, and they scream - such awful screams. The patterns of their spirits dissolve away, leaving nothing. No afterlife, the human soul spark used in the attempt falls out of reach to the levels closest to the Abyss, tainted forever by the cruelness done to it.”

Gabriel paled as the Grigori continued. “The success rate is better for the stronger of us, especially if the angelic parent maintains the offspring by keeping them coherent with continual force of will. I couldn’t do it. I can’t bear the thought of losing even one! It’s bad enough watching beloved humans grow old and die over and over again - but children of my own? In such a horrid way? No.”

The archangel’s expression hardened. “The testimony of Enoch, the human raised up as witness, spoke of thousands. Thousands, Tamiel! Human sparks merged with angelic patterns. That’s an act of rebellion, plain and simple. Humanity itself may prove to be a threat to all things after they have developed further; even as they are now their free will brings more than enough chaos. Their Judgment will come some future day at the appropriate time. But this? Each Nephelim may possess the free will humanity enjoys, each reaching their own individual connection to the Source and thus able to alter the pattern of creation at deeper levels than mankind shall yet reach for generations beyond counting. Their existence perverts the fabric and the plan. This cannot be allowed.”

“It gets worse,” the Grigori whispered.

“Worse?” Gabriel stared at the other angel. “How can it be worse?”

Closing eyes, Tamiel slumped in the chair. “Azazel and Shemyaza. They’ve made a deal.”

“A deal? With whom? Samael?” Painful memories of the first war flickered disturbingly in Gabriel’s mind.

“No. Rumors are they met with an Archon of the primordial chaos. Azazel has taken the energies from Outside into himself, and used it within the patterns of his offspring.”

Gabriel rocked backwards in dismay. “Blasphemy of blasphemies!”

Tamiel nodded. “They breed an army with which to conquer this world. With all the humans then under their control, they mean to forge an even larger force with which to conquer Heaven.”

The archangel was on her feet. “If this is true, then this world’s fate is sealed. Michael will purify it with the fires of its sun and the Host shall scour clean the remains.”

“No, wait, please!” Tamiel was out of the chair, pewter mug clattering to the floor, and knelt in supplication at the archangel’s side. “Gabriel, I beg you-”

“Beg me? Tamiel, this is now beyond my hands.”

“Humanity will be lost! Please!”

“A surgeon must cut out rot that threatens the whole. One more race lost to time is saddening, yet is a small price to pay.”

“But they are special! You haven’t seen what they can do. Wipe all of us Grigori away if you must, cast our threads back to Source or the Abyss, but please, please spare the humans!”

Gabriel paused. “You would sacrifice yourself to save them?”

Choking back new tears, Tamiel nodded. “Yes.”

“Tell me why.”

“They…they are beautiful. And what they can do, that is even more so! When they love, Gabriel - when they love they move the universe. Out of that love they make choices that did not exist as possibilities until the very moment of choice created them. I’ve seen it! From the smallest changes to ease the pain of just one of their beloveds, to forging impossible victories out of certain defeat to save their entire families or clans. A single act of kindness can cleanse a lifetime of hate, I’ve seen it happen. And so much more! I love them, Gabriel. They will make all of creation better than the Host has ever imagined if only given the chance to do it!”

A gentle hand brushed away fresh moisture from the Grigori’s face. “Then help me, Tamiel. For if I call down my Kerubim en masse, Michael will surely follow and he will not hesitate to burn this threat away in its entirety. That is his purpose, our Prince. He is the Defender of the Throne and he is thorough. And while Camael’s squad awaits his command, they are not likely to be sufficient to eliminate such a threat as you have described without also resorting to more drastic measures. If you had just come home to tell us sooner-”

“We couldn’t. It was forbidden.”

“What?”

“The tribunal that rendered verdict on our petition forbade us from returning for at least seventy cycles of the Throne.”

“Seventy cycles? That’s-”

“Seventy-thousand journeys around this world’s star.”

Gabriel buried her face in her hands. “The fools. I’m sorry, Tamiel, but I see no other way forward. I must unleash destruction upon this world.”

Tamiel chewed the inside of a cheek. “What if…what if I knew someone who might be able to see a better path?”

Scoffing bitterly, Gabriel said, “Only the First could illuminate such a thin thread within the possibilities, and as I understand it he has taken up residence in Hell on the shores of the Abyss.”

“What if I told you that when we first arrived on this world he too was here? And that it was he who taught us how to breed with humanity?”

“The Lightbringer came to Earth?” Gabriel said with surprise. “But he is not here now. We would have felt his presence.”

“No, he isn’t. His daughter, however, is. She is who you should talk to.”

“What?” Surprise became shock.

“I can take you to her. I can take you to Aradia.”

~o~O~o~

Someone was shining an annoyingly bright light into my eyes.

“Ow, quit it,” I muttered. Talk about a lousy way to wake someone up.

Wait, wake up? Had I been asleep? I was sitting in a chair.

“Jordan, how do you feel?” An older nurse hovered over me.

“Uh, hi? Did I black out?” The last thing I’d been doing was talking to the girl, August…

Oh. Tamiel. The whole remembered scene from the distant past was crystal clear in my mind. What was disconcerting was that it had all been perceived as if I had been Gabriel, seen through her eyes and feeling her emotions. In that previous dream I’d been a witness, this time I’d relived it as if it were my own. How the heck does that work?

“You totally did!” August piped up from her bed. “Do you have narcolepsy or something?”

The nurse helped me sit up straighter, causing some tugging on my forehead. Huh. She’d placed those brain monitor things on me instead of August while I was out. I peeked around the nurse to see the display showing nothing but multi-colored static.

Real helpful I’m sure.

“No, not narcolepsy, sheesh. Just getting angelic memories dumped on me occasionally.”

“Is that how you knew they called me Tamiel?” August demanded to know.

“The symbol in your notebook. That’s what it means. It’s also written on your soul.” Ah crap, probably shouldn’t have said that yet.

“Wait, what? You’re saying that I really am Tamiel? That the dream was real?”

I sighed. “Sorry, August. But yeah. I think it likely, especially as I just got a flash of this time where you had a run-in with Gabriel because of the-”

“Don’t tell me!” she shouted, shutting me up. “Seriously, don’t.”

The nurse, frowning at the brain scan thing, reached over and removed the probes from my head. She also pretended she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. Ha! As an excuse to linger she shoved a blood pressure cuff onto my arm.

“You don’t want to know what I saw?” I asked August.

“Not from anyone else.” The girl was adamant.

“Why?”

“Because! Do you have any idea how easily the brain can make stuff up? I’ve seen shows on stuff like this: psychologists doing hypnotherapy and screwing up, leading their patients into all kinds of crazy beliefs of things that never happened. If you tell me anything, I might believe it, or worse build on it and go down a really crazy road.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

She nodded emphatically, and her glasses slid down her nose. She pushed them back up. “If my dream was real, then all information about who I was needs to come from me and not be influenced by anyone else. Even if yours was also something that really happened, I’d want to remember it first.”

“But you could be an angel, like me! The rabbi even gave me books about the lore to read up on to help.”

“Don’t read them! I doubt the real story would have been written down properly in any case.” She settled back down on the bed, seemingly nonplussed.

“This doesn’t bother you?” I asked, surprised by her lack of freaking out. “It scared the heck out of me when I was told about this stuff.”

She pointed to the tubing and its contents dripping into her arm. “Like I said, they’ve got me loopy on brain meds to keep me calm. I’ll probably spaz like crazy tomorrow. But it’s all good!”

The nurse finished checking my blood pressure and muttered, “Perfectly normal.” The way I was feeling, that sounded awfully incorrect. Because c’mon, things were so far from being normal it was ridiculous. She did comment a bit more loudly that August needed her rest. I took the not-so-subtle hint and stood up.

At least the world didn’t spin when I did so.

“August,” I said, “If you do have more dreams of…angel things…could you tell me? With what’s been going on, I need all the information I can get. I’ll respect your wishes and not tell you anything in return, alright?” Her notebook was still in my hands so I offered it back to her.

She took it and held it to her chest protectively. “You’ll run the risk of anything I say influencing or messing up your own beliefs, but if you want it anyway…well okay. And I may want to run an experiment to make sure you actually can read my symbols and aren’t just reading my mind.”

“Sounds fair. I’m, uh, sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Are you kidding? This is exciting! I’ve been a baseline human who can barely levitate a pebble at a school where kids can fly and do truly awesome stuff and you just told me I might be special too! How cool is that?”

I hoped she would feel the same way once those medications wore off, but didn’t say it. Instead I wished her goodnight and headed back to Jenna and Danielle, my mind spinning around the concept of more incarnated angels wandering around on Earth. Not to mention having some of Gabriel’s memories locked in my head somehow.

Did I really want to dislodge them all? Or was I running the risk of making stuff up too?

I didn’t have a good answer to either thought. Jenna, however, had a pertinent question of her own after I walked back in to Danielle’s room and collapsed into a chair.

“Hey Jordan, where’s my coke?”

Well shoot.

Chapter 9 - Interviews

The phone was ringing again but this time it didn’t wake me up. I’d given up trying to sleep hours ago.

“Yeah?” I said crankily, turning away from the web comics that had kept me distracted since dawn.

“You’re awake. Good.” It was Mrs. Cantrel.

“If you say so.”

“Did you get any sleep, girl?” She sounded groggy too.

“Not really. I kept seeing…” I didn’t finish the sentence. Cantrel had been there, she’d seen it too.

There was a tired sigh on the other end. “I doubt any of us had peaceful nights within the sweet arms of Morpheus. But the sun is up, and there is business to attend to.”

I grunted noncommittally.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well get yourself to Crystal Hall and find something. You’ve got half an hour before the administration expects you to deliver your report on yesterday’s events.”

“Fine.”

“Jordan, I…” There was an awkward pause. “Just don’t be late. And remember that the flag is red.” She hung up.

Now I felt guilty. She’d helped try to save Danielle, she didn’t deserve the shitty attitude. Dangit.

I threw on some clothes and did a quick check of Khan’s food bowl which was still full. The little guy hadn’t eaten his breakfast yet either. From his spot on the corner of the bed he watched me leave.

The sky outside was dark and oppressive with the air smelling sharply of more rain on the way. While the forecast yesterday claimed the skies were to be clear for days, obviously mother nature had decided otherwise.

Jenna hadn’t been in her room when I knocked, so I was alone when facing the overwhelming choices offered by the cafeteria. Nothing really seemed appealing. By default a plate was piled with bacon along and a toasted English muffin. That would have to do.

Tray loaded, I meandered past tables of other students while scanning for either an empty one or maybe some familiar faces who weren’t staring or whispering loudly as I went past. Obviously rumors of events were swirling full force through the Whateley grapevine.

Leland waved enthusiastically from a far corner. He was wearing a deep blue long-sleeved shirt that normally would have been causing him over-sensitivity fits, but instead of grimacing from all the motion he was grinning. He did however have on his usual wrap-around sunglasses and hearing protection ear-covers. Next to him was a girl with bright purple hair that dangled in front of face staring down at a phone in her lap.

Setting down my tray, I tried to smile. “G’morning Leland. Who’s your-” My query was cut off as the girl looked up from the game, saw me, and a somber and focused expression brightened immediately.

“Jordan!”

“Evie?” I blinked in surprise. “Your hair!”

Evie smiled widely. “You like it?” She reached up and flipped her bangs back into place.

“That’s quite a difference!” It was, too. Not only were her formerly midnight black locks now a glittering purple, but her whole face was brighter somehow.

“Natalie suggested trying something new.” Eyes now uncertain looked at me, and I knew she needed reassurance.

Evie didn’t deserve my mood either, so I forced a cheerfulness that wasn’t felt. “It looks great, sweetie! Maybe I should get mine done too!”

“Oh no!” she exclaimed loudly. “Your hair is too cool to change!”

“Not as cool as yours is now, though.”

She giggled happily.

Leland piped up with, “Hmm…perhaps I should try mine as a light blue? Though I don’t think I have enough anymore.” He gestured to the freshly cropped dark curls atop his head. As his hand dropped down the shirt slid over the arm but he didn’t flinch. Usually he avoided going out on red flag days because of having to wear shirts and pants which to his skin felt like continuously being stabbed.

“Hey Leland,” I said after taking a bite of the muffin. “New shirt? You seem remarkably comfortable in it.”

“Gadgeteer fabric using nanotech!” He waved arms about with joy. “Practically frictionless, I can’t feel a thing! Isn’t that awesome?”

Seeing how happy he was as he painlessly moved his arms about, I had to agree. “Sure is. That’s fantastic.”

“Frieda, this senior gadgeteer, came to me a few weeks ago. She’s been working on this incredible nano-fabric stuff and needed help with quality control. As my senses are stupidly sensitive and scream at any imperfections in a surface, I helped her perfect the process. She says the engineering applications are unlimited. She’s even promised me a percentage of the profits if I keep helping! I’ll also get all the clothing I can use.” He grinned widely.

Sounded like a win-win to me. “That’s great.”

Evie interrupted, clearly anxious to change the topic and tell me something. “Jordan!”

“Yeah, hon?”

“I’ve been practicing something. Watch!” She held an open hand over her t-shirt and closed her eyes.

After a questioning glance to Leland, he shrugged. He didn’t know what she was doing either. We could tell she was concentrating really hard, but nothing so far was happening.

“Gimme a moment, okay?” she asked after I’d managed to eat a couple strips of bacon. Newly purple eyebrows furrowed with intense focus.

I felt it first as an easing of stress across the shoulders and neck. Leland and I both gasped when a shimmering whiteness flowed outward from her chest, forming into a soft fluorescing sphere hovering above her hand. Where before her manifestations had been dark and oily eel-like things, this was their exact opposite: an opalescent orb radiating soft waves of gladness and peace.

To say that Leland and I were stunned was an understatement of epic proportions.

“Holy cow, Evie!” I said, my jaw dropping. “That’s…that’s amazing!” Her face practically glowed to match the sphere, but the surge of pride must have broken her concentration as the orb flickered before popping much like a soap bubble. Where the shimmering remnants landed on my arm a soothing calm washed away the lingering dark mood from the morning.

“Darn, lost it.” She looked really disappointed.

“That was incredible!” I said, in awe of the peacefulness radiating from just that small contact. “When did you start learning how to do that?”

Perking up from the praise, she said, “Natalie asked me to try the other day during a session. If I focus on a happy memory I can sometimes get one to pop out.”

Leland chimed in too. “Sweet! You could do a ton of good with those. I bet they could help a lot of people.”

I understood what he meant. Her dark emanations caused others to be absolutely paralyzed with their worst fears and sadness, driving deep depression into their hearts. But this? If it could do the opposite…

“Whoa, yeah. Leland is right. If you can perfect that, there’s no telling how much good you could do.”

“You think so?”

We both nodded emphatically. “Heck yes,” I said.

She grinned. “Then I’ll keep practicing!”

“Great!” I smiled back, no longer needing to force it. But I did notice the time on the clock. “Dangit, I gotta run.”

Leland objected. “But we haven’t even had a chance to ask you what happened yesterday! There’s all kinds of stories.”

As I got to my feet I looked sadly at the uneaten pieces of bacon still on my plate. “Sorry guys. I have to go give an official accounting of it all to the folks in charge. I’ll fill you in later, alright?”

Evie caught my hand. “Are you okay?” she asked with concern.

Squeezing her fingers gently, I tried to find an honest answer. “I don’t really know. But it’s not me I’m worried about right now.”

Her expression shifted to one much older than someone her age should ever carry. With that sudden seriousness Evie said, “Go take care of them. Whoever it is that needs you. We can wait.”

Waving goodbye to them both, I jogged out of the hall.

~o~O~o~

After arriving at Schuster Hall I was led by Mrs. Shugendo to a small conference room and told to wait there. Her expression was all business, all I could do was comply.

A few minutes later Isaiah walked in. He again was dressed for court: suit, tie, cuff-links, and Rolex. If you hadn’t known him as well as I did you would never have guessed how not only tired he was, but also how worried. The tightness around the eyes and the stiff posture gave it away.

He took a seat across from me and nodded. “Jordan.”

“Isaiah. You get any sleep on the plane?”

“No.” He scowled for a long moment before turning his face away and sighing. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be angry with you when you look like that?”

“What?” I frowned.

He waved a hand. “You. Looking so young and innocent. If you were still Justin, I’d be yelling at you right now.”

This, of course, got me upset. “If you want to yell, don’t let me sitting here as a girl stop you. Bring it.”

He inhaled, then shouted, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Thinking?”

“Leaving the security defenses of the school like that! Being so reckless!”

Like I hadn’t been asking myself the same damn thing all morning. “We only went to a nearby lake. How the hell were we to know our cover was already blown?”

“You should have been more careful!”

I got to my feet, putting a hand on the table. “We have been careful! Were we supposed to never leave the school at all? We didn’t even go into town! The bigger question is not just how they found us, but how they knew where we were going before we even got there!”

“Carson is working on that, as is Goodman. But that’s not what I’m talking about! I’ve been briefed on what happened. After dealing with the gryphon, you let your guard down!”

The scene replayed in my head: the avatar Billy at my feet and Danielle coming up beside. Taking too much time to look at the burning trees…

Fuck. My friend was right. It hadn’t even occurred to me there could be more enemies out there besides the enslaved Kerubim.

“I…I didn’t expect…” Sinking back into the chair, I chewed on a thumb.

“You did not expect,” he repeated. “After all the danger scenarios I put your characters through in every game I ran, you didn’t think.”

“Hey! This isn’t a fucking role-playing game, Isaiah!”

“EXACTLY!” he yelled, his face turning red. “This is REAL! Every ounce of paranoia, of caution, of planning you’ve ever learned sitting at my table - you better apply it or else you will lose a lot more than some hit points on a piece of paper! I thought you were smart enough to realize that already, but clearly I was wrong. And Danielle is now paying the price.”

“What do you want me to do? Go ahead and heap the blame on me if you want, but that is not going to help her now.”

“I want you to work on fixing it.”

“A shaman here at Whateley is asking his spirits to try and track down hers. And I’ve already done what I could for that too.”

“Oh? How?”

“I sent Tsáyidiel to find her.”

He stuttered. “The…the very fallen angel who was trying to kill her? Are you mad?”

“He’s not fallen any longer. He’s cleansed and he’s free. And I think somehow bound to me.”

Isaiah shook his head in disbelief. “That’s impossible. It has to be a ruse. Though if they plan to use her spirit as bait to get you somewhere, he’d likely still lead you to where she is. So the idea does have potential.”

I seriously wanted to shake him. “You aren’t listening! I cleansed him, or God cleansed him by going through me, however you want to think about it. I am telling you that the name at his core was restored! He is no longer enthralled by Azazel and now he has a chance to be what he once was. He is trying to find Danielle as his first step of repentance!”

The red under his cheeks washed away to white. “How…?”

“How? Like I know or can explain any of this, dude! I just tried to give him a chance, to burn away the darkness corrupting him!”

He sat in silence, clearly in shock. Which seemed odd in and of itself.

“Why is that bothering you so much?” I asked. “Neither of us are experts on this angelic stuff, so how do you know it’s impossible?”

Confusion wrinkled his brow. “I…everyone knows this, Jus…Jordan. Angels, once fallen, stay that way.”

“And you believe everything you hear or read?”

“No, of course not. But this…”

“Well take it from the one who was there. It happened. And when I say that he’ll do whatever he can to find her, I believe him. Because he could never lie to me, I think the bindings between us would prevent it.” As I said them I felt the words to be true. Which was disturbing all on its own.

Sharp eyes refocused behind rectangular frames. “Put that aside for now. We need to get through today first.”

“Today?” I asked, confused.

“Three MCO agents are dead. Possibly killed by students from this school.”

The implications dawned. Oh hell. With all the other craziness this was more I hadn’t thought about. “Let me guess, there’s a huge investigation and I’ll need to be interviewed. And the MCO will want to nail Jenna and Brendan with murder charges.” Shit, shit, and also shit.

“Precisely. The interviews have already started as of this morning. Therefore, as your lawyer, when I tell you to shut up in there - you shut up. Got it?”

“What, I’m supposed to deal with this now?”

“I didn’t get on a plane last night just to sit at Danielle’s bedside. Director Goodman was on the same flight.”

Holy crud. The Director had come personally?

“If you don’t think you’re up to it from all the trauma of yesterday, tell me now. I can try to postpone.” Isaiah waited for me to answer and it was clear he had switched fully into lawyer mode. At least that meant he wouldn’t be yelling at me anymore. Small comfort.

I inhaled sharply then let it out slow. “No, let’s do it. Whatever I can do to help Jenna and Brendan.” I stood up again.

He didn’t. “We’re not done. I’m not sending you in there without going over your statement first in detail. Sit.”

I sat.

“Now tell me, in your own words, exactly what you witnessed.”

Pausing to rewind the memories, I told him. It took awhile, which wasn’t too surprising I guess. He’d interrupt and point out things not to talk about as they were ‘part of an ongoing DPA investigation’ - which included pretty much anything about Nick and also any and all details about angels, cleansing Tsáyidiel, all of that. I was to simply talk about going to the lake, Tsáyidiel’s attack, and driving his spirit from the host avatar mutant, Billy. Then watching Danielle get shot, a second round bouncing off of Jenna, and the subsequent flying Danielle to the hospital.

Once he was satisfied, he nodded. “Alright. Stick to this, and whatever you do, keep yourself under control.”

“Is it going to be that bad?” There was definitely stuff he wasn’t telling me and I didn’t like it.

“Let’s just say I want your recorded reactions in there to be genuine.” He looked at his watch. “The lunch break should be over; we can go.”

He rose from the chair, his thoughts clearly already running through mental scenarios of what was to come. He didn’t even realize that he held the door open for me, and when we went into a much larger conference room full of people present both physically and via video, he pulled a chair out for me in gentlemanly deference so I could sit first.

With everyone staring at us as we entered, I figured that right then was not the best time to tease him about it.

~o~O~o~

The interview went as smoothly as sandpaper across poor Leland’s skin.

Gathered around the table was myself, Mrs. Carson, Mrs. Cantrel, Lt. Forsythe, Isaiah, Director Goodman, and the Kirov brothers - Gregor and Immanuel. Connected via video conference on the huge screens that covered the walls of the room was the MCO contingent consisting of the Boston division Chief, two of his investigators, and to my surprise one Gloria Fairbanks - the same MCO agent who had grilled me at the hospital in Los Angeles when I had woken up with rather different internal plumbing. Also in his own window was a bald older man with a wide and strong face dressed in an impeccable suit and tie, wearing one of those U.S. flag pins on his lapel. He had remained quiet and hadn’t been introduced, but he was watching everything with an obvious keen intelligence.

As for Diego, the wizard at the DPA who had been teaching Danielle, he was absent. When I asked about him, Goodman merely said he was on leave and refused to elaborate.

Gloria, not surprisingly, was the one driving the MCO’s so-called theories on the incident, with the main thrust being that I wasn’t truly Justin Thorne but rather a conspirator of Callas Soren and therefore fully in cahoots with terrorists, including Tsáyidiel. No matter how much the facts showed otherwise, she was doggedly determined to make those accusations fit.

I’ll give Isaiah credit, though. Every time I was about to burst out yelling at the sheer idiocies spewing from her mouth, he put a hand in front of me to keep me quiet. And then he’d proceed to rip those ridiculous notions to shreds one by one with clear and brutal logic. It was highly satisfying.

She had already come to dislike him before I entered into the room as apparently he had prevented the MCO from interviewing Jenna or Brendan by speaking as their lawyer and requiring that, being minors, they must have a parent present. As I was officially emancipated I had no such loophole to avoid being dragged in, but I was really grateful that my friends were, so far at least, able to avoid being accused to their faces of being murderous terrorists.

“From the report given by Mrs. Cantrel and Lieutenant Forsythe,” Isaiah was saying, “both of whom are impeccable witnesses as we have all acknowledged given their backgrounds, the specific site at the lake chosen for the outing was not revealed to the students prior to their departure. Furthermore the entire trip was initially conceived Friday night, with permission and approvals not having been granted until yesterday morning. Thus any notion that Jenna Beltran, Brendan Rogers, or even Jordan Emrys could have used this outing as a pretext to meet with the international terrorist known as Tsáyid fails against the merits of the facts.”

Gloria interjected. “They could have called with cellular phones on the way.”

Isaiah shot that down too. “Thanks to the efforts of Director Goodman in securing fast-track warrants for their phone records, it is clear that no such activity occurred from the time they were invited to join the outing to the lake through to the time the Whateley Security squad arrived on the scene. Indeed from Mrs. Cantrel’s report, it is clear that Jordan herself was not entirely certain where she was and required guidance on how to even find the school when bravely carrying the grievously wounded Danielle Thorne to the trauma center on campus.”

“How do you explain then,” Gloria demanded, “how an inexperienced and newly meta-powered individual somehow managed to not only defeat the Class X designated terrorist entity but also sever the connection to its avatar host? This is clearly another ruse meant to deceive us!”

There was that term again: Class X. I could tell it didn’t mean anything good but that’s still all I knew.

Rabbi Kirov cleared his throat. “If I may, it is the opinion of our supernatural experts, in concordance with the measurements recorded at not just the nearby ARC facilities but also across the world, that a singular event occurred during that encounter. Collectively they have classified the unique energy signature as a Class Y event.”

Director Goodman interjected a question. “Class Y? What do they mean by that?”

The rabbi straightened in his chair. “Simply put, they have classified it as an Act of God.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before everyone tried to speak at once. Isaiah put a reassuring hand on mine while they all argued with voices rising in volume. I stared at his fingers but didn’t pull away.

Mrs. Carson stood and barked, “Enough!” That got them all to shut up.

The older guy on the video conference activated his microphone. “Mrs. Carson,” he said politely in a gravelly voice showing the abuse of far too many years smoking. “If I may?”

“Director Smith, go ahead.” Mrs. Carson glared at the rest who remained quiet.

Oh shit, I knew who this guy was. I’d seen his photo in a news article announcing his political appointment. He was the Director of National Intelligence, the guy that the FBI, the CIA, and even military spooks reported to. I swallowed nervously while hoping my stomach wouldn’t do anything stupid. You know, like puke bacon bits all over the conference table. Maybe an even blander breakfast would have been a better choice. Like a glass of water for example.

“First,” said the man who was in charge of all the intelligence agents in the United States, “let me offer my thanks to Director Goodman for contacting my office and inviting me to this conference.”

All eyes went to Goodman. The MCO’s glares revealed how they felt about such an invitation.

“Second,” Smith continued, “I just received a report from the Arkham Research Consortium on the nature of the ammunition used by the three deceased MCO agents. They confirm the presence of Class X residue within the recovered bullets and also within the bodies of the deceased. As such this is now a matter of National Security and will be handled exclusively by the DPA to be overseen by my office. Boston Chief McCormick, I require your division of the MCO to cooperate fully with the followup investigation. I will be drafting an order to test all MCO personnel in the city and rural offices for signs of this residue. Can I expect your full assistance, Chief?”

The head MCO guy, McCormick, looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Uh, I will need to discuss with my superiors, sir. But the MCO will certainly abide by the conditions of our agreement with the United States Government.” Gloria didn’t just look uncomfortable, her eyes wanted to jump out of their sockets in outrage.

But she held her tongue. Apparently she wasn’t completely stupid. Don’t quote me on that.

“Excellent,” Smith said. “Thank you. Your offices will be contacted shortly. With this evidence in hand it is clear that both Jenna Beltran and Brendan Rogers were defending themselves against a greater evil. Further, the details are hereby deemed Classified and not to be discussed. Understood?” Once everyone acknowledged, Smith ended the meeting and with a nod of familiarity to Mrs. Carson, the screens with the MCO personnel went blank. With them gone, Smith addressed Mrs. Carson and the rest of the Whateley staff present. “I’d like to thank you all for the swiftness of the transfer of the evidence to Arkham for independent analysis.”

Mrs. Carson smiled. “This is not our first rodeo with the MCO, Director.”

Smith chuckled. “No, it certainly isn’t. When it comes to events like this, your school seems to be ground zero for trouble.”

“We would be hard pressed to argue that,” she admitted. “What more can we do to assist?”

The chief of all the nation’s agents and spies lost his smile. “Find out whoever leaked to the compromised MCO agents the itinerary and passenger list for the excursion yesterday. Take all precautions in case they too are tainted and pose a threat.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Carson agreed.

“I do have an additional request,” Smith added. “One to which I’m sure Mister Cohen will object.”

Isaiah stiffened, removing his hand from mine as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Sir?”

“I wish to speak with Ms. Emrys directly. Alone.”

I gulped.

~o~O~o~

Smith had been right, Isaiah was seriously not happy about the idea. It took both Mrs. Carson and Goodman to convince him otherwise, along with me pointing out that if I didn’t talk to Smith then the guy in charge of all National Intelligence would think I had stuff to hide.

Which didn’t seem to be a very safe position to be in. Isaiah had to acknowledge the truth of that and reluctantly walked out along with everyone else, leaving me alone with Smith’s face dominating a single large screen on the wall. It was sort of funny, I’d met and snarked off to a sorceress thousands of years old and also had spoken with two archangels, but the thought of talking to a member of the President’s cabinet had me freaking nervous.

Once the door to the room shut, he took a sip from a clear glass before opening with a simple question.

“Should I call you Justin or Jordan?”

“Uh, Jordan is fine, sir. I’ve become used to it.”

He shook his head in sympathy as he put down the glass. “Hell of a thing, going through what you have. If it helps reassure you any, I’ve put the word out to our own experts that if they can help your niece, they should do so.”

“I…thank you, sir.”

“There’s no easy way to approach a subject like this,” he said, “so let me preface things first. Do you know what is meant by ‘Class-X’ and that classification?”

“Not exactly, no,” I said honestly. “I keep hearing it mentioned, but I just started classes and they haven’t covered it.”

He tapped fingers together. “It’s a designation for things beyond our understanding and, near as we can tell, things that should not be. In other words, entities and energies utterly foreign to our reality and possibly all levels of existence. If the mystics are to be believed, that is. To call these things evil barely scratches the surface of the horrors they represent.”

“Sir?” While I appreciated the clarification, where was he going with this?

He frowned as if trying to figure that out himself. “I’ve been in intelligence work all my life, both military service and with various government agencies. I say this because I once was a field agent and over those years encountered many things that defy description. And yet compared to Class X events what I’ve seen is practically harmless in comparison. They weren’t things which could pound their way free of the tightest magical and physical security that billions of dollars could buy, while destroying the minds of all the direct witnesses that, for whatever their reasons, the monsters didn’t simply shred limb from limb.”

I stayed quiet as he shuddered at the memories of the reports that had crossed his desk - or worse, that he personally had gone out to investigate.

“I relate all this so you can hopefully understand. Our world is not safe. There are things locked away that strive for our destruction, and they indeed have the power to wipe us out if given the opportunity. We have been lucky so far as our mystics, our shamans, and our specially talented people have managed - at times only barely and at tremendous cost - to hold back a madness of evil that would if unchecked destroy our very souls.”

He paused to let that sink in. “I was born and raised Christian. But along the way the faith that first propelled me into service eroded - chip by chip - with each new witnessed terror. And I’ve had to do and order things that haunt my thoughts and dreams. Occupational hazard, I suppose, but one I gladly pay for every life and soul my efforts have and might yet save. But that last shard within still clinging stubbornly to the belief in a caring God above demands to ask a question of you.”

He breathed in as if bracing himself. In a more subdued voice he asked, “Are you truly an angel of the Lord? Are you the answer to the prayers of all of us who have tried to hold the line against the dark all these years?”

I sat silently and he patiently waited for me to reply. Eventually I tried to answer. “It’s been a hard thing to come to grips with, sir, as you might imagine. I was never a man of faith myself before all this changed.” I gestured at my female body and all it represented. “Yet the more that things happen, the more I see and do, and the more I give myself over to the power I’ve become connected to…well, the more I’ve come to believe in it too. But,” I said quickly, “what it all portends, I cannot say. I’m riding a whirlwind here and where it all will end up - and how it might affect the world - is not something I have any grasp on. By all the evidence I am forced to admit that I may indeed be an angel, yet I am still struggling to understand what exactly that means. In that I’m just like anyone else: finding myself praying and asking for guidance and help.”

Smith allowed himself a small smile. “Are you familiar with the story of Joan of Arc?”

“Passingly so, sir.”

“She was on trial by priests who for political reasons needed to find her guilty of heresy. But the more they questioned her, the more they became troubled because she gave answers that reaffirmed the possibility that she might really have been sent by the Lord of Hosts. I find myself now understanding the difficulties that they faced.”

“How so?”

“I must go brief the President on an ‘Act of God’ that happened right here on American soil. As you can well imagine, it will be a tricky conversation.”

I winced. “Sorry. I wish I had more concrete things I could tell you.”

He waved off the concern. “Trust me, vague intelligence is something one gets used to in this business. I do wish to thank you for your candor. And to add that, should the Almighty be acting directly once again upon our world, the United States of America is still a nation under God and will stand ready to do her part in holding back the darkness with all the power and might she can offer.”

His statement left me speechless. How do you respond to something like that?

He smiled warmly, perceiving my difficulty in speaking. “Take care, Ms. Emrys. If you would, please send in Director Goodman. There are things I need to discuss with him further and may as well do so now.”

Swallowing, I nodded and got up. “Thank you, sir.” As I moved towards the door I stopped to look back at him. “If I might ask, what sort of questions did the priests ask Joan?”

He didn’t hesitate. “They asked her if she was truly in a state of grace with the Lord. For if she answered ‘yes’ they could pursue her on how anyone would dare claim to know the mind of God, and if she answered ‘no’ they would then have their result of heresy.”

“And her answer?”

“She replied that if she was indeed in a state of grace she prayed God would keep her. And if she wasn’t, she prayed He would guide her there.”

Once again at a loss for words, I stepped into the hall to send in Goodman.

Chapter 10 - Gifts

I found Isaiah in Mrs. Carson’s office.

“Tell me what was discussed,” he demanded as soon as I walked in. Sometimes he forgets when he’s stuck in hard-ass lawyer mode.

“Nothing with legal ramifications,” I replied curtly.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Rolling my eyes, I caught Carson’s amused smile. “Seriously, dude,” I said to him, “Smith wanted to know if I believed I was an angel or not. He’s got a tough task on his hands in reporting everything, you know, to the President.”

Isaiah glared for a moment, then grunted.

“So uh, what now?” I asked. The large windows in Mrs. Carson’s office were being washed by a serious downpour outside. Great, I was going to get soaked. I’d forgotten an umbrella again.

Mrs. Carson answered. “For now, I need to speak further with Mr. Cohen about another matter. I imagine, however, that both he and Elliot - Director Goodman - will be hungry by four. Why don’t you come back around then and escort them to dinner here on campus?”

“Another matter?” I looked over at Isaiah curiously.

“I have been retained to assist the school on a different case. That’s all I can say.” He gave Mrs. Carson a meaningful look.

She sighed. “Let’s just say that Danielle isn’t the only recent victim of the MCO.”

“What? Who else have they hurt?”

Tapping fingernails on the desk, Mrs. Carson looked thoughtful. But before she said anything more the phone chimed. She picked it up and spoke firmly with the party on the other end. “Yes? …You have? …I see. Proceed with full protocol. …Yes. We will meet you there.”

Pursing her lips, she hung up. “You both should come with me.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Security detention. They’ve identified the leaker who compromised the lake trip to those MCO agents. They will be bringing him in.” Reaching behind her desk she produced a tall blue umbrella. Handing it to Isaiah she commented, “You’ll need this. Jordan and I can handle being cold and wet.”

I wanted to say she should speak for herself, but caught myself. As someone from California who was always hoping for more rain, I think I was finally tired of being drenched.

Yeah, yeah, cry a river. Though from the look of it out the window, that’s what the clouds were in the process of doing. Joyous.

~o~O~o~

Mrs. Carson and I indeed got soaked just from crossing over to Kane Hall where Security occupied the first floor and several basement levels. Security had already captured their target by the time we arrived. A full squad of armored security had gone for the safest option and simply used a tranquilizer dart on the suspected leaker before carting them away.

Thing is, he turned out to be one of their own: Security Private Orlando Jensen. Mrs. Carson told us on the way over that Orlando and been working there for three years and while he’d bent some rules occasionally, they’d never been anything serious.

Not like this, anyway.

Seeing the room they’d placed him in triggered a nasty flashback to the storage unit where Nick and I had found Danielle tied to a chair. This room, while much better illuminated, was similarly covered on the floor, walls, and ceiling with mystic symbols that were activated. The flow of energy spinning through it all kept trying to mess with my sense of balance which was the last thing my damn sensitive stomach needed. We peered in through a one-way mirror, its surface also adorned with magical seals and therefore making our view inside rather warped.

Orlando was unconscious and slumped upon a metal folding chair in the center of the room with many straps holding him securely in place. He had been stripped down to his underwear. They had even removed his wedding band, you could tell by the pale tan line clearly visible around the ring finger.

Isaiah didn’t seem at all surprised by the setup, his eyes were fixated only on the Private which made me wonder if he’d seen something like this before. Not that I could ask him right now though.

Carson gestured to a suited-up security guy hovering nearby. “Wake him up.” An order was given through his helmet’s comm system and a puff of white smoke blew into the room. Orlando coughed and his eyes fluttered open.

“What the hell…? Hey! Is this some kind of joke, why am I in the mystic lockdown? Guys?” He began to struggle against the restraints but they wouldn’t budge.

With another gesture from Carson, a light above our glass window went from red to green.

“Hello Orlando, can you hear me?”

He stopped struggling, eyes going wide. “Headmistress Carson? What’s going on?”

“I was hoping you could tell us.” Turning to the guy coordinating things, she said harshly, “Play it.”

Through the speakers came a recording. It was Orlando’s voice as he rattled off the details of our itinerary to the lake, mentioning me and Danielle by name and also the exact coordinates of our destination. Seriously, he included the longitude and latitude.

“That’s not me!” Orlando protested, his voice shrill with fear.

Carson watched the guy struggle and shout his innocence. With a frown she muttered quietly, “Louis, we could use your help.”

To Isaiah’s credit, he only jumped back a half-step when Louis appeared out of thin air.

“You rang?” he said with a smile, but his mirth faded upon seeing what was going on.

Pointing to Orlando, Carson said, “He’s the source that led the tainted MCO agents to Jordan and Danielle. We need to know if he’s under any mental compulsions or if his memory has been altered. But be careful.”

Raising an eyebrow at all the fully activated wards, Louis nodded. “Very well.” He turned his attention to the frightened occupant in the other room.

Curious, I tried to open my senses too, wanting a better look at all the mystic wards in any case. They were amazing, swirling about like a field of ribbons to collectively lock Orlando’s spirit in place. If he started raising any magical manna, those ribbons were ready to channel it away and nullify any intended effect. But a different ribbon of magenta and silver danced between them all before slipping an end into Orlando’s forehead. It must have come from Louis.

“No compulsions currently,” Louis said. “But there is a gap in his memory…wait a moment…”

Because I was watching so closely, I saw it. A black spot appeared like a spider on Orlando’s shoulder to dart up his neck and launch itself at Louis’ ribbon. I didn’t have time to shout a warning as Louis’ image on our side of the window gasped and disappeared. The spider-thing had sunk dark tendrils into Louis’ mental connection to Orlando.

Just like I’d seen in Tamara when the demon had been infecting and corrupting her soul.

Reacting out of sheer instinct, I dropped the restrictions on my power and slammed the resulting surge all towards that spider. An equal back-flow cascaded into the channels for the wings and they instantly flared out behind me. The blinding light in front lashed out towards Louis’ reddish silver ribbon with the glistening blackness of that multi-tentacled spider-like thing that had latched on.

The energy hit and pulled me in.

 

Like a torch standing alone within the depths of the deepest of caverns, I burned. Louis was at my side; he struggled against the pressing darkness. With an effort of will that torch flared brighter to surround him within the safety of the light.

A harsh voice cut across the cavern.

“You are becoming an irritant, young one. This mentalist would have been a fine addition to our collective and would have easily made up for the loss of our hunter.”

Mentalist? Jesus, he meant Louis. Wait, their hunter? Ah hell. “You can’t have him, Azazel!”

The fallen angel laughed, causing a surge of pressure against the illuminated boundary I had projected. It was absolutely disgusting, like being shoved by rotting feathers dipped in an oil slick.

“It matters not,” Azazel rasped. “Our brother awakens, and soon we shall have the codex and thereby gain our freedom. Perhaps then we shall reward you for being the trigger for our success. Yes, little spark, we shall reward you with many gifts. So many that you shall drown in their despair!”

Again his laugh scraped against the barrier, but this time I pushed back, pulsing the light outward to hopefully burn away the enveloping darkness.

To my surprise the smothering black withdrew without a fight and we snapped free.

 

Refocusing with still-burning eyes, I was standing over Orlando’s unconscious form within the detention room. Mrs. Carson came bursting through the door holding some kind of mystical staff that left a trail of golden sparkles in its wake.

Louis’ image appeared next to me. “Carson! I’m alright!”

It was immediately obvious that the same could not be said for Orlando.

He wasn’t breathing.

“Oh no,” I gasped, and with hands still glowing bright I ripped him free from the restraints as if they were tissue paper, laying him on the floor before checking his pulse. There wasn’t one. Mrs. Carson shouted for the medical team as I began CPR.

But I knew it was a waste of effort. With every touch of my lips upon his trying to breathe air and energy into his lungs I could feel that the space where a soul had once resided had been ripped asunder. The pattern had been shredded, it would never again host a spirit.

His soul was gone and there was nothing left to come back to.

The medic was afraid to touch me so Mrs. Carson had to pull me off what once had been Private Orlando Jensen.

As she guided me out of the room, my cheeks covered with tears of white fire, I caught a glimpse through the remains of the one-way mirror I had slammed energy through. It wasn’t the melted wards and glass, however, that caught my attention.

It was Isaiah.

He stood in the other room staring fixated on Orlando’s lifeless and soulless body. Behind his glasses burned a deep and barely contained fury of the like I had never seen on my friend before.

I’ll be honest, it scared me.

~o~O~o~

We regrouped in a smaller conference room on a different sub-level. It was rather crowded as Director Goodman and Whateley Chief of Security Franklin Delarose had joined us. I’d already taken a moment in the hallway to clamp down on the light, which wasn’t hard to do given how heavy felt my heart.

Once everyone was seated Mrs. Carson looked over at Louis. “What happened.” It was a command to report rather than a question.

Louis, despite being a mental projection, stroked his chin introspectively. “I can offer only speculation at this point.”

Carson leaned her temple against a finger. “Explain what you can.”

He shrugged. “Orlando was both guilty and innocent. His psyche had been infected by something incredibly subtle, and which did not show itself to my preliminary scan.”

“It was Azazel,” I interrupted. All attention swung to me so I continued. “The spider thing - a piece of his evil I think - appeared and attacked Louis’ connection to Orlando. It was trying to infect Louis too. I’m, uh, sorry about your room and its wards,” I added sheepishly. I knew how much time and effort went into making those kinds of protections, having seen what it took just to redo the second circle in my bedroom. The mystical staff would have their hands full trying to rebuild the ones downstairs.

Chief Delarose, a serious looking man who totally should have been wearing a fedora but wasn’t, spoke to Louis. “Are you clean? We should send a team to scan you.”

Louis startled. “I believe I am. But yes, of course, by all means send a team. Better to be safe.”

“What about her?” The Chief pointed at me.

“It didn’t touch me,” I said firmly. “I didn’t let it, and that bastard ran away before I could blast him.”

“Azazel? He was there directly?” Mrs. Carson asked, concern deepening.

I nodded.

“How did he get past the school wards?” She stared at me intently. “There was no detectable disturbance.”

Louis answered as I didn’t have a clue. “If I had to venture a guess, whatever was in Orlando was not just a working of evil but a very tiny shard of Azazel himself. It didn’t need to penetrate the wards as it was already inside. And while our defenses are quite potent, they are more focused on keeping such things out - not in. The shard escaped to someone outside; I caught a glimpse of a subway car before all contact was lost.”

I was impressed. I hadn’t seen anything like that.

Director Goodman asked, “Do you recognize the subway?”

“New York City, I believe,” Louis replied. “Which would indicate a power and range far beyond my own - with only the tiniest fragment of spirit. Whoever it was on the subway, they were likely a nexus conduit for the wider New England area.”

Everyone was silent while that sank in. Louis was one of the most powerful psychics we knew, the thought of something even stronger was scary as heck. I risked a glance over at Isaiah who hadn’t said anything. He was back to being blank and observant, whatever had shown in the interrogation room was gone - or buried.

The Chief pondered the implications. “If our wards need improvement, how can that be accomplished? Do we have the capacity to defend against this entity?”

“Rabbi Kirov can help,” I said with sudden certainty. “When I met him he said he had warded his office so only an angel could have entered. Maybe he can do the reverse? Though if he does, he better somehow add me as an exception. This may sound weird, but I think angels may go through the dimensions differently than others do.” My thoughts kept picturing the writing in August’s notebook, how the full symbols wove themselves through the layers of reality. They blended dimensions in ways I couldn’t quite grasp except for an instinctive understanding that to the symbols all the layers were somehow seen as one.

Thinking about it gave me a headache. Powering up would probably help, but probably best not to do that in the middle of the conference room. The walls downstairs had scorch marks courtesy of my wings.

“The entity,” Louis was saying, “in its brief conversation with Jordan referred to itself as a collective. Which I believe gives us an answer to the actions of the MCO agents that our students encountered. Also, I advise avoiding saying the name of the entity if possible. Such names have power.”

Director Goodman paled. “How many more people might be infected by these shards?”

My stomach did a somersault at Louis’ calm and matter of fact reply. “Anywhere from a few thousand to a few million.”

Delarose said aloud what the rest of us were thinking. “Well, shit.”

Both Goodman and Carson tried to speak at the same time. He waved for her to go first, but with a tense smile she said, “Go ahead, Elliot.”

There was a brief answering smile under the mustache before he said, “I will need to recontact Director Smith with this latest information. We also need to immediately work on a way to detect these shards, and start the scanning with everyone at Whateley. Staff and students.”

Mrs. Carson didn’t look too happy about that, but Chief Delarose nodded his agreement. Goodman added, “Perhaps if the Kirov brothers worked with Louis - and Jordan if that would be helpful - then Gregor could come up with something quickly. He’ll need access to a proper lab, of course.”

“We have plenty of those,” Delarose said dryly. “Students and teachers are constantly blowing them up, so spares are always being rebuilt to maintain the supply.”

The Headmistress stood, putting her hands on the table to lean over us all. “Then we should get to it. Chief, please inform Orlando’s family, but the specific details are not to be released. Until told otherwise by Elliot or Director Smith they are considered to be Classified. His family is to receive the full death benefit and pension, is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She looked first to Isaiah and then to Goodman. “You gentlemen should accompany me to my office, we have more to discuss.” They both agreed. “Louis,” she said as she turned to him, “find the rabbi and his brother. Get them motivated.” He nodded and disappeared.

Which left me. “What should I do, ma’am?” I asked quietly.

Her posture of command softened. “Nothing for now, Jordan, unless the Kirovs send word. Thank you.”

They all got up to file out. Isaiah gave me a concerned nod before he too exited.

I found myself all alone. Just me and the creeping feeling of guilt swarming in my gut. Not only had my coming here put Danielle in the hospital with a missing spirit, but it had just cost an innocent man his life. And his family would soon be suffering an overwhelming grief that I could empathize with all too well.

The stomach knotted up and eyes fought back additional tears, but there was something else stirring within the depths and climbing upwards: rage.

I was furious at the source of all this pain and death. I wanted Azazel to pay. I wanted justice for Orlando, for Danielle, for Tsáyidiel, for those MCO officers, and for all others who had been afflicted by that horrible evil. As I rose from the table with the surging anger I had a questioning thought.

Was my own face now showing the same expression that Isaiah had earlier?

Chapter 11 - Crossing

Not knowing what to do while everyone else was busy, I wandered back over to the medical center. Making use of a loaned umbrella, I managed to get soaked by the rain anyway. But I owed Brendan a visit, and wondered if Jenna would also be there.

She wasn’t.

Brendan was awake and reading a book. The bed was much larger than the usual ones, but given his height I’d imagine not just his feet but practically everything below his knees would stick awkwardly off the end if they had put him in one regular sized. When I walked in he set the book aside on a tray table. He’d been reading The Jerusalem Bible. Wonderful.

“Hiya Brendan, you doing alright?” I asked.

His usual joyful demeanor was missing. Instead he seemed cautious and wary, thick circles under the eyes framing a haunted expression. “Hey Jordan.” Gesturing to the thigh tucked under a light blanket, he said, “It could have been a lot worse.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” I stood awkwardly at the bedside and couldn’t help but stare at the bandages creeping up the side of his hip that peeked out from under the covers.

“Sorry? Why? You didn’t shoot me.”

I bit my lip unable to meet his gaze. “Because I put you all in danger. Just by being here.”

There was a pause of silence. “Huh,” he said. “Well, I guess that partially answers some of my questions. Why don’t you pull up a chair.”

I did so. “You’re not okay, are you. I’m not either, not really.”

“I keep closing my eyes and seeing what I did to those agents. Like it’s stuck on a loop. I broke them. Badly. And they died.”

“The evil killed them, Brendan. The same evil that tried to kill me after I manifested is still hunting me. The government guy agrees with that, too. They aren’t pressing any charges. It wasn’t your-”

“No.” He cut me off quietly but with force. “I know the damage I did to them. They would have been paralyzed. Or worse.”

“They were trying to kill us and almost killed Danielle! As it is she’s lost her soul! What else could you have done?”

He growled. “I should have been smarter and either run or hit the damn ground and let the Lieutenant do his job!”

“But you and Jenna saved the Lieutenant and Mrs. Cantrel!”

“Did we? Or did we go charging off blind without having any clue as to what we were getting into? That’s what I’m so mad about. Though I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why not?”

He just shook his head. “Jenna didn’t either, and she needs to. We argued about it this morning.”

Jenna and Brendan fighting? Shit. No wonder he was so upset. “What happened?”

“I told her I didn’t want you to be on our combat team. And that even helping you practice with your powers was a very bad idea.”

I sank further into the chair. All I could say was, “Oh.”

He stared at the blank ceiling. “It’s not your fault. Not about that, or even for whatever evil is after you. You are what you are. And we are what we are.”

“I…I don’t understand.” Pulling feet up onto the chair, my forehead pressed against the knees.

“Your power,” he said, struggling with a way to explain. “It’s not of this world. When it washed over me, I felt…lifted up? Righteous. Invincible. And there was a clear threat and impurity nearby needing to be…smited.”

“I know it can be overwhelming, but-”

“No you don’t!” he shouted angrily, catching himself before taking a sharp breath. “You don’t. I came to this school to learn how to use my abilities with the hopes of some day being a hero and helping people. My dad though, he’s served his time as a soldier. And one thing he drummed into me over and over was this: ‘When everything goes to shit, boy, you keep your head. You think, you plan, you act. Otherwise you die.’ And that’s just it. I didn’t. Your power, that overwhelming rush, it washed it all away. There was no thought, only this…glory. I was wrapped up in it, exulting in it, and I would have died for it. Without thought, without question.”

He tried to sit up higher on the bed, wincing as that caused his leg to shift. “But I wasn’t invincible. That feeling lied. They shot me with those cursed bullets and penetrated my TK field like it was cardboard. If Jenna and I hadn’t quickly defeated them I would have bled out.”

Looking to where I huddled in my chair, he reached out a huge hand and gently touched mine where they were tightly gripping my shins. “Do you see? I’ve never been religious. My parents sit on the fence between atheism and being agnostic. They always said what a person does is more important than what they believe. But I’ve seen fanaticism. My aunt is born-again and you can see it in her eyes: the only thing that matters to her is serving her faith. She will do things because she believes it is ‘God’s will’, all while spanking my cousins mercilessly as punishment for skipping their prayers to get their schoolwork done. I’ve never understood how someone could be like that, how someone could lose all perspective and sense of self into such a thing. Now I do. It scares me. And I don’t scare easy.”

“Brendan, I…” Words slipped away.

“It’s not your fault,” he said again. “I am what I am. Human. Maybe that makes me weak, and maybe you could learn to control your powers and make us unstoppable. But I don’t think I’d be me. And I’m worried because Jenna doesn’t agree.”

“She doesn’t?”

“No. She believes…” he paused. “She believes you were sent here by God. And that we need to protect you no matter what until you can do whatever it is you were sent here to do.”

“But we don’t know that! I’ll admit everything points to me being some sort of angel, but it’s not like I talk to God or anything. In fact, being here like this might be a mistake. Caused by a really old and cunning sorcerer.”

Did I believe that, though? If I hadn’t been here, Evie might have caused a lot of students pain. If not death. Plus Tamara had been possessed by that demon - what would have happened to her?

But Danielle lay without her soul in the other room. And only an hour ago I watched Orlando die.

Was that part of God’s plan too?

Brendan squeezed to get my attention before letting go. “I agree we should protect you. But, no offense, I’m not willing to sacrifice my humanity to do it. Actually, I feel that should also apply to you. You’ve said you were normal before all this happened. Hold on to that. Hold on to who you were.” He pointed to the bible. “Because what angels do in those stories isn’t nice. If anything, they may be the worst fanatics of all.”

We both fell silent. He on the bed with a muscle twitching in that strong jaw of his and I curling deeper in the chair unsure of what to say or do.

“You should find Jenna,” he said finally. “Talk to her. Maybe she wasn’t as overwhelmed as I was, maybe her childhood faith will protect her better. I have no idea how this stuff works.”

“Neither do I,” I said quietly.

“Then you’d better learn. Because whether what’s happened to you is part of some large cosmic plan or not, the impact is likely to be huge and it’s just beginning.”

“I’m trying.”

“Yeah, I know. Just work on keeping the collateral damage down, okay? And when you find Jenna, tell her I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t have. I was raised better than that.”

“I will.”

“Thanks.” He adjusted his sitting position again, clenching teeth against the pain of doing so.

“Is your leg going to heal?”

He nodded. “They say it will, just at a normal human rate. I’ll be stuck on crutches for a couple weeks. It’s just pain, I’ll deal.”

“I’m really sorry.” I had to say it again. I just had to.

“I know, Jordan. I know.” With that he closed his eyes and his breathing deepened.

I walked out.

~o~O~o~

Since I had at least an hour if not more until Isaiah and Goodman would want dinner, I wandered the halls of the hospital lost in thought until finding myself once again standing outside Danielle’s room.

I hesitated before going in, which was silly. My confused emotions weren’t going to have much impact on someone who’s spirit wasn’t even there. Still, I tried to get myself together as best I could before opening the door.

To my surprise Zap was sitting there playing a game on his phone. A raincoat draped over the back of the chair was dripping into a small puddle on the floor.

“Zap!”

He continued swiping across the screen on his phone. “About time you got here. Been waiting. Your phone just goes direct to voicemail and you weren’t at Hawthorne,” he said with a trace of annoyance.

“Uh, my phone is at the bottom of a lake. Feel free to go get it if you want.”

Grunting, he stood up and shoved the phone into a pocket. “I’ve been told to tell you that you’re not listening properly.”

“Excuse me?” Now I was getting irritated.

“Not me,” he said with exasperation as he pointed upwards. “Ra. He’s been pushing at me for the last couple hours to find you.”

My irritation shifted to befuddled worry. “Ra sent you?”

He nodded, eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights. “Ra says you need to pay attention. Your servitor has been trying to talk to you. Anubis agrees.”

First Ra, and now Anubis? I had the sudden thought I should go grab Khan and watch out for women flying by on broomsticks. Oh, and tornadoes. Definitely tornadoes. “Okay, uh…but you’re not my servitor or whatever…”

He looked at me funny. “Of course not.” He gazed towards the ceiling as if listening to something. “They say, and I quote, ‘the angel bound to your word requests an audience’.”

It didn’t make sense, at least not until I focused my perceptions to spirit-side. There was an immediate tugging sensation. Tsáyidiel! His voice flowed quickly into my thoughts.

“My lady!” I could feel his relief at finally making contact.

“Tsáyidiel,” I thought back. “Have you found her?” Hope flared within my heart.

“I have. Her spirit, however, is being held captive. And without your strength, I lack the power to free her.”

Hope collided with fear. Captive? “How do I give you my power? How do I help?” Did he just need me to channel energy to him? Would that work?

“You must travel with me, my lady. Into the realms of ancient dreams. Together I believe we may succeed, either diplomatically or otherwise.”

Zap waited patiently. I wondered if he could hear our conversation. “There’s an angel-,” I started to say.

“That you saved yesterday,” he interrupted. “Yeah, I know. Jenna filled me in; I tried her room after yours.”

“He’s found Danielle’s spirit!”

Zap nodded. “And he needs you to go with him to save her.”

I blinked. “Uh, how’d you know that?”

“My lady?”

Gah. “Hang on, Tsáyidiel. I’m trying to deal with someone-”

“How do you think?” Zap pointed up again, though this time he used a middle finger to do so. “They’re insisting that I go with you.”

I looked over at Danielle’s empty shell of a body. It sounded crazy. Traveling to spirit realms? But if there was a chance to save her…

“Tsáyidiel, I will come. Let me prepare.”

“As my lady commands.”

Of course, I had no idea how to do any of it. But first things first. “Zap, you don’t have to do this. It sounds like it could be dangerous.”

He shrugged. “If I don’t, I’m going to have two gods bitching me out for weeks. I’d rather avoid that headache.”

Impulsively I grabbed him in a close hug and gave his cheek a quick peck. “Thanks.” The poor boy flushed, but hugged back. Yeah, I blushed too, surprised by my own impetuousness.

But there was hope. I leaned over Danielle’s unconscious form and kissed her forehead.

“Hang in there, sweetie,” I whispered. “We’re coming for you.”

~o~O~o~

I used the phone in the hospital to call Mrs. Carson’s office. I may have made up my mind that I was going to gods-know-where (ha, literally!), but I wasn’t going to do so without letting the teachers know all about it. Even if I was afraid they’d try to stop me.

Surprisingly, Carson didn’t. She expressed concern, but seemed more at ease or at least resigned to the idea when I explained that Zap had been sent by his gods to go with me. She said she would send Circe and Rabbi Kirov to my room and to wait until they got there before trying anything.

I agreed. Zap and I proceeded to race through the growing thunderstorm back to Hawthorne.

Running through the front doors (dripping wet yet again!), we made a bee-line towards the elevator but the guy on monitor duty downstairs called out, “Hey Red! You got a delivery!”

Skidding to a halt, I backtracked to the front desk where a senior with wild metal spikes for hair tossed me one of those thickly padded manila envelopes. My name and address was clearly printed both in English and Arabic, which to my surprise I was able to read. The postage was comprised of a ton of foreign stamps.

What the hell?

Ignoring for the moment being able to easily comprehend a totally foreign language, I went over to the lounge and carefully opened the envelope. A slip of paper and a six-inch long scroll with fancy endcaps tied closed by a silk ribbon slid into my hands.

The paper was a handwritten note:

 

Jordan - I trust this will arrive safely. My research into trying to decipher the ancient symbols Soren used in his ritual led me to this scroll and to something else which I believe is much bigger. I’m still working on gaining access to that and hope to find success soon. However, my arrangements here are not secure and whatever this scroll is, I don’t think it should fall into the wrong hands. That includes governmental fingers. You may have the best shot of unscrambling it, so I’m sending it to you for safe keeping there at Whateley. Hopefully I can get out to see you sooner rather than later, bringing with me an item that may hold the answers to all our questions. Stay safe - Nick

 

Holy shit. The date stamped on the envelope was marked four days ago. Before the synagogue in Aleppo exploded.

The rabbi and Circe were soon to arrive, and I had a feeling this scroll wasn’t something Nick wanted the rabbi to see as Kirov would likely report about it to others. So with a bit of haste I unrolled the thing, just to get a peek at it.

It was a good thing I was already sitting down. The small pages flowed with script in the same style and language that August had been using for her spells.

They shifted on the pages while I tried to read them, pulling perceptions towards a multiple-dimensional space. I could easily get lost within those symbols and all their complex and arcane meanings that lay tantalizingly close to comprehension.

But I didn’t have that kind of time right now, and worse I had no idea how long it was going to take to save Danielle. Provided we even succeeded and didn’t get our asses kicked by a nasty spirit or whatever was waiting out there.

With an impulsive decision, I re-wound the pages and shoved the scroll back into the envelope. Nick’s note got wedged into a pocket separately.

Zap had stood at my side just watching without commentary.

“C’mon. Let’s see if Jenna is still in.” I hopped up to run for the stairs. Zap followed.

Jenna’s room wasn’t that far from the stairwell and I banged on the door. “Jenna! You in there?”

When it opened I practically threw myself at her to give her a huge hug. If she’d been wearing one of her wigs it would have been knocked off. “Thank goodness.”

“What’s going on? Oh, hi Zap.”

“I don’t have much time,” I babbled. “I’ll have to sum up. Brendan says he’s sorry he yelled at you. The authorities are clearing you and Brendan of any possible charges from the attack by the lake. Tsáyidiel says he knows where Danielle’s spirit is and Zap and I are gonna go free her. Please get Penelope to take care of Khan while we’re gone, especially if it takes too long. And I need you to give this to August Rose, she’s a patient on Danielle’s floor over in Doyle. Tell her to not let anyone see or know anything about it, I mean that. But if anyone can make heads or tails of it, she can.” I shoved the envelope with the scroll into Jenna’s surprised hands. Then I hugged her again.

“Jordan, what?” Poor Jenna was bewildered. “Wait. What do you mean you and Zap are going to free Danielle. If you go, then I go too!”

I shook my head. “It’s somewhere in the spirit realms.”

She was crestfallen. “But I need to keep you safe.”

“Not this time. I’m sorry but I don’t think you can follow, hon. But if we don’t make it back, I want you to know you’ve been an awesome friend. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

“You have to come back, you hear? You have to because…” She was about to say something more, but blinked and just said, “because you do. You got that? Promise me.”

“I promise to do my best.”

She turned her attention to Zap. “You bring her home. Even if you have to knock her crazy stubborn butt out and carry her.”

He grinned. “That’s the plan.”

“Hey!” I looked at him with a scowl. He just grinned wider and shrugged.

Jenna held up the envelope. “And this goes to August. What is it?”

“Truthfully? I have absolutely no idea,” I said. “I’m hoping she’ll figure it out and I think she has a better chance at doing that than I do. But we need to get upstairs and get going. Oh. And give Evie a huge hug for me too, okay? I’d stop by her room too, but I think she’d never let me leave.”

“You could be right about that,” Jenna agreed. “I’m tempted to stop you as it is. But Zap has already saved your butt once, he can do it again if need be. So get going. And good luck!”

“Thanks! We’ll need it!” We hurried towards the stairs. As we got to the end of the hall, Jenna yelled out one last thing.

“Hey Jordan! God will be with you!”

My feet stumbled a step but kept onward.

~o~O~o~

A flash of lightning illuminated the balcony doors and the resulting crash of thunder shook the building. Circe, Rabbi Kirov, and Isaiah were all standing outside the triple circle within the attic.

Zap and I were inside it, and Zap was crawling onto my bed. He even gave me a wink that bordered on lecherous as he looked down at the fluffy blankets and back at me invitingly.

Yeah, it got me to laugh.

I had been expecting the teachers to object to our planned journey to the outer limits or wherever, but much like Mrs. Carson hadn’t neither Circe nor Rabbi Kirov tried to stop us or even objected. Circe wanted to be present to make sure any crossing over at Whateley didn’t inadvertently leave a door open to the other side, and Kirov, well, he just wanted to see me in full angelic form before I went.

Then again, short of locking me up in a room warded much stronger than the detention center had been before I casually blew it open, I’m not sure that they could have stopped me. So there was that.

Isaiah, however, was clearly not happy about any of it and had pulled me aside as soon as he arrived.

“This is insane!” he had said angrily, but quietly enough to keep the others from hearing.

“Yeah, probably,” I replied. “But our options are…what exactly?”

“It’s too risky. You’re still untrained. Learn control first, then go.”

I sighed. “Yes, Yoda, I hear you.”

He scowled at me, like usual.

“Look,” I said. “Tsáyidiel has explained that time works different there than here. If we wait, that could mean losing all opportunity. And maybe losing her forever.”

“It’s a trap. You know this, right? Your new angel friend was fallen. You can’t trust him.”

“You said it yourself, dude. If he’s in on some scheme, he’ll at least lead us to her. And I’m taking Zap with me - who is being sent by Ra and Anubis.”

His expression darkened further. “Pagan deities both. Not necessarily allies.”

Before he could say anything more, I pulled him into a tight hug. “I’ll be okay, bro. If there is a higher plan to believe in, then this is where it’s leading.”

He had stiffened sharply under the embrace but slowly melted and ceased his protests.

So now I was staring at Zap as he lay back upon my bed. For some reason it was rather distracting. “Uh, I think I know how I’m going to cross over to get to Tsáyidiel, but what are you planning to do?”

Zap rearranged pillows under his long hair. “Anubis is just going to yoink my spirit across. He says it shouldn’t hurt…much. You get to go first.”

“Well, I’m going to try and get to the spirit place in my dreams. I’ll, uh, hold it open for you.”

“Sounds good.”

A nudge at my ankle gave a reminder that I needed to say goodbye to my dearest fluffy friend too. I picked him up, scritching between his ears. “You be good while I’m gone, ya big lug.” Khan stared at me with his green eyes, then squirmed clearly wanting down.

Releasing my hold he jumped from my arms right onto the bed, going over to curl up next to Zap. He yawned widely and settled further in.

Heh. Sleep well, little buddy.

Giving a last nod and farewell to our three witnesses, I let go of the reins holding back the flood of light within my spirit.

The room lit up in perfect synchronization with another flash of lightning and I sighed from the inner pressure’s release flowing outward into wings waiting to take form.

The boom of thunder a moment later rattled the doors. But what those doors showed had already shifted to a different scene altogether: rock, ocean, clouds, and sand now waited behind the glass.

As did a kneeling angel whose wings were dark opposites to my own.

Steadying my nerves, I stepped through willing myself to move completely from here to there, leaving nothing behind. The transition went a lot smoother than I expected.

With just a thought, I was there.

Chapter 12 - Names

Jenna, holding the manila envelope hidden under her raincoat, knocked on the frame of the open door politely.

A cheery voice called out, “Come in!”

Stepping inside, Jenna made sure the door closed fully behind her. “Sorry to bother you, but you’re August, right?”

The slender girl on the bed grinned. “That’s what it says on my wristband!”

“I’m, uh, a friend of Jordan’s.” Jenna stepped to the bedside.

“Dang,” August said as she noted how Jenna’s coat was dripping water everywhere. “It’s really storming outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Cats and dogs, mass hysteria. The wind is going bonkers. I almost lost my…uhm, nevermind.” She’d been about to say she almost lost her wig in the tempest, but fortunately the glue had held. She’d have to thank the gadgeteer who’d made the improved formula later, come to think of it.

“So, friend of Jordan’s? She need something?” Questioning eyes peered at Jenna from behind the horn-rimmed glasses.

“Yeah, actually. She wanted me to give you this.” Pulling out the envelope, checking first that it had stayed dry, Jenna handed it carefully to the other girl.

August frowned. “What’s this?”

Jenna shrugged. “I don’t know, and Jordan said she didn’t either. Only that you might figure it out. Oh, she also said no one else was to know about it. Are any nurses or doctors going to come in here any time soon?”

The brown-haired girl shook her head. “Nah, I just ate and while they say I’m fine they’re still holding me until the morning just because. Everyone seems really spooked about whatever has been going on.”

Taking a seat in the visitor’s chair, Jenna sighed. “Yeah. I was grilled on things early this morning. Other than Jordan mentioning in passing that I was clear of the government going after me, that’s all I know.”

“The government? What exactly happened?”

“I…I’d rather not talk about it. You gonna open that thing or what?”

August shrugged, though she was clearly disappointed at not getting details. “Sure. Hey, is that Arabic?” As she pried the envelope open the scroll popped out into her hand. “Huh. This looks old.”

Leaning closer, Jenna said, “Yeah it does. Handle it carefully.”

Unraveling the pages onto her lap, August’s eyes ballooned. “Oh wow.”

“What? What is it?” Jenna tried to look, but every time she tried to focus on a page the writing wriggled and she’d find herself looking at the blanket instead. Her eyes started to burn and itch from the effort.

“It’s my writing,” August said in awe. “Not literally, but it’s in my language. The one I made up!”

“It looks older than you are. How?”

“Jordan has this theory. That I’m an angel too.”

“Wait, what?”

August shuffled the pages around as if aligning them better. “I know! Cool right? But she was starting to read my spell-books. Which is totally awesome! No one’s been able to do that before.”

“Huh. Guess that explains why she wanted you to have these. What do they say?” Whatever it was, Jenna was sure it was important.

“It’s weird,” August said. “It’s like a list.”

“A list? Of what?”

“Names.”

“Whose names? Jordan’s? Yours?”

August wasn’t listening. Her eyes devoured the text, rapidly scanning over the symbols as manifested, falling deeper into the true script extending far beyond the pages themselves. In a new voice, one much older and full of heartfelt sorrow, she began to recite.

“Batarel, Araqiel, Kokabiel, Ramiel…”

The papers glowed with golden light, a shine echoed within August’s eyes.

“August?” Jenna said, with growing alarm. “Hey, August?”

The other girl kept reciting. “…Barakiel, Shemhazai, Ananel, Sariel…”

“Dammit, August, snap out of it!” Not knowing what else to do, Jenna let her stone-skin flow over her hand before trying to grab at one of the glowing pages.

Grey fingers slipped right through to the blanket below. The pages brightened even further as they floated into the air, hovering before the girl still reading their contents…and much more.

“…Zadkiel, Armaros, Penemue, Yeqon…my brothers, my sisters, and your children all…”

“WAKE UP!” Jenna shouted.

With a flash, the pages burst into golden flame to fly directly into August’s eyes, passing straight through the glasses perched delicately on her nose. Her irises pulsed in response with that golden light and the lenses exploded outward, scattering shards across the room.

Jenna, stone skin impervious to the tiny sharp fragments, grabbed the girl’s shoulders. “August? August!”

There was no response. The girl had passed out.

In a panic, Jenna lunged for the room’s call button.

“NURSE! HELP!”

From down the hall footsteps could be heard coming at a run while outside another deep boom of thunder echoed mightily across the campus. Hailstones bombarded the windows to announce the storm’s growing fury.

Light's Promise (Part 4 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 13 - Beacon

Tsáyidiel knelt upon the stone with two sets of dark wings covering an otherwise bare and human back. The air was warm, and the bright sunless sky stretched above with fluffy clouds hinting at towers and walls. The grass tickling at bare toes was the first indication that my attire had changed.

One look and it was decided that if the subconscious had chosen this outfit, me and her were going to have a chat. At length.

Gone was the Whateley skirt and blouse. In their place was a thin lavender toga-like dress, two matching pieces of cloth rising from the waist to (mostly) cover my modesty held in place by straps connecting behind the neck which left the back uncovered and granting full freedom to the wings. A braided cord of gold around the waist completed the look.

No bra so everything was, shall we say, bouncing freely, and the gentle breeze provided confirmation to having gone entirely commando under the skirt.

The sound of feathers heralded the arrival of a winged humanoid Zap. If I hadn’t seen his spirit before I wouldn’t have recognized him: tall with well-proportioned muscle and bronzed skin, the long darker hair blending into the feathers. He looked older and much more serious than his boyish student-self. He stood comfortably and at ease in a simple tan loincloth and sandals. Beaded bracelets decorated the wrists, the one on the left even had a set of small dangling charms. While he had no shirt, draped around his neck was a wide necklace of gold beset with multi-colored gems culminating in an Eye of Horus resting against the bare chest. And yes, his two golden hawk-like eyes were surrounded by the traditional black makeup put on everyone in those Ancient Egypt documentaries. Add in the brown and white wings of a hawk and he was quite an impressive sight.

Which is probably why I didn’t notice the white tiger until it forcefully shoved its face into my hip.

“Gah!” I spluttered, wings flapping in alarm. But both Zap and Tsáyidiel were undisturbed by the tiger’s presence. The tiger for its part sat on the rock and began nonchalantly cleaning a huge paw.

Zap, in a voice much deeper than usual, commented. “It would appear your companion wishes to join us as well.”

My companion? The tiger paused its grooming to stare with large green eyes. Wait a second, I knew those eyes, and those black and white markings…

“Khan!” Dropping closer I pulled the huge fluffy head into a hug. “Buddy! How the heck?”

Clearly amused, Zap smiled. “Your cat’s spirit is full of surprises. But it is not uncommon for familiars to dreamwalk with their owners.”

Tiger-Khan rubbed my face (and neck and shoulder) with his own, the larger and more wiry whiskers brushing exposed skin. Grinning widely, I scritched the bigger but still soft ears and a really deep rumbling purr resonated under my fingers.

Tsáyidiel’s eyes narrowed at the tiger, but he offered no objection when he spoke. “Come, my lady. Time is passing even more quickly at our destination. If your…feline is to travel, it appears you will need to carry him. We should travel by wing and not by foot if we are to take the quickest path.” He gave a bow towards Zap. “Also, greetings Prince Heru. Your appearance is a welcome surprise.”

Zap acknowledged Tsáyidiel with a curt nod. With how he held himself and spoke he appeared more Heru than Zap but I resolved to call him Zap regardless. Before we left he’d warned me to stick to our codenames whenever possible because, as he put it, in spirit places you never knew who was listening. The ground itself could be aware and taking notes.

Speaking of the ground and being stuck upon it, I contemplated the mighty Tiger-Khan. He was now far too large for me to carry. Sure I had the strength to probably do it, but not only would I be unable to see where I was going it would also look ridiculous. “Er, how is carrying him supposed to work?”

Without waiting for an answer Khan tensed and pounced. Holy crap! Bracing to be knocked on my ass, it was quite a shock when little feet landed on a shoulder instead, a small voice mewing into an ear. The crazy cat had become kitten-sized! With little claws he dug in to his perch alongside my neck.

You have to understand, I’d gotten him from a shelter when he was on the verge of adulthood so I’d never seen him so tiny. He was adorable! It took Zap clearing his throat meaningfully to get me to realize I’d been standing there for over a minute cooing and petting the kitten’s little face like, well…like a schoolgirl.

Oops.

“Right, uh, we follow you?” I asked Tsáyidiel, trying to hide my embarrassment. Tsáyidiel inclined his head seriously but Zap chuckled. I cut him a look. “Hush.”

That only made him laugh more.

Tsáyidiel turned to the dream ocean, spreading four midnight wings. “We go.” Leaping off the cliff those feathers caught the air, his image shimmering into that of a raven riding the updraft lifting him higher.

Zap gestured towards the cliff and water below and said, “After you.” With a cheeky grin he added, “My lady.” Geeze.

With one last check that the purring Khan-kitten was secure, I stretched my wings searching not for air movement, but for flows of energies. Gaining purchase with feathers and will, I rose to catch the raven above.

The shrill cry of a hawk beneath let me know that Zap was close behind.

~o~O~o~

We flew between worlds.

The experience was surreal. Without the line of power connecting me to Tsáyidiel I would have been incredibly lost and marooned in some random pocket realm or dimension, likely unable to figure out which way was up let alone how to find my way home.

The raven led us through landscape after landscape, the scenery flowing into each other with smooth yet abrupt transitions. From across that first brilliant sky over endless ocean the view quickly shifted and we were soaring past mountains of thick forests caught in that first breath of spring thaw, the air so still you could hear individual feathers as they moved. Melting ice cracked and popped on those hillsides, the echoing canyons turning each sound into a multitude.

As our guide swooped lower towards a valley, all moisture was swallowed by dust clouds now rising from a desert overflowing with fine and powdery yellowish sand. No plants, but under that lemony surface shapes moved, rippling patterns revealing their passing.

Get used to one scene and another would take its place. Green sheet lightning tearing through ivory blue clouds, rain and ice howling the thunder, all instantly replaced with cracked dry earth where twisted blackened trees clawed towards three oblong moons hanging low and silent before a rosy sunrise. Warmth became cold became wet became sticky hot until merely warm yet again.

Not all vistas were natural - or unnatural. We flew over mud-walled huts forming scattered settlements, over fortresses forged from violet stones, and over fields of planted tentacled creatures who sang songs of surrender to the peace offered by the imminent harvest coming to take their lives. The words were unrepeatable, but I understood their haunting lyrics as the disturbing embrace of the serenity of death rang clear.

Tsáyidiel turned without visible reason, rising and falling in response to a path only he could discern. Holding on to that spirit tether between us like a lifeline, I kept checking to make sure Zap was keeping up. I shouldn’t have worried. If anything he tilted and swung back and forth in the air as if bored with our lack of speed. I had a feeling we could all fly faster, especially when in places without crazy weather, but Tsáyidiel maintained a deliberate pace. Perhaps he was proceeding with caution.

A city of emerald glass and sparking blue steel dropped away and we flew past ruins carved into a rocky plinth that sat underneath a vast clear expanse showing billions of twinkling stars, spinning galaxies, and brilliantly gorgeous nebulae. The crimson blended into purplish blues, each star brighter than the last, the entire vista like those amazing deep space pictures except these stellar objects seemed closer and more immediate. Stretch forth a hand and you could pluck a burning star right out of the sky.

The view was absolutely breathtaking. The radiance of each and every sun called out, urging me to join them, to shine for the simple sake of shining, and to exult in the illuminating dance set in motion since the beginning of all things. Their fires spun across the eons, singing of the sheer indomitable glory of existence itself.

And I wanted to sing with them. I needed to sing. For I too was here, I too knew the ecstasy of the light burning within and spilling outward to form all matter, all energy, all thought, and all love. I could sing, I could shine, and I could be one with the all. The power waiting to burst into song burned in my heart with the need to shout across the universe.

All I had to do was reach for it, and I too could be a shining star within that tapestry of light.

Lips gently pressed against mine. Zap, no longer a hawk, was kissing me, pulling me back from the call of uncountable stars. The kiss was tender yet fierce, revealing its own buried inner need that the energies already summoned could not ignore. Instead of blazing outward to the edges of all things, the fire poured directly into him like a bolt of lightning finding the shortest route to ground.

The resulting ecstatic burst banished all coherency as the universal sky spun wildly about with the surge’s release. When the senses finally coalesced I was held tenderly within his arms while we floated high above a star-lit mountaintop, shattered stones bouncing down the hillsides having been knocked free by the concussive wave of the overwhelming brilliance we had just unleashed.

I didn’t care that later I’d be embarrassed and freaked out about being kissed by a guy. Here, lost within the shining cosmos, that didn’t matter.

Zap tried to say something but was interrupted by my glowing finger tracing softly across his cheek. He was radiant too. Not as golden-white like I was, but with this silvery-blue electricity flowing across his feathers. He was beautiful.

I giggled at the idea of painting him with different colored lights like purple or even green. Maybe orange? Oh dear. I was drunk. Although unlike previous alcohol-fueled benders which always turned me maudlin and introspective, this intoxication was a pure and giddy feeling.

For the first time in over a month I felt happy and free.

Zap’s expression was unfathomable. With an unreadable yet gentle smile he quietly pulled himself away.

Tsáyidiel’s voice cut through the reverie. “You’ve attracted attention, my lady.” His words were careful, trying to keep both reproach and envy from his tone without success. The raven flew closer and shifted to a humanoid form.

Three shooting stars streamed across the sky from a corner of that awesome horizon, except instead of flaring out and disappearing their path curved to head straight towards us.

“Are we in danger?” I asked, pretending to refocus and sober up. The silly grin still stuck on my cheeks made it not very convincing.

“I hope not,” Tsáyidiel replied. “But I would still advise caution. We should land upon the peak.”

Zap flew me down to alight upon the mountain top before setting me carefully on my feet. Once sure I wasn’t going to topple sideways from my drunken state, he faced the incoming meteors, placing himself between them and me. Whatever aftereffects he may have been experiencing himself from what just happened, he seemed instantly solid and prepared: both tense and relaxed at the same time. Though tense wasn’t quite right, he was just immensely focused and wary.

And here I was, wanting to pout because we should have been able to enjoy the moment. I felt the kitten move to the back of my neck, burrowing under all the loose hair draping over the tops of the wings. Huh, was he hiding from nervousness or strategy? Feeling him rustle under my hair got me pondering what hairstyle I was currently sporting, for it certainly hadn’t been falling in my eyes. After patting a few places around my head (careful not to disturb the little guy!) it was determined to be in a simple French braid using entwined bangs to form a circlet before tying behind and falling over the rest hanging free. It was much like I’d been trying to do for myself lately, but this was tighter and more skillfully done. Zap glanced back with a raised eyebrow, obviously wondering what in the heck I was doing. I just shrugged and gave him another silly smile. Yep, I was still completely inebriated. It was all I could do to not run fingers along the feathers of his outstretched wings right there in front of me just to see how they’d feel. Maybe if I charged up my fingertips as I did that would be more fun…oops. Focus, incoming unknown entities! Possible danger! But it would be…C’mon! Focus!

Argh! I wanted to take things seriously, but nope. Reality had left the building, or rather we had left Reality far behind.

Those streaming lights resolved into three winged beings rapidly approaching, only to slow down to land at a respectful and careful twenty yards distance. One had the form of a tremendous condor: reddish pink face and extremely broad white feathers ringed with black. The second was even bigger, like a ten foot tall bodybuilder that had been as thick as a truck before even starting to hit a regular gym. Overly massive muscles bulged under black leather skin and the thick neck supported a head that was a cross between a bull and man. The chest flexed mightily to the beat of wings closely matching Zap’s in color, although maybe twice the size. The third newcomer however was a slender woman with the head of a golden-beige lioness, soft fur covering the rest of her toned and agile-looking body.

Neither the lioness lady nor the towering wall of muscle wore any clothing. Not that it seemed to bother them any. For that matter, it didn’t seem to bother me either. Huh.

What was the most baffling was not how they looked or lack of coverings but how they felt. I wanted to reach out and touch them, for within each I sensed a kinship. They were family. We had never met and yet the knowledge was undeniable. It wasn’t the energy drunkenness talking either, though perhaps that was keeping me from suppressing the sharp instinct.

The lioness spoke first in a strong yet feminine voice, bowing deeply towards me as she did so. “Lady Gabriel, the Throne has commanded your return.”

Zap threw me a puzzled look and I was about to reply with my own confusion when mister muscles interrupted out of his own surprise. “This is not Gabriel.”

Growling an instant temper, the lioness snarled at her companion. “Of course she is, Gadiel. We all felt…” She cut herself short as she took a longer look at me that ended in uncertainty. “What is this?” Her gaze quickly turned to take in the two beings hovering protectively before me. Amber eyes widened. “Tsáyidiel, is that you?”

My raven-panther angel lowered his beak politely. “It is, Hizkiel. I greet you and my brethren Kerubim.”

Mister muscles rumbled loudly from deep within his throat. “Tsáyidiel is no more. He fell into darkness.”

The condor shrieked, its feathers rustling nervously while the crinkled black and pink head darted about trying to scan the area. “This could be a ruse, an illusion…”

Putting a hand on Tsáyidiel’s shoulder, I moved forwards between my companions. “It is no ruse,” I pronounced. “Beloved Tsáyidiel has been purified within the light, the glory of his name restored!” Beloved? Glory of his name? What the heck was I saying!

The lioness exhaled past sharp fangs, “Impossible.”

Again the condor emitted a piercing cry. “Neither he nor she are of the Host. They are not linked to the Throne, beware!”

“And yet what I say is true,” I declared with a surety and confidence coming from I knew not where. “Examine him and see the truth shining within!”

With a commanding gesture from me, Tsáyidiel stepped halfway between our groups and his shape shifted to a man huddled nervously under pairs of wings. The condor did not move but the other two approached, walking slowly up to their former brother. Gadiel reached out to gently touch a covering wing while Hizkiel placed both hands upon Tsáyidiel’s bare chest.

The space around them rippled as their true names pinged between them like silver rods in a singing windchime. Three notes resonated mightily before merging into a single transcendent harmonic chord. It left no doubt that they were made to sublimely chime together.

Hizkiel’s gaped in outright shock. Gadiel, voice now loud and joyful, wrapped arms wider than tree trunks around Tsáyidiel pulling him into a tight embrace, lifting the smaller Kerub off the ground. “Brother!” he shouted. “But how can this be?”

Tsáyidiel, equally overcome with emotion, tried to point back towards me with a trapped arm and hand. “The light, the Source. It shines through her and in its grace was I set free.”

The fur near Hizkiel’s eyes darkened with wetness and she asked me, “Who are you, that you could do such a thing?”

Confidence slipped away as confusion crept in. “I…I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Gadiel, not releasing his brother from the embrace, spoke. “Your name. Tell us, please.”

I stammered. I knew what they wanted, and while I could have answered ‘Jordan’, that would not be the truth they sought.

Tsáyidiel disentangled himself, keeping a hand on his brother. “Her name has yet to announce itself. She is newly born.”

The condor hissed while the other two exchanged glances.

“You both should be brought to the city, to the Throne,” said Gadiel earnestly, his booming words echoing back from the canyons below. “The first new sibling after countless cycles? A lost brother restored from darkness? Why, this news deserves to be shouted from the tops of the tallest spires! Come!”

Zap cleared his throat loudly and took a step forward. “Such is not feasible.”

All eyes turned to him. Hizkiel grinned in friendly recognition, revealing sharp fangs. “Lord Heru! Long has it also been since you flew alongside us. Forgive our manners for not acknowledging you, we are just…”

“Overwhelmed?” Zap said with a polite smile. “That is understandable. But I must insist that these two forgo any journey to your city of silver and gold at this time. They are pledged to a quest of mercy.”

Gadiel’s large brown eyes narrowed. “Surely no mission could ever be as important?”

Zap touched the Eye of Horus upon his chest, causing it to brighten and beam forth with the light of the dawning sun. “I bear Ra’s mark and must complete the task he has given. It still lies before us and not behind; without them at my side I would fail in the duties assigned.”

Hizkiel regarded him for a long evaluating moment, before inclining her head with respect. “We would not wish to cause a quest given you by your Lord and King to fail.”

Rumbling low in his throat, Gadiel protested in dismay, “But such wondrous news, we should not delay!”

Tsáyidiel quickly posed a question. “Are you three commanded to find the Archangel Gabriel?”

“Yes,” Gadiel answered, “such was the mission as ordered by our captain. But he would understand if we-”

Hizkiel stopped him with an upheld paw-hand. “Peace, brother. But the Hunter’s question makes a valid point. We have our own commission to fulfill.” She glanced towards the unhappy condor. “And Ruhiel would be correct to declaim any diversion from our assigned purpose.”

The condor, Ruhiel, rasped, “We should kill them and do it now. Their illusion is infecting you both!”

“Silence, Ruhiel!” Hizkiel growled forcefully, causing the condor to shrink back. “There is no illusion, only grace-granted miracles! We shall finish our sweep for the Lady Gabriel and report to Kerubiel our encounter here today. Nothing more. Should our captain wish to pursue matters further, that will be up to him. Understand?”

Ruhiel, wings pulling in defensively, nodded his bird-shaped head.

“If it helps you any,” I said to the lioness, “I saw Gabriel just over a month ago within a pocket dream realm of hers. It lies somewhere near, well, near Earth. It is a place of ocean, cliff, and sky. Raphael knows of this as well. I hope she is alright.”

“We thank you for the information, Lady. And we look forward to the day when your name is proclaimed before the Throne and you take your proper place among us. Until then, keep that one safe,” she said, pointing to Tsáyidiel. “It would be a shame for him to be lost twice.” Her toothy grin grew even wider.

Tsáyidiel looked towards the ground sheepishly.

With a final nod to Zap, she declared, “Fare well, Lord Heru! Honor and Glory to you and your family! Success to you as well, Lady of Light!” With that, she took to the sky with Gadiel and Ruhiel following. The three transformed back into shooting stars and streamed towards the horizon.

Zap shouted his response as they went. “Honor and Glory to the Kerubim! Hunt well!”

Tsáyidiel sighed quietly as he watched them go. Once they had twinkled out of sight, he straightened his shoulders and said to Zap, “We should move on. They are not likely to be the only ones to have spotted her shining beacon. We must rely on speed and not stealth, for our lady - whether she wishes or no - blazes a path across the cosmos.”

“I do not mind the brightness,” Zap said, giving me a teasing smile. “But I agree. Lead on.”

Yep, I had been right. Now that the whole energy after-glow had faded away, I found myself blushing furiously and feeling massively conflicted. Khan-kitten, emerging from his hair-covered refuge, put a paw against my cheek as if offering reassurance. He settled back on my shoulder and dug in with a firm grip. He was ready.

Whether I was or not, I flew after the departing raven as before, trying to shove confused thoughts and emotions aside as best I could. This time instead of the shriek of a hawk following behind there was a warm-hearted laugh instead.

Dangit, he was probably getting a full view of my butt from our flying positions. Remembering that there was nothing under my skirt, I wished fervently that I could shift into a bird too. Though given all his time as a hawk, he’d probably enjoy that view too!

Double gah!

Chapter 14 - Restoration

I had lost count of the number of realms and vistas we passed through when Tsáyidiel called out, “We are here.”

Okay, that’s not entirely true. I’m sure if I wished I could replay each and every distinct realm within the exemplar-enhanced perfect memory and mechanically count them all. But nah. Just take my word that there were a lot of them.

Spiraling down out of the glitter-strewn tapestry of night covering the newest scene, the raven led us low over a dark lake with calm waters perfectly reflecting the glory of the distant constellations above. It was all so beautiful until we reached ruins at the edge of the lake and saw the devastation of the shore.

Where once a mighty forest stood, only stumps and black rotting twigs and branches remained. Between the water and shattered trees lurked an abandoned structure of once-mighty standing stones, taller than those found at Stonehenge back on Earth. They spread out in a semi-circle like arms welcoming the lake within their embrace. Except these arms were broken, large chunks of the indigo stones had embedded themselves within the mud lining the lake bottom far below their former proud heights.

Tsáyidiel perched upon the capstone at the center and I followed. Khan jumped down from my shoulder to join the raven, becoming a full sized tiger as he did and shaking himself out upon landing.

Light from my wings washed over the stones as I moved closer to examine them. Each was covered with carvings seemingly Celtic in design, yet other unknown symbols mixed sporadically across the patterns. Again without thought I could read something totally foreign, the meanings of the carved sigils simply obvious as if written in my native tongue.

The whole edifice had comprised a single poem celebrating the wonders of the natural world: her lush trees of plenty, her kaleidescope flowery pastures, the airborne dances of birds and insects, and all the creatures both mundane and mystical walking, singing, and living in harmony within her rich splendor. But now the poem lay scattered, fading at the brackish water’s end.

The smell of rot and decay was overwhelming, especially near the ground where I was trying to read one of the last of the fallen stones.

“This is where Danielle’s spirit went?” I asked Tsáyidiel.

The raven tilted his bird’s head with expressionless black eyes. “The trail through the realms led first to here, and from here to a fortified keep occupied by a force of fae. Her presence seems strongest under the keep where dungeons are likely to be found. Attempting an immediate extraction would have been impossible without attracting notice, especially without your energetic support. Skilled I may be, but a garrison of fae would prove difficult to overcome to secure her release.”

“Fae,” I said. Poor Danielle. Her spirit had somehow ended up here and, even though she was a sidhe, instead of welcoming her Tsáyidiel believed the fae had taken her prisoner. “What could have happened here?” I wondered aloud, for it wasn’t just the stench that was getting to me. The entire place oozed a deep and awful lingering despair.

Or maybe that was just my own feelings of worry.

“Aye, now that be a tale,” said a voice piping up from behind a stone. “Though methinks not the most happiest.”

Zap was in front of me in an instant, one arm held across my stomach as if warding it, the other extended towards the voice. I must have blinked because I hadn’t seen him move. Wow. Tiger-Khan had also jumped down from his lofty perch and was silently stalking the newcomer’s position.

“Who speaks?” Zap demanded. His human head flickered for a moment, the proud hawk’s visage blending into view.

“I?” answered the voice with a chirp. “Why, sir, I am but Bristlebeak, at your service!”

Pushing Zap aside (earning me a dirty look), I cast out more light to reveal a small bramble of twigs lurking upon one of the smaller fragments. I flinched when the twigs suddenly moved, revealing that it had little legs, and arms, and uh…yep, a beak much like a toucan’s thrusting forward from the collection forming its head. Little pale yellow sparks danced where eyes should have been.

“And, dear sir, never has a beak of bristles ever been so fine, if I do say so myself!” The little thing chuckled and did a little dance in a circle on the stone.

“Uhm, hi?” I said to the…to it.

Tiny will-o-wisp eyes peered up, and darn me if they didn’t somehow grow bigger. “Ooh! Greetings, lady!” He gave a twiggy formal bow, which I awkwardly returned much to his delight. “Such fairness! Ach, and you were the one wondering the story of this here temple, if I am not mistaken and my name is indeed Bristlebeak as I have attested befores.”

I exchanged a look with Zap who remained defensively on guard. Khan, however, paused and sat amidst several scorched weeds as if perfectly content to wait and see what would happen next.

“Yes, that was me,” I said carefully. “Could you share the story with us?” It might be useful to know more before dealing with those who had kidnapped my niece. Even if I was busily mentally wondering if the four of us could blow down any walls in our way, grab her, and safely escape. Very tempting.

“You wouldn’t, perchance have hidden somewhere - mayhaps in your bodice? - any gooseberries, would you?” the oddly nosed mobile bramble-bush asked. “Though it would be fair to say that, should there be such lurking within your intimates, it would be awfully impolite for them to remain a gooseberry!” The wide beak bobbed up and down with intense merriment.

“I, uh…what? And no, I have no berries.”

“Sadness,” he sighed wistfully. “They used to grow here, you know, and I used to eat them by the handful right over yonder.” A twiggy finger pointed to a spot of barren ground a dozen yards away from the ruins. “Their flavor truly burst all savory within a beak, if you must know. But if you have none, then no trade is to be had, and thus no tale to pass the time. Ach, well, unfortunate but such is the way.” He shrugged.

Zap leaned close and I thought he was going to try to warn me about the creature. Instead he whispered, “Give him some of your light. Something berry-sized.”

I stared at him dumbfounded. How would I do that?

He rolled his eyes as if I was clueless, totally not earning him any brownie points. Oh geeze, what if the bristle beak thing was a real fae brownie of some kind? Zap quickly whispered, “You’re in a dream-realm, not the physical world. Treat it as such.”

Huh. That actually made a weird kind of sense. Cupping open hands together, I let the light flare briefly with the intention of focusing it down while visualizing a small glowing golden grape.

I almost dropped the sudden manifestation into the muck below from sheer surprise. Holding it up it looked exactly as I had envisioned. It even had little brighter fractal lines inside like the veins of a grape. Wow! “Would a…a lightberry do?” I asked Bristlebeak.

“A lightberry? Well now, that’s an entirely different matter altogether!” He rubbed his twigs, err, hands together gleefully. “Unusual and rare, but possibly quite tasty. Why, I can smell the brilliance from here!” He eagerly reached for the small glowing orb, scrambling over the stones to get closer.

I pulled it back. “In exchange for the story of this place and our questions answered after.”

“Yes, yes, though after the break of dawn no further questions, and I get to taste the berry first!”

Remembering Circe giving Danielle a warning about not making any promises she didn’t intend to carry out due to the binding power of such upon those of the fae, I agreed. “Very well, we have an agreement.” I placed the berry-like orb into an excited collection of grabby twigs.

No sooner did he get take hold was it instantly popped into his beak with a loud chomp and swallow. “Ooh, now that, my lady, that is a fine berry indeed!” Tendrils of light swirled into the depths of his bristles, shifting color from gold to a paler yellow matching eyes now burning with greater intensity. He flickered there, in the darkness by the lake, little pulses of color sparking from within. And he became more solid, more real. Hard to describe, but he was just…more ‘there’ than he had been before.

He swooned. “Why, I daresay never have I had such a sweetness! A lick of light, like tasting a star! For this I would offer you tales until the full turning of the moon!”

Zap shook his head. He was right, we didn’t have that kind of time. I said, “Just of this place, kind Bristlebeak. For our time is lamentably short.”

“Ach, well, the customer is never right, of course. Or is it the other way around? The shopkeeper is never left? Hmm, wouldn’t that imply the shops have to be all on the same side? Seems odd, if you ask me. Or maybe even. Very confusing. But yes! The tale of the Temple.” The little guy plopped himself down to sit, thorny branches scraping along the rock as his legs settled into place.

Zap crossed his arms, giving Bristlebeak his full attention. As did I, though I politely put my arms behind my back instead while offering the little fae creature a smile of encouragement.

Bristlebeak cleared a knotted throat and began.

 

So the Temple you see was once…wait, no, that’s no proper way to start a story! What would Mrs. Bristlebeak say if she heard me open a tale with such a pathetic line. Why, Mrs. Bristlebeak - if I were not a confirmed bachelor, mind you - would properly admonish me and chase me about the kitchen glade throwing her bristles and thorns in annoyance. Which, of course, is a good reason to be a bachelor if you ask me!

Do you have any idea how hard it is to pick out someone else’s bristles from the midst of your own? ‘Tis a darn tricky thing! Why, I must admit, if one were to ask, that I still have a few remnants from the time when Bristlefang got snippy, as he does, and challenged me to a wrestling contest. There was quite the conundrum of whose bits were whose when that unpleasantness was over, let me tell you!

Oh. Just the one story? Yes, yes…

In the glorious past when we fae once frolicked happily within the glens and forests of the world, the Mother was awake, and in her tender care we flourished. Oh how we danced and sang and…did other things not appropriately mentioned in front of such a fine company as yourselves. Unless you care to hear? No?

Ahem.

And the realms of magic and the realms of mortals stood side by side, indeed like a proper ocean tide didst one side blend into the other as the sea caresses the firmament where water kisses the sand.

It was a happy time, oh such happiness! The revels, the music, the passions! Tis a giddy memory, though many have forgotten. But Bristlebeak remembers! Oh yes, he remembers…

The sidhe - those among us who believed they were more powerful than the others and thus deserving of special attentions like being called all these various formal titles, demanding the rest of us follow and do the silly tasks they kept shouting about, that kind of thing - decided, well some of them did anyway, that Mother was too important to be allowed to do things as only She pleased. Thus they formed a priesthood where they would sing and chant and dance, hoping Mother would pay attention and grant them favors. Sometimes she did, she really did!

All over the world and within the dreams that snugged all close to it - like one would to a soft blanket of doe’s fur on a brisk autumn morning when the dew debates with the icicles whether it was time for a proper freeze - did they go and build these temples. They built many a temple such as the one where you are standing…err, hovering.

We didn’t mind, of course, because if the Mother was happy, why so were we!

But the sidhe, sitting in their towers and playing at their competitions with one another, they got themselves into a right tiff and broke off into several branches, which believe you me is a very painful thing to do and not something I’d recommend as it makes a right mess of splinters! They even drafted the other mythical beings into their arguments and divisions.

All of which led to things getting right awful. Many perished from the famine of essence that resulted, for the Mother, despairing at the antics and state of things, fell into a deep sleep. No longer did her love flow across the mortal plane, making living there rather tricky, as only at certain spots had her previous love collected enough for us to survive.

So we gathered around those places, and wouldn’t you know it, most of ‘em had these temples at their centers.

Now, back in a time when I was still contemplating finding myself a lovely bristle-wife - for you see wisdom had not yet set in and I was daft as well as drafty - the sidhe gathered as many of us as they could, warning that we all must retreat to refuge within the dreamspaces. For we had to flee - and flee quickly, mind you - as they claimed there was no time to consider or even discuss the matter, which was awfully impolite. Abandon one’s home without even taking the time to sip tea or munch a gooseberry with which to give it a good thinking? Unheard of!

They explained, hurriedly of course, that a terrible spell was soon to sweep over the mortal realms, and should any of the fair folk be caught within its grasp, why, they’d be transformed into something horrible forever. Something with a fixed amount of fingers and toes, without any brambles or even a proper beak! Humans, they said. We’d all become humans.

I shudder at the mere thought. Ach! No magic, no spark, no beak? Awful.

‘Twas a mad scramble through the brambles, trying to get everyone across. Some of us made it to this place, which was in those shining days called Arcadia. Though, if I were an honest Bristlebeak, it would need be admitted that many happy places were called Arcadia in those times. We few who managed the crossing counted ourselves quite lucky. For Mother’s sleeping dreams had kept this place strong and its heart was still vibrant and full.

Alas, ‘twould not remain so.

The sidhe priests and priestesses, those who had survived their wars and the sundering, numbered only a handful when the Spell of Final Doom arrived. That’s the name I gave it, I think it has a nice ring, don’t you? Doooom. Yes! Because it was. Our doom, that is. Those sidhe who were pledged to the Mother remained behind to hold the gates open as long as they could as the last of us tried to scamper across with arms and tails and backs laden with whatever we could carry.

They sacrificed themselves, did the entire priesthood, and all were thereby cursed to be mortals. We owe them a debt, I daresay one which we can never repay, for the Spell of Final Doom hangs still between the worlds and their spirits - once so proud and nobly free - remain trapped in lives mundane without even the magic of a good barrows-dance.

Ach, but the Doom still hunts us all. For the Mother no longer dreams of beloved Arcadia and her temple has fallen to ruin. Without its heart being renewed, the power of this place has faded into rot, crumbling beyond repair. Soon the outer dark will reclaim all. And while legends claim there are still pockets of fae within the world of mortals, whose guardian spirits were strong enough to keep the Doom at bay beyond their borders, we cannot breach the barriers that separate us and reach their rumored sanctums.

The sidhe that lurk still in their fortress say not to fret and that a solution will be found, but as Bristlebeak was not born yesterday nor the day before that nor even the day before the day before, why, they can pledge themselves with all the words their tongues can utter, but when the Heart of Arcadia pumps its last of the magic we all shall tumble either into that darkness or into the mundane binding flesh of humanity.

And that is where you stand, good travelers. Within the ruins of the last Temple built here in the once glorious and thriving Arcadia that now shares the same Doom as did so many long ago: to fade and be lost. How much longer we here have, I could not rightly say. I can only hope that, when I am finally cast forth, I end up as a human with a properly sized nose! Aye, tis sadness, no humans that I ever did see could compare with any measure of pride against my own mighty beak.

I didst not promise the tale would end with gladness, but it is what it is and not what it is not.

 

Bristlebeak fell silent, his little sparks staring into the past and towards a future without hope. Zap’s head was lowered, his face an expression of loss and pain that was a mirror to how the little fae must have been feeling.

And I felt guilty.

It didn’t make any sense, but the crush of emotion placing it all on my shoulders was clear. All of it: the fae who lost their homes, who had to flee to distant pockets of dream, and all the ones who didn’t make it but were caught and forced to become human.

Like Danielle’s own sidhe spirit must have been. Deep inside, I felt - I knew - I was responsible. Somehow.

I could sense them out there, dotting across this tortured landscape, many having come close enough to hear Bristlebeak’s tale while remaining hidden and safe from the unknown travelers. Their hearts were enmeshed with a sadness they had carried for ages, as they had known full well that even this realm, this Arcadia, would reach its end. And the sparks within them had grown dim.

I couldn’t fix it, I knew that. Only their Mother, instinctively understood as Gaia herself, the spirit of Earth, could manage that. But maybe, just maybe, I could buy them more time. And lift those little hearts once again in songs of joy.

I had to try.

With a beat of my wings I rose above the ruined temple. With a beat of my heart I called to the light.

“Aradia, wait!” Zap shouted, using my chosen codename.

Instead of deflecting my attention, that name rang out like a hammer clanging against a mighty church-bell, reaffirming the need to act.

Scanning the temple, I searched for the lines of power hiding below the dream, for those arteries of magic that gave this place its stability and kept it secure. Finding them, the pattern traced back to a center that lay like an immense yet faded crystal orb behind everything.

Wispy tendrils floated below that orb, reaching towards a distant world-spirit whose attentions no longer were directed to here. Gaia slept, her dreams had moved on to elsewhere, leaving this temple spent and broken, its poem silenced. I could not reconnect them, I hadn’t the skill or maybe my resonance was just wrong. It wouldn’t respond to my call.

But the light above I could touch.

Echoing the pain found within the core of this realm, I begged that source to grant a respite of years for all the sparks - both tiny and large - who called this place home.

The brightness answered and a column of brilliance descended to the lakeshore. This time I bore witness.

White fire flashed down from the heavens, piercing through me to dive deep into the waters at the center of the temple stones. A blast of steam burst from those waters but, instead of scalding skin, it soothed for each droplet of that mist was full of light like the berry given the tiny storyteller.

A fog - no, a wave - of tiny lightberries raced out to flood into the broken forest on the shore, transforming all they touched. Mystic stones lifted from their fallen graves, rushing to return to their proper places and rejoin their comrades in their perfect tableau of poetry. Mud lifted upward, restoring the center platform while the missing sections returned to complete the circle of power. Dead tree stumps beyond cracked apart as seedlings exploded new life towards the stars in the sky, their bark thrumming with instantaneous growth and exploding to fill the air with lush and verdant leaves in all the styles and patterns one could imagine. The waters of the lake, churning and bubbling, shimmered and went clear, revealing fresh schools of brilliant metallic-sheened fish of molten golds and reds darting between tropical siblings who filled in the rest of the rainbow.

Glittering pixies launched into the air, sylphs splashed into the waters of the lake, and woodland critters of myth danced beneath new leafy canopies, their giggles and shouts merging into a solid wall of rejoicing.

I hovered there, quickly swarmed by all manner of little flying beings each trying to dart in and hug or kiss whatever parts they could touch. I didn’t know how to ask them to stop, they were all moving so fast that as soon as I thought I had their attention even more would arrive to take their place. And their joy was infectious, for I was giggling as mightily as they were. Pixie wings tickle like you wouldn’t believe!

The spear of illumination dissipated and slowly faded away, its light having been consumed by everything around. Its work was done.

Zap watched with resignation, at least until the fae decided he must have helped somehow and began giving him the same treatment. I laughed even harder as he tried to struggle politely against the tiny onslaught. On the grassy land beneath the stones, Khan had acquired several tiny riders and some must have found some catnip which they dangled in front of his nose by use of a long stick, said stick sporting new shiny emerald leaves sprouting from its sides.

Tsáyidiel’s raven interrupted the revelries with a cry of warning, shifting to his full gryphon form upon the stones’ keystone.

A wide azure circle appeared upon a path through the trees. Electric fire sparked along the edges, and through it could be seen a large courtyard where a multitude of dark figures scrambled into formation. From the mouth of the portal rode a mounted party of five armored knights, each holding lances with banners waving high upon the tips. Blood red cloaks covered their full plate armor, matching the background of the banners. The lead knight, whose own billowing cloth displayed a graceful golden crown, dismounted and bent a metal-clad knee into thick grasses now ringing the shore. He removed his helm and long blond hair spilled forth to frame a slender face of high cheekbones and grace. No doubt about it, he was sidhe.

All the fae around us stopped their spinning and merriment to turn towards the knights and offer tiny bows. The transition to sudden quiet was deafening. Even the fish in the lake paused their swimming. The knight gestured towards a small nearby squirrel wearing a tiny straw hat and smoking a cob pipe, and the fae critter darted up the extended arm to the knight’s ear where it chirped rapidly before jumping down, bowing, and backing away.

Breaking that silence, the knight called out to me. “Lady Aradia, our beloved Queen expresses her pleasure for this restoration of the temple within her realm. She invites you and your companions to join her forthwith at her keep as guests for tonight’s ball where she may properly show her appreciation.”

The keep. Where Danielle was being held. All revelries were forgotten and my eyes narrowed with remembered purpose. “Sir Knight, we naturally would be delighted to attend.”

The four armored sidhe split two by two to take up positions at the sides of the path. Their leader remounted and expertly guided his horse about so he could escort us through the portal to this keep. And to its queen.

We gathered upon that path: gryphon, god, tiger, and angel. As we passed through the crackling portal I mentally vowed that we would not leave without adding my niece’s spirit to that list.

Chapter 15 - Houses

The medieval-style keep was straight out of a Hollywood movie’s idea of what such should look like: huge grey stone fortifications full of horses and warriors all bustling in different directions. Swords, shields, maces, bows and arrows, all were kept close at hand by the sidhe soldiers busily lining up in orderly formation as we went past. Others wore robes of dark violets, indigos, and forest greens, each carrying a staff carved differently from the rest.

Irises flashing pigments not usually available to humans without colored contact lenses all stared as we went by, which was weirdly unnerving. Though with my own silver-flecked golds, I suppose I fit right in. Heh.

Another robed elf met us at the entrance to the wide hall. With his pointed ears and arrogant expression he reminded me of the haughty elf-king from Lord of the Rings, though his hair wasn’t blond so much as grey and unlike the other sidhe wrinkles beset his brow marking the passage of time. How many eons it took for a sidhe to actually show aging, I had no idea. Bet it’s a lot.

“Welcome,” he said in a measured tone, broad shoulders squaring towards us. “I have the honor of being the House Seneschal, you may call me Gwydion. Rooms have been prepared that you may refresh yourselves before the night’s revelries and servants shall assist with your attire if required.” He paused to regard Tiger-Khan standing at my side. “Would your…cat…enjoy his own room and refreshments?”

“He stays with me,” I said. As if to emphasize the point, Khan brushed the top of his head against my thigh.

“Very well, three rooms then. Follow me.” The seneschal led past thick doors to an entry hall that had yet another set of closed doors and smaller passages leading to stairs off to the sides. We went up a set of those stairs, meandering through the structure until finally reaching the end of a hallway marked by three doors of its own: one with a magnificent carving of a sprawling elm tree, one to the left bearing the likeness of a raven, and another to the right showing the bottom half of a sun spilling light over a large golden pyramid.

Somehow I doubted they kept these doors in stock just waiting to be hung appropriately for guests such as us, which meant that Zap’s admonishment of this really being a dream was very true. What passed for reality here might be fairly mutable; I’d have to remember that.

All three doors swung open, spilling bright candlelight into the hallway. Gwydion said, “There is time to rest and partake of a meal if you are so inclined. Should anything be not to your liking, your servant shall see to your needs. As guests your wishes are paramount, and the gifts of this House tonight in preparation for the Ball are given freely.”

Both Zap and Tsáyidiel relaxed upon hearing that. Having done enough fantasy gaming with Isaiah, I had a pretty good idea as to why. Many tales of the spirit realms and fae speak of the dangers of eating food or receiving presents that could have too many strings attached when taken.

Zap acknowledged the offer. “Seneschal Gwydion, we shall endeavor to be ready when it is time.”

The seneschal gave us a courtly bow and gestured for us to enter our rooms. I had a feeling that before the evening was out I’d be pretty tired of all the bowing and curtsying, and would need to resist the temptation to wedge in a good handshake or two instead. When in Rome and all that. In the glow of the flickering candles filling the corridor a thin scar was visible on the seneschal’s cheek, which was odd as I hadn’t noticed it before.

Zap shot me a quick wink before entering his room and the clouds of incense sneaking out from its interior. Tsáyidiel bowed low (see what I mean?) before saying, “My lady,” and waiting for me to enter mine first. I gave him a smile and walked on in, Khan sticking to my side.

It was huge. My own attic space in Hawthorne was oversized for a bedroom and all, but this was ridiculous. Polished marble columns rose high to hold up an equally marbled domed ceiling that must have been at least thirty feet tall. A tremendous number of white pillar candles rested upon little floating porcelain saucers which were casually swaying in random circles under the dome to cast a steady brightness on everything.

And by everything, I meant just that. At the center sat this massive canopy bed draped with snowy lace and piled high with thick fluffy blankets and cream-colored pillows. Off to the side was a long table laden with a feast suitable for an entire soccer team: multiple roasted chickens (or ducks?), cooked vegetables of various types, rolls and croissants, slabs of butter, tureens of steaming soup, baskets of fruits (some of which I’d never seen before), and at the end a mound of confectionery that would have caused a diabetic to keel over in shock just from the sugary vapors.

There was even a large dish on the floor stacked with grilled steaks and fish resting before a cozy pillow for a certain over-sized kitty. I was glad the food should be safe to eat, because honestly trying to prevent a tiger-sized Khan from ravenously digging in would have been tricky if not downright impossible. He didn’t even wait for me to say he could indulge as he walked right over and dug in, those large white and black lips crunching and smacking in content indulgence.

Beyond the waiting feast sat a massive hot tub with a stone fountain ringed with those ridiculous baby-style cherubs all naked and doing things like pouring water from urns or standing on tiptoe while spewing forth a stream past pursed lips. Heck one of them was straight-up peeing into the pool. I wondered if that was a reflection of the fae’s opinions of angels, though if it was just their thoughts on the putti-style cherub motif itself I’d likely agree. As Tsáyidiel could attest, real Kerubim were anything but disgustingly cutesy fat babies.

The door closed with a loud thunk. At the entrance stood a skinny olive-green robed and dark-haired woman who bowed deeply, holding herself in that position as if content to wait forever if need be for me to acknowledge her arrival - or even her existence.

“Uh, hi?” I said, letting the wings on my back fade away. Powering down seemed the polite thing to do.

“My lady,” the young woman said as she slowly stood, though her eyes remained downcast. “I have been assigned to attend you. What are your wishes?” Her ears were round and normal, and the arms peeking out from the sleeves of her robe were covered with scars criss-crossing skin far too dark for the fine-featured fae I had seen so far. And weirdly there was something about her that seemed familiar.

“I haven’t really figured out what I’m doing yet, maybe you can help me decide? Also, are you…human?”

Keeping her eyes subserviently lowered, she answered. “Yes, my lady. If you object to being served by one of my kind, I can arrange a replacement.” There was palpable fear in her statement. I had a bad feeling that sending her away would cause the poor girl to be punished and those scars hinted that the process could be extreme.

“No, of course not!” I said. “In fact, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Come on in, we’ll figure this out together, okay? And just call me Aradia, I’m not used to all this formality and-”

“Aradia?” Brown eyes looked up for the first time, flashing with instant rage. “YOU!” The energy in the room tilted in response to that anger, like the feeling before lightning strikes.

Uh, maybe powering down hadn’t been the right choice after all. What the hell?

I took a cautious step backwards towards Khan. “Do I know you?” The tiger interrupted his feast and faced the girl, muscles rippling across his back in preparation to leap into action if need be. Shit.

“Know me?” The girl’s expression contorted with anger but also with pain. “You don’t you recognize me?”

It clicked. Holy crap. She was years older than she should have been! “Erica?”

“Yes!” The girl fell to her knees, fists clenched tight at her sides as long hair fell forward to hide the tears flooding over her moment of rage. “That’s my name…”

Khan’s green eyes blinked up at me questioningly. Moving over to the woman, I knelt and put a hand on her shoulder. “Erica? How are you even here?”

She shuddered at the touch but didn’t pull away. “Four years,” she said in barely a whisper. “I haven’t heard my name spoken in four years.”

Four years? Oh my god. Tsáyidiel’s warning about the time differential between here and the physical world just became all too frighteningly real. Danielle had been unconscious for only about twenty-four hours, how long would that have been here?

The young woman - who should have still been a young girl of fifteen - gave a weird choking sob of a laugh. “I should hate you. I should hate you and blame you. But that would be a lie.”

“What happened, Erica?” I asked, repeating her name on purpose.

Fingers clamped onto my arm. “I was stupid. Young and stupid. The whole thing with Tamara, the pendant, all of it.”

“You fled the campus. Where did you go?”

She sniffed. “To the airport. Where I was even more stupid, because I wanted vengeance on you. I tried to sell information on your whereabouts just to get even. It didn’t work out very well.”

I stiffened. Had she been the one to lead the agents of Azazel to Whateley? Could she have been why they were waiting, why Danielle got shot? I could feel my own anger stir. “You said you ‘tried’ to sell. Something stop you?”

“The MCO were there, but they weren’t normal! Their eyes-”

“Were black, like bottomless pits.”

“Yes! How’d you know?”

“Did they do this to you?” I demanded, thinking she may have suffered just like Danielle had. “Did they rip your spirit free and send it here?”

“What? No!” She shook her head.

“They didn’t?” What the hell?

“I made a deal. With the Queen.”

“She was there?”

“Spirit projection. She likes watching the Whateley students arrive at the airport, searching especially for fae.”

That stunned me. Danielle would have stood out like a ruby resting on a frog’s butt to someone looking for other fae. This queen would have noticed her immediately. “You said you made a deal?”

She nodded. “I swore my service to the Queen. In return she kept me safe from the MCO.”

“But your body…” I looked her over. “You’re here in spirit, what happened to your physical self?”

“She made the MCO promise to deliver me unharmed to my mother in California. But she took my dream-self here. I can’t wake up. I’ve tried and tried, I just can’t!” She sobbed again.

Mrs. Carson’s remark that Danielle wasn’t the only student to have been harmed by the MCO fell into place. She must have meant Erica. She had to be lying in a hospital somewhere just like Danielle. But if this Queen was the real cause, could she have somehow snatched Danielle’s spirit right after that horrible bullet plunged through my niece’s heart?

Could Danielle have died in that moment, giving the opportunity? I was starting to dislike this queen.

“Erica, you may not be your hostess’ only victim. It’s why I’m here.”

“What?” Despite the scars and the tears, there was a strength in her still. All self-pity fell away, and with eyes now unnervingly clear she asked, “Who else?”

“My…friend.” I’d almost said ‘niece’, but my brain kicked in. Here we were, sitting in a fae realm, within a fae keep, inside a fantasy bedroom. Chances of the queen being able to hear every word was likely high. Shit. Had we said too much already? There’s no way it was a coincidence that Erica had been assigned to me. Fuck! The Queen could be using Erica as a spy or, even if not directly, as a trigger to get me to slip and say too much.

Erica was waiting for me to explain so I shook my head. “Suffice it to say things are complicated.” I gave an exaggerated look around the room and put a finger over my lips. Erica frowned, but after a moment’s thought she got the point and nodded.

I stood, offering her a hand. “You want a bite to eat? If I’m not mistaken, this food should be safe. For now.”

The slender girl’s dream-self was way too light in my grip. I could have easily tossed her across the room with one hand. She looked towards the food hungrily. “Wherever my body is, I don’t think it’s getting enough calories. I’m always starving. Do you really not mind? No other royal visitors would dare eat with a human servant.”

“Hell with that. If it’s truly my room for while I am here, then I can declare you my guest for the interim, right?”

She blinked. “I…I suppose so. Though, I doubt it’s ever been done.”

I grinned. “Always a first time. But you should hurry before the tiger there eats everything.”

The skinny young woman fell upon the overladen table like a ravenous wraith. Even Khan raised an eyebrow at her famished consumptions before returning to his own platter.

I went to join her, though oddly enough I didn’t feel hungry. Do angels need to eat? And what does eating in a dream realm actually accomplish anyway, did it replenish energy somehow? I didn’t know the answers.

What I did know is that my words about things being complicated were likely an understatement. Isaiah’s earlier warning about needing to think and to treat everything as a deadly scenario - no matter how gilded the setting may seem to be - rang through my head.

I had a feeling he was not only right, but horribly right. Suddenly I felt like a certain desert planet farm-boy entering the dangerous space-port bar and saying that he’d be cautious before bad men threatened his life. So where was Obi-wan to show up and kick ass with an elegant blue lightsaber?

Does a saber-toothed tiger-sized Khan count?

~o~O~o~

After being reassured there was plenty of time, I took a dip in the huge hot jacuzzi thing. Calling it a tub really didn’t do its size justice. Erica refused to get in with me, not unless I wanted her to give me a sponge bath. Uh no, the thought of that was way too weird. It may have been four years for her since she nearly caused Tamara’s spirit to be lost to darkness, but it was still pretty fresh for me. The thought itself, however, prompted further inquiries into the whole time difference situation.

“Does this place have normal days and nights? Is that how you’ve been tracking your four years?” I asked, rising from the soothingly toasty waters so I could speak without blowing more bubbles. The scents they’d mixed in were perfect, not too strong but with a lovely and subtle aroma. I never thought I’d be saying that about bath fragrances, but there you go. It was really nice.

Erica, a.k.a. Fields (which is how I usually remembered her), shook her head. “Time here is odd. Depending on where you are in the keep - or the region beyond - it can flow differently. It can be sunny in the courtyard but up on the battlements a full moon will shine in a night sky.”

“If that’s the case, how do you know how long it’s been since you got here?” I asked, puzzled because without a frame of reference how could it be tracked? Sleep cycles?

She gestured over an empty palm and a silver pocket watch appeared. “I created this. It’s magic, not science, but the working is a blend of both. It’s linked to the ticking of time according to my perceptions, on a nano-second scale.”

The watch glimmered in my spirit-sight, an amazingly intricate magical pattern yet all fitting together much like swiss precision timepieces I had seen on the Internet. I was impressed. “Very cool.”

That earned a genuine smile, an expression that had never crossed her face back at Whateley. Whatever had happened to her throughout all this time, Erica was clearly not the same girl she had used to be. The question remained: who was she now?

“Thanks,” she said as the watch vanished. “A lot of experiences here are subjective. Rooms in the keep can shift and change, but once you figure out the patterns you won’t get lost.” She stared at the silly baby angels surrounding the pool. “When I first got here I got lost a lot. There are…things…that are best left undisturbed in the sub-levels.” Shivering, she dipped a bare foot into the hot water.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Giving me a thoughtful look - which totally didn’t cause me to feel awkward due to me being naked in the water and all - she said, “At the ball tonight, if anyone offers you food, drink, or anything at all, if they don’t bear the mark of the golden crown on a sable background politely refuse the offer. There are many Houses in attendance tonight, only the Queen’s has guest-obligation towards you. The others don’t.”

That was useful information. It was my turn to say “Thanks!” while trying to figure out how to tell Zap and Tsáyidiel. For that matter, how would I keep Khan from eating an offered treat? I’d have to try and stay alert for such a threat.

“Are there many, uh, humans here?” I asked, trying to get through as many questions as I could while we had the chance.

“A few. They come and go, I may be the only one stuck permanently at the moment.”

“At the moment?”

“I’ve been told there have been others. No one will say what happened to them, they only give nasty grins and reply that I’ll find out. But the Queen likes to keep up to date with the goings-on of the mortal realm as she calls it. She’s fascinated by technology’s transformation of our world, though doesn’t care much for technology itself.”

“I’m guessing there aren’t any computers or such here.”

She made a face. “No. If there had been, and if it had so much as a single baud connection back home, I would have gotten a message out.” Her eyes darted about the room as she muttered, “Which isn’t anything the Queen wouldn’t already know.”

Changing the subject and hoping it would be safer for her to discuss, I asked, “What else about this ball can you tell me? I’m going to have to wear a fancy dress, aren’t I…” Just saying it caused a cringe as I realized that, unlike my practice sessions with Zap, tonight we’d be surrounded by immaculately graceful fae and not a room full of clumsy kids. And the faeries likely would be more than happy to laugh loudly at any missteps. Just wonderful.

Erica pondered. “The ball has been planned for a couple weeks, lords and ladies from other pockets of dream are attending. As for your attire, the Queen’s personal pixie tailors are available at your convenience. They’re busy working up gown suggestions to bring in even now. You should take this time to relax and be prepared for…anything.” She obviously wanted to say more but caught herself and fell silent.

“Huh.” I sank deeper into the hot scented waters and let my thoughts wander. Everything just seemed so surreal: fantasy castle, finding Erica, not to mention what I did back at the temple. Why had I done that anyway? It was as if a compulsion had struck me, a need born from a crushing sense of responsibility. Was that need from Gabriel’s memories somehow? The last fragment I could remember had her about to go see Aradia. Soren had once called me by that name (hence it sticking and being chosen as my codename), and there was no way he would have said it lightly. The guy was far too serious.

Closing my eyes I focused on the end of that memory, trying somehow if possible to force it to continue. What had happened after? Who exactly had the real Aradia been?

For once I succeeded at doing something crazily mystical on purpose instead of randomly triggering stuff like usual. This time my mind went clear and filled with a deliberate vision of a day long past.

 

Three angels flew across a sky resplendent with the pink clouds of a calm sunset. The three were not alike for their wings were of divergent shades: one purest white, another drenched in dark crimson, and the last a solid grey.

Upon a hilltop overlooking an outcropping of shore their feet once again touched the base earth. Waves below caressed where rock met sand to swirl around a tall circle of stonework. The monument vibrated with the mystic energies flowing from the world’s spirit, a being of great power but trying to slumber in peace and whose dreams kept getting disturbed by activity on its surface.

Standing at the top of the hill was a figure cloaked in the dark fur of a mighty beast. The figure’s hair of deep gold whipped about in the cold wind, each strand glowing iridescent in the moonlight. With eyes bound and hidden by their own fur-lined wrappings, a female voice addressed only one of the three winged arrivals.

“Welcome, Gabriel. I have been expecting you. The tea is almost ready and you have questions, come.”

With sure footing, the woman led them towards a fire busily boiling a small cauldron of water. Surrounding the flame-pit were many logs, clearly laid out to be used as benches. Sitting there waiting was another woman whose shimmering hair was not unlike a white fog flowing over the hills provided by slender shoulders. She said nothing, but pointed ears were listening.

Two of the angels took a seat while the third remained standing. The woman with bound eyes first served the two who sat with ceramic cups filled with crushed leaves and freshly steaming water. She offered another to the warrior who, after a brief hesitation, took what was offered. Filling her own cup last after handing a fourth to the silent lady of the fae, she sat upon her own piece of driftwood.

Gabriel spoke after taking a polite sip of the offered refreshment. “Tamiel claims you are the daughter of the First, called Aradia. Is this true?”

The woman gave a small bitter laugh. “He would answer that as a daughter I am a failure, and I would not debate his opinion.”

Tamiel shifted uncomfortably. Gabriel frowned and said, “Please forgive me if my question offends-”

A quick wave of Aradia’s hand attempted to reassure the archangel. “They do not offend, Lady Gabriel. Perhaps a better explanation is that yes, I am a product of the Lightbringer’s pattern, as mixed and matched with that of a demi-goddess.”

Camael’s baritone echoed off the nearby cliffs, yet his tone was subdued. “A demi-goddess, not a human? Explain…please.”

Gabriel looked to her guardian in surprise. His being polite was unusual.

Aradia took a sip of her tea. “Lucifer’s pattern is too…large, for lack of a better term, to be merged with a human female. Many normal woman died before the gestation period was complete. As I understand, he gave up his attempts with the daughters of men and looked instead for the daughters of women and their gods, finding my mother, Artemis. As an untainted demi-goddess she was deemed a suitable possibility and taken for such against her will. Thus was I born, much to mother’s dismay and terrible fury.”

The armored angel considered. “You said he believes you a failure, yet here you sit. And power akin to his shines within you, I can feel it.”

Aradia regarded the warrior, eyes bound by cloth somehow still staring deeply. “Oh yes, my pattern channels the light. That’s the entire problem.”

“I do not understand.”

Aradia smiled sadly. “The light shall be my end. For if I embrace what it offers it will destroy me. My pattern is flawed and would shatter from such a force. And yet that power sits ever present at the center of my being and is eager to do its work. But you see, I am only a pale reflection of the First’s glory, and thus perhaps one of his greatest disappointments.”

“I…I am sorry, Lady Aradia.” Camael stared down at his cup.

Gabriel understood her protector’s mood. So did Aradia for she spoke of it. “As am I,” the blind-yet-not-blind woman said gently. “I know what you hope for, oh Hero of the First War. Just as many of the Grigori have visited over the years and briefly shared those hopes. But I am not the fulfillment of such, much as I may wish it were otherwise.”

The warrior shifted his attention to the shining moon above. “And yet the light is there. Its work continues, and that shall have to suffice. I must think on this.” He strode off a ways to be alone with his thoughts.

Tamiel appeared confused, but remained silent.

Gabriel, however did not. “By the bindings of your sight, may I assume you also share a hint of the First’s gifts in that arena as well?”

A bitter laugh answered. “They are one and the same: perception and the light by which to see. Yes, I know why Tamiel has brought you. I asked my good friend, Saibh, to join us. She is the High Priestess of the Mother and she has a role in what is to come. As do we all.”

“You’ve foreseen it then? What we must do? I have not been able to pierce any route within the pattern that leads to an ending not of further ruin for this world.”

“These eyes see more possibilities than I can handle, Lady Gabriel. Hence they are bound, for my control is equally lacking in comparison to my progenitor’s.”

The lady of the fae broke her silence. “You give yourself far too little credit, like usual. You foresaw the rise of the corruption that now plagues the Grigori in the east, you convinced your uncle to bring the mortal Enoch to the attentions of a wayward Heavenly scout, and thus by your actions have you summoned the one Archangel who might, if we are brave and skilled enough, avert a true catastrophe.”

Gabriel regarded Aradia with a new measure of respect. “I would hear more.”

Aradia shook her head in frustration. “It’s not all clear! I only get glimpses and fragments. You being here may help; so far only my uncle has been able to tease ordered meanings from all I am shown. He’s waiting for you in a cave further along the coast and will explain, but he insists on talking to you alone.”

“Is that so?” Gabriel said wryly. “He would be the second this day to insist on such conditions. It is either flattering or frustrating, I am not sure which. And who would your uncle be to try and impose such a restriction?”

“Only the one who raised me after finding the Lightbringer’s abandoned failure of a child wandering in a forest, defenseless and hungry. I know him as ‘uncle’, but you know him by another name entirely.”

Feeling even her infinite patience wearing thin, Gabriel grew annoyed. “What name?”

“Azrael.”

It is rare for an Archangel to be so well and truly surprised. This revelation caused Gabriel’s thoughts to spin rapidly only to resolve with renewed purpose. “If Judgment himself is taking a hand in these events then a path must exist, albeit one balanced upon a razor’s edge. While this gives me hope, it also speaks of events much larger in scope than just this one world’s fate.”

Gabriel stood, stretching soft wings out behind. “Saibh, Tamiel. Please wait here for Camael to return from his own musings. Aradia, if you would, please guide me to ‘Uncle Azrael’.” She failed to suppress a quiet chuckle at the thought of her sullen and reserved brother, the Angel of Death himself, being referred to in such affectionate terms.

Tamiel rose as well. “Lady Gabriel, if I may, it would be faster for me to take you. I believe I know the cave he has ensconced himself within. Aradia, alas, is earth-bound: she has no wings with which to fly.”

Aradia confirmed with a rueful smile. “Another aspect meriting Lucifer’s disapproval, I’m afraid.”

The archangel examined the Goddess-borne Nephelim. “I see. Very well.” Turning to go, she paused and looked back at Aradia with a brow narrowed with deeper concentration. As Aradia, Saibh, and Tamiel all waited in puzzlement, Gabriel suddenly smiled with moonlight twinkling in her eyes. “Yes, I believe I do see.”

Launching herself into the air without explanation, the archangel called to them. “We should not keep your uncle waiting and I find myself quite anxious to learn what he has to say. Warn Camael this may take awhile. My brother Azrael has historically been a terse conversationalist, but when matters of import arise he instead turns quite verbose. One never knows which aspect may manifest.” Wings of grey rose to join those of fresh snow, and together they flocked towards their brother of Judgment, one eager to arrive and the other resigning themselves to whatever fate may come.

Back on the cliff the fire crackled loudly, sending sparks skyward to chase after the feathers of Heaven.

“Has their arrival caused anything to solidify in your vision?” Saibh inquired of her companion.

A moment’s pause before the woman with covered eyes replied, “The pattern has shifted, marking a beginning and an end.”

“An end to the Mother’s pain?” the priestess asked hopefully.

“No, Saibh. An end to mine.”

 

“Aradia!” Someone was shouting and hands were pulling me up by the armpits.

Whatever clarity there was going in to the memory had been lost coming out. Confusion set in for the scene had been recalled from two distinct perspectives, both overlapping yet split within my mind: Gabriel’s and also…Aradia’s. The latter’s recollection was of sounds, smells, and a raw perception of the energy patterns of everything around her. Each minute detail had clamored for her attention, beating against the inner fortress of her own control. It reminded me of Leland and his issues of sensory overload, except this went far beyond the usual five senses and included a direct connection to the structures that underlay all matter and spirit.

The bulwark of that indomitable will had been under constant siege from those perceptions, and also by the burning wellspring of power that lay at her core. A power I recognized and knew all too well. But where the light healed me and kept me whole, to her it had been as if a towering furnace scorched her soul every minute of every hour.

Through the entire conversation with the visiting angels she had been in agony, that furnace recognizing its siblings and desperately trying touch them and reassure them, all while railing against the mental force keeping it in check.

I don’t know how she could have withstood it and yet she had, all while holding a normal and focused conversation. She was assaulted from without and within, but had forged a palisade of discipline in order to function.

Compared to the magnitude of such an effort I felt small and unworthy.

Erica dragged me out of the pool, cold tile reminding of where I was and why. I didn’t have time to dwell on the past, or think about what it meant that I had remembered something from Aradia’s own perspective in addition to Gabriel’s. Mindblowing as that was, I had my own pressing problems to solve. For example: without meaning to, I had flared brightly again in automatic response to the remembered pain. Shit. It definitely helped me feel better, but I did what I could to tamp it down anyway.

“Uh, sorry about that,” I said, seeing Erica leaning over me with an unfathomable expression.

“Are you…alright?” she asked, though I think she caught herself before saying what she initially intended.

“Yes, I’m fine. Really.” I moved to stand and she got to her feet as well, wrapping me with a super-soft fluffy towel and applying a second one to my head.

As she did so, she leaned in close to one ear. “Aradia,” she whispered hesitantly, “how powerful are you?”

Her question caught me off guard. There was a measure of desperation with how she asked, emphasized by the way she kept busily over-toweling my hair.

Even if the Queen had ordered her to ask or find that out somehow, either Erica was a much better actress than I would ever have guessed or she was hoping that maybe, just maybe, I could get her out of here. And she’d been using my codename too, when she knew full well the name I had at Whateley. Sure, Jordan wasn’t my real name either, but not many people knew that.

Fuck. I was without a clue on how to even approach getting Danielle free. All we knew was that she’d been stuck here and likely kept in those sub-levels Erica had mentioned. How could I help Erica too? And if she was indeed the source that set Azazel upon us at the lake, was being stuck here a punishment fitting for all her crimes?

Answering for more than just the obvious audience I replied quietly, “Well, we will just have to see.” Then louder I added, “Know any spells that can quickly dry hair? There was a girl in Poe who had a really handy one.”

She stared, clearly wondering if I was asking to pretend that I was weak for the benefit of whomever was listening. “Sure, of course. Hold still. And the tailors should be here any minute.”

With a few mumbled words, Erica pulled the moisture from each strand, turning them from a dark blood red, much like the remembered color of Camael’s wings, and into its usual brighter scarlet and golden metallic shine.

Truthfully, of course, I didn’t know how to cast even a simple spell like that. All I had was a mighty sledgehammer that liked to do crazy things without me understanding how or even sometimes why.

I fervently hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

~o~O~o~

My toga-dress was instantly judged by the pixie tailors as ‘lacking appropriate elegance’. Said tailors, mind you, were a set of three miniature old grannies with dragonfly wings glued to their backs. Not the Cinderella god-mother types either - no rosy plump cheeks here - more like deeply crevassed faces with missing teeth and sunken eye sockets and wisps of scraggly greyish-silver hair hanging about in unkempt clumps.

But I remained impeccably polite, after all they were holding super sharp platinum sewing needles and from how they held them I bet they could sew up your ears faster than a hemline.

What proceeded was a very different experience than standing in Cecilia Rogers’ shop, let me tell you. Negotiations amongst the three were admittedly entertaining while they poked and prodded me every which way:

 

“Where them wings gone? She’s supposed to have ‘em!”

“She put them away, dearie. Angels can do that you know.”

“There are those at the higher courts who keep their wings present at all times as symbols of their station. This, obviously, is not one of those.”

“Peh. She gonna burst ‘em out then in the middle of dancin’? We wrap her up too tight and that’d be a sight to see! Feathers tearin’ fabric left and right wherever Claire did the stitchin’. Rip, shred!”

“Oh my. Best we design for the wings making an appearance or the poor girl’s attire could be all undone.”

“I concur. And for the record, my stitches are legendary for their strength, as the surcoat of Count Nathlain can attest.”

“Angel feathers ain’t like the tug of a bevy of horny chambermaids tryin’ to get to the middle of their favorite puddin’, they is sharp or even aflame. Fabric needs be durable as well as sexy.”

 

“Ideas on length, ladies? Perhaps an elegant belled ruffle, with the trail behind sweeping clear any who would dare an intimate distance as she passes by.”

“Are ye daft? We already said she might pop them wings! Wings mean flight ya ol’ coot, jus’ picture her hoverin’ there in the hall with six to seven feet o’ cloth danglin’ under them toes. Right silly ifn’ ya ask me.”

“Ooh! Maybe put a working on it so it wraps her feet all fluffy like a cloud if she floats upward! Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Much as I despise admitting it, Marion has a point. No train and no spell. Let her fly with grace and not absurdities.”

“Aww. But-”

“No.”

 

“Dear me, what colors? No sweetie, you just stand there and hush. Let us work. I was thinking a lovely violet, with blue-highlights.”

“You and yer violets. I swear every customer ye be wantin’ to pin them purple flowers to their bosoms.”

“The guest list indicates many royals in attendance. While the outfit she arrived in lacks style for such an event, the color choice is a proper indication of her equivalent status. Which is precisely why she is in need of something more fitting to show her elevation beyond such considerations. She hails from the Ethereal, and her attire should serve as a reminder of such. Soft white with gold accents to match and emphasize those eyes and those shining streaks in her hair should serve.”

“But that’s so passé! At least have the gold start darker near her feet and grow brighter on top.”

“Aye, that may work. Ya hear that, Claire? Beth had a good idea! Mark the occasion, for as clear as the bald patch on me head ‘tis a special day!”

“Be nice, Marion.”

 

Once the decisions were complete, those three pixes fell upon the racks of material with a speed and frenzy akin to hummingbirds high on a blend of meth and cocaine. Scissors snipped, needles flashed, thread spun about, and bits and pieces of rejected fabric went flying in a miniature tornado surrounding the hovering turbo-tailors.

What came out of it all, I had to admit, was gorgeous. A tight white gown covered the chest with a relaxed v-shape exposing a stylish amount of cleavage all while clinging tightly to the stomach below. Shiny embroidered golden patterns ran up the sides from the floor all the way to shoulder straps only a few inches wide leaving the arms completely bare. The back was entirely exposed, more of that sheer gold embroidery running across the top of the hips like a belt only for the lower back, before letting white cloth fall to just touch the ground as a slightly expanding skirt.

It was elegantly simple in sharp contrast to the other dresses I had glimpsed from their collection, something which suited me just fine. I slipped it on without protest.

I did get stuck wearing matching high heels. I was going to complain, but Erica reminded me that height had an advantage and that the dress was cut with those pointy stilts as a requirement. She did mutter a few gaelic words at the shoes, and when I stood they felt remarkably comfortable and balanced. I whispered to thank her yet again, earning me another one of those rare smiles.

The pixie tailors, now satisfied with my clothing, proceeded into yet another debate regarding jewelry, hairstyle, and makeup. I resigned myself and just closed my eyes (unless ordered to open them) to let them do their thing. Thus I became adorned with dangling earrings of medium-sized golden stars - think crosses but with the ends curving to points - along with a thin strip of gold inscribed with Celtic knot-work resting against my brow. My hair had been pulled away from the face and ears, yet still cascaded in rolling waves over the exposed skin on my back. Either the tiara itself or some kind of magic held everything in place, maybe both. The makeup they had applied gave an intriguing look of teenage youth mixed with adult womanhood, all without it being obvious there was anything put on in the first place.

How that works is something I may never figure out.

While the shock of seeing a young lady in the mirror had slowly worn down over the past couple months, dressed like this just re-emphasized it all. And now I had to go in front of fae lords and ladies with thousands of years of social experience. Nervous? Me? Oh hell yes.

After a few minor adjustments by tugging fabric here or there and pulling on the earrings, the three tailors judged me passable.

Turning away from the full-length set of conjured mirrors they had used to get everything just so, I gave the three pixie crones a deep curtsy.

Remembering mention in Circe’s class about the dangers of directly thanking members of the fae, as apparently they might take insult, I said instead, “This is a stupendous work of fashion which would be the envy of the courts of Heaven.” Okay, so I had no idea what the ‘courts of Heaven’ had for fashion, but hey, it sounded good.

The reaction was priceless. Those three ancient women hovered higher and their faces beamed with pride as they returned my curtsy with synchronized flourishes. The middle one declared formally, “It has been our pleasure, my lady, and we rejoice in the praise of those we have the honor to serve. Your gown and its accoutrements are yours to keep forevermore as a testament to your visit within our hold.” The one on the left gave the middle pixie a stern look as if about to object, only to be biffed on the head with some leftover fabric by the third.

Would the gown and everything stay with me when I returned to, as Erica put it, the mortal realm? I had no idea but figured it would be best to treat it all as if it would. Insulting such a gift by asking would not only be rude, it would also show some serious ignorance.

As in it would expose how clueless I was out here in this land of crazy fantasy. Yep. And to think that only a short set of weeks ago my days were filled with staring at databases and fielding phone calls from IT personnel who kept forgetting to keep internal DNS entries up to date.

If they could see me now I bet they’d either pass out from the shock or try to weasel out my personal phone number with awkward offers of coffee. Heh.

A loud chime echoed through the room, causing many eyes to look towards the door. After a pause Erica cleared her throat. “My lady, may the Seneschal enter?”

Oops. They were waiting for me. “Yes, of course,” I replied, gesturing at the entrance. The ladies moved into action, pushing the cloth racks aside with a strength far beyond their diminutive size to leave the entrance area clear. Two of them took positions besides the large elm-marked door as it opened, revealing the tall sidhe seneschal as well as Zap and Tsáyidiel. Gwydion was still wearing his blood-crimson robe, a match to the one Erica had quickly changed into while the pixies had been arguing over how best to throw paint onto my face. The golden crown symbol could be seen clearly on the shoulders, now that I knew to look for it.

Tsáyidiel had shifted into a panther form matching Tiger-Khan in size. His only nod to fashion was a pair of emerald earrings dangling from his ears. Zap, however, was a different story.

Gone was the simple loincloth. It had been replaced by a sheer linen skirt with a belt of thick bronze draped around his waist with feathers engraved into the metal itself. Hanging from the center of that belt were layers of dark and light blue fabrics with a pattern ending in further bronze shield-like emblems. His chest was bare, but around the neck was a metallic collar curving down to lie flat against chest and shoulders in a hammered circle of blues and more bronze. The Eye of Horus necklace lay proudly atop the collar. Oh, and his face was done up in an even more pronounced Egyptian-style dark makeup.

He looked every inch a proud and noble Egyptian deity and he had the regal expression to match. Standing there wearing such an outfit all hints of the boy Zap that had lain behind those eyes were gone. The warrior god was here in force, his stance solid and sure.

It was the warrior who let those piercing eyes trail from my feet to my head and it was the god who favored me with a nod and smile of appreciation.

Something inside fluttered and I tried hard not to turn away or blush. Dammit. My fair skin probably showed the reaction anyway.

Gwydion spoke, distracting from my confused emotions. “Lady Aradia, the time for the night’s ball has arrived. Are you prepared to attend?”

“I…yes, Seneschal, I am.” I tried to stand taller in the heels strapped to my feet.

“Excellent. Might I inquire as to your official titles for the pronouncement of your arrival?” He asked the question without a trace of curiosity and only perfunctory requirement, but I didn’t believe that for a second. Not that I had a good answer to give him.

The panther was swift to my rescue. “The Lady is known as Aradia, Beloved Seraph of the House of Light, and I am Tsáyidiel, of the Kerubim and in the service to the Lady and her House. The personal guardian at her side is known as Khan. You already know the titles and honors belonging to Lord Heru.”

I fought incredibly hard to hide my surprise. A Seraph? Weren’t those the angels on fire with six wings? But I only had two! And what the heck was the House of Light? Were there more like me? I was so going to grill him later, but didn’t dare say anything now. Shit!

Gwydion inclined his head. “Of course. If you would follow me, our other guests are waiting.” He turned to walk down the hall, pausing only to make sure we all were coming.

I stepped forward, Tiger-Khan moving to my side and Erica following behind. Zap - or maybe I should say Heru - offered an arm, his kohl-darkened eyes burning with intensity. Swallowing quietly I took it, feeling overwhelmed and out of place. Tsáyidiel took a position on the Egyptian god’s other side and the four of us walked steadily towards whatever was waiting.

A glance over my shoulder showed Erica keeping pace and I will admit to hoping she could stay nearby throughout the evening’s ordeal. Oddly though, the scars on her arms were no longer visible. A quick check of the Seneschal’s face showed the same. The skin blemishes I had observed earlier had disappeared.

Glamour. It had to be. Some sort of fae magic covering it all up. And the light from our rooms had exposed them, meaning our rooms had been enchanted to strip away any such effects from the occupants. If we had been anything other than what we appeared, it would have been immediately revealed for all to see.

All of which served as a scary reminder that where we were headed next was likely to be full of things that could be absolutely anything other than what they appeared.

Gulp.

Chapter 16 - Party

Have I mentioned that I never was much of one for attending large parties?

I mean sure, I’d attended my share back in college and watched the fraternity guys consume ridiculous amounts of alcohol with testosterone-fueled bravado and gusto while the girls all raced each other in competition to see who could pass out first. I’ve also dealt with what happens after, like when they dropped my roommate (their so-called pledge brother) off at our dorm, having literally carried him in with his feet dragging on the floor only to dump him on his bed. Yeah, they didn’t stick around to deal with making sure he didn’t choke and kill himself during the night, or to clean up the mess he made of his bed, clothes, and wall when the inevitable poison purge kicked in.

But that’s the aftermath.

Most of the parties I’d actually enjoyed were rather low-key geek fests full of gamers, stoners, and only a few true booze-hounds that other friends would cut off sometime around midnight to prevent trips to an Emergency Room. Pizza, vodka, beer, and music all consumed by youngsters pretending to be philosophical while examining the unsure meanings of their lives. None of these were events of swirling intrigue and power politics with formal clothing and all the pretentiousness regarding titles. Obviously I also had never needed to worry about walking in high heels and possibly tripping over the hem of my own dress. But nothing could have prepared for what we found within the fae keep’s great hall.

Behind those huge double doors was not a great hall as one would expect. Having toured England when I was a kid I’d seen at least a few glimpses of those. Zap’s words about this entire realm being a dream echoed with truth as we were escorted inside and loudly announced to the gathered throng with our names and fancy titles. Beasts with fur, scales, and feathers danced and twirled between glittering ancient trees looming over a tremendous clearing of dirt and grass. Immaculate and sensuous sidhe, escapees from an avant-garde fashion show designed by artisans doped to the gills on innumerable pharmaceuticals, glided past in perfect sync to music blending the sounds of nature with a full orchestra. Ocean waves crashed for the drumbeats, flutes merged with the trills from the throats of songbirds, all while a wolf-pack’s howl carried the main melody accompanied by violins and cellos. The musicians hid in the shadows of the trees surrounding the dance floor, while an extraordinary moon cast illumination past leafy canopies to mix with the spiral glow of sparks emitted by a horde of will-o-wisps as they darted over and through the arms, legs, and unnameable limbs of the revelers.

If it hadn’t been for Zap’s steady arm holding tight I would have fled in an attempt to preserve my sanity. He also took care of all the nodding and formal acknowledgments to the parade of beings forming the confusing pattern of greeters. Tsáyidiel and Khan took up positions as guards with Erica hovering nervously nearby as we dealt with the mix of folks who had unpronounceable or outright unintelligible monikers. I just smiled and shook or touched all the offered hands, claws, fins, and feathers as politely as I could. While the sidhe were stuck on bowing and all that, other races seemed a bit more contemporary.

Once the gathering finally flitted off to be seen and noticed elsewhere, Zap offered me a tall crystal flute of clear liquid. Leaning in he whispered, “It’s safe. I took it from him.” He pointed at a crown-emblazoned fig tree that was slowly carrying several serving platters of refreshments right between the chaos. Somehow the fae never collided with it, no matter how insanely crazy or frenetic their dance moves which were simply color-smeared blurs.

Taking a cautious sip I found it to be nothing more than water. And while I’m sure the ones with more eccentric aromas were brilliantly intoxicating, I was grateful for his selection. I was also grateful he’d already realized where safe refreshment was to be found without me having to remember to tell him. Because, uh, I’d forgotten as soon as the doors opened to the inner mayhem.

A tall and unearthly handsome sidhe approached us, wearing an outfit that reminded of a Cossack’s wide pant legs and kaftan complete with a purple silk sash around the waist. The guy also could have given Brendan serious competition on a basketball court with how he towered over us. He executed an exaggerated formal bow, revealing a tight black braid of hair dangling behind his back.

“Lord Heru, Lady Aradia, please permit me to welcome you to our gathering,” he said in a Slavic accent of some sort. “I am Duke Perun, Warleader of the House of Oak.”

“Greetings Duke, we are pleased to be here.” Again Zap offered a polite nod, and with his tug on an arm I tried my best to do the same. How to tell when one should curtsy or bow was still a mystery, but so far Zap had only nodded. Guess he considered both of us of higher rank than, well, everyone.

The Duke smiled widely at me before commenting to Zap, “It is not often that one sees those who are of El traveling with those of Kemet.” The guy’s focus also lingered on where the gown exposed my chest for far too long. Some male habits are apparently universal.

“I suppose not,” Zap said. “But stranger things have been known to happen. We have yet to meet the Queen who so generously offered us invitations. Is she planning to attend?”

“Most certainly, sir,” Perun said, reluctantly tearing attention away from my cleavage. “She shall be along presently. From her invitation it is clear she has something unique in mind and we all look forward to its discovery. In the meantime, might I inquire as to what has brought you both to these distant shores? Perhaps we might offer aid.” The Duke said the last while giving yet another admiring look of obvious interest in my direction. His intonation also implied a larger offer than simple ‘aid’. Geeze. And I thought the fae were supposed to be subtle!

Enough was enough. “Oh,” I said in a fake bubbly voice. “We decided to fly hither and tither and just totally found ourselves here, you know?” I gave Perun a smile worthy of the most ditsy beach bunnies. “I was thinking we should try Mare Imbrium next, your moon view here is sooo inspiring!” I pointed at the overly large orb hanging above the trees. “Don’t you think so, Heru? You promised me a tour of the best romantic places! And I am so going to pout if you can’t deliver!”

Zap shot me a look best translated as ‘what the fuck?’ whereas Perun coughed and said, “Yes, I suppose that would be…romantic. I hope you two partake of what we may offer here as well. Please, enjoy the revelries.”

With that the Duke bowed again and stepped away. Tsáyidiel’s panther eyes stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

“What?” I said to the black jungle cat.

“We should dance,” Zap suggested smoothly. “It would prevent further awkward conversation.”

Dance? Ah dang. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.

~o~O~o~

Can I thank God for Cecilia Rogers? Because she deserves one heck of a Christmas gift as thanks for shoving me into her ballroom dance class.

Granted the music was completely different, but Zap led through a masterful adaptation of what we had learned in class allowing us to cross the dance area with dignities intact. He even kept us from colliding with the other frenetic fae dancers. Which was somewhat troubling by itself.

Student Zap was good - a natural even - but now? He pulled me through moves designed to compensate for the inexperience of one partner, ones which we had never seen let alone learned. It was clear he had become much more ‘Heru’ than ‘Zap’, and that disturbed me. Especially considering my own moments of random personality shifts when dealing with the other angels.

We were literally in a realm of dreams. How often have people behaved radically different from normal when in a dream? I can remember a few where I had done some things fairly out of character. Could that happen here too? Would I even remember what happened here once we got back? Would Zap?

He noticed my distracted thinking and adeptly guided us to the side where Tiger-Khan, Tsáyidiel, and Erica were waiting. Playing things back a few moments in my thoughts, I had come close in my inner distractions to stepping on what was best described as a Leprechaun with the head of a fox. Oops.

The crowd pressed in on all sides as the gathering slowly filled to capacity. Zap’s eyes peered professionally over the throng and he must have seen something because he moved closer and spoke into an ear.

“You should kiss me again.”

Startled, I blushed fiercely as my stomach tried to climb into my throat. What?

“They’re circling and about to pounce. They will request to dance with each of us separate, and try to woo us away from the crowd. Unless we are perceived as an item, we cannot politely refuse.”

Oh.

Swallowing back those rising butterflies I reminded myself that it all was just a dream. Biting a lip, I let him wrap arms around me, and before I could shy away he went for it and his lips found mine.

Yeah, okay, my eyes closed. Whether I kicked up a heel behind as well, I’ll never tell. So there. And he tasted minty, like he’d smuggled a breath mint into the ball just for this purpose. Which given him, could be possible.

The music chose that moment to pause before a massive horn section suddenly blared out, causing all dancing and talking to cease - as well as our kiss. For a shocked moment I thought the trumpets were for us, but Gwydion’s voice rang out announcing otherwise. Part of me wanted to kick him for triggering the interruption. Another part wanted to declare him my savior. Shit.

“Lords, Ladies! I give you our beloved Queen Fionnabhair of the House of Elm, Defender of the Contingent of Houses, and Duchess of Arcadia.”

The crowd parted down the middle and my jaw just about hit the floor as the silver-haired fae from Gabriel’s first memory began crossing towards the front of the gathering, moving with grace and confidence. She hadn’t aged a day from the vision of the thatched hut but wasn’t wearing the simple green linen she had on then. Instead a flowing emerald gown draped itself over her slender frame and a lengthy train trailed behind each of her oh-so-sensual steps.

One by one the fae bowed low - some took a knee - as she passed. Occasionally she paused to exchange pleasantries with those among the crowded guests pulsing with greater-than-average power. I had taken a spirit-side glimpse earlier, and while it had made me nauseous it had also made clear that within this crowd were some potent entities.

As she approached us I started to panic; I had no idea what the protocol should be for me and Zap. Should we kneel or bow? Kiss her cheeks? What?

Before I could decide or scour my memory for any guidance hidden in things I had read years ago, she was standing before us.

Zap, for the first time in the evening, bowed and I quickly took his lead and tried to execute a curtsy. Fortunately I didn’t fall on my face, yay again for Cecilia’s class? Tsáyidiel’s panther head dipped low, and to my surprise Khan’s did as well. Huh.

The Queen acknowledged our respect and smiled, though it never reached her eyes. “Welcome Lord Heru and Lady Aradia, your presence has been a pleasant surprise, and your efforts to restore a small piece of our realm’s history is clearly unprecedented.”

“Your Majesty,” Zap said with all formality. “Your invitation to join this gathering tonight was most welcome. It has been quite enjoyable.”

“Excellent. We trust you both shall find the rest of the evening particularly entertaining.”And with that she moved on. She didn’t acknowledge Erica at all.

Zap’s stance shifted from casual and relaxed to something much more primed for danger. I had to agree with him, I too had a sudden bad feeling about things.

At the end of the path closing behind her as she walked sat a wide wooden platform, one which the Queen ascended before facing the tree-lined hall.

“We bid thee all greetings and our welcome. We know many have traveled far to reach our realm, and that all are anxious as to why they were summoned. Fear not, worthy followers of the Contingency, all shall be revealed and we trust to your great satisfaction.”

There was a low twitter in the crowd, and it pressed closer with a feral eagerness.

“But first, we must acknowledge a stunning transformation to an area within our domain.” She turned and with a gesture several red-robed elves began chanting. A wide blue electric portal such as we had used before sprung into the space behind her, again leading to where we had arrived. “We invite you all to join us and behold what our foreign visitors have caused to be.”

She walked forward through the waiting portal and the crowd followed, taking us along with it. We emerged at the lake’s edge, the circle of stone before us and the moon now closer to the horizon. Somehow we’d lost Erica to the press of everyone else. As there were too many of the various fae behind us for me to find her, I gave up and looked ahead, taking in the scene at the lake. The fae who had been celebrating earlier were no longer visible, but I could still feel them. They hid in scattered spots within the restored forest all around.

And they were radiating nervousness if not outright panic.

They weren’t the only ones arrayed about either. A squad of armored fae knights, bowmen, and robed spellcasters encircled the ancient temple. Clearly we had walked through their mobilization when entering the keep.

Zap grabbed my arm with a strong grip, causing me to flinch. His eyes flashed with anger but he said quietly, “Stay calm and do nothing. Not yet.” Confused, I looked around again and this time caught a glimpse of the restored temple and what was at its center.

If he hadn’t given warning I don’t know what I would have done. Bound to a stone slab in the middle by softly glowing ropes was Danielle.

Her eyes were wide with terror as she watched the emerald-clad queen approach the circle’s edge followed by the large menagerie of fae that had assembled.

Beside me I heard Khan growl, and knowing Zap was likely right I placed a hand upon his fuzzy head. My own anger went ice cold, and I was preparing to…do something beyond words.

Within the crowd, however, a low whispering could be heard which quickly became louder. They were saying a name, over and over.

“Saibh! Saibh! Saibh!”

I should have realized it and made the connection earlier when I’d had the vision of Aradia’s campfire, but her fae friend hadn’t been seen too clearly and I was far too focused coming out of it on Gabriel and Aradia. Danielle, bound once again to a seat, was a younger version of that lady. Flowing white hair and all.

“Behold!” the Queen shouted. “The Temple of the Mother restored, and her priestess returned! It is time, my people! Time to break the shackles that have kept us banished from our true home.”

A cry of excitement rose from the gathered beings and they began to chant. “Home! Home! Home!”

“What do we do?” I said to Zap and Tsáyidiel. “Can we grab her and fly off?”

Tsáyidiel bared fangs. “No. Those ropes bind her spirit to this realm. It is a strong working tied into the heart of where we stand.”

Zap agreed. “Cutting them would likely take too long, and hold its own dangers.” His hawk-like eyes noted all the fighters arrayed around, plus those within the crowd who would likely jump in.

Again the Queen’s voice lashed out like a whip. “You all know what was done and how we were betrayed. How this one,” she said pointing at Danielle, “took it on herself to go against royal decree and ally herself with another Host unleashing the curse forcing those who could to flee and those who could not into permanent bondage.”

From the masses a voice cried out. “Kill her! Let there be justice!” Others echoed the cry, but the Queen’s icy gaze quieted them.

“Fear not!” she declared. “Justice will be done. But should it not also be tempered with the chance for mercy? What was done can still be undone.” She turned to address Danielle. “Saibh! High Priestess of the Mother, you have one chance to survive and it is this: release your spell that lies upon all our people as they lie locked within mortal form. Free them from their ignorance, free them that they might gather and break the barriers that have separated our people for so long! Free the Mother’s constraints so her love may flow once more upon her people! Your temple is restored, is this not a sign of providence? Do this and you shall go free!”

A hush fell upon the crowd as they awaited Danielle’s answer. A mix of anger and hope rippled through them.

Danielle, tears upon her face, cried out, “How can I? I don’t remember! I’m just a student, I’ve barely touched whatever you think I was! Only a few scattered dreams…”

Ancient rage flowed across the Queen’s face. “Then remember! Or the fact that you were once my sister will not preserve you! Remember!” Her command echoed over the forest, but it wasn’t the tearful girl before her that did as she had bid.

It was me. An avalanche of fragments crashed upon my thoughts.

 

A fine powdery snow rapidly covered rocks and hills as the forest darkened into cloud-covered twilight. Beneath the cedars and the tall plateaus formed by their outstretched limbs is where she found the weeping golden-haired child.

“Come,” was all she said as she pulled the child into her arms, wrapping the little girl into the folds of her own thick fur coat. “Warmth first, then food.”

“No!” With tears freezing upon reddened cheeks, the girl struggled. “I can’t!”

The lady pulled back her hood, tilting graceful up-swept and pointed ears towards the surrounding trees. “Why? Where are your parents? I sense no one for leagues, has something happened?”

Shivering, the girl whispered, “Daddy. He flew away.”

Slender shoulders tightened. “Flew? Is he coming back?”

Fresh sobs as tiny hands clutched at the large coat. “No. He said he had to go. He said there was nothing more he could do.” After a moment of sniffling the child wailed, “I failed Daddy and now he’s gone!”

Tears quickly turned to ice as the lady tried to comfort the distraught child. “Hush, now. Let’s get you indoors; I’m sure he’ll come back.”

“No! He said his brother was coming. Daddy said I had to wait for him, right here. He said it would be up to his brother to judge me.” Squirming with surprising strength for a child her size, the girl escaped and fell into the snow. “I have to stay! Even if he kills me, I have to!”

“If you do you’ll freeze, little one.”

“I don’t care!” Small irises of pure gold peered past the fae’s shoulder and went wide with a mixture of awe and terrible fear. “He’s here.”

Frowning for there had been no sound, the lady turned. The grey clouds momentarily reflected in her own pale icy eyes went black. Stretching from horizon to horizon, feathered wings darker than the night had silently covered the sky.

As she beheld the immense shadow of the angel above, the lady whispered more to herself than to the child.

“I feel cold.”

 

“Tell me about the Mother, please?”

Bright and musical laughter. “What would you like to know that I haven’t shared already?”

“Does she really care for all life?”

“Of course she does, a lifeless world is barren and sleeps through eternity. Mother rejoices with all living beings who share her existence. Their energies are hers, and hers are theirs.”

“Even mine?”

“Yours come from elsewhere. We’ve talked about this.”

“So she doesn’t love me?”

“Oh child, she loves you as I do. With all her heart.”

 

“Saibh! I just can’t do it, it hurts too much!”

The young soon-to-be woman lay on a cot, blankets drenched with her sweat and bunched into knots from legs and arms unable to hold still as agonies twisted through the body.

“I know it hurts. But your uncle is correct. If you cannot draw enough to keep your perceptions locked on the here and now, your mind will shatter. Fear not, for we are here.” Gentle yet strong hands held her down while another washed the forehead’s fever, the cool damp cloth brushing above the linen binding the eyes.

“But the power! It burns!”

“It does, and I’m so sorry but it always will. You grow into your father’s legacy, and it was never meant to be touched by mortal beings.”

“I hate it! And I hate him! Why did he make me? Why?”

“Shh. Now is not the time to question such a thing. You are here and you are loved. By us all, even your uncle. Hold to that thought, stay calm, and do as he has taught. Peace within, peace without. There. Tap a tiny fragment of the smallest shards of the power and hold it within your sight. Focus, Aradia. Focus and let all other visions fall away…”

A painful grunt escaped gritted teeth as the girl’s limbs began to glow.

 

“You’ve known this day was coming for a long time. The archangel’s presence heralded its arrival.”

“But what we have to do…”

“Is terrible, I know. And even asleep, Mother knows. But if we do nothing her mana will be drained beyond what she can ever heal.”

“I’m afraid, Saibh. I always have been.”

“My darling, you are much braver than you know. And we will do this together, you are not alone.”

“You promise?”

“Only if you promise not to falter when the time comes.”

“I…I promise.”

“Then we shall be together until the very end.”

 

I was standing at Danielle’s side in the center of the Mother Stones. I don’t remember moving there. Wings of burning light flowed out behind as I stared at the Queen and her small army of surrounding fae. I heard Danielle cry a whisper of relief and pain, “Jordan.”

All I could feel was rage. To the Queen I shouted, “You will release her. Now!”

Fionnabhair laughed. “You dare make demands?”

“Don’t test me!”

The Queen’s laugh fell away, revealing an anger equal to my own. “Test you? Like you have tested us? This place stands bound to your energies, ripped from its proper place from the heart of Mother’s dream! Has Heaven declared war upon our realm?”

Wait, what?

“Do not pretend you have no notion of what you have done, little one. Our vassals who reside here are full and bloated with the power from your Source. They no longer hear or feel our command! Such impertinence must be purged!”

The crowd murmured with its own rising anger. Around where Zap and the others still stood a gap opened up, as eyes of hatred turned their way. Uh oh.

From elsewhere, Duke Perun called out to the Queen. “Your Majesty, are we to go to war against the Host? Is that wise?” The throng hesitated, and all looked back to their queen.

Fionnabhair replied with confidence. “Worry not, Warleader! For these are not of the Host. That one,” she said as she pointed towards Tsáyidiel, “is Fallen. Likely deluded with false promises from the other who we know could never be a member of their Host. For Aradia, as she has claimed to be, is a sibling to the Nephelim, who are an anathema and abomination to Heaven!”

Zap’s voice rose above the throng. “You invited us freely to your revelries, Queen Fionnabhair! Is this how you treat your guests? Are the fae forsworn to hospitality?”

This again gave the crowd pause for there are rules that are never to be broken, yet their queen replied quickly to the charge.

“Your invitation was to the Ball within the keep, Lord of Sand! And lo - you are no longer within its walls. And what care we of such a lord who’s kingdom turned to dust and was buried millennia ago?” Sweeping an arm over her gathered vassals, she shouted, “Tear them down, mighty warriors! Gain glory in mayhem this day, may it serve as a reminder to our lost priestess what happens to those who defy the fae!”

As the crowd of fur, teeth, and sharp implements surged forward towards me and the others, Zap touched the Eye upon his chest. Sunlight burst outward, blinding all those near him. That spear of light appeared in his hand, and as he hurled fae out of his way with blazing strength he also threw an answer to the Queen. “Speak not of sand, Queen of a broken realm! My monuments and legacy still stand proud on primal earth! How well do they recall your name and deeds?”

He forged a path of destruction to get to me, his spear lancing limbs and bodies into horrible pieces as he went. Khan growled and slashed with razor claws at any who tried to attack the god from behind. Many fae went down covered in their own blood from underestimating the tiger’s speed and fury.

“Release!” A voice shouted from the sidelines, and a cascade of mystic and glowing arrows launched into the air, all of which were aimed expertly at me.

“I don’t think so,” I yelled back, and with an instinctive word threw wide a barrier of light to surround not just me and Danielle but the entire platform within the Temple. The spell-forged arrows incinerated themselves on impact, as the focus of the barrier was to both overload the patterns of their workings and also channel away the disrupted mystical energy at the same time. The first line of sword-wielding red-clad warriors saw this and charged across directly, but as they touched the light they screamed and fell back, smoke rising from blisters covering their skin. Honestly that was a bit of a surprise but I had a sudden intuition: the light would burn anything it didn’t consider ‘pure’. I suspected it was somehow more of the judge of that sort of thing than I was, but in either case those who had followed behind their now-steaming comrades were wary enough to not test it themselves. To encourage such thinking I shouted, “Only those with holy intent may cross!”

Tsáyidiel, his panther-self having taken to the air above the trees with fresh raven wings, called out to me. “My lady, grant thy strength!” Other flying fae - both tiny and huge - were hot in pursuit.

Grabbing at the internal connection I felt with my Hunter, I unleashed raw energy down the circuit. The results were impressive.

Where a winged panther had been a moment prior, an armored four-winged gryphon the size of a front-line battle tank now flew. Tsáyidiel’s raven beak let loose a roar of such power it knocked most of those chasing him right out of the sky. Archers turned their arrows towards him instead, and wings clad in white and gold armor formed a shell around the beast. The missiles simply bounced off.

“Behold!” Tsáyidiel shouted joyfully above the fray. “Once long ago I partook of your Wild Hunt. Now, fae-lings, let me return the favor and remind you what it means to be the prey of the Lord’s Hunter!” With a cry of frenzied glee, he threw himself from the air into the middle of the largest pack of soldiers, wings and teeth tossing them aside faster than eyes could track with a savage grace.

But the Queen was not dismayed and rallied her troops. “Form up! Bind the Kerubim! Sorcerers, tear down that barrier!” Through the portal medieval engines of war were pushed forward: large ballistas with huge chains coiled upon them, the links on the chains engraved with mystic symbols.

Crazy shimmering streams of power slammed into my barrier pulling attention away from the portal. They were trying to overload me instead of the other way around. Pushing back against them caused everything to spin, the symbols of their magic flowing across my sight. As I poured forth more light to counter with raw strength and unravel their elegance by brute force alone, I thought I saw a different way.

Each casting they threw was filled with the energy of this realm, and their Queen controlled that flow. As Zap and Khan fought their way into the protective circle around the temple, I tried to touch the lines threading through the fabric of the realm itself.

This gave the realization of two things. First was that Fionnabhair had been right: when I restored the Temple and the forests in this area I had shifted its own source from the realm’s dream to, in essence, a dream of my own. I hadn’t meant for that to happen, but as usual I had performed something without any real idea of what the fuck I was doing. But the result was that I had control of the land around the temple, not the Queen. Stories of fae royalty directing the terrain itself to rise up and smite their foes flashed through my mind. They were in the books on Circe’s assigned reading list for her class.

I’d read ahead.

Second was that I might have an idea on how to free Danielle from the magic ropes holding her down. It was dangerous, really dangerous, but could work.

Putting the initial notion into practice, I formed an image in my mind before gesturing with power and will at the lakeshore. Symbols much like what I had seen in Nick’s scrolls flew from fingertips to carry my intentions, and the ground shook in response. Sharp and craggy stones burst from the wetland to impale soldiers where they stood while trees extended their branches, entangling and skewering those unfortunate enough to be within reach.

Zap was standing at my side and shouting at me. I hadn’t been listening and gave him a blank stare. He repeated himself and this time I heard.

“How long can you maintain this?” He was pointing at the barrier and the range of magical assault that was being levied against it.

“As long as I need to!” I growled back, my rage at the Queen sustaining my will. But he was right to ask, she had pure numbers and more were rushing through that portal every minute.

“Confidence only gets one so far!” With a thrust of his spear a blast of power lanced outward at two huge trolls who were busy trying to pound through Tsáyidiel’s wings with their fists. The trolls went up in white flames, staggering backwards, allowing Tsáyidiel to leap forward and rip at one’s throat with his beak. A pillar of wet scarlet rushed out of the wound. It was a terrible sight of blood mixed with cooking flesh.

A synchronized assault from the elven sorcerers almost blasted through my shield, to be prevented only by a line of golden Egyptian hieroglyphics swirling along the outside deflecting enough away from the spots that had fallen weak from my inattention.

“Maintain the anchor points and don’t get distracted!” Zap yelled before turning to evaluate the battlefield. He focused his sight on the Queen as she stood at the top of the small rise before the portal. “Hold here!” Spinning the spear of light in front of him, he took three huge steps towards the edge of the circle before leaping high into the air, somersaulting over the stones only to crash right into the middle of the spellcasters where that spear flashed wildly about slicing many of them down. Those floating golden Egyptian symbols spiraled in and formed their own moving sphere which granted protection from the survivor’s instant energetic counter-attack. With a mighty shout he slammed the end of that electric spear into the ground, causing it to disappear and its energy explode outward. All foes within twenty-feet were instantly knocked backwards onto their asses. They steamed where they fell.

“Queen Fionnabhair!” he called out as the spear reformed in his grip. “How many of your people shall fall to my blade before we settle this?” A being of mythic might with the head of a hawk and a right eye filled with the flames of its own burning sun stood proudly within that circle of fallen foes. All traces of Zap had been washed away by the power, and Heru - a god of magic and of war - now shouted defiantly at the Queen.

At her side Gwydion unslung the sword on his back, intending to meet the threat of a rival god. But Fionnabhair pushed him aside, face contorting with fury as she stepped forward. “Come then, godling! If you believe you still have the power to challenge me, then let us measure the depths of your folly!” Her dress rippled with each step, shifting a dark brown and becoming coarse as it grew over her arms and her neck until it formed a second skin of solid bark. All that remained of her fair and light complexion were twin orbs of pale ice glaring towards the rival sun deity.

Giving the piercing cry of a hunting bird of prey, the god bounded up the hill towards her as blue and silver wings burst from his back to carry him over the heads of her warriors and out of the reach of their sharp implements of death. Spinning in the air he held his spear out point first, becoming a burning missile of sunfire to slam into the hastily cast tree-growth that sprouted outward from her hands into a primitive shield of thick interwoven branches. The ground shook with the force of the impact but the Queen’s feet had sunk into the earth and taken root, and with her own cry of exertion she slung the fiery missile around and past her, even as shards of flaming wood exploded from the collision upon her shield. Heru crashed into the ground off to her side but rolled with it to leap again to his feet.

The Queen’s barkskin hands were broken and scorched yet the wood was already regrowing. Heru had a number of cuts from the brambles, but instead of blood they leaked raw sunfire. The hawk-god shrieked a joyous sound of battle and readied himself for another strike at the Queen.

That’s when I felt them. All the little fae who had danced and sang at the restoration of the temple and their forest.

“For Aradia!” Shining with all the light I had given them, they charged from the trees at our attackers. Even Bristlebeak, who held a small stick as if it was the mightiest of spears. With branches, fists, tiny hammers, antlers and fangs, they assaulted our foes. They were wild and beautiful and earnest, but they weren’t warriors. Not like the army of sidhe Fionnabhair commanded.

Their brave attack, while at first a surprise for fae mesmerized by the duel between their queen and the invading god, was swiftly met with a brutal response by those far better trained for combat. I shouted for them to stop, to fall back, but they weren’t listening. The hawk-god also paused, spinning forth more Egyptian glyphs to dart across the battlefield to try and shield the little ones. But there were far too many for his magic to reach in time as the mix of weapons and battle spells fell upon them all. They were connected to me and I felt their pains one after the other, felt the wet and bloody impacts on their skins as they fell, many never to rise again. My mind and senses filled with their cries of agony and the horrible silence of their deaths.

“No!” Through tears I examined the ropes binding Danielle, searching for a way to stop the slaughter which had become all too painfully real. If we could just get her free, maybe we could flee and thus remove the cause of the fighting. The sigil-marked ropes spelled out exactly what they were: manifestations of the energetic arteries that lay at the heart of the realm.

Taking hold of a loop of her prison in a fist, I gripped that heart with my will. To my inner sight it shifted and took the form of a thick novel, filled with page after page of elegant script. The story of the dream of this place lay within my grasp: its words, its meaning, its entire tale since the first moment the Mother had dreamed it into being. And caught within those pages, like a bookmark affixed with glue, was Danielle’s spirit.

Desperate with the sensations of the continuing carnage all around and furious at my niece once again being chained against her will, I ripped one of those pages right out of its binding.

The army of fae - all of those who were not tied to me - staggered and wailed with horror, most falling to their knees in sudden agony. Just as I was tied now to all of those who fought in my name, so too were all the other fae bound to the heart of this realm. Without meaning to, I had my hand metaphorically at each and every one of their throats. Even their Queen gasped in pain, moaning loudly enough for me to hear. “What have you done?”

Opening burning eyes to stare at her, I kept my hand firmly on that rope and the book it represented. “Danielle goes free or this place shall be naught but memory!”

Duke Perun, limping from a collision with Tsáyidiel, cried out. “Your Majesty, the realm!”

To emphasize the point I took hold of another page, and while they watched slowly tore it away. More fae collapsed around us, some clutching at their chests in horrible pain.

“Wait! Stop!” Fionnabhair, those icy eyes wide with terror as her subjects fell.

“Say it! She goes free!”

Tsáyidiel regarded the scene impassively, sitting upon the field of battle to hulk over those around him. Zap, with a face once again human, had an expression of rising dismay. “Aradia,” he asked in horror, “What are you doing?”

Through gritted teeth I said angrily, “I’m ending this.”

The Queen protested, her voice shrill. “She is my sister and betrayed her people! You have no right to interfere!”

Betrayed? Like hell! “Siabh died trying to save her people! Before the Mother became so barren she’d be unable to trickle anything even to her dreams! I make claim, Queen Fionnabhair, that this one here is blood of my blood, heart of my heart. Danielle goes free, or else I shred every fiber of magic that you’ve bonded her to.”

A field of uncertain pain-rimmed eyes all turned to the stammering Queen. “You…you’d kill us…each and every one of us…”

“I warned you not to test me. Now choose!” In that other space I took hold of another page.

Bark-rimmed eyes widened and the Queen lowered her head. “So be it.” With a gesture and phrase the ropes around Danielle fell slack, releasing her spirit from being bound to this place and realm.

I, however, did not let go of the words held firmly in my grasp.

“Swear it, Queen Fionnabhair! Swear that she is free to go, unharmed, and untroubled by you and yours! You will let her live in peace!”

With a tightly clenched knotty fist, the Queen acquiesced. “I so swear! Binding to me and all my vassals!”

The fae army still on their feet went silent with shock, which made the low moans of the wounded all the more audible. As they all stared at me in that painful silence, I had a thought. “Erica Lain, where are you?”

From the edge of the trees hiding behind a large rock, Erica slowly stood up. “Uh, yes?”

I pointed to her. “She goes with us too. Release her from your service, and take no reprisals on her or her loved ones.”

“You demand too much!” Fionnabhair protested.

“Do I? Or shall I continue ripping this place to its foundations and beyond?”

“Fine!” The Queen threw her hands up in frustration. “She is released from service to me and my House, free to leave with no future reprisals from us. Good riddance! Any other crazy demands, angel?”

Erica gaped at me. Yeah, I surprised myself with that one too.

Looking around the wreckage of the battlefield my eyes fell to all of those surrounded by Zap’s little shields of power. “Yes. Those now bound to my energy are also free to leave with me. I won’t abandon them to your mercies.”

Fionnabhair looked like she was about to have a stroke. “You cannot be serious.”

“What option do I have? I did not intend for them to become mine, but what’s done is done. Can you rebind them with how they are now?”

She stared at a nearby glowing deer - one holding a bloody sword-hilt between its teeth - and shook her head ruefully. “No, not if they were to resist my call.”

“Then let them make their own choices. Stay and be rebound or follow me.”

“On one condition,” the Queen countered. “Restore the damage you have done to our realm! And do so without binding the entire place to you in the process, otherwise none of this has any meaning. It will unravel if you leave it in this state!”

Zap gave me an angry glare from where he stood, wings folded upon his back. He was obviously extremely upset. “Please tell me you know how to do that. Did you memorize the full pattern before you so angrily ripped it to pieces?”

“Uh…” I totally hadn’t. And the entire book of the dream began to crumble between my spiritual fingers.

Oh shit.