---

 

"Another head hangs lowly
Child is slowly taken
And the violence, caused such silence
Who are we mistaken?"

Zombie by the Cranberries

Chapter 1 - Rules From Mother

Britain in the 1960s

Bellatrix Black
"Beware, sweetling, beware what wishes you make," her mother told her before her sisters were born, and before her father began his tutelage in the dark arts. Well before he took the strap of his belt to her when she asked too many questions. And before her mother stopped caring about her. Always that one warning to never make a wish without thinking. There were other rules, of course, rules for everything one could think. Being the blood of the blessed twenty-eight only made the rules more complicated. Even as she grew older all she learned were new rules and more unpleasant punishments were applied.

Bella grew up into the perfect little doll for her parents, well, at least until after Cissy was born. First, she was a good girl at Hogwarts and even started preparing hard for her OWLs. Problem was, that was until she kissed Genie Fitzgerald in fifth year; then it all went to shit. That Umbridge bint hadn't tattled on her or the rest of the bloody Gryffindors turned on Genie quicker than a snitch. No, instead her parents were informed and so were the Fitzgeralds. The two families had once married amongst themselves back during the 18th and their alliance was ended. A 'pureborn' woman did not kiss or lust after other women, and when she was dragged home that Yule, a week early, all she knew was pain.

It wasn't just the beatings, it was the severe depression created by the utter contempt her mother held for her. If not for Andromeda she would have likely hung herself finally after she gave in to those little whispers who told her to end it. Narcissa was the one who took away her knives to prevent her from slitting her wrists. Without her little sisters, Bella wouldn't have survived Yule. let alone Summer. After she was outed at school she was cast aside with the likes of Grindlewald as another 'dark witch' who was tainted by the shadow. By the end of it, Genie was forbidden from being left in a room alone with her and half the purebloods in school treated her like a leper.

At least she had her sisters, and by Morgana, they were stuck at her side. After fifth year ended, Summer was as miserable as predicted. The eldest black sister experienced all of her records burned before her eyes. Bella's room was rendered down to nothing but a single armoire, her girliest clothes, and her bed. Oh, sure she has the illusion of luxury created by the pureblood life. Monkee, her beloved House-Elf Governess, still brought her blackberry scones with clotted cream (her favorite) when she could steal it from the kitchen. During the day her father trained her in dueling and during the night her mother schooled her on proper etiquette till midnight. Whenever she was let out of the house it was always under the eyes of a relative.

School was the only time she could be herself, but it was always under the worry that one of her "friends" would send word to her parents. She knew that toady Umbridge was against her, and she didn't trust Louis Malfoy. Another year at Hand her seventeenth birthday came and went. For more than a year she'd viewed both parents speaking to other important heads of household. The worst was Alphonse LeStrange, the head of the infamous family with its Grindlewald sympathies. Dark wizards of the highest order, but had fallen on hard times since the defeat by her least favorite teacher decades before.

"Bella!" her mother barked at her one evening when she was doing needlepoint in the parlor. The young ravenhead looked up from the order and shook her head. Cobwebs parted from her vision and she returned to focus. After years of faking to do needlepoint and embroidery, Bella was very apt at repeating the same action over and over again.

"Yes....mother?" she asked.

Druella Rosier Black let out a demonstrative sigh at her daughter's reticence. Once Bellatrix had been the apple of her eye, and now she was the literal Black sheep of the family. The tall woman's frame dwarfed her elfin daughter, of the three sisters, she was the shortest. Green eyes bore into her daughter's as the girl did her best not to flinch in her mother's presence.

"Get up you have," her mother rubbed her jaw, "-you have a guest to meet."

Bella's eyes flicked from her mother to the door. The grand parlor of Black House was resplendent in nineteenth-century fashion. A grand fireplace sat at one end, its redbrick disappeared under velvet-covered walls. Above it on the mantle sat the five pictures of her beloved family. Her parents each standing before the grand family tree of their family each standing quite grim and proper. The Black daughters were then featured in each of their rooms, either sitting or appearing to be doing a particular hobby. She liked to use little details around her to hide her dislike of conversation and desire by others to force her into it.

Smoothing out her skirts the young girl rose to her feet and followed as her mother beckoned her. The drab hallways of the house were just more placeholders for over glorious paintings depicting the triumphs of the House of Black. Her black mary janes thudded on the ground as she tried her best to reman the appropriate distance from her mother. Druella swept her out into the large foyer of the family home, with its grand chairs, Egyptian divan, and massive classical Edwardian couch. The family colors appeared in minute details with black being the primary accent of various pieces of furniture.

What she met in the foyer was one Rodulphus Aleister Lestrange, a tall pale lightly tan youth with the pallor of someone who spent too much time over a potion cauldron. His fine robes were finely kept and his hair fell in a medium length above his head. Pale blues met hers and she felt overcome with worry. What is he doing here? The thought swirled as she felt the worry growing with each step, her mind unable to focus or remotely slow down.

"Mother?" she forced herself to say, "who is this?"

"Dearest, you -know- Rodulphus," Druella stated.

"Yes...but why is he here?" she snapped causing her mother to frown.

"Oh well Bellatrix, he is here as your father, and his father finally agreed to your match." The words caused her entire world to freeze and the thudding of her heart to grow with each beat. Thuddening consumed her hearing as all of her own internal worries rushed to the forefront.

"Bellatrix?" Rodulphus spoke and stared at the girl. Her eyes were distant, her lips slightly parted, and her breathing slowly gaining in speed.

"Merlin," Druelle cursed before snaking her hand into her daughter's thick curls and yanking hard. "Listen here dearest, you are to be married, and you will do as your father says."

Bella instantly snapped out of her decision-riddled panic. Her mind slowed back to that instant as she realized that not only was she being cast aside, she was being married off to end any scandal attached to her name.

"Ye-yes mother," she spoke before turning her gaze back to Rodulphus.

"We are to be married a year and a day after you complete Hogwarts," he replied.

"A year and a day?" she asked curiously attempting to keep her mind from speeding up again.

"Yes, it has a significance in the Old Ways," he replied.

"Ah - interesting," she replied.

All she was now was a piece of property to be sold? To be given away?! By the Old Gods and the Old Magick she wished there was something better.

I just want to love who I wish to - on my own.

But her face showed nothing of her internal turmoil, only the obedient teenager her parents' hands trained her to be.

"Good, now you must return for NEWT preparation in your room," her mother snapped. And she was taken away back to her room. Back to the place where she would await a marriage, she didn't want, and her destiny to disappear into obscurity.

Night, May 2nd, 1998 - Greengrass Estate

Bellatrix Black
"Beware of deals made where the roads meet."
-Gaelic Witch Proverb

It was a night consumed in the horror of loss and the pain of the unknowable. In a single instant, a once glorious day was rendered in an instant to be ash in her hands. Her lord was dead, killed by the very boy who now stood as Master of Death. Oh how had she fallen, and how quickly she fled. Craven, she was a coward and fled in the face of the end of the Death Eater cause. Sure, there were likely others who could rise to power and claim it in the name of their Dark Lord. But no one was the Dark Wizard Tom Riddle was, nor would anyone ever claim his mantle ever again. No, all she could do was hold her little girl to her chest, and do her best to find a way to keep her away from the grimey hands of Shacklebolt's ministry!

Above her the storm clouds thundered and threatened rain. She streaked through the air on her broom as a cold wind bit her flesh and tried to kiss her daughter’s face. Delphini was only a toddler, two years maybe, just old enough to remember the barest hints of her mother's warm embrace. The rain finally started and as her black dress became sodden with the freezing rain she finally sighted her destination, Greengrass House. Home of her once love, Genevieve Fitzgerald Greengrass, and perhaps the last hope for her daughter.

By now the cold wind was shearing at her face, and her lips and nose were numb. The woman's ears hurt from the cold and as she came in to land her booted feet skipped over the top of a hedge lining the House's driveway. With her broom in one hand and her daughter in the other, she leaned against the door for a breather. The wind appeared to be still as she reached the House's perimeter. Perhaps award of some sort to redirect the weather's fury? Genie was always a good weather witch. The memory gave her a little respite in the face of what she would ask.

I could have gone to Cissy...but no...she can't know where I'm going.

It was the death of her Dark Lord that gave Bellatrix Black the clarity of mind that her actions were going to finally come crashing down around her. Consequences waiting in the wings for years were about to seize her. The aging witch knew she had her daughter to think about, but her sisters as well. Even her middling sister Andromeda mattered to her after years of silence from both stubborn sisters.

Taking a moment to compose herself and a Drying Charm to clean off her form she knocked thrice on the aging oak door. The massive iron knocker thundered as a loud crack sounded out beside her. There stood a small House Elf dressed in a piece of sown tapestry with the sigil of the House on it in a mockery of the old liveried servants of England.

"What does Misses LeStrange need?" the Elf asked. The words caused Bella to recoil in rage, but as she did she could feel eyes on her as if she were surrounded. Dammit, Genie must have hired someone to guard the House. Stupid Irish Hitwizards.

Her mind returned to calm as much as it could, and whatever eyes watching her removed themselves.

"I need to speak with Mistress Greengrass, now, if possible, for the safety of my daughter!" she said, pitching her voice as an adult as she could get. Her markedly childish voice was useless now.

"Mistress Fitzgerald Greengrass will see you then in the parlor," the elf disapparated with a crack. A loud groan came from beside her as the door opened inward and a rush of warm air greeted her gaze. Unlike the interior of Black House, Greengrass House was filtered with pleasant bright cold colors. Greens of the family's generally Slytherin heritage bled through from what Bella could make out from the threshold. Delphini started to move in her arms as she held the little girl closer and the words "mumah" came out as a whisper.

"Sshh, sweetling, mum has you," she said and took a step into the foyer. A massive crested shield stood over the opposite doorway of the foyer. Beside her sat a rack to doff one's hat and cloak, and the elf from earlier waited just inside. The sigil of the Greengrass Dynasty was the Or Laurel over a Vert Field. "Honor and Prestige" read in elegant calligraphy below it. Unlike many of the old Norman families that made up the golden twenty-eight, the Greengrasses claimed descent from the older Anglo-Saxon and Norse families from the Danelaw. Even now as she strolled forward the Elf watched her with large liquid brown eyes. The foyer was smaller than that of Black House, but as she made her way down the hall she could feel the words of the family in the back of her mind.

In the wake of staying neutral during the war, the Greengrass family's home was stoic in its design. The usual pictures of previous family heads raced across the walls as she came to a stop in front of the grand parlor before her. Immediately she noticed how both Greengrass and Black House shared designers in some fashion. At the end of the parlor was a large fire with a massive family tree painted elegantly upon its brick chimney line. Not a single name was blasted off of it giving the idea of family unity, a strength compared to the fallen status of her own.

A circle of chairs sat nestled beside the fireplace and as soon as she entered the Elf snapped their fingers to make a large red fire appear in it. More Gryffindor colors appeared on the furniture in the form of red pillows with red accents. A twisted snake of Slytherin rested on the right of the mantle and a roaring lion's head on the opposite side.

"Mistress will be here soon, please take a seat," the Elf stated in the same headstrong tone as before.

Swishing in her skirts she settled down near the fire to warm her body and Delphini's leaving her utterly alone in the massive room. Strange among all the things excluding the usual tapestries of ancestry and grand victories was a massive upright silver mirror standing near the fireplace. The mirror was large enough to fill an entire doorway which made Bella wonder what it was doing there for. For a moment she ignored it and leaned back in the chair. Her mind was already racing far too much for her liking that day. Just after the battle she fled the Hogwarts ground and broke into her daughter's hiding place. Now there they were alone, hoping for help from an old flame from her schooling days.

A loud thump awoke her from her reverie, and then the creaking sound of a floorboard. Her eyes snapped up to the hallway facing to her right, and she noted a lean-robed figure standing there. As the clouds shifted outside a bit of moonlight bled in from a window opposite the doorway revealing pale wan skin, and dark silvery hair. Robes fitted over some sort of tactical armor similar to what she glimpsed muggle peace officers wearing, and then a long tall staff rested in the woman's hands. Bella felt her blood run cold as she glimpsed the staff and noted the scrolling knotwork carved into it. What made her blood cold though wasn't the fact it was a staff, no it was a fucking spear.

The woman's eyes were one singular color, blacker than night, and her lips were painted silver like her hair. Her hair was plaited into two long braids falling over both shoulders. A thick Mjolnir hammer necklace hung from around her neck.

"Ah yes, the craven one is here," the woman spoke in a light singsong voice.

"What did you just-" Bella started to say when a thud of the woman's spear quieted her. Stepping in closer, Bella noted the sharp features of the blonde, and the muscle rippling underneath the armor.

"She comes," the woman said while canting her head right.

"Okay, where the bloody hell IS SHE?" Bella demanded.

"I said - she -comes-, you twat," the blonde giggled.

The glass of the mirror was starting to frost over by the time she noticed the blonde jab her spear at it. A loud clink was heard as a series of Futhark runes started to appear glowing an eerie ghostly green. As the runes sorted themselves into an oval outlining the edge of the mirror the frosting effect came to an end. A single hand hit the mirror hard face down. Then the finger began to draw a swirl as the mirror's surface rippled like a pond struck by a stone. Slowly, the hand pushed through the mirror until the full body of Genie Greengrass was present. She stepped aside and out came two men including her husband, Trystan Arctos Greengrass. The other man she barely remembered.

Three pairs of eyes spied their visitor and Genie immediately scoffed before turning around to face the blonde. The two spoke in a hush of whispers while the two men simply waited. Bella noted that much like school Genie was wearing her long brown hair up in a simple bun held in place by a black emerald band. She was dressed in long sodden robes with similar combat armor underneath as the blonde. Both men however were a bit less dramatic in appearance. Trystan had a mop of short-cropped brown curly hair and a pair of curious hazel eyes. Even after losing Genie to him, Bella respected the man as he removed a cigarette from behind his ear and handed it to her.

"Really muggle cancer sticks?" she asked not to remotely protest the action.

"He's dead Bella, its time for a fag," he chuckled.

This left the remaining man, a broad shoulder man dressed not in robes, but a pair of dark pine green fatigues. A beret sat atop his head, and a balaclava hung from around his face revealing sun-tanned skin and a pair of cold green eyes. Unlike Trystan, the man didn't have a wand holster or even a wand, instead of making do with long blackthorn carved walking stick. Even if it was a ridiculous Irish tradition, the walking stick echoed with power as she felt the magic in the room begin to sizzle from the three of them.

Bella set Delphini down gently so her head lay against a pillow before she stepped forward and used her wand to light her gift. A smooth inhale of smoke gave her the nicotine rush she needed and helped to break the ice.

"Bellatrix," Genieve addressed her after speaking with the blonde, "-why- in Merlin's chode are you doing here?"

"Really...chode?" she coughed out some smoke.

"Yes Bella, the wars fucking over, HOW BY WINTER are you alive?" she growled.

"I apparated just before that Weasley bint could kill me.." She adjusted the cigarette. "I didn't want my daughter to be an orphan like the Dark Lord."

"Well wonderful," Genie exclaimed, "why are you in MY MANOR and not at Cissy's or hell, your fucking mudblood loving sister?"

The words caught her on edge and a loud feral snarl erupted from her mouth. Even if Andromeda married a mudblood only a member of her family could disparage her for it.

"Oi, hold yerself dere LeStrange," the Irishman spoke.

"Shut up Rori, no one gives three fucks about your opinion," Bella sighed.

"Well aincha finally showing some balls after you chose that noseless fucker over us," he chuckled.

"Do not call him that!" Bella snapped and reached for her wand. Immediately she found the bladed edge of the blonde's spear against her throat, and a bronze-plated walking stick hovering near the opposite side of her skull.

"Careful Bella, we might hav' loved each other once, but I will not hesitate to end you if you hurt my kin,' ' Genie stated.

"Fine."

Bella holstered her wand and held her hands aloft in peace. Even as her mind raced and she tried to think of a way to fight out she reached into her head and clawed all of the thoughts together. It wasn't the time for this bollocks

"I can't involve Cissy....I've already ruined her life," she stated truthfully, and felt her heartbreak as she did. Even as the Dark Lord lived in Malfoy Manor she did her best to keep her sister and nephew safe. Lucius could burn Tartarus all she cared about.

"Smart....but why me?" Genie asked while the men remained silent.

"Because even if I could flee to Europe they'll find me before I can cross the Urals," she replied.

"You want to hide in Ireland, don't you." Genie said flatly.

"Yes....," Bellatrix croaked.

"You are damn insane Black, you really think I can somehow convince a Taoiseach to let you live on their land?" she replied.

"No...I want you to teach me how to summon a faerie so I can make a deal."

Everyone in the room went silent, except for the blond. Her eyes widened slightly as she grasped carefully manicured fingers around the Mjolnir of her necklace. A few words of Norse spilled from her lips as she appeared to be in prayer.

"Now, I know you're daft," Genie exclaimed, "you're gonna summon the Crone, aren't you? Dammit, Bella!"

"I -have- no choice," she bit out.

"There is always a choice. Surrender, go back to Azkaban, Cissy can care for your daughter," Trystan spoke up.

"She's the Lord's daughter, they'll never let her survive, and I will never return to that hell on earth," her shrieked.

"Dammit Bella, even after all these years you always have to be so fucking dramatic," Genevieve sighed and waved at the other woman to follow her out of the room.

 

---

 

Early Morning May 4th, 1998 - Western Wales

Bellatrix Black
The night gave way to early morning, and Bella could feel the remnants of her strength slowly leaving her. Even with her increased endurance after breaking out of Azkaban, she was still a shadow of her former self. But in the singular hour she had to listen to Genie she made do with what was handed to her. First, a series of items to do the ritual, and second a portkey to get her to the location to conduct it. Of all the items to choose from, the portkey was made from a pageboy cap. Some sort of random item she was sure a snatcher had stolen off a muggle-born father or grandfather. The stupid thing did its job and as she popped back into reality she found herself in the middle of nowhere in Wales, a lonely outcropping of land jutting out into the Irish Sea in front of her.

"Mum?" Delphini asked as she sat down on a large boulder and watched her mother prepare the regents. Only Old Magick required this amount of preparation and all the while Bellatrix was angry she hadn't put more effort into ancient runes. Covering a piece of rock in a moss knoll with ancient Tartessian Runes wasn't easy, nor was it easy in the middle of a bloody storm. The eldest Black Sister may have been Brightest-Of-Her-Age, yet she still faced the challenge of understanding her allies' queer ethnic magic.

"Yes sweetling?" she asked, looking over at the dirty blond toddler.

"It's cold," she piped up and pulled the blanket over her small body. Bella froze in the middle of her work and conjured a small fire to keep her daughter warm.

The work itself was proving far more daunting than she would have guessed. Not only was there the physical ritual component, but a mental and philosophical part also lay ahead of her. According to Genie any and all wishes she made before if remotely attached to the entity she desired to summon, could come up in negotiation. And, one of the few things she had learned from her mother was to always be careful what she wished for.

Making a circle of salt was easy, and then painting the runes onto the rock wasn't really the hardest. What was going to be the hardest though would be snapping her own wand as part of the ritual itself. Her hand hurt from the cut to her finger to make the blood for the runes, and her small series of notes on the design were already stained ochre from keeping them out of the wind. Now, all that lay were the words, the name, and the intent. The intent was to snap her wand and cut herself off from British Wizardry for the rest of her life.

Her daughter was worth it.

It took nearly two hours, but after reconjuring the flames for her daughter again, she finished. A small rounded stone covered in the proper incantation in Old Irish. The words themselves she'd whisper under her breath as she broke off her connection to magic. If she was lucky, the patron connected to the ritual would answer and appear. If she was even luckier, the patron would kill her or her daughter on the spot.

She glanced one last time over at Delphini who was shivering and staring at the fire while mumbling to herself. Her daughter’s existence was perhaps the only true gift the Dark Lord gave her, and she would cherish it to the end of her days. Now, Bellatrix Black had to ensure her daughter’s survival and give her life away from the infighting of the already corrupt new British Ministry of Magic.

"Just wait for a few minutes sweetling and I'll be done," she walked over to whisper in her daughter’s ear. Bella gave her daughter one last heartfelt hug before turning back to face the stone. Fingering her wand in her right hand she sighed. Of all the things she was going to do, she never thought it would require her to give up magick itself. For a few seconds, she just stared off into space her eyes flickering between her wand and the blood-covered rock. The ring of salt itself was starting to get dislodged by the wind. "SHIT!"

The Dark Witch rushed over and knelt before the stone and set the wand atop it. Letting out a sharp breath she began the incantation and as the words came gurgling out of her throat she could feel how alien they were to her. Three times she had to repeat the words, and thrice she said them. Just as she crested the final syllable she held aloft her wand and began to gently pull down either side. As the pressure increased she could see her wand bend in protest and just as the curve became too much SNAP, it broke in half. A shimmer of bright green light filled her vision as she fell on her back in shock.

"Can't believe I broke my own wand," she croaked and rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah, look at tat, a feckin English witch did sometin right ta get me attention," the soft gravely voice that replied to her came from near her daughter. A quick roll and she was on her feet to see the form of a seven-foot-tall woman sitting beside Delphini. The small dark witchling was asleep against the woman's side and the fire had grown in size with a massive black kettle over it.

"The Morrigan?" Bellatrix asked carefully, licking her lips nervously.

"Tis me." The woman replied, her burning green eyes reading the dark witch carefully before she patted the spot on the boulder beside her.

"I seek asylum for my daughter and myself," the mother said suddenly.

"Yeah, and if I loik yiz story I'll consider lettin ye come ta wit me." Whatever finality that existed in the creature's words, Bella wasn't daft enough to question it.

The Morrigan was a seven-foot-tall woman with black curled hair that fell plaited over her shoulders in thick silver-fitted waves. Her skin was pale in the moonlight, but it shined with a strange unearthly glimmer. Both of her eyes seemed to leak green fire as she leaned forward and bit her blackened lips while stirring something in the pot before her. At her side rested a long black oak spear fitted with a quicksilver color blade. Her limbs seemed almost overlong for her body as the woman opened a leather pack between her feet to toss in more herbs to the pot.

"Sa - speak yer wish mortal," the woman's voice rumbled.

"I wish for safety for my daughter and myself, a new identity and protection from the British Ministry." Her words came out rushed, and she could tell as she said them that already her wish asked for too much.

"Ye ere a fool Bellatrix Black, but I will gran yer wish. Understand dis - it will cost ye, mar than ye ever desire," the woman finished adding to her work in the pot. Gently she picked up the pot without worrying about the heat. A large wooden spoon served it into bowls for both Bella and Delphini. With an indication to eat the eldest Black sister sat down by her daughter to eat.

"What is the price?" she asked.

"You - yer entire self is the price Bellatrix." The woman's words were now darker than before as she rose to her full height, "jus like ye drove people to madness I will take fram ye an' make ye mine."

A single sharpened talon rubbed against her chin and Bella realized it was the woman's right thumb. The massive hand could have smothered her alone, and the woman began to feel horror roiling in her stomach. But she couldn't stop herself from eating the food. Steadily as she ate she could feel her body going still. Her eyes began to burn as did her skin. She wanted to scream to unleash years of pain from her mind and body, but all she could do was gasp. Delphini didn't seem to mind as her mother fell on the ground, nor that her new friend was chuckling at the woman's torture.

Late Morning, November 3rd, 1998 - The Burrow

Hermione Granger
"....Wait." Ron Weasely stated in between eating breakfast, a pile of griddle cakes disappearing at an alarming rate. "You're telling me you aren't a man or a woman?"

"Yes...Morgana - Ron it's not that hard."

"Bollocks, are you a bloke or not?" Weasely asked.

"I AM NEITHER!" Harry snapped hard, their hands resting along their hips, green eyes glaring at their friend.

"I mean it's just confusing and seems kind of nonsensical-"

"Ron - for Merlin's sake, shut up!" Ginny Weasely barked as she slipped an arm around their partner's waist.

This was Hermione Granger's morning, and by the highest powers of magic, she was watching once again as her ex-boyfriend shoved his foot in his mouth. Already six months had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts and Shacklebolt's rise to power in the Ministry. Her parents were still missing because of her plan to obliviate them and she was living in a room given to her at the recently rebuilt Burrow. Like always the emphatic Ronald Weasely decided to speak first before using his brain, a trait she once considered genuine, before she realized it was just annoying.

Harry, was a name in progress for her best friend who'd undergone severe changes in the last six months. No longer was that mop of black hair remotely short, but instead it fell in a long cut reminiscent of her Godfather, Sirius. The young person's body had definitely become more androgynous over the months as they expressed their true self. Hermione could understand the desire to change and to cut out what she was. Trauma was like that, invisible scars that continued to sit over gangrenous flesh and memories. She stared at her and the foundation over it to cover it up. Even now she felt the shadow pain of that fucking knife slicing into her skin.

Blood leaking out of it, and the searing pain of severed muscle and tendon.

Fuck. I need to keep the images under control...

"Mione?" she heard and pulled herself back to the real world.

"Yes Gin?" she asked. Her friend's half-shaved head tilted and looked at her with slight worry. Since the Battle, Ginny began training to join the Holyhead Harpies with Harry while they completed their NEWTs out of school. The two had surprisingly pulled themselves together into a semblance of a relationship, which seemed healthy at least from the outside.

"Where were you at?" she asked.

Brushing aside her own bushy hair, the young woman sighed. Even outside of her preferred braids, her hair was always in her face, and refused to work with her. It didn't help that while much of Wizarding Britain was multi-ethnic they seemed just as useless in black haircare as the others.

"Just trying to pull myself back together," she rolled her eyes, "plus I'm thinking of maybe getting a twist or something. Or even dying my hair red."

"Oh damn, that would be hot!" Ginny replied.

"Thanks, Gin," she replied and considered calling an old friend of her mom's to arrange an appointment.

"Do you miss Ron?" Ginny asked out of the blue.

"Yes and no, he's a good guy but - honestly he's too insensitive for his own good." She shook her head before rubbing her arm gently.

"I agree," she said as they watched Harry exit the room with a growl. "They're thinking of changing their name, something about all the pain they've felt over the years."

Hermione glanced at her friend and offered her a hug whom Ginny accepted wordlessly. "I wish they had told us more about those hellacious fools of an aunt and uncle!"

"Yeah me too Gin," she rubbed her arm again, nearly smearing the foundation. "But Harry's been through so much and Dumbledore manipulated them. Plus Snape didn't help one bit."

"Are they wearing makeup?" she asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Yeah, some eyeliner and some mascara...you wanna go shopping later?" Ginny replied and asked.

Hermione considered her words and gave a simple nod. Shopping could easily be therapeutic and honestly getting out of the Burrow away from Ron was probably a good idea. Plus, seeing Harry explore theirself was something that gave her a bit of a smile in her recently dark world.

Midday, November 3rd, 1998 - Inish Eile

Bellatrix Black
Six damn months of tutelage and change. Her body was remade subtly, yet still, recast to the will of her new patron. Time seemed to pass slower than possible on the Island of Inish Eile, and all she could do was fucking experience it! Toddling about the island was boring as hell after the first four weeks and the realization that magical wards kept it out of muggle sight. What was even worse were the mouthy House Elves that made their home at the large ancient pre-Norman castle. Several didn't even speak English to her and instead refused to even listen to a word she said.

Delpini had flourished and fallen in love with the eerie faerie island they found themselves on. The Elves taught her fucking Irish, and she picked it up at rapid speed, far faster than Bella herself. Then there were all the potions, tinctures, and worse she drank, embalmed in, and bathed in. What resulted was extensive pain and honestly torture. All the while the tall form of the Morrigan would appear to remind her of all her foolish actions and follies. Every sin was recounted as the changes began and ended. First, her teeth fell out painfully and regrew as well as her hair. Then as the days passed her eyes began to gain an inner ring of energy light that seemed to always remain with them.

What was worse though was how much her body hurt. Fourteen years in Azkaban destroyed her health with a mix of physical abuse, malnutrition, and steady mental decline. The mental damage remained rotting thoughts and gangrenous feelings necrotic from years of neglect and carefully applied suppression. Whatever trauma applied to her by her foes, and the emotions devoured by the Dementors were covered up by obvious mental irrationality. Yet, somehow Morrigan had started to heal what she could of Bellatrix's mind. For the first time as she sat on a bench facing the great Northern Atlantic. Dark water lapped at the beach just meters away from her feet, and as she leaned against the stone bench she marveled at her place of exile.

An exile she burningly wished for.

Morgana's tits I really have gone completely nutty.

Chewing on her lip Bella casually splayed her body across the bench as she felt a lonely emptiness in her hand. Six months ago she'd snapped her wand to summon her savior, and given up her magic. Today though, today her patron had informed her she was getting a new wand, or "foci' as the faerie called it. Whatever the faerie wanted, Bella was unsure what to make of it. Morrigan or "Erin" as she preferred to be called was about as approachable and friendly as her mother Druella. A stark difference between Erin and her mother was that Erin appeared to actually care about her charge.

In fact, even when she was being cold, there was a sense of carefully planned guidance behind her actions. To the tall fae, Bellatrix Black wasn't an insult or a scandal waiting to happen, she was a protege who needed the right tutelage to prosper. For this, she gave all of her patience as well as being thankful for the rejuvenation both her and her daughter felt. If there was one thing she was most surprised by, it was the fact that her daughter not only did well on the island but that she was flourishing. Already far taller than most two-and-a-half-year olds Delphini was quickly beginning the basics of Irish magicks.

"There you are," she heard the words behind her as the tall form of Erin stepped over the bench and neatly scooted her body over with faerie strength.

"I really do hate it when you do that," she protested momentarily.

"What, pick ye up, den don't be so feckin' small Black, ye bitch too much!" the Irish deity chuckled before laying six long walking sticks into the woman's laugh.

"Is this where you screech about shillelaghs or something stupid?" the Brit decided to deadpan.

"No ye prat," the goddess rolled her eyes, "each o' of these is made fram a different sacred wood," she stated.

"I'm supposed to use one of these idiotic Irish wanna-be wands?" she sneered.

"First, they aren't shillelaghs," she held up her massive black bronze banded cudgel in one hand, "THIS is a Shillelagh, an' I kilt more than my fair share of Sasnachai wit it!"

"So what are they?" Bella asked.

"We call 'em flescá, from an old word meaning wand," she replied and Bella picked up a blackthorn flescá in her hands and felt the warm thrumming of magic therein. For a second she wasn't sure what to do and spied Morgan's smile.

"So how do I cast with these magic sticks?" she pried.

"The center o' the focus is in the head of the flescá wit a magical core goin' down da lengt' o' it," Erin replied carefully while holding a white oak flescá. At the top of each walking stick was a thick piece of shine and rounded stone or metal. Each metal-headed flescá bore a small series of gems fitted into them.

"So what, I hold it below the head and just use the usual motions?" Bella put the blackthorn down and grabbed a rowan flescá with a sharpened bronze base ending in a point for its base.

"Yup," the massive faerie replied before snagging one of the flescá and swinging it over her hand and spat out 'bombarda' a strange snap of magic broke the air as she proceeded through the motions. However, just as the weapon spun between her hands Bella noticed the magic leaving not only the head of the flescá but the base of it as well.

"Flescá are built for rapid battle casting," Erin stated.

"What, can't you trust the local Aurors?" she asked.

"Pffft, Aurors ere usually owned by the Unionists, an' the Guards ere controlled by da Republicans," the faerie sighed.

"So Ireland is one big pot about to boil over," she surmised.

"Correct, an' wit da chaos caused by the maskers, yer facing possible assassinations," Erin nodded.

"Maskers?" Bella queried.

"Oh...most fae call yer lot dat, cuz we tought Deat'eater was too damn stupid o' a name."

"Ah, good to know," Bella gave a small feigned nod of her head.

The older witch graced her hand over the edge and top of each flescá. A yew flescá wound wrapped with a handle made of lambskin and fitted with a green stone and opal at the top. The thing fuzzed in her hand and she rejected it in seconds. Each flescá felt wrong or slipped from her hands until she felt it rest upon a length of rowan a little over a meter long, and its head carved into the shape of a raven. A black hag stone was fitted into the wood under the beak to create a natural finger hold for it and just as she touched it, an arc of energy struck her hand.

"Pick one," the faerie ordered.

The Rowan wood pulsed her hand as she tossed it up and caught it with her dominant hand. She noted the wood of the Ravenshead was different than that shaft and recognized her beloved Black Walnut.

"This one," she said feeling the weight of the flescá in her hands, how it warmed instantly.

"Rowan shaft, fitted wit an obsidian hag stone, and black walnut head." The Morrigan spoke the words elegantly, "A dual-core crafted fram me own hair, an' the heartstring of Wallachian Blackwing."

"You put your hair in this?" Bella asked curiously.

"Yes, I made it fer ye," Erin replied before picking up the rest of the flescaí, and gestured for Bellatrix to follow her. As she did, she pulled the black cardigan she was wearing tighter across her body. The cool of winter was already coming as fall began to die. Even the Morrigan was dressed in a black A-line dress covered in an even longer pair of robes. Black boots and leggings completed it as the woman stormed up the pathway back to her fine ancient seeming manor. Coming within sight of the Castle, Bella noted the dark brown and black-armored figures watching her from above. They were Fianna, wizards tied to the Morrigan's bloodline and served as her guards when she was in residence. One carried a large machine gun as the other a spear.

The doors of the great manor opened for the faerie lady on their own accord as a loud crack signaled the arrival of her majordomo, an aging House Elf by the name of Aisling.

"Does the Lady wish for tea?" the Elf asked in an aristocratic accent.

"No Aisling, I wan ye to alter the wards on the beach to allow apparition," the woman stated just as came within the entrance hall of the great manor. The small elf's sagging ears pricked in worry as her high voice spoke, "Miss if we break the wards the Sluagh."

"Will attack, aye, I know," she stated as she took off her robes before whispering a word in Gaelic and her clothes began to shift from a simple dress to the more common combat fatigues worn by the Fianna. Black tight body armor reinforced with shielding spells and a belted holster for her flescá.

"Wait, what is going to attack the Island?" Bella asked in concern for her daughter.

"Why Irish Dementors little jackdaw," Erin cackled.

"Dementors?!" she said with a gasp. "You surely aren't going to-"

"Pit ye against them, why yes!" the deity chuckled, "the wards will take a week to falter."

"I'm useless against those soul suckers, no death eater can cast a Patronus," Bellatrix protested.

"Wrong," she smiled, "A lie told to ye by that fool Albus, a yer bigger fool of a master." Morgan's eyes narrowed with annoyance.

"I have no happy memories to create such a spell," Bellatrix pointed out.

"Ye can, and will!" the Goddess replied leaving Bella to only think of one thing.

Was my wish really worth fighting the demons of my past?

 

---

 

Lunch, November 8th, 1998 - Oxford City Centre

Hermione Granger

"A Faeries very essence is their name, and thus a faerie will never reveal their true name without utter trust."

"Would you please put that book down 'Mione!" Ron whined as the two waited at a small cafe on Cowley Street. It was a muggle establishment, a fairly typical place with sandwiches and coffee ready for lunch. The two of them had arrived separately and met up to have lunch. For some reason, Ron was wearing a normal pullover, and a pair of jeans. What drew Hermione's attention was the fact his hair was getting long again, longer than before. The last time it got this long was last year when they were on the run, and for some reason it appeared that the redhead was actually taking care of it.

"Ron, is there something you want to tell me?" she said after putting down the book of folklore she was reading.

"Nope," he replied far too quickly.

"Alright, well you know that you can tell me -anything-, right?" she asked.

"Yup, sure, anything - got it!" he chirped before turning around watching down the street.
Hermione let out a huff of annoyance and checked her watching, noting it was just past one o'clock and that both Ginny and Harry were late. Only five days ago Ron and Harry were arguing over gender identity. I mean I get it, but I've learned. Ron's pretty much a country-bumpkin of a pureblood. The thought caused her to smile widely as Ron was still scanning the passing crowd. Not unlike her friend she was in a dark blue cardigan, dark jeans, and a nice soft t-shirt of her favorite band. Tilting her head to the side she sighed happily at finally getting her hair properly braided and enjoyed having the mass out of her face.

"What made you so happy?" she asked her friend.

"Harry and I had a heart to heart, and they've got something to tell you."

"They....when did you evolve so quickly?" she asked him.

"Since, Ginny tore me a new one after our last debate," he said with a sigh.

"Oh widdle Ronnikins is growing up!" she chuckled.

"Shut it!" he protested.

"What are you two arguing about?" they heard Ginny a few feet away. Like before she had her new signature side shave revealing the right bare side of her head, and a dark red Holyhead Harpies hoodie on. What caught Hermione's attention though was Harry standing a bit behind their girlfriend, hiding as if they needed to. What in the world?Wow, I really must be out of the loop.

"Yeah, I finally sat down and got a new pair recently," they said before leaning in and whispering something to Ginny.

"Okay, so you three are dragging me to get makeup right?" Ronald asked, changing the topic.

There was a general nod of agreement from the other three leaving the tallest of them frowning with a sigh. Hermione chuckled at Ron's continued antics. Does he act this way on purpose to make us all laugh or is he really that immature. I mean...I really do wonder.

Early Afternoon, November 8th, 1998 - Oxford City Centre

Hermione Granger
More than an hour passed since they arrived at Boots and made their way to the makeup section. An hour of watching Ron sit astounded as both she and Ginny showed him the power of muggle shapeshifting. Harry for the longest time sat on the edge as Hermione wove through two aisles over and over again. Finding a foundation that fit her skin tone wasn't the easiest truth be told. Sure, being on the run and the fighting related stress had caused her to pale a bit, but she was still far darker than her friends. Well, except maybe Harry, but there was always the annoyance of finding the right tone for her sepia skin. She sighed before moving to a section professing to cater to non-European women and found something close enough.

I guess I can always just transfigure it. She mused as she tossed the small round glass container in the air and caught it before fingering the black lid. Still, even the wizarding world has problems with this stuff. Hermione sighed before watching Harry staring at a mascara tube for the eleventh time while Ginny and Ron were arguing over their preferred Quidditch teams. Slowly, she drifted over to her best friend and noticed how much weight they'd lost. Harry used to be one of the fittest people she knew, maybe not muscular, but lithe and speedy. The perfect build for a seeker, and yet she could see a hollow pallor to her friends face, and how frail their frame was. Are they handling their stress at all? Why aren't they talking to me?

This was what led her to slowly stand beside her friend and just watch them fidget. It really is the same mascara. What is that? Looks like Maybelline. Harry's green eyes were locked on the strange bluish oval shaped tube with confusion.

"It makes your eyelashes longer," she told them.

"I know what it does, it's just weird that girls put this goo on their lashes to begin with," they stammered.

"You like how it looks though don't you," Hermione suggested.

"Yeah. Ginny says I have naturally long lashes and..." they trailed off before putting it back on the hook. A flash of their hands revealed the green painted nails with a silver slash across the index.

"Slytherin colors?" she asked curiously.

Harry whipped around and stared at her and a series of emotions flashed across their face.

"I haven't told you....a lot...so much has happened since....I killed....Riddle." Hermione could tell Harry was having an issue putting thoughts to words, and was biting their upper lip hard. She could tell Harry wanted to say -something-, but there was a disconnect between the actual word and the meaning they wished to express. Is this related to their death and coming back? She read more than a few medical texts on the damage caused by those who died or a lack of oxygen to the brain. What was going on though? Was it brain damage? Trauma? So many things could be affecting her best friend and she felt helpless with a lack of input on the matter.

"Harry it's-" she started.

"Raine.....my name is Raine." The words came out harder than she suspected her friend wanted to say, yet Hermione could tell the tone was because her friend finally found the words.

"It's pretty," she replied.

"Its...unisex, and it can mean Queen or Ruler," they said and mumbled, "it was a name in some old baby name lists I found from my mom at Grimmauld."

"I like it," Hermione replied and opened her arms for Raine to give her a simple nod. Suddenly, she embraced her best friend who let out a shaky half-sob of breath and crumpled into her. Another shaky breath and the hug lasted for a while as her hand extended to the small of her friends back and she let out a sigh. Fuck. Her mind slowed down as she just let herself experience the comfort of making her friend feel better.

"Uh you two okay?" she heard as she spied Ron watching them both over Ginny was smiling with her arms crossed.

"So they told you their new name eh?" Gin asked, "I personally love it!"

"I mean it does make sense, Raine was always a Drama Queen," Ron joked with an emphasis on -queen-.

"A mad snake-man wanting to kill me because of some stupid prophecy does not make me a Drama Queen," Raine growled.

"Hey, keep saying it mate, but admit it. You do love attention," Ron pushed further.

"When you are starved for attention because you get locked in a fucking cupboard for hours on end," Rained whipped around, "you can joke about it, RONALD BILLIUS WEASELY!"

"Sorry," the redhead squeaked.

"You were so close brother'o'mine, so close to not pissing them off," Ginny sighed before retrieving her partner from Hermione.

Raine required a few minutes to calm down before they would remotely glare at Ron without their hand forming into a fish. Hermione herself was wondering about her friend's mindset, but was busy as she decided to give everyone a bit of space. I'm happy we beat Noseless. The happiness of defeating Tom Marvolo Riddle though came with a heavy cost. She considered as she sat there in the aisle and wandered away from her friends, for just a moment. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she thought about it.

Tonks and Remus are in comas....Ted Tonks is dead. They'd beat the Dark Lord, much like the end of Lord of the Rings, but the cost to herself and she glanced at the scar hidden on her arm. Plus the cost to her friends was terribly high. Memories came back to her in small bits. A silvery knife cutting into her skin; the cackling of a dark haired elfin woman straddling her hips; and she inhaled sharply. What's wrong with me? Hermione Granger glanced around her and caught an associate watching her while facing a shelf across another aisle. But, she was quickly lost in her mind once again.

She really should speak to someone about how she felt about the aftermath of the Battle and the War. A loud bang occured behind her and almost instantly she reached for the wand hiding in her back pocket. Hermione's eyes darted around as she homed in on the possible 'threat' and realized it was just Ron bumping into and knocking over some soft drinks. Moments passed as her heart pounded hard in her chest, and cold sweat pooled on her forehead. Only six months after she watched Fred Weasley perish and she was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. Months now since the War ended, but still it stayed with her. Hermione thought she could ride it out, speak to a mind-healer, and get a handle on things.

But that wasn't how mental health worked, she learned, what learned instead was she would likely live with the shadows of Bellatrix Lestrange forever.

Breakfast, November 9th, 1998 - Inish Eile

Bellatrix Black
"Delphini Black you will listen to me, now!" she snapped as she was on her last nerve. For more than an hour Bellatrix sat outside her daughter's room trying to coax her out for breakfast. What was annoying her so much was the young toddler seemed entire entranced stupid little video tape Erin gave her. After a few moments she uttered the incantation "Alohomora" and the lock clicked. What she found was her dirty blonde daughter sitting upright in her bed. Her eyes were glued to the small television screen across from her bed, and she was busily clutching some stupid little doll in her hands.

"Mum, just one more episode pleeeease!" she whined. In the months since they'd come to Inish Eile, her daughter had turned three, and was easily far more independent than a child her age. What annoyed her however was that her daughter was now completely fixated with a strange pigtailed blonde wearing a some sort of skirt outfit on the screen.

"Delpi, it's time for breakfast, no more Sailor Luna for now!" she stated and watched as her daughter ignored her while singing along to the stupid theme song.

"Sailor Moon mum!" Delphi protested.

"Whatever," Bella sighed.

"No - no! She's like you mum, she fights bad people like Queen Beryl!' Delphi rambled.

On the screen the blonde was crying about something as a strange little black cat lectured her. Bella sucked in a sharp breath as she considered what her daughter said to her. Six months to think about her actions, and she stared at her hands for a moment. She betrayed the Dark Lord and fled the battle after his death. No final stands or attempts to bring him back or resurrect the his cause. No, her daughter survived and that was what mattered. Cissy and Meda were alive, and even -if- Meda married a sodding mudblood, she never wanted to actually kill her. Well, deep down at least.

"I don't cry like that," she murmured.

"No well, you are definitely Sailor Mars though!" the girl pointed out as a red wearing raven-haired woman appeared to mock the blonde, who cried once again. The black haired woman was mocking the girl by calling her 'meatball head', and as the episode continued showed a strong moral ground. Bella stared at the television as she once again thought about her time recovering. What is that bloody faerie planning for me?Wait...why DID that little prat have green eyes. We all knew about his mother, but she was a powerful ritualist. Bella stood in the doorway of the dining hall and watched as Delphini trot over to the faerie and promptly push the faerie queen into a prattling discussion. Erin appeared to be listening intently to the child like any experience mother.

If she's as old as she says she is, that woman is at least two thousand years my senior.

"MUM! MUM!" her daughter was jumping up and down to regain her attention.

"Wot?" she asked, finally gliding over to take a seat on her Patron's right hand.

"You're going to fight the Sluagh soon right!?" Delphi was far -more- excited about this than her mother.

"Yes, she is," Erin said solemnly. Bella gave an uneasy smile as her daughter began to pester her further about fighting the Sluagh. An entire swarm of soulless shapeshifting birds. The daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black was completely unsure what in Morgana's name she was going to do. Training under a war goddess was a strange and eye-opening experience Flescaí were heavier and much larger than a standard wand, meaning a new flow of movement for Bella to master. Where once she moved with the fast paced allegro of a violin, she spun and whirled with the strength of a cello.

If Bella hadn't been given basic armed combat training in her dueling classes she wouldn't have had an idea how to fight with a walking stick. The dual sided casting ability of the Flescá was her favorite feature of the foci. It meant that not only could she snap off a quick curse to one target she could now more easily apply counters and react. The movement of battle was far more continuous and fluid. Honestly, the other nice thing was that her heavy black oak Flescá was hard enough to snap or shatter most normal wands in a single hit.

Hey I'll club those fucking souless buggers to death. The thought was pretty appetizing to her. There was one little hitch though; her attempt to use a charm similar to a patronus required her to face the worst and best of her memories. Images of torture, and much more. Actions she partook in and where she left the Longbottoms nothing more than useless husks of their former selves. Her mind twitched a little, the begging and screams of the Longbottoms weren't going to ever leave her, but as she sat there and felt her hands fidget as she considered a few things. Thoughts long oppressed and ignored for so long that ripping the bandage off to free them up was proving harder than she thought.

Sodding little mudblood. Why did she just have....

"Bella," Erin addressed her as the food was served. An elf placed a dish in front of her consisting of a standard country breakfast, a few rashers of bacon, fried egg, and some puddings along with sausage. The strange orange tinged sausages were still a little too much for her which meant Bella ended up eating the bacon and egg first. Actually eating blood pudding to her even if it was a "British staple" was not something the pureblood heiress found appetizing.

"Hmmm?" she hummed in response.

"Ye know tat no matter 'ow hard ye to try ta scare da House Elves, they'll just ignore you." Erin was once again bringing up another random topic. She's done this so many times I've lost count.' But she was right, Bella attempted to frighten or intimidate the House Elves of the manor more than once. What she discovered was that the Faerie paid them in a mix of actual currency and magical energy. The elves got a boost to their health from the faerie family magic and then gold to provide themselves with a life outside of servitude. An utterly alien concept to a pureblood British wizard like herself.

"Why are you telling me this?" she inquired.

"Because ye are spendin' mar time feckin about," she said finishing her breakfast and sipping a bit of white wine, "when ye should be practicin."

"I am practicing, Erin." Her voice rose slightly in volume as her frustration increased.

"Good," the deity scoffed before turning to her food. Compared to the two mortals, the six foot tall ate three times the portioning. There was some sort of potion smelling of vegetables sitting placed beside Bella's right hand. Likely another concoction to further make up for years of malnutrition. Delphini was busily sitting in her high chair babbling on and on about Sailor Moon. Or more appropriately 'Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon.’' It was one of several cartoons and television shows the deity gifted to the little girl, the worst being some series called 'Xena: Warrior Princess.’

Bellatrix LeStrange had changed physically, though not much mentally. The daughter of the House Black still considered muggles to be only slightly better than beasts. Her short experiences seeing the pollution and the war of the 1960s and 1970s had jaded her. Growing up in the shadow of Grindlewald's anti-muggle campaign easily tainted her views from the start. The witch mused over all of the destruction she caused, and felt a strange feeling starting to curl in her gut. An unsettling kin to nausea, but it burned harder. As she tried to push it away in her head, she felt an assault of flashes of memory - sounds and images. A staccato rush of information. First, the keening and screaming of a woman. '’Please anyone but my son!'' - then Rod's voice cackling out the crucio with her own incantation in tow.

'Please mummy, I just wanted to play in the fountain!’' her own voice as a child while her mother slapped her face. The hard impact caused the witch in that moment to visibly flinch, a hand rising to touch the cheek.

"Mumuh, what's wrong?" Delphi inquired, snapping Bellatrix back into the here and now.

"Nothing sweetling," she felt the tension in her bones and her muscles increase. Pain from years of abuse, and agony as bile rose to her gorge. Erin's eyes bore into her own, and the deity's face quirked into a frown.

Afternoon, November 9th, 1998 - Hampstead

Hermione Granger
Even after more than a year, the House was still in good shape. A small solace to the girl who illegally obliviate her parents to save their lives. Walking over the still clean cut lawn, the girl noticed that a for sale sign still hung outside the decently sized two story home. Her trainers skidded against the curb of the cul-de-sac as she slowly made her way out from an alley where she apparated from. Dressed in her favorite pair of jeans the teen made her way through the gate and past the hedge. Leaves were already gathering at the base of the shrubbery as the tree growing on her property already claws its leafless branches to the sky. She sighed as she checked the note sent to her.

"Dearest Hermione,
Your mother spoke of you at length before our falling out years ago. I would like to meet with you about the state of the home and about your family's sudden disappearance. I have a few gifts for you and something urgent we can only speak of in person.
Sincerely,

Your Aunt Perdita'

A noted riddled with queer assumptions and outright confusing information. Her mother didn't have a sister, especially one named for the same Shakespearean play as herself. Worst even yet, was the fact that the owl who delivered the note itself was definitely a magical creature of some sort. It appeared like any standard barn owl, but appeared to red burning eyes when it appeared the night before. The human-like screech it let out after leaving was even more frightening.

So, as she walked toward the porch of her old abandoned home Hermione Granger fingered her wand hidden in a coat pocket of her red anorak jacket. The same jacket she received on her 17th birthday the year before from her parents. As she reached the first step she turned around and scanned the cul-de-sac itself. Not a single car was parked outside at first, and then her eyes spied a blue mini cooper with a red dragon painted across its hood. Squinting she could make out the style and blinked.

Why is there a mini with a Welsh dragon on it?

She kept the thoughts in her head for once and turned around. Hermione climbed the rest of the way, and checked the knob. Unlocked, so someone was waiting for her inside. Music reached her ears as she opened and closed the door behind her. She tried to place the music as she walked past the entrance hall into the small well furnished living room. A cd player sat on the coffee table plugged into the wall nearby. Beside it sat a fairly large portable speaker filling the entire room with a mix of reggae beat and the whirling of a saxophone. Glancing at the walls she admired images from her family's vacation to Paris, Marseille and later to Barcelona. Each of the pictures were arrayed along the pastel lavender walls.

Her eyes lingered on a particular picture, this one moving noting it as a wizard picture. One she sent her parents after Fleur and Bill's wedding. Her hair was pulled into two large twist buns, done by her mother that same day. Smiling, she leaned in and kissed Ron's cheek as Harry smiled, dressed in formal wizarding robes. The simple airy dress she was wearing that day moved around her as the wind kept kicking it up at random intervals.

"You were beautiful that day," the words caused her to turn around. Immediately her hand was on her wand and she drew it while her muscles relaxed into a defensive stance. Standing a few feet behind her was a woman straight out of a fairytale.

What caught her attention was the woman's eyes, they were the color of burning embers and seemed to reach into her own. Her visitor was a little over six feet tall and sat at one of the couches near the coffee table. A dark green jacket over a slightly dark orange tank top, fitted green trousers, and a pair of shined italian loafers. Her lean frame spoke of years of training; each movement was precise as a cat. Now having Hermione's attention the woman sat up, as Hermione tried to remember if she'd been sitting there seconds before.

No. She just appeared...is silent apparition possible?

The woman's hair like her eyes was red with highlights of orange in it. Pulled back into thick cornrows it sat in a high pony and shook with each moment. Her skin was a warm russet tone. A triskelion tattoo was visible on her upper shoulder as well as a silver necklace and chain around her neck.

"Who are you?" Hermione implored.

"Oh...I'm Perdita." The woman said, shining too white teeth at Hermione making the teen feel even more unsttled. She's not human, her face is too perfect. Hermione side-stepped so her back her right side was closer to the door.

"I'm assuming you were whoever sent me the letter."

"Yes, indeed I did," the woman replied, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

"Why did you call me here?" Hermione queried.

"Oh yes," she said and rose slowly to her full height and let out a loud laugh. "I need to finish tea first before we continue. Do you like Mint?"

Hermione visibly flinched as the tall figure loomed over her causing the woman to frown. Flashes of another woman in darker clothing pinning her to the ground and holding a knife caused her to shake. The scar on her left arm started to burn hard causing her to wince. She took another slow step back toward the doorway before she felt the air around her still.

"Can you sit down please...." she requested as the tall woman acquiesced. Hermione stared at the door before the entrance hall briefly before adding, "Why should I stay?"

"Because I can help you get your parents back," she replied. This caused Hermione's hackles to rise as she stepped closer and hovered behind the cout to the right of the one where the woman sat.

"You're lying" she retorted, "Or there's a high price to it."

"Of course there is, Hermione Granger," she smiled and flicked her wrist and a teapot came sailing in from the kitchen. A series of saucers and cups floated in behind it.

"Do you remember in Wales, when sharing Salazar's Locket?" she asked plainly. The floating teapot served tea as the two cups landed gently on their respective saucers.

"No, not really, all I remember was running over a hill along a road," her eyes blanked as she realized, "that was Offa's Dike."

"Correct, and as you dashed into the woods you made a wish," the fae replied. Her lips cresting the cup as she drank the still steaming tea without nary a wince of pain.

"A wish, this is all about a wish?" Hermione gripped the top of the couch in her hands and leaned forward defiantly.

"Yes, you made a wish on my land, and thus the wish was mine to grant." The red haired woman finished her tea and let the teapot drift over and poor her another cuppa.

"You're here over one errant wish to see my family again?" Hermione asked.

"No Hermione, I'm here because you've been making wishes since you were a little girl at Hogwarts." Hermione felt bits and details starting to fall into place. A wish to pass her first exam as a child and suddenly having a greater focus for studying. Another for Harry's health during the tournament, and without fail his broom arrived far faster than it should. This makes no sense. She blinked as she stared at the woman before climbing over the couch and taking a seat. Hermione stilled her mind for a moment as she inhaled slowly, picked up her cooled tea and took a sip.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

 

---

 

Chapter 1 - Bright Gift

What was in a name? She sighed and stared at herself. Names were important, she knew that as much. It was one reason why her Grandfather's name meant the Demon's Head. Through the magic of the green glowing pits, Ra's al-Ghul had lived lifetimes. Sure, the green glowing liquid twisted his mortal mind over the years of existence. It didn't help that he was the leader of the League of Assassins and raised his daughter as a bloody-minded psychopath. So when she learned her name, Damian, and what it meant "to take" or to "tame". She was sure her purpose in life was to sit on the Throne and become the next Head of the Ghoul.

That all changed years ago when she was barely twelve years old. She, Damian Wayne, was thrust away from Nanda Parbat. And the turmoil which resulted was traumatic, to say the least. All in one, she dealt with her mother going beyond rogue and trying to kill her. Early dealings with the Court of Owls, and sadly, a lot of wonderful fucking bullshit. Standing in front of the mirror she sighed as she stared at the dress Koriand'r gave her. The dark-skinned Tamaranian had a pretty "exhibitionist" taste. She was twenty-one, and after years of hiding it, she was going to come out.

Scanning the entire bedroom, she twisted around and tossed off the black turtleneck she was wearing. Yup, the slim muscled build of a scion of the Wayne family smiled back at her. Narrow hips, cut abs, and of course, a set of broad powerful shoulders. Damian stared at her reflection and began to note the pros and cons.

"My voice is...reedy at best," the way she was able to pitch her voice was from years of quiet study.

I'll never be built like Kori or Selena. A pair of crossed arms over her bare chest revealed the young woman's feelings. Being a queer twenty-something in Gotham wasn't a big deal. Her brothers had accepted her when she told them the day before, and her father had even hugged her a week ago. Bruce Wayne had fought so many versions of himself and seen how the psyche warring with itself could cause outright slaughter. No way in the depths of Hell or by the name of the Trigon would he not accept his daughter.

Good, she'd come out and felt a sense of freedom. But, years of discipline and indoctrination under the League had locked a lot of it away. Even talking to Orphan did little to assuage her unease. They both knew what it was like to let their feelings loose and to fight in the shade of blood-thirsty birth givers. Damian was groomed to be the Heir, and Lady Shiva brutalized her daughter into a living weapon. So now, she was going to go out on a date with another literal daughter and heir of the massacre.

Nevermore: Jinx is getting bouncy...please tell me you are almost ready.

Damian read the text after hearing the silent beep of her phone. A slow chuckle came from the bottom of her throat.

Desdemona: You were the one who wanted to bring her.

The little writing emblem squiggles for a bit before the reply came.

Nevermore: She bribed me with sour candies, and goreporn. The body is weak.

Desdemona: When did the Unkindness become addicted to candy and bad horror?

Nevermore: You are to blame mortals, it is your fault for making me watch all the Tremors movies.

Desdemona: Never drinking Tequila again.

Nevermore: To quote Jinx, "Stop being a little bitch and get down here!"

I still don't know why I'm doing this. Damian bit her right knuckle and stared at the dress again. A stupid slinky piece of shit, made of lycra. WHY did she have an obsession with Lycra?! Fuck this. The ravenhead turned and dove toward her massive closet. One of the perks of being a Wayne was the ability to order a lot of clothing without questions asked. Years of self-repression were carved away by sharpened knives of her own need.

A pair of black jeans, black as night, made from that stupid "uber black" material. They were painted on, and as she did a quick clean-up job on her nails she considered going open-toe before deciding against it. I don't want to shave my legs or rush a pedicure. Instead she rooted out a pair of leather calf-high boots. Pulling them on she remembered buying them with Raven at an upper-class punk shop in Jump City. The place was run by an ex-Dominatrix who made most of it all by hand. Staring at the boots as she finished the buckles she enjoyed the platforms built into them.

Next, she had to figure a top, they were going to some sort of Goth or Industrial Queer Bar. A place where she would be expected to not stick out like a Wayne at a Charity. Frowning, the transgirl sighed before snagging a new solid black bralette. It was a simple high-end sports bra style, with a black silver demon skull painted across the front. Jinx had bought it off some video game website saying it was a "Doom Skull" or something.

Now the finale out came the long sheer charcoal turtleneck. It would be all on display and even if she didn't have the hips or the tits. She had her muscles and that ass. Another throaty chuckle and the daughter of Bruce Wayne finished it all with a simple bit of winged eyeliner and black mascara. Hell, even without her mother's legendary cleavage, Damian was the spitting image of a femme fatale.

She sat down in front of her vanity and did it once over. Her hair was in a refined cut, long front fringe with a stylistic skull shaved into her undercut. If it rains it pours. I'm overdoing the skulls. I might as well get a bat undercut next time. Grabbing her phone she slipped on a ring over her finger fitted with a tracking device just in case. Then, she added a knife to the back of her right boot.

If looks could kill. Grabbing her clutch, she sighed before walking out of the hall into the primary study. Father was there, his long, muscled, and scarred body laid out on the couch. Selina, her stepmother, and her favorite sparring partner was busily giving him a massage. The olive-skinned woman glanced over her shoulder and poked her husband.

"Heading out?" he asked without really moving, and she could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. A genuine one at that.

"Going to a place called Batcave," she sighed, "I know it's damn ironic.

"Kate still joining you?" Selina asked as Bruce sat up and slowly began work through a few stretches.

“No, she’s on a double date with Alex Danvers,” Damian sighed.

“What is my cousin up to these days with Alex Danvers” Bruce queried.

“Astra Zor-El,” Damian scoffed, “I’m being ditched for Kryptonian ass.”

Bruce frowned at his daughter's vulgar reply even if it was in the articulate accent of the League. He shook his head before saying, "If it goes south, Orphan's on standby and so is Halo."

Damian sighed, "I figured you would be the overprotective type."

"He's -Batman-, he doesn't kill people, but it doesn't mean he'll break spines to protect his widdle princess." Selina giggled at her own joke before checking her phone and laughing louder. "Harley and Ivy say, have fun, wear protection, and don't forget to order a Diana Prince at the bar."

"A what?" she asked before leaving.

"It's some fucking horrendous concoction made using Absinthe and Ouzo, do not drink it. I did once, and I ended up dancing in Gotham and waking up in a Yacht off the coast of Dalmatia."

"Hey, that was my yacht," Bruce chuckled as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Still," she replied before waving to Damian who was on her way out. The young queer rolled her eyes a third time before heading downstairs to catch a zetatube to Jump City. The walk down to the actual lab itself was not long, and even a little fun if she considered how her father kept remodeling the ways to the Batcave. The small elevator which took her down this time even had some stupid little bit of musak to pass the three-second wait. She stepped out, her boots clomping with each step, into the cool air of the cave itself.

A massive redux of her Father's mainframe sat to her right as did the various hermetically sealed cases holding the historical uniforms of the Batfamily. Passing one featuring Robin, and an early take on Nightwing made her smile. Next was Oracle's old Batgirl costume along with one featuring a less Rambo style for Redhood. Jason, did buy me that Knife, and I'm pretty sure he did it for a reason. The folding blade hidden in her boot wasn't just typical fancy Damascus steel oh no. It was a molecular sharpened blade stained with fucking Trans Pride Colors.

Yup, one of her big brothers bought her a queer as fuck knife. She gave a small shake of her head before heading toward the transporter.

"Robin, recognize," the computer said as a flash of white light struck her eyes and she felt a sudden pulling of her body. A second later she was running into Gar as she found herself in Titan's tower. Jump was home to both the Titans, the Team, and the Outsiders. A touching point for a lot of the more complicated work of the League. Gar was dressed in his usual red tank with white outlining, and a pair of pajama pants His sleepy eyes met her own as he gave her a goofy grin.

"Hey bae," he laughed and gave her a once over, "Looking Crash."

"Thanks." She deadpanned.

"Pick a name yet?" he asked, walking over to the terminal near the boom tube entry-point.

"No. Still thinking one over. It's not easy, especially since I don't want to keep using Robin either." She found her voice was a bit reminiscent of Raven's own throaty rasp.

"Welp, whatever you choose will be pretty crash no matter what," he replied with a smile.

I see why Terra likes him. A light smirk graced her lips before she made her way toward the lift to meet Raven and Jinx in the lobby. Damian waltzed out of the lift and froze. Raven was dressed in a fitted suit sans bra, her silken trousers hugged her long athletic legs, and a pair of stiletto heels capped her feet. A silver chain finished the look and glistened against the soft pale sliver of greyed skin visible reaching from the middle of her navel up to her collar bone.

Jinx was bald at the moment, her body fitted in a pale purple body suit that fit her like a glove. Her legs were encased in sheer black leggings. She was wearing a pair of black ballerina flats. The Indian meta gave a small smile as she sauntered over and slipped her arms around Damian's neck.

"Glad to see you," she purred and pulled Damian into a tight embrace, and the trans femme let out a gasp.

"Damian," Raven said from where she stood, "Are you ready?"

The Wayne Heiress let her nerves chill a bit as all the steel from the League of Assassins came to her command.

"I can do this." Her tone was all the determination of Talia al-Ghul herself.

"Good, because Raven wants to use her shadow-self to transport us there," Jinx giggled.

"Isn't that a little overt?" she asked, turning to face the half-demon.

"Well, it's that or we show up in a limo," Raven replied.

"Do you know any company we can trust?" Damian asked as she removed her phone and immediately began bringing up some bookmarks from an earlier search.

"I was thinking Hive," Jinx stated.

"You always -think Hive-." Raven stated.

"They did break away from the Light and disavow the madness of Queen Bee." Damian pointed out. "Even grandfather approves of them."

"Fine." Raven relented and waited as Jinx texted her contact. There was a minute-long wait before the confirmation came.

"Okay, so they can take us home tonight, we'll have to get there ourselves," Jinx stated before letting out a sigh of frustration.

"Why?" Damian questioned.

"Same old song," Jinx scoffed, "Jackass broke into a lab Hive was funding in Markovia doing interdimensional viewing."

"I take it the League is already investigating?" Damian asked as Raven drew closer to the two of them.

"Yeah, the chatter between various main Hive Agents and their connections with King Brion are already blowing up on the dark web," Jinx replied.

"Let's go dancing," Raven said just as the darkness of her shadow self engulfed the two of them. Damian felt the world stretch around her in a fashion that could only be described as being shunted down a long pipe and pulled by some great hand. Faster than the blink of an eye they were sitting before the entrance of an alleyway. A pair of tall thickly muscled men stood on either side of a pair of steps leading into a basement entrance. Above the entrance itself with a bat-shaped golden neon sign red "The Batcave."

"Father would find this entire thing so shallow," Damian huffed as they drew closer to the entrance. The two bouncers glanced at them and the shorter of the two asked for IDs. Each of the women produced the necessary cards and were waved inside.

"Glad to have you here Raven," one of them said as they passed.

"What about me?" Jinx asked.

"Are you going to start shit again?" the taller bouncer asked.

"Hey, if you don't let terfs in again then I won't!" The woman chirped.

"We did expel that particular patron, she's no longer welcome."

The trio moved past the entrance and made their way down the stairs. What once appeared to be a simple basement entrance turned into a twenty-foot staircase opening into a large thirty-yard-wide dance hall. At right and left sat two active bars with seating areas carved into the wall itself. Tables for standing to drink as well as patrolling security checking drinks. Even at a gay bar, there was so much risk of someone drugging drinks. They didn't ban cisgender straight folx from coming so any absent drinks were immediately trashed.

Across the massive open dance floor, a series of lights from above swam at different intervals, and a raised platform at the far end showcased a DJ dais. Behind the dais sat a massive OLED screen showing scenes from Bram Stoker's Dracula. She could see Gary Oldman in his ridiculous double-bun hairdo on screen as a heavy double bass section ripped into the air. Her ribs reverberated with the sound of the music. Raven floated across the ground not gaining a single reaction from anyone as two metawomen, one with long green bioluminescent quills watched her, and another with arcs of electricity wriggling up her arms.

"Am I the only regular human here?" Damian asked simply as they made their way to the bar on the right.

"That's an overstatement," Jinx chortled.

"Damian, you are definitely not a normal human," Raven nodded, "You're blood crackles with your father's demonic heritage."

"Can you be more specific?" she asked as they reached the bar.

"Well," Raven ordered a rum and coke as Jinx ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. "Your family has been using the Pits for how long now?"

"A while, more than a few centuries," she sighed, "I always assumed grandfather was a meta or a homo magus."

"Likely," Raven nodded slowly, "Whatever your lineage is, you aren't normal, and that's fine."

"Hotness means that you fit in with us perfectly," Jinx seemed intent on being flirtatious tonight. Damian still wasn't used to people finding her attractive or much else. Well, attractive in the sense of her queer self, and how she wanted to showcase herself. It was all quite complicated. There was what she saw in her mind's eye and what the world was presented. Truth was, there were a lot of options before her, especially in a world with magic and mutagens. It all came down to how she would forge her future.

Now she had a drink to order. The bartender, a rather tall broad-shouldered enby with short-cropped vibrant pink hair, watched her with catlike eyes. Fanged teeth shined from their smile.

"Okay cutie, what you having," the meta asked.

"A Diana Prince."

Everyone stared at her, and the bartender tapped their jaw. "Wow kiddo, I knew you rich kids had a sense of danger but damn."

"Rich?" she squeaked.

"If anyone is here with Jinx you make money, that girl drops tips like no other." The bartender was already moving and lining a series of bottles before Damian could even react. Before she even saw a dissolving cube of sugar. Whatever she ordered, was a sickly green color, and likely was going to make her sick. The others were already halfway through their drinks as the next song picked up in the background. She wanted to do a bit of dancing before the night started to die.

"There is one rule tonight, no matter what we -do not split up," Raven stated with finality, Jinx eyed both of them and offered a nod. Damian checked her phone and saw a smile emoji text to her from Selena and Harley.

"Jinx...why is Quinn texting me?" she queried.

"Oh, your aunties want you safe," the hexer replied.

"...How is it that I have villains as family?" She deadpanned.

"You are the one who ended up with a former member of the LIght for a grandfather, and your mom's pretty hung up on murdering her way in," Raven said it all matter of factly.

"It’s why you and Raven fit so well," Jinx laughed and the bartender pushed her drink toward her. She sipped it and almost spat the thing out. It was...licorice. All she could taste was black-fucking-licorice. By the Pits of Lazarus, it was so damn bad. Why was this named after Wonder Woman of all people?!

"Gods dammit," she coughed as she finished it in two gulps and pushed it away.

"Bad life choices!" Jinx cheered as she reached over and led both of the women out onto the dance floor. Damian's feet settled on the floor and she closed her eyes. Dancing wasn't something she did very often. But she was a trained assassin, and honestly, a pretty good swordswoman. So as a ringing bell and whispering voice rolled over her body she smiled. Identifying the bouncing opening beat was easy, and then sliding her feet into a simple shuffle was even easier.

She rolled her shoulders, and then her body. As she did so Jinx imitated her and as they started to they synced their movements and swiveled their hips. Slowly swinging their hands out and then back outward. The growing relationship with Jinx was still new to Damian, but even as they moved together it felt real on a level that wasn't possible for her before. When she still warred with who she was, she wasn't able to understand it until she started cutting away all of those repressed feelings.

Raven floated behind her before she felt arms encircling her shoulders from behind and she was being lifted a few inches above the ground. The two twirled there as Raven pressed her lips against Damian's causing the young woman to swoon. Wanting to be desired, and chosen for who she was, and not what she was shown to be was - uplifting on so many levels. She shivered as memories of the night dealing with the Court of Owls and being used by Talon. Raven drew a hand along her jaw and calmed Damian with a small kiss.

"Thanks for coming with us?" Jinx was beside them in an instant as she used her hands to press them apart and insert herself between them. As the Indian girl shimmied her hips and started grinding her behind against Damian's front. Raven was on the opposite watching the two of them as she bit at her lip. Damian closed her eyes, letting her mind wander and being taken by the sensation. She wasn't the most sexual of beings. But, the close contact did bring a lot more sense of wholeness and love than she'd felt in a long time.

Sure, there was that carnal desire, and want mixed in, a hell of a lot of it honestly. I need to sit down and have a long talk with Aunt Kate. Damian still wasn't sure if she was a lesbian, a bisexual, or perhaps something a bit more complicated. Their dance continued for a few more minutes as Damian attempted a simple twerk and ended up colliding with a swaying Jinx. Both girls laughed to themselves as Raven guided them to one of the booths for a bit of a snack before ordering another drink.

The booths were built into the walls of the underground bar, each about six feet tall, and enough benches to sit seven people. The thick metal table on top appeared easily cleanable, and she noticed a line of circuitry running from the base. On the very top embedded into the table itself were a series of circles each ready to provide a warm or chill point for a drink. Beside each sat a small control as well. As the trio found their seat Damian took an outer seat as Raven sat beside her with Jinx across.

At the center of the table, a small screen popped up and displayed a simple list of appetizers to order. Jinx immediately swiveled the screen over and began to select a series of vegetarian options. Raven was busily scrawling something over the edge of the table itself. After mouthing the words, 'Azarath metrion zinthos.' Damian felt her ears pop.

"Privacy ward," Jinx chuckled as she finished.

"I hope you all like curry and hummus," Raven cautioned.

"I'm Arabic and some Han Chinese," Damian chuckled, "My grandfather named me Hafid."

"What do you want to call yourself?" Daven asked.

"Blake." She said quietly, "Blake Hadiyya Wayne."

The words came so easily and so did the name, Jinx blinked and smiled as Raven gave a nod. "Shining Gift."

"Do you think Father would approve?" Damian-no-Blake asked.

"I think your father would definitely approve, he's acknowledged you as his kid hasn't he?" Jinx asked quietly.

"Yes, publically he has, after Grandfather's resurrection he used an alias under Leland McCauley. An Arabic-Scottish philanthropist." Blanke muttered. "Mother is still going by Talia McCauley when she travels, and, apparently, she and Father have an agreement."

"What is that?" Raven asked, slightly curious.

"She's out of my life, I get to not be a bastard with the story being, I was an accident. Selena adopted me years ago anyway she's my real mom." That statement felt so right to say. Even if as a kid she had called the former thief a "harlot" she still considered her more of a mother than Talia al-Ghul.

"Talia also knows I'll shred her soul if she comes near Blake at all," Raven started with a quiet fury. Jinx nodded and smiled as their platter arrived. Large amounts of curry, hummus, and what appeared to be fried flatbread along with a large assortment of cheeses.

"This place has a weird appetizer selection," Blake noted.

"I may have bribed them to carry some of Raven and your favorite foods for tonight," Jinx giggled.

"Why?" Blake asked.

"Well, unlike Nevermore here, you, I have to impress," Jinx twirled a lock of Raven's dark indigo hair around a finger before kissing her cheek. "You two have known each other longer, and while she and I have dated. This Polyamorous thing is still new to me."

"Me as well," Blake replied before both looked at Raven.

"It was quite natural on Azarath, they just didn't like extremes in hedonism," she replied matter-of-factly.

Their conversation halted for the moment, then the trio dug into their food. Jinx started to eat the lion's share as Blake sampled a few bits of cheese on a plate set aside just for her. Raven was simply using her magic to float various bits of hummus and roti directly into her mouth before they all suddenly ceased eating. Without warning an invisible miasma of disquiet pervaded the club as the air near them started to crackle with energy. Just as Raven was about to react when a large circle appeared, filled with alien runes, and shot her with an arc of energy.

The Titan screamed in pain as she fell on top of the table, knocked out. Blake immediately rose in her seat as the circle disappeared and a tear, in reality, began to slowly unzip itself before them.

It reminded her of the zetatubes the League used to use for teleportation, a vast flash of light, except in this case it burned a scar in the atmosphere before her ears. Jinx leaped atop the table and stopped as a woman clothed in black composite armor stalked from the opening. Her ears were cold, uncaring, and focused. In her hands was a long sharpened sword covered in red searing markings pulsating with arcane energy.

"Lady Shiva," Blake scoffed at the woman as she stood from her seat and glared at the woman. "Are you here to enact some foolish vengeance on my lineage once again?"

"No actually," the woman replied, her face while beautiful, held only the cool detached expression of a hardened killer. As she waited, another woman exited the portal halfway, this one appearing to be the source of the reddened magic. Her face was covered in a series of markings easily identifiable as ancient Sumerian and proto-Atlantean. An emblem of the Lords of Chaos was branded upon her brow, and her hair was arranged into a series of spiral horns atop her head.

Unlike Lady Shiva, Mother Blood fit the part of a cult leader. A simple silken crimson robe hung around her body and she wore a red a-line dress beneath it.

"Fuck sakes, the Light and the Shadows are using the magic of the Church now?" Jinx growled. "You'll pay for what you did to Raven, Blood."

"Unlike my predecessors, I see no point in provoking the Unkindness," Mother Blood replied, seeming to want the act before she finished. "I am a mercenary in this job."

Lady Shiva glared at Jinx and nodded to Mother Blood as she placed a simple black package on the ground. "Either you come with us Damian, or we kill everyone here."

"So fucking typical," Jinx sighed as she was spinning bright hex magic in her hands, "Can you take them both so I can wake Raven?"

Blake tried to analyze the scene and showed not a single bit of worry on her face. Jinx's hesitation was all real though. The former Hiver was not likely to attack foolishly and the threat of an explosive was a classic cliche deterrent. What worried her though was the spell used to knockout Raven. If Mother Blood could incapacitate the daughter of Trigon, one of the most powerful heavy hitters of the modern Justice League, then what else could she do?

"What do you want with me?" Blake asked as she took a step forward.

"You, we want nothing, we simply want your body," Shiva replied as she cocked her head and glanced at the bomb. "Tick-tock Damian, we have more outside ready to kill all your little queer friends."

The daughter of Batman exhaled, she knew the answer, there was no choice. A single step and just as she signaled her surrender Lady Shiva was in motion. The woman drew a dart from her armor and tossed it directly at Blake. Before the young woman could react the bladed end struck her and the entire contents of the weapon were emptied into her veins.

"As I said we need your body, not your mind, not your useless mouth," Lady Shiva stated. "Move and you all die, understand me?"

"Copacetic," Jinx muttered as the two women strolled up to the now downed body of Blake. As they hefted her over Shiva's shoulder; Blake's eyes were already growing heavier. Her body lacked any sense of feeling as she felt her senses except for feeling and hearing shutting down. What was this? Why make it so she was still partially cognizant? As they turned to leave she heard Lady Shiva say, "Welcome to the Light, Project Tartarus."

 

---

 

 

Chapter 1 - Auld Acquaintances

October 12th, 2007, - Ferndale, Washington

"There's a fag, and another fag," the words were stupid, annoying, and altogether useless. Why was I even caring about them? Their definition was wrong, but even as I walked by the pipsqueak thin boy in a hoodie, I felt ashamed. Why was this kid jeering at me? I never did anything to him! My green eyes closed as I breathed in and continued on my way to science that day. It didn't get any better but at least homophobe rando was out of my way.

Never would I guess that all of this was just the tip of the iceberg. Ferndale is a small town situated smack dab north of Bellingham Washington. It calls itself a city, but it's just a step above a four-horse town. Don't look at me, I'm shit at these sorts of descriptions. I digress, this wasn't where I lived, it was just where the school district bussed me every day since I graduated elementary. Year four of this journey saw me as a Sophomore just a tad taller than the rest, and a bit wiser. Graduating from not only grades I upped my fashion and added steel-toed boots to my look. Wait, wait, let me jump back.

My name SHOULD be Gráinne, that is who I am in my heart. But I didn't get a choice in that. Instead, I was born Padraig, and even from there I hate that name. And so I do what any kid my age does, I embrace black, I avoid eyeliner and I become a wannabe goth. What I wanted to tell everyone was that instead of boots I wanted clomper heels, and instead of a fucking hat, I wanted a veil. Yeah, I was already some weird long haired queer to half those kids. Most were so in love with football I wondered if they roleplayed it in the bedroom. All my snark aside, this is who I am. There's nothing that can be changed unless I somehow was a mutant, but with how ordinary my family was that wasn't likely to happen. I guess it's weird that here I am, this rando kid in the middle of nowhere wishing she'd mutate on the spot. I mean, one of my classmates last year changed, and she became an entirely new person.

Though to be honest, all I have to go on is Fox News complaining about the local mutant problems in Seattle, and whatever the heroes in Bellingham are up to. Let's face it, I live in the frontier as far  most of the country was concerned. But, that's a thought that needs to be tabled for now.

Today was the twelfth of October, and I was glad my week was almost over. Already my English teacher was chomping at the bit to drop a reading assignment on me. History was readying for a dip into the American Revolution, and it was only the second month of class. Even my friends from the year before weren’t in my classes, and above all, I had Orchestra that morning which added more weight for me to carry.

The day started with a ring of the bell a bit after eight and the music geeks of my class file in. One hand totes a large black reinforced case with my violin and my seat awaits. Orchestra was where the musically cultured, repressed, and dejected went. If you were good you were popular. The first chairs were always the best of the best and while we didn't compete for the seating as the band did, there was a hierarchy to our class. My hand rested against the string as I used a cloth to wipe away the dried rosin. Two boys in the back were giggling about something again, and all I could do was smile at the antics of our bass players. Mr. Olmstadt rose from his seat at the conductor's position and raised his hands. The man was tall, six feet at least, and had a shock of curled blonde hair at his head. He was dressed in a blue button-up shirt, jeans, and his shoes were even shined.  By a single movement, he started it all and practice began.

This was how it was three times a week ending on Fridays. I was in Orchestra and next was English. Most of the time I was able to avoid problems, and the other kids left me alone. During lunch, I would find a table and sit back with my friends, though John was avoiding me for some reason. During my walks carrying my backpack from one class to another, I usually ran into different people I'd like to avoid. Brad Finkbonner was one of them. He was your typical jock and popular kid. His hair was bleached at the top and he wore a silver chain around his neck. Barely a freckle on his face, and he showed the gangly muscles of a teenager who at least put some effort in the Weight Training P.E.

Usually, when he wanted to he would just get behind me and shove me. "MOVE YOUR LARD ASS" I would hear and suddenly I would impact face-first into a wall. Or I'd be shoved into another upperclassman in front of me. All of this would then be hailed by the laughter of the jerk as he walked away. Being the outcast, even my social awkwardness placed me at odds with the other cliques. The goth artist kids disliked me because I actually -read- Interview with a Vampire and the other books and developed an opinion. The magic kids who played before class during the open period hated that I bombarded them with questions. Plus, the teachers weren't sure what to make of me because I had my head in the clouds. My own respite honestly was reading, and even then I didn't use the school library for the simple fact it wasn't very connected.

No, you see when I finished school and rode the bus back home I would endure the long journey via some novel in my hands. First, it was the Animorphs and after that, it was Lord of the Rings. By the time I was twelve, you would catch me walking from my house to the library a half a mile away daily. 

You see, I didn't live in Ferndale, no I grew up on an Island in the same county, so by the very fate of districts I had to ride a bus for an hour a day to go to school. The rest of the length was in catching a ferry home for five minutes and walking the half-mile down the road to where I live. Most of the kids in the city will have a different experience, but I had a small hike every day so it was no big deal to walk to a library to get the latest novel of the Wheel of Time. 

It's probably not weird at all really, but that is how I functioned. I usually read a book on the ferry and on the bus. When I was home I would load up some story on my computer written about someone becoming a girl. There I would learn more about who and what I was. You see, I don't fit who I am. Named Padraig O'Callaghan as a kid, I never seemed to like how my body fit. Mom would say "you just haven't grown into it" and would do her best to manage my mood swings. But, at the end of the day when I read those stories about magic, and technology 'fixing' someone I'd beg the universe for it to happen to me. Between these stories, and my constant reading I was able to manage my depression for short periods of time.

You see I did have a younger sibling, and we were good at pushing each other's buttons. So maybe it was why in retrospect I found it so easily to play into those dumb little squabbles we had. She'd say one thing, and I'd blame her for another. My father being the parent who took care of us on certain days would then take the next hour to lecture us on being nice. That's my life, it's not bad, but each day, I hold a burden that outside fantasy I can barely describe.

The afternoon of Friday I ran through the general route. First, I went to Orchestra and tried to just get a bit better. Next, I found myself in English, and after that it was math. All the while I would shuttle between classes and trudge across the large high school campus. My sneaker's kicking aside dead leaves and my breath misting out as it got colder each day. I juggled through Spanish, and finally, after so very long, all I had was P.E. Physical Education, the one class I hated and loved at the same time.

I liked games and even ones where I had to be physical. The competition wasn't fun to me, but I enjoyed getting the one up on people especially if they thought they could beat me down. Our P.E. building was the typical school basketball court. The outside was brick and mortar rising up well over thirty feet and accessible through two blue double doors. You pushed them in and walked to the right to get to the P.E lockers. If you were lucky, no one stole or messed with your clothing, and there you changed. If I could, I would change in the toilet stalls. Other times I stared at my dull painted blue locker before changing into shorts and a t-shirt. All this experience did was reminded me of my how wrong body was, the lack of breasts, and the only thing right being my long hair.

I opened my locker, pulled out my clothes for the period and exchanged my pants for black shorts. My shirt pulled off as some kid laughed, "look he's got tits like a girl" and I blushed. I wasn't fat, and yet, I kind of was. Ignoring him I yanked on the over-large baggy shirt and pulled on my shoes. Last period of the day, all I had to do was make it through. A quick dash took me out through the white brick-walled doorway back into the gym. Two basketball courts met my gaze, the shined squeaky wood floor, and the same weird white brick walls. The girls lined up along one line and the boys took another. Our teacher, a guy in too tight of shorts, named Mr. Saul, began our workout routine of the day. Jumping jacks, gods, I hated them.

One kid puffed and puffed beside me as I began the awkward limb swing jump. Mister Saul started some upbeat music and after the jacks, we began our lap for the day. Three times around the gym, I generally alternating between a slow jog and a quick sprint to show off. I buzzed past a girl who shook her head and rolled her eyes. Another day, another annoying girl, and be jealous of her being her true self.

The cardio lasted for fifteen minutes. Mr. Saul broke the routine by calling for us to gather up before pointing to a line of balls he'd lain while we ran laps. My green eyes remained on those balls as the coach called out, "Bombardment". Instantly, he divided us by counting off between one and two. Each team split to respective sides of the gym and we readied for war. I lucked out today, Brad was funnily on my side, but one of his friends, Lanny, wasn't. Lanny was the short kid who others made fun of and used humor to deflect it. It was he who said I had boobs, and it was him with his beady little grey eyes that met mine. The whistle sound and I was off. Hands swing from side to side and I slid on my knees to grab a ball.

Damn, I snagged the ball and use it to out a leggy tan girl in front of me. I jumped over another before jogging back a few feet. I rarely was this lucky, but thanks to all that walking I wasn't completely out of shape.

"Hey, Patrick Star!" Lanny screamed over the others. Even his voice was pinched and high pitched.

"What do you want Lollipop Guild?" I tossed back, well that's what I thought I said. I really said, 

"WHAT!?"

Just as I took the time to look at him I watched him in slow motion. His right hand went back as he wound up the swing and snapped forward. The head size dodge ball flew out of his grasp and right at me. Now, this is where in the story I tell you I dodged it. No, you see the ball was thrown a foot above where I stood. But somehow, and I swear to the gods this very day the little creep was a psychic, it leveled down and slammed right into my face.

I heard the whistle again, "Ceallachain your out!" Mr. Saul stated.

Rising to my feet I shook my head and glared at Lanny as he pointed and jeer at me. Brad himself was laughing loudly, as he danced past a ball while in his long baggy jersey shirt.

"I hate this game," I grimaced as I walked over to the far wall and sat down. We played two more times that day, and every time Lanny knocked me out. And all, I could think of was his stupid smiling pale round face. Those brown eyes bulging as he pressed a hand to his gut and he laughed. The rage boiled up in me and would say with me all the way home on the bus for the rest of the day.

Afternoon, October 14th, 2007 - Harborview Medical, Seattle

Harborview was like any big city hospital, it was where the worst cases of the most important in the Emerald City were cared for. In the middle of the city, built on one of the hills making up the cities foundation. There, on the sixth floor in a very quiet room was a visiting Irish Professor, A quick glance of her chart would tell the viewer her name was Sinéad Maguire, and she was from Galway in the Republic of Ireland. What it wouldn't tell you was Sinéad was not even sure why she was there. All she could remember was the start of her day and the events leading right up to before it all went black. Invited to lecture on regional languages and indigenous studies at the University of Washington, she was also in the city to visit family. Most of the Maguires had fled Ireland during the tumultuous troubles, and the resulting public outcry. Sinéad herself while appearing as a simple professor, was also a woman many in her home county knew as "Song Spirit". That was what it said on her MID, and that's one reason she was also in Seattle.

A death among her American cousins had pushed plans in the work for over a year. It did help that her associates in Ireland, a team dubbed Fianna, were in the grips of a scandal involving the MCO. The specifics were once again not clear to her, but what she did know was it involved an underaged traveler girl, and one of her students a boy named Brian. Mutants in Ireland weren't hated, but they weren't beloved either. Toss in the politics of the traveling community plus a large traveler girl's family including her da and several brothers, and shat hit the fan quickly. After using what influences she could to move the lad over to England for a spell, she decided that the death of her cousin Michael was a good push for her to finally take the guest lecturer position in Seattle.

Her first week in Seattle had been perfectly fine. The weather was similar to her family home in Galway, and the coast reminded her when she grew up in Connemara. Even the fishing boats resting at nets on the coast added to the nostalgia she felt upon seeing them. The sky was cloudy, just like home, and the fall sun just as bright. But something was -wrong- as well. Once she stepped off that plane into SeaTac she all of a sudden felt at odds with the world around her. First, it was an itch along the back of her neck, and the whole day before the lecture she was feeling a growing sense of anxiety.

Right before leaving the hotel she walked right into the bathroom to examine herself. Just as always her flaming red hair and green eyes met her gaze. Like any Exemplar woman, she was good looking, with each movement punctuated by the muscle underneath her half-nude form. She checked her eyes, her mouth, and even sang a small ditty to herself. Her codename, Song Spirit, came from her ability to manipulate sound and to entrance people. Since she had manifested, and taken on the burden as a Draoi, or druid, she'd had a deep connection to her Gaelic heritage. As always, looking at herself revealed that sense of double-vision, as if seeing herself through someone else’s eyes. Initially, it took her months to get used to it, but now after being bonded to her spirit for so long she felt right at home in her body.

"Sigh, mornin’ Morgan, mornin' Sinéad," she said to herself. Her brogue was thick like any girl born from Connemara, but it also held a distinct sing-song flavor to each syllable. Even when out and about she had to watch her voice, or she'd cause someone to stop paying attention. This was especially dangerous when in a cab, or when walking in a crowded street.

Sinéad completed her morning ritual and set aside a small bag of runes carved with Ogham, the old line and dash writing of the ancient Irish. Much like a Norse rune reading she asked a simple question like, "WIll my day be fruitful?" and drew a series of runes from their bag. The runes themselves were small flint stones marked with words in Old Irish. Most were simple words such as "luck" or "health", others were more complicated such as "reaper" and "carriage." So when she drew the rocks from their home this morning and the words spelled out "old friend, bad luck", she was nervous.

There wasn't any actual magic to the runes, but she knew in her gut that something was wrong. The truth was she'd made them up after a friend did a Norse rune reading five years ago, and usually kept them around for the placebo of decision making. And yet, she eyed those words again and tried to fathom what by Dagda's grace they could mean. Red eyes narrowed and widened at them, as she bit her lip uneasily.

"Feck it," she grunted, 'I got shat ta do, and na' much time ta do it."

The Irish lass gathered up the cast runes and shoved the bag quickly into her purse. Whatever bad luck old friend meant, she'd have to figure it out later.

She put on the simple grey pullover for the weather, and a nice pair of khaki trousers. Her favorite leather shoes were next, and after fussing with her hair for ten minutes she declared it "good enough".

The walk from the hotel to the university lecture hall was a few blocks, but Sinéad barely minded a thing. While walking past a window display from a local boutique she cast a glance and caught a girl walking the other way, straight black hair, and a hoodie pulled up over her head. Strange, dun remember passing her by. The Irishwoman ignored the thought and continued on her way. 

The noise of the city was a bit much for her and while waiting for the crosswalk when the eerie sense of someone staring at her caused her to glance over her shoulder. No one was there, again she shrugged it off and continued on her way. Along her way she tucked her purse closer to her person instinctively, and soon passed the last block before arriving at the Communications Building on the University Campus.

Sinéad inhaled deeply before pushing open the door to the building and made her way to the elevator. Pressing the button for the second floor she wrapped her arms around herself as she banished whatever anxiety was starting to creep up her spine. The door opened perfectly on cue and she scooted her way past a brunette student waiting to enter. Just as her lecture was to begin she walked into the Simpson Center lecture hall. Row upon row of seating awaited her and was quite full as she padded down the right side of the room.

'Oh, dang, sorry fer bein' late," she said while passing one of the faculty, a woman dressed in long black skirt and black blouse.

"No worries Doctor Maguire, we were just starting to file in, you are on time," the woman replied. Sinéad smiled her eyes alight with vigor.

"Alright, shall we start?" she asked and set down her purse before removing a jump drive.

"Yes, the computer is ready if you have the correct file we should be able to start your presentation," the faculty member said. Meanwhile, a tall student in a black button-up shirt and jeans stood up to address the audience.

"Thank you, everyone, for attending this afternoon's guest lecture by Doctor Sinéad Maguire!" he began before continuing, "As you may have heard, Dr. Maguire has recently published her study on the current status of the Celtic Languages of the British Isles. As per usual, please wait for the Doctor to complete her presentation and then we will be allowing a short question period thereafter."

Sinéad gulped, this was a small audience and far smaller than the crowds she was used to. As Song Spirit, she was a leading member of Galway's Fianna, and she wasn't at all inexperienced in presenting herself to the public. Under her real identity though she rarely did anything but conduct her research and present it for peer review. Now, for the first time since she was invited, she would actually be putting her results for others to see. Well, for those not directly in her small circle of fellow Doctoral experts of indigenous European Languages.

"Hello everyone, an' before I begin, I just wan' ta say thank ta the Washington Celtic Society here in Seattle for the invitation and providing for my visit," she breathed slowly to calm her nerves.

"I also want ta say thank ye ta everyone for attendin' my lecture. While many may not know, the native regional languages of Europe face an' uphill battle. We in the Republic have nationalized our native tongue, bu' only maybe twenty percent of citizens speak it actively." She continued discussing the statistics before opening up her powerpoint presentation and showing a brief history of the language. Once the data flowed she eased the cadence of her voice, letting her voice carry her growing confidence she leaned back against the table where the projector rested.

"Now, when I conducted my research, I did so with explicit permission while spendin' weeks at a time in well known Brythonic and Goidelic language settlements. The Gaeltacht of Ireland, in towns in the Hebrides of Scotland. These areas are home to defined dialects and vary between that spoken as the standard in their home country. Wales, which is noted as having a far higher speaker population itself shows stronger Welsh presence in those areas farthest away from the dike built by King Offa."

In all her time in between work with the Fianna, she had picked up how the traditions of the Draoi were found throughout the Isles. If the University of Galway gave permission for her trip to Bretagne more could be realized! Even more so for personal understanding, she wanted to know more about the elusive tradition she was a part of. Her research for the preservation of her people's language was just a plus along the way.

She was just about finishing up her presentation when a wave of anxiety hit her again. Sinéad felt the wisps of a daze dash through her eyes as she leaned against the table once more. Her right hand curled around the edge of the cheap college furniture as she ran her eyes across the audience. Everyone was intent on paying attention to what she had to say. The genuine fascination they held invigorated her to go further. The Doctor wobbled a bit feeling her legs wanting to give and pushed herself to remain standing.

"Now, what I have noticed through my study, which will require further corroboration," she froze mid-sentence.

At first, she wasn't aware of why she stopped, before her, she realized that pain was exploding in her arm and worming its way to her chest. Her heart beat harder and harder, filling her hearing with its drumming. Slowly, she winced, and felt her legs giving way just as her grip on the table loosened. There was a rush of shocked gasps and when her body impacted the ground it let out a loud thud.

"Someone call 9-1-1," she could make out the faculty member yelling, "I think she's having a heart attack."

The pain continued and slowly drew her away from the light, deeper and deeper until nothing remained.

After blacking out she later found herself in that quiet room in what appeared to be a hospital. The steady beeping of a heart monitor met her wakening senses as she tried to move and found herself completely drained of energy. Did they say a heart attack? But I couldn't have one that easily, right? Questions invaded her sluggish brain and Sinéad closed her eyes. Neither her arms nor her legs wanted to move, and her chest felt like someone had driven a spike into her ribs. 

From her prone position, she shifted her head painfully slow to take in the room. A window glaring with the nightlight of the city was the first thing she saw. Second, she noted the bedside light near her bed and finally at the doorway to the bathroom. Her hospital bed was comfy, not as nice as her bed at home, but it kept the pain at bay. Sinéad licked her lips nervously while trying to make heads or tails of the idling worry returning to her senses. Ever since stepping foot in Seattle, everything felt wrong. Even the day of her presentation had felt off, and the runes were just adding to the fire of confusion. One attempt at sitting up only rendered more pain so before she even began she gave up. A soft thump against the pillow was all she heard as she closed her eyes.

At least she was alone.

Running through the events of the day Sinéad tried to figure what could have happened to cause her to almost die. As a mutant, her health was quite good, and she hadn't even stressed herself out remotely that much with her studies. She ate well, and was fairly young for an exemplar, and should have a long life ahead of her. Other than a few of Fianna's arch-enemies there was no one actively wanting her dead. Song Spirit was the face of the Fianna, but she wasn't one of the biggest targets. No one should even know she was -in- Seattle other than members of her family and her team.

It all left her befuddled as to what happened.

That's when she saw it or finally saw it. In the glare of the window, the smallest movement by the base of her bed. Reacting quickly, she painfully rolled over to spy the mirror facing the edge of the bed and stood still. Her heightened hearing picked up nothing, and nor did she see anyone. 

Again she looked at the window, and again movement, the barest of it on the other side shifting of the blankets. Her muscles protested her reversal in the bed, and as if by magic she found no one on the opposite side as well.

"Tick - Tock," the barest hint of a voice whispered. Sinéad's body tensed, her eyes darted around looking for a source of the sound.

"Tick - feckin' tock, the Rider's run ou' the clock," that stupid voice was feminine, and sounded like a little girl singing under her breath. Whoever, or whatever was speaking showed not a hint of being close enough to her or remotely in the room.

A yelp of frustration emitted from the heroine's mouth as she pounded her fists into the cushion of the bed's mattress. WHO THE FECK IS TEASING ME! WHO ARE YE!

"Just an old friend, come callin'" this time the voice was louder and placed right in front of her. Sinéad's head leaned forward trying to spy someone hiding at the foot of her bed.

"Up here ridden," the words drew her gaze up, and she saw it. The shock of the image hit her harder than a dram of shit whiskey, and it was perhaps the last solid thought she would have.

There in the reflection of the mirror was a girl, well, the body of a girl. A body that vividly lacked a head. It moved directly into view in the glared mirror, and the voice started to hum. Sinéad squinted to make out the body's clothes and realized she was dressed like a young girl from the victorian era. The dress itself was held up by a thick white petticoat and appeared dark-colored. Around the headless neck was a lace collar fitted with a small black ribbon tie. The sleeves went down all the wave over her wrists and were edged in white lace. The only thing she lacked was what made it seem so eerie.

"Dullahan," she whispered. The headless grim-reapers from Irish faerie tales, and there was one right there in her room's reflection.

"Spot on, well done ridden!' the voice chirped and as if to add insult to injury the hands of the body clapped.

"What do you want?" Sinéad croaked, as she began to hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

"Just to finish the job, as I said, tick-tock." The Exemplar tried to wrack her brain for why a magical creature would be wanting to kill her, and how a reflection was going to do the job. Just as she inhaled to focus the hand of the Dullahan snaked away from its resting place at the body's side. It's arm extending inhumanly out to plunge fingertip first into her reflection's chest. Just as it did she felt a burst of pain, and blood began to seep up through the paper hospital gown.

"The poison, wasn't working well enough, and your rider kept you alive," the headless being spoke again.

"How - how?" she coughed.

"Hurt the shadow, and the victim bleeds all the same," the little voice said with a chattering laugh.

"Tick - tock, rider, I know you are in there," the hand whatever it was grasped at her heart and squeezed.

In her dying moment's the only thought she had was the epiphany of what the Dullahan meant by rider. Morgan, the force that gave her her powers, and sustained her. But, the force itself was just that, a force, a spirit without any real name other than Morgana or Morgan as Sinéad called it. Could it be something else?

"Tick - tock lass, the banshee's wailing for ye at home," were the last thing she heard as the mirror monster's hand squeezed her heart till it burst.

 

---

 

Chapter 2 - Striking a Deal

Afternoon, October 15th, 2007 - Lummi Island

Another Monday done and gone, and yet I already was not looking forward to the rest of my week.

The weekend went by too far for my tastes and left me wishing for it to come again faster than before. I groaned as I walked off the bus, and as I stepped onto the curb by the old casino the cool afternoon air hit my face. Somehow, for reasons I could not understand, the temperature had dropped a lot in the last two days. Maybe, it was some sort of a cold front or another storm. There had been a thunderstorm on Sunday night, and it'd woken me repeatedly. I was usually a heavy sleeper, but Sunday night just was not my night. I eventually put on my small TV in my room to will away my energy. Somehow I ended up watching an old episode of Battlestar Galactica playing on the SciFi channel.

That damn robotic dog monster would haunt me to the end of days.

My life was almost rinse and repeat - starting from the beginning to the end of the day. I eventually drifted off to sleep again before waking up to the loud screech of my alarm. I slapped it quiet and rolled out of bed. The cold of my painted cement floor instantly woke me up as I squeaked at the chill in my bare feet. A few loud curses later I was upstairs after getting dressed and ate my breakfast, the usual bowl of off-brand Cheerios. Rinse and repeat, and even class had been dreary to the point of blurring together. The end of today, broke the monotony as I was knocked out of my daydreaming in Algebra class by the bell. The cobwebs were knocked from my mind as I hurriedly jotted down the assignment for the night, and rushed to shove everything into my backpack. There was distinct giggling by two of my classmates as they mocked talking audibly about me and my constant daydreaming. Nothing these past few days seemed to stick.

I snapped my thoughts back to the here and now, letting the chill of the sea breeze stabilize my awareness. It all felt wrong, and the walk up to the dock felt longer than usual. Five minutes later the round shape of the ferry came into view. Its two-story-tall form strangely stuck to the open bowl-shaped hull of the car deck. A quick jaunt down the ramp onto the deck and I was in the crew cabin to wait before most of the other kids arrived. Finding a seat right by the table of the cabin I shrank into a corner to catch a small nap before the boat docked on the other side. Rumbling beneath me signaled the ferry's engine roaring to life, and just as my fellow students started their quiet chatter I zoned out for four wonderful minutes.

"Shit, hey Padraig, we gotta go!' one of the kids yelled at me as I rose and shook myself awake. Outside through the windows, I could see one of the deckhands signaling for the last of the cars to begin their exit up the ramp of the dock. Instantly, I was on my feet, and as I dragged myself out of my seat at the table I caught sight of something. Usually, the crew cabin was where the High School students from the Island went to get away from the cramped quarters of the passenger cabin. My place at the table was a prime spot, especially since it had a nice cushion to sit on. The table itself was usually covered in food and reading the material the ferry crew used to pass the time in between their runs.

What I saw was the headline "VISITING PROFESSOR FOUND DEAD!" in large black letters above a picture of a red-haired woman. It was only a short glance, and the kids shouted at me to hurry up. I snagged my backpack with one hand and slung it over my shoulder as was my habit. As I rushed out the door and onto the steel deck I was again hit by the chill sea wind.

I could hear one of the ferry crew ordering me off the boat as the rest of the kids were already halfway up. I hated last minute jogging and instead broke into a laggardly run to catch up.

Late Evening, October 15th, 2006 - Lummi Island

Mom gave me a ride home that afternoon, which was rare indeed. It was nice to see her in the front seat waiting in the green CRV checking the news on her Gizmatic Smartphone. I walked right up to the car, opened the door after hearing the telltale "thunk" of the car unlocking. My mom was in her forties and usually cut her hair above her shoulders. While reading a pair of glasses were perched on her nose as she sat there wearing an old Seahawks T-shirt and a pair of black leggings.

I told her a bit about the day, and she let me vent about my treatment at school. Mom was best described as particularly defensive of me and my sister. That's what happens when you grow up as a socially defunct child and had a sibling with a genetic disorder. As I thought about it while we drove and I later walked through my home's back door, she had nearly threatened to sue the Elementary school on the Island. The school district's response to my sister’s presumed issues was that she was a diabetic and didn't require that much assistance. For me, this meant I grew up drinking diet rather than sugar soda, and my family was always aware of the need for food.

"Go into the dining room, no TV until your homework is done," mom chided me as I began to unpack my work for the day. The book far heavier than any child should be able to carry made an audible thump as I placed it on the long tan table. An hour later I was on the twentieth problem working through each at a long boring pace. Math wasn't hard for me, I just didn't like it. The way the repetition was drilled into my skull every day in class and the hyperfocus on tests was irritating. I wished they used more real-world problems. Any of the word problems presented were usually so random I think they were written by a chimp with a typewriter. Glumly, I stood up and walked over to get something to drink when the eerie feeling of being watched.

"Help me," came the whisper behind me.

I whipped around and all I could see were the couch and the bay windows of my living room. Shaking my head I opened the fridge to retrieve some milk and decided to just return to work. Dinner would be served soon and I didn't want to have to eat and have homework to do! Another hour passed, and I could hear dad chatting with my sister about her day. Our kitchen was an extension of our massive living room and had a large cook-top built atop an island in the middle of the room. Giving up for the moment on work I joined my father and sibling in what they were talking about.

My dad, Eoin, can be described as the quintessential Irishman. He's got a friendly smile, closed thick curls on his head, and light blue eyes.

"What's for dinner?" I asked lazily, slumping against the dark granite counter.

"Rat on a stick, as always," he smiled. I glanced at my little sister, a dirty blonde girl of twelve, who was busily sketching something.

Let me give a very quick overview of how I appear. I'm about five foot three, and my little sister Sloan is just a head shorter. Her hair looks to be cut in a pixie style, and she was dressed in what can be best described as "hot topic" high fashion. A black t-shirt with "Nirvana" in big white letters and a pair of black pants fringed in red. She's round-faced and appears like my mom, and so she's the one with the brown eyes and pretty face. Me, I have a weak chin, and my nose upturned a little bit.

Most people assume we aren't related, especially with my dark brown hair and green eyes compared to her blonde locks. It made for a lot of awkward conversations when we walked home from the ferry dock.

"Fine, dad whatever," I sighed and returned to work. Just as I turned the corner to the dining room I smiled to see him preparing his famous teriyaki chicken for the day. I was hungry enough to eat half the pan, and just now I could feel that hunger growing. One long moment staring at the problem again, I heard my father announce dinner was ready.

"Dad, can you look at this problem and help me?" I asked as I walked over with the math book in hand.

"Sure, just get your dinner and remember to leave enough rice for your mother," I nodded before I sat down at the counter atop a barstool. Dad looked through the problem and walked me through the section confusing me. One thing I loved about my parents was they wouldn't hold my hand or do my work for me. They would have me do the problem so I would have the actual experience for it. The problem's completion freed me for the evening so I hugged Dad and proceeded to put away my work for the night.

My stomach growled loudly while I did, and my spine was starting to ache. Not my back, but my spine, and for some reason, all the muscles along my upper arm and my calf were hurting. Eating appeared to cause pain to calm for a moment before it flared up once again. I set aside my dish for the night before walking it down the stairs to my basement room. The pain increased with each step, going from my calves down into my ankles and up into my thighs. I whined a little drawing the attention of one of our dogs, a large Newfie mix named Jasmine, who nuzzled my side. My hands flew to her head as I fell to my knees to give her ears a good strong scratch.

I didn't say anything to her, just reveled in how her concern made me feel a bit less focused on the pain. By the time I was ready for the night, I found whatever energy in me completely drained. As I laid back and closed my eyes I winced as pain exploded across my forehead. Heated agony crawled up my arms and bit my shoulders. 

Evening, October 17th, 2007 - The Dreamscape

My eyes opened, and I felt a cool breeze tickling my body. Instantly I felt an absolute disconnect between my body and my self awareness. I looked down at myself and noticed my form was covered in strange clothing. How would I describe it? My feet were encased in a pair of soft leather boots, I wore a pair of leggings, and a long dark green tunic as a top. Instantly, I was reminded of how I always thought of people in Middle Earth dressing and my tunic came to mind. On the chest was a single black bird, something shaped like a crow. Around my hips was a cinched thick belt.

So I guess I was in some sort of fantasy dream. I mean on the one hand, I was in a very realistic dream, one where I not only felt the chill of the evening breeze, but I could feel the soft wet ground of the moss beneath my boots.

"This isn't you," I heard behind me, and I whipped around to see who spoke to me.

What met my gaze was a woman far taller than I was. She was from my guess at least six foot tall, and towered over me. Her face was heart shaped, and even as I took a step back away from her she grimaced at me. Unlike my tunic the woman was wearing a dress, one the color of soot. It was the sort of dress you'd expect Queen Guinivere to wear in Camelot. The general bodice of the dress fit her chest snugly and was held around her waist by a silver belt. What made me think of King Arthur was the sleeves of the dress, they wound to her wrists and then draped down. I was confused and found myself staring at her chest before she clucked to regain my attention.

"Sa, tis is wha I'm suppose ta work wit?" her accent was Irish, I think, and her voice was melodic to my ears.

"Um...who are you?" I asked and found myself trembling as she leaned back and let out a loud roaring laugh.

"Oh tat's good lass," she spoke and rubbed her nose, "Tats very good!"

"Lass?" I inferred. Was she messing with me? I mean she couldn't possibly know-

"O' carse I do! Yer hallow beats with yer true self lass, and even now yer dreamself changes ta fit it!" Her voice seemed to carry as I looked down at myself and gasped, My hips were wider, and I saw the distinctive bump of breasts beneath my tunic. I gazed up at her and felt a million questions coming to mind.

"I need ye lass, I hate ta say tis, but I had no choice bu' ta enter yer hallow before I could ask," she leaned toward me and caught my chin. It was almost motherly in how she caressed my jaw.

"What's a hallow?" I said as I felt myself in a daze.

"I can't describe it, but do you want ta be a girl? A real girl?" she asked me and I just watched her in awe.

"Um...yeah I meant I feel so wrong that my soul hurts! I wish I had hair like yours, and I was strong as you look," I gushed a little. My voice was a rush of emotion and stuttered as I tried to understand this cruel joke she was playing on me.

"I can make it happen, but I hafta exact a price from ye," she said darkly. Releasing my chin from her grasp she turned and faced away. It was then I saw the dream landscape around us begin to come clearer into focus. All around us was open bogland, or moors, or even winding hills. Whatever it was, it was green, and open to clear blue sky. Before the woman was a single tall grey stone. I stumbled toward it and shuffled past the woman as I found myself rushing over to press my hand to the stone. Taller than me and her, the stone was covered in dark green moss, and was half-sunk into the ground. Three feet from the ground a rivet was cut into it's surface and it steadily spiraled inward.

"The spiral, the eternity, this is where I was honored, a place where no one thinks to walk," she said, and I realized how completely deserted the land around us was.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Yer dreams lass, but also a place in memory," she padded over and placed her hand in mine.

"After the Great War, I awoke and bonded to a woman named Moira O'Reilly. During the second World War we fought in Europe and she was slain. But before she died, she introduced me to my next Draoi, or Druid, Christine. Each generation, I have found a new host, and we fought any who sought to sow chaos and sorrow in their wake." Her words enchanted me as she spoke. I canted my head to look at her, and I could see how deeply sorrow was etched into her face.

"At first each Druid was slain by happenstance," she stated before gritting her teeth in front of me. "Then recently, an assassin came for Sinéad my beloved. They killed her and I do not know WHY!"

She whipped around to show me something and four women appeared before us. First, was a woman dressed in the fatigues of a British Soldier: a round helmet, khaki green jacket and pants. Her hair was bright red, and a smattering of freckles covered her face. The second woman was a brunette with bright green eyes, and she was wearing the clothes of a nurse from the nineteen forties. A third sat there looking me over while crossing her arms. Unlike the other two she was grim and wore dated nineteen seventies fatigues with combat boots, and a black bomber jacket.

"Moira, Christine, Jenny now...now I've lost Sinéad," her voice cracked and I could only reach up to place my hand on her shoulder in comfort.

"I don't know what I've done, all I did was rest, and lend them my voice, and my strength," she stopped before she used a sharp dismissive gesture to make the images of the women disappear.

"I've been bullied all my life, and I'm terrified of what could happen if I actually out myself," I squeaked by the spirit woman's side. Her hand snaked along mine and I looked up at her."I offer again lass, I can make you a real girl, I can make you stronger and give you the power to fight back," she said I could hear there was a "but" in there somewhere.

"But, you need me, just like them, you need me as your host, right?" I asked, "You have to possess me."

"It's nothin' like tat girl, but it would mean ye would be hunted like the others," she said and slowly knelt in front of me.

"I mean...there are heros out there, and villains like Reaper...and Miss Astarte." I remembered watching a video once as a child, and seeing the power of the heroine as she utterly smashed a villain trying to use a bus of children as a sacrifice. The woman's hands rested on my shoulders, and I felt her hands knot fists in my tunic.

"I no longer wish to rest, and hide. I want to make them pay for killing my daughters, and for hunting me," her voice was a whisper to my ear.

"I'm Irish and Swedish, my mom always talks about the rage of her family. And I swear my dad is a leprechaun. I don't mind being in danger, if it means I can finally take hold of my destiny in my own hands." My little speech was one I had thought about at length, and one I had harbored longer than the words came to mind. Growing up I saw myself not as the knight in shining armor, but the defiant princess who led her people to victory. Of the daughter who made her parents proud, and who spoke up for the wrongness of the world. That's when I felt it, a bone deep anger I had ignored for so long.

The woman's eyes widened, and I shook a little as I grit my teeth to control it. My rage wasn't for just bullying, but was for the way people had treated me at the notion of being "gay". Of trying to tell me that being queer was not just bad, but was a sin. Never in my life had I done a thing to these people, and yet I knew they would hurt me if I hinted at being a trans girl.

"That's what drew me to ye, yer anger lass," she said, "And I agree. There are ta many tings rotting around ye."

I nodded in agreement.

"Sa what do ye say daughter of Eoin, do ye accept me offer?" she asked and offer me her hand.

"Aye, I do," I responded and I gripped her hand in my own. Suddenly, a burst of fiery emotion swept over me and the vision around me turned to black.

 

---

 

Chapter 3 - Strings Attached

Early Morning, October 19th, 2007 - Ferndale High School

"Oh my god, it's like ice picks to the soul!" Mister Olmstadt exclaimed from his place before the Orchestra. His hands were pressed against his temples, and all of us were laughing. My seat was a little hard for my back, and as I tried not to squirm in front of him I laughed along with the rest. The problem lay in one section of our merry lot somehow not getting the idea of an E-flat. Even as we began again my hands deftly moved along, and my hearing allowed me to track the pace with increased precision. Three days after my dream of making a deal with a woman claiming to be an Irish Goddess, and I felt confused.

I mean, no one was going to just make me a girl right? Sure, I'd noticed a slight loss of weight recently, and my fingers were a lot more fine-boned than before. Each time I ran my left hand along the neck of my violin I felt the strings hum along with the stroke of my bow. It was fantastic! I was decent at the violin, but my senses all felt a lot more alive than usual. Maybe a radioactive spider bit me! Or maybe the dream -was- real. Still, that sort of thing wasn't going to just happen in the middle of nowhere, right?

Class ended without any fuss as our Teacher and grump of a Conductor were grabbing the music for his next class. I gathered up my things and pulled on my jacket.

"Padraig," he said and waved me over, I came to stand in front of the conductor's stand and rolled on my feet.

"I noticed your intonation has increased pretty well recently, I just want you to consider moving into the first violin section," he said to me and gave his compliment offhand.

"Thanks, Mister Olmstadt!" I chirped and as I spoke my voice broke. This wasn't the first time I had gone through puberty joke of voice shifting, but this time it shot an octave higher.

"Okay there squeaker, just have a good day," he said and offered me a shake of his hand before shooing me out of the classroom.

A few more periods later, it was time for lunch, and I could feel my positive energy deflate. My old friend pessimism reared its ugly head again as I soon found myself shoved aside as one of the Senior's pushed his way out of the bathroom.

"Yeah, Diabolik's kids have sighted in New York apparently," I heard a girl chatting to a friend as I meandered back into the boy's room.

"Hey freak, move faster already," I heard a yell from behind and caught sight of Sophia Jameson jumping out of the way of a known Cheerleader.

Sophia was a member of the location's first name, the Lummi, who lived on a reservation across from my home island. Every day she rode on the bus behind my seat, and every day I paid her little heed. Her name and who she was only came to mind for an incident that occurred freshman year. Like most members of the tribe, Sophia usually stuck with the other native American students when at lunch. That all changed however when she had manifested as a mutant over the summer. Most of the rumors said she was some sort of thunder or lightning energizer. The truth was I didn't know anything at all about her. Mutants did exist here in Whatcom County, but generally, they stayed quiet in small cities like Ferndale.

Ferndale was a stronghold of the conservative power base and a healthy Humanity First presence. Most of the kids at school were obvious baseline purists, and any child remotely showing a sign of an eye change was usually targeted thereafter.

"Yeah, whatever," was all I heard Sophia say as she turned from the hallway and glared at me through the boy's room door. I flinched and ducked into a stall to avoid her. Once I entered, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and fell to my knees as the pain from two days ago returned. Feeling the immediate urge to vomit I shoved my face into the bowl of the toilet and wretched for the next two minutes. Once I wiped my face clean with a bit of toilet paper I rose unevenly to my feet before stumbling out of the stall. My eyes were blurry as I caught the edge of the sink and steadied myself. After splashing some cold water on my face I caught sight of a long-haired figure behind me wearing a black hoodie in the mirror. I spun around to look for another would-be bully and found nothing instead.

"Creepy," I said as I slowly shuffled out the door right nearly into Sophia Jameson's body.

"Watch it!' she growled at me, and I murmured an apology before pushing past her and out the door toward the gym.

Sophia was just not in the mood to deal with any more of Brad Finkbonner's clique when the Cheerleader, a tall Hispanic girl, decided to scream freak at her. Sure, she was a mutant, and she held no shame over it! Her mother was an established member of the Whatcom Alliance, a pan-town superhero team based out of Bellingham to the south. Even more so her grandfather was a respected Shaman! No, there was no reason for her to flinch, to shrink away, or give ground to some small-minded baseline. But while her mom, Samantha, was an Energizer, she was a Wizard or more correctly Witch. Even now as she casually loitered by the bathrooms to avoid the usual High School politics she stroked a charmed stone around her neck.

Grandfather had said to keep it on her at all times, and that it would absorb the essence around her. Sophia knew it was a simple piece of rock, but all the same, it held meaning just by being a gift from her grandfather. Her actual powers testing wouldn't happen for another week and only a cursory examination by her grandfather would she know if she truly was a Wizard. Still, there were a few things she 'felt' when she was off the reservation and away from the quiet cedar scented house she called home. Here and there she had "feelings" of things, which she assumed was magic. And just as that weird kid, she thought his name was "Paul" walked passed her she caught sight of something in the mirror just before the boy's room door closed shut.

It was a girl, well what looked like a girl. Just a second to catch the image and already she felt a wave of negativity wash over her. This is bad, very bad, I need to tell Grandpa about this!

Her thoughts raced as she turned around while fingering the stone around her neck. Small comfort for whatever she just saw which sent a chill down her spine.

Early Morning, October 20th, 2007 - Lummi Island

"Goddess!' I whined as my eyes snapped open to the green light of my alarm clock. The digital glare hurt my eyes and made the migraine warp the lines of the light into a pained haze. Lifting myself up, I sat and stared at the window twenty feet away. A bare memory of my dream left me shrinking away from the dark brown curtain I rarely opened. The damn thing was dark enough to keep my room the nice dimness I preferred.

"What bloody time is it?" I sighed to myself as I turned back to note it was Five AM. Ah yes, ye olde crack of dawn. The early morning was ick to me, and just as I was about to roll over to curl up I realized there was no way I was going back to sleep. Nope, whatever exhaustion in me remained but joined the dull leaden feeling wrapped around my limbs. I imagined a pair of weights shackled to my feet and wrists. Just trying to move resulted in my hands and my head lolling back against the pillow. Screw this, I didn't want to move anyway.

Five minutes later or what I assumed was five minutes I was splayed out over the bed atop my blankets. My back arched, as I dug my fingers into the throw blanket balled up by my head.

"It was just a dream, just a damn dream," I muttered. Alternating between staring at the ceiling tiles and my alarm clock did nothing for me. Perhaps another half hour later I summoned the strength to lift myself up a second time. The result was a creaking in my body as my right hand shot out to steady myself.

"I need a shower," I croaked.

Another agonizing three minutes later I was making my way into the downstairs bathroom. Dressed only in my boxers and a t-shirt I shivered at the chill of an early fall morning. The cement floor did nothing to help and only numbed my feet with every step. I locked the door and turned on the water. First the cold shock and a small squeak from myself, and finally the hot cleansing I needed to purge my skin of the filth from the night before.

I used a brush to scrub my skin raw, and I'd never realized how sensitive my body was. The burning I left across my own flesh was somehow a release from the aches of my bones the night before. As I hung my head and pressed it up against the blurred glass of the shower stall I felt an eerie presence once more. For a second I swore I saw the rough black shape of someone just outside but was completely impossible.

Fear gripped me and tugged at my heart. I shut off the water and listened for whoever could be just outside.

Finally, after a moment of waiting, I nudged the shower door open.

There was nothing there, and I giggled at how silly I was being. Just like the dream with the Goddess, there wasn't some scary monster woman chasing me. Nah, that was just another nightmare of a hormonal teenager.

The time to dry off took longer than usual and I growled in frustration at how thick my hair was getting. Weird, I should have a little bit to shave off my face this morning, and yet my face was totally smooth. It felt so nice, and for a fleeting moment, that sense of a burden lifted returned to me.

Still aching and strangely calm I used my towel to wipe the fog clear of the bathroom mirror. As I leaned in to look and reach for my toothbrush I noticed my eyes. They were green as usual, the green of forest moss, but there was something off about them. A ring of bronze now lightly throbbed in the center of my pupil. I gasped, as I suddenly realized that my eye color had become far more intense than before.

Oh by the Gods, it dawned on me, I'd manifested - I was a mutant.

Late Evening, October 20th, 2007 - Dreamscape

My boots crunched on the frosted grass and moss of the bogland. Out here where the fairy mounds rose out of the mists of morning fog like a mountain peak seen from the heavens. I pulled the trews higher up and readjusted my belt so the trousers weren't uncomfortable. Over my shoulder was pinned the cloak every noble wore, and around my neck was a silver torc. This was my dream, and I was sure I was lost in a fantasy straight out of Rob Roy. And I just trudged further until I came to stand by the old broken faerie ring.

Only one stone remained where once a hundred stood. The spiral cut into the stone ebbed with energy from the leyline beneath it, and I could feel the essence pulsating underneath my feet.

"This is where it all started," she said beside me. I turned to gaze at the red-headed woman from nights ago.

"So....what's happening to me?" I asked, my voice was clearly more feminine than it once was.

"What I promised to ye," she said while caressing the spiral, "I'm making you the woman you are meant to be."

"How is this possible?" I murmured.

"You're a Draoi, just like my last host, a Druid," she gave me a half-mirk with those blood-red lips.

"Okay, you are just tossing obscure terms at me now," I groaned.

"It means," she leaned forward and reminded me how tall she was, "you have the ability to host spirits like me."

"And you are making me a girl?" I proffered to her.

"That was the deal lass, an' in return ye keep me essence alive," she murmured. I watched her and stepped away from the stone.

I watched her and brushed a bit of dew off the cloak clipped to my shoulder by a raven shaped broach. I did notice that my dream self was far more girly compared to only a few days ago. Both hands ran down my torso and I felt a small satisfaction in the breasts I found upon my chest. Feeling the slight swell of my hips, this was who I was meant to be. I turned my eyes to the woman who was now kneeling by the stone.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"A shadow of who I once was," she smirked in return.

"That's a bit deflective," I sighed.

"I was not named 'The Morrigan', but it is the one I use," she said to me quietly, "But it is who I became."

The woman's features appeared uncomfortable with the question, so I wondered if I should even keep pushing. But, deep down inside I felt the need to know more about this spirit who was changing my life so suddenly.

"Can you tell me when your ready?" I asked gently and I added, "I'm sorry I'm just very curious."

"I can understand, lass, Sinéad's loss just hurts so much," she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, "And changing you is taking nearly all my strength."

The next half-hour or so I just spoke with her and at one time we started to sing. I'm not sure how to describe it, but through the song, we started to feel a sense of closure. One part of our lives was over, and another was just beginning. Finally, as I could feel myself waking I just said, "Thank you."

Her features broke for a second time showing genuine care she had for me. I dare say I could read her expression as love! I stepped closer to her and embraced her midsection as she placed her hands upon my back.

"No thank you little one, you have saved me, and will give me this one last chance," she whispered.

 

---

 

Chapter 4 - Rebirth

Morning, October 21st, 2007 - Lummi Island

The day before my birthday I hid in my room and informed my mom I was sick. She saw how thin I was and muttered about taking me to the hospital only for me to beg her to just let me rest. My dinner, of course, consisted of microwaved Chicken Noodle Soup and several glasses of water. I also asked for some high protein foods and she let me eat a few cans of beans. I say a few because I'm pretty sure I ate at least three after the soup for lunch. The next day I awoke even hungrier as I tried to remain cognizant and lucid.

Opening my eyes that morning I was curious to hear how quiet it was outside. Usually, on my birthday mornings, my family would be upstairs cooking breakfast and waiting for me to wake up. If my birthday was on a Sunday we would attend church in town and eat out afterward. But from what I could tell as I sat up, none of the above was happening. I ran through my memory to figure out what was going on. There was no way in hell my parents forgot my birthday. Likely they were all sleeping in on account of me claiming to be "sick" yesterday. I mean I had pulled the hood on my favorite sweatshirt to hide from mom last night so maybe they were giving me some air.

I glared at the cement floor of my room and decided to bite the bullet and placed a foot down on it. DAMMIT, THAT'S COLD! My lips pulled in a tight line and I just stepped down. Screw this! It was my birthday and one cold floor wasn't going to hold me back. Each step was a tiny icy dagger to the soles of my feet, but I was determined to get dressed for my birthday. Originally, I'd planned to wear my usual band t-shirt black pants combo. I know it wasn't really inventive when it came to fashion. All of my feminized feelings were suppressed for years!

Deep in my pants drawer, I found a pair of cargo shorts. Just holding them up really emphasized the changes which had overtaken me. From what I could tell, my hips had visibly widened enough that pulling on the shorts could be problematic. I fished out a snarky t-shirt with the words "Heavily medicated for your safety" and pulled it over my head. At least my boxers were still pretty comfortable and the shorts were fine after I pulled my belt to its tightest. The shirt proved an issue and as I sat there staring down at my chest I took stock in what was happening.

My hands were slimmer, and so were my legs. Well, my thighs still had a good amount of curve to them and seemed to just make my hips more obvious. A quick glance at my chest told me that my flabby chest was definitely more defined, and yup, I had a small budding pair of breasts. After a few minutes, I resolved to tighten the loose shorts at my navel before running a brush through my long hair. At least that wasn't a big change, I'd had long hair since middle school and honestly, I was proud of my curly locks. All that remained was pulling on a pair of socks to avoid that damn cold floor.

As I padded to the stairs leading up to the kitchen I gulped. This was the day I revealed to my parents I was a mutant, and I wasn't sure how they would react. My mom was a vocal liberal and so she often screamed at the TV whenever Humanity First joined the talking heads. Dad, however, was a bit more laid back and seeing his jovial face in disgust at his newfound daughter was not something I wanted to see.

The hell with it!

I exhaled sharply pressing all the anxiety out and told my worries to feck off! This was -my- bloody day! I stomped up the steps to make it clear I was awake and peeked around the corner into our kitchen. Just like the night before my dad was working at the cooktop frying a bunch of corn beef hash in a pan. He didn't bat an eye and just said, "Hey boss, happy birthday."

Then he looked at me and his eyes widened. I gave a small uneasy laugh as I walked over toward the couch with its back to the bay window. All I could do was flop down and wave at him a little as he turned off the stove and came to sit down by me.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked gently.

Let me say something about my parents. They were hard on me when it came to grades, and if I did something stupid they let me know it! I was fully aware every year of the amount of work they did to keep a roof over our heads and for lack of a better word it did bother me at times. They weren't perfect. My mom often judged my dad after family events down in Seattle, and he was quick to anger as she pressed his buttons.

But nowhere in his eyes did I see hate or a remote bit of disgust. This was the father who'd changed jobs and worked from home so mom could pursue a career as a college professor.

"Um...I think I experienced some changes Friday night, and I awoke to my eyes changed, I guess I'm a mutant," I winced.

"Is there something else?" he asked and placed an arm around my shoulder. Instantly, I leaned in and moved closer his fatherly embrace was safe to me.

Oh, goddess where was mom?

"What honey?" my mom said as she stepped out from the staircase leading to the upstairs. I could tell she'd had a long night likely fighting a migraine, her eyes were a little glazed likely from just waking up.

"Hey mom," I said reenacting my earlier re-introduction to dad.

"Oh baby," she said and I soon found myself hugged from the other side.

"Mom I-" my voice broke and this time I could make out the higher octave.

"Okay why is everyone," I heard my little sister say as she strolled downstairs directly into the kitchen. Her brown eyes opened in shock as I redid the wave to her as well. Unlike my parents, my little sister's reaction was to walk over, get a mug of coffee and add some milk before saying a thing.

Seriously, she did this every day and had been drinking the stuff since she was five.

"Too early, need coffee," I could make out from the kitchen.

"Is this why you were hiding last night?" mom asked.

"Yeah um...I woke up and noticed how different I looked after a shower yesterday morning," I mumbled, anxiety spiked in my chest, "And I wasn't sure how to tell you."

"Tell us what honey? That our son needs us and was scared that we wouldn't accept them?" my dad the ever perceptive counselor finished what I was trying to say.

It was then that I gently broke away from the parental hug and stood up for a moment. Dad gestured for me to take a deep breath as I felt tears filling my eyes. Ever since I was a kid I'd had issues with anxiety and how hard my emotions struck me. This time the waterworks broke and I started to cry as years of repressed feelings washed out.

"Mom...dad...I've always wanted to be a girl but I - I - I" I stuttered as I covered my mouth in shame at what I just said.

"Oh this makes sense," my mom said, "I always did find your excuses for reading those stories a little weak."

Mom's response caught me off guard, yet I had been fascinated with transgender women since I was ten. A random hour-long documentary had drawn my attention and mom can, I guess, read between the lines.

"Padraig, whoever you want to be doesn't matter to me as long as you're happy," dad said and kissed my forehead.

I was crying at this point and even mom was misty-eyed. Throwing caution to the wind, I sat back down and hugged mom so hard and even she said: "Whoa honey you're a bit too strong!"

"Alright," my sister said as she walked from the kitchen, "If you're my big sister now, that means one thing."

"I'm your big barbie doll now?" I replied from my seat on the couch.

"Of course, who else is going to teach you how to dress, do your make up." She even did a small motion with her hand counting off all I would need to learn.

"Sounds about right," I remarked before my dad rose and returned to working on breakfast.

"You'll need to get your powers tested soon baby," mom said and I flinched a little bit.

"Do we have to go to the MCO location in Ferndale," I asked with a small whine attached.

"Yes, unfortunately, that's where they put their offices," she replied, before adding, "your father does know someone in Alliance who could probably do a basic test for you."

Wait, dad worked with the Whatcom Alliance? I thought all he did was work vocational rehab stuff for the state and the American Legion on the reservation.

"Maybe, I'd have to ask if they'd mind it first, but it's an option," dad replied from the cooktop. Meanwhile, my mouth started to water from the sweet smell of cooked potatoes!

"Can I eat breakfast first?" I whined this time louder than before.

"Of course, then we will do your birthday presents since you didn't want a party this year." I nodded slowly and mom said, "But in the light of recent news. I think we will have to make a change of plans."

I frowned, what did she mean by that? Wait, did that mean?

"Ooo we need to go shopping!" my sister cheered as I stared at my mom. Shopping, now, on my birthday? The idea of being dragged out to try on clothes or find things didn't seem fun to me.

"Honey, can you meet us at the restaurant later tonight and I'll go get our oldest something more fitting to wear?" I was surprised to hear her willing to do something so out of the blue. My parents were supportive, but I didn't expect to suddenly go clothes shopping on a Sunday afternoon.

"Mom," I said trying to dissuade her. My current look was fine, I just wanted to get through the day and relax, not get dragged into town to play dress up.

"Too late big sis, we're doing this now," my sister said and pumped a fist into the air.

This day was getting weirder, and weirder.

Noon, October 21st, 2007 - Target

Life was playing a joke on me lately, and I was certain the delusion I was having was going to come crashing down. Even as I opened the door of my mom's Honda CRV I found myself in a daze. After nearly an hour in the car and clamming up to work through my own thoughts I was still surprised. My parents weren't terrible and I hadn't thought they'd disown me like some of the mutant kids I've read about, but I never expected my mom would decide an impromptu girl's day out on the spot. Still dressed in my Hot Topic t-shirt I was busily trying to maintain my composure as my mom picked through her purse for her phone.

"Why did you buy the Gizmatic mom?" sis asked as she was busily texting on her phone to one of her friends from middle school. I had a simple folding phone on me, and yet the more I watched my sister mindlessly staring at the screen the more I was unsure what to do.

"It's a good solid piece of technology," mom replied.

"Sounds good to me," I added as we passed through the automatic doors of Target. I did my best to stay close to mom while we made our way to the women's clothing department. I was surprised that so far we haven't received any of the odd looks I feared. Mom and Sloan disappeared behind a series of racks bursting with clothes. Taking a deep breath, I ran a hand across one of the tops and as I did, I began to feel a strange unnerving itch along my skin.

The itching continued even as I drew my hand back, and it continued with my current top. I ignored it and decided to just watch the cis-girls around me. Sloan was busily moving through a rack and her hands moving each piece of clothing until she found one she liked. She picked each preferred article and held them in her opposite hand. I tried my best to copy the movement, and after a while I got a feeling of what kind of tops I wanted. Honestly, it was hard to put together a new look when I had only fantasy to drive the equation.

I had a few different items in hand and I realized I had no idea what my sizes were now. In one hand I held two tank tops each plain and were listed as mediums. One, a white one, made my hand itch just by holding it and the longer I did the more uncomfortable it became. I put the tank back on a rack as fast as I could and hissed as I noted how red my skin was getting,

"Honey, are you okay?" Mom asked me. I gave a slow shake of my head and showed her the rash. Looking it over she gave a small gasp as the rash receded within a few minutes.

"It was some of the clothes I touched, and my T-shirt I'm wearing. They itch, but the more of it I had to touch me the more it started to hurt," I said.

"That's weird," Sloan remarked as she came to stand beside me.

Mom picked up the tank from me and glanced at it. She seemed intent on reading the tag and finally reached out to pick up another top nearby. Again, as soon as I touched it my hand began to itch. It felt like a swarm of insects crawling over my skin and I withdrew my hand with a hiss.

"Try this one," mom handed me yet another top, this time a baggy sweater. Nothing happened, as soon as I touched it my skin felt fine. I huffed a bit in confusion as mom tapped the side of her jaw.

"We need to do some research, that sweater is hundred percent cotton," mom told me. I sighed as it dawned on me that today was going to be a long - long day.

An hour later, through empirical testing, we figured out I was allergic to synthetic fibers. Sloan commented on how weird it was I wouldn't be able to wear most of the cheaper clothes I liked. Mom, on the other hand, took it in stride and we went through each and every article of clothing I thought about wearing. After a while, we accrued a sizable pile of potential tops, bottoms, and even underwear to try on.

I was standing next to her  while mom was perusing a few skirts for me to wear. She settled on a simple a-line and turned to face me. I noticed that she had her phone in her hand and was reading a text. Not wanting to get admonished for reading the screen I backed up and promptly pressed myself into a cluster of synthetic cloth. My skin exploded in a rash of itching as I yelped at the sudden assault.

"Dear God," mom winced as I back away from the rack and hugged myself. My shirt still itched, but it only got worse the more I touched anything that wasn't naturally sourced.

"Mom, should I start trying on some clothes?" I asked her, and she gave a curt nod. On our way to the changing room, my mom stopped me at the desk and asked the associate for a tape measure. What was she doing? I stood upon the tips of my toes to get better and I heard ,"My daughter is a late bloomer and needs to be measured for her bra size."

A bra? I blinked, of course, I would need one especially with the small, but obviously growing bust I sported. Still, it was an alien idea to me. For years I wanted to buy a bra and feel like the girl I was. The fact it was happening right now in front of me was just surreal. Moments later I was holding my hands above my head as the girl measured straight across my breasts and around to my back. After some chatter, she informed me I was an a-cup, and directed me at a few options hanging along a wall a few feet away.

"How many bras do I need?" I asked curiously.

"Maybe one or two," Sloan answered as she walked over and started thumbing through a few selections.

"Shouldn't I have one for each day?" I inquired.

"No, bras are like pants, you wear them for a few days at a time and then wash them when you need," Sloan shrugged.

It made sense, rarely did I see girls on T.V. wearing matching bra and panty sets. Well, in porn or dramas about the rich did show matching sets. Still the simple fact that I didn't need more than two bras was kind of uplifting. My mom began to teach me a few things and just as she continued Sloan handed me three separate bralettes. I quirked an eyebrow at them and she said something about "just pull them on" and so I just nodded to show my understanding.

Finally, the time came for me to venture forth into the changing room and see if anything actually fit. It was a daunting task, and while I didn't really like trying on clothes I found myself at a crossroads. My anxiety increased with every step rising to the point of all other sounds being drowned out by my solemn movements. The door to the room creaked loudly as I pulled it open and closed it behind me.

A mirror was set into the wall to my right, and three sets of wall-mounts attached to the three walls facing the door five feet from the ground. I began to hang up the various clothes I wanted to try-on sorting by placing them all on the right wall mount.

"You are so slow, GOD!" I heard a groan from Sloan

"Take all your time babes," my mom chortled from the waiting room.

I sifted through the clothing and was able to figure out a collection that didn't elicit the itch. A pair of skinny jeans were the first and I undressed. This is where I met a quandary and I stared at my nude genitals. Yup, things had shrunk and after a painfully dragged out minute, I tucked myself into a pair of boyshorts my mom had found for me. Next came the jeans which were snug against my hips and pulled up. Neither itched my skin and that tightness felt right. For the first time in my life, tight clothes didn't make me squirm about my weight or worry about how I looked.

Anxious to move forward I squirmed into the bralette and adjusted the best I could, thankful that my stomach had shrunk down likely thanks to my growing curves. The last piece was a simple black cotton tank top Sloan found for me. Again, I had to struggle a little bit pulling it over my shoulders and tugged the material down to cover my navel. After brushing back my hair I closed my eyes and turned to face the mirror.

One, two, three, and I snapped open my eyes. Where do I begin? How do I even fathom the vision before me or the fact that it...was me? Green eyes, my normal eye color, which glittered like emeralds. A pair of scarlet lips that would easily reveal a smile to brighten anyone's day. I still had my pixie nose, but a lot more had changed. My eyes were much larger, and I now sported much more pronounced eyelashes. Even my eyebrows seemed beautiful in their gentle arches upon each brow. I studied my chest again in the clothes and slowly reached out to really admire my hair.

You see my hair has always been this long tangle of curls that gains volume in hot air. The curls were much thicker and more vibrant and even as I watched I felt a line of pain jolt up my spine and into the base of my neck. It felt like something was slicing a knife right up my back and I yelped.

"Honey," I heard my mom walked towards the changing room door, "Are you okay."

Slowly, I opened the door and cringed at its creak. Stepping out, I did a small twirl around for her to see the outfit and she pressed her hand to her mouth and gasped.

"How um - do I look?" I asked her. Hopefully, she wouldn't ask about my changes or the amount of pain they were causing.

"Hey, Sloan come tell your sister how she looks," mom called and on cue, my sister drifted into sight. A pair of jeans, black boots, and her black jacket pulled over as she texted away on her phone. I waved my hand at her to try to get her attention and she immediately flipped me the bird. A shy smirk came as a response from me in response.

"You don't look like a Padraig anymore," she replied and pocketed her phone before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Actually," I started as I turned to face mom.

"And did you look like a Sloan, no, but your dad liked the idea of naming you a little raider," mom said to my sibling before giving me her attention.

"I...hate my name," I admitted, "I would prefer to be called Gráinne."

"Gráinne? Really?" Sloan asked curiously before I blushed at her.

"It can mean corn or wheat," I started.

"Are you sure you want it as a name," mom inquired giving me a raised eyebrow.

"But...and I looked this up - it also likely means the Sun." I countered to them both as I put both hands on my hips and smiled proudly.

"You know with the way her hair is eerily lighting up that isn't off and," Sloan giggled, "it would fit her need to be the center of attention."

"HEY!" I squawked at her.

"You two, be good, or we'll go straight home," mom stated firmly.

"Yes, mom!" We both said before uttering a rough "I'm sorry"to each other.

Immediately, I darted back into the changing room and closed the door. In a rush, I tried on a few more sets of clothes and was able to affirm that I was able to wear a particular brand of underwear as well as four shirts and another pair of pants. The one skirt my sister had grabbed for me was a classic black mini that fell just above my knee and I took devil delight in wearing it. Once I was done, I knew then and there, this was the end of any notion that I was a boy. I was a girl, it didn't matter if my dick was still there, I was a girl. There was no -arguing- with that damn fact!

Mom paid for all the clothes as I fidgeted by her at the checkout line. The teen working the register eyed me a bit to the point of ogling me. When I realized his intense gaze I stepped behind my mom as my sister looked at me a bit perplexed. After leaving the front I headed to the women's room to change. Walking through that door required a lot of courage and again I found myself needing a slow deep breath. My anxiety was on edge these days, and it was razor-thin. It squiggled under my skin and made me want to just jump into a run.

I scooted past the mirrors and sinks straight into a handicap stall and proceeded to change. I made sure to put on the receipt on top of the toilet where I couldn't lose it. There was no way in hell I was going to be that "shoplifting mutie girl". Growling a little at the very idea of it I shimmied into my new clothes with a near reckless abandon. Having them on them unleashed a level of stress I didn't know I was holding in my heart.

Skipping out in my steel-toed boots I giggled at the loud clomping they made as I came to stop. I looked silly, but the still defiant teenybopper. Just turned fifteen and I was ready to burn the whole world down! Now I just had to get through dinner with my parents. The thought of it brought an eager desire to show dad the new me and to be in public. If that one boy was confused about who I was, maybe I was more than able to pass!

“You are a beautiful soul.” I swore I heard as a whisper in my ear as I turned to leave.

Early Evening, October 21st, 2007 - Bellingham

"Here in KSM, it's love from the nineties," the radio blared as mom pulled out of Target. I sat in the front seat slowly watching the mall pull away from us. The clothes on my body didn't cause nary an itch, and as I heard the opening chords to the song starting on the radio I began to hum along. My hand absentmindedly tapped along.

"Another head hangs lowly,

A Child is slowly taken."

As we reached the chorus I was blaring it out to the point that my mom rolled down the window. I wouldn't notice it, but I was crying. An overwhelming sense of sorrow overcame me as I brushed my nose. Rubbing my eyes I stopped as singing the last line hung in the air as I just couldn't stop sobbing. Flashes of feeling jolted through me as the words from the song and as I turned to look at my mom I saw how she was giving me quick sideways glances. I huffed loudly as the pain building in my chest finally gave and I sighed demonstratively.

"Honey are you okay?" my mom asked worriedly. Brushing away as many of the tears I could I sniffed.

"Mom...all I can say is I know what the song's about," I said to her.

"Sis are you okay," I heard Sloan and turned around in my seat to smile at her.

"Yeah, just, all these changes are giving me mood swings," it was the best excuse I could think of for them and myself.

It was my birthday I was not going to get caught up in why my emotions were all over the place. After just a few moments of quiet we pulled into the parking lot to the restaurant where'd I'd be having dinner. Already, I could see my bud John waiting outside. Oh, gods that was going to be a complicated explanation. The other member of my gang of friends. Sloan got out before us and skipped over to John and gave him a hug. As I drew near I could see his eyes bug out of his head as I reached up behind my head and rubbed my back.

"Padraig?" he gasped.

"Yeah...so I'm a mutant," I said casually and just loud enough.

"Whoa man," he gave a slow nod, the ring on his lower lip spun nervously.

"Is that a problem?" Sloan asked pointedly.

"No - NO!" he laughed, "You're you still, right?"

"Yeah, I'm not some alien replacement," I joked.

"Dude, really Pod People? That's a bit dated," he laughed along.

I opened the door to the restaurant, a place a lot like Red Robin, but a local form known as Billy McKales. There was even a silly little train that ran along the top of the wall. It was one of my favorite places to dine at and for reasons I think are quite understandable I was so damn hungry! John had been dropped by his dad and my parents instantly agreed to give him a ride home. My dad was waiting, reading a copy of the Foundation novels.

"Hey boss lady," my dad quipped at me and rising to give me a long hug.

"Thanks, Dad," I smiled before the hostess came and led the way toward our table. We lucked out with a booth and so this time I wouldn't need much work to hide my new status as a mutant. Honestly, it was my birthday and since my parents accepted me with open arms I didn't give a fuck on what others thought. This state of bliss wouldn't last that long, but I embraced it head-on.

A server passed out our menus and immediately I inhaled as I realized how hungry I was getting. Tapping my fingernails against the tabletop to the point where my mom decided to just ask.

"Gráinne," I perked up at her use of my preferred name.

"Yeah?" I replied slowly.

"We've scheduled powers testing in Ferndale on Friday." my father told me.

"Okay," I said biting my lip, "Mom...I think I'm going to need to eat a lot tonight."

Dad's reaction was to look a little surprised and I could already see his mind working away at the realization of feeding a transforming mutant daughter.

"Okay honey, I think we should contact the doctor to also see you," she started as I scooted over as the server arrived to take our orders. Immediately I ordered two different hamburgers and a basket of fries. My sister went for a sandwich as John ordered a large french dip as did my mom. Dad finished by ordering a reuben. We all ordered our drinks and the woman left, though she did give me a slight frown before leaving. That was weird. Was my new status that obvious. I blushed for a moment as I decided to ask my little sister.

"Hey um is it obvious," I mumbled.

"What?" she said right beside me in confusion.

"Is it obvious that I'm a mutant?" I stated the words carefully so others would not overhear.

Sloan leaned in to inspect my face to the point where she was giving me that squinty eye expression people got when they really wanted to spy something. I gave her a slightly uncomfortable cast across my face before she leaned out of my personal bubble.

"It's your eyes," Sloan shrugged, "Your face otherwise is normal looking if a bit androgynous."

"Dude, she's right," John piped up, "Your eyes are the only thing that could give you away."

"Is something wrong?" I asked plaintively.

"No, babes, the only thing is your eyes are probably the greenest I've ever seen them," my mom said finally putting my worries to bed, for now. I decided to table the conversation for the rest of the evening if I could. Off the top of my head, I was already worried about how my classmates at school would react. One of them had shoved Sophia Jameson nearly into an oncoming car earlier this year. If I was going to be facing the same level of racism, I wanted to be ready.

Food came about twenty minutes later and we had been chatting amongst ourselves. Dad was curious about how I felt about the changes, and I was gushing pretty hard because my body was changing. He even asked why I liked Gráinne, informing him of the long search I'd made. This also eventually led to the many reasons I came to dislike my given name of Padraig. First, my family had originally spelled it out publicly at school as Patrick, my long name usually caused people to laugh at me and mock me in class. He seemed genuinely hurt that people would take it to such a level; I even admitted that part of my self-repression of my transgender nature was part of that simply stupid joke.

There was that, and how people always seem to exaggerate my name to ask if I was Irish. Yes, I'm Bloody Irish, as Irish as Leonardo DiCaprio is -not- in feckin' Gangs of New York. Every time I introduced myself to some adults, I always had to be asked: "Are you Irish". It was grating on my ears, pushing me to want to distance myself as well as possible. I think in many ways it was one of the reasons I was so enamored with my heritage.

"At least you didn't choose a Swedish name," mom smiled.

"Why? I was thinking of changing my second name as well," I replied, a bit confused.

"Oh, which one?" mom asked, "your grandfather Herald told me to avoid Swedish names at all cost."

"I was thinking Hilde, it means battle," I replied.

"Gráinne Hilde," she said the name quietly, "Not bad, we may need to think over it."

I smiled and stretched in my place as the food arrived. As soon as the smell of cooked meat came to my senses I began to feel my mouth water. When the plate was placed on the table in front of me I seized upon it like the starving lass I was. Biting into it I didn't care what got on my face as long as I ate, and as I ravenously finished off the first one drank what water I had. I noticed my dad looking at me as he whistled.

"I know some of my mutant clients have large appetites, but seeing my own daughter go to town on a burger like that makes me proud," he smiled. Friday, the idea of my test standing at the end of the week added a certain daunting conclusion to whatever was going to happen. For a moment I could feel my anxiety rear its ugly head again. I beat it down in the recesses of my mind. There wasn't time for me to be weighed down by the neuroses of my mind.

I hate mental illness.

"What about Róisín?" Sloan suggested out of the blue.

"What?" I asked curiously.

"Well, grandma Evelyn's middle name was Rose, be a nice way to honor her," she said.

I thought about it. Gráinne Róisín O Callaghan, it fit well, but I felt like there was something missing.

"Gráinne Róisín Ní Ceallacháin." I heard it as a whisper, and it sounded like a suggestion from a beloved friend. As I found myself deep in thought I said in my head, "Morgan?"

"Yes, my heart, I am here. Just weak. I can't speak much more, but since your considering a name...I thought I would toss my pence in the ring."

I smiled at her words.

"You like it?" my sister asked.

"Yes, I do! I was just reminded of something a friend told me once when I was researching Gaelic," I said.

"Oh?" my dad perked up. Like myself he had an evident love of his Irishness.

"What about Gráinne Róisín Ní Ceallacháin?" I suggested.

"That's a mouthful, but it sounds pretty," mom said.

"Ní Ceallacháin is the girly form of O'Callaghan in Gaelic," I giggled.

"Maybe stick with O'Callaghan in public, but I like that as a formal thing," dad mused.

"Yeah, I really don't need more fodder for the kids at school," I murmured.

That led to a moment of silence, John was busily tearing into his fries as Sloan was nibbling away at her own order. Honestly, the tension was a tad thick that mom leaned back and I could see the gears working in her head.

"Now that we have a name, and a date for your powers testing," she said. I could sense there was something ominous in there somewhere. "Maybe we should consider homeschooling or private school."

"Private school?" I asked and felt my voice break again as it was definitely rising in octave still.

"Your dad and I will be discussing it after we see the results of your tests," she said. Mom was the one I confided in when it came to how bullying was affecting me. My dad tried his best to suggest how to not let their jabs and insults get to me. Yet, the problem wasn't just words, it was physical. How do I tell my dad that someone punched me in the face for no reason? Or that the principle of the entire school seemed fixated on enforcing hats and hood rules rather than bullying.

"I'm not against the idea," I mumbled and asked selfishly, "Um do I get to see my presents?"

"I did buy you all those new clothes," dad pointed out.

"Yeah," I frowned a little bit, but I smiled bigger, "and thank you so much!"

"We did, however, get you one more present from your sister as well as us," I blinked for a moment.

"And I got you one too!" John said trying to get a word in edgewise.

I hadn't really noticed it, but dad did have a medium paper bag with him when we got here. Now, as I thought of it the bag appeared from underneath the table and he sat it atop a clear point in the middle. From within he pulled out two simple small boxes. One had John's clunky handwriting on it and I picked it up to get a better look. The box itself was rectangular, and likely held a piece of jewelry I only made this assumption because it was not nearly big enough to hold much other than maybe a watch. I read the small message John wrote to me:

Bro,

We've been friends for the longest time, and I've always got your back.

John.

It's hard to really not be emotional with all the mutant change level hormones filling my veins. Upon reading the small note I turned around and gave him a tearful high five. Sloan hugged me hard as I opened the small box by lifting its lid. Inside was a simple silver ring in the form of a braided Celtic knot. I tilted my head at it and lift it up to get a better look.

"I wasn't sure about your finger size so I tried to get a midline one," he said and shrugged, "I even had to stare at your fingers this last week."

"Oh god is that why you were acting so weird," I laughed at him.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly, "sorry about that."

"No problem, and thank you it's gorgeous," I said as I put it on my left ring finger. It felt right there, and as I flexed my hand to get a feel for the new ring. It was surprisingly non constricting. I was so happy about it I leaned my arm behind Sloan and mouthed "thank you" to John again.

"No problem it's beautiful," I said and giggled.

"Okay, now it's our turn," Sloan remarked as she picked up the larger box and shoved it into my hands. My little sister was a mix between finesse and impatient. Comparably, she was better in social circumstances and adapted easier to new ideas. Me, I fumbled in social interaction and change easily caused my anxiety to ratchet up.

The card sat atop it was black and on the front was a pentagram, as I saw it, I sent a curious glance to my little sister. All I got from her was a simple Cheshire smile and my mom was smirking at me. Dad meanwhile, well he was finishing off his fries.

"Don't look at me, I only helped with picking out part of the present, the rest is your mother and Sloan," he chuckled.

Giving them both an irritated look at neither giving me any idea I opened the card and read it.

Happy Birthday, from one Witch to Another.

I stared at my sister and started to giggle loudly. Instantly, I leaned in and gave her a hug before untying the silver ribbon tied in a bow around the box. Inside I found some black tissue paper inside and rolled my eyes as my sibling's theme continued onward. What I found inside pretty much left me speechless. Pushing my hand into the box I slowly lifted out a large packet wrapped in tissue paper. Once I unwrapped it I found a large AT&T new phone box, my eyes widened in shock. A new phone to replace my old flip?

"We thought that since you are getting older, and we've liked the new Gizmatic mobiles," my dad said, "you deserve one."

I stared at the box and pushed used my right fingernails to pull open the lid. My hands shook as I lifted the lid and reached in to pull out the smartphone and felt it's sleek black surface in my hand. Just as I pulled it free a small loop of black cord fell free and landed with a plunk on the tabletop. What the? Whatever it was it was shiny! Picking it up in my left hand, I let the string fall and watched as a small Celtic pentagram bounced on the end. I gazed intently at it as I noticed how it caught the light.

"So, the Pentagram is an emblem of safety," Sloan told me, and I nodded in agreement. I kind of knew what the little star meant, but I hadn't done as nearly as much research as my little sister. "A phone and a necklace, thank you so much," I gushed.

"We're not done yet," mom chuckled as I noticed movement just out of the periphery of my eye.

"HAPPY - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" three staff members wandered over all clapping. Everyone broke out laughing as they all clapped along to the three servers. A vivid red blush brushed my cheeks, I stared at the servers as they all sing along rapidly to the music. One was watching me with a weird glint in their eye, when their gaze met mine theirs nearly bulged on the spot and they quieted down as their jaw tightened. Did they figure out I was a mutant? Did my emerald eyes give me away?

"For you, birthday girl!" chimed a fourth server, a woman with long curly black hair as she set down a piece of chocolate cake and ice cream in front of me. Throughout the conversation tonight I had rapidly eaten what food I'd ordered. The ice cream sat beside none of the fries or the two hamburgers I ate. All of it was gone. Now seeing the source of sugar I could hear my stomach gurgle to announce it's still extant hunger. I began to wonder, would I always be this hungry or was I just like this because of my changing body? Everything had repercussions, perhaps this was what I was reaping. But, I couldn't let one little worry affect this entire night. Not now, in front of my family!

I blew out the small sparkling candle on top of the dessert and made my wish.

 

---

 

Chapter 5 - Two Steps Back

Afternoon, October 22nd, 2007 - Lummi Island

Monday and Tuesday I was out of school for one reason or another. Sunday ended so perfectly in my mind's eye I was completely unprepared for the agony that met me the next morning. My breaking voice should have been a red flag for the painful burning that would seize my throat for the next two days. Every time I tried to talk the pain would alight in the right and left of just below my tongue. Just as it started it would burst in my ears and cause me to yelp. That was even worse as my throat was so raw even my yelps were painful. I sucked on ice for hours as my mom made cool smoothies to drink. I'm not sure how many novocaine sprays I went through or how many lozenges. Mom was feeding me a mix of medications throughout the experience as well as protein shakes and a variety of substances. At one point she called the doctor's and after what sounded like a loud verbal argument got an answer of what to do. I was put on mostly water and liquid foods for the next two days. Each limb and extremity of my body ached as my muscles seemed to tear themselves apart and heal slowly. I could tell that my rabid hunger from Sunday had instantly been used by my body as my breasts increased a bit more and my areolas became more pronounced. Even my hair was growing rapidly as it was easily past my shoulders by Monday and Tuesday it was at the middle of my back.

Mom did her best to shear the brown portion off leaving the newly grown bright red locks in its place. I swear, I would go to a salon, but I had begged her to cut it off as the length was getting in the way as I tossed and turned in bed. I had to be getting close, and as my body shifted further to whatever Morgan was gifting me I felt a rush of anticipation. Once I was winnowed down to my new self what would the chaff reveal? Tuesday night as I could feel my throat pain lightening I gently tried to make a few sounds. I reached up to my throat and noted how smooth my neck was. I hadn't shaved in nearly a week, and already I could feel how my follicles shifted.

It still hurt to talk or make a sound, but rubbing my throat I distinctly felt a lack of an adam's apple. I smiled, I'd never had a prominent one to begin with, and yet this was a godsend to me. That meant that not only was my voice different, it was permanent. No more squeaks for me while I try to talk! 

Tuesday I mostly spent in bed once again wrapped in blankets and a towel. Not to keep me warm, but to absorb the profuse amount of sweating I was doing from all the strain put on my body. Every few hours, I would sit up and wrap myself up and try to get some water. It got to the point where I was so dizzy from the pain I nearly fainted from the movement. It was around early afternoon I found myself slowly walking toward the sink and this time my legs actually gave out. I hid the ground hard and cringed as I spent the next few minutes pulling myself up. Stupid bloody - I was not going to let this own me! Step by step I shoved the cup I was carrying under the faucet and turned on the water.

Later that night as I lay tossing and turning, I had one thought in my mind; I'm so dead at school tomorrow.

Afternoon, October 24th, 2007 - Ferndale High School

Out of the frying pan and right back into the fire was how I felt as I stepped off the bus that week. I had a hoodie pulled over my head to hide my face and I kept my eyes down the entire time. Once I got off though and I was back on school property I was promptly told by the new principal, Miss Fairchild, to pull it off. The hood's removal revealed the long bright red hair falling over my shoulders, and immediately I was stared at by two of the nearest students. Blushing bright red I went over to my locker in the main brick building of the school.

No one seemed to mind me at all as I retrieved my books for the day and worked them into my backpack. The usually heavy pack felt like nothing to me, and as I turned to leave, I felt someone's eyes right on me. Whipping around to look I caught sight of Brad Finkbonner walking away from me. A quick deep breath steadied me as I couldn't fathom what the hell he wanted. I had to get off to math and so I ran as fast as I could. My new body was definitely far more feminine. Just look at myself in the mirror that morning I easily passed for a girl and I could tell that whatever changes I had undergone were slowly coming to an end. Not since the weekend did my hips expand. My hair was still growing, and already mom was planning to have me visit a salon on Saturday.

Math was math as usual.

"Padraig O'Callaghan," I heard my former name and as I raised my hand the teacher marked me as present. I even said "Present" causing two of the kids by me to stare directly at me. One was staring at me in confusion before turning back to focus on their work. Most of the problems weren't too hard that period, and I was even able to finish most of my work for the daily assignment. Weird, I blinked at paper and quickly focused on a few problems to get a quick start on homework. Before I knew it, the bell rang and I was busily gathering my things for last class before lunch.

Lunch today was going to be a protein shake mom had blended for me before school, and a bunch of fruits as well as nuts and meat. Whatever changes I'd undergone mom was worried I was burning through too much of my body mass. I was able to dodge out of the way of a few of the kids as I strolled from the main building out the doors to the cafeteria. Already I was thinking of just finding a place to sit near my next class and eat my lunch. But as I was making my way out I caught a group of kids looking at me - their eyes squinting as they were trying to find something out.

Oh shit, had I been made?

I didn't want to be known as a mutant nor a transgirl that early!

A quick flash of brown hair and a worried face watching me caught my attention. I blinked just in time to see Sophia Jameson watching me before another crowd of teens brushed passed me. Afraid to head to the lunchroom I snuck back in through one of the deserted exists and made a beeline toward the closest boy's bathroom. Upon entering, I turned on the water and splashed a little bit on my face. My chest heaved as my heart started to beat faster and faster.

"Tick-tock, rider."

What the -hell-?!

There was nothing there, no one behind me and no one in any of the stalls. I sighed loudly and brushed my brow before I turned around to leave. Just as my foot set down on the floor, the door opened to reveal Brad Finkbonner. The boy's square jaw fell away as his eyes locked immediately on my chest and shot up to my face. My eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"I saw you raise your hand when they called Starfish's name," he said as his jaw went from hanging open to tightly shut.

"Yeah - um - I am Padraig," I said.

Feck! What was I going to do? I began to look around and as I began looking for a way to get past him my eyes darted around the room. He was standing in the hallway, the only way out, and even if I hid in one of the stalls he could probably kick them in. Thanks shitty school repair! A bang sounded as Brad heaved a loud breath and slammed his fist against the side of the wall.

"Not only were you some stupid fag lard ass, but you're a sissy mutant TOO?" he asked in disbelief.

"Uh - yeah." I said this and shrugged. I wasn't going to play into his hate mongering bullshit. My eyes narrowed as I noted an opening just past him. If I could just get close enough to him I could run past him.

"You going to run freak?" he growled.

"No, I thought we could talk and catch up on old times," I quipped. Bolting toward the door while Brad took another step I felt a punch to my gut as he caught me. Coughing at the punch I fell to my knees as I felt a hand grab my hair and pull it toward his legs.

"Trying to run fag?!" he sneered. I yelped at the pull of my hair and as I recovered I saw a flash of movement in the mirror. What the -hell-? I was brought back to my current predicament as he shoved my face against his crotch. Instantly, I felt my fear being overridden by pure focused rage. HOW DARE HE! Just as he press my face into his crotch I reared back my head and shoved it hard up into his genitals.

"NO ONE TOUCHES ME!" a terrifying loud primal scream erupted from my mouth.

Brad collapsed to the ground as I pushed myself away from him and grabbed my bag. Now as fear returned I kicked the door open causing it to slam against the wall. I heard Brad crying out in pain as well as "FUCKING FREAK! You'll PAY FOR THIS!"

I began to back away from the door as I tried to put as much distance between myself and Finkbonner as much as possible. Whipping around on my heel I nearly collided with a large body behind me.

"Watch it," someone snapped, and I glanced up to see another member of the school's varsity football team. Shit, not another one. I don't remember his name, but he was one of those kids my mom always joke was so huge because of drinking too much milk. His beefy fist slammed into his other open hand as he moved to grab me after hearing Brad's pained cries. I skipped back just out of reach and into the arms of another football player.

"What the fuck did you do to Brad little girl?" I heard above me as a pair of strong arms wrapped around and pulled me against a male body. I could feel his hips against mine and I nearly wretched on the spot. Why did these bastards have to travel in packs.

A minute later as I sat there struggling to break free the giant lumbered into the room and returned with a red faced Finkbonner leaning against him. I had nearly broken free from the one player holding me, and a second jumped in to help. My arms were held back as a sobbing Brad pulled himself together and leveled his gaze at me.

"You'll pay for what you did freak." He said slowly, his voice was surprisingly high and pained (well that part wasn't surprising).

"What do you want to do Brad? Lunch ends soon and the teachers will start patrolling around." I wasn't sure who said it, but I assumed it was the giant, Again, I wasn't paying attention to my captors, just on the notion of escape.

"I'd say we have some fun with the little sissy, but," Brad coughed loudly, "I think we should beat the shit out of him as a reminder. Maybe we can get her expelled too."

That caught my attention. So they weren't going to rape me? Thank the gods, but dammit I grunted as I heard the line about beating me to an inch of my life.

I didn't even get a moment to react as a hard punch connected with my cheekbone. A loud scream and a loud "HELP" came from my mouth. One of bastards holding me down shoved a hand over my mouth to muffle my screams. Two punches to my stomach and a kick to my legs sent me reeling in pain. Fighting hard to get free I was just about to when they shoved me into a wall and two more hits landed on my jaw. I tasted blood, and as I opened my eyes I felt a fist landing into my already tender stomach.

"You're lucky you aren't protected by your kind here freak," I heard Brad say, "Nearly the entire town thinks sins like you should be wiped out of existence."

Closing my eyes I began to slide against the wall as I let out a sob. How was I going to get away?! "Hold on lass, just hold on." Were the last words I heard before I opened my eyes and saw red.

Just After Lunch Bell, October 24th, 2007 - Ferndale High School

Sophia was already done with the day. If her cousins didn't go to the same damn school she would have begged her parents to send her to a private school. All day in and out the same group of girls slipped snide racist insults at her. Once, she'd been the cream of the crop of Ferndale, and even at the start of the year she was still quite popular. But, once it got out that she was a mutant, any and all social support started to disappear. It all began with something simple, she arrived at Cheer Squad practice one day to be informed by the female coach, Mrs. Randall, that she was being disqualified because of "unfair physical advantages".

Years of dealing with code switching, and dealing with whitesplaining and it was her -mutant- self that did her in. Well fuck that! At least her cousins Greg and Lacey had her back. Even after manifesting right before a major dance practice at the community center they still loved her. As an only child Sophia grew up in an affluent household among the upper crust of the reservation. Her father held an established position on the business council and everyone respected her mother's contribution to the Tribal community as well as her connections to the county.

But off the reservation she'd met problems left and right. Some of the kids she went to school with bordered on outright hateful in what they said about non-natives. Others still seemed to be so focused on their heritage and bloody quantity she was confused by it. Again though, unlike some families on the reservation her family didn't rely on yearly fishing jobs to make ends meet. Or steady jobs at the casino. Her dad was a businessman, and it showed in her clothes and even how she talked.

Out of the Tribal School she was just another Lummi girl among a small crowd going to the local High School. Immediately, she found herself at odds with some of the kids because she was invested in her people's history and language. Some of the kids didn't see a point in learning the Lummi Language like her, and the non-Native teens were confused to learn there was still a language to begin with.

After what little popularity she had was torn to shreds, Sophia was focused on getting through school and keeping her head down. The Cheerleaders did try a few times to bully her, but they were quickly put in their place with help from Sophia's cousins. Now, well now she had a book report to write and already she was lamenting having to read the Grapes of Wrath. Sighing in disgust she was surprised when she heard a loud scream for help coming further down the hallway. She'd just finished her lunch and was heading back to class.

"HELP!!" she heard. Picking up her pace Sophia stopped when she passed a trophy case. Why she stopped chilled her, and she had to do a doubletake to make sure she wasn't seeing things. At first glance she saw the reflection of a girl with long black straight hair, covered by a grey nondescript hoody. Second glance revealed that nothing was there. The girl picked up her pace and sped around a corner past a teacher.

"HEY NO RUNNING!" the teacher barked as she stopped and yelled back, "Mister Olmstadt, there's a fight!"

How she recognized the Orchestra teacher was beyond her, and as she glanced at the tall blonde man she noted the files in his right hand. Maybe a meeting or grading. A thought passed in her mind as she jabbed a finger toward the sound of a girl yelping in pain.

"Sir, I heard someone screaming for help, I think there's a fight happening!' she called.

He gave a simple nod as he followed after her, she was walking briskly and just as she turned another corner, she heard a primal scream of rage. Her eyes widened as she repeatedly picked up her pace to the point where she was almost running again. Just as she drew near to the tumble of bodies she watched as Brad Finkbonner and his tall friend were thrown into the lockers. Not shoved, thrown, he flew the fifteen feet across the hallway's width to collide into a block of lockers not far away. The bodies impact was loud enough that it rang through the entire hall.

The larger of the men trying to grab a hold of the now fully writhing girl was shoved hard enough to send him skidding across the floor twenty feet away. Both of the boys were breathing, but their bodies were barely moving. The last two remaining varsity team members seemed to make a split second call to back off from the girl. Just as they did the redhead let out another primal scream and kicked one of them hard enough to send him several feet away from her.

Sophia was amazed at how controlled the girl's rage was, it seemed to be focused on removing the threat of the four boys. That all changed as the girl's head snapped toward Finkbonner and she started padding toward him. A groan came from the boy as he watched the mutant redhead his eyes wide with terror. She wasn't sure what she should do, but as the girl neared him she raised her fist to punch him. Making a split second decision she rushed to intervene. This wasn't what the redhead needed and Sophia knew that any more injury to Brad would play the local authorities against the raging teen.

"Padraig stop!" she said remember the redheads name.

A pair of brilliant green eyes stared at her, the girl's chest heaving and Sophia could see the bruising around her face. The cracked split lips already slowly healing as the blood ceased. This girl had been put through the wringer and just wanted the boys to leave her alone, Sophia could easily sympathize. Sophia placed herself directly in front of the baseline to break Padraig's line of sight. Though the more that she looked at the newly manifested mutant, the more she felt that the name wasn't going to work.

"If you hurt him anymore the MCO won't care, they'll take you away," she warned.

Being the daughter of a mutant family did give her some foreknowledge of what the Mutant Commission Office's agents would do. There would likely be a cover up. I never trusted them, just like those BIA bastards! Sophia watched as Padraig slowly drew back her hand and punched the locker right by Brad's head. Her hand went through the metal and was cut up along the top. Another scream of pain, frustration, and anger pierced the air as she fell to her knees. Sophia embraced the crying mutant and began to hum under her breath.

I can't believe I went from being a Cheerleader to a social warrior. She sighed a little bit as Olmstadt checked on the boys and grabbed the last one remaining. Already Sophia could hear the shouts of other staff members and students down the hall mister Olmstadt waited with the remaining teen. Shit just hit the fan. Sophia stared at the scene before her before she closed her eyes to think. It was all about to get a lot more complicated

Late Afternoon, October 24th, 2007 - Ferndale High School

I was lucky it was Mr. Olmstadt and Sophia who found me. Anyone else would likely have just called the MCO and let them deal with me. I was sure that a Knight of Purity was likely to show up at any moment when Sophia hugged me, but instead campus security arrived (late as usual) and took me to the principal's office for punishment. Brad Finkbonner and his mooks were also gathered up in the sweep while I was dropped off in the waiting room outside the Principal's office. The wait it turned out would be a long one, and I was forced to just sit there for more than an hour. Sophia was let go after being inside the office for about an hour and all I could do was sit.

At least the chair was padded, and at least no one was allowed near me. Some kids tried to say something or even wave and before they could security shooed them away. Did I mention the high school security guards were armed? There were two of them, each armed with a taser, dressed in black slacks and button-down shirts with "SECURITY" emblazoned on their shoulder. Why our school even had security personnel was confusing to say the least. From what I understood, the security personnel, were added after the increase in public incidents faced by the Whatcom Alliance. In response the city of Ferndale hired a small corps of retired members of the County Sheriff to act as security.

So far all they'd done was drag me hard by my arm to the general office. The one who was staying by the door was a squat man, red faced, and cleanly shaven. He was fingering the taser looking at me and I could see his jaw working. I tried to shrink away further from the bastard as I could. The guard was more than six feet away, but his glare was slowly wearing it's way under my skin. After being beaten and attacked by baselines for no reason, I had no interest in getting my mutant ass assaulted, yet again. Already, the shock of the encounter was setting in, as I felt my hands starting to shake.

I was not going to be a victim, I'm not a victim!

I closed my eyes as the panic attack seized me in its claws and I shivered. Fear twisted in my gut as I wanted to wretch and had to hold myself back further and further. I placed my hands on my calves and squeezed hard. The feeling did give me a bit of focus and grounded me. With my eyes closed I began to remind myself. They have no power over me, they have no power over me. Like "water off a duck's back" it was a mantra my father taught me. It was meant to relieve me of any former hold of abuse a person held on me.

There was no way I wasn't up shit creek any farther than I could go. Not only did I attack another student, the bastard had three witnesses against me. Sophia could testify that she heard a help, but that wouldn't prove the assholes assaulted me. All that was on record was my berserk reaction to them being around me.

My eyes opened and I caught a look of disgust from the secretary as she was busily updating files for something on her desktop. Not a peep came out of my mouth since I arrived in this place, and even when I considered making a sound I remembered I didn't want to give them anymore ammunition.

The door to the office opened, and Mr. Olmstadt slowly filed out with other members of the faculty. Along with them came a woman wearing a khaki pant suit with long curly auburn hair. Her lips were painted red, and set in a just too garish smile. The woman's eyes were blue, and each nail was painted pink. Just looking at her gave me serious squick vibes, and to think this was the Principal of Ferndale High School. A woman who introduced herself not as "Miss Fairchild" but added a weird elongated emphasis to her name.

"Miss Faair-chiild." Goddess those words would haunt me to the end of days.

"Mister O'Callaghan, please stand," her rueful voice made me jump on the spot. I was on my feet, and already annoyed that the woman seemed intent on referring to me as male.

"Am I next?" I asked mournfully.

"Yes, I will hear your side of the story and then I will be informing you of what is happening," the woman stated. Her too red lips weren't pretty, but reminded me of knock-off cherry flavored candies.

The office itself was simple. Facing me as I entered was a rather large window covered by shades facing outward toward the entrance of the school. On the left was a framed picture of the city of Ferndale from above, and the opposite side featured a picture of the current football team. The woman's desk was clean of things except for a plaque stating her name, and a laptop computer closed and sitting before her seat. Miss Fairchild walked around the desk and sat down in her chair.

She pointed to a simple wooden-backed chair before the desk and I sat myself. For the next minute she opened up her computer and seemed to be reading something before reaching into a drawer of her desk. This was when she held up a thick file with my name on it and the words "Permanent Record". I gulped at seeing that file as I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to keep myself from shaking again.

Miss Fairchild placed the file down beside her laptop and audibly cleared her throat. What was her plan? I had no knowledge of this woman except her telling me to pull down my hood on my sweatshirt. Now, I was in front of a complete unknown. But, knowing Ferndale the town, and who sat on the board of education, she was not very likely my friend.

"Mister O'Callaghan, it has come to my attention that you have manifested as a mutant," she enunciated the words in a creepy fashion.

"Yes...I go by Gráinne now," I said.

"Sorry, but your file here says your name is Padraig, and legally that is how I will refer to you," she replied matter of factly.

"Oh-Okay," I nodded.

"Mister Finkbonner informed me that you were in the bathroom during lunch and shoved him into a stall," she stated.

"That's - not what happened," I answered.

"He said you were wanting to teach him a lesson for some minor mischief he'd committed," she said. As she continued, I could feel my anger wanting to burst out of me. A slight ringing sound filled my ears as I closed my eyes and breathed slowly.

"Are you okay Mister O'Callaghan," she asked me.

"Yes...I'm just recovering from what happened," I replied.

"I believe it's your turn to tell me your side of the story," she told me.

So I did. I began with how I was just washing my face after a small panic attack after heading to lunch, and then about how Brad had attacked me. It was painful to relive what I went through. Images of the experience flashed between my eyes resulting in me stuttering. I then admitted to headbutting his junk to get away and relayed how the other football players had pinned me down and beaten me.

"From what Miss Jameson told me you were able to throw a student fifteen feet which is corroborated by a statement by Mister Johnston."

That had to be one of the football players, and when she said his name she added that weird emphasis again. I was getting more and more weary by the moment, and as I finished my story I could tell something was coming my way.

"Your parents are on their way Mister O'Callaghan, and so is the MCO," she informed me. She picked up the file in her hands and placed it back in the drawer unseen from behind her desk. I gulped, what was I going to do, there was nothing I could do.

"You'll be waiting here until they arrive," she said as she stood and opened the door for me. All I could do was stand and slowly shuffle my way outside and await my doom.

Early Evening, October 24th, 2007 - Ferndale High School

An hour passed and I was still sitting in the bloody chair. More waiting for what felt like the end of my High School career. I could have just been a good little freak and taken my punishment. No, I had to stand up for myself and respond to an assault. This wasn't what the school wanted, and I could already tell they were going to just dump me to the wayside. For the last few years the precious Football team was working its way to gaining a second state championship. It was almost straight out of some twisted drama from the WB. I was sure I was going to offered up on a silver platter.

"Why are you so glum, sister?"

Morgan? What - now you talk to me?

"Yes, when you awoke my rage I was able to finalize the last part of our bond." That rush of energy I felt was her -rage-. She told me that her hosts had been murdered, my eyebrows knit for a moment. This took my mind off my assault and drove me to consider what else I could do. Brad had been light in my hands after I was able to get a hold, light enough for me to toss into the locker's across the hallway. That could mean a lot, but I had a sense I was pretty strong. Oh, gods, I could have really hurt those idiots!

"You understand, your rage was well placed, but your strength is not something to use without discipline."

I was so wrapped up in talking with Morgan I barely registered my mom arriving and giving me a hug. When the tears started to fall from my eyes I was still in my own little world. After a few moments of mom waving her hand in front of my eyes, I finally registered her presence. Through my sobs I was able to give her the gist of what happened, and I could feel her grip of me grow tighter. Mom was much like a bear, when her cubs were threatened she held nothing back to keep us safe. I looked up just as dad was walking in, and with him was someone I didn't recognize.

An older man, maybe about seventy, his hair was long, straight and blue black. Silver shot through his hair giving it a mesmerizing marbling effect. What I noticed though were his eyes, they were a kind brown and reminded me of Sophia. Was this man related to her? I watched him from over my mother's shoulder and observed the man further. His suit was moderately expensive, and his hair was held back by a simple headband.

"Hey kiddo," dad said and slowly gestured to the man with him, "this is Gerald Jameson, a member of the Lummi Business Council."

"Why is he here?" I asked slowly.

"My granddaughter told me of what she saw, and as a mutant I believe I am aware of what you may face." His voice was a light baritone and held a welcoming suredness to it. He had that slow twang of the reservation and immediately I felt a little bit better.

"Sophia found me...she helped me," I mumbled. More tears and more crying. It was really refreshing to be able to express myself.

"We'll take care of it baby," mom said, her face was a kind smile, but I could see the worry and the anger. Mom was already thinking of how she was going to make the school pay, I know because Sloan and I get our anger from her. Dad was busily chatting with Gerald and that left me kind of alone again. Sloan was likely at home or waiting with a friend. Mom and dad would not want her here to see what had happened. We were kind of sheltered compared to other kids, and I knew my parents did it with our best interest at heart.

I wish I had my sharp tongued sibling to back me up when I had to face the music, once again. I needed it now, I needed this stress begotten disquiet to leave me so I can prepare myself. Mom released me from her hug and I still felt wrong.

Even with the man my dad brought, I just wasn't sure if it was enough. Ferndale was only fifteen miles from Bellingham, but it was vastly more intolerant. There was obvious influence from the Goodkind family here from local donors to the Rotary Club to the fact no one ran against the local prosecutor for the past ten years.

Mom and dad returned to speaking with Mr. Jameson as I sat there alone. As the stress pushed me I started to sing under my breath to keep my focus. Off the top of my head I picked the Rock Road to Dublin, the rolling constantly fast lyrics gave me something to focus on. I was on the penultimate verse when I froze. A tall man was standing in the doorway he was bald, and was dressed in a dark three-piece suit. In his ear was one of those little ear-bud microphone pieces and as he strode in another man dressed much like him followed.

The secretary who barely acknowledged my existence waved to the two men leaning over the high counter of her desk.

"Agent Wilks and Johnston, Mutant Commission Office," I had dreaded hearing those words. They continued to talk in whispers with the secretary who then handed them a piece of paper. The tallest of the two, the bald guy, wore a pair of aviator glasses and took them off as his gaze swept the office. He noticed Jameson first, and across his face flashed annoyance before he settled his eyes on me. All I could do was stare back at him and shrink. My parents hadn’t liked the MCO for years, both being outspoken former hippies. What surprised me was mom didn't immediately step in front of the man as he made his way toward the office.

"I'll page her to let her know you are here, Agent," I heard the secretary say as a few moments later the door itself opened. Miss Fairchild beckoned everyone to enter, referring to me as "young mister O'Callaghan's". What followed was a clinical and biased account of what happened to me. I could hear where'd she pulled bits and details from my own account to combine them with Brads. It all spoke of the coverup I'd seen coming from miles away as I knew this woman had no scruples when it came to protecting her precious Football team.

Football was a religion in American small towns, and I was ready for a suspension.

"So, it is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that after consulting with the district we've decided to expel your son," she said with finality. Her hands were placed directly on my file as I sat across from her. The MCO agents were standing against one side of the wall as my parents stood behind me protectively. I was so caught up and keeping my eyes on them I didn't register the word "expel" right away.

"But," I started to say and a glance from Miss Fairchild silenced me.

"My daughter was defending herself," my mom growled.

"Not according to four witnesses to her throwing Brad Finkbonner across the hall," replied Miss Fairchild.

"You're not going to do anything to the boys? At all?" I piped up.

"All four boys have been suspended for a week for participating in a fight," her words only seemed to make me more anxious. Why was I getting expelled? I mean I kind of guessed it was because they deemed me a present danger because of my anger, but my attackers only got a suspension!

"Mister O'Callaghan," Fairchild stated to me, and I flinched at being referred to as male.

"Um yes?" I asked while peeking up at her.

"The MCO has been informed to her newly manifested mutant status, they wish to speak with you about what happened," was all she said before motioning for the Agents to speak. The taller of the two, bald-aviator man, pulled out what looked like a dictation device and set it down on the principal's desk. I kept an eye on the man beside him, both were armed and I'd noticed him fingering the latch to his holster the entire time he was in the office with me.

I eyed my parents for a moment, and bit my lip. Swirling my tongue over my teeth I wrung my hands together as once again I launched into describing my assault. Ten minutes later I was curling my body up in the chair as I brought my knees up to my chest and breathed slowly to calm my nerves. When he picked up the recorder to pocket it once again I finally got a good look at the security badge hanging from his lapel. The bald guy was Wilks, which meant, the fidgety one was Johnston.

"Keep aware." I heard Morgan's words whisper in my ear. My green eyes were focused on the two men as Wilks leaned in to whisper for a few moments with Johnston. This was becoming my normal life, my future being decided by adults who decided I had no say in what happened to me. I mean, I didn't have full rights until I was eighteen, but still. Even my parents told me when they made a decision and they even laid it out for me. Dad prided himself on providing the logic behind his decisions.

These two weren't doing that. Even the Principal waited hours before telling me she was going to kick me from school. Honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to continue going to school even if they only suspended me. Ferndale was shitty little town with few redeeming qualities to it. There were people who lived there that I adored, but I'd been tortured by the kids there for too long.

"Since she's attacked baselines we'll be directly involved rather than local police," Agent Wilks stated.

"Have the police been informed of the alleged assault?" I heard Jameson say suddenly.

"They surrendered jurisdiction to us, even the Sheriff has signed off on it." Wilks nodded to Johnston who reached under his suit jacket and removed a pretty official looking warrant. My father stepped aside as Mister Jameson walked over to intercept the piece of paper.

"This is a warrant for the girl's arrest stating all four boys are pressing charges," he said to me. His gaze was square in my eyes as I could only look away in fear. I felt little guilt in defending myself, but I suddenly began to feel a growing sense of terror. I was already scared the MCO was involved, but I had somehow held onto the ideal they would let the cops deal with it first.

"Your actions show you are a clear and present danger to those around you," Wilks added. The agent reached into his pocket and took out a pair of zip tie handcuffs. My eyes grew wide as mom started to cry, I could hear her trying to keep herself under control.

"Please stand and present your hands behind your back," I heard him say as the world started to lose focus. A tightness encased my chest. My life was over just before it began, and all because I stood up for myself.

 

---

 

Chapter 6 - The Road Gets Rockier

Morning, October 24th, 2007 - Ferndale Police Department

I thought I would never want a nice couch to sleep on or even just a shitty cot in the middle of a cabin back at summer camp. If one day I would be arrested for a crime I didn't commit I would tell my younger self to speak up more about my pain. About denying who I was and more about the bullying I was being put through. Perhaps if I said something my parents could have pulled me out of that hellhole. I held onto my knees as I awoke in a sweat and pulled them up to my chest. Sleep had barely been my friend as the changes continued. First, it was my collar bone, and then my ribs. Like molten magma, I swore I heard each of my bones creak.

My skull had been the worst as I felt one of the worst headaches I'd ever felt. Through it all I cried out for water and some food, nothing came. There were blisters from where those bastards zip-tied me still. They forced me into the cell and left me without anything to do. All I could hear was an argument from one of the deputies standing duty about some sort of fuss. How was I not in some scary fictional black site? As I stared at the blank cement wall of my cell I felt the increased weight of my hair and I growled at how long it was getting. Holding out a hand I noted how pale my skin was, and the number of freckles now scattered over my skin.

The cell was one of many which were made up of solid concrete walls fitted with steel bars. An electronic door for the holding cell was the only way out and as I sat on the bench I stared out. The walls were made of whitewashed brick walls. It was the same material they made my stupid high school out of and the same damn walls in middle school. Ferndale was obsessed with whitewash and it always made me feel like I was in an old-timey sanitarium. The only difference was sanitariums had beds, and wouldn't make me use the bathroom in public. What I learned from my few times using the simple toilet in the cell was I was pretty much a girl now.

A guard informed me that morning that the wait for processing was going to be over soon. Once they were ready to extradite me to the regional MCO offices in Seattle I'd be moving fast. This left me bereft of any hope I could muster. Fidgeting I stood as a guard appeared in full police blues and opened the door. He furrowed his brow at me, and I could tell the man was unsure how to proceed. All the police procedurals I grew up with usually placed the uniforms as faceless extras just saying a few lines. This man was the one who was going to hand me off to Wilks and his partner. They had a Warrant, and they already had me in holding.

Ferndale was happy to see a mutant menace silenced.

"Alright, this way please," he said and he indicated for me to follow. At first, I was unsure, and when he didn't ask me to present my hands for another zip tie I eased up a little. I held aloft my hands to show I wasn't a threat and he gestured for me to follow him. As I did, I noted how empty the holding cells were this morning. Whatever was happening, I was being kept in a place where I wasn't likely to be seen. Past another electronically locked door and I found myself in the station's bullpen. Several desks stood in front of me lined up so the local officers could do their work. Not far away was a small office where I guessed the chief was.

I just stood there as I saw agents Wilks and Barber waiting by the door of the office. Both were once again immaculately dressed in black suits straight out of Men In Black. Barber even had those weird little aviator glasses on his head this time, and both of their faces were set in impatient scowls. I heard a lot of yelling coming from the doorway as the uniform by me nudged me to move forward. I followed suit and walked past a series of cops all working at their terminals while filling out paperwork. Several gave me obvious looks of disgust, another gave me a small nod before I walked passed her in confusion. Wait, I thought all of Ferndale was against me?

Well, I mean not all of it. The rush of exaggeration was only made more real as the door opened and I once again saw Miss Fairchild. The woman was far from smiling now, and as I stared at her I could feel contempt flowing off of her. The woman's red-painted lips were smiling, none of her white teeth were showing through. Now we just had to wait for the Chief of Police to let us into his office, and decide if my extradition would continue onward. I had no idea if the man was a poignant racist like the two MCO Agents or a hidden one like Miss Fairchild. All I could hope for was just one chance.

Was it possible that not everyone in this dumb little town was an utter shit?

Please, Goddess, let it be damn true. I needed the respite, even if it was just for a little while.

Noon, October 24th, 2007 - Ferndale Police Department

Sophia hated getting up early on Saturdays and hated it, even more, to give up her weekend. Today wasn't any different, and as she worked her way to put on her best clothes for the day she remembered what her mother said when she awoke her daughter.

"Your Grandpa wants you to go with him to the Ferndale Police station," Corrine Jameson replied as she zipped into her daughter's room in a blink of an eye. As an energizer, Corinne was usually constantly in motion. As a member of the Alliance, she was usually the first on the scene and the first to give chase. Living with a speedster was not easy for Sophia, and being the daughter of one was far worse. It wasn't any easier since her parents divorced and Corinne changed their names. Really though, Sophia didn't mind being called Jameson-Langley, but her mom said it was too long. Whatever, after being woken up she rushed to get ready

She hated being up on Saturdays, but today was different; today was the day she would try to save another's life. Instead of her usual casual shirt and jeans, she grabbed a nice sweater dress to up the formality of her look. Makeup was easy today as she wanted to be minimalistic and to appear as conservative as possible. Her grandpa Gerald was down in the kitchen quickly preparing omelets for that morning. As she ate all she could think about was what was her grandfather going to do to save a fellow mutant.

Ferndale's School Board met in an emergency meeting the night before and finalized their decision to not only expel one Padraig O'Callaghan, but to add new so-called "no tolerance rules" aimed at mutants on campus. Right before falling asleep her grandfather gave her a copy of the minutes of the meeting which a friend of his on the board passed along. Scanning through it she noticed how thinly veiled racism of the rules were. What in particular caught her attention was one singular rule.

Students With Powers Who Use Any On School Campus Are To Be Suspended With Notice.

Hey, at least they'll suspend us and give us notice. I'd rather know I was suspended than being escorted off campus like a common idiot. Seriously, how are they getting away with this?!

The rate of actual mutants manifesting in the Ferndale School District was just slightly below the national average. Most were usually quietly removed from campus and shuttled to the facility just out of town set aside for remedial students and those just out of juvenile hall. Really, the school seemed to be bent on getting as many of the non-baselines out of its population as possible. Sophia herself was sure most if not all the teachers were happy to see her leave their class every day. Well, not all of them. Most in the music department didn't seem to care, and at least one of the female Physical Educators actually did try to keep the kids from teaming up on her during most of the team games.

If she hadn't been a cheerleader she was sure her classmates wouldn't have even noticed her.

But that all paled in comparison to what Padraig was facing.

Sophia finished her breakfast and was right behind her grandfather as he headed out the door.

"Dad I'll see you there, I'm going to head over to the Alliance Headquarters in Bellingham." Her mother was busily finishing up preparation before heading out to work. Corinne Jameson wore a grey skirt and blazer over a white blouse. Sophia admitted her mother had taste, and the office attire suited her.

"Okay sweetheart, send you a text if things go south," Gerald replied just as his daughter walked out the door. The sound of a car starting signaled her exit. After putting away the dishes from breakfast her grandfather grabbed his keys and ushered her out the door. The drive to Ferndale would only require a total of fifteen minutes, but it passed in total silence. Sophia eyed the briefcase sitting in the back seat of her grandpa's sedan. The young woman knew grandpa kept several documents on him at all times since he was a lawyer.

Is he going to free Padraig? The girl wondered as she started to think about the recent plans her grandfather was working on. Both mom and he spoke often about some kind of big change in the works. Her cousins had even said something about missing her when she moved. I'm not moving! Grandpa's house is huge and he's shown no interest in leaving his job on the Reservation! As she thought about it the more she wondered if it had something to do with her mom's divorce, and where her dad was. I know he's living somewhere off the reservation and working for the government. But, he's barely spoken to me in two years. Not since he and mom separated.

Whereas her mom's life as Swiftwing was known to her - her father's, on the other hand, was a near-complete unknown. He worked for the Games Commission with her grandfather's friend Rodrick. He always seemed busy with something, and after watching her parents argue for years as she grew up she figured it was the reason mom left him.

The thoughts of her father were pushed aside as soon as grandfather Gerald parked the car outside the police station. Like much of Ferndale, it was a squat little building that revealed a stark difference. To Sophia, Ferndale was a city that lived a dream of what it viewed itself to be: a large modern town - a true city. In reality, it was a small backwater town, made up of a patchwork of suburbs. A town just a step above small highway shopping district. The small squat building she saw in the police station really did emphasize just how the city really lacked that modern feeling other towns around it really had.

"You ready?" grandpa asked her and all Sophia did was give a gentle nod. Inside was a person she didn't know personally, but both of them shared a common bond. Both were social outcasts, and both had a keen dislike for the shitty little town they went to school in.

The entry hall to the police station really showed how the department was just an up jumped County Sheriff's office without the countywide level of jurisdiction. A small receptionist port fitted in the wall covered by a layer of clear glass. Gerald walked ahead of her as she came in her eyes staring mostly at her gizmatic smartphone. Busily texting with her cousins was one of the few ways she was attempting to keep a sense of serenity in the face of her classmate’s predicament. If they could do it to Padraig they could do it to her just as easily if not more so.

The uniform at the reception desk paged them in through the locked door leading the way further into the station. She walked directly behind her grandfather and earned a few odd looks from the uniforms and detectives present. She noticed the pantsuited form of Principle Fairchild as she came to stand beside her grandfather. Two men dressed in black suits were standing at rest beside the Principle as were who she guessed was Padraig's parents.

Sophia smiled at the redhead as the green-eyed mutant was sitting in a chair placed beside the door to the Chief's office. A tense moment of waiting began as a creaking inside the office itself. A few awkward minutes passed, and Sophia continued to text her cousin Lacey. The young woman was spending her early afternoon getting ready for a shopping trip to the Bellis Fair Mall and was listing off the various new clothes she wanted to buy for an upcoming school event. Probably a dance or something Sophia would have loved to go to before she became a social pariah.

Padraig was listlessly sitting in the chair without a single sound coming from the redhead. Sophia wanted to say something and slowly padded around her grandfather's back, drawing closer to the mutant who she easily figured was becoming a woman. I know a little bit about how things work, but I never met anyone who just turned into a girl. As soon as she was within whispering distance she cleared her throat to get the young mutant's attention. Even as the two were out of school for the day because of "special circumstance" she still could go back.

They had expelled the redhead.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," the redhead replied in a weird lilting accent.

"So...what should I call you?" Sophia decided to ask. One of her cousins down south on her mom's side was Two-Spirits so she had some idea of what she was seeing in the redhead.

"Grainne," she said the words slowly, "I always hated my dead name."

"Dead name?" Sophia asked curiously.

"Yeah... a term I picked up off some LGBT forums; it's the name I had before I became who I really am."

Sophia canted her head to the right to regard the finality of Grainne's words. She leaned forward and smiled at the redheaded girl and gained one in response. Whatever had occurred to Grainne, the girl looked like she was straight out of a fairytale. Her hair was bright red, and a smattering of freckles covered her face. If she kept up that weird lilting to her speech Sophia would guess she was from Ireland itself.

"So," she stressed the word as she found herself unsure how to continue their small talk. Truly, she wasn't the best at it and preferred gossip or an actual subject for conversation. The young native girl rolled on the balls of her feet as she fidgeted with something to say.

Just as she was about to finally figure it out, the door to the Chief's office opened.

Twelve Forty-Five PM, October 24th, 2007 - Ferndale Police Station

I took a deep breath as I waited for the plunge to begin. The door to the Chief's office opened and as it did I could be the stereotypical opaque pane of the door itself had the name "Chief Victor Larson", and I craned my head to watch as a man stepped from the door. The man who appeared wore a suit which seemed to be the prevailing formal dress for today, and I could see where he dyed his hair to keep the grey "under control". His jaw was a soft round chin, and his nose was a bit pronounced as he had deep wrinkles under each cheekbone.

I wasn't sure about the man; he seemed to be too close to Wilks in his make. His suit was grey or some kind of off-color brown which to me said he grabbed it at a closeout sale at the Men's Warehouse. Nope, this guy, I didn't like him from one look, and as he ushered everyone into the room I found myself surrounded. Once again in a chair right before a cluttered wooden desk, my supporters ringed the wall to my right and my mom stood right behind me. To my direct left was Miss Fairchild, a woman I wish would just get punted from my life.

"So, Agent Wilks, your warrant seems in order, why is Miss O'Callaghan still here?" the Chief asked impatiently breaking the already increasingly tense silence of the day. I squinted at him and tilted my head in confusion. The man was using the correct gender for me, and yet seemed to be cut from the same cloth as Miss Fairchild. This was...unsettling to say the least.

"-MISTER- O'Callaghan is to be transferred to our regional office in Seattle soon once some red tape is cleared up down south," Agent Wilks huffed in response.

I gaped for a moment and gripped the hand rest just enough to cause the wood to creak under the stress.

"Young lady if you break that chair I will see you personally pay for it," the Chief snapped at me upon hearing the sound.

"Yes - yes sir!" I squeaked.

"I'm surprised she hasn't tried to run, she's strong enough to throw a full-grown football player across fifteen feet," Agent Johnson muttered at Wilks’ side.

"THEY ATTACKED ME I WAS DEFENDING MYSELF!" I barked at the man as my anger rose further. My mom placed her hand on my shoulder and I quickly inhaled to calm myself. It barely worked.

"You will not raise your voice in my office young lady," the Chief held firm and didn't raise his voice as I had. "And you! Agent, I expect you to keep the commentary to yourself -unless- I ask you a question."

My eyes widened as I looked to Agent Johnson and me smiled slightly at his admonished expression. But, this still left me wanting to hear the answer as to why I really was here. I mean, did Gerald get his foot in the door and was he bringing a means to get me back to my family. Squaring my shoulders I crossed my arms and brought my legs up to my chest as I breathed slowly to calm the fear growing in place of my anger.

Finally, I relented and gave a nod and mumbled, "I'm sorry sir."

I noticed not a single word from Agent Johnson as Wilks appeared ready to proceed with my extradition down south. In his hands were the same warrant he'd flashed at the school last night, and I could see him firmly ready to cuff me again as his free hand was fidgeting.

So that was it, right? I didn't notice any movement by neither my parents nor Gerald. All three of them remained silent as I returned my gaze to Miss Fairchild who had that stupid smug smile on her lips. But whenever did she not have that smug grin? I think she injected botox into her cheeks to keep it in place. A rustling of papers broke the air of silence. Gerald took a moment and handed a series of papers toward the Chief of Police and then a signed order to Miss Fairchild. The man licked his lips and waited as the two began to skim through the contents of each document.

"You can't be serious," Miss Fairchild said.

"Oh, but Principle Fairchild, I am," he said, "I was very happy to speak with Mr. Olmstadt after you and he himself has noted a history of bullying on your campus."

"Every school has bullying problems, what does this have to do with anything?" she asked in response.

"What matters is both Mister Olmstadt and my own granddaughter noted they saw the four boys attacking a small girl," he continued before turning to the Chief of Police.

"If these records are correct, and I've seen a few of these myself in the past year," he said as he dropped two files showing the names of Brad Finkbonner and one of his cohorts.

"Your star players have drug problems," Gerald started to Miss Fairchild, "And at least three complaints about sexual harassment. None of which has resulted in charges."

"This is most definitely the lax rules of my predecessor," Miss Fairchild nodded, "I'll open an investigation this next week and see to it that we put in place better rules to protect our students.

"I'm just getting started," Gerald removed even more documentation and I chuckled as I could see a small bead of sweat appearing on Fairchild's formerly smug face. So this was how adults played hardball? Oh, goddess, this was making me feel a lot better about my future.

"You can't be serious!" Fairchild exclaimed as she read the last document handed to her, "You can't possibly pull every single Lummi student and funding from the BIA in a single day!"

There was a noticeably angry scowl now on both Wilks and Johnsons faces. Their precious little warrant was looking more and more defused by the moment. I uncurled my body and sat up straight as newfound confidence surged into my being. This was my chance, and I could see an argument forming and a knife twisting to get me out of trouble. But, I did wonder, why did this man want to help me so much?

"You should know by now Chief when I present an argument I never do it without corroborating evidence to back it up," he said seriously.

"How did you get the Tribal Council to back this move, Gerald?" Chief Larson inquired.

"I called them this morning and we held an impromptu meeting to vote in response to newfound racist policies by the Ferndale School Board," he said with a smirk.

"The School Board added that new rule about the usage of mutant powers," he added.

"It was completely necessary." Miss Fairchild was now being reduced to what my friends and I called a "Karen". An angry soccer mom who found a way to complain to the manager about a perceived slight.

"I don't dispute it," Gerald chuckled as he continued his argument, "But as you can see from the files here Chief the School Board hasn't shown any interest accommodating mutants on campus. Most if not all are left to be bullied and or bussed to the remedial school on the outskirts of town."

The Chief of Police pressed his hand to his forehead and inhaled deeply. It was obvious he was thinking of something, and for a moment he thought about it before saying to an intercom on his phone, "Sergeant is the County Prosecutor here?"

"Yes sir," came the reply over the speaker. A few moments later another suited man entered. This man was much calmer and he shook both Gerald's and the Chief's hand. For the next five minutes, the three men leaned over the desk as a lengthy discussion continued. I could see they were busily hashing something out. Miss Fairchild joined in and I could see the anger present in her face as her jaw twisted into a grimace. I glanced over my shoulder to look at Sophia and I let my thoughts wander for a moment.

"Fortune favors us this day." Morgan's voice caught my attention as I felt her presence in the back of my mind. "We must ride the waves of fate carefully my heart. If we do not, we will be consumed."

"Thanks, Morgan." I thought internally doing my best to not show any of my little conversations. I'm just trying to remain calm, and you have to drop that little number on me.

"I won't coddle you little Rose, you have so much potential, and you must gain the discipline to use it."

"I'm sorry Agent Wilks, but the charges for Miss O'Callaghan are going to be dropped," said a voice from the desk. I glanced up and shared a look with Sophia as I watched Wilks' face turn a vivid red.

"There's no way you can do such a thing!" the Agent balked at the pronouncement. Miss Fairchild looked like she'd just eaten a fly as she glowered at me.

"In fact, I can," the prosecutor said, "and tomorrow we'll be speaking to a judge about the issue in the county courthouse. You are free to attend."

"Mister and Missus O'Callaghan, we are releasing your child to you under your care, I don't believe I need to make it clear that we ask you to remain in the county and to bring her to the courthouse tomorrow morning?" the prosecutor said swiftly.

I gave a fast eager nod. Ah hell yeah I was going to be there! These adults just let me go and there was no way I was going to screw up my one chance to clear my name! Rising to my feet I was close to babbling out a thank you as Gerald turned to face my father. The County Prosecutor shook everyone's hand and stepped around me before taking my own and giving it a firm handshake. Something about the man seemed familiar as I turned and watched him slowly walk out the door. This left my family, Gerald, and Sophia along with Miss Fairchild. Both Wilks and Johnson were not looking happy at all.

"You strong-armed your way into this Jameson," Fairchild hissed venom at the old man. Gerald Jameson never lost a step as he guffawed loudly at the woman.

"I do what I needed to do when you did nothing but protect your beloved football team and cast your own charges to the wayside for a personal racist agenda," he cocked an eyebrow as he brushed past her. My parents gestured for me to follow and I soon found myself outside the office. A burden lifted from my shoulders and I turned to sob into my mother's embrace. I needed to let it all out as the fear, the rage and much more finally seized me.

"You're lucky Mister O'Callaghan," Miss Fairchild said turning her attention to me. I was busily still choking out a sob into my mother's arms when I heard her snide comment.

"I'm going to ask you one time, to never speak to my daughter again," my mother said very firmly.

"Why is that?" she asked carefully.

"Ah yes, Miss Fairchild one more thing," Gerald said as my father walked beside him.

"What is that Mister Jameson," she asked.

"We'll be seeing you in court soon, I'm preparing a class action suit against your school and you personally." The man said as he clapped my father's back before putting his briefcase back in order.

"You can't be serious!" she asked.

"Oh, we are," my father said as he adjusted his glasses, "you knowingly let four boys sexually assault my daughter. You are lucky I'm not pressing charges. We'll be calling you soon if Gerald thinks it's a good idea to settle."

My parents ushered me past the woman as I could barely contain my glee at her gaping fishlike expression.

 

---

 

Chapter 7 - A Drop O' The Pure

Early Afternoon, October 25th, Alliance Headquarters, North Bellingham

"I know you can run harder Sophie!" her mom snapped as the teenager sped along on the treadmill. Set to an incline of fifteen and a speed of six miles an hour they were testing her endurance. So far, she'd kept it up for close to an hour and, while drenched in sweat, she was definitely showing an increase compared to her pre-manifestation tests. Dressed in a black Calvin Klein sports bra and leggings her eyes were squarely on the screen in front of her. As she ran, she was watching the second Twilight movie and picking it apart.

"Mom, seriously, did you see what they named this guy?" she asked listing off the "history" of the Quileute people of La Push and the shifters. Corinne leaned against the Treadmill slowly tapping away on her phone and rolling her eyes. Why is it whites never get how we look. Picking apart the movie was just a fun way to kill time. It centered her mind and let her body go to work on the test at hand. Even as a kid she used critical thinking or just plain old sarcasm to center herself. Even if it was a made-up argument pulling apart another person's logic steadied her in a way few things could.

"Sigh, don't want to even try that," Corinne shrugged as she finished a message on her phone, "You know they told your second cousin, Lacey, she didn't look 'Native Enough' when she auditioned?"

"Yeah, we...we had to scream for a bit about that one." Sophia's long straight hair was pulled back into a pair of pigtails that shook with each step she took. About another ten minutes later her mom turned off the machine and she sat there breathing before chugging her third Powerade. Her body devoured electrolytes like no other, and as she felt the sheen of sweat on her body cooling her heated muscles she could tell another length of torture awaited her.

"So, you tested out at close to a few hundred pounds in the lift tests, so Jeff is rating you as an Exemplar One," Corinne picked up a clipboard hanging off the treadmill and added to the notes. Sophia climbed down from the treadmill to drink even more water set aside for her. Already, she was starting to vibrate with curiosity. Her stats so far weren't already started, and hearing she was only an Exemplar did lower her expectations.

At least she would outrun most of the football players for years to come. Sophia started to stretch for the next few moments while Corinne sent a text on her smartphone. While the two were absently focused on the minutiae of the day a door opened to the large gym and entered a member of the Whatcom Alliance. A tall Chinese-American by the name of Tyson Zhang. Upon his entry, Sophia's eyes shot over toward him as she noted his square jaw and lips. A small blush kissed her cheeks as she looked away.

Tyson or Bronze Wolf was a devisor with a strange flair for devises seemingly straight out of eighties anime. Combined with an outright love of steampunk from what Sophia could put together, he was fascinating to the teen. Tall and well-muscled, Tyson in his full bronze composite armor suit cut a figure straight out of ancient China. Not to mention his short black hair framed a long lanky athletic form.

"Hey Swift," he said, his attention turned to Sophia, "And hey Lil Wing."

To call her feeling just infatuation with Tyson was a simplification, no, this was full-blown puppy love. Or at least, that was what her mother would call it. The man padded across the padded floor of the gym and set down a weird brass colored box onto a cart sitting by the treadmill. One look at it told the teen it was likely a devise, one of the more complicated creations made by Tyson. The devise itself was square, about six inches wide, and perhaps two inches deep. On its surface was a digital screen while a series of tesla coil inspired wires ran along the edge of the screen itself.

Right out of the top (what Sophia guessed was the top) were two prongs. Each ended in a thick bulbous copper ball and was attached via a thickened iron rod. More wiring coiled around each rod and was soldered directly to the copper balls.

"What is that?" Sophia asked curiously, and she shot a glance to her mother who was once again texting on her phone. The speed of which was notably slow as both thumbs were visible as they moved with precision.

"It's my bi-corder," he said, indicating the two prongs.

"Wait, what?" Corinne looked up at him and furrowed her brow, "are you still trying to sneak around Paramount's Trademarks with Star Trek? Seriously Ty?"

"Hey, hey, it's not my fault they thought hand scanners had to start with tri, I'm just using a derivative name," he raised his hands in surrender before crossing them behind his head.

"Cornelius isn't going to have it if you get us sued, again," Sophia glanced at her mom over her shoulder before nearly moving closer to Tyson.

"Fine - fine," he chuckled before pushing a weird red button on the contraption and holding it up to Sophia's chest.

"What does that thing do?" she asked.

"It scans for Energizer and Esper ratings. Well mostly just Energizer," he said with a wave of his hand, "I tried Wizard, but the thing kept telling me I was pregnant.

"I'm neither, I've never shown either." She said, as she watched and her mother walked over toward her. The woman took a deep breath while she pocketed her phone. As the machine beeped Corinne lashed out three hard jabs right beside and one at full speed teasing her daughter.

"Dammit, mom! We already tested it!" she said complaining and even stamping her foot.

"Yeah, and your 'bi-corder' is shit, Zhang," Corinne chuckled as she rubbed her nose.

"Welp, back to the old drawing board, it can detect energy signatures at least," he pointed it at Corinne and the thing let out a loud goose-like squawk.

"Still a piece of shit," Corinne remarked and picked up the clipboard to add more notes. There was one last power to test, and that meant as Sophia watched her mother, that her grandfather was going to be the next proctor.

"Lil' Wing you should shower," Tyson said as he pointed at the locker room attached to the gym.

"Okay," she said as she stalked over to the locker rooms to get cleaned up.

Late Afternoon, October 25th, 2007 - Whatcom Alliance Headquarters, North Bellingham

Sophia ate an early dinner before the next portion of her power testing. She was completely alone in the kitchen of the Alliance Headquarters. It was a large professional sized kitchen put together by one of the founders of the Alliance. During the work hours of the Alliance, many of the members along with volunteers prepared food for the super team to make sure there was enough to feed everyone on the team. She eyed a pot of devisor coffee sitting in an urn near the fridge. Well, one of the fridges humming in the mostly stainless steel room.

She leaned against the counter, and let her mind wander for a short time. The sandwich was mostly turkey and had a light touch of vinegarette to it. Sophia, of course, added a slice of asiago and provolone to it to add that creamy texture she adored. Her exemplar metabolism would need the extra energy so it helped that another sandwich was waiting nearby. After ten minutes she wolfed down the food and drank some juice for the extra calories. She noted that there were, even more, turkey and ham sandwiches on a platter inside the fridge. A large sticky note simply read "EAT ME" and she obliged the rule of said note. The renewed energy from the food helped steady the dazed feeling from earlier.

Now I just have to learn how to wield essence. Great, just, easy. Self-doubt wasn't an unknown friend to her, and for years Sophia lived in the shadow of the Jameson Legacy. First, Ravenwing, the shaman hero who helped keep the peace during the late 1960s to 1970s. Her mother took up the mantle after her father founded the Alliance and named herself SwiftWing. Both were well regarded in the community both on the reservation and off. The work done against crime along the border, and people causing trouble in the San Juans was enough to build a decent reputation.

Too bad her father was just a baseline. Bet he's laughing it up right now. She didn't remember much of her dad, just his rough squared face, and his short cut hair. The suits and dress shirts he wore on his ever-present work schedule. Bouncing from one project to another he was barely ever there at home. She squeezed the wrapped she’d torn off the second sandwich as she gritted her teeth after her father sent her a letter after she manifested. He didn't say I was a freak, but he did say I was a disappointment. He never liked grandpa nor respected mom's work. Her anger roiled for a bit longer before she grabbed the remains of her meal and tossed it in the garbage, minus the cup of juice in the sink to be washed.

I'll do it after testing.

Stalking out of the kitchen she found herself in the main hallway leading from the massive entry hall and museum of the Alliance to the offices dedicated to the team's support staff. The Alliance from what she knew didn't just fight crime and deal with the presence of gangs and organized crime. They also focused on charity and outreach across the county with many of their programs aimed at helping the less fortunate.

Sophia strolled down the main hall along the grey carpeted floor and passed newspaper clippings framed on the wall. Each story she pieced together from fireside tales by her grandfather or her mom's frequent lessons. She rubbed her hands together as her sneakers dragged on the ground. Grandpa told her to meet him in the study at the far end of the hall. So she did what he asked. Down the hall along with two sets of stairs running straight, she found herself in a small library room. The door was open and as she pushed it aside to get a better look she was met by a twenty-foot square room.

Each wall of the room was lined by six-foot-high shelves of books. In the room's center sat a simple round table. A small fridge hummed by the table likely containing what Sophia guessed were ingredients for spells. Besides the right of the table from her entry was a reading stand straight out of a wizard's tower from one of her preferred fantasy books. On the stand was a leatherbound book filled with strange hieroglyphs she couldn't make out. Standing over said stand dressed in a blue sweater and black carpenter jeans was her grandfather.

His silver and black hair was held back by a red headband. Sophia walked inside as soon as he gestured for her to come. Drawing closer gave her a better view of the book and she noticed the pictograph nature of the writing. It looked like something she'd seen in a textbook when her social studies class covered pre-Columbian Americas. Grandpa Gerald closed the book and turned to face her after a moment.

"Now we are going to do one simple test," he said quietly and lifted a bag hiding behind the mini-fridge. Inside he pulled out a small length of cedar which she instantly identified by the smell of freshly cut wood. Grandpa set it down on the table just as he pulled out a small glass votive candle about five inches long from the bag as well. Now, standing he inhaled deeply as he held his right hand and focused his eyes on the candle. After three seconds the candle burst to life as a small flame came into being on the wick.

"I'm gonna light a candle," she asked confused at his test.

"No...we're going to steal it's light," he said with a smile. His hands set down flat on the table before he held out his hand and his mouth moved silently. She tried to pick out what he was saying, but from what she could tell it wasn't English.After three seconds, the light of the candle began to dim as the flame seemed to have decreased to the point where barely a small spark remained. Her grandfather held up the cedarwood and she noticed that the end of it seemed to be glowing like the embers of a low burning wick.

"Like Raven, I can steal the flame, using my essence to draw the light to this wood," he smiled.

"Now, I’m going to have you conduct a simple ritual. If it works, you should be able to at least cause the light to dim," he smiled at her.

"You mean light my well?" she asked in response.

"Yes, you have been paying attention during our tutoring sessions from last summer," he smiled. She could see the growing mirth in his eyes, and how proud her grandfather was to have a proper apprentice.

"So what are we going to do?" she asked slowly. Her grandfather began removing more items from his bag. This time instead of a simple length of cedar wood he set down a wooden box. The box itself was a steam box often used by her ancestors to cook items. She noted he also had a small raven wing likely taken years ago carefully preserved. Once all of his items were arranged he inhaled once again.

"I am going to invest an amount of essence which is why we are doing this when I can rest for the next few days," he explained. It made sense, her grandfather was an accomplished wizard, but he still didn't have the energy he used to. She watched as he looked skyward and she finally noticed the skylight placed right above the table. The final rays of the day's sun were slowly lighting the room.

Her grandfather drummed a simple beat upon the edge of the table as he picked up the preserved raven wing. The wing moved in and out in his hand recreating the motion of it flapping. As he tapped out the beat he began to sing under his breath. Her grasp of straits Saanich was limited, but as she picked up bits and pieces of Lummi in his speech she could piece it together.

"Beloved teacher, and stealer of the sun."

She heard the name mink invoked at one point, and as her grandfather finished his song he did one final wave of the wing in front of her face. At the very last passage, she felt strange vertigo overtake her. It was like the entire room shifted six feet right, as the sunlight above fell away into darkness. FIve minutes later Sophia Jameson steadied herself as she noted the wry grin on her grandfather's face.

"What just happened?" she asked confused by it all.

"I asked the tricksters to take a shard of the sun, and to light the well of essence within you," he replied.

A few minutes later he set down his raven wing and picked up the stick of cedar again. After another deep breath to center himself he handed it to Sophia. The young woman looked at the partially burnt end of the wood and remained quiet. He's now going to test my ability. If I do this right. The ritual itself was simple as her grandfather related it to her. All she must do is a sing of how Raven stole the light from a secretive old man. Saanich wasn't really her forte, and years of attending classes after school and tutoring sessions left her pronunciation a bit - sloppy.

Grandpa relit the candle and motioned for her to begin.

"Concentrate Lil' Wing," he intoned, as he tapped out the beat to the song. She set her mind on the candle and as she sang she mentally imagined herself drawing the light away from the candle. As if a strange ethereal tether yanked on the vision of the light before her she felt a strange tugging sensation along her arm causing it to twitch with the cedar stick in her hand. A moment later the candle flickered - it seemed to dim for just a moment and returned to full burn.

"Not bad, Lil' Wing." She set down the cedar stick and wiped her brow. She felt exhausted after the ritual and after her attempt. Each and every test pushed her to the brink. The teen eyed her grandfather as he was writing down a series of notes onto a pad from what she guessed was his bag. She used the edge of the table to steady herself while he finished. Whatever he wrote, her grandfather finished his notes by signing his name at the base of the notepad. Sophia couldn't make out any of the words on the notepad. When are they going to give me my MID? She tilted her head and sighed. After spending the entire afternoon doing her initial powers testing she just wanted to go home and rest for a test the next day.

"Grandpa, are we done?" she asked, a slight whine in her voice.

"Yup, Lil' Wing everything is done," he chuckled and rose from his seat. Before saying another word he gathered up the items on the table and snuffed out the candle. The stick was carefully doused with a bit of water from a bottle from the bag and finally, it was all stored back therein.

Evening, October 24th, 2007 - South Seattle

A cool Seattle night was the telltale sign that winter was overtaking fall hard. Most started to layer up as fall went from the gently cooling nights to the harsh rains of winter storms. That Thursday night was like no other. Out from Elliot Bay rolled a hard storm chasing the dregs of the fallen leaves for the night. A singular woman walked along the sodden pavement past a tree rapidly shedding its own leaves. Her heels clomped across the sidewalk as she stopped in front of a door set below a dying neon sign reading "OPEN". She clutched the coat she wore and the hood over her head together around her small frame. A pair of jeans hugged her hips and as she walked in their tightness caught the eyes of the bartender therein.

Finnegan's, that was the name of the bar she ventured into. Like every place in Ireland, it tried to be the bar that was small and cramped. Bench seats lined the walls matched to small tables. One small little rectangle that sat perhaps up to thirty people at once, built into an old building just blocks away from the waterfront. How the place stayed in business was a tad strange to anyone, but the regulars. The girl ignored everything around her and strode directly for the bar. Her hands reached into a purse hanging at her side and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.

"Start, a tab, and pour me three fingers, of the Islay you have," she pointed to a bottle on a glass shelf two levels up and the man retrieved it. The amber liquid poured smoothly into the glass, and she picked it up in a pair of delicate hands. Each of her nails ended in a pointed black painted point. Even her lips were dark red as she gently sipped from the shot glass. After perhaps a few more small sips she let out a calming breath of satisfaction.

"Not bad, for Scottish shite," she placed both hands on the table and gestured for another double. Three more fingers of Islay-based whisky put a bit of burning in her throat. It made her feel alive to experience that sensation, and after a second shot, she was already feeling a little buzzed. Shifting in her seat she pulled back the hood of her coat to release the thick brown curls bunched up underneath.

"Hey dun get snappy wit me," the bartender growled before pouring her a third shot, "My family is from Iona."

"Well, I shall have ta thank ye fer passable Whisky," she retorted. She slammed her hand on the bartop before downing the contents of the glass in a single go. She leaned forward letting her lips pull back into a garish smirk.

"Whatever," the bartender sighed before going to tend to another customer. The woman barely noticed the sudden presence that sat down beside her. To any onlooker, he'd appear just another bedraggled drunkard coming in from the cold and rain. What few would notice was how deliberate he chose his seat and how easily he slid in to sit beside the woman. The newcomer's features were average and easy to forget. A pair of brown eyes on an oval face with a rounded male chin. A sharp nose and slightly overly large ears. The man-made a motion for a beer.

"Took ye long enough," the woman said without even acknowledging his arrival.

"Oh Bess, ye wound me," the man said and placed both hands over his heart to emphasize his sarcasm. He was dressed like an old fashioned dockworker, a black turtleneck and heavy-duty jeans. His head was covered by a leather Irish cap.

"Why are ye here lad," she asked as she sipped what she counted as her fourth drink.

"Tone be wantin' a report. Ye kilt the Fianna bitch, and yet somehow...we have no proof of the rider's oblivion," he smiled and said to her. His beer came and the man sipped at the stout given without a second thought.

"Yer boss can wait, I burnt up most of my essence finding the new ridden," she gritted her teeth and motioned for another double.

"Good thing I'll be bringing a reliquary to yer hands soon." The man's demeanor didn't change at all as their conversation progressed.

"Oh, good, very good. Shall get shite crackin," her sarcasm was evident.

"What, can ye not do it ol' Bess?" he asked while turning to face her. The woman's pale features set into a neutral expression to cover her emotions.

"I can do the job, just like I made Sinnead's heart explode for fun," she whispered.

"Yer getting sloppy," he remarked after a long draught of the beer, "If I weren't already buzzed I'd be guessin' yer desperate to please the boss. Ye did fuck up the job in Navarre last year."

"Assassinating a key section lead for MI6 ain't easy, especially if ye dun wants any of it getting back ta me, or the boss," she said. This time she set aside the drink.

"Tone's losin’' his patience Bess. Ye already know he's got back up planned, and he'll use it if ye fail this again," he said and opened his jacket to reveal a silencer capped handgun.

"Old way I see? Not since the Fenians, did we kill our own for a little mistake," she chuckled uneasily.

"Ye didn't just fuck it up Bess, ye killed the wrong woman. That set some capes on us and alerted our old friends in Galway. Tone's name came up, and the Fianna now are on his trail."

It wasn't a revelation to the woman, and Bess had lived long enough to piece together the actions of Wolftone since she'd first contracted for the man. The man, her handler, was about halfway into his beer before he passed a small folder of information to her. She took it as the man motioned and she saw the bartender flip a switch from under the bar and the little light on the security camera above went dead.

In the criminal underworld, she knew that in a world of capes and villains it was smart to stay under the radar. Her work for the True Fenians had resulted in lucrative opportunities. She fingered the edge of the folder before licking her index finger and thumb to flip it open. Inside was an image of a woman with brilliant auburn hair, and stark blue eyes. A flash of memory came to her immediately and she noted the similarity to the woman and her previous hit.

"Sinnead's little sister be wantin' her sister's killer. This is when she's scheduled to arrive." The man pointed at an itinerary on the second page of the folder.

"Good, I found the rider a few nights ago, and I almost had her." The news seemed to please her handler who handed a very small note card to her. A name and a bit of hair were likely stolen from a hotel room.

"Ye can scry from this right?" he asked as he scanned the pub briefly.

"Yeah, I can. I've already got a trace on the girl. I'll rile up a few to kill her." Her words only seemed to please the man for a moment.

"If ye can't kill her, take out Sinnead's sister. It'll delay the Fianna and the Republic. Boss will see you still of use after buggerin' up so badly here in yankland." He finished his beer and picked up the folder. He pressed a burner phone into her hand as he pretended to give her a hug. Bess' skinned crawled as the regular looking man pulled back to look at her. His eyes flickered with controlled malice and desire. Just as quietly as he came he slowly glided away from the stool and she watched him open the door. In a few moments he was gone, not a trace of his arrival except for the empty beer glass.

"Sa," the bartender said breaking the quiet.

"Sa, get me more whisky, four fingers this stime ye stingy bastard." Her words were a low order as the man rolled his eyes and poured the ornery woman another drink.

 

---

 

Chapter 8 - No Turning Back

Early Morning, October 25th, 2007 - Dreamscape

Dewdrops dusted the ground as I found myself standing in the open bogland of my deepest dreams. My feet were wrapped in a pair of archaic boots made out of cow-leather. They were held in place by straps woven over my lower legs in a cross-stitch form. Unlike the last time I visited my dreamscape, I didn't wear a pair of trousers. Instead, I wore a leine tunic, along beautifully woven wool tunic all the way to just below my knees. At my waist, a thick belt cinched around my thinned waist. Long red locks fell over my shoulders as I twirled in the slowly brightening day of my dream.

I was a girl fully, not just an idea, but deep down in the deepest part of my soul, I knew it to be true. At full speed, I sped across the uneven ground and felt my body being unearthly nimble. Of course, this was not the real world, I was easily altering the logic of my own realm. Fleet of the foot was the best way to describe how I felt as I darted across the ground and leaped from rock to rock when I came to the bogs themselves. The surface of the bog was almost the same as the moss and grass-covered land around. I nearly slipped at one point and it was there I saw the possible watery grave beneath.

It's hard to describe how I felt as my hair seemed to lift in the air as I went and felt the wind whistling in my ears. Finally, after one more jump, I landed near the crystal clear waters of Morgan's domain. The large standing stones still remained and circled the water. Near the ground, I could see a fire pit and a boiling iron kettle suspended over the flames. The air smelled of tea and I heard a rustling behind me. I turned around to face Morgan as she came into view. Unlike before she wasn't wearing a dress, and her hair wasn't flowing free like mine. As always she towered over me, her green eyes were half-closed as she licked her lips deep in concentration.

"Morgan?" I asked her as she walked past me and I saw how carefully she'd plaited her hair. It reminded me of pictures I'd seen in a Celtic goddess calendar. Her hair was braided and tightened on both sides leaving a long braid down the center of her head. Over both eyes were blue lines curving then under each eye and along her cheekbones. Both cheeks were covered in a blue spiral as I noticed more paint along her neck and her exposed arms. She wore a leather armor over her chest, and a pair of trousers on her legs. The armor looked to be studded with pieces of metal and as she began to check on the boiling water I noticed a sword hanging from a belt on her hip.

"Morgan, speak to me!" I snapped. Ever since the incident with the jail, she'd been quiet. Only a day and not a word from her and finally I meet her in the dream and she was different. I could feel a silent roiling emotion shifting as a miasma around her. My spirit was going to tell me what was going on or I would be without a thing to do.

"It is my fault Sinead is dead," were the words she said snapping her head to face me. The muscles of her body went taut like a leopard coiling to strike. I didn't take a step back or react. This was my spirit, my bonded companion, and I would not let fear hold me back again.

"Tell me why!" I declared and I stepped closer to her.

Morgan easily had two feet on me in her paranormal height, but as I drew closer, she looked so small to me. Her rage was so clear, but it wasn't directed at her enemies.

"Whoever killed her wanted me dead, and instead of dying with Sinead, I am still here!" she growled before falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around herself.

"I don't know how spirits die Morgan, but you can't blame yourself for whatever killed Sinead," I walked over toward her and I leaned against her back.

"I can't promise you won't die either." Her words were clear and for just a small second I feared whatever hunted for Sinead would come for me. Yet, as I leaned against Morgan's back a small thought came to me.

"I beat back and nearly killed my attackers, Morgan," I said slowly. "It was your strength and determination which helped me survive the night. It was you who helped me become the woman you see before you."

I felt her shift as she turned and her arms brought me to face her properly. A small stream of tears filled my spirit's eyes as she bit her lip and her chin tightened. Suddenly, as a flame lit on a kerosene lamp I could feel her anger burn away the chaff of the depression. Self-doubt was shoved aside for something rawer, and far sharper.

"Will you help me find her killer?" she asked me.

"I'm not sure I can do that right now," I replied. Her green eyes bore into me.

"I don't expect you too lass," her voice no longer.

If I ever expected to see the 'Morrígan' in her terrible beauty I could see it in her. Morgan's face contorted as she stepped away from me and drew a knife I'd missed on the opposite of her sword. She threw it at the spiral etched stone and the knife embedded itself. A low keen erupted from her throat as she slowly quieted herself.

"Okay," I replied stock still and confused by her display. This was more braveheart than I expected, but I was willing to roll with the punches.

"I'm going to find the despicable thing who murdered Sinead, and still threatens you." Her low voice sent a chill down my spine as I saw her eyes burning with rage.

Suddenly, an image flashed across my vision. A black-haired woman, her face cowled by a hood pulled tight around her head. The lower bottom of her face was all I saw was her mouth moving quietly speaking out an alien mantra. The mirror, I had seen her in the mirror when Brad assaulted me. Shaking I waved to get Morgan's attention, and as she finished her display she quieted. Lean forward she knelt before me and waited for me to explain.

"There was a woman in the mirror when I was attacked by Brad. I saw her for barely a second, but I was sure she was there," I relayed it all to Morgan. Her face got a look as her eyes stared off into space.

"That helps greatly my heart," she said to me and rose to her feet. Walking over to retrieve the dagger she sheathed it deftly. I just stood there, watching the display as I could feel her rage being linked to mine. The defiance to never let someone victimize me or her ever again.

"Morgan...I need to learn how to defend myself," I said. Not the berserk kicking and punching I did earlier to Finkbonner and his lackeys. No, I needed to learn how to use my newfound strength. As a girl, I knew I was a target for others, and I didn't want to feel as terrified as I did that day again.

"I can't promise no one will ever hurt you again lass," Morgan relented, "but, if you speak with your parents for the need for proper training I am sure they and this friend of theirs, Jameson, will know what to do."

"I understand." It was kind of all I could say. Morgan's arrival and my changes shifted my life radically, and while I was thankful for my new body I didn't want to think there weren't strings attached. The very raw emotion I witnessed from her told me that whoever killed her last host, she hadn't seen it coming. It terrified me to my bones.

"I can promise you my strength, my unrelenting defiance, and my support in the trials to come." Her words eased my worry and scattered my fear for now. She rose and offered me her hand. I took it in mine and we shook in agreement.

Early Morning, October 27th, 2007 - Whatcom Alliance Headquarters

When my parents told me that my Powers Test was going to be changed to Saturday I didn't imagine they'd wake me up at the ass crack of dawn to catch the five-forty AM ferry to the mainland. Mom had me dress in a pair of leggings and a tank top for the day. We'd gone bra and clothes shopping the day before on account of my slightly growing assets. Laying down in the back of the van my parents drove all I could do was try to sleep on the way to the Whatcom Alliance Headquarters. Friday was a day of self-care as after the clothes shopping mom took me home to rest for the night. Whatever changes had begun during my time in holding continued on till Saturday morning.

A glimmer of my dream with Morgan remained with me as I stared at the rolling hills and countryside of Whatcom County. Farms surrounded the reservation and as we sped past the new casino I began to think about my new life. After leaving the police department on Thursday I told mom I wasn't ever going back to that shithole of a school. No matter what Mister Jameson said, there was no way one little incident would fix the year of bullying they'd put me through. My middle school went out of its way to hire teachers who seemed bent on tossing me under the bus for minor problems, and it was only two good instructors back in elementary who saved whatever feelings I had for the Ferndale School District as a whole.

No, mom and dad were pretty evident that I was not going back, not after my sexual assault by fellow students. Mom went full rage mode and I could hear her growling death threats to the boys on our way home that evening. Dad as soon as I woke up after a nap that evening passed me a bit of whiskey in a shot glass.

"You need this Grainne," he said before I sipped the stuff. It made me cough with the burning flavor, but I sipped it and for a bit, it numbed out the stress of the day at least for a little while. I was no stranger to altered states of mind since the school district had pushed for me to be diagnosed as ADHD as a kid. Even as I watched the countryside rolling by from the window of the car it was hard for me to focus on what my parents said. Ritalin did little for me and the other pills we tried caused my chest to fill with agonizing pressure.

We tried everything and finally my parents kind of moved on. Thinking back on it, I realize now that a lot of my repressed feelings of who I was likely didn't manifest in the best way to those seeing me from the outside. I ran a hand through my long hair nervously and licked my lips. The drive to the Headquarters of the Alliance took about fifteen minutes, but it dragged for me.

The building was utilitarian in appearance. Three stories tall, and made out of brick and mortar. An exterior with regular windows every few feet. I could see the office in the small attached lobby. A larger steel building which I guessed was the training center loomed behind it. There was a ramp and a set of cemented stairs leading up to the lobby. Parking in a small parking lot adjacent to the lobby I stared at the simplicity of the building. A small area surrounded by tall softwood trees and wetland was where they built the place. Mom told me it was time to go and I stepped out of the door to feel the cool kiss of a late October morning.

The lobby itself was a smaller block one floor tall and perhaps, from what I surmised, was about forty feet wide. At the top read the words "The Whatcom Alliance". As I walked closer I saw more on the doors "Officially Supported by the United States Department of Paranormal Affairs". It felt nice to finally see the home of the people who helped me out of clutches of the MCO. The very thought of Wilks’ seething hateful eyes made me shiver. His visage was banished from my thoughts as I pushed aside the door and was the first to enter. The lobby was pretty general, a few seats and a wrap-around receptionist desk that looked to double as a dispatch office.

A woman was typing away in front of a large flat-screen monitor. My parents walked up to speak with her as I remained back towards the door. I was soon waved over as the woman handed my parents a small list of what I would be doing for the day. Shooting a glance at her and then to the parental units I felt my anxiety growing. I could only imagine what lay in store for me.

Noon, October 27th, 2007 - Whatcom Alliance Headquarters

If there was one saving grace about the tests, it was that they let me watch old episodes of Xena: Warrior Princess. Lucy Lawless’s figure was always something I dreamed of. A woman who was strong and sexy combined into one fantastic bundle of skill and knowledge. I was busy doing a lifting test as I was playing back one of my favorite episodes in the back of my head. I wasn't sure which one it was. Most of the Xena episodes were easy to run together, and I had to run through my memory to barely remember the name. My train of thought was completely distorted and it was only the immediate snap of Sophia's mother, Corinne which drew me back to reality.

"HEY LOOK!" she barked and pointed at how my hands were slipping.

"Listen!" I replied and Sophia who was hovering by her mother face palmed immediately.

"Okay, what?" Corinne eyed her daughter and Sophia mumbled, "It's a gamer thing."

"Fine - fine, just lift the damn bar," the Energizer ordered and so I did. Currently, she had set the deadlift at about two hundred pounds and I was easily pulling it up. My tester directed me to stop and she changed the weight again before I found myself lifting closer to four hundred pounds. Again, I was able to lift it upward, but I could feel strain setting into my muscles. I placed the bar down as Corinne jotted down a series of notes. I eyed Sophia who mouthed "I know your pain,'' to me. Another few weights moved on the barbell and I eyed Corinne. This was the moment in the Xena episodes she'd be doing one of her ululating cries and do a sky kick. Do you know the one with really obvious support harness and string work?

"This is boring, and barely a challenge." Morgan huffed in my mind's eye. We'd been communicating more during the day, and I could feel she was getting more in tune with me as her host. I felt an ethereal shift across my body as Corinne set the weights one more time and I reached forward. Sophia leaned forward and corrected my posture before I began to lift properly with my legs and not my back. I eyed the weights, it was about five hundred twenty-five pounds, and I was slowly able to push my limits. It took a few more tries, but finally I brought it up to chest level as I thrust my hips forward.

"Okay, that would rate you as an Exemplar Three," she said and looked up from the notes. From my short interactions with Corinne I liked her a lot. She reminded me a bit of Sophia in her outward snark and sarcasm. Since I came from a family of rage-induced Swedish Irish women it wasn't at all that difficult for me to understand. Sloan would have a field day with SwiftWing, and I was a little sad that we left her back at the house this time.

They had me repeat the process with a few different machines. First, I was asked to bench press a few hundred pounds and found I was about the same limit, if not a little bit closer to six hundred pounds. Second, Corinne had me run on a treadmill and steadily she increased the speed and the incline of the machine. By the end I worked up a healthy sweat and I could feel the newfound clarity my body gave me. Morgan was offering small commentary in the back of my mind.

"Not bad, this isn't any more difficult than the Defense Forces training Sinead went through."

It was interesting that a slumbering spirit did seem to absorb the memory of her hosts. Personally, I had no access so I had to hear it a second person from Morgan's point of view. No different than a friend relaying what they saw or heard someone else do.

An hour later they brought me into a weird little library room. A singular round table was situated in the middle of the room with a skylight above. Upon entering, I was asked to take off my shoes and I shrugged in response. Complying with their request wasn't hard since I had a few Asian cousins making this far from weird to me. I padded barefoot across the carpeted floor and watched as Sophia followed in after her grandfather. I was a little surprised to see him in his full RavenWIng costume including the body armor. Each piece of armor fit on his legs, chest and his arms. It was a light impact type I'd heard people comment about on a few forums I scanned when I first did a little research on superhero uniforms.

"Ah, good to see you, Miss O'Callaghan, I have a few documents for you and your parents," he declared cheerfully. Documents? And my eyes immediately shot to his infamous briefcase which he carried with him.

"Did you file the paperwork for her name change?" my mom asked. I blinked, a name change? That was a tad quick. He opened up and placed a copy of the court order including a court time next week. A lump formed in my throat as I saw the full name of "Gráinne Róisín O'Callaghan" on the document. Immediately, I grabbed both my parents in a tight hug as I felt a sob shudder through my body. Upon releasing them I gave Gerald a hug hard enough that he actually asked me politely to let go. Tears blurred my vision as I picked up the documentation and noted the court date on it.

"Next week? How?" I asked. I knew a little on courts, just enough from years of watching Law & Order in that judges didn't have open slots that easily on their dockets.

"We called in a favor with the Municipal Courthouse, and request we expedite your application," Gerald told us all.

"Judge MacDonald owed me for saving his son on an incident just out to sea years ago," said a new voice. I turned to face a man I had only heard of, but now was finally meeting, Cornelius Holbrook, the leader of the Whatcom Alliance. Cornelius was an aging black man with short hair, and a small mustache graced his upper lip. I could tell by the ripple of muscle underneath his shirt that this was a man dedicated to his craft, and a few scars poked out along his hands. He was dressed in a blue button-down collared shirt and a pair of black jeans.

"You're...OGUN!" I said as the man smiled at me, "Yes...or as I was in the 80s, Crown Justice."

This man was a living legend! There was manga in Japan based on his armored visage and I was now just feeling my internal geek starting to squee at his presence. I could see Sophia visibly rolled her eyes as my nerdom flared for all to see.

"Thank you mister Holbrook," my father said as he shook the man's hand. I could barely contain myself as I was asked a few questions by the man himself. Cornelius wanted to know more about my experience at the school and in between Gerald listed off his plans for a lawsuit. We finished about ten minutes later and pulled apart for a small lunch so I could regain my energy.

As I was leaving the small room Gerald asked me and Sophia to stay behind. He set down his briefcase and like what seemed to be a small amethyst gem onto the table. Instantly upon seeing the shiny purple thing, my attention was officially fixated on the spot. Did I mention purple was my favorite color? It was the color of royalty and empresses so, of course, I adored it.

"Gráinne," Gerald said and drew my attention back to his face. I peered at him as my hands fell to my hips and I cocked one to the right. Damn, I was getting feminine posture down!

"All I want you to do is hold the gem," he pointed to the Amethyst and I picked up the piece of quartz in my hand. A small pulling sensation flowed down from my arm up into my chest. I winced a little as the gem seemed to glow in the palm of my hand. There was a slightly painful sensation aching in my fingers.

"Fascinating," he gestured for me to put the gem down and I shuddered. A bit of myself felt like it was being pulled into that thing.

"It's a container of essence, you just stored some in it." I blinked for a moment as I started to wonder what the hell essence was. "Magic lass, it's the energy used in spells."

It was nice I had a magical spirit to explain everything. Just like a little fairy from one of my favorite games.

"Never compare me to that floating ball of irritation - again. Or I'll make you bald."

Okay, never refer to Morgan as Navi ever again.

Early Afternoon, October 27th, 2007 - Whatcom Alliance Headquarters

"By the Gods this is good," I exclaimed as I dug into a massive plate of corned beef and roasted potatoes. After working away for the last few hours I was already craving calories to return my lost energy. Not only had they tested my ability to collect essence there were the tests on a few motions to see my flexibility. Walking a balancing beam wasn't really that hard and having me run around a track to see my full-on sprinting speed just added to the soaking level of my clothes. After showering in a YMCA-styled women's locker roo`-m I was cleaned up and in a pair of jeans and a tank top. It felt nice to be out of my sports bra and back into my preferred boy shorts.

The food served at the Headquarters was better than passable and as I tore into the corned beef I was licking my fingers as a bit of juice came off one piece of meat. After my second plate, I was finally satisfied and gave an embarrassed smile to both of my parents. My dad was shaking his head as my mom said to him, "She'll eat us out of house and home."

We were seated at a small table located in the lounge of the building. Nearby through a pair of swinging restaurant doors was a professional-grade kitchen set up by a member of the Alliance. Across from me, my parents were busy talking about something with Gerald Jameson. Beside me sat Sophia who was enjoying a nice hot cup of peppermint tea which she informed me she needed to help "calm her nerves".

For myself, a cup of coffee, I needed the stuff to function on some levels and definitely with tons of cream in it. The normally bitter taste of coffee always made me feel sick to my stomach. Didn't help with that mess with the mind-controlling Starbucks coffee thanks to some asshole villain in Seattle earlier this year. This was cup number two and I could already tell my mom wasn’t pleased with the increase of my vivid hyperness. I wanted to jump to my feet and start singing loudly to anyone who saw me. The thought came to me about how well I could hold a tune? Did I have an increased lung capacity? More ideas raced through my mind as Gerald finished explaining something to my parents.

There was a lot going on I wasn't currently in on. Both mom and dad had been in long phone calls the day before. Not to mention there was that notary work my dad spent time going over before I woke up. I only even knew about it because of his papers left on our dining room table. What was going on? For a few seconds, I let my mind wander long enough to what I'd experienced. This was most definitely the first of perhaps more Powers Tests. Being a mutant required I have a Mutant ID and it was likely one of the reasons my parents were talking at length.

But that left the issue of my schooling. Were they thinking of homeschooling me? I mean, that would make some sense, and I could easily get training here with the Alliance in their HQ. What it didn't explain was what I swore was a brochure in my mom’s hands as we drove in that morning. It created only more questions for me to consider.

Sophia was clearly done eating and as she finished her last bite she sipped a bit more of her tea. Me, I downed the last of my coffee before using a napkin to dab my lips clean. It was nice to not wear any makeup today though I was definitely hyped for learning the ancient secrets of how women changed their skins. A moment later I was done with my food as well and pushed the plate aside. Satisfied and full, I couldn't eat another bite! My eyes wandered around the lounge and my eyes landed on a pinboard located near the entrance.

In my boredom, I decided to just see what was on the notice board in question. Off the top of my head, I was able to make out a piece of paper about someone offering lawn work. A small flier about a missing dog and a second flier about an upcoming event for a local performer. I couldn't read everything, but I was still able to make out the general wording if it was big enough. After what seemed like a minute I got up to get a better look at one particular notice that caught my attention. It reminded me of something I'd seen before and as I drew closer, I finally saw the wording.

What was the Whateley Academy? Reaching out I removed the tack holding the brochure in place and opened it up so I could read its contents. The front folded page of the brochure depicted a picture from someplace called the Presidential Mountains. The School itself was in New Hampshire. As I read further it was then I recognized it as the very same one my mom had been holding on the drive in that morning. I tacked the piece of paper back onto the pinboard before turning around and brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face. Why was my mom reading about a school all the way across the country in New England?

Were they planning on sending me to boarding school?

I guess I'd have to wait to find out as upon returning to the board I could see both my parents and Gerald Jameson were waiting. Gerald appeared to have a clipboard like the one Corinne Jameson had been writing notes on from earlier. There was also a small piece of paper clipped to the top of it.

"Ah, so," dad said as he gestured me to take a seat.

"Alright, honey," mom began as she glanced at my father for a moment.

"You aren't sending me back to Ferndale are you?" I asked slowly just wanting to break the ice. There was no way I was going back to that shithole school.

"No," mom replied with a slightly shocked expression on her face.

"Okay," I said and was about to ask before my father said, "We've been discussing it and decided to ask Gerald a bit about where his daughter studied for High School."

"Mom went to Bellingham, didn't she?" Sophia asked. That was what her mother told her roughly when she was younger, and it was where Corinne had met her father.

"No," Gerald said and Corinne walked through the door dressed in what appeared to work out gear. A pair of black leggings and a loose razor-back blue tank.

"Oh, we telling them about Whateley finally?" Corinne asked.

"Yup," Gerald sighed as he furrowed his brow at his daughter's lax question.

"Okay," Sophia said and beat me to the punch, "I can see you affording to send me to a boarding school. Thanks for sending me away by the way." The girl crossed her arms across her chest and turned her head to look away in defiance of the adults.

"Actually," my dad spoke up, "we can afford to send Gráinne to a school which your mother has told us specializes in preparing young mutants for their future."

"Wait what? An honest to goodness Xavier school?" I chirped as I sat on the edge of my seat. This wasn't sound so bad.

"Yes and no," Gerald added as he placed his hands on the table. "Whateley is important as it's neutral ground, a place where you two can learn how to control your powers, and also get above-average education."

"Neutral ground, what you are saying-" Sophia said and she stopped as her mom nodded.

"Villains and Superheros do not break the neutrality, it's a seriously safe place, safer than Ferndale and it’s more than equipped to help you with your rage problems," Corinne informed me. I wanted to look away as she reminded me of my issue, but instead, I inhaled slowly and maintained eye contact with her.

Anxiety would not rule me for this conversation. Well, not for now.

"Remember lass, they want to do this for your own good. Don't get angry, think about it from their shoes." Morgan my ever prominent Jiminy Cricket-styled conscience. "Don't compare me to a Disney cartoon bug, ever again." Who can also read my thoughts. I really need to remember that my body had two passengers now.

"Is it better than Ferndale?" I asked carefully.

"Yes, and no," Corinne replied. "If you stay on the good side of most of the faculty they'll have your back. But there are bullies, and so it's best to learn how to defend yourself."

That didn't help at all. I blinked sadly at the idea, but it did sound better than what I had experienced. Slowly, I straightened up in my seat as I bit my lip. What other options do I have? I could go to Bellingham High School and make my parents drive me every day till next year when I could earn my own license. Truth be told, I was terrified of being far away from my family, and not being near them. I was tight with my family on a surreal level. Throughout my recent change, my parents had been nothing but supportive. There was no lying, my change was adding more financial burdens to them and honestly, I wasn't sure what else lay in store for me.

I threw a kid into a locker and almost killed him. Let's be realistic, I can deadlift a few hundred pounds without too much effort. From what I saw I was most definitely a threat without training. More than enough superhero movies and anime taught me that. There was no way I was going to be the fool who didn't accept an offer for hard-won training from a mysterious sensei. At least I wouldn't have to sit forlornly under a waterfall so I could learn the true way of the warrior. Or least, I didn't think this 'boarding school' would be one of the few places.

So I was going the Harry Potter route minus the obvious child abuse. I could only hope my school headmaster wasn't an eccentric with a penchant for letting underage children fight horrors of the deep.

"How would you guys pay for something like this?" I asked slowly.

"Well, there goes your college fund," my dad smiled.

"Really?" I asked.

"No," mom said and gave my dad a mock slap on the shoulder, "We've been talking to Gerald about a possible scholarship, and according to Corinne there are work-study options on campus."

"Ah," I gave a small nod to affirm everything.

"I'm going there without a choice isn’t I," Sophia finally spoke up.

"Yes, most definitely." Corinne gave a cocky smile showing there was absolutely no arguing the point.

"Am I going to do work-study?" she asked innocently with her mother.

"No, but, I would suggest it, I did and helped build connections I'm using now," Corinne shrugged.

All the cards were on the table, and I was facing a tough no brainer situation. This was going to place me in the stereotypical role of the working student. Okay, not like my parents didn't make me work for things in the past. There were the yearly splitting and chopping of wood. Helping with church functions as I grew up. As the old saying goes - this wasn't going to be my first rodeo of hard work.

"I'll do it," I said, "what do I have to do to get in?"

"We'll need to get your name changed and then you'll need to pick a codename for your temporary MID," Gerald informed me and I gave a nod.

Picking a codename? Okay, that couldn't be too hard? I just had to make sure none of it has been trademarked, copywritten or you know, owned. I could do that. Just a little old fifteen years old me, picking the superhero name that would stick with me for the rest of my life. How hard could it be?

 

---

 

Chapter 9 - Gas On The Fire

Late Evening, October 28th, 2007 - Jameson Family Home

Corinne inhaled the last of her cigarette and doused the burning end in her ashtray. Usually, she would likely look for a bit of alcohol, but she was trying to set an example. The last two nights hadn't been easy. Balancing an angry teenager with a former husband who liked to throw temper tantrums wasn't easy. Miss Jameson usually only opened her preferred personally rolled pack of cigs only when she really needed them. It wasn't too shabby that her friend at a local smoke shop also hooked her up with some high-quality tobacco now and then.

She was in her father's kitchen in the same home she'd grown up in. Weird, divorce your shitty husband and you move back in with dad. Some might laugh at her, but as a Superhero and a mom, Corinne didn't have much choice. The death of her mother three years after Sophia's birth exacerbated her father's mental health to a point of self-destruction. Entire new chapters of his life were made clear to her that it was her mother, Mara, who was the rock the old man needed. Now that she was a nearly full-time member of the Alliance her father retired and stayed on as a general council working with the Lummi Tribal government. He also provided a steady father figure for Sophia and kept her personal ass tick, Michael Langley, aka Sophia's sperm donor at bay.

That was until the bastard decided to call.

There was no real way to put into words how much a marriage could fall apart, but it's best said by how he spoke when she picked up the phone. She knew it was him, this time he'd used his unblocked telephone and likely his personal mobile too.

"What do you want Mike," her voice cracked with emotion.

"What's this about MY DAUGHTER attending that freak school you did?" his voice was a low feral growl. Luckily after years of verbal abuse at the man's hand, she was used to ignoring it.

"The school you so lovingly call the best football ground in Whatcom decided to nearly expel a girl like our daughter for defending herself," she barked in return.

"Sophia was doing fine at that school, she practically ruled Horizon Middle School," came the riposte.

"It was great until she manifested and like me was left by the wayside like any other token girl on the cheerleading team," she snapped in return.

"Well, it is good then that I was able to push a few of my contacts in the BIA and rattle some information for you then, toots." She heard him from the other end. Seriously, which misogynistic asshole still says toots. What am I a cigar girl in a speakeasy?

"There was an investigation on the campus of YOUR school, some poor Lakota kid died." The words at that point caught her attention and her jaw tightened. I mean. Kids can die, it's not like we're perfect. But, there is no way that... Her train of thought trailed off.

"Got anything to say for yourself?" he asked pushing the issue.

"One, I have full custody, two, if you call me again and scream into the phone again I'm filing a restraining order that widens the one I already have. Goodbye Mikey, stop calling!" she retorted before hanging up on him abruptly. Her hands tightened as she placed the phone down and thought about stomping her foot. Or maybe she'd go for a run and just scream!

No. Mom instincts kicked in as she brushed some hair from her face and rubbed the forming headache knotting up along her forehead. Nah, she had some calls to make. I could call someone from Seattle. They'd likely know more since the cities bigger and there's that huge MCO office down there. Thumbing her lips she scrolled through her contacts and noticed she'd added Claire Westbrook of the Seattle Squires last year. Oh, shit...her father was shot and I never said a thing! She tried to piece together what she remembered of Claire's family.

Hitting the call icon she waited as the ring continued.

"Hello?" came a feminine voice from the other end.

"Hey um Claire, its Corinne Jameson, I'm an old friend of your mother's," she said with a wince. There was a small pause on the other end.

"Oh...you worked with her on that case involving the Yakuza here in Seattle didn't you," Claire replied tensely.

"Yeah." She sighed and said, "I also testified against her husband since we both have experience with abusive pencil dicks."

The frankness of her words caused another pause. Why did I have to call her blood-father a pencil dick?

"That sounds pretty accurate," Claire said in a slightly clipped tone.

"First, I want to say I'm sorry I didn't call to offer condolences for your father's passing," she began, "and I hate to do this, but I need to ask you a few questions."

"Okay...and thank you." Another pause on the other side, "What would you like to know?"

Corinne let out a quiet slow breath to calm herself before heading straight into another difficult conversation. A bit of it panned out with that she was looking for, a murder on campus and a supposed 'chosen one' for the native people. What drew her attention the most was the murder accusations and her eyes narrowed. Whatever had been happening on campus was more worrisome than she'd contrived from the usual alumni newsletters.

"An entire club dedicated to things cute. Has Hartford reacted to that yet?" she asked steadily.

"No, seems they are letting it play itself out," Claire affirmed.

"Okay, a bit of this makes sense from what I've heard among some of my friends across the country about a new important Shaman. But, from what you tell me my daughter is facing some serious problems," and the conversation continued.

She informed Claire about the situation in the North and about the near seizure of a young woman by the MCO. The two spoke at length long enough Corinne ended the call by saying, "We should catch up soon. What about lunch sometime this next month?"

"That sounds nice, I could use someone to talk to. Oh, and I'll let my sisters know your daughter might be rooming with them," Claire replied.

"I thought Anna was your only sister?" Corinne asked quizzically.

"My little sister Catherine just started Whateley, she was a little sheltered by our parents," came the quick reply.

"Ah well I will tell Sophia about this when she's awake tomorrow," Claire said. The two were able to say goodbye cordially before Claire hung up. Corinne rubbed her now throbbing head and considered lighting another cigarette. She eyed the clock and sighed at the time. I have to get Sophia up in under eight hours. They were going to be heading into the High School to fill out paperwork to remove her daughter and Sophia's records from the registrar. Corinne knew the O'Callaghans would be doing the same and so they considered helping each other on the manner.

What to do? She leaned against the counter of the island in the middle of her family's kitchen. Corinne braced herself as she leaned forward and considered once again lighting up another cigarette. No, not this time, she had to prepare for a long conversation with her daughter. And possibly some very uncomfortable questions.

She heard a creak. Her eyes shot to the doorway and she saw the shifting shadow as someone leaned back from the edge.

"Come out Lil' Wing, you know it's rude to eavesdrop," she said aloud. A moment later a pajama clothed Sophia rounded the corner where she'd hid.

"So how much did you hear?" Corinne asked pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Most of it, I didn't hear the part before Claire," she asked slowly, and added, "So you worked with the DPA? Seriously?"

"Yeah, I didn't want you to know about that part just yet, it's one of the reasons I left your dad," she sighed.

"Did dad hit you, mom?" Sophia asked slowly after a pregnant pause.

"Once...after he did that - that was when I took you here to Grandpa's," she replied.

"Wait...that was only two years ago....why did you stay with him?" Sophia asked.

"I did it because I didn't want to disrupt your life," she said quietly. Sophia ran over and hugged her mother around the waist.

"Thanks, Lil' Wing, I needed that." she stroked her daughter’s hair before saying, "So I guess we have a lot to talk about. You'll need to go to bed in a bit though so you get enough sleep."

"Okay mom," Sophia said with a smile.

Just Before Lunch, October 29th, 2007 - Ferndale High School

Okay, here we go. I said this to myself just as I tried to fathom what I was about to face. Again I'd awaken early to be ready only to find my body still too sore to move. After snapping open my eyes I nearly crawled upstairs to my mom making some hot soup for breakfast. I ate three large bowls of chicken noodle soup and after my body stopped aching I got dressed and we piled into the car. Just mom and me, Lynn O'Callaghan and her daughter, Gráinne. Curled up in the passenger seat I listened to my mom singing along to the Beatles as we drove to Ferndale High School.

I shivered just thinking about it as flashes of my attack came to me. I let out a mewling whine and mom immediately turned off the radio and gave me a worried look. Biting my lip I said, "I...I am starting to have nightmares about them."

Wow, I actually told her what was happening. I looked out the window as my mom quietly drove for a bit longer before placing her right hand on my own.

"Baby," she began, "I think we should talk with Gerald and see if there's a trauma therapist on campus."

"I don't need to see a shrink," I replied stiffly. I wasn't broken, I can get through this.

"Yeah, Babes, that's a load of bullshit," my mom told me.

Before we continue, I want to cover a few things about my family. My father is a vocational counselor, he's the one who the state asks to help people keep their job when their injured on the job. Worker's comp? All of that was handled by a man much like my father. He'd even gone on to get his Masters in Psychology, his second Masters Degree. Did I mention I come from a family of over-educated nerds? I wanted to fight my mom's words and I could feel tears slowly filling my eyes.

Was I really broken inside?

"I'll think about it mom," I said slowly, "the therapy for my ADHD didn't help at all."

"You know that's different," she replied, "and maybe your diagnosis wasn't right."

I blinked, wait what? Slowly, I turned my head to face my mom and I was going to ask her a question but just then we pulled into the school parking lot.

"We'll talk more about this in a bit, but think about it," she smiled before turning off the car.

"Okay," I sighed.

Trauma, was not a subject I wanted to face.

"I understand my heart." Morgan's voice whispered in my ear. "But your mam is right, we need to confront our pain. And learn how to not let it rule us."

I filed away the thought as I walked beside my mom down toward the main building. Ferndale High School's parking lot was north of the main auditorium and just past the cafeteria building. The bell rang for the first lunch of the day and a rush of students were already making their way from the various classrooms to head towards the cafeteria. As a bunch from the junior football team appeared out of the gym I tensed. They were a hundred feet away, but I could tell by how they all stood together and it helped one of them was tossing a football in the air.

Instantly a heat enveloped me as my hand clenched into a fist and I grit my teeth. More flashes as I let loose a low growl and only my mother's hand on my shoulder stayed me from running headlong into the boys.

"Gráinne," she soothed carefully, "I know you want to punch them. I want to burn this entire school for what they did. But we are here to cut ties, not cause more trouble."

My mom was right, I let out a loud snort and shook my head. This wasn't the time, and I could feel Morgan biting at the bit, but barely holding it together like myself. Okay, we just had to get in and out. I strolled by my mom's side and considered hiding behind my phone. Today I was wearing a pair of hip hugger jeans I'd snagged on our last shopping trip and a black hoodie with a rose-covered skull on the front. Yup, time to up this goth to full-on! I grinned to myself as I pushed a bit of my bright red hair out of my face.

Mom opened the door and as more kids flooded out I tried my best to stay with her. You see the problem you often face when trying to get to the office when the lunch bell rang was actually getting through the flood of teenagers. Ferndale kids didn't give two shits about people heading the wrong way in their opinion. I instantly lost my mom as three tall seniors nearly shoved me out of the way and only my strength kept them from shoving me over. One of them gave me a wide eyed stare as I returned it with an indifferent shrug.

"Girl works out," the tallest of the three said before deciding to ignore me and move on. I needed to get a better look at myself, but I knew more change had swept over me since my visit to the Whatcom Alliance. I decided to trudge forward and make my way to the office and hopefully meet up with my mother. Walking back into the doorway of the main building caused me to pause just on the lip of the interior.

As I drew closer to the inside I felt myself freeze. Dread swept over my shoulders and crawled over the skin of my back. Hugging my sides I closed my eyes as a large hand suddenly enveloped my right buttock and gave it a hard squeeze. I whipped around as a snarl erupted from my mouth to come face to face with the last person I wanted to see again. Brad Finkbonner, his arm in a sling and I could see the stitches from where'd I'd nearly ripped open his cheek. My eyes widened to the side of plates as he looked at me and I could see him lick his lips.

"Damn girl," he said in the best imitation of a player he could be.

"Are you new?" he asked. I raised an eyebrow at him as it was obvious that I hadn't changed that much, right? I mean my chest was a bit bigger and my ass was a bit rounder, but I wasn't that different looking from when he last assaulted me. Fear was pressing on my chest as I could feel whatever composure I had collapsing.

"No," I squeaked as I felt my resolve falling away.

"Wait......you're the freak." He said and I noticed that instantly he reached out and touched my cheek. I shrunk away from his touch and instantly my right hand shot out to steady myself against the locker. The problem was I hit it hard and winced as a bit of pain returned my klutziness in kind. I didn't notice I had dented the locker, but Brad did. His eyes remained wide as I swear I could see a bead of sweat drip along his forehead.

"You're lucky you little fag you're so damn pretty," he leaned over me as I pressed my back up against the locker and his hand found a placed just to the left of my head.

"I'm not a fag," I said in a small voice.

I was stronger than this shit. Hell, I had even stood up to him and yet, his very presence was making me feel weak. More flashes, my head being pushed into his crotch as he reached down to unzip his fly. He loomed over me and his free hand over my right breast and palmed it. I let out a muted screech as I heard a voice behind him. As his hand touched my breast my eyes closed tight and I heard him say, "Damn you are a nice piece of ass aren't you Callaghan."

Upon hearing the boorish chauvinist comment on my attributes I firmly punched my left hand against the locker. My right hand shot out and grabbed the collar of his shirt. In a fit of rage I lifted the boy completely off his feet or at least to what I could see and grit my teeth.

"YOU WILL NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN YOU FUCKING PERVERT," I growled through gritted teeth. I was going to break his jaw. There was also kicking him so hard I would render the shit pervert sterile.

I drew back my free hand and closed it into a fist ready to plow my full enhanced strength into his chest when I finally heard who was trying to get my attention. Dropping the little turd I backed away as my mom ran over and waved her hand in front of my face. I burst into tears upon seeing her and she embraced me on the spot.

"Brad Finkbonner, nice to meet you," my mom's voice was serious, "and it's great to see that you are as stupid as I thought you were."

"Wha - what?" he replied, "you're a freak of a kid assaulted me again."

He was stammering a lie and just as I was about to protest I heard my mom say it, "I saw what you did Brad. So did the School security feed.

Mom's hand jabbed out and pointed at the security camera peeking out from the corner of the ceiling and the wall just across from where he'd cornered me. Brad's face, that perfect chiseled jaw and angelic blue eyes, and did I mention his coiffed blonde hair? Yeah well, all of that turned ugly as his eyes widened and he got the look of a small child caught in their own lie.

"You're parents are going to love it that I have video evidence when Gerald Jameson includes them in the lawsuit we're filing against the school." My mom said each word firmly. "And you know what, I think this might even put you on the -sex offender registry-, you are eighteen aren't you? That means your little football future is now over."

The boy was gaping as my mom pulled me up and we began to walk away. At this point, mom was ushering me to the office so we could get done and get out of this hellhole. I walked along obediently in a daze by mom's side. We were soon inside of the office as my mom leaned across the counter while making a call.

"Good morning Gerry," her voice was saccharin as she spoke, "Yes, he tried to do it again. Can you get a court order to get the security feed of the school? You can? Good!"

My mom sat there as I closed my eyes. I found a seat a bit away from the secretary's desk and curled up to stare at my phone. An eternity passed as I heard someone enter, and I glanced up at the clock. An entire half-hour had passed, I scrolled through my phone's various apps and I tried to think straight. I wish I had brought my mp3 player with me, and that's when I realized I didn't have one. Sighing, I sat up as mom was quietly and concisely putting the secretary through her paces. Lynn O'Callaghan liked to always say that she didn't become a lawyer because she would use her mind for evil. Right there and then I started to see why.

"Oh, I'm not leaving until Gerald get's here, I don't trust you all," she smiled at the secretary. I considered looking into the music feature of my new phone, but I couldn't stop from just quietly watching mom work away on the poor secretary. It was weird, about five minutes later I found the silly internet browser and was busily reading through the headlines on the Seattle Times website. Nothing new was happening, a few new collars by the Seattle Supers, and a closing of the investigation into the death of a visiting Irish Professor. I scanned the article in question, and as I used my thumb to scroll through it I froze.

Sinead Maguire, Professor of Irish Language and Culture, that was her.

"That was my previous host. Someone killed her using...her shadow." Morgan's voice said to me. I felt a strange settling in my body and I figured it was my Spirit settling in my hallow. A few minutes later I shook my head as I heard Gerald's voice, and I realized he was here. Wow, I really was out of it.

"Who would have thought the school's security budget last year, because of the Overlord attack in Seattle, would play in our favor," the lawyer chuckled.

I had no interest at all in participating in the scene's playing out before me. I pulled my knees up to my chest as I shrank away when one of the faculty walked past me. Mom was now arguing with the School secretary and Gerald was happily watching the entire exchange. Honestly, I wanted out of school as fast as possible. I was starting to shake now as the flashes were becoming all the more real to me.

"Mom...are we - we almost done," I asked. After about a minute she walked over and took my hand in hers.

"You're cold," she brushed my face as I shivered, "Okay, we're getting some food into you."

I gave a slow nod as I closed my eyes, more of the memories. More tactile than before as I winced as mom drew close to me.

"Honey?" she asked me and I opened my eyes.

"Sorry, mom...I just keep feeling his hands," I trailed off.

"Okay honey, food and we'll talk," she said slowly.

Another nod, and another flinch. I wanted to get away from this place and as mom started to lead me out I heard her say, "Gerald can you take care of this?"

"Yeah Lynn, no problem, take care of your daughter."

The actual walk back to the car was a blur. I couldn't even focus at all as I shivered in place in my mom's car. The green Honda CRV made me feel safe as we drove away from the school. A few minutes later we were near the highway and pulling into the parking lot of a local grocery store. I smelled fried chicken as I followed after my mom inside. A few shakes of my head and reality joined me again.

"Wait, we at Haggen?" I asked.

"You really are out of it," she said after picking up a heavy bag that smelled of fried golden deliciousness. After a few more moments we were sitting in the seated area just after mom paid for lunch. An entire pound of jojos just for me, and two chicken breasts. The food helped me feel better as the warmth seemed to permeate my skin and ease the painful chill at bay. I felt like Harry Potter just after a dementor attack, and just as I exhaled a bit of steam from the fried hot potato logs I glanced around. There was no way those floating monstrosities were real too, right? I mean, I had a Celtic spirit inhabiting me and my new friend can use magic.

"No...dementors aren't real. But, boggarts are." I heard the words of my rider and I shook my head again. Great, so at least the closet dwelling monster was real. More flashes, the feeling of arms twisting around my torso as hands dug into the edge of my jeans. The jeans themselves being yanked down to reveal my new black boyshorts.

"Babes," mom waved her hand in front of my face again, "I lost you again. More flashes?"

I nodded a bit and immediately began ravenously devouring a chicken breast. The warmth seemed to keep the memories at bay for now as I wanted to just get some energy. I felt drained and the food was invigorating me. As I tried my hardest I was able to push the memories to the side as the ongoing panic attack threatening to erupt from my chest was kept at bay.

"Did you pull me out of Ferndale today?" I asked mom out of the blue.

"Yes, we're filing the paperwork to transfer you to Whateley this week," she told me. Another nod, and another affirmation that my previous life was over. Padraig was gone, and I had shed the false skin I once wore. The weight of my hair and the pressure of my bra reminded me of who I was now. I was Gráinne Róisín O'Callaghan, and as soon as we got my new name and my MID I would be moving forward in my life. Another step forward, and there was no way I was going to take two steps back.

Seven P.M, October 31st, 2007 - Ferndale Camp and Conference Center

There was no way she envisioned herself renting a car under an assumed name and driving to a small middle of nowhere location far north of Seattle. The way how cities and towns were so spaced out compared to Europe was maddening to Bess as her hand gripped the steering wheel. Dressed in a black hoodie and carpenter jeans, she was about to do something rash in hopes of provoking the newest rider of her target. Just a few days after meeting the average man she was unsure how to proceed. The other target was not scheduled to arrive for another week or more, so all she had to go on was what she picked up from scrying the new rider's position.

A place in the middle of nowhere, home to a half-way decent American Football team. Scrunching her nose as she parked, the woman heard the crunch of gravel as she parked. The Conference Center was alight that evening, the evening of All Hallow's Eve. And as she shut the rental's door she palmed one of the reliquaries delivered to her by her benefactors. This one was about the size of a small ball and shaped like a jeweled pendant. A sapphire gem blazed in the middle of the square metallic piece of jewelry. Essence throbbed inside of the vessel and as she made her way into the meeting hall she smiled. With the amount of essence in this one vessel, she would be able to set a few things in motion.

"I see we are all here," cried the speaker, a middle-aged man dressed in a pair of dress pants, tie, and a white collared shirt. She didn't bother to learn his name, but she knew he was the local shadow-leader of Humanity First in the region. That wasn't hard to figure out as the face of the organization's chapter was the one smiling and offering handshakes on the way in.

"Thanks for coming, I'm Robert Dickinson, we need to stick together," she heard as she pushed past him.

"You all know why we've called this meeting and we understand it's likely to mess up your Halloween plans," the speaker continued.

"But as you know a long-time member, and supporter of our cause, George Rufus Finkbonner, has brought to our attention a new dangerous threat right in our own backyard." Just as the man finished gathering the crowd's attention he went straight into firing them up for the evening.

"She attacked my son!" cried a woman.

"She threw mine into a locker!" said a man not far away from her.

This is perfect if I can weave a simple rage working I can get them to do much more than whine and cry about their troubles. Bess draped the pendant around her neck and reached into her pocket to withdraw a small knife. As she focused her mind she turned clockwise while quietly intoning the elements. Her mind focused on the necessary thoughts as she started to mouth a rhyme under her breath.

"It's taken considerable work, but our friends in Bellingham, and in the county Government have informed us that not only is this danger going Scott free, but she's getting legal documentation! Where once was a boy now stands a freak of nature!" he roared.

A cry of what Bess could only consider homophobic ranting roared to life as she could feel the essence in the reliquary burning away. Her eyes closed and she imagined a miasma spreading out from where she stood in the crowd. Bess grinned as she could feel the thoughts woven in just as she spoke the rhyme one more time.

"Tomorrow we'll confront the family and ask for an apology to the Finkbonners for the lies they are spreading about our football stars," the speaker continued.

"We'll make sure it gets on the news," yelled 

Her eyes closed as she could imagine the miasma spreading further. Bess slipped the knife back into the front pocket of her hoodie. This is too easy. I should ask for more of these reliquaries more often. The pendant was almost dead of the stored essence. Without even batting an eye Bess took a step back and slowly withdrew from the room.

"We'll need everyone there tomorrow!" the speaker wiped his brow again and drank more water. "Mister Finkbonner is asking for volunteers to come and help provide support as he tries to speak to his son’s attacker."

She smiled as she walked past a few rows. Her thoughts quickly caused her to lose interest in the speaker and his little plan.

"We should do more than that!" said a voice as she passed, "we should make an example of her and her freak family."

The words made her grin wider. Thanks, Tone, all I needed was the essence, and now my job is done. For now at least. Brushing past the man at the front door she fingered the keys to the car while everyone was entranced by the man at his little podium.

"Stupid feckin eedjit sheep," she giggled as she turned on her car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Late Morning, November 2nd, 2007 - Whatcom County

"All the evidence appears in order, and you agree you are not changing your name and gender for nefarious reasons?" the judge asked me. Who asks that? Seriously, I should just say, "Your honor I plan on mowing down an entire park of kittens and puppies right after this." But, luck was on my side because instead of being an impulsive idiot I spoke up and gave a simple, "Yes your honor."

It was the end of the week and days after my last encounter with Brad. Across those four days, I'd spent most of the time getting ready with my parents for my new school. There were supplies to buy as well as a handbook sent via express mail. It arrived Thursday morning and I was already overwhelmed by the amount of information. The idea of wearing a uniform was strange, to say the least. One of my friends, Raphael Griffan, attended the local Catholic Elementary School and his uniform didn't seem too bad to say the least. I was so caught up in thinking about uniforms and staring at the uniform requirements that I barely registered the people around me. My name was now legally Gráinne and my legal, as well as biological gender, was female.

Just as I walked out past the door I was suddenly blasted by a loud yell of, "There's the girl who attacked my boy"

Let me back up a bit here, I'm a five foot six, curvy, but lightly built girl. Mom is about two inches shorter than me and was a bit on the plump side. I was now shorter than the father I once matched height with, and while my hair did give me a nice presence there was no way I was that scary. However, just as I exited the courthouse, I came face to face with a blond-haired woman in her forties dressed in an expensive conform dress. Her ears bedecked with what I could only guess were diamond earrings.

I stopped immediately and my mom rested beside me. Sloan, who had decided to come along for reasons I'm not entirely sure of was the first to react. First, my dear little sister cocks a hip wearing her bell-bottomed black Hot Topic pants. The girl had a black collar around her neck as well as a black bomber jacket.

"So...why is Rachel from Friends screaming at us?" I snerked.

"Mrs. Finkbonner," my mother began and stepped to the side. That's when we noticed the small, but decently sized crowd of people just beyond us. Immediately, Sloan bolted back inside to grab the Court security officers, my mom, the ever defiant mother bear, inserted herself in front of me. Me, the rage-filled redhead who could deadlift four hundred pounds, being body shielded by her baseline mother.

"We'd like to speak to your daughter, Mrs. O'Callaghan," Mrs. Fink Bonner said. I tilted my head as I scooted around my mother and stood by her.

"Not happening, your son is one hairbreadth away from being charged with sexual assault." Mom crossed her arms and I could hear the gears in her head working as she said, "Do you really want to hand me more fodder for our lawsuit against you?"

"I didn't know you'd be here, I was here merely to speak to a friend on the County Council," the blond Stepford wife smiled. You know those fake smiles people get when their about to play maniacal stalker, yeah, that was the kind of grin the blond woman.

"Mutants are a threat to baselines everywhere," added a person not far behind her. And the crowd decided to flash a Humanity First placard and I backed up a step.

"He attacked me," I gasped. Not wanting to get near any of those bastards several of which looked a bit like the football players who attacked me.

"You're lying," the woman snapped in reply.

Just as the mob started to close in toward us, my sister walked out with three uniformed police officers behind her. Sloan's hair was dyed purple at the time, and she looked damn heroic. She walked by and took my hand in hers and linked hands with my mother.

"Your stupid fucking son attacked my big sister," she snarled, "and now you're showing where he got his brains. Walk home malibu, not everyone is a degenerate like you."

"Your parents named your sibling well. She's as spirited and sharp-tongued as anyone I knew." Morgan's chuckled in my ear as my sister completed her quip.

"You little cretin," the woman neared us and looked about to say something as a uniform blocked her path.

"Miss, I'm sorry to form you, but this is verging on witness tampering." The Officer informed the woman, and as the other two began to wave off the crowd we made our escape.

After being assaulted again by her kid, I wanted to get one last good view of the woman as we made our escape. I turned around and just as I gazed at her - her eyes met mine. She smiled at me, not the weird shit-eating grin from earlier. It was like I was walking straight into a trap or something. I took my time to get a good solid view of the situation and of all my surroundings. There was no one around us outside of the protesters and the three uniformed Officers. Whatever, the woman was smiling about unnerved me to no end. Morgan herself growled in my ear as we turned to get in my mom's car. It was time to put the past behind us, and get as far away from reminders of it as fast as possible.

 

---

 

Chapter 10 - Fool’s Folly

Late Afternoon - November 2nd, 2007 - Haxton Road

Henry hated how dark it got near the end of the day in Winter. As a Floridian transplant to the state, he'd never got used to how quickly the temperature dropped near the end of October. To most a Washingtonian the low fifties were barely cold enough to wear anything more than a sweatshirt. The rain made it even worse in Henry's eyes, and as he sat along the road playing speed trapper he could feel his boredom growing by the minute. The shift was almost over though and would be ending at about Six PM.

His cruiser was one of the newer ones, a nice SUV made for speed and durability. Because he had a larger and more imposing vehicle the deputy, like others, traveled alone when out on his assigned shift. A small bag of food sat on the passenger seat, and as he glanced at the numbers tick away to five PM he decided to eat his lunch for the day. Six AM to Six PM wasn't an easy shift, and after eating small meals throughout his initial stops he wanted a nice bit of pastrami on rye. Unwrapping the sandwich his husband placed his meals in he savored the tanginess of the dijon mustard inside.

Even if the place was damn cold, he didn't have to worry about his background getting him in trouble. The young man was only in his mid-twenties and now two years on the job. A good recommendation from the Police Academy in Miami landed him this job in the first place. After about five minutes the sandwich was gone along with the Powerade he'd packed along with it. He preferred electrolyte drinks to that taurine heavy energy shit the kids drank these days.

his little break over Henry Duvalle scanned the horizon as his cruiser faced out away from the inner territory of the Lummi Tribal Reservation. He gripped the steering wheel as a series of headlights alerted him to a small convoy of passing cars. This wasn't unusual at all as many cars sped along Slater Road onto Haxton way on their way out to the Lummi Ferry Dock. But something about those lights made his gut turn. As they drew clearer he caught sight of five cars all moving at relatively the same speed as the others. The first was a nondescript sedan, black, and sped by at just five miles over the limit. He had no interest in ticketing someone for something so minuscule, but as the second car passed he caught sight of a Humanity First bumper sticker on the back of the SUV. The third car was a large Pick-Up truck with one of those strange little rigs in the back that let it fly a flag.

This one flew the Confederate Battle Flag, and upon seeing that his stomach turned further. As a southern boy, Henry was familiar with the flag itself. At times when he was growing up, he always felt proud of the Confederacy's history and even considered joining a Civil War Reenactment Society at one point. That was before he met Daisuke his husband, and before he adopted two little kids. Upon seeing that flag he decided that perhaps it best he pay a small visit to the Lummi Tribal Police. Lloyd Spencer, a drinking buddy of his and the brother of one of the Council Members owed him fifty dollars, and, if he reckoned right, was on duty right at that moment.

Just as the last car sped out of sight he turned around and reported in he was heading to the Tribal Police.

And he thought his shift was over.

Just After Five PM - November 2nd, 2007 - Jameson Home

You know all my life I'd been driven all over parts of the Lummi Reservation and even now as my parents drove through the trees enclosing the small clean kept driveway I was amazed at how beautiful it was at sunset. The Reservation itself is decent sized, It covered an entire peninsula splitting Bellingham Bay from Lummi Bay in the north. A smaller Island just off the coast by a few hundred yards was an added bit of land. Every school day since I started Middle School I was driven over parts of the reservation. Some of the homes we stopped off at weren't the best, and some were pretty ritzy. Just like any group of people, the Lummi had a middle and lower class. I mean it's not unrealistic since the reservation itself was, to a large degree, sovereign land.

So when the Jameson House came into sight I can actually claim I wasn't surprised by it. The House itself was about as big as mine post-remodel, with a total of three stories. I made out a large room facing the woods away from the driveway, and a small reception area near a covered carport. We parked a bit away from the front door and I stepped out just before my little sister followed after me. Mom and dad were already locking the car by the time I was told to get the gifts from beside my seat. I wasn't sure what dad bought for Gerald, but I knew mom was busily carrying her addition for dinner that night. A stroganoff meat casserole she made with chives and sour cream. Something I would have eaten the entire platter of.

Was probably a good measure mom brought two covered pans of it with us.

We reached the front door and I was a bit amazed. Beside the door and towering over me was an articulately carved totem pole, a smaller far cry from the large ones found across the reservation, but a totem pole nonetheless. What a lot of history teachers and professors might tell you is that totems are not a Native American wide practice. The Cedar Longhouses and their tall carved Poles are something unique to the Pacific North West. So was the beautiful style of art most of the tribes who made their homes along the Salish Sea used. Salish Art and those of other Pacific Northwestern first nations were hard to describe. It was geometric and used alternating colors and shapes to form images. Black and red were prominent in the design and I felt a warmth spread over me as I admired the pole in the sunset light.

At the base was Raven, the great sunstealer and teacher found in many parts of the Salish region. At the top was Eagle, and middle of the way through I picked out Whale.

"This is magnificent." Morgan's words broke my concentration as I felt her spiritually leaning in to get a better look at the pole’s craftmanship.

"It is right?" I whispered back to her.

Sloan gave me a side-eyed glance at my self-talk and as I turned to face the door. I was going to be the one to knock and not one for hesitation I did so. Three hard knocks to wake up whoever was in the home, and immediately I heard the barking of a few dogs. Dogs are a common sight on the reservation and unleashed animals are not at all peculiar to most when traveling it. When the door opened a massive black form whizzed out past me and was nearly tackling my sister. Sloan started to giggle like a schoolgirl as what I could only call a Newfie licked her face.

"Dammit Cody," I heard Corinne speak up as she leaned from the doorway and rolled her eyes.

"He's gorgeous," Sloan cried as she knelt down after him and hugged him around the neck.

"We brought some food, and a gift for your father," my mom said lifting up the pan of food and shuffling past me to show it.

"NICE! I smell stroganoff, gods, I've been wanting something fatty and greasy all day," she laughed.

"Good! I mean I used low fat sour cream, but plenty of chives," mom laughed.

"Can we go in and eat?" I asked with a small whine.

I was an exemplar, SUE ME, if I was hungry a lot.

Corinne gave a small shrug before asking us to take off our shoes. Just inside the foyer she showed us where we could hang our coats. The small entryway wasn't unlike my own at home. A tiled floor met my feet and the ceiling loomed just a few feet over me. It was painted green and as I looked across the room I noted that evergreen was the color of choice for the home. Green was a good color, and personally, I saw no issue with it.

"Ah, someone with a good sense of design!" Morgan chuffed as I set aside my coat and darted further into the home. A massive living room met me and upon a long couch, I spied Sophia laying down while nursing a cup of hot chocolate. Upon seeing me she sat up a bit and waved me over. My new comrade in arms pulled a blanket over us as she began to tell me about the show she was watching. Luckily, it was just Law and Order, which I readily agreed was far better than any of the "REAL MCO" shows others watched. The fact we both liked cop procedurals laid the groundwork and soon we were both talking about the upcoming change in our school life.

As part of some sick joke between our parental units, both Sophia and I would be traveling with her grandfather on a train across the country to Dunwich, New Hampshire.

"Did you get your measurements for the new uniform," she asked me.

"We're going to a tailor to get it done right," I sighed, "mom spoke to someone in the school administration and relayed how my measurements have been shifting lately."

"Oh, so your boobs did get bigger," Sophia chuckled.

"Yes! I'm up to a c-cup now and GODS," I growled. My breasts were awesome and in other cases, a fucking curse!

"Hey, being  a girl isn't all that easy," she replied.

"I know, but, I feel like I wasn't given instructions, for all this," I gestured to my body.

"Welcome to girlhood and puberty, confusion and shame are your new friends," she said.

It was true. Not only had my body undergone a rapid change it was remade. I still ached from the last jolt of changes hitting me over the past week and I could feel how hungry I was. Sophia's mom handed me a cup of hot chocolate while I sat by her daughter, and we were soon back to chatting about our upcoming school.

"So," I placed my hands in my lap as I eyed Sophia and she returned my gaze.

"So," she returned.

"Is your application package done?" I asked.

"For the most part, Grandpa's already reserving a sleeper train for us." She drank a bit of her hot chocolate and I followed suit. "Why is your's not."

"Um...nooo?" I squeaked.

"First," she took a piece of paper and booped my nose.

"HEY!" I said and scrabbled to block my nose from further assault.

"You need to take this seriously," she scolded.

"I am - I AM!" I whined plaintively.

"Hey guys," Sloan said from the entry hall, "there's a ton of cars coming down the driveway."

"WHAT?" I heard Sophia yell.

"Yeah, there are like five sets of lights making their way here." Sloan was watching from the front door just beyond the small hallway leading back to the foyer.

"Why are you even in here?" I asked as I came to stand beside her. My little sister in her usual bomber jacket and black jeans stretched before giving me the bland reply, "Cuz yer busy playing dolls with yer new buddy."

"Whatever," I growled just as a small sedan parked just outside the door.

"Mister Gerald," Sloan cried loudly as a crowd of figures began filing out of the cars.

"Yeah?" he appeared around the corner just in time to see the men through the door window.

"Did you invite anyone else?" I asked.

"No," was all he said before the lights in the house suddenly went out.

 

---

 

Chapter 11 - Speak Softly

Early Evening - November 2nd, 2007 - Lummi Tribal Police Station

Something just didn't sit right with Henry after seeing the convoy of five cars making their way down Haxton. It wasn’t the Confederate flag nor the Humanity First bumper stick. Nor was it the conjunction of the two appearing on two separate vehicles like a Klanner tailgate. No, it was what he saw in a singular glance and a flash of expression. Just before the first car passed he made out the man driving the small sedan leading the pack. It's hard to really gauge what a man was thinking in a momentary frame of expression. But as a deputy and as an officer of the law Henry prided himself on his ability to read a situation.

Those men have no good intent on their minds. He made the general rationalization just as he pulled up to the small one-story building where the Lummi Tribal Police called home. He stepped out of his cruiser and eyed the two smoking officers leaning against the railing of the ramp leading the way up for the handicapped. Both were Natives at first glance, dark hair, and slightly tanned features. One couldn't be too generalized though. He gave a nod to the two Officers after passing them by on way up and pushed the door to let himself inside. The Tribal Office wasn't as big as the Sherrif's, but it suited the needs of the smaller population of the Rez. In luck, his friend, Lloyd, was there and seemed to be sitting at a desk just beyond the reception area.

"Lloyd," he called out as an officer passed him, her face was set in a hard mask before she opened the door and disappeared.

"Oh look who it is," Lloyd said as he turned away from his computer screen and smiled at his friend. Being a Spencer the man was tall, at least six-two, and bore a long braid of dark brown-black hair. His ochre complexion was easily visible in the bright halogens of the station's lighting.

"Yup, up it's me, Dade County," Henry laughed. Ever since moving from Miami, the two had become fast friends on their respective beats. Lloyd even came over for dinner with his girlfriend, a girl from the Jameson family. That was all he knew of the man's background, but the two had created a good working relationship.

"I saw a small convoy, at least one Humanity First bumper sticker and some idiot flying the Confederate Flag out of the back of his pickup," he said in a flurry of words.

"Sounds like a bunch of country boys playing stupid on the Rez," Lloyd rolled his eyes. As a tribal cop, there was little he could do involving non-native folk on the Reservation.

"They were heading down Haxton, in formation staying within equal distance of each other," Henry relayed.

"What could they be after?" Lloyd wondered as he sat down in his chair and rubbed his chin.

"I'm sorry to take up your time Lloyd, I know you and Dahlia have plans for tonight," Henry sighed. Maybe his gut was wrong. There was nothing wrong with a little night ride, right?

"I wouldn't say you’re taking up my time Lloyd, what sparked you to come here in the first place," Lloyd inquired.

"I saw the face of the driver of the first car...he seemed...filled with malice," Henry said, "the kind I used to see when some country boys wanted to curb-stomp someone."

He still remembered when one of his friends ended up in the hospital for kissing her girlfriend at a bar. Just one kiss and some asshole decided to 'straighten out the lesbo'.

"Well, I guess we best ready ourselves then, a bunch of non-tribals on our land playing Snidely Whiplash isn't what I wanted for tonight," Lloyd shook his head and gave a snort.

As they both seemed to take a pause an alert pinged loudly as the dispatcher called out. "Hostile Home Invasion in Progress. 1302 Lummi Shore Road."

Lloyd froze at hearing the name before gritting his teeth and walked to the back in what Henry knew was the armor. The man returned holding his pump-action department issue shotgun.

"This is Officer Spencer reporting," the man spoke into his radio, "send an alert to the Whatcom Alliance, but I'm sure they already know."

"What's going on?" Henry asked as he fingered the holster of his own sidearm.

"You were right about those idiots in the cars, there at my wife's Uncle's place," he said.

"Whos that?"

"Gerald Jameson," Lloyd said as he waved to the two officers out front and the rest of the department exploded into action.

Early Evening, November 2nd, 2007 - Jameson Home

Have you ever had the feeling that all your happiness was on a timer? That some cosmic entity was waiting over you like the Sword of Damocles and as soon you were unaware just dropped the hammer? When the strange man got out of the small sedan parked near the door of Jameson's home I didn't know what to make of him. I was easily able to pick out his features in the light of the alert lamps on the house. He was balding with slicked back hair to one side. Wrinkled eyes and a face went to pasture. His body was clothed in a simple two-piece suit and his tie was loose around his neck. The man carried a piece of paper which I guess was some sort of document or a script for what he was going to say.

He stood just outside the car, leaning against the top of its frame, and kept the door open. Another man made his way outside, and this one made me start to panic. Unlike the other man, this man took care of himself and his hair was still nearly there. Blonde thinning hair atop a strong square jaw head and blue uncaring eyes watched me above a roman nose. This man had to be Brad's dad and the way how he held himself he screamed: "I am your better". Both of these men were obviously the leaders of the circus lined up along the driveway and as they waited more men climbed out of the cars behind them.

At this point in the action film, there would be a standoff. But, sadly this wasn't an action film, no yippee-kai-yay motherfucker to save my family in a blaze of glorious machine gunfire. No, the men all walked until they formed a semi-circle around the front door. Gerald was still standing in the doorway as the leader by his stance took a step closer to the door itself.

"Gerald, it's good to see you again after so many years," the man said.

"Dickinson, why are you here?" Gerald asked carefully.

"We aren't here for you or your freak family. Just the redhead, she's caused enough pain and needs to be taught a lesson," Dickinson or whatever his name was.

"You know I'm not going to let you near her Dickinson, just as I never let you near any of my clients when we sparred in the courtroom," Gerald countered.

"I thought you'd say that, and I had the smallest glimmer of hope you wouldn't," he said with a shake of his head.

A crash was heard behind us and I rushed into the kitchen as three armed figures appeared. Each was dressed in black, a combination of what I can only assume were body armor, black pants, and combat boots. Even their hands were gloved, and their heads covered with ski-masks. You know, I'm an evil but smart mercenary look. One of the men moved forward and he seized my sister's hand and yanked her away from my parents. Mom let out a loud growl, "Don't you FUCKING TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!"

My dad raised his hands to indicate he wasn't armed and replied, "Gentlemen, you have to know that the Alliance is on their way. This won't end well. We don't know your faces you can easily walk away and never get charged with a thing."

The mook holding my sister placed her against his chest and held his gun while drawing a knife from his hip. I felt my fear rising as he pressed the knife to her neck and my eyes shot to Sophia. My friend was whispering to her mom as one of the men barked out, "ALL OF YOU OUT FRONT! NOW!"

My parents slowly backed away as I watched Corrine drag, Sophia, along.

"Grainne, don't do anything," mom ordered me as she and Corrinne shared a quick look. I could only guess that being a hero Corinne had some sort of plan for a hostile home invasion scenario. I mean, why wasn't there a panic room around here? That was a thing, right?

I watched as we were all ushered into the foyer and the three men blocked our path. Each from what I could make out was carrying some form of an assault rifle. Not being a military expert all I can describe them as being is somewhat AK-47 in appearance. They even had slings for the men to keep the rifle over their shoulders. The men themselves moved in a trained precision that only could be made through years of training as a team.

My body was shaking as my fear kept me in place, and I followed the direction of my parents. Gerald was busily sparring verbally with Dickinson from what I could make out. The two were definitely old frenemies of some make, and I could make out a few more characters in glimpses around Gerald's form. After about five minutes the three mercenaries began pushing us toward the door and Gerald shuffled forward as we all were filed out of the door. Now we’re standing in front of the Jameson home in the middle of the night. Offhandedly I registered the fact that I was standing in Corrine's flower bed, and even stomping over a heather bush I could only guess they planted years ago.

I let my view drag downward in a slow painful arc until it was on my shoes. I dug my feet in instinctively as I could tell my fight or flight response was now on high alert. Lifting my head up I finally focused on what Dickinson was saying.

"This is getting old," Dickinson sighed.

"Your delaying tactics are just wasting time, shoot the bitch and we'll be out of here," cried a man behind him.

"I've got this covered," Dickinson said and raised a hand to stop someone. In the glare of the headlights, I made out the third man.

"This freak should know her place!" came the party line from the man.

"I told you I would handle this, I have no interest in seeing you all hit by one of Gerald's spells," Dickinson said.

"Watch lass, watch!" My eyes snapped onto the two men and back to Gerald. He was thumping a piece of wood I could only guess he'd sneaked out of his pocket. Sly old bastard! "Yes he is, he got them talking as a distraction." I blinked as the realization sunk in.

"Light is a gift for all to see." I heard the words.

All of a sudden a strange suction flowed through the air and I could feel myself feeling a little dazed. Morgan uttered a series of comments to me in a language I couldn't understand at all. But I did pick out one word she said and it was, "Essence."

A flare of blinding light filled my vision and I raised a hand to block it out in reaction. I heard a scream as several of the men weren't fast enough and one fell over obviously blinded by the light. Gerald held out the light source as it began to fail. Adrenaline sparked my reaction as I heard a collision of bodies. Corrine had jumped into action against the three men behind us. Seeing a speeding energizer tear into a group of armed men was shocking, she wasn't a blur, but she definitely moved faster than the three mercs could react too. Just as she hit the three men I heard something whiz by my head as a series of pops rang out behind me.

Someone was firing off their gun. I caught sight of the bastard who'd attacked my sister and it took all of my self-control from running at him. Edging away from behind Gerald I considered putting myself in front of Sloan as the last of the light ended. The men knew at this point I think that their plan wasn't going to work. Come to think of it, we had two trained heroes on our side. How was this going to go in their favor? I thought about it for a moment but shoved that aside as the gunfire started.

My parents moved to grab Sloan as she was closest to them at that moment. I could see my father watching me out of the corner of his eye. I had no hard feelings, I knew my parents were doing what was the first thing on their mind, and I was right as my dad was already assessing if he could reach me. A whizzing sound sped past me as I dropped to the ground. The gunfire was a mix of what I heard in video games and a series of loud pops. It was like any Fourth of July on the Island when the kids when nuts with firecrackers.

I felt it at first when the men grabbed my sister, and before that when Brad attacked me a second time. My muscles went tight all at once as fiery heat bubbled up from my feet into my belly and further. Just as I began to right myself upward I dug my foot into that poor heather plant once more. Immediately, as I scanned the scene. The men were retreating from the front of the house back toward their cars. The speaker, Dickinson was already opening his car door as the other one he argued with was angrily pointing at me as he got into the passenger door.

The light of the car revealed his face, a nice square jaw, blue eyes, and blonde hair. An old version of my attacker. As if a light switched on in my brain all that pent up stress and rage sparked and I jumped from where I stood. Something struck my shoulder and a flare of pain blossomed along my right. Slowly I started to run until I was right in the car. Hitting it with all my strength the metal dented more and more as I punched a fist through the driver’s side window. More pain as shards of glass bit and sliced open my fist. I seized Dickinson by the scruff of his jacket and I began to pull. Dickinson or whatever his goddess fucking name was let out a moan of protest as I began to drag him from the car.

His clothing protected him from most of the glass as in one final yank I sent him flying out of the car window. Another flash of pain blossomed on my side as I felt something hot and wet running down my right shoulder. Mister Finkbonber stared at me in horror. His 'lovely' blonde hair was mussed with sweat and slick against his head. I landed two consecutive punches to the inside of the door before it creaked open. The stupid door finally came off after I dug in my heels and pulled with all my might. Finkbonner was struggling to undo his seatbelt like a complete fool.

"YOU FUCKING COWARD!" I bellowed as I ripped off his seatbelt and began pulling him free.

The man was kicking and fighting to get away from me at this point. I grabbed one of his hands and a loud crunch was heard as I crushed it. He screamed in pain and I threw him across the ground onto it with a loud thud. Stalking over towards him I growled as I kneeled to land a punch directly to his head. My eyes lingered on his hand and I snapped my head back to gaze at the car. All rage fell from me as I stood up just as a flash of lights entered my vision. I pulled back my fist as the sirens from those very lights finally caught my attention. My eyes caught on the words on one of the cars now pulling up behind the rest.

"Lengesot-Cho>"

That and the words "Lummi Tribal Police" made me feel so damn relieved.

"COUNTY SHERRIF!" said a voice from one of the cars another figured yelled, "TRIBAL POLICE! GET ON THE GROUND! DROP THOSE GUNS!"

I raised my hands. A Tribal Cop came near me and gestured for a woman to quickly frisk me. Perhaps five minutes later she nodded and I headed back to my family. Tears flowed down my eyes as I felt the pain from earlier far more clear. I cried at the agony throbbing in my right shoulder as I realized a bullet had grazed me. The opposite shoulder or more accurately my clavicle was bleeding as well. One of those bastards had finally shot me. Those idiots had the aim of Imperial Stormtroopers. Closing my eyes my mom waved to a cop for an ambulance.

"You'll just need to stem the bleeding," Corrine remarked as my mom waited by me.

"Why?" mom asked.

"Your daughter, her initial tests point to her being an Exemplar Three or Four. She'll heal fully in a few days."

"Really?" mom asked as she glanced at dad. My father gave me a confused shrug. Neither of them had worked with many mutants in the past. Me, I just gave a nod as it sounded about right. It seemed to fit every bit of loose internet lore I'd read over the years of fanfiction.

"Officer does anyone have a first aid kit to help clean out her gunshot wound?" Corinne pulled aside and asked the Sheriff's Deputy.

"Yeah, I have one in my cruiser, just give me a few moments," the man said.

"Hey Gerald, Corinne, a bus should be here in a bit to look over you all. Also to look to the man with the crushed hand, and the other with the possibly broken back," said a Lummi Cop.

"Broken back?" I asked in shock.

"Yeah, he was thrown hard enough and landed on his spine, could just be a bruise, but he's reporting limited feeling in parts of his body," he replied.

"I did that, I pulled them from the car," I said monotonously, "I hurt them."

"Babes, you were defending us and you didn't mean to do anything," my dad assured me.

"No - no, I was going to cave Finkbonner's head in when I stopped myself," I could feel fear coming over me. Maybe, I was being a little dramatic, but the amount of anger I felt when I attacked Finkbonner was overwhelming to my senses. The other problem, it felt good at the time. Now I felt exhausted, and my body was starting to go leaden. This made no sense, why was I so tired.

A lot happened in the time between the sudden drain of my energy. First, the man I would later come to know was named Henry Duvalle returned with a first aid kit and properly disinfected my wounds. He applied a bit of gauze and medical tape and after about another ten minutes a loud siren signaled the arrival of an ambulance. I could only watch, a glum expression on my face, as the two men I'd attacked were placed on stretchers and taken into the bus.

"I'm a monster," I said, before closing my eyes and letting my mom's hug bring me some measure of comfort.

 

---

 

Chapter 12 - Revelations of the Dead

Morning, October 15th, 2007 - Dublin Ireland

A normal morning in the ancient city of Dublin, the capital of the Republic of Ireland. The Oireachtas, the Irish Parliament hall, was abuzz with morning activity as security personnel prepared for the gathering of the lower house, the Dáil Éireann. As the various Deputies filed into the room, a pair of women walked out past them. One had long black sable hair, held up in a bun at the top of her head. Her stark blue eyes were furrowed as she was in deep conversation with a middle eastern woman. Both were dressed smartly in a pair of pencil skirts, button-down pastel blouses, and low heeled shoes.

"By the Lord's breat', I am feckin' tired o' Sinn Feinn's nonsense," groused the ravenhead, a woman by the name of Maeve. Or more appropriately Second Lieutenant, Maeve Maguire, military liaison to Ireland's Ministry of Paranormal Investigation. As a mutant, she rarely wore the mask of her persona, Glass Witch or 'Ceallach Gloine', in her native Irish tongue. Late the night before Maeve was confronted by a Deputy from the up and coming, Sinn Fein party. The bitch wanted a favor in return for backing a pro-Mutant act a month earlier.

"You are the one who decided to date a Deputy's secretary and got caught," replied Revi, a British born Kurdish woman.

"Not all of us get to meet non-Irish girls all the time Revi!" Maeve quipped as she giggled with her friend.

"Not all of our work for Interpol," Revi replied.

Maeve was the youngest of two daughters born and bred on the Emerald Isle. Growing up in the shadow of the Troubles of the North they both became heroes in their own right. Sinnead had gone off to the United States to train at a special school whereas Maeve stayed in school and later joined the Irish Defense Forces. Even as Glass Witch, Maeve spent more time staving off government bureaucracy than out in the field. As a practitioner of the old arts, she found it irritating her scrying skills were more often used to locate missing cell phones than missing people.

Still, even with her sister galavanting about the west of the country as the great and beloved Song Spirit, she and Sinnead shared a bond that was strong after years of being apart. Their mother wasn't happy with both of them being masked heroes, but at least when push came to shove they had each other's backs. Maeve was looking forward to her sister's return at the end of the week. Already, she had lined up a few pretty lads she might find fun to dance with at a small pub in their old home town.

Her personal prospects weren't that good. The queer community of Ireland was a strong one, but her double life made it hard. It didn't help further she wasn't a mutant as well.

"Hey, what’s with the fancy bloke waiting outside our office?" Revi blurted out. Both were so caught up in their conversation they'd barely noticed how fast they'd strolled to their current base of operations.

"Second Lieutenant," the man said. He was dressed in a military dress uniform. The dark grey-green most people saw when the modern Irish Defense Forces conducted their formal drills outside the government buildings. This man didn't wear the usual high billed hat and instead held a small beret under his arm. He held a dispatch in one hand, a small envelope waiting to be opened and addressed to "Second Lieutenant, Maeve Maguire."

Upon coming close enough the man offered her a salute which both women returned. He then handed her the dispatch as she gave a small murmur, "What does DJ2 wan' wit' me?"

DJ2, the Directorate of Military Intelligence, she worked for them on and off when her assignments were required. Seeing a uniformed officer outside her door wasn't unusual especially when she worked on active counter-terrorism details. Still, her breath shook as she opened the door to her office.

"Tea or Coffee, sir?" she asked, the man gave a shake of his head.

"Sorry mam, but I must return to Headquarters," he gave a nod and turned on his heel to leave.

Maeve was perplexed as she set the dispatch down on her desk in the small spartan office. Revi shut the door and locked it behind them both. The woman kicked off her heels and set them beside her own desk as she walked over to her friend.

"What does it say?" she asked.

"Let's find out," Maeve wondered.

Using a silver letter opener she sliced open the dispatch and retrieved the message inside.

"Oh...by Mary's good graces," she whispered, as her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Sinnead had - a heart attack and then...something crushed her heart. She's dead, me big sister is dead." Tears came to her eyes as her friend embraced her. Her mind raced as all she could think about. By the Briars! How could this happen!

Early Morning, November 3rd, 2007 - Downtown Seattle

Break the balance and debt would need to be paid. The words rang loudly in her head as she set down all of her work for the day. Dressed in a black kimono-style robe, she was leaning across her bed as a list of items were placed out before her. As promised a few days after their meeting the Average Man delivered her a series of documents. His commander preferred things on real old dead tree format over the newly arising digital. The documents in question were all files carefully put together to give her what she needed. Already, the edge of her debt was against her neck figuratively and if the commander wished for another direct hit she had a lot to pay for.

Elizbeth Monaghan was a woman running out of time. The death of the Song Spirit was an item on a laundry list likely to see her dragged down beneath the mounds. She sighed and rubbed her neck where the razor stood, and she began looking through a list of acts. A series of accounts were on one document, and she rolled her eyes at the amount of money she'd have to bleed just to stay alive. Next, there was the list of targets she could place the blame on. A few local criminals who were more than able to take on a bit of the burden as necessary. The amount of footwork required to find it all out was beyond imagining, and only the sources of the Average Man could suffice.

"I'll need to set up these feckin eedjits first," she hummed. The plan would require allocating some of her growing bad luck to the motorists who seemed to be avoiding hefty drunk driving charges. A few rich kids who could absorb the bad news in her favor. A few signs anchoring the luck on before they went driving the night before the hit. Of course, if she could set up the hit as the actual fault of someone else she could circumvent it all. The knife pressed closer still as she felt her jugular pumping in her neck and she shivered.

"She's going..." she trailed off and shivered again.

"Agree, to this Bess, and I'll keep you alive,"The words were a reminder why she did all of this. One little mistake and she could end up...there. More shivers, and more problems down the road. If she didn't own so much on her tab she would just go retire in Belfast as she planned years ago. A small tick in the form of an eye twitch appeared as she read through the information on her primary target, Glass Witch, the sister of her previous hit.

She and Glass Witch went back a bit, to say the least. Not like any sort of comical former friendship like one might see in a cartoon or some sort of high action blockbuster. No, when she was starting out as a petty thief and learning the basics of her magic and Sinnead was just off attending that stupid school in New Hampshire. In fact, it was through the sister that Elizabeth knew Glass Witch. Now that they two would be going toe-to-toe again. Easily it would end in her death, and Glass Witch getting her revenge.

Oh gods, how would the Balance take that one.

"Not this time old friend, not this time," she crooned as the knife at her neck eased, metaphorically of course.

The spell in question would be easy, once she set it all in motion the pendulum would swing as it would. The particulars were going to be annoying as well as keeping all of the parts of her rube-Goldberg-esque plan moving. Rubbing her hands together she glanced at the last bits sent to her via unknowing courier. More vessels filled with essence, enough to do what she needed.

On the bedside table to her right lay her regent's bag. Made from the sacrificial kidskin, it radiated a simple spell that hid its location and made it seem completely innocuous to anyone, but herself. The constant essence cost was worth it though, as she retrieved her athame. At the beginning of the spell required she offers a bit of her own blood to anchor the threads of luck in her favor. No more traversing the world of mirrors this time.

"By the blacken Oak,

I invoke the twisting ties of Loki.

Venom of the serpent,

I seek the chaos of the Trickster."

Her old friend the knife was back this time under her chin as she sliced open her right index finger. The circle below her was drawn out in Futhark, and as she felt the blood well up from the cut she pressed it to the circle. Immediately one of the vessels filled with essence drained away like sand falling in an hourglass. The sigil glowed as she smiled. Several smaller pieces of crystal started to glow in time with the sigil. Already, the paper began to burn away as she picked up a small piece of mistletoe from her bag, a line of witch's nest she'd gathered before. The crystals were small and would contain the effect, as the mistletoe would wrap around them all.

"Yes....just what I needed."

Each of the items would look strange, a piece of quartz bound in a wrap of mistletoe. She smiled as she reached out and used her athame to draw the auric lines from the slowly burning sigil paper into the crystals. The mistletoe would contain the bad luck she was purposely drawing around her. Then whatever probability required to cause what she wished to happen.

"I hate dealing with this shite," she murmured as she reached into her bag one last time. A small hello-kitty band-aid would serve its purpose as she used it to close up the cut on her finger. Sucking on it a little bit before bandaging it she let out a loud sigh. She felt a nonexistent hand caress her throat as the knife disappeared.

"I have too many damn debts ta pay," she smiled before returning to her work.

Mid-Day, November 3rd, 2007 - Seatac Airport

If there was one thing in this world that Maeve Maguire hated more than dealing with gun-wielding Irish Provos, it was flying internationally. Well, not the usual European concept of international, no, inter-continental would be a better definition. Being an anti-terrorism agent would make many think Maeve was fine with international transportation and in question flying. The truth was though, she hated it. The lift-off scared her to her bones and the landing only increased the claustrophobic feeling. Oh, begob, why did they hafta stick me next to the damn windoh seat? Feck this! Luckily, a quick sleeping draught brewed for this very occasion let her get through most of the flight in a deep restful sleep. But potions only lasted so long, and hers left her awake the last two hours of the flight.

The worst of it all was that gentle increasing sense of falling she felt each time the plane circled down closer and closer to the landing site. All she had to look through was the blastedly small window. Tiny little buildings grew larger and larger as she felt the plane drop again. Another drop and at last it came in for the landing. A sudden hard force and roar filled her ears as the plane touched down and began it's a final taxi to the exit. Her breath quickened while the landing came to an end. Every time, every damn time! Maeve reached for the bottle of water sitting on her small tray and downed it quickly. As the entire wretched machine came to a halt a loud ding signaled it was okay to unbuckle and stand. Most people hated leaving airplanes and Maeve was one of them.

She let the first few rows of people in front of her move before she stood from her seat. A pair of jeans covered her legs and a smart red collared shirt. Her black jacket completed the ensemble. Reaching up and around she grabbed her overnight bag and unhooked the carryon beneath her seat. Enough supplies for a few weeks and she already had a town-house rented to act as her base of operations. All she needed now was to get through the visa checkpoints and see customs dealt with. Luckily her MMID was prepared and so was her official badge as an agent for the Irish Ministry.

She tied her long black hair into a tall messy ponytail. The long black tresses would need a bit of a wash after she hit her town-house. The last two rows of seats in front of her emptied out and she walked down toward the end of the aisle. The British Airway attendants were offering goodbyes to everyone. A quick nod to the cute blonde she flirted with at the start of the flight led to blush from the blonde in question.

"See ye next toim Luv," she offered and the girl blushed again.

Her blue eyes wandered over the exit and she took a step over into Yankee land. The push through the entrance continued all the way down the long hall. She inhaled the fresh air and admired the total lack of heat which she preferred. It was a reasonable chill outside and the switch to the air calmed the last of her nerves. A glance across the line of seats for the folk waiting to shuffle their way into a plane for the flight back. The scene before her was typical of most airports. A tiled-floor easy to clean and a series of shops just beyond the rest area.

"I'd fancy a tea if I didn't have to run," she murmured to herself. She followed the rest of her fellow passengers toward the exit, her secondary carryon rolling behind her connected to an extendable handle. Cheap and easy to move, and with her other bag slung over her arm along with her purse. She spent the next while just trying to keep track of where everyone was going and finally she was in customs. Up an escalator and she found herself in front of a desk for the customs agents along with an MCO detail. A small roll of her eyes was her immediate reaction to seeing Mutant Commissions Agents, and even as the black-suited jackboots drew closer she stood her ground.

Not being an exemplar nor suffering from GSD Maeve knew she was lucky. Unless someone pressed her, she could easily pass off as a baseline. She stopped in front of one of the black suits as he asked for identification. Maeve removed her MMID and her Ministry Badge as the man seemed to take a moment to look it over. He was close to two meters tall, golden tanned skin, and a rough carefully shaven shadow on his round jaw. The man was completely bald and as he moved she could tell he was not just another desk riding agent as well.

"M'am, I'm going to need you to come with me," the man said. She gave a simple glance at the man as she twisted her face into a frown.

"Yer checkin' me Irish Ministry identification correct?" she asked.

"This says you are a military attache?" she nodded in response, "Second Lieutenant, Maeve Maguire, I werk as a terrorist expert fer the Irish Republic."

"You have all of your credentials?" he asked as she walked behind him slowly keeping an eye on his two co-agents.

"Aye," she replied in a slightly gruff manner. They opened a door to a small side room and she walked inside. The inside was grey painted walls more tiled floors and a singular cheap grey table. Knowing the drill she set her bags down and let them do a quick personal inspection as she set down her passport for them. The youngest of the agents, a white man stopped as he retrieved a large manilla envelop stamped with the words "CLASSIFIED" and the Seal of the Irish Republic. The man's hands hesitated as he licked his lips before he roughly grasped it. His brown eyes narrowed as he reached for something in his pants pocket and retrieved a red pocket knife. Immediately, the senior agent raised his hand to stay him.

"Sir, she could be faking this," said one of the junior agents.

"Not every mutant coming through is trying to pretend to be James Bond, Krezinski," the senior agent relayed.

Good, it looks like what I hearin' bout the local MCO was correct.

"Your background checks out, sorry agent," the man replied.

"No problem sir," she said as she watched as the older man directed Agent Krezinski to put everything back. About two minutes later her luggage was all back in order and the older agent opened the door for her.

"Tank ye very much agent?" she asked and offered her hand.

"Agent-in-Charge Jeffrey O'Dell," he said and she shook his hand harder.

"Good ta meet another Irishmen!" she laughed as he released her clasp.

"Dad's actually from Donegal, met mom just after coming here," he said and she gave a nod, "Did he tell ye bout the Troubles?"

"Yeah, about the gunmen in the night from both sides, " he gave a curt nod.

"Well AIC O'Dell, I tink one of those arseholes is the reason I'm here," she sighed.

"Sorry to hear that Agent Maguire, I can only hope your stay here in the States is a good one," he replied.

"I can only hope," she smiled and gave wave before heading toward the checkpoint. The American at the desk gave her more sass than the MCO as he checked over her Passport and joked about her accent. A cold glare met his gaze as she walked past him and stepped onto another escalator to head into the baggage claim.

Her regents and other items needed for her magic as well as an armor were stashed in the larger checked bag she kept. She preferred to travel light when abroad and as she picked up the large black roller-bag she set it down on the ground. The carousels were already moving the large sheets of metal shifting over each other as bag after bag lumbered down the conveyor belt from the loading dock. With her baggage already in hand, she took her time to scan the signs hanging from the ceiling and walls.

This place is better organized than that shitter in Cleveland.

The layovers were boring as all hell, and being left in Ohio of all places didn't help. She swore she saw a Humanity First preacher while traveling from one terminal to the other. Most of the surfaces of the place were either black, brown or taupe. Whoever designed the placed really loved grey as well. A light annoyed frown graced her features as she began scanning for whoever was supposed to pick her up. All the contact information told her was to head to the baggage claim and they would find her. Maeve was getting more annoyed by the second as she was already hungry from being asleep and missing the in-flight meal.

I need ta get over me fear of flying. She chided herself as her phone beeped loudly. Perplexed, she reached into her back pocket and withdrew her smartphone and stared as a simple text appeared.

BLOCKED: Welcome to the States, Agent Maguire.

"Feckin, 'ell," she growled.

MAEVE_MAGUIRE: Who is this?

BLOCKED: You'll see me right by the exit, I'm wearing black tie.

Of all the things to encounter, now it was time for a Lil' old cloak and dagger. Rolling her eyes the Irishwoman let out a series of unkind curses in the recesses of her mind. Dammit Sinnead, this kind o' shite was yer thing!

Five minutes later she lugged her rolling luggage past carousels six through twelve. A small lobby met her surrounded by the same square black faux-leather seating. Each bench was attached to the next in a long steel black frame. Several men and women sat at the bench as more travelers brushed past her. She eyed her phone in her right hand and began to scroll through her messages. Another loud bleep as she turned back to her messages. Upon seeing it she scowled at the glowing screen.

BLOCKED: Lookup Agent, I'm waving at you.

"Mother Mary," she switched to more child-appropriate curse words as a troop of children toddled by surrounding a fairly tired looking gaggle of parents. Are those scouts? She eyed their small little brown jackets and let the sight distract her as another bleep announced yet another message.

BLOCKED: My hand is starting to hurt, I'm in plain daylight perhaps a few meters away. Are you blind Miss Maguire?

Her face was about to turn red from what she saw before she grabbed her luggage and glanced about. Her eyes narrowed in on a small short Hispanic man, his eyes covered by a pair of aviator glasses. He was dressed in a grey tailored suit and as his text indicated he wore a black tie. Barreling toward him and nearly shoving an old woman aside she came to rest in front of him.

"By all the Heavens, that took forever," the man said and carefully removed his glasses. He was a head shorter than her, dark brown skin and slightly almond eyes. He brushed off his shoulders before offering his hand. The Irishwoman glanced at it, her lips screwing into a frown before she took it in hand. A firm shake not unlike Agent O'Dell.

"Agent Jimenez, DPA," he said and removed his credentials within his jacket pocket. He even let her read the badge number before she handed it back to him. She offered her own papers in kind and he read through them with his eerie yellow eyes.

"I'll hand you the briefing information once we are alone," she stated to him. He gave a nod before picking up her checked luggage in one hand and gestured for her to follow. An exemplar? She wondered as the man scanned the street near the exit before waving his hand and a black unmarked sedan pulled in front of them. The woman in the driver's seat on the left tilted her head before smiling at Jimenez.

"Good to see you finally found her Bobby, and here I thought we'd be waiting till the saints sung his name," the woman said in a slight accent. It wasn't like Jimenez's and instantly she pegged it for something back east. To her knowledge that's where all of the strange-sounding American's lived anyway.

Jimenez opened the door for her and she got in. He then opened the boot to stow her larger luggage. Strangely enough, the small car was fairly comfortable, and interestingly enough had a leather interior. I wish our bloody budget paid this well. Maeve glanced out the window as Agent Jimenez sat down in the front. She crossed her arms over her chest as she waited. The damn flight and the annoying agent, what the hell was I facing?

Night, December 3rd, 2007 - Dreamscape

I could feel the cold as it brushed the tips of my fingers and my face. It wasn't real, but by the goddesses, it felt real. A cold harsh kiss against my skin as I pulled the cloak around my shoulders tighter still. The deeper I went into my dreamland the more and more real it felt. Everything was becoming more confusing as the puzzle I thought my life became was adding pieces every day. Morgan's realm was pieced together from my own memories and dreams of what Ireland was. From the very fabric of the books I read as a child and what I often thought about in my earliest writings. So it wasn't surprising at all when the cold hit me and I found myself staring at a dank rolling moor.

I swore, my dreams shifted faster than normal. Fog rolled over the moors straight out of The Hound of the Baskervilles. The damp ground itself was unevenly made of peat, moss, grass and much more. I kicked over a rock which littered the ground of the sod beneath my heels. Boots crafted from wrapped leather and bound wool on the inside. They were soft and gave me a grip on the uneven ground. Atop my head was a light helm crafted from bronze. I pulled it down over my head as my hair tied in a series of braids fell over my shoulders. An upper mask of metal covered my face and ended just above my nose. The metal of the helm was etched with scrolling birds.

My chest was encased in a leather cuirass fitted with pieces of bronze metal. Studded leather armor, I giggled a bit as the cuirass swept down to my legs. A wide belt held it all in place as I checked my helm and stopped moving. The spear strapped to my back moved against my legs as I reached behind to check the straps. I didn't remember manifesting the spear, but it's weight felt nice in my hands. I walked a bit further and stopped. The moors were quiet, not a single sound, only that of my feet. This wasn't right.

Even in my dreams, the wind made a noise. The crackling of animals shifting around as they went about their lives. I knew this because this is how my dreamland was made! A sudden movement caught my attention as I gasped. Something ran across the ground thirty paces away just on the edge of my vision. Fog deepened, and shapes started to shift around me. I was a green hand, and I could feel my fear increasing. This was my dream, I -knew- it was my dream. There shouldn't be anything at all which pushed me out of power.

Only Morgan could shape the dream in any way. A quick scan of whatever I could see out in my surroundings showed not a single sign of the standing stones. I drew myself close to the ground as slowly something shifted out of the mist. It walked with a limp, its feet were wrong. Immediately a smell gripped my nostrils and I wretched at it. How could? Squinting I stepped back once as I felt my footing give way. Slipping, I flung out my right hand to catch myself, but the impact of the ground knocked the wind out of me.

"You," it groaned and the thing moved closer and suddenly as it came into view. I gasped loudly. It looked to be me, well I think it was me. I glanced at the doppelganger and my eyes widened. Its eyes were glassed over, and it brought a finger to its lips. The thing's skin was - dead, that was the only way to pull it. It appeared to be a zombie, but as the thing limped closer I could tell it wasn't any sort of the thing. One of the pauldrons on its shoulder was torn off revealing a gaping wound. Another wound appeared as gunshots through its middle. Two more steps and it was nearly towering over me.

Its hair was greasy and the skin on its face was completely weathered. A piece of her lip was missing. It let out a loud groan as it stared down at me and shushed me finally.

"Whaaaaaaat are you?!" I squeaked.

The thing shuddered slowly as it froze in place.

"Portent," it hissed through lips and with a voice that sounded broken.

"Okay?" I asked it.

"WARNING," it hissed as the helm covering its face fell off to reveal a gouge from a blade of some sort. One of its eyes fell out as it shook its face.

"STOP BEING FUCKING VAGUE YOU DAMN GAUNT!" I screamed as I felt my feet scrabble at the ground.

Suddenly, the thing lifted it's face up toward the sky as a flash of lightning struck. From its throat came a loud blood-curdling scream that filled the air. It seemed to cause the air around me to reverberate as the thing started to float in the air and its hair drifted in the wind. A whirlwind swept up from the ground beneath me as it turned its face and I noticed its dead eyes looking at me.

"It has come....one has died," it pointed at me and as I gaped at the thing it seemed to swim in the air as its body drifted away.

"Fuck....a..." I said carefully through my dread.

"A banshee, an ancient spirit of warning," said a voice above me and I craned my neck to see Morgan standing there behind me in all her glory.

"What is it doing here?" the keen was slowly dying down as I felt Morgan's hands pull me up.

"They follow people like me, and you, those attached to the land. When someone dies they appear, and they keen the coming," she said to me slowly. Her face was stern as the fog around us was slowly dispersing. I could tell something was wrong as Morgan placed a hand on my shoulder. Her normally pristine appearance seemed sallow and pale.

"What's going on?" I asked her as she turned me around to face her.

"Someone has died, my heart," she sighed, "someone by your hand."

I could only mouth 'no' as I shook my head. No, I couldn't be a killer, right?

 

---

 

Chapter 13 - Meaning of a Name

Dinner Time, November 4th, 2007 - Jameson Residence

Sophia awoke early that morning in a cold sweat, just as she did the night after the men attacked her family. One night in her mother's room and another on her own. Both nights she woke up screaming about men with guns breaking into her room and slipping a black hood over her head. The MCO was the bogeymen of her dreams just after she manifested. Corinne warned her of young mutants getting taken by the agents of the international agency and never being seen again. So, of course, she quietly quaked at what they could do. They almost took her new friend for gods sakes! Instead, it was the bastards of Humanity FIrst who now haunted her.

Instead of the Men in Black, she got the second coming of the Ku Klux Klan. There was no other way to describe Humanity First other than they lacked the white hoods and weird fetishes for burning crosses. As a Native woman, the event of what can only be described as a Night Ride was all more real. Saturday was nothing more than an impromptu therapy session with her grandfather. A man who'd been in more than one major villain fight, he was someone who could give her a sense of where to start. Her mother said she would offer the help herself, but something didn't feel right about what she said. Grandpa told her stories about his work with the Alliance, and fighting crime along the border. He told her about the early work operations with members of the DPA in the mountains against the Grand Hall of Sinister Wisdom.

"There are more than the MCO and Humanity First Lil' Wing," he said slowly, "I cannot lie to you about what lies ahead. But we can do our best to make sure that your trauma does not come to rule you."

Her mother didn't say much the Saturday after the attack and was mostly on the phone. Not long after a repair team arrived to replace the window and begin to clean up on the grounds. In between talking to Grandfather and her mom Sophia was pretty much adrift. Scared of her own shadow she just wanted for it all to be over and for life to go back to the way it had been.

Waking up on Sunday morning to the alarm set by her mother, and finding herself completely unprepared for another day she simply stared at the ceiling. What is wrong with me? I'm jumping at every sound. The nightmares won't stop and I don't want to leave my bed. What am I? A little kid? She pulled the blanket up tighter to her chin and let her body go slack. More staring at the ceiling and she started to count the cobwebs in her room. Right around the thirteenth she stopped and found her eyes being drawn to the outside. It was light out and she knew it was time to get up, the alarm had woken her up before she turned it off and sat there like a lump in her own bed.

Her moment of low motivation could only last for so long right? Rolling over to sit on her side she nuzzled into the pillow as she let the weight of her blankets press down to her.

"Lil' Wing, time to get up," came the loud knock at her door. The knock announced her mother's entry to her room.

"MOM!" she cried out and ducked her head under the covers. “I'm not getting out of-”

"Breakfast is ready, get your bum dressed or I'll come back with cold water." Her mother's words interrupted her train of thought.

"Fine, FINE!" she yelled loudly as her mom laughed and exited. Rolling out of bed a few minutes later she was able to shimmy into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top. Her body shivered in the cool November air as she thanked her mother and grandfather for not dropping the night temperature too much in the house. Already, the heat was kicking in as she could hear the rumble of the vents beneath her feet. Pulling a robe around her body she walked down the stairs out into the open hallway. Many of the pictures which once lined the walls were currently leaning against it on the stairwell. Others were off to the framer to be fixed.

The attack on the house had unsettled everything and upended her entire life. Now, only a few days to go, she would soon be off to a school more than a thousand miles away across the country. Sophia padded into the kitchen just as her grandfather was setting down a large pot of deer stew for breakfast. Her mother meanwhile was slicing pieces of bread and grilling them on the cooktop with butter. Texas toast and stew for breakfast was a time honored tradition in her family. Especially during winter where her mother's energizer body required large quantities of calories to maintain itself. Personally, she just loved eating venison after one of her cousins did the yearly cull to maintain the health of the prey population.

"What did you add this time grandpa?" she wondered aloud as he placed a bowl and spoon in front of her. Gerald could only smile at how his granddaughter was slowly returning to herself. Sophia was thinking quietly to herself about a similar thing. Maybe mom and grandpa are right, I can't just keep wallowing. But still...

"Deer meat and some elk from your cousins up in Nooksack," he replied. His brown eyes shined with mirth as he served her up a large heaping mix of potatoes and other vegetables mixed with thick chunks of meat.

"I love elk," she smiled before digging into the bowl. The simple spices made her mouth water and as she hungrily tore into the bowl her mother finished the bread. A pile of it was placed in a basket in the center of the open counter in front of her. The young teen was eager to get a second helping as she began eating a portion of the bread as well. Ten minutes into her dinner, her mother joined her while grandfather took care of the dishes. Gerald joined them not long after portioning out the last of the stew for himself and sat back while drinking a glass of milk. His long hair was freely falling down his shoulders with lines of grey running through it.

Laugh lines formed around his face as he offered a smile to his granddaughter and she returned it.

"Lil' Wing," her mother said suddenly, "We do have to talk about a few things."

Sophia frowned and nervously eyed both her mother and grandfather. Gerald crossed his arms to watch both of the women in his life.

"Your mother is right Sophia," he intoned, "we have spoken to someone at Whately Academy. They will help you find a therapist on campus to help."

"I don't want to see a shrink," she scoffed.

"They helped me," her mom said, her face tense, "after I left your father I needed someone to talk to."

Sophia eased up at hearing the words and listened.

"I needed someone who would listen, not shrink me, but listen and walk me through how not to let my experiences rule my life," her mother said poignantly.

"I don't want to be broken on the inside," she lamented.

"You aren't broken," her grandfather affirmed as he enveloped her in a hug, "you experienced a trauma. And, like anyone who experiences trauma you need help working through it."

"Okay," she said.

"Now listen," her mother told her, "There are a few you need to be careful around at school. The big school cliques, the Alphas, stay away from them. Keep your head down and try to avoid the bigger politics. Some of the worst supervillains have their kids there as well as the world’s most famous superheroes."

The teen listened for the next few minutes as her mom laid out the basics of what she'd already eavesdropped from the night before. She did that a lot recently just sat there and listened. It was something she was used to in her family. Her mother tried her best to not act like the overbearing mother. The few times she did get to see her dad he fit the role quite well. always asking her how she was doing in school, and if she'd made any decisions for college. Corinne did make decisions for her without any consultation, but her father demanded she gave up her childhood.

"Mom..." she spoke up suddenly.

"What honey?" her mom asked.

"Thanks for just....caring for me," she said as she gave her mother and then Grandfather a hug for a few minutes and her grandfather let her go, but not before giving her forehead a kiss.

Mid-Morning, November 5th, 2007 - Meche's Tailoring Shop

I never thought I would ever meet a banshee, and I never thought I would kill a man. Seeing that creature in my dreams, and then having its warning confirmed the next morning rocked me to the core. Mom found me screaming that night, and after I finally quieted down she didn't fall asleep at all. So, when she confirmed it after a call with Gerald Jameson all I could do was sob. I hadn't cried so hard in years, and when I was done my mom sat me down and I offered me some hot apple cider. After sipping it my parents did their best to inform me about what was going to happen this upcoming week. First, they were going to enroll me in a therapist on campus for Whately. Mom already spoke to the Jameson's who were doing the same.

It was good to know that both Sophia and I were now not just friends, but we'd both understand the wonderful world of no consent given therapy sessions! I love it when the adults in my life take my agency! It's for my own good, right?

"They mean well love, but your father and mother are just worried." I continued to mentally rant for about an hour after they informed me of that part of the schedule. In fact, they let me go for a run around the island after that and I did so. Being able to just speed along the road without too much worry helped me burn off my initial outrage. I decided thereafter to just return home at about mile four, and after jogging back I walked into the house at about the time my dad was finishing dinner. I barely noticed it was dark outside as I looked out and I gave a sheepish grin as dad shook his head.

"My daughter, the superhero to be who likes cheating death by wearing blackout and running in the middle of the road." He's not kidding I did that. I had run off in all black and didn't bother to carry a flashlight. My red mane sailed past my ears on the run and as I sat down to dig into a massive pile of tuna melts made by my dad I just listened. Or as my mom liked to say, "mouth closed, ears open."

After a bit of explaining dad told me mom would be taking me to a tailor the following day and after that the Alliance Headquarters. All I could do was a nod. I mean what else was I going to say? Please don't pay tons of money so I can go to a nice school? Yes, unthankful spoiled brat words straight out of the manual we're all given upon birth, right? I rolled my eyes internally and I could hear Morgan chuckling at my own self-awareness. I was trying to hide my own sense of denial in self-depreciation. A habit I wouldn't break for months or even years down the road.

So here we were, the tailor, a place called Meche's Tailor, and the woman who owned it named Cynthia was a pretty friendly middle-aged woman. She explained thoroughly what would be happening that day and that I wasn't the first student of Whately of hers to come in as a client. My eyes widened at the little revelation and I smiled. Who could it be? I was pretty sure Corrine Jameson, Sophia's mom, attended the school. Maybe even Gerald himself was an alumnus.

Mom and Cynthia chatted while I remained quiet and pretty much engrossed in my phone.

Grainne: I'm at the tailor, where r u?

Sophia: At the Alliance HQ, I'm going over school rules with mom.

Grainne: IS your MID ready?

Sophia: Yeah, my temp is done, and I even picked a codename! :)

Grainne: Oh? What did ye pick?

Both Sophia and I got into the habit of texting each other mostly during our respective downtime. It was a nice way to keep up. I hadn't even learned my class schedule yet, but the application package itself was hefty. Mom and dad sat me down at the computer to fill out most of the information. I still can't believe the amount of detail the application required, including a small essay about who I was. That was weird, I've never written an essay to get into a school before. They also asked me a few questions about my powers. It was all under a section for "powers testing preparation".

So I tried my best to describe what I could do, and what I remember they did for my initial testing. The very idea of having to go through the process all over again was, not high on my list to say the least.

Cynthia's purpose in all of this was to get the measurements I would need for my school uniform. One which I found to be a tad over the top. But, let's be honest, I think school uniforms are just an excuse to charge tons of money to my family for a few sets of clothes. My synthetic allergy was going to be a problem. I could barely wear anything not made from a organic fabric, and luckily my allergy wasn't a severe as some (as Corinne told me). This, of course, added weight to the already growing cost of my time at school. Mom decided to have most of the clothing made by a tailor located in the nearby town of Dunwich. A woman named Cecilia Rogers was the one my parents were commissioning for much of the cloth itself.

The measurements Cynthia took of me were to be transferred via email to Cecilia so that she would be able to produce most of my clothing for the upcoming semester. With that added to my already existing wardrobe I wasn't completely screwed. But, if I wanted things to be perfect I had to remain still. A small pinprick of pain drew a yelp as I jumped in the air.

"Please keep still miss O'Callaghan," Cynthia scolded me playfully.

I flushed pink in my cheeks and could only give a slow nod.

"I am sorry for the pin though, I moved it too far to the left," she said as she removed the pin and freed up her measuring tape.

"It's okay, my skin is a little over-sensitive," I blushed before closing my eyes. How much more of this would I have to undergo?

"Be patient, my heart. Once we are at this school we can train to defend ourselves."

Morgan was right, as she usually was. Focusing my mind I decided to consider what I was going to choose as my codename. Cynthia asked me to raise my arms and I let my mind wander for long enough I began to daydream. I imagined myself dressed as I usually did in my dreamscape. A brigandine coat covered my torso, and a half helm guarded my face. My long red hair was pulled into a tight series of braids from beneath my helm. Gazing across the bogland on the coast of what I assumed was Ireland I smiled.

"When my sisters and I went to war they gave us a name." Morgan appeared beside me in my daydream in her usual green dress. More than a head taller than me she placed her hand on my shoulder. It comforted me as I watched a small fox race after a rat across the bogland. Its red tail rose up as it bounced straight up into the air to land on the rat.

"It was the three of us Banba, Fódla, and Eriu. We left our forest and our families and became the Morrigna." Her grip tightened and I let my daydream self lean against her.

"Honey are you paying attention?" mom asked snapping me out of my dream. Morgan was gone leaving me in the small shop again wearing a skirt and a blouse. My recently shave legs had a few cuts from my first attempt, but I was proud I finally accomplished my next level in teenaged girl!

"Sorry, I was thinking about my codename," I replied meekly.

"Well, we're almost done here," Cynthia chirped as she was busily using a Gizmatic tablet to type out my measurements.

"So, sorry to ask but," I stressed the 'but' and gestured to my figure emphasizing my chest and behind to Cynthia. The older woman's reply was to burst out laughing as I blushed bright red. Hey, I was a girl for only a few weeks and I had no idea what my measurements were.

"You're a thirty-four B, twenty-four waist, thirty-four hips," she smiled. My face was a deep bright red as I could barely contain my embarrassment, but I was happy.

"Thank you very much, Cynthia," I was able to stammer after mom dragged me over to the cash register to pay the woman.

"You're welcome little Rose," she smiled at me and I gave her a confused look.

"You're mom said your middle name is Róisín," she said.

"Yeah, it is," I nodded. Mom was chuckling to herself at our interplay, and again I blushed in embarrassment.

"Cynthia, I think my daughter's head is going to explode either from the compliments or from embarrassment," Lynn O'Callaghan declared as I rolled my eyes. Mom was dramatic when she wanted to be and was where I learned my hard sense of sarcasm.

"My head isn't that big," I pouted.

"Not yet, little Rose," she smiled evilly at me using my new nickname.

"Mom!" I squeaked before I sighed. Mom's am I right? They love you and toss you under the bus as soon as they can.

Early Afternoon, November 5th, 2007 - Whatcom Alliance Headquarters

I was lost in thought for most of the drive north to the Alliance Headquarters paying little to no attention to whatever my mom was saying. Honestly, she wasn't really talking either. The last few days had definitely wounded my family's morale to a new level of strain. Mom was more protective than usual, keeping me within arms reach of her, and glaring at -anyone- who gave me a weird look. Luckily, except for my eyes, I could easily pass as a baseline if I didn't show off my strength. Yeah, the problem with my eyes were they glowed now. Yup, they glowed.

You see I grew up on stories where some of my favorite characters were psychics. My eyes gave off a strange aura, and if I moved in the night my reflection would actually show a flame-like energy-burning there. Morgan said it was the rage she's pent up for years slowly leaking out of me. I think it's the essence I'm taking in and my body decides to show off by having it flame up in my eyes. One random person said I had the "geas" of the fae in me. I tilted my head when he said this in passing while we were walking back to the car from the tailor.

"Weirdo," I scoffed just an hour ago.

But you know what, I'm not so sure. I'm definitely not magically gifted as I barely rate as a Wizard 1 from what Sophia relayed to me after seeing my initial results. "If you name yourself something eyes, I'm going to leave your body." Morgan's sense of humor had grown or should I say darkened over the last few days. This is where my constant silence began an ongoing debate about what my codename was going to be.

I began thinking of naming myself War Song, and of course, Morgan pointed out that Blizzard's World of Warcraft wasn't a good source of names. Shrugging it off easily, I went through another five names before finding myself at a complete creative block. By the time I was completely out of my internal wanderings I was on auto-pilot and closing the car door. The pleated skirt around my legs kicked up and I moved to shove it back down. While I loved the free feeling of dresses and skirts, I hate the fact one wrong gust of wind gives everyone a glance at my underwear. I now understood why in the world anime girls were so damn angry about their skirts. Who wants to know about my preference for purple boyshorts, because I really only want ME to know this fact alone.

I found myself in the office this time, a small building located to the left as you entered the lobby. Much like most offices it for some reason had a small window looking out into the lobby. Inside I found several filing cabinets all organized along the far wall. To the right were three desks each dedicated to where one of the logistics staff usually worked. I found a seat just past the doorway by a desk set aside for RavenWing. Another had a small placard for Ogun, and the third was for someone named Agent Jimenez.

There was lettering under the name and I squinted to make it out. "Special Liaison Office for the Department of Paranormal Affairs". My eyes widened, an actual agent of the DPA worked here? I mean it made sense at least one government official in the area. I mean there wasn't another super team for most of the state outside of the teams in Seattle. A single mug of coffee still steaming hot remained on the desktop meaning its owner was just out for a few minutes.

The smell of fresh black coffee made my stomach gurgle as I realized I needed to eat soon. Mom glanced at me from where she stood reading through an email on her phone. A faint smile of shame graced my lips as a man brushed past us and went straight to the desk holding the mug. He was a dark-skinned man, short, and at first glance, I assumed he was Hispanic. His eyes though were ocean blue, and a faint mustache covered his upper lip. He was short-statured, probably shorter than me, but each move he made spoke of years of training.

This guy was a real-life James Bond type, hell I could hear the theme music playing as he just sipped his coffee like a pro. Not long after mom stepped aside this time and Gerald appeared with Sophia in tow. Both appeared a little frazzled with Sophia yawning just after entering the room.

"Ah now that we're all here we can get this done," Agent Jimenez spoke. I assumed he was Agent Jimenez because it was a cardinal sin in Washington State to steal another's coffee.

"Yes, Sophia has already chosen her codename," Gerald replied and he patted his granddaughter on the back.

"DuskWing," she stated with a shrug. I looked at her and before I could reply she said, "If you make a Darkwing Duck joke I will sew your lips shut."

"I wasn't going to at all jeez!" I sighed before singing, "Daring Duck of Mystery!"

Mom just laughed as she shook her head, Sophia instead of rounding on me laughed out loud herself. It made sense, we were going to a High School so having a sense of humor about her codename choice was a good starter.

"Alright," Jimenez said as he leaned over a small printer and a little card popped out. Furrowing my brow in wonder I watched as he walked over and handed the card to her.

"This is your Probational MID which you'll get replaced at Whately once their power's testing lab completes the job," he said simply.

"I'm a Wizard 3 and an Exemplar 1?" she asked staring at the piece of plastic.

"Uh," I said raising my hand. Those piercing blue eyes and solemn impatient faced were now aimed at me.

"You pick a codename yet Miss O'Callaghan?" he asked me.

"Um, no can you give me a few minutes," and I could see his eyes roll.

"Yes, I need to call my partner, we have an Irish woman to babysit in Seattle," he laughed before walking out of the room.

Everyone turned to stare at me, and I fidgeted in my seat. This was the moment in the drama where everyone expected me to act scared and I was. There was no hiding it, I was completely dumbfounded about what I was going to call myself.

"This is silly expecting a child to select a name for themselves. My sisters and I were given our names and not all of them we liked." Morgan the ever stoic highlander woman in my head added her two cents.

"Yeah, well," I said.

"Well, what?" Mom asked.

"Oh I was thinking out loud," I said. I mean, how do you tell your mom you were a glowing-eyed faery woman because you actually bonded with one. Oh yeah, mom, you see I met a woman in my dreams and she said she could make me a girl. There would be a very long heated debate where I'd be reminded that I shouldn't make deals with cosmic entities.

"Sounded like you were talking to someone." She said and sat down in the seat beside mine.

"Ye canna hide me forever." I swear she purposely trilled her accent up when she wanted to play Obi-wan.

"So um mom," I began, "I...kind of am bonded to a spirit."

Mom's face went from concerned to confused. She glanced at me before Gerald rubbed his jaw in that usual "I'm thinking" gesture people liked to do.

"So you're an avatar," he said and then added, "A mutant who can host a spirit."

"You're saying my daughter is possessed," Mom answered.

"Not possessed, bonded, Spirits are limited from what I understand," he offered. Mom didn't appear entirely convinced as she turned and let out a demonstrative sigh.

"She...she made me who I am mom," I replied plaintively.

"Okay, okay," she held up her hands to placate me inhaled to calm herself. "I'm guessing the Academy knows more, so when you take her there Gerald please ask if there is some sort of brochure-like 'So your child is a mystical spirit host', I can read."

Dad was likely going to get a kick out of mom's reaction. Out of my parent's mom always came off as the most assertive and aggressive. She told me it came from years growing up in parts of Tacoma as a child. It made sense, she lost her mom as a kid and unlike didn't have the easiest time growing up. Dad reflected this almost entirely. He was quiet, and easy going and when pushed easily exploded if he didn't like the way things went. It was my mom's aggressiveness and my dad's anger which led to my "Scandinavian rage" as my mom called it.

"You aren't Loki come again little one, lying isn't one of your skills." Again, the wise woman speaks the truth and I put my mind to what I needed to decide, my codename. Since I had the weird eyes I considered calling myself Faerie Fire before I heard an unapproving chuckle from Morgan.

Jimenez returned and let out a loud yawn while waving his hand in front of his face.

"Sorry about that, apparently my partner almost lost sight of our charge, and she ended up getting caught up by a pack of reporters," shaking his head he grasped his mug to drink more of his coffee.

"It was like seeing crows crowding over a fresh piece of roadkill," he said after setting down his cup once again.

Now that little line from Jimenez helped. Digging into my beloved hobby of reading random online resources of mythology and folklore something came to me.

"The raid on Cúalṅge, I remember that story. I did appear as a crow to warn that stupid idiot calling himself the bull." I smiled, if I was going to be tied to a spirit steeped in mythology why not embrace it.

"Scald-Crow," I said speaking up.

"A what now?" Jimenez asked.

"It's a banshee-like omen, it signals oncoming battle and misfortune." Not going to bring up the death part, but I mean if I'm going to be some fighter why not be the one that end's the fight right?

"Okay, weird, but okay," Jimenez said, and I could tell this was his every day. Like before he entered some information on the little card printer and a few moments later it spat out another probationary MID. Mine was a little different than Sophia's as the man handed me the card I noticed my ratings.

"Initial tests say you're an Exemplar 3, but your healing suggests Exemplar 4. Also, nice try on hiding being an avatar, but we have the latest information from ARC this week," the man smiled at me. My eyes finally fell on the rating of Wizard 1. Wait, I was an uber strong teenager, but a shitty ass witch? "Heh, you didna ask for the magic lass."

She was right, our deal was I was to be the girl I wanted to be. Not the magical witch, the brightest of my age. I was Supergirl, not Hermione Granger.

Chapter 14 - In Nemain’s Shadow

Early Evening, November 5th, 2007 - Harborview Hospital

Oi, mother mary and by the saints in heaven, please God grant me the strength to not murder an American journalist. Her anger rippled off her form as she stalked down a side alley to break away from the pack following her. One was holding a KONG labeled speaker another a KING-5 one. From only a day in the city of Seattle, she'd easily identified the major local news outlets via a few cursory minutes watching her hotel's Television. Even as she ducked further into the alley she could hear a few of them scrambling to figure out where she went. The alley trick was not likely going to work, but as they drew closer she heard the sound of, "DPA, desist or you will face federal charges."

"You can't silence the truth?" said one voice which she guessed was a reporter, and a third yelled something about government overreach. Yeah, course you say that. But when there's stuff like Humanity First bullshit, ye dun care. A regional news outlet up north had reported on the death of a prominent community figure a few counties north of Seattle. Turned out the bastard was also a bigwig in the local H1st chapter and got his arse handed to him. She canted her head as her handler for her trip to America appeared. One Agent Jimenez, and his partner, Agent Fanous, was always at her side to some point.

The tall sepia skinned woman reeked of professionalism, and even when she was cracking a joke at her partner, she rarely showed anything beyond a light smile. Her long black hair was usually tied in a bun at the base of her neck while a Coptic cross hung around her neck. Even as she moved the woman's energy screamed federal agent. Her steps were poised like a runway model and her face was always set in a mask of detached impartiality. To her, Maeve was part of the job, and in her tailored grey suit, she was here to get the job done.

She's got to be an exemplar at least a level one or sometin! Maeve wracked her brain the first few nights as her room lay silent after she’d arrived.

When she saw both agents reappear, she let out a visible demonstrative sigh.

"One would think you'd stay nearby us, Second Lieutenant Maguire," Fanous chided her. Brown eyes beneath arched manicured brows swept upward as the judgment of the Egyptian-American only seemed to increase by the moment.

"Yeah, well, I need some air since yer not lettin' me near where my sister died," she calmed herself to keep her sharp tongue in check.

Verbally sparring with Agent Jimenez was one thing, and going up against the serene 'standing bitch face' of Agent Kasrin Fanous was a terrifying prospect to the Irishwoman.

"I was busy up north, some kid needed a rush job on her temporary MID," Jimenez said in passing.

They were right outside Harborview Hospital, and after dodging the reporters the chase took the trio a block away. Now they were slowly making their way back as the two DPA Agents expounded upon the importance of a 'low profile' to one 'Hurricane Maeve'. She was a military specialist trained to deal with terrorist cells and to disarm violent mutant magic users. Cloak and dagger was something she played well at, but not when she had a pack of reporters obviously tipped off to her arrival. All she wanted to do was get away from the reporters and continue the journey back to the primary West Hospital building of Harborview Medical Center. Her eyes rolled as a car sped past them, a bright red pickup truck which almost ran a red light on Ninth Avenue.

Right before them, the street continued past the massive Jefferson Building to her right and a smaller unnamed building to her left. Quickly, she picked up speed on the pavement as her black ballerina flats barely made a sound. Her ever-present shadows only added to her urgency to get to the hospital so she could get a clue to her sister's killer. Maeve's long dark hair was blown in the wind as the stormy grey sky above her threatened to unleash a torrent of rain down upon her. Just like home. She smiled to herself as she prepared to step off the sidewalk onto the street. Carefully honed instincts from years dashing across streets from Galway to Dublin primed her for ready to dash across the perils of American traffic.

She glanced both ways and stepped out. However, just as she took three steps she heard a roar of an engine, witnessed a flash of red and only just in time jumped back as the red truck from early nearly collided with her. Instead of being sent flying across the street she felt the torrent of air as the car zipped in front of her and collided with a traffic light. The screeching of breaks signaled an attempt by the driver to stop. The poor sod reacted too slow as his entire front caved in and the windshield of the car cracked as it impacted against the pole. The base of the traffic light groaned as it bent inward forcing the light to fall forward.

A body lay on the ground bleeding out after being ejected by the impact. Maeve raced over as several people from inside the nearest hospital building soon joined her. One glance at the driver, a young caucasian male with brown hair, and stereotypical frat lad look. She grimaced as she checked for his pulse and found none. His head was smashed open, and the gore of his brain matter was slowly coagulating in his brown hair. Both passengers were dead, and it felt almost if they had implicitly aimed to hit her.

Maeve stepped back as she considered what she could do. Hmmm, it can't be, can it? Simple logic would tell her that the poor idiots had made a coincidental decision to turn around and speed their way back. She walked around to the back of the truck. Like any American pickup truck it was large, and obviously a statement of one's male virility. That was what they did right? She cocked an eyebrow as she spread her hand over the truck's partially intact flatbed. Essence bled into the spell as she mumbled out the words in Irish.

"Nocht a rún," she uttered the command and waved her hand over the empty black plastic bed. Nothing happened, at first, she walked to the left coming toward the rear left wheel. Suddenly, a small tingling occurred along with her hand at the point of a small silver ring on her left hand. As she concentrated she held the hand out palm flat as she moved it back and forth over the wheel until she found the location with the most intense feeling. She ceased the spell and reached inside just above the wheel. Her fingers found a small package and as she removed it she felt a charge of negative energy shoot up her arm. It was akin to being shocked, and made her arm ache as she picked up the object and held it in her hand.

A hex bag, or a ramshackle version of one from what she could tell. The 'bag' itself was made of a small kidskin leather pouch. Carefully she set it down and stared at it. There was a barest hint of bad luck tied to the bag and as she thought about opening it she sighed. Her ingredients were mostly back in her hotel as today was just suppose to be a basic scrying. Who knew whoever she tracked would play their hand so quickly. Maeve usually kept a purified silver knife on her person for such occasions and as she withdrew said knife from her back jean pocket she fingered it. The knife blade was made of high-quality silver and was regularly cleansed in ritual water. Then there was the white oak handle to complete the evil slicing combination, and she had it as a basic folding-blade.

Thank ye to all the Gentry for simple forward-thinking. She laid the hex bag onto the plastic truck bed and muttered a few small words of prayer. A flick of her wrist sent the knife's blade outward and she carefully drew it along the cardinal directions, and finally invoked the name Saint Brigid as an extra precaution. After finishing her incantation she felt the air around her go still as others were already inspecting the bodies of the two men. She drew the knife across the twine holding it shut and sliced it open enough to peek at the contents. Inside was a long piece of blackened quartz almost rotted completely through. Wrapped around it was a string of mistletoe. Maeve made a quick judgment and used the knife to nudge the vine apart, as she thought there was something else inscribed upon the crystal.

This magic bound many different things together, and reminded her of the witchcraft she once faced against a mercenary from Germany. It was almost all the same down to one single difference. The hex bag, in that case, used the double thunderbolts of Thor in an attempt to electrocute her to death, and this one was quite different. No, this crystal had the Kenaz rune, the rune of Loki the Trickster. It meant knowledge, and intuition, but combined with the mistletoe the plant used to slay Baldr God of light in Norse Mythology.

"Clever girl," she growled as she flipped the knife back into its handle. She had a basic idea of who would invoke a God of Chaos and a powerful Symbol of darkness tricking the light. It was a simple spell of diversion, and yet she knew of only a handful of practitioners who were foolish enough to use it.

"I'll find you - ye damn slag," she said before she placed the knife in her back jean pocket. Agent Jimenez finally decided to approach her at that moment as he read her sharpened focus.

"Was this related to your sister?" he put the pieces together as her expression gave away by the cogs working in her head.

"Yes, same magic, or at least someone associated. This car was suppose to hit me, but since they put it in place to activate when I walked by instead of direct it themselves they missed," she explained clinically.

"Your government forbade anyone, but you to do this search, so I trust you know what you are doing." He gave a wave of his hand as she stopped for a moment.

Something was still off. Much like a cop straight out a of hardboiled noir book she felt a tingling in her gut. Her eyes swept the scene one more time and she considered destroying the hex bag. Even if she sliced it open the rune would continue to attract bad luck and jinx whoever was foolish enough to touch it. I'll need ash from a Rowan, and need to get some iron, probably a horseshoe. The woman's mind alit with thoughts as she tabulated the necessary ingredients for the proper purging. The amount of work alone was going to set her back a day or two not including the legwork to get the damn ingredients.

A pinch of moly would do the trick, if she still had that damn Rowan ash!

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Agent Fanous hovered on the edge of her vision, and she groaned. Please don't tell me I have to fill out paperwork cuz some stupid bint tried to kill me with a hex bag. Feckin' Yank Bureaucracy!

Maeve shook her head and released the bridge of her nose as that tingling in her gut popped up again. Cocking an eyebrow she uttered her spell once again and this time she didn't move her hand. Silent casting and whispering the words often dampened the spell's effectiveness. It's all in me head anyway. Walking around the truck one last she didn't feel the unease in her gut nor did the ring on her finger give off any feeling.

"Are we done here?" Agent Jimenez asked appearing behind her.

Immediately, as the man drew near to her the sensation in her ring returned. Rather than tingling the feeling traveled directly to her heart as a wave of depression swept over her. Maeve pinched her nose again so that the ring directly faced Agent Jimenez. The man appeared impatient about her lollygagging, and just as the ring pointed at his face she felt a surge of emotions. Rage, vengeance, along with inadequacy and much more. It wasn't the agent's actual emotions. Her eyes narrowed, she recognized the taste of the aura her ring was feeding to her.

Breaking off the spell, she knew she had to think. The miasma of her working would likely decay quickly as she used a little essence to reveal the aura attached to the man. Jimenez kept his gaze on her while she gathered up the hex bag and was handed an evidence bag by Agent Fanous.

"I need ta see the hospital room," she stated, "and as soon as possible."

Yes, and I need ta find out why my sister's Spirit left an auric trace on the agent. She smirked to herself at finally getting a lead in her case, and a small tinge of joy came to her. If the Spirit had found a new host she could be tracked. The Emerald Soul, could tell her who killed Sinnead, and bring the vile magician to justice.

Early Morning, November 7th, 2007 - Kings Street Station

The sun gave me no respite that morning, it somehow found a hole in my curtain and landed it's bright burning rays upon my eyes. I woke irritated, and as the wonder of attending a new school hit me like a punch to the face I was wide awake. The night before I'd tossed and turned as the anxiety of the trip across the country to go to 'boarding school' came closer and closer. I could say I hadn't felt uneasy, but it was a bald-faced lie. My life became a quick blur of constant events as the rush of change tore into my life like a hungry dog. Sitting up in my bed I winced at the cool concrete of my basement room floor. Already the space heater was kicking on to reheat the room after being off for more than a few hours.

I heard the steady "THUNK" of my father splitting a piece of wood to restart the fire for the morning. Breakfast was a bowl of oatmeal, a plate of bacon, and a large quantity of juice. I ate it all in only a few minutes and could almost feel my body digesting it by the minute. The charge of energy would last me long enough for the two-hour drive to Seattle.

"The winds of destiny be callin' little Draoi."  Morgan's voice crooned in my mind, and I could tell she wanted to tell me something. I decided to use the upstairs bathroom. A last-minute shower to clean out my hair and get me ready for the long cross-country ride. Looking around I dropped my towel on the ground. My family's shower was built of a wood frame covered in tile. The greenness of it was astounding, and as I ran my hands over the glass blocks that formed the wall I smiled. Inside it was big enough for three people to stand, and I traced a hand over the cool red interior tile.

"What ye wan Morgan?" I asked her aloud, and I noticed a sudden shapeshifted beyond the glass. Immediately, I shook my head and turned on the water to let the heat wash over me. Soaping my hair now took far longer than it did, but when I washed out the hair mask after shampooing I was overjoyed. Proper hair care was important to a girl, and mom had carefully schooled me in the care of my bright red locks.

"I can feel your strength returning little Draoi after so long we are almost ready for what awaits." My spirit sounded far more confident than she had been. After fifteen minutes I stepped from the shower and toweled off my hair, and my body. I glanced at the shifting hair falling over my shoulders as I turned around to moisturize my face.

Upon seeing the mirror my image stared back. A pair of emerald-colored eyes that faintly glowed with a burning intensity. It reminded me of my favorite video games, and as I leaned forward I smiled at the small bronze ring near my cornea. Skin the color of porcelain and pinked with the flowing of blood. I smirked and revealed my rosebud lips, and opened my mouth to smile widely. The day after the attack my front canines had fallen out to be replaced by a pair of sharpened ones. Honestly, my pale skin, and reddened lips, plus the actual teeth did make me look vaguely predatory. I leaned forward to marvel at random freckles which covered my face, nose, and jawline.

Unlike some redheads, I wasn't 'dusted' with freckles, and my skin while yes pale, held a healthy hue to it. Each movement I made showed the muscles used to make my curves, and to give me the strength I exuded.

"Impressive," a voice said from the mirror. and as I moved I saw her, Morgan. Just like from my dream she stood there leaning forward in the mirror, and her eyes blazed brighter than my own. As she moved, I felt a small rapture grow in my chest as I placed my hands on the edge of the granite sink top.

"Ye look fantastic," I chortled to her.

"As do you my heart, as fine as any lass who graced the sweepin' lands of Merica an Eirinn." I hugged myself as the joy spread through me and I gave a cant of my head.

"Much is ahead of us my beloved, as you host me, I will as we grow stronger lend you more of my power." She said as I wrung my hands together a small bit of unease coming to me.

"What...do you want in return?" I finally inquired.

"You have saved me, my heart, you give me a second chance to right the wrongs done to me and mine. For this I am eternally grateful."

I could tell then she was telling me the truth. Morgan hid from me many things and yet, I knew she never said a thing that was meant to cause me harm. Now that I was fed and showered, I snuck downstairs to wear the freshly laid out dress mom picked out. Strangely enough,  Sloan had suggested the small peplum dress, the color of my hair, and just tight enough. Not a pure body-con, the dress had the small frame all like it did, and it ended in a nice clear-like lace. The bodice itself ended a few inches above my cleavage for a tasteful look, and yet emphasized my newly gained exemplar figure.

Along with my quirky little bull-dog headed purse, I struck a memorable figure. Leaving my hair free I helped dad load the last of my mass of luggage into the car as mom handed me a massive mug of coffee to drink. The energy from the coffee eased my mind as all of us piled into the car. We caught the early Seven AM Ferry, and as we left on the opposite side I waved to the crew.

"Bye guys! See you in a few months," I called out as the captain leaned out from the piloting tower to return my wave.

Driving to Seattle was a long boring affair and I soon found myself lost in the student handbook. Yeah, I know, I'm a nerd, sue me. I was reading the damn thing not to be a good girl, no I was reading it because I wanted to know which rules they were likely to enforce. Which were likely to be ignored, and which I could find my ass handed to me over. The experiences shown to me in High School over the years, plus a long-standing love of history had taught me a thing or two.

A fool knows how to play by the rules. A clever girl knows how to play the rules.

Maybe this is why whenever I assign an alignment to myself in 3.5 edition in Dungeons and Dragons I was chaotic neutral. I mean, I tried my best to stick to rules, and yet, I saw no reason to bend them to make it easier on everyone. Now, I am completely new as a Dungeon Mistresses, but as someone who reads doorstopper novels for kicks, I think have a good sense in my pretty head.

"A new chapter dawns, my heart." Morgan's words crooned in my head as I watched the landscape of Whatcom and later Skagit county whiz by. I could feel the growing anticipation as every town came and went.

"What do you feel lays before us?" I asked her in a whisper. Sloan didn't register me talking to myself and nor did my parents.

"And those who were seen dancing thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music." She quote to me.

"What?" I asked quizzically.

"Friedrich Nietzsche, a man who was far ahead of his time. Maybe not the most accurate, but his words are apt for this moment." Morgan spoke quietly and I could see the outline of her form reflecting to me in the window. "You are a beautiful soul, my heart, you hold so much potential. I can only hope whatever aid I render in our upcoming life together finds you successful."

"Thank you," I smiled and turned to face forward. My parents were busily discussing a few things. I tried to listen in a few times and all I could make out was. "Therapy" and "Training" was all I could make out as mom gave me a stern look for trying to eavesdrop. Failing in my spy attempt I closed my eyes to let the rest of the ride to the station give me some peace.

Arriving in Seattle proper, you know past Stanwood and finally we were passing the mall at Northgate. The traffic gods were in our favor as my dad zoomed carefully with precision from lane to lane. Years of life in Seattle taught my father how to move among the growing chaos of the traffic. Twenty minutes later we were pulling off at the exit and were slowly driving through the streets of downtown. Boulevard passed by fast as we rounded through the streets beyond high rise and boutique shops. My life was speeding up it seemed, and all I could do was hold on for dear life.

"When we marched to war, me mam kissed me cheek and bade me good luck. We do this together as sisters." I could feel Morgan as I shifted my body and cracked my neck. Newfound confidence lit along my limbs and I licked my sharpened teeth. The world lay ahead of me and I was going to tear into it with determined gusto.

"Kings Street Station," mom said aloud, and I stared into the mirror from her window cover. Mom's kind green eyes were filled with tears as my emotions suddenly built. Did I mention I feel things harder? Yeah, when I'm sad, I am really sad. It's profound, and just as my dad stopped the car I leaned over and hugged my sister.

"What's happening? Why are you touching me? MOM! Grainne's lost it!" Sloan protested in jest. I laughed with her as her smile told me how serious she was.

"We need an adult, I can't stop myself!" I jeered and pulled my younger sister into a hug. Today, she wore her stereotypical Hot Topic form. A pair of black hip-hugger pants with black hanging suspender belts, a black crop top, and of course black platform boots. She even had on black lipstick to complete her ensemble.

"You two," mom sighed as we both exited the car and I closed the door carefully. All of my confidence surged forward as I walked to my mom nearby and hugged her as hard as I could without hurting her. Pulling away I let her plant a kiss on my forehead and I gave a hug to my dad after he unloaded my luggage. Two large suitcases, my backpack, and a large carry-on roller case.

Each case in hand and my dad pulling the small roller I glanced up at Kings Street Station. A beautiful light bricked plaza lay at my feet filled with chairs for a small cafe located just inside the station. The station itself was a neatly built square redbrick building tapering to a small steppe pyramid roof. Atop in large metal letters the sign read "Kings Street Station" about twenty to thirty feet above the plaza. To the right as I waited was the long row of train tracks and the platforms for waiting passengers. The strangely eye-catching light grey pavement was brightened by the appearance of a bright fall day sun.

My dad started walking first, pushing us all to the inevitable end of this chapter of our lives. A few feet in front of the front doors we met up with the Jamesons. Corrine, ever the stylish mother wore a green dress over a pair of black leggings, and a leather jacket. By her side was Gerald, brown leather jacket over a black button-down shirt and jeans. Sophia matched her mom in a dress, leggings, and a denim jacket. Altogether I felt a little underdressed by both, but I decided to just run with it. The cool air of the autumn day made my bare legs become covered in goosebumps.

"Looking good lil Rose," Corinne said to me as she offered my mother a hug. Gerald and my dad started to discuss the travel times of the upcoming train as well as break the school offered between classes. My backpack slung over my left shoulder and my purse along with it I followed Corinne and Sophia into the building. I looked above me and watched the form of the massive clock tower nearby disappear from sight. A thirty-foot vaulted ceiling and beautiful white painted walls replaced it.

I followed the two over to a row of connected brown leather chairs. Finding my place I sat down and decided to rest my feet while Gerald and dad continued to talk. From what I could make out, we'd transfer onto one other train once in Boston which would then take us to the Dunwich Station in New Hampshire. It seemed pretty straight forward to me, as I pretty much decided to just wait. The two passed a few papers between the two of them and I noted Sophia's gaze lingering on her smartphone. I considered just losing myself in a book on my own but instead decided to just observe the world around me.

Dad handed me a ticket not long after and I noted the departure time, only about ten minutes away. I inhaled as I rose up and gave my father a hug and he whispered, "I love you dearest."

Tears filled my eyes as my emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Two baseline teenaged boys watched me as I pressed my face into my father's shoulder and cried. I didn't want to leave my home and family or let that bastard Dickinson control my life to the degree he did. Circumstances were not so kind, however, and Ferndale High School was closed to me. The friends of the men I fought against last Friday were already doing their best to make my family's life a living hell.

"Dickinson's widow has already tried to press charges three times against your daughter," Gerald informed us all.

"How goes the lawsuit?" I asked carefully.

"Good, the fact that Brad's father was present at the night ride is more than enough evidence to show malice." That was good right? My family was already watching their backs and thinking of increasing security. If Gerald could financially bleed the Finkbonners and the school maybe some of my suffering could be alleviated.

"More than good, when we got them to release you I already had more than enough evidence. This new addition shows that the family is out for blood. With all of it tied up in public appearances, plus their own patriarch being so reckless they'll be begging for a cash settlement." Gerald rubbed his hands together as I smiled. It was good to hear that after so much my family was going to finally get something out of this entire ordeal.

"It's better to let the enemy hang themselves my heart, or let them fall into a trap than play their game," Morgan purred. She was right, and as I realized it this was how I would have to be in my life. For years others stole from me the simplicity of choice. Yeah, let's get the hyperbole aside, I could decide how I dressed, or what I said. But in the greater scheme of things I couldn't present myself as a girl without fear of being harmed. Throughout my life until I made a deal with Morgan I didn't have the power necessary to stand up against cruel fate.

I stared off into space for a moment, as I felt the world melt away for just a second. Another daydream as I found myself standing at the edge of a vast forest. Three women stood with their backs to me, each wearing a dress similar to what Morgan always sported. One was dark green, another scarlet, and the final one a blue of the ocean. As I watched the tallest of the three the one in green turned away from the others and faced the forest. She was redhaired, and her eyes the color of burning emeralds. But, it wasn't Morgan. It was someone else.

Just as the woman glanced my way she turned and the three began to shrink as they drew farther and farther away. Just as I was about to call out to them I heard the call for boarding. My eyes snapped me back into reality as Sophia waved at me to get my attention.

"Hey, dreamer girl, we gotta go!' she giggled as she picked up her luggage. It came, the last goodbye between myself and my family. Sloan was the first to hug me and whisper "give ‘em hell" in my ear, and dad was the last. Mom's hug was perhaps the strongest as I tried not to break into sobs.

Five minutes passed as the last call for boarding came. An angry rail employee dressed in the blue waistcoat and white shirt uniform of Amtrak nearly yelled at us to board. Finally, I pulled everything on board as my bags and carryon were stowed in my sleeper car. It was a rush, a blur of motion as I couldn't contain my thoughts and as per usual saw myself lost in them. As I kept repeating to myself - this was a new chapter of my life. So many questions rushed in front of me. What was I going to learn? Who did I want to be when I got there? All I knew is one thing, I now had a voice in what was going to happen. I had the power to change my fate, and by the wyrd, nothing was going to stop me.

 

 

---

 

Chapter 1 - Beginning Rotation

Noon, November 10th, 2007 - Miskatonic Valley, NH

Scald-Crow
I thought the trip aboard a train would be without any problems. But, I should already know by now, I was a child who drew the ill-luck of Loki himself to my side. The trip itself had been completely quiet, and all I had to do was make the last few hours from Boston to the Dunwich station. Sure, I'd seen a few things in the last few days, but I had paid them no mind. The shape of a cat shifting around in the shadows as I walked down deserted quiet train cars. The large form of a black dog in others. Each and every time I only saw them in passing. In the corner of my eye and never clear.

Mirrors were the worst. I swore every few times I gazed in one I would catch that black-haired girl watching me. Her hood covering her face as her lips were visible pulled into a tight pained line. The night before I woke today, she'd been there just as I left, and this time I swore I saw a single burning eye from the darkness of her hood. She was mouthing something, and when I turned around to look again she was gone.

"Don't touch me!" the words leaped from my mouth as I bared my teeth at the older teen who dared to touch my ass. Every piece of me felt violated as the gawky teen jumped back. My reflection showed the small fiery glow beating in my eyes as I turned away and covered my face.

"Jeez, calm down, girl," the kid said as he held up both hands.

"Hey, shit brains, back off!" Sophia added as she strolled across the observation car. We were both in the lounge just trying to kill time instead of remaining in our seats. The kid’s heavy Southie accent didn't help as I glared at him.

"Ye touch me gain, ye damn bloody shite, I'll rip off yer face!" I screeched at him. It was at this point he made his retreat and I felt my hands start to shake. Images flashed in my vision as I had the sudden feeling of large hands grasping my own and pushing me down to my knees. A small whine escaped from my lips as my breathing increased and my heart pounded in my ears.

"Please, no," I whimpered as more images came and I found myself pressed up against the wall of the lounge.

"Gráinne, he's gone, breath with me," Sophia's voice broke through the fog of panic.

"Oh me goddess," I shook. Her arms were around me as I closed my eyes.

"I'm here for ye lass. Breathe, he and the others are gone." The ghostly arms of Morgan encircled my body as I felt a few small sobs wrack my body.

Ever since I put distance between me and my family the panic attacks had grown more common. When I had been home I'd been able to rush to my mom or my dad to work me through the worst of it. But being out of my element and the safety of my family home only made things worse. I had to put physical distance between myself and others. Any man or boy who came near me, I immediately backed away if I didn't know them. At least two feet between me and anyone was enough for me to maintain my sanity.

Between this and the weird moving shadows following me I was pretty sure I was losing it. Sophia led me from the observation car and through the shifting doors connecting our car with the lounge. Just before the doors slid shut, something darted out from between the legs of two passengers. I didn't even see it until I was in our car and once again caught a sudden movement seen from the corner of my eye.

"Old things left to sleep are waking up again. My own slumber sealed them, and now they sense me as we draw closer to the school." Morgan's portents were getting more commonplace and at times more confusing. The spirit held a definite level of obfuscation only an ancient entity like herself could. I swore a faerie was dwelling in my skull, and at any moment she was going to appear like Gandolf in The Hobbit and ask me to steal from a dragon.

"Not a bad book, but no, I'm not ready to tell you about dragons just yet. Or what lays before us."

"You've been sayin' that fer the last three days," I said.

"I have not the strength to reveal more yet, my heart, the murder of Sinead drained much of my essence," Morgan had explained the situation more than once. An attack that murdered her previous host left her near oblivion until we had bonded. One reason my changes were so extensive was that she needed a tighter bond to recover. Still, I wish she would drop the Jedi Master trope and just tell me what her plans were.

"When I can, and when we are safe, I will discuss the future with you." I gave a roll of my eyes and shook my head. All I could do was get to Whateley and go to school. RIght?

"Just two more stops..." the train slowed as we reached another station in the line. The last few steps for our seats weren't far away and I returned to find Sophia reading another book. This was one of the assigned reads from the magic class her mother bought beforehand.

"What are you learning today Soph?" I asked her. The native girl looked up, raised her chocolate brown eyes as a smirk came to her lips.

"Not much, just reviewing since I'm behind in class. The message Professor Grimes sent ahead to mom was pretty extensive of what I would need to prepare for the end of term," she told me.

From what I could figure Sophia had already registered for classes. Of the two of us, she had the most experience to fall back upon. Both Corinne and Gerald were assisting my family with my new mutant status, but I could tell mom was struggling in a few places. I mean she's gone from loving the X-Men as a kid to having one as a kid. A real mind break there, am I right?

I let myself go limp in my seat and I closed my eyes. A feeling of being watched from across the car caused me to snap them open a few minutes later to land a glare there. Nothing was watching me, of course, and in response, I gave an angry snort. Sophia eyed me from where she sat and shook her head.

"I keep seeing things!" I grumbled.

"Welcome to having witch senses, I see things too, but I'm not dramatic about it," she replied coolly.
She had me there. I was making a deal out of it to some degree. The anxiety of a change and not being in my comfort zone was definitely turning it all up to eleven.

"I'm only a Wiz 1, how in the world am I seeing things you don't?" I inquired.

"I'm not the one bonded to what might be a war god," Sophia replied.
In the time since my reveal as an Avatar, I'd told Sophia a bit about Morgan. This was done after the spirit gave her explicit approval, of course.

"Dun tell har too much." I noticed that Morgan's accent thickened when she was angry, and for some ungodly reason, I was starting to adopt her soft melody and trill.

"In fer a penny and fer a pound." She snorted as I rolled my eyes once again.

The train started to slow as I stared off into the distance. Were we already in Dunwich? I narrowed my eyes, a sign whisked passed the window. “Now Entering the Miskatonic Valley” it read. Miskatonic? Where in the nine have I seen that?

"Huh, didn't think it was real." Morgan's comments were helping as the spirit was obviously more in the know than me. The train continued deeper into the valley as deciduous trees and greenery-filled my sight. If I wasn't from the Great Northwest I'd likely be awed a little bit by the wilderness of the place, but come on, I grew up in Northwest Washington. To me, Wilderness was a landscape filled with alpine rainforest. Not on an Alaskan level of "nobody is here", but still more than this quaint little valley. If anything it just reminded of another Stephen King novel, and my outright dislike of the man's obsession with Maine.

Yes, I don't like Stephen King, sue me, he's a good writer, but he's not for me.

I leaned back into my seat and tried to forget the scenery. I'd be living in it for the next four years of my life and I didn't want to overdo it in one go. Even as I closed my eyes that annoying little feeling of being watched returned. This time, I canted my head toward the opposite seats and slid my eyes open. As I did I saw four distinct shadowy feet jump off from the seat and tumble under it out of the corner of my eye.
So great, periphery vision rules, fucking hell witch vision!

"Faerie rules lass." Morgan chuckled in the recesses of my head.

If I kept rolling my eyes I was going to make myself dizzy. A small smile graced my lips as I realized I'd finally calmed my anxiety down, for the moment. Letting out a slow exhale I tapped my foot as a few more minutes passed and the scenery changed to a small quaint train platform.

"Now arriving in Dunwich, New Hampshire," came the call over the com. I perked up at our journey ending its latest leg, and I rose immediately as Sophia was already on her feet and gathering her things. As if called by magic Corinne joined us shortly dragging a small bag for herself and the four large suitcases both of us brought for the year. I blushed as she handed mine to me and said, "I know you can handle these."
I'm an Exemplar four, so I can lift a lot, so they tell me.

Getting off was easy, we were pretty much the only passengers in our car. As we reached the platform I breathed in the chilly New England air and stretched. A few cracks were heard from my neck and my knuckles. Okay, I can do this, I can go to a new school across the country. I repeated the small mantra over and over again. The platform was simply a long piece of pavement near a small town main street. A colonnade cover met my gaze as I scanned the outline of the low-hung mountains in the distance. Heh, mountains, unless they can spew fire and ash, they ain't mountains to -me-. Corinne was once again on her phone as Sophia waited beside me her face back in that stupid book.

So I was alone, for now.

I drank in the sight of the small town, and yup it was a small little town just like the annoying towns I knew back in Whatcom County. My eyes dragged across the shop fronts until I spied a young blonde leaning against the divider fence a few feet away. Huh, okay, I'm going to use my spidey senses and assume she's our contact, right? Taking a breath I set myself by Sophia and strolled over to her. Blue-green eyes met mine as I noted the inverted triangular shape of her face. Her blonde hair while well kept was held back in a military issue bun under a nondescript cap. A few quick deductions and it was her military boots that gave her away. My dad counsels Vietnam vets, and I've got army and navy relatives. This woman was a vet or at least had military training to some degree.

"Um, hey," I waved shortly before flushing bright red. Yup, there was old man anxiety right back behind me.

"From your hair and eyes, I take it you are Gráinne O'Callaghan," the woman said. I blinked for just a moment, there was something a tad familiar about how she talked.

"Wow, so yeah, you are someone sent here by the school," I reacted in a typical not -too- surprised fashion.

"Sam Everheart, Whateley Academy Security," she offered me her hand and I did my best strong grip without crushing it.

"Can I ask what service you were with?" I asked out of the blue.

"Navy, how you tell?" she asked casually.

"Your boots, your hair bun, and I grew up with Vietnam vets for cousins," I replied. I mean it wasn't hard! Washington also had a massive military presence just south of where I live so it wasn't at all unusual seeing off duty folks just living life.

"Not bad," she replied before waving to Corinne to get her attention.

"Ah, Everheart nice to finally meet you," Corinne Jameson, a pure professional as the adults met and exchanged the usual handshakes. The two began to talk as Corinne inquired about the current state of Security on Campus and I waited for Sophia to join me. My friend finally stuffed her book into her satchel and gave me one of those "what" looks.

"You're back with the living," I chided her.

"Hey, you get lost in your head, I'm prepping for a magic class, don't judge," she shrugged to me.

Miss Everheart and Corinne finished their initial conversation before I found myself shepherded into a large white van with the words "Whateley Academy" on the side. All our luggage was loaded up with Corinne reminding me that I could lift most of it easily before we all piled in. The drive there was itself, more of the scenery from before. A deep forest seemed to surround a portion of the road as we drove onward. A small sign with the words "Now Entering the Medawhila Tribal Reservation" certainly brought back memories. From the chatter between Corinne and Miss Everheart, the former was in touch with someone in the local tribal government. From my experiences with Sophia's family, many of the first nations in the US had open lines of communication with each other.

Just as we drove up to the buildings I would learn about, the various halls, cottages, and other parts of the Whateley Campus time seem to freeze for me. Two things occurred which etched into my memory. A black shape, the size of a large wolf dash from behind three trees. Four legs, and not much else, but I did spy a pair of red eyes. The last however was a weird feeling of joy, dread, and what I can only describe as an epiphany.

"It's here! The heart of the trees is HERE!" Morgan seemed to sing with rapture at sensing something. Her words drew my gaze back to the trees, and all I could do was wonder.

Mid-Afternoon, November 10th, 2007 - Admin Offices, Schuster Hall

Scald-Crow
"Patience, mo Róis, do not let your fear of the wolf's den make you fear any Ollamh or teacher." Morgan's words were laced with care as she spoke to me. Sophia was gone along with her mother, leaving only myself and my student handbook. 

Earlier that morning before switching trains Soph had walked me through what to wear for the uniform. A collared pure white ruffled blouse with long sleeves. I checked my cuffs and made sure they were buttoned. Sophia fixed my collar and then showed me how to tie the solid black tie I'd been given. She explained that black meant I was assigned to Poe Cottage, and I quirked an eye at her.

"Cottage system, you know Gryffindor and Ravenclaw House?" she said to me. Immediately, I got it. So, my identity was attached to the Cottage and its name was Poe. How did she know that?

"How do you know which house I'm in?" I asked her as she smoothed out her black dress pants while I was stuck in a black pleated skirt which grazed the top of my knees. Gods, I was so pale people would be claiming the Red Arrow of Gondor had been fired to Rohan.

"Mom," she replied and added, "and the Handbook indicates which tie colors to buy based upon your House assignments."
She proceeded to open my book to the page on girl uniform requirements and even pointed it out to me. I, of course, shot a glance toward the dijon yellow and grey striped tie she wore and upon noticing my expression she replied.

"I'm in Whitman, mom and grandpa want me to be in an all-girl Cottage while your parents asked for the one known for mental illness," she said.

"You mean the name of the Raven poet didn't give it away," I smiled, "might as well declare my goth name as Nightpain while I'm at it."

Sophia giggled at my joke. Being a quintessential high school goth and a former social kid, we both ran the gamut of the high school clique memes. I, of course, loved a few of Edgar's works, and while I wasn't surprised by the Cottage's name it did seem a little "on the nose" to me.
This brings us all the way back to where I was before our little trip down memory lane. Sam Everheart remained with me as a chaperone. From what the security officer told me she was there at the request of my parents and Gerald Jameson. The fact I'd indirectly killed a leading Humanity First member back home and possibly had a ghost woman stalking me meant I was a possible 'anomaly' the school didn't want to ignore. I didn't bother asking her why they also kept me away from other students, but it all seemed like I wasn't the first hunted trans girl they'd had. Especially one with connections to a few bad seeds in the MCO!

After the third attempt to strike a further conversation with Miss Everheart I returned to quietly just witness the school grounds. I noted a red flag flying at one point and made a mental note to ask about it. Places like this always had some sort of etiquette which wasn't the most obvious. Plus, I was pretty sure I had seen at least one reference in the school manual when I 'skimmed' it earlier.
"Alright, here we are," Miss Everheart stated, "Schuster Hall."

A quick look at the building and I barely had a hot second before she was opening the door. The actual movement I was undergoing was pretty rushed. The grand doors of the Hall opened up as several students pushed past us just past the entrance. Perhaps this is where the size and 
grandeur of the school slowly started to sink in. Directly across from me was a massive mahogany staircase. Interspersed throughout the hall were a collection of couches, chairs, and small tables. Each cluster was carefully decorated with beautiful potted plants from which a few careful views revealed to be a mixture of flowers and some with colored leaves.

The actual homey massive school lodge feel was completed by the two massive fireplaces on opposite ends of the hall just as I entered. Miss Everheart appeared to give me just enough time to witness the formality bleeding from the room before she whisked me down another hallway. I barely had time to notice the words "Administrative Offices" on the door before I found myself once again in the Faculty Offices of my High School.

Great, I'm barely one day onto school and I was about to see the Principal. The only exception is this one called herself a Headmistress. The big difference here was the size of the secretarial pool. Ferndale Sported one main receptionist as the School Secretary, an entire grouping of cubicles here revealed the size of Whateley's administrative machine.

"Mrs. Carson is busy at the moment," a secretary from the pool stated just as we entered and upon seeing me. Everheart gave a curt nod before quickly conversing with the office worker about which bigwig I was going to be lectured by. Everything just screamed planning and as I stood there all I could do is wait.

"Hmmm. This school is tenser than a meeting of the Daoine Tír." Morgan shifted in my hallow and the feeling of being out of sync with my body returned. The Daoine Tír? I wondered aloud letting the thought shift in place of speech.

"My folk." She replied. The words sound Celtic to me and as I was about to think about it further she said, "Tis what the Gaels call us."

The Gaels? More questions and before I could pressure my spirit further someone spoke to me.

"Miss O'Callaghan," the words were succinct and precise. Another blonde, this one with a much higher air of authority than Sam Everheart was addressing me. She appeared to either be in her twenties or thirties and would definitely count as a knockout to anyone. Her golden blonde hair was worn in a neat French twist braid ending at the base of her neck. A pair of blue eyes watched me behind standard-issue thin, wireframe glasses. Her attire consisted of a violet long-sleeved collared blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt. What caught my eye was the small way her eyes moved over me in a cool methodical accounting. This woman's demeanor screamed code mistress to me.

"Uh, aye, tis me." I winced internally as my words flowed with the burr of Morgan's dream accent. It appeared the longer I was bonded to her the more of her habits I was adopting.

"Please come sit in front of my desk," the blonde speaking to me gestured politely to a large desk located just outside the Headmistress’ office.

Attempting to be a smart young lass I noted the name painted on a small plaque situated on a large expansive desk, Amelia Hartford, Assistant Headmistress. "Watch wha ye say, my heart. This woman be not an enemy ye want."

"Take a seat, Miss O'Callaghan," again those words were precise and ordered. Just enough that anyone with a long enough time with any software nut in Seattle would pick up the coder lurking behind them. When she said sit, I did and placed my hands in my lap.

"Let us begin," she spoke and placed a filed with my name on it on her desk. Miss Hartford didn't even sit but instead leaned over her desk to open the file and turn it around so I could read it.

"These are your room and cottage assignments." Her right index pointed at the emboldened "Poe Cottage, Room 236." She raised her eyes to meet my own and gave me an expression that I understood to me "you following me."

"You will be rooming with a Sophmore, Alexis Dunn, codenamed Shipwright, she will be able to explain the details of what's expect at Poe cottage." She returned her expression and waited this time for me to nod.

"Do you know why you are meeting with me?" she asked after finally taking a seat and closing her hands together.

"I'm a risk for the school," I said bluntly, "I was almost expelled for violence at Ferndale High, and killed someone."
My depression related to past acts bled through my words. I hadn't given into the trauma just waiting to make me break down on the spot, but I was nearing it.

"Well put," she said and adjusted her glasses, "and while Mrs. Carson would see you. She's currently busy at the moment."

"Th-thank you for giving me your time." I stuttered out before clamping my lips shut.

"My time is a rare commodity," she stated before continuing, "and you are right. You are a flight risk and a noted exemplar rager. We aren't taking chances with you, Miss O'Callaghan."

I didn't care how blunt and cold this woman spoke to me. She wasn't fake about it. Miss Hartford didn't give a fake too white smile filled with candied bullshit. She was being real and talking to me as a person and who was expected to understand it. This -bint- was giving me the agency I craved.

"Your family lawyer, Mr. Jameson, sent me over your permanent record from the Ferndale School System.” She paused before laying out my information in front of me and tapped the notes about my former expulsion. “Because of your history, the faculty are still discussing your schedule along with the recommendations forwarded by your parents. Your new schedule will be ready tomorrow morning.”

This meant they weren't giving me a choice. I was the traumatized berserk girl and they were going to tell me my schedule to a 't'. When it was ready that was what I was assigned and all control over what electives I wanted was out of my hands. Closing my eyes I grit my teeth to flush out that annoyance building in my body. I wanted to slam my fist onto the desk and exclaim that no one was going to dictate my schedule to me without consulting me! Remember Grainne, you're the girl who killed someone, you don't get a choice.

Yup, I wasn't going to have a life here, just a happy little robot in the school of wizards and mutants.

"Now, the second most important thing you will need to understand," she began opening a drawer and depositing another packet of information. Ultra Violent Regulations for School Year 2007 - 2008 it read in large red letters. Okay, this was the dramatic ruleset I was going to be put under, good to know. I let the last of my internalized snark fade away as she opened the packet and began laying it out for me. In its entirety, the packet was a secondary ten-page set of precautions I was taking as a rager. It also included a classification of rager and the various warning signs each classification wore on campus. This is where she then held out another sheet and required me to read and sign to make sure I legally understood the rules being set for my stay.

"You are being categorized as a Class Two Rager, and with your past assault experiences we are setting a few ground rules for you," she then told me to hold out my arm as she proceeded to roll a red armband with the word's "Ultra Violent" up on my right arm.

"Miss O'Callaghan, you must wear this at all times when out of your assigned room. As per your triggers, we will be making sure you have access to at least one student volunteer with rape trauma experience in your Cottage," and I let loose a sigh of relief at that. Yeah, it sounds stereotypical, but having one person I can meet and just not having to relive it all to get them to comprehend my emotional pain was - uplifting.

"She's more bureaucratic than a Roman Censor." I blinked at hearing a random comment straight out of history from my spirit.

"Um. So if someone intentionally triggers me, they get in trouble," I asked.

"Yes, and no, we expect you to remove yourself from the situations to mitigate it," she replied. Okay, again, the onus was on me to prevent my episodes. It wasn't at all unrealistic for the lovely level of acceptance women still had to go through as survivors. Inhaling slowly through my nose, I let the slowly growing panic attack rush along with my limbs. The thought of having to always be aware was with me and just heightened my already growing habitual hyperawareness. My fingers dug hard into the armrest of my chair causing the wooden surface to creak from my enhanced strength.

"Miss O'Callaghan, kindly do not break my chair?" her words instantly caught my attention and I ceased squeezing the armrest.

"Yes, Ma'am, sorry, Ma'am," which came out of my mouth sounding like "mum". Ms. Hartford gazed at me for a moment before adjusting her seating. A few moments later she was going through the files as I waited there on the spot.

"You understand it all I take it?" she asked me. I gave a slow pendulous nod as Miss Hartford placed all the information into an envelope for me to keep. Even as I felt my anxiety growing again, I attempted to focus on my breathing, but just as I raised my gaze to spy Miss Hartford again something skittered in front of the door behind her. It appeared as a faint shadow, yet as my eyes focused I could see the change in movement in the originally stationary backdrop behind her desk. 

"Please bring Envy to the office," she said. A bit too busy with tracking moving shadows I nearly let out a squeal as I heard her speak again. My focus was shattered as whatever little shadowy paws I attempted to follow disappeared as Hartford made a command to an idling secretary. The woman from the pool gave a small start as she realized the Assistant Headmistress was talking to her. 

"Right away, ma'am," the young office worker squeaked before turning to her phone to make a quick call to Envy's cottage.

This left me with one burning question. What girl calls herself Envy?

A Few Minutes Later, November 10th, Whateley Academy Campus

Envy
Wandering into Schuster Hall, gliding through the halls with unnatural grace, Envy approached Ms. Hartford’s desk near the apex of the administration. Only a few steps away was Headmistress Carson’s office, her mother’s nemesis. After a moment’s pause, she continued past the rows of desks in the secretarial pool outside the office. It was strange that Ms. Hartford didn’t have her own office, but Envy considered the commanding view that she had amongst the secretaries and understood. This was the hub of administration, every scrap of information passed through here. The Assistant Headmistress was like Julius Ceasar leading from the front.

Envy found the Assistant Headmistress sitting at her desk across from a stunning athletic redhead that was fidgeting, rolling on the balls of her feet impatiently. The girl was wearing a Whateley uniform, like Envy’s only more wrinkled and sloppy. The one difference between her and the pale-skinned redhead was the red ultraviolent armband that graced her upper arm. Her hair was wild, the kind that tangles moments after combing. Seeing a shadow move in the polished metal plaque behind the title ‘Ms. Hartford, Assistant Headmistress’ emblazoned in neat lettering, she felt a chill down her spine.

"Miss Valocco, good timing as always,” Ms. Hartford greeted with a genuine smile. As the school’s Syndicate representative, she and Envy were technically on the same side in the meta-culture of the mutant community. Few students saw the good side of ‘Hardass’. Envy didn’t have to be an empath to read the new girl’s reaction as she glanced over her shoulder at her, then did a double-take. Emerald green eyes, brighter than Envy’s, glanced down her body before she turned away to conceal her blush, legs pressing tight together. A new Poesie then, Envy concluded in the privacy of her mind, though more of a lily. “Thank you, Ms. Hartford,” she said aloud, “I would have been here sooner but it’s a red flag day. How can I help?”

"I would like you to give Miss O’Callaghan here her orientation,” Hartford said, adjusting her glasses before sitting back down. O’Callaghan blushed bright red as she looked from the adult to Envy. “Um,” she stuttered, “I’m Gráinne.”

Smiling, Envy offered her hand. “No codename yet? That’s ok, approval can take a while. I’m Envy, I’ll show you around and get you situated at Poe.” Looking to Ms. Hartford, the Assistant Headmistress gave her a nod. “Thank you, Ma’am, I’ll let her know everything she needs to know.” Quickly pulling the new girl away, Envy breathed easier. A secretary pointed them at an empty meeting room, so Envy led Gráinne inside and closed the door behind them. “I have a codename,” Gráinne stuttered once they were alone. Big green eyes watched Envy intently. “Mine is Scald-Crow,” she finally said.

"Nice to meet you,” Envy said gently, “my real name is Serafina Valocco. I’m in Poe, the same dorm as you, I’m also a frosh so we’ll be on the same floor. I know this is a lot to take in all at once.” Sitting on the edge of the desk, Envy crossed her legs. “For starters, I have to let you in on the big secret. Don’t talk about this anywhere you might be heard, these rooms are soundproof and swept for bugs regularly, so I can tell you here.”

"It is,” she murmured nervously before crossing her arms and shaking a bit, standing five feet away against the wall. “What’s the big secret?”

"You and I have something in common, we both admitted on our enrolment forms that we are part of the LGBTIQ+ community. Poe is for us legbutts, that’s the big secret. Openly, Poe is for weirder folks that don’t have the special needs of those in Hawthorne, that’s the dorm with folk that have dangerous mutations. We’re ‘the crazies’, as it were. It’s a pretty weak excuse considering some of the people in the hetero dorms but it’s worked so far.”

"Oh,” Gráinne said carefully. “I’m a lesbian… That’s good.” She said the words carefully before biting her inner lip.

Envy smirked. “Just a lesbian? I’d assumed that I was assigned to you because I’m trans.”

Gráinne’s eyes went wide as saucers. “I am! I am trans,” she burst out. “This is more common than just me, isn’t it?”

"It’s relatively rare when it comes to the overall population, but surprisingly common amongst the trans community. It seems that more of us manifest than the average, and when we do manifest we become our true sex. At Poe, you’ll be part of two sisterhoods, the lesbians and the transgirls. We’re your people.”

Her eyes were starting to tear up as she wanted to just sit there and cry. “So people will understand me then?” she asked, hugging her sides hard.

Envy nodded slowly. “I’d offer to hug you but I don’t want you to feel pressured. I’m a WIZ 3, PSI 3, EX 3, I changed sex when I manifested. It was a bit of a shock for me because I was in denial, and then I had to re-learn how to live. I was very different, I’d gone from a shlub nobody wanted to talk to to the hottest girl at school. But still, that phantom pain in the back of my head I never really understood is gone, so it’s good.”

"Thank you for asking me,” the redhead said unsurely as she looked down and flexed her hand, “and thank you for sharing.” She looked away as she tried to think about what to say. After a few minutes, she wrung her hands together before glancing at the floor. “I have to see a therapist,” she said slowly. “I’m exemplar 4, avatar 3 and wizard 1.”

"It’s ok, therapy will come. First, my job is to show you around our wonderful campus and get you into your dorm room,” Envy said brightly, smiling as she bounced to her feet. When you’re ready. Do you need a drink or anything? I figure we can swing by Crystal Hall first, it’s pretty impressive and houses the cafeteria.”

"Can you keep guys away from me?” Gráinne asked earnestly as her eyes darted towards the window. “I could use a few Poweraides, I’m pretty thirsty.”

"I’ll keep them away, I promise,” Envy said, opening the door and leading Gráinne out. They walked the hallways, Envy pointing out the facilities as they passed. Emerging from the building, Gráinne gasped at the crystal dome, rainbows dancing in the air around the building. Even for someone as jaded as Envy, it was a beautiful sight. As they walked towards the cafeteria, several students walked around them, avoiding coming too close.

"It’s the armband,” Envy told the new girl. “Most people know not to mess with people with a UV band on. If they do mess with you and you hurt them, it’s their fault. I know you probably don’t want to hurt people but that’s the situation, as long as you remember to wear the armband. Don’t worry, plenty of people will still be your friend.”

Pausing, Envy spots one of the flagpoles and points to it. “See the red flag? Those are all around campus. Keep an eye on them. Red means no powers unless you or someone else is in danger. Orange means be careful. Green means cut loose. It’s based on how many normies are around, technically we’re an ordinary boarding school in the middle of nowhere that doesn’t advertise through normal channels and isn’t on any maps.”

She nodded absently as they walked down the path. Distracted, she jumped when a boy across the quad gave them a catcall. Envy didn’t even look at him as she gave him the finger. “Don’t worry, the cafeteria will be mostly empty at this time of day.”

"Thank you,” she shivered as she walked closer to Envy, resisting reaching to hold onto her. “I don’t trust men much. I was almost raped at my last school.”

Envy’s eyes narrowed for a moment before becoming compassionate. “Preach it, girlfriend. I understand. I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise. The therapists here are some of the best, you’ll get all the support you could ever need.”

As they walked into the cafeteria, they paused to marvel at the strange acoustics of the dome, multiple levels rising above them. Envy took the lead, weaving around to avoid the small groups of students scattered around at the tables. Retrieving several bottles of Powerade for Gráinne and water for herself, she returned and handed the drinks to the redhead. “Here we go, this one’s on me.”

Gráinne ripped the cap off the first drink and downed half of it in a gulp. “Oh, thank you, I needed that.”

"That’s ok. So, yeah, this is the cafeteria, like most, it’s jam-packed at lunch but there are some allowances for ragers who can’t handle crowds. Don’t worry, the faculty won’t put anyone at risk.”

"That’s a relief,” Gráinne said between gulps, finishing her first bottle quickly. “What’s next?”

They walked down into the basement for the mandatory viewing of the trophy room, including the portrait of Lord Paramount and a small pile of gold bars. Climbing to the roof of Shuster Hall, Envy pointed out the dorms and buildings scattered around the campus grounds, including Poe and Hawthorne to the southwest.

"What’s that?” Gráinne asked suddenly pointing at a large stand of trees beyond Poe. “You can feel that?” Envy asked delightedly. “That’s The Grove, it’s an ancient place of power connected to the Sidhe. Only one student I know of is welcome to go in, a Sophmore called Fey. She’s some sort of reincarnated faerie queen.”

Gráinne’s eyes widened. “For real?”

"Yeah, she’s the real deal,” Envy confirmed. “If she survives, she’ll be a contender in mage circles. You’re wizarding one, you’ll see her around magic classes.”

Gráinne suddenly turned her head, like she was listening to someone else, then winced. “Envy, I dun know,” she said, her words slurring a little as her lip trembled, “can I trust this girl?”

"She’s got a rep as a cape,” Envy says, shrugging, “most will tell you that I’m untrustworthy.”

She closed her eyes, listening to a voice that Envy couldn’t hear. “My spirit wants to know which Queen it was?”
"Aunghadhail,” Envy answered, “Mom’s keeping an eye on her.”

After a moment, Gráinne giggled. “Um, she describes Aunghadhail as a pretty unpleasant person.” She smoothed out her skirt as she shivered, fidgeting. “She says to introduce her as Morgan, Raven of the Centre.”

"Must be nice having a friendly voice to guide you sometimes.”

"You could say that,” she replied with a slight smile. “She’s too weak to manifest yet. So where to next?”

"I think you’ve had enough exposure to the masculine element for one day. Let’s show you Poe and get you settled. Your bags should be in your room already. You’re lucky, people with our experience get to help the House Mother set the place up for students. Usually, there’s a bit of extra orientation for us.”

They walked down from the roof and headed south across the grounds. Passing fewer people on this side of campus, away from the mainstream dorms to the north, which was a welcome respite. “I don’t like being away from my family,” Gráinne commented in a mournful tone. Her green eyes glowed as she stayed close to her chaperon while also peering at Envy’s behind.

Envy felt Gráinne’s eyes on her but kept her smiling mask in place. She’d stolen enough glances of her own at female exemplars to understand the instinctive hormone-driven urge. “I understand that family is stability. I might have issues with my Mom but she’s protective. Still, we have a lot to learn about taking care of ourselves and Whateley is the best place for that.”

"I’m not here because of that,” she said quietly as she stared off into space. “I was almost arrested and expelled. Then I killed a Humanity First chapter lead.” Her words were strained as she shrank into herself, anxiety plain as she fidgeted.

Feeling the aura of guilt around her, Envy struggled to process the feeling. “Uh, I’m not very good at this but I’m sorry you had to do it,” she said mechanically, trying to recite what her therapist suggested as a correct response.

"They shot me twice,” she said, fingers playing with the hem of her skirt, her shoulders starting to shake. “I could have just scared them off but I was so mad. I nearly ripped off a car door and caved his skull in.”

"You really should talk to your therapist,” Envy said hesitantly, sighing. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the same reaction to these things as most people. It was a traumatic situation but you were protecting yourself. Of course, I wouldn’t bat an eye if you’d told me you’d killed a Nazi in cold blood, but I’m told that’s the part of me that’s a little broken talking.”

"You aren’t broken,” Gráinne said slowly, “it’s just trauma.” She rubbed her shoulder nonchalantly.

Envy gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you. Sorry, I try to be good but I’m not one of the ‘good guys’.” Looking for a change of subject, she breathed a sigh of relief when Poe came into sight at the end of the path. “So that heritage-looking building is Poe. Don’t be fooled, it’s perfectly modern where it counts.”

"Made some modifications yourself?” Gráinne quipped.

"Only to my room,” Envy answered earnestly, smirking.

As they crossed the threshold, Envy explained where to find the House Mother, showers, bathrooms and the general layout of the building. With the minutiae out of the way, Envy led her down the hall towards her room.

"I’m not really well versed in capes versus villains. I think it’s a stupid black and white system,” she grumbled.

"Historically, it makes sense. Before there were schools, mutants didn’t have a lot of choices. Some used their powers in the service of governments, whether out of a sense of civic duty or coercion. They got the good press and became capes. Heroic mythology sprang up around them and now they’re as many symbols as people. Other mutants had to do what they could to survive and built an anti-establishment philosophy and community around criminal activity. Capes think the Villains are preying upon humanity, Villains think the Capes betrayed their own ideals by ignoring mutant genocide. It’s more complicated, of course, but that’s the summary. It’s still dumb. Personally, I don’t agree with everything my mother does, or what most Villains do, their ideology smacks of doing things to people for their own good. Some Capes are genuinely good but many of them stink of hypocrisy.”

"Makes sense,” Gráinne sighed. “Where is your door located?”

"End of the hall, on the corner,” Envy points as they stop in front of Morgan’s door. “If you need help I’m just down there.”

"I’m sorry I’m such a goober,” she replied carefully as she rubbed the back of her head.

"You’re not,” Envy said, starting to reach out but then stopping herself. “You’re good.”
Gráinne blushed bright red as she wrung her hands together. She drifted a little closer, “I have, like, no self-esteem.”

"I think you’ll surprise yourself once you start therapy and combat training,” Envy says encouragingly, “you’ve been through a lot, and you’ve been isolated, but that ends today.”

"Okay,” she nodded, leaning against the wall before falling silent for a few moments. “Can I,” she began, pausing in hesitation, “talk to you in the future?”

Envy blinked, blushing. She was so damn cute. “I, uh, yes, of course, you can. Knock on my door anytime.”

"Really?” she exclaimed as her green eyes lit up, struggling to hide a smile.

"Of course, you, uh, seem nice and we’ve gotten along well so far and you’re quite, um, beautiful and…” Envy froze, realizing what she just said.

She’d been nodding along with Envy until she said she was beautiful. Large emerald eyes widened, as her mouth opened agape in shock.

“You think that? Really?”

"Ah! Y-yes? I do, I mean, you’re an exemplar so being hot is kinda our thing and I’ve always liked red hair and you’re cute and your eyes are pretty and I’m babbling! Shit! I’m sorry!” Envy blurted out, backing away nervously.

"No! No,” Gráinne waved her hand to try to get Envy to calm down. “Why are you freaking out? I’m a lesbian! I don’t mind the compliments at all.”

Envy froze in place, looking around to make sure the hall was empty as she bit her lower lip. “But we only just met and it sounds like I’m coming on to you.”

"Uh, hello? I’m a girl who has no idea who she is ‘sides the voice in my head,” she scolded, taking a slow sigh to calm herself. “Why are you worried about this?”

"M-my Mom…”

"Who’s your Mom?” she asked, a trill of panic returning to her voice.

Collapsing against the wall opposite Gráinne, Envy hugged herself. “The Strega. She’s a supervillain enchantress.”
Gráinne went still for a moment as she thumbed her chin. “Wait… Wasn’t she the lady who held Paris hostage a while back?”

"Yeah,” Envy sighed, looking away. “She tried to blackmail the French government into helping find me when I was kidnapped by mimes. Long story. But she uses mind control and sex to get what she wants and I-I don’t want to do that.”

"Um,” Gráinne said, trying to buy time to think of something. “I wish I were better at people ‘cause I’d know the right thing to say. Not come off as either terrified of your Mom or gush over you. Uh, so…” She scratched her head, stammering. “I just met you, so your Mom’s reputation doesn’t really tell me who you are. Just that your Mom is super protective and I shouldn’t make her mad if we’re gonna be friends.”

"There’s that, but I don’t want to…” Envy trailed off, trying to organize her racing thoughts into words. “It’s going to seem like I’m doing the same thing to you that Mom does to people. You’re vulnerable right now and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

"Morgan says you’re overthinking it and, while yes, I am actually weak to mental manipulation…” She paused, smacking herself in the forehead. “Please don’t pass that around.”

"We’ll get you some wards; I can help with that under faculty supervision,” Envy offered off-hand. “But I’m used to having to think about everything, to take every possibility into account, to be paranoid. Yeah, I’m in therapy for good reasons.”

"I just killed a guy,” Gráinne tried to say without melodrama, “I can’t throw stones.”

"Sorry, you don’t need to hear my problems,” Envy said, trying to smile.

"Um, you’re fine. I’m just trying to show you that there are no pain Olympics, life sucks equally,” she said, trying to sound sage-like.

"Yeah, I’m just… I don’t want to be my Mom, y’know? So I do think you’re beautiful but, um, goddess how to say this without sounding like a jerk…”

"Morgan says ‘outwit it ye sable-headed lass’,” Gráinne quoted, blushing.

"I would like to be friends,” Envy says very quickly, panic rising. “N-not that anything more isn’t possible later but I just don’t want to rush into anything and now it seems like I expected things to happen but it’s more that because of my mother’s reputation I need to state that, for the record, I’m not trying to get into your pants.”

"I… Uh…” Gráinne garbled as she tried to process the rapid-fire explanation. “I have no reaction to that.

Envy held her face in her hands. “I know, I’m being dumb. I’m so sorry,” she mumbled before backing away down the hall nervously. “I-I’ll get out of your way.”

With that, Envy fled down the hall, slipping into her room with barely the presence of mind not to slam the door.

Evening, November 10th, 2007 - Whitman Cottage
DuskWing
Sophia nervously pulled the tie knot free from around her neck. So far, even after having lunch with a few of her new Whitman mates, she'd been fortunate to avoid meeting her roommate. With the quiet of being uninterrupted on her side, she glided over to the luggage holding more of her clothing and proceeded to unpack it. The room itself was pretty standard dorm shape. Twenty feet by twelve feet, a small area down the middle about four feet wide or so for both occupants to stand side by side. She leaned against her faux maple desk. Her desk was already covered in bits of art she'd been working on over the last few weeks. Mostly traditional Salish art including one of her works of the Lummi Eagle. She was kind of proud of that picture, the pride that came with every artist’s desire to destroy and remake their art.

She glanced at her bed and walked over to it to flop down on her back. Her eyes were heavy at this point and all she could do was slowly drift off to sleep. Who cared if she had class the next morning! The young woman lazily picked up her phone from where she discarded it right by her pillow. As blue light flooded her face she set an alarm for a catnap and curled up to feel her mind lazily drifting away. It felt great to let the heaviness of exhaustion just take hold and let her body go numb from falling asleep. Thirty minutes of rest was what she needed.

A lone scape filled the vision in her mind's eye. Atop a tall Douglas Fir was a lone Raven, black eyes watched her as it tilted its head. The creature let out a loud caw as she walked toward the fir tree. She realized upon getting closer that she was wrong, or the tree itself morphed into a cedar. The evergreen smell permeated her nostrils as she stared straight up through branches. The Raven hopped from place to place down among the branches until it perched ten feet above her head.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Another tilt of the head and the Raven appeared almost amused by her question. Its beady black marble shaped eyes fixated on her for a moment. Lifting its head to the sky the Raven's caw burst forth, "PREPARE!"

"What?" she asked in response.

"PREPARE! PREPARE!" it cawed in response as it jumped from the branch and sailed above her in flight. She watched as the large black bird flew speedily over the horizon.

"NANI DES KA?" barked a voice suddenly and loud enough to shatter her dream. The loud guttural words caused her to sit up with a gasp. Brown eyes searched the room to find the source of the loud boisterous voice. A teenage girl dressed in the black blazer of the school with the Whitman tie hanging loosely around her neck. Blue-black hair cascaded down her head and framed her oval face. A pointed chin angled just below her tight pink lips gave her a steady scowl as she watched the newcomer on the bed. One of the strangest things about the girl was the steel needle hanging from between her lips. Her eyes were brown almost black with the right covered by a black banded eyepatch.

"What you lookin' at?" she retorted further in a gruff coarse voice.

"I don't know, the anime stereotype in front of me," the former cheerleader riposted.

"Ah fine," chirped the girl as she sat down on the bed. She crossed her legs from beneath her skirt and narrowed a singular eye.

"And you are?" Sophia said crossing her arms over her head.

"Tamahagane, Jeweled Steel in English," the girl replied before snarking, "And if I'm an Anime Stereotype then you're a total Himedere."

"I am not a fucking Princess!" she snapped. Brown eyes blazing with fury.

"I'm totally a Tsundere," the girl smiled as her almond-shaped eyes closed as she fell over giggling.

"Okay, I am going to assume you're Japanese since you seem to know this stuff better than most weaboo," Sophia sighed.

"Half-Japanese and Half-Korean on mom's side," the Tamahagane chuckled, "And you're First Nations."

"How do you know that?" Sophia inquired.

"First, few if any girls from the reserve ever lose that slight accent they got. Two, a few of my dad's contacts looked into you as they were pulling you into the office." She laid back and pounded her chest twice before withdrawing a long steel-colored practice sword from it. Shifting her arms Tamahagane wrapped her arms over the bodkin before sitting up lazily.

"How the hell would your father have contacts who can look at my name?" she asked.

"Syndicate," Tamahagane replied with a pout.

"Holy shit! Your dad's Steel Demon isn't he?" Sophia squawked.

"Yosh," she replied and gave a vigorous thumbs up.

"So what's your codename?" Tamahaganed asked.

"DuskWing and my real name is Sophia," Sophia nodded. "You're that kid who got kicked out of the top school in Vancouver right. Haruko Fujiwara?"

"Yeah, dad had to bribe a few school authorities to get me out of lockup," the Asian girl replied.

"Great, my roommate is one of the villain-spawn," Sophia threw her arms up in the air dramatically.

"So I'm a Bad Seed? What about it? Name's Haruko by the way," the more she talked; the more Sophia could pick out her low-brow accent.

"You really go whole hog with the Yakuza tough theme don't you?" Sophia asked. Haruko was busily unbuttoning her blazer to reveal a short sleaved v-necked white blouse beneath. That is most definitely not allowed in the uniform guide. What caught her attention though was she sheen of metal etched on the girl's skin. A silver lotus gleamed in the light of their dorm, and even more, designs scrolled their way down each arm she guessed from seeing the shortness of the sleeves. More metallic tattoos hinted at themselves along the girl's collar bone.

"Nice ink." Sophia leaned up against the wall against her bed and to stare directly at Haruko.

"It's my shell," the girl replied stiffly.

"You're a steel manifestor?" Sophia asked.

"So my steel senbon and pulling the bodkin out of my chest gave me away?" Haruko rolled her eyes.

"You aren't exactly subtle, just like a tsundere," Sophia smirked.

"Well." She let go of the bodkin and it remained solid as it lay just behind her head. Mirroring Sophia, Haruko slowly sat up and upon losing contact the steel bodkin disapparated.

"Well what?" she replied.

"Brass tacks then, I'm a Manifestor Four," Haruko rattled off the information.

"Wizard Three and Exemplar One," Sophia shook her head.

"Good, now that both of us are on an even keel," the Asian girl replied and cracked her knuckles nonchalantly. "We're both proud Rowdies, and we can maintain a little decorum."

"Rowdies?" Sophia asked quirking a brow.

"Something the Dickinson or Dicktwits came up for us a while back, and it stuck. Not a lot of girls use it, but I like being an underdog, it’s my schtick." Haruko crossed her arms and sat up while giving a sagely nod.

"Okay then," was all Sophia could say as she realized one thing. Fucking hell, I'm in a damn CW drama!

 

---

 

Chapter 2 - Ring, Ring It’s Recess

Early Morning, November 11th, 2007 - Whateley Campus, NH

Scald-Crow

"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" the loud dissonant cry of the alarm signaled my time to wake up. Promptly, I rolled over at the pain of interrupted unconsciousness. Some kids awaken with a jolt as their mind snaps into action. Me, no this wasn't happening today. I drifted toward the top and tore my way through the fog of REM sleep. Unlocking itself I felt a pang of agony wash through my skull and my eyes were overwhelmed by the bright light above me.

"DAMMIT LEXI!" I cried out in frustration as my roommate let out a demonstrative sigh. Suddenly, the light above me was turned off as I slowly rolled out of bed with a thump as my behind collided with the ground. Wincing, I gave my ass a gentle rub through my tight boyshorts and jumped to my feet. My chest and arse gave the prerequisite wiggle and I leaned back over my bed to begin straightening out.

"Rose," I heard from behind me as I glanced over my shoulder toward the curly-haired girl addressing me.

"Marguerite?" I shot back at her.

"We talked about you yelling in the morning!' she sat down across from me as I padded over to my armoire. Today was Sunday, and I was already late, or at least I felt like I was late. It didn't help that my body was still having issues adapting to the new timezone. Less than three days in and I had yet to adapt. A light growl escaped from my throat as I realized Lexi was already dressed for breakfast.

"You aren't going in your uniform?" Lexi, codenamed Shipwright chirped.

"No I am, its cold out so I'm going to wear the wool leggings mom sent me," I smiled as I dragged out the black leggings. Hell yeah, I was going to wear a skirt without worrying about my legs getting cold. After shimmying into the leggings I stepped into my skirt and zipped it up around my waist. That's when I realize I should have put my blouse on first. A small line of curses came under my breath as I gently unzipped the skirt and pulled a freshly ironed shirt from my armoire. By all the Gods above, why did women's buttons have to be the reverse of MEN!?
What insane witchcraft was this that they made me deal with it.

I just had to wish of being a girl.

"Ye did, lass, sa in the ancient words o' our people - 'Quit yer bitchin'." Morgan's wit and sharp tongue were getting worse by the day. If I wasn't entirely sure I'd say she was getting better each day we were on the Whateley Campus. Perhaps it had something to do with the "heart of the forest" she felt the other day when we arrived. I was unsure really. Morgan was appearing more readily in mirrors as of late. A caveat, however, as she appeared to be only capable of doing it once a day and only for no longer than a minute.

"The Dullahan slew Sinead terribly, an' until now I had barely any memory of their horrible headless form." That was most definitely new. Immediately, I froze as a memory was shown to me. A strange figure in a reflection, and a sudden burst of pain in my chest. I gasped loud enough that Alexis gave me a worried look just as she was gathering her things. Alexis Marguerite Dunn was a short girl with just enough curves to be cute. She wasn't an Exemplar, but when it came to a Gadgeteer she easily rated a five or higher. The page boy cut she was sporting had nicely cut bangs, and easily one of the cutest of the Underdogs.

"You okay?" she asked while packing her notes for all I could guess was another research session. Lexi was pretty much B'elanna Torres and Data from Star Trek smashed together. Minus the Klingon anger and the android's lack of people skills. If there was anything she could achieve even if it seemed like a pipe dream I was sure she would eventually invent it.

"Yeah," I shook my head as I gathered my own notebook and a packet of mechanical pencils. In between my upcoming classes I wanted to get a little writing done and maybe some sketching. I wasn't an artist like Sloan, my little sister, who was already designing her own comics and taking up oil painting. Even my skill at the violin wasn't the best, but at least I wasn't half bad at writing. Or at least, that's what one of my
English teachers told me.

"You looked like something was hurting you," she said as she finished pulling on her backpack. I refitted my skirt and smoothed out my blouse and the skirt. The small heels I wore fit quite nicely. A quick shake of my hips reminded me of the nice swish the skirt gave. Just as Lexi opened the door I finally was able to put things into words.

"Now and then, Morgan shares some of her dreams or memories of them," I said.

"Like how? Is she passing information to you or are you just getting images?" her eyes zeroed in on me with laser focus.

"Just images and feelings. Morgan's told me repeatedly she can't actually pass me the fullness of anything." I shrugged on my backpack and held the door open before closing it behind us.

Down the stairs and out through the common room, I caught sight of raven black hair and tan skin. I froze and watched the tall curved form of a girl who was obviously becoming my crush. Her legs peeked out from under the fringe of her skirt and were completely hairless. A bright red flush came to my face and all I could do was stutter.

"Gráinne, you're staring," Lexi remarked.

"Oh goddess," I said in embarrassment.

"You haven't heard about her have you?" Lexi asked carefully.

"No why?" I asked. Lexi shook her head as our talking easily drew Envy's attention and I was suddenly reminded that I had to get to breakfast.
The walk to Schuster and the Crystal Hall was uneventful. Most students gave me a wide berth with my white Ultra Violent armband on. There were a few kids who seemed to be psyching themselves up to come to talk to me, but most of the time I just gave them a glare and they backed off. While I felt no small shame in power, I was careful in using it. More than a few of them could easily take me and I'd likely find it hard to walk for a while.

As always I found myself eyeing the Crystal Hall dome and I smiled. Its really kind of sappy, but seeing a pretty building that I knew had enough food to feed me gave me a positive spring in my step. Brushing past the greater entrance of Schuster I was soon looking for Sophia.
Where was she? Crystal Hall features multiple levels with most of the upperclassmen on the top and middle levels. One group of kids including a very loudly dress black teen seemed to just be off in their own world. Among them was a rather impressive naga girl (yes, I find snakes beautiful) who was absolutely gorgeous. A second or two of my little random teen minds before I noticed what appeared to be a large raptor signing at the boy.

Did I mention that this school was utterly the best thing ever! Nope? Dammit, I need to be more consistent.

Lexi made a beeline for the Underdog table, or what I was told was the Underdog table. I followed after her a few of them watched me as I sat down by her. One particular boy was looking my way I didn't know his name, but his eyes widened as soon as he saw my Ultra Violent armband.

"Alley-Oop’s kind of a perv," Lexi said as one of his friends stared at me before deciding I wasn't worth the trouble.

"Can we sit with your Lab friends next time," I suggested as I felt my breathing increase.

"Yeah, they're more likely to get your rager issue," she said with a sigh.

"All I can do is a punch hard thing, I can't invent a warp drive," I giggled.

"No," Lexi rolled her eyes before snorting, "But, you and a few of the Diedricks kids will get each other. And, I'm not working on a warp drive! I'm developing a system to prevent human flesh from being liquified during high g burns! It's to get us to Mars in less than a year!"

"Yup, shared trauma of our brains being the feckin' worst," I trilled. Most of that went over my head, but I could parse out the basics from something I read from Dune. I knew Lexi was a Gadgeteer Five, to say the least, but sometimes I wondered if she was downplaying her rating to me.

"STAY OUTSIDE TWO FEET," I snapped at one of the boys who immediately jumped backward.

"Yeah, let's get food and change tables," Lexi said as she gave me a careful yank. Already, as I glanced my way at a few of the kids I saw the solid grey of Twain Cottage or at least that's what I thought their stupid tie color was. Great, the GSD cottage would soon know about the crazy redhead of Poe! I considered adding an extra snarl before just following after Lexi toward the actual lunch line. Already, it was pretty long and as I waited I noticed Sophia walking towards me.

Unlike me, Sophia was already looking the part of the perfect school girl. Her tie was immaculate and as she broke away talking to one rather rough-looking girl she joined me and Lexi in line.

"Hey you two," the native girl said. She was wearing a pair of simple silver earrings in each ear. Those were new, I gave her a look and she smiled.

"So who was the girl you parted ways with, the one sporting the solid metal bodkin," I asked.

"Oh, that's Haruko, she's my roommate," Sophia added without saying else.

"Isn't she one of the Bad Seeds?" Lexi piped up.

"The what?" I asked. This was new to me. I mean, I had been on campus for a while, but most of my time had been spent setting up my room and trying to figure out how to not look like a hot mess in my uniform. Plus, there was extra powers testing they'd run me through the day after I arrived. Something about the DPA backed test back in Washington not being accurate enough. Whatever that meant.

"They're the kids of A to B list villains," Lexi explained to them, "one of the girls from Poe, Envy, she's the daughter of the Strega."

"I know, she told me," Gráinne replied calmly, "you know the saying, sins of the father, it's a bunch of shite."
Lexi and Sophia both shrugged.

"Just trying to make sure you're careful," Lexi commented.

"She's not wrong Gráinne, you attract bad luck like honey to bees," replied my best friend and surrogate mom.

"Yeah," I sighed. Maybe, I was being irrational, but there was something about Envy I couldn't quite put my finger on. I let the thought wander for a bit as I piled food onto my plate. Enough bacon to fill up my stomach twice over, and a good amount of hash for the extra sugar. Promptly we found a place near the Lab kids table as Lexi fell into talking to one of the other Gadgeteers.

"Lex, did you say there was a kid here who was a master of brewing?" I asked out of the blue.

"Yup!, Shine, he's basically an alcohol devisor," Shipwright commented. Sophia's eyes widened at that and she shook her head. I understood why it bothered her. There were still stories of people getting Lummi's drunk and using their inebriation to sign away land. I'm not kidding, an entire fucking family on Lummi Island has basically spent years doing such a thing. You know when you get that utterly sick feeling to be related in any way to a group of people. That's how I felt when I saw her face.

"Mortals and Spirits are like in that ye always have tat one arse who has to ruin it all fer everyone else." Morgan's rumbling growl at my memory brought me back to the present. I rose from my seat and walked my tray over to the busing bins nearby and stacked it with the rest. Sophia was already stretching as I returned and Alexis was once again discussing starship design with the new devisor freshmen.

"I need ta go off ta da offices," I slurred. My accent shifted as I felt my emotions wavering and preparing to run into a wild mood swing.

"I"ll see ye later back here for lunch then?" Lexi asked. Shipwright was a nice girl, and she seemed to have a bee in her bonnet to keep an eye on me. Likely it was Miss Horton, our House Mother's word in her ear. Sophia herself walked over before mumbling a question for a hug and I acquiesced. As my best friend, she was one of the few who could just hug me without permission, but still, she respected my space. I could almost feel her depression kicking up and I whispered a few small words of encouragement.

"K. I'll see y'all here after my therapy today," I heard the usual acknowledgments before I picked up my bag and skipped out past the door.

"WATCH IT!" I heard just as I nearly collided with a girl a few inches taller than me. "Damn lass, didn'a expect ye ta get all fay before I was stronger." Another tall blonde and a single look deliver the same results of what I was coming to call the Exemplar Girl Package. Or to put in mutable terms, a curvy tall woman with a body most models would kill for. She even had the stereotypical blue or grey eyes. Honestly, I wasn't looking at her eyes as she thrust her puffed out chest to me. Oh shit, I noticed the other two girls flanking her. One was the required brunette and another had dark hair which I assumed was black. It was hard to tell as I knew enough of what I was dealing with.

"Um, hi," I waved and flashed my Ultraviolent Armband. The white one which declared I would hulk out and attack most people who angered me.

"Stupid Frosh! Like, can you watch where the heck you are going?!" one of the girls at the blonde's side said.

"Um okay," I said as the Queen Bee shoved past me and gave me the usual shoulder shove. Except when she tried to do it I didn't really move.

"I'm an exemplar four," I mumbled as she glanced at me, and her eyes widened just the smallest fraction. Cheerleader Queen rolled her eyes as all teenage girls do and made a hasty retreat.

"Royal arse bitch she is, bout as bad as Queen Elizabeth! Though not as bad as her feckin shite of an Uncle!" That was new, I blinked as Morgan coughed up a few facts about her knowledge of the world. My spirit was still keeping a lot of her past close to her chest. I kept walking to put as much distance between me and Queen Bee as possible. The grand opening hall of Schuster met my gaze as I did my best to power walk through it. Again, as was becoming my usual treatment the kids in front of me evenly split aside to let me pass.

"Freak," someone yelled at me. Welp, at least my entire life hadn't changed too much. I caught the purple of Melville, and I let out a loud growl to make them walk away faster. I was through the doorway to the offices and quickly located the desk of the registrar. The office worker behind the desk a woman who looked a little worse for wear told me that once again I would be speaking to Assistant Headmistress, Amelia Hartford.

Why do they keep sending me to a woman that everyone in Poe seemed to lovingly name Miss Hardass? I hoped she was less judging of my uniform as the first day I met her and I soon found myself wanting as I padded over to her desk.

"Ah, Miss O'Callaghan, seems you are once again under my purview," she adjusted her glasses in what I could only be reminded as the classic anime style. You know when the smarmy asshole silently flips you the bird? No? Well, go watch a fucking anime then!

"Miss O'Callaghan, I would remind you that you should pay attention to when -I- speak." Those words ripped me from the little world my brain went to.

"Sorry, Miss Hartford," I murmured.

"Now, as Miss Carson is busy dealing with a few recent developments," she began and took a pile of paper and tapped it lightly on the top of her desk to align it. I did what years of authority figures ingrained into me - I shut up and put my hands in my lap to listen.

"Ah yes, shall we continue," I noted the lack of a question there. "Your schedule required a bit of discussion among the current faculty. There were a few protestations, to say the least mostly because while you show potential in magic, your well seems almost stagnated in it's status."

"Oh is that bad?" she asked slowly.

"No, you will be taking Magic basics with Miss Grimes, you'll just not be doing any spells any time soon, from what I'm told," she adjusted her glasses another time. Hartford gave me a few minutes to download all the information.

Sunday:
1400-1500: Therapy with Dr. Otto Octavius Jr., PsyD
Saturday:
0900-1200: Assigned Weekly Tutoring Period
Weekday Schedule:
Optional 1: Orchestra
Breakfast: Free Period
Period 1: BMA
Period 2: English 1
Period 3: World History
Lunch: Free Period
Period 5: Powers Theory
Period 6: Avatar 1
Period 7: Algebra 1
Optional 2: Biology 1
Optional 3: Intro to Magical Arts
Dinner: Free Period

I looked over the assigned periods exceeding ten classes a day. Of course, I let out a groan and covered my face as I imagined how I was going to keep up with all this.

"No whining Miss O'Callaghan, it's not professional, at least make an attempt to hide your contempt," Hartford chided me. Sitting up straight I gave her a sharp nod before taking the piece of paper in hand.

"Sorry, ma'am," I sighed as I took a few minutes to put myself together. I still had a lot of my Sunday to burn up, but I had a sinking feeling that very soon my day was about to get a lot more complicated than I wanted.

Breakfast, November 11th, 2007 - Whateley Campus

Envy
"Yo! Envy!”

Fina blinked as Haruko snapped her fingers in front of her face. She gave the Japanese girl an icy look like the background noise of lunchroom chatter faded back into her awareness. “What?”

Stheno giggled, her hair snakes hiding behind her back. “You looked like you were a million miles away,” Haruko said, smirking. “You ok?”

"I’m fine,” Fina answered, going back to eating the small pile of food on her plate.

"Well, yeah, but are you ok?”

Fina rolled her eyes. She couldn’t get a bead on Haruko’s sexuality but there had been a number of otherwise heterosexual girls who had hit on her lately. It was getting hard to tell friendliness and sexual interest apart. “I am ok,” she stated firmly, “I’ve got therapy this afternoon, so I’m a little distracted.”

Haruko made a face. “Gah, headshrinkers.”

"Do all the Bad Seeds have therapy?” Stheno asked. Despite the name and her gorgon looks, she wasn’t a Bad Seed or even a prospective villain to Fina’s knowledge. It seemed that she and Haruko just clicked for some reason.

"Nope,” Haruko answered, “not that they don’t try. Sometimes we get sent to a therapist if we get caught doing something antisocial but it’s usually a waste of time. They just want to talk about our parents, probably snooping. It’s harassment!”

"Ooooh, what did you do, Envy?” Stheno asked, leaning forward to listen.

Haruko winced and gave Fina an apologetic glance. “I got kidnapped by one of my Mother’s old enemies, who stole one of my eggs while I was unconscious and had to fight my own way out with lethal force,” Fina said matter-of-factly. “I’m not in trouble, the doctors want to keep an eye on me in case I have PTSD.”

"Oh,” Stheno said, looking guilty. “Uh, I’m sorry.”

Fina shrugged. “It’s ok, we found and destroyed the egg.”

Something about Fina’s blase attitude seemed to shock Stheno. Haruko leaned over to whisper to her, “It’s ok, Bad Seeds are used to some crazy shit hanging around our parents. You get used to it.”

Fina sensed the interloper approaching before the other two. He wasn’t subtle about his gaze as he approached her from eight o’clock, listing to his left to see if he could peer around her shoulder to sneak a peek at the curve of her breast. Haruko noticed him a moment later, Fina could see her shift her stance to a defensive position, instinctive for someone well trained. Stheno noticed him last, though her snakes glared at him suspiciously.

"Uh, hi Envy,” he greeted her, forcing a wide smile to hide his nerves.

Slowly turning, Fina took in his skinny form, plain boyish face with a prominent pimple on his forehead and dirty blonde hair and immediately took him for an Underdog. She felt a pang of pity and guilt in the pit of her stomach as she desperately hoped he wasn’t here to try what she thought he was. Kicking puppies wasn’t her thing.

Like a train wreck, he continued interminably into a disaster. “Hey, babe, I’ve got my hands on some free movie tickets for tomorrow night…”

And like that her sympathy evaporated. “Who are you?” Fina asked, interrupting his pitch.

He blinked, put on the back foot. “Uh, I’m Alley-Oop, the star player for the freshman basketball team, you’ve probably seen me play.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, though the line of his gaze was below her chin.

"That’s a fancy way of saying you prematurely ejaculate spanking the monkey in an alleyway,” she said, “I’d rather you take your dribbling balls somewhere else, you’re spoiling my meal.”

Stheno’s jaw dropped. The corners of Haruko’s lips twitched as she fought against her mirth. Alley-Oop eyes were wide as he paled in shock, slowly turning to walk away zombie-like from the scene, merging back into the crowd without a word.

"Damn, Envy,” Haruko chortled. “You really are the ice queen. Jadis needs to watch out, you’ll steal her name.”

"You could have left him a little bit of dignity,” Stheno whispered, scandalized. “Poor boy.”

"No, I couldn’t,” Fina disagreed. “Guys like that will keep trying if you give them so much as a drop of sympathy. Underdog or not, he’s a contemptible snot that sees people as tools to be used to climb the social ladder. To him, I’m a trophy, nothing more.”

"You could say he’s driven by envy,” Haruko quipped, innocently drawing circles on the table with the condensation on the base of her drink.
Fina rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you think the therapists here are really being used to harass the Bad Seeds?”

"The faculty’s getting more and more hostile to us,” she answered, sobering. “Security’s snooping around our operations, it’s getting harder for us to operate as fixers and do business. Faction Three and other operations aren’t feeling the same pinch, though. Something’s going down.”

"I’ll ask Mom to make a few calls,” Fina said.

"Is there a lot of cloak-and-dagger stuff between the Bad Seeds and the Capes?” Stheno asked.

"Not usually,” Fina answered. “Capes don’t do cloak and dagger as a rule. Frankly, though, the cliques are kinda bullshit.”

"How so?”

"Well, take the Bad Seeds. Our philosophy and attitudes are supposed to be defined solely by our parents? That’s a load of crap, villains are possibly the most diverse community in the world and we are equally diverse in attitudes. The Capes aren’t all good guys, some just want to get famous and ride the gravy train. Faction Three identify themselves through their perceived disability, Underdogs for strength in numbers… None of that tells you anything about who someone is as a person. There are Underdogs that are better people than most Capes.”

"Just not Alley-Oop,” Setheno snickered.

"Definitely not Alley-Oop,” Haruko agreed.

Feeling someone else’s eyes on her, Fina shifted to glance across the room from the corner of her eye. To her surprise, it was Gráinne, red hair fiery as it caught the light from the crystal dome just right. She was being subtle about it, pretending to listen as her friend talked, but she was interested in a lot more than Fina’s breasts. Fina recognized the girl Gráinne was sitting with as her roommate, Shipwright. She had a serious look on her face and kept glancing towards Fina’s table without actually looking.

Fina was tempted to read her mind but forced herself to look away instead. “I better go, therapy in ten minutes,” she said, getting up as they gave each other their farewells.

A half-hour later, Fina was glad to have something else to focus on other than herself as she found herself sitting across from a stout balding doctor who gave her a fatherly smile. “Afternoon, Seraphina,” Dr. Otto greeted her, “you’re looking well.”

"I’m an exemplar, doctor, we always look well,” Fina sighed.

He looked sympathetic. “I’m hearing in your voice that you’re feeling some stress.”

I smiled, understanding the probing technique he was using. “I’m used to getting blowback because of my mother but dealing with it every day is tiring. But I’m not used to getting hit on by boys or having capes warn people around me not to become my friend.”

"So you’ve got two problems you’re not used to handling.”

"I think I’ve got the boys under control, it helps that I can be intimidating when I want to. You have to give them a solid bop on the nose and they’ll leave you alone.”

"But you don’t feel you can stop people from talking about you behind your back.”

"Not without mind control… That was a joke.”

He smiled. “I know. Do you have any ideas what you can do about it?”

I rubbed my forehead. “Not really. I can feel people’s jealousy and fear. There are times when people talk to me and I can feel this kind of gulf between us. I get that they aren’t used to random kidnappings and people dying, I mean they’re kids.”

"And you’re not?”

"I am but I’ve got a lot more life experience than they do. I’m more grown-up, I think. Or more damaged, one of the two. I’ve had to take control of my own fate, I’m alone here, I can’t call on Mom or the faculty or anyone when I’m outside this office. I can only hope that my actions speak louder than gossip.”

"Do the Bad Seeds still have their support networks?”

"Yeah but I’m not going to use them. Associating with the Bad Seeds more than I do will just put me square in the sights of the capes and some of my peers in Poe will inevitably rush for them. I want to stay out of it.”

"Have you considered joining the capes? Not that I’m suggesting that course of action, just curious about your opinion.”
Sitting up, I shook my head. “Considered? Yes. But I rejected the idea. There’s a lot wrong with my mother, I don’t agree with her methods, but
I believe in her agenda and I’m loyal to her.”

"You’ve told me that she’s manipulated you.”

"Yes, but let’s face it, you’re a therapist doctor. At least half of your job is about manipulating people into self-examination and tricking them into helping themselves. You’re manipulating me, I manipulate the boys who hit on me, those people who think I’m dangerous try to manipulate others into abandoning me. Society is a manipulative dance, influence can be used to good ends too.”

"So you believe your mother manipulated you for your best interests?”

"From her perspective. She’s not always right, that’s why I disagree with her methods. I’m aware that being mean to the boys that hit on me might bite me in the ass but it’s the only practical way of getting them to leave me alone without doing much worse. And I can’t do anything about the people judging me and soiling my name without being the villain they say I am.”

Fina paused, taking a deep breath and going through her meditative rituals. Once she was calm, she continued. “Thirteen years of martial arts training, one of the most powerful mutants in school, and I’m helpless, impotent, powerless in the face of gossip and public opinion. That’s why I’m stressed, doc. When I came here I hoped I’d be able to hang around with people like me, make friends, start over. But I’m getting isolated yet again.”

"Is there some way you can talk to people? Reassure them that you don’t want to hurt anyone?”

"Despite how I look, I’m not exactly the extroverted type and I’m not great at being reassuring. I haven’t had a lot of interactions with people my own age and I tend to panic,” Fina admitted, blushing. “Stupid, really.”

Dr. Otto smiled brightly. “It’s not stupid, you know your weaknesses, that’s a good thing. Now that we’ve identified a problem, we can work on it. Right?”

Fina smiled. “Right.”

An Hour Later, November 11th, 2007 - Room 236

Scald-Crow
Leaving Schuster I sped across Campus while making my way back to Poe. I needed a few moments of respite before being plunged into a forced therapy session. Upon entering my Room at 236 I flopped down on the bed across from Shipwright. Lexi sat cross-legged on her bed, a small thin custom laptop perch across both knees. Her usual brushed hair was quite frazzled hinting at her previously lying position. I didn't bother looking at the screen since that was a bit too obviously rude for me to accomplish. But in her hand was a small note pad and she was furious scribbling in it.

"Sorry to interrupt what I'm going to assume are some calculations," I said just as I sat up and leaned against my pillows. "I need a clearer low down of what this place is like. Half of the traditional cliques aren't even here. For fuck sakes, I've seen what can only be called the Next Generation of the Justice League!"

That last one drew a small smile from Alexis as she set down her notepad and pushed her laptop aside before gently closing it. She started off simply, "Whateley has changed a bit since last year. The top clique, the Alphas had a falling out with its old leader a real perv named Don Sebastian."

Who the hell names their kid like that? Lexi then proceeded to lay out the general order of the lunchroom in her, what I was coming to understand, usual clinical style. Most of Whateley's biggest "cliques" were either school clubs such as the Literary Club or the Euro-Promotional League or training teams made up the student social groups. Instead of a clear popular kids table, many of the team and club leads were part of the Alpha Council.

"Team Kimba is one of the teams located here almost exclusively at Poe," in the back of my head I began to organize the tables of Crystal Hall in my mind. It kind of made sense with the Lab Kids and The Underdogs.

"So...I mean this all sort of makes sense in a weirdly X-Men sort of way," I laughed.

"Not really, we have I guess what you can call a danger room, but we don't have kids actually fight in it," she snerked.

"Yeah, I did always find it weird that Charles had basically a team of Child Soldiers," I remarked as we went into heavy topic territory.

"Gráinne, has anyone told you how dark your mind is?" Lexi replied.

"Wouldn't be the first I heard of it." I replied as I decided to change the subject, "So...why did that Alley-Oop boy keep staring at me with his creepy little friend?"

"Who? Pythia?" she asked and I mentally re-attached the name to the snake skinned GSD girl.

"No, she's cute," I replied flashing a small smile as Lexi giggled.

"Oop possesses a slight fixation on Envy and Exemplar girls like her," I nodded. Honestly, I couldn't fault the guy, as an Exemplar woman I was already feeling the beat of my hormones. If Envy's hair wasn't so damn luxurious I wouldn't stare at it so much. Just the idea of running my hand through it gave me goosebumps.

"Great, so I need to be aware of a little monster who could make me rage out during lunch," I sighed.

"Nah, we'll sit with my friends at the Lab table," Lexi countered.

"I love Science and Scifi Lexi, but it's not exactly my thing," I said.

"Well, maybe Sophia can help you there," Lexi twisted her hand outward to me in an offering gesture. Just as I gave a smile and prepared a reply, it was when Morgan spoke up.

"Look at the clock lass." On cue, I shot a glance at the digital clock fitted to the wall above our desks. It clearly read 2:03 PM and I found myself leaping from my bed backpack in hand.

"See ya," I waved just as I was out the door. A green-haired elf girl was nearly in my way before I swung around her leaving me dizzy.

"Watch it!" she yelled at me as I swept down the stairs and off to meet my shrink.

Ten Past Two PM, November 11th, 2007 - Doyle Medical Complex

Scald-Crow
"Óró sé do bheatha abhaile!" I sang the words aloud in Irish as I sped along across the main space that separated Doyle from Melville and Poe Cottages. While running Morgan had said the first line and I repeated it back aloud. The lines flowed from my lips and my tongue danced to let the trilling syllables free. A girl named Gráinne, my namesake was imprisoned for a crime. Morgan's story wove as she didn't tell me, but let her thoughts dance along with the music. An image of a woman defiantly standing before old Dublin Castle.

"Óró sé do bheatha abhaile!" the words sprang for a forth time and I was nearly upon the entrance of Doyle as I sang, "anois ar theatch an tsamraidh."

I pushed open a glass framed entrance door and let the woosh of air created by the cold temperature outside press over my face. Scents of disinfectant and much more.

"Sing with me lass, focus on the song, banish your anxiety focus with me." On and off in my dreams and in between Morgan was doing her best to teach me, Irish. Not the standard form they wrote on documents in Ireland, but the form spoken by the people of Galway.

"Sé do bheatha, a bhean ba léammhar." I mouthed the words in time to the music she played for me. 'Welcome, oh woman, who was afflicted'. Gaelic music was dour at times, but much of the depression in it was defiant in the face of adversity.

"I use ta sing this wit Sinead when she was young." Morgan's words were braced with sorrow and were upheld in a deep grief I was still coming to understand. We both were traumatized by the events of our lives. Morgan's was far older and ran deeper, but trauma was trauma. I can't compare myself to an ancient spirit, because I'm not her. I stopped just inside as I read through a small directory of offices and found where I was to meet Doctor Otto.

The next line came to mind, "Do b'é ár gcreach thú bheith i ngéibheann."

"Your fine land in the possession of the thieves!" Morgan sang the reply in English this time as I smiled.

"And you sold to the foreigners," I sighed as I stood in front of the open door.

"That was quite beautiful, Gráinne," said a kind fatherly voice from within the room. It didn't make me calm right away. In fact, immediately I bared my teeth and crossed my arms defiantly. A man sat on a wooden reclining chair situated in the corner of the room. Atop a table in the middle of the room was a small hotplate with a pot of water sat on it heating up as the smell of mint tea greeted me. Defensively, I scanned the room slowly to take it all in. The table was parallel to a brown plush couch. I crept over to the couch and drew my knees up to my chest and hugged them.

"Doctor Otto?" I asked as I stared at the man whose mustache was carefully tailored to run along his lips. A small beard complimented the look and along with his short brunette hair.

"Yes, that is me," he said. Worry lines were worn hard into the man's face and as I tried to get a read on him Morgan spoke up.

"This man cares for his craft." 

"Gráinne, do you know why you were assigned to my care?" he asked slowly.

"I was raped," I replied. Well, that wasn't the exact truth. There was never any penetration, just groping and painful abuse at the hand of those fucking bastards. My rage seeped from that ripped open scar and I let out a hard demonstrative sigh to expel it.

"Yes, no matter the extent of the abuse you faced," his words weren't exactly encouraging, "you survived a trauma. And, in a movement of pure courage, you fought back."

"I almost killed one of them," I said louder than I wished.

"It was self-defense," he replied.

"I was almost sent to jail for it," I sighed.

"You are not responsible for their actions, and for what happened to you," he sat there with a laptop in his lap.

"Why do they do it? Why did they attack me?! I didn't do a thing to them!" I shouted.

"Gráinne, I would like you to take a deep breath," he finished writing something on his computer and offered some tea, "Would you like some mint tea to calm yourself?"

"Ye - yes," I relented.

"This one is very patient, respect his words, my heart." Morgan's words came just as Dr. Otto picked up a strange looking chart from an end table by his chair. About two feet white, the thing was laminated. A range of colors from light green to the far left to dark red on the far right. He set it down and his laptop as well as he rose on his feet to retrieve a teacup from a nearby cupboard. Pouring the tea I kept my eyes on him the entire time, any sound too loud resulted in a visible flinch from me. Why was I so damn scared of my own therapist?

"You are showing the hyper-reaction and awareness often associated with rape survivors," he spoke to me after handing me the cup.

"...They are?" I asked. So I wasn't just going mad out of my gourd?

"Yes," Otto replied, "you're likely suffering from a form of PTSD. The Flashbacks listed in your file indicate a serious trauma."

"But they didn't rape me!" I protested.

"Gráinne, they abused you. Took away your agency and hurt you." His words were kind, and they bit deep into my sulking defenses. He was right, they had hurt me. Sure, the bastards hadn’t sexually penetrated me, but they'd physically assaulted me and talked of raping me.

"I - uh," I tried not to stutter in front of the man as he poured me another cup of tea. I sipped at the mint and let it settle my slowly nauseating stomach.

"I'm going to be expanding our sessions to two hours from now on. We'll be doing some basic discussion of your life and some means to help you regain control of your life." I nodded in return. Dr. Otto went on to explain that lifestream integration would mean I'd need to recount my experiences for the past year. This included my two encounters with Brad Finkbonner and his band of chimps. As we reached the early period of my manifestation I found myself gripping the edge of the couch cushions hard enough to tear a large chunk from them.

The level of disassociation I felt between what Dr. Otto was saying and how I felt was purely nauseating. I should feel a greater level of pain than I did right? These men violated me and all I'd done the second time was protest. Was I really a survivor if I did nothing? But...if I gave into my anger I'd likely kill again. What was I supposed to do?

"There be no comparison of pain and agony lass. The trauma I felt in war is no greater than what you experienced in abuse. You are a good person for accepting that ending the bastard's life wasn't necessary. But it was his fault he showed up and tried to shoot your family with his minions." Morgan's telepathic voice waned between the careful trill of her brough and between like the one I used every day.

I didn't realize, but Dr. Otto had ceased speaking and was pouring my third cup of tea. The mint calmed me enough that he waited for me to regain my focus and I gave a blush of embarrassment.

"Gráinne, our time's about up. If you do need to talk or are just needing a friendly message here is my number so you can send me a text." He handed me his card and kept his distance as he easily read the unease on my face. Staring at the card in my hand I noted the number and added him as a contact on my gizmatic phone.

"There is one thing I'm going to ask you Gráinne," he said to me as I was gathering my things and I gave him a small glance.

"Yes, Doctor?" I asked a little warily.

"I'm sending you an email to your school account. It's a form I'd like you to fill out. Just in case something bad happens. I want you to send it back to me before our next session," he never failed to speak in that calm and even voice.

"Yes, I will try my best Doctor," I said and gave him a wave before walking out the door.

 

---

 

Chapter 3 - A Day In The Life

Early Morning, November 12th, 2007 - King Auditorium

Scald-Crow
Have I mentioned how much I hate mornings? Like, I don't just -dislike- or find them -disappointing-. No, I -fucking hate- getting up before 10 AM in the morning. You'd think that years’ worth of early rising would have prepared me for it the day I now lived in the mutant school. Oh hell no! I still -hated- mornings and my body still decided to make me feel like I was weighed down by thick pieces of lead all over my body. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I got myself together and was able to shuffle into my uniform. I took an extra five minutes to clean myself off and packed my things for the next hour.

Unlike before the violin case weighed nothing in my hands. It didn't drag at me as I walked out of the room and closed the door. I checked my school registration pamphlet and noted the location of my first class, Music in King Auditorium. I took a few short breaths before setting off at a power walk to make the first bell. I arrived just in time as did a few other freshmen. One group was assembling into a traditional string quartet as others were busily playing to each other.

I pulled out my violin and caressed the neck and scroll. The strings were decent quality though I did want to eventually get some gut strings. One of my favorite and most annoying advantages of being an Exemplar was my increased sense of tune. I thumbed the A string and quietly sung a tune and gently fitted the peg until the string was set. Next, I cleaned off the used rosin from the days before using a soft cloth and reapplied it to my bow. Now, by using the A string I was able to tune the harmony of both my d and e string. The g wasn't the hardest after all that work.

Not being the most awake I didn't respond immediately when Mister King attempted to get my attention. You'd think a tall Elvis impersonator would grab my focus as soon as he spoke, nope. It was about three seconds doing one final check of my violin that I finally heard Mr. King clear his throat. Slowly and painfully, my eyes swept up towards the man's face as he crossed his arms and gave a slow shake of his head. Dammit! Why did it have to be today?

"Miss Ní Callaghan, why don't you show us a bit of your skill?" the tall man asked. His words were kind, but I could tell he was annoyed that I'd been so caught up in my own little world. I took a deep breath before deciding to respond. Without thinking I dragged a finger over the strings of violin finding a small playful tune as I picked at the strings to get my mind working

"Um okay," I said as I tried to think of what the hell I was going to play.

Being a violinist my preferred form of music usually fell between fiddle and classic baroque period pieces. I rummaged in my backpack as every eye was on me. My eyes flipped up to Mister King and I set my bow down and switched it back and forth. The slow notes slid into the dual string as I opened into the beginning of King of the Golden Hall from Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. By the time I was done I set my violin down and gave a light smile.

"Not bad Miss Ní Callaghan," he said with a smile. I did like the fact he was using the Ní rather than the masculine Ó. Still, how did he know about it? Likely my parents, or more than likely Sophia's mother.

"Thanks for letting me play," class moved onward from there. Most of the early morning groups appeared to be focused on group play. At least one small string quartet, a nascent rock band, and finally someone I didn't recognize.

"Fine - fine." The voice was a lazy alto and I noted the Asian woman with a long steel bodkin rest between her legs while she leaned on it.

"Miss Fujiwara, you're listed as being a singer, why don't you show us what you can do," the girl let go of her bodkin and stood up revealing her long straight black hair tied in a high ponytail.

"Sure, teach!" she chirped before standing atop her chair.

"Anyone mind playing a few cords for me?" she asked and a kid nearby struck up something as she started a quick vocal warm-up. I smiled, this girl wasn't being serious, but she did at least like it. To me, singing was a way to manage my anxiety.

"Thanks," she sighed before running her hands over her body.

"Hey folks, here's the story of Minnie the Moocher!
She's just a low-dow hoochie-coochah!
That girl was rough and tough as nails.
But Minnie she had a heart - as big as a whale"

Minnie the Moocher? That was one of my favorite songs and the girl was nailing the ragtime sound spot on. She spun around and went into the second verse before giving a bow at an end of her display.

Just After Breakfast, November 12, 2007 - Laird Hall

Scald-Crow
Changing in the girl's locker room before my new Phys Ed class was a weird experience. I was used to a very specific scenery back at home and for the first time, I wasn't sure what to make of it. This is the point in all of the usual transformation stories where I tell it was like being a kid in a candy shop. Let's be clear, I'm a lesbian, a big fat lesbian. But, I was more creeped out by the girl's brush past me and triggering my flashbacks. Also, unlike a lot of those kids, I chose who I was. Pulling on my gi for the class I readjusted my sport's bra and the workout shorts I wore under my gi's trousers.

Did I get a few nice looks at the girl's around me - yes, yes I did? But, it didn't go beyond the usual level of a hormonal teenager and honestly, it was less creepy than a few of the kids back at Poe. Yeah, I'm not going to go into it. Locking my combination lock in place I followed the rest of the girls out onto the floor.

"Ah, good you are all here," I heard a slightly accented voice say. Not far away I noticed an older Japanese man observing the rest of the class. Making a beeline for the man I came to stand in front of him and offered a small bow. His face was lightly tanned, and shaped like a rounded square. His eyes were focused on the assortment of students taking a seat in a circle around a set of gym mats. I noted the light fuzz of his grey hair and his stance reminded me of many Martial Arts Teachers I'd spied in a few dojos and dojang. His arms were crossed behind his back as light blue hanto was draped over his frame.

"You as well Gráinne," he addressed me with a simple shift of his eyes.

"Um....hello Itoke-sensei," I said remembering the basics of honorifics.

"Soke, Itoke-soke," he corrected me, "Tolman is your sensei. I am the head of teaching therefore I am the soke."

"Apologies soke, while I have Japanese family I have not had the best education in proper manners," I replied with a blush of shame.

"Well, it is good to know you understand the uniform requirements for this school," he replied to me and offered a small smirk.

"Gráinne Ní Callaghan," said a tall curvaceous black woman standing nearby Ito. A black bodysuit covered her body and revealed every precise curve of her muscles. Her hair was braided and beaded back from what I could only guess was hours of work. A finely manicured eyebrow rose as she gave me a questioning look. Tolman's lips tense and a small shift of her brown eyes gave me the feeling she was unimpressed with me.

"Ye-yes, Tolman-sensei?" I stuttered. My hands wrung together as I couldn't control how my eyes darted across all the children.

"Once the current spar is done," she continued and used her right thumb to direct my vision to two girls currently facing off against one another.

"I...I'd like to request that I only spar with women," I said anxiously.

"What?" Tolman asked me.

"I'm...I'm a rager," I sputtered.

"The white band on your arm makes that rather clear," Tolman-sensei chided me.

"Yes...but I was nearly raped at my last school and I-." I stopped as I caught Tolman's expression. A flash of anger across her face as she shifted her stance from one foot to the other and popped out her right hip.

"Understood. I will speak with Ito-soke about this. Your opponent will be Tamahagane, she's currently fighting Kitty," Tolman-sensei informed me and pointed to the current conflict. A fox-eared woman with obvious Exemplar curves was fencing up against the girl from Music Class. I watched as the Japanese girl used a bodkin to slap aside the fox girl's weapon before breaking her hold with a quick strike to her sword-bearing wrist. It was as the redhead drew closer I finally noticed her wavering twin-tails. Wait, was she some kind of Kitsune? A GSD?

"Match to Haruko, well done Fujiwara-chan," Ito said simply.

"Domo Arigatou gozaimasu Ito-soke," she snapped. Did she always have an eye patch?

"Fox, you have shown an improvement since you joined us last year." Tolman-sensei was the one to speak as she traded a smile with Ito-soke.

"I want you to continue your training with Miss Beaumont as soon as possible. You have improved greatly, and I believe you should consider speaking to Beaumont about Iiajutsu." Her words were delivered with succinct precision.

"Oui, Maître d'Armes," Kitty replied before taking a seat among the rest of the spectating students.

"Fujiwara-chan, you will now spar with Miss O'Callaghan," Ito-soke smiled as he addressed the sword-wielding girl with a friendly honorific. Strange, why was I still Miss O'Callaghan?

"Hai, soke!" Haruko said and gave a snide smile. I walked out onto the circle and felt everyone's eyes on me. I had no combat experience what so ever so this was likely to be short and painful.

"This spar will be strength and skill only. No weapons or holdouts allowed! No usage of any other power other than your speed, dexterity and what you as a student can bring to the floor!" snapped Tolman-sensei, “Hajime!”

I glanced at Haruko as the woman's rosebud shaped lips were set in a thin line. Her brown eyes watched me as she offered me a small bow and I returned it with hands at my sides. I'd seen enough karate combat on the internet to understand I wasn't going to piss off my opponent by not returning a bow. There was a moment of silence as I slowed my breathing so I could gain a modicum of focus and calm my nerves.

Absentmindedly, I felt my eyes wandering their gaze over the crowd and found familiar black hair and light Tuscan tanned face. I froze on her green eyes as I tried to not catch her looking at me, and just as I was about to turn one thing, well two happened. First, I heard the word

"BEGIN" shouted by Tolman-sensei, and second I felt the impact of a hard two punches to the front of my face.

"Tch, fight harder!" Haruko growled at me as she prepared to deliver another two hard punches to my face. I jumped back trying to put distance between us and found her pushing the attack. Three solid punches and a kick aimed at my middle and all I could do was use my shin to barely block it. With my Exemplar strength, I was easily able to weather the beating, but she was pushing me back and forced me to try something. Jumping over her I spun around to deliver a downward punch ended up hitting the ground as she rolled out of the way.

"Such a damn shame! Keep trying Aka-chan," she smiled at me.

"SHUT UP!" I snapped as I could feel my anger boiling up as it did. My eyes narrowed and I snarled while running at her. She sidestepped me and sent me skidding on my knees.

"How can an Exemplar be so terrible," she said just as she kicked my head causing me to see stars.

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed and lunged at her leading to two tattooed arms grabbing my hand and throwing me over her shoulder to land just outside the circle. Some of the kids had to jump out of the way to avoid colliding with my flying body.

"Ow!” I groaned as I hit the ground hard and I heard the command of, “Yame!” from Tolman-sensei.

"I see your lack of combat skill is worse than expected," Tolman-sensei said to me as I looked up at her from the ground. She offered me her hand and I took it to stand.

"I..I've never had combat training," I said carefully as a few in the class gave me sympathetic smiles.

"This means you'll need a tutor," Tolman-sensei said to me.

"I assume you will be assigning me one before the end of class?" I asked as a small joke.

"Miss O'Callaghan, you will be informed of your tutoring period after I speak with your faculty advisor," Tolman-sensei said to me in all seriousness. I had a faculty advisor? Who the hell could that be?

"Sit down and listen, lass. Ye have a lot of work cut of for ye." Morgan's words broke her silence throughout the spar as I stared at my bruised hands and the dust covering my chest from hitting the ground. "You have the strength and the rage for battle, lass. We just need the knowledge to back it up."

As always Obi-Wan in my head was clear and vague in what she meant, and to be honest I was surprised she didn't find offense to being compared to a Jedi. "He was a wise man," Tolman-sensei called for everyone's attention as Ito-soke began to lecture us all on the necessity to defend ourselves. I mean, I was only what about a month or two behind the school curriculum.

Just After Lunch, November 12th, 2007 - Whateley Campus

Scald-Crow
As I walked out of the Lunchroom I took a second to think and already it felt like I was running in place. Even at the beginning of my first day as I moved through the hours, a pattern was emerging. Perhaps it was because my ancestors were Gaelic warriors on one side and Norse vikingr on another, but I felt the bands of fate tying themselves to me. I wouldn't think of it right then and there, but later I sensed I would look back and see where it all led to. In a daze, I bussed my tray and waved goodbye to Sophia as padded out the front door of Crystal Hall.

I slowed and leaned against one of the chairs in Schuster's grand opening hall. The animation on my phone indicated my sister was writing something and I stared at the screen until the text appeared.

Sloan: The first deposition today for mom and dad's lawsuit happened. It was pretty epic! Mister Jameson let me watch as he tore apart your stupid former Principal. Oh my god, I swear she was either going to burst into tears or worse. It was just fucking great!

Leave it to my sister to have a serious case of schadenfreude when the enemies of my family meet a slow end. In a moment of pure joy, I pumped my fist into the air and shimmied a little. Just like Sloan, I enjoyed seeing my enemies driven before me! I even let out a little yip of happiness as a few of the nearby students froze and stared at me as if I'd grown a third head. Of course, that's when fate or more specifically my spirit decided to drop a bit of chaos on my head.

"Her. Of all the feckin bints to see, we run into -her-." I blink for a moment as I try to figure out what's going on and I notice the redhead walking by with a curvy umber skinned girl I could only assume was the infamous, Chaka.

"Which one? You aren't helping, those are two of the big players of Kimba," I sighed under my breath.

"THE SIDHE, THE FEY! HER THAT IS HER!" I can feel a feral reaction as I let out a loud, "SERIOUSLY?"

"Yo, what's up with you?" Chaka asked me as she stopped and stared at me. Her right hip was cocked as she placed a hand on it giving a pretty obvious expression of expectation.

"Um....hi I'm Gráinne," I spit out like an idiot.

"The new girl in Poe they stuck with Shipwright, right," the redhead says. Nikki, or Fey, now her I knew of her from a model page, I kept from last summer. I mean how could I not she was drop-dead gorgeous.

"Yeah...Gráinne codenamed Scald-Crow," I said giving a shameless shrug and adding, "Avatar 3, Exemplar 4 and Wizard 1."

"Niceta meetcha!" Chaka chirped at me with a smile that bled rambunctious energy.

"So why did you scream?" Nikki inquired as not only did I scream I also revealed my sharped teeth in a predatory snarl.

"Oh...my spirit, she says that your some kind of big shot," I said trying not to show my hand. Both girls were from Poe, yet I still didn't know them. People I don't know are people I can't trust.

"High and mighty upon her throne with the nine! We went to war and even now....where is she?" Morgan was muttering in the back of my mind.

"I...I once had a Spirit of-" she began.

I finished her line out of nowhere, "Aunghadhail."

"How did you know that?" she asked me perplexed.

I didn't it was then I realized that Morgan's determination had paired her words through my mouth. She hadn't possessed me but inserted the word into my speech.

"Morgan, my spirit, she...knew of Aunghadhail." All I could do was shrug.

"Wait, how come she can say Unga-bunga correctly?" Chaka asked curiously.

"...It's a name using Gaelic syllables...." I deadpanned at her.

"Is that how you say it?" Chaka pushed Nikki.

"I mean - I guess." Nikki gave a roll of her eyes before giving a demonstrative sigh and pinching her nose.

"How do you know it?" Chaka pushed as she seemed to start bouncing on the spot.

"Uh...my spirit is teaching me," I responded.

"Why?" she asked.

"Cuz she's from Ireland." This was getting old fast.

"Look I have to get to my next class," I said as I started to beat a quick retreat.

"See you then!" chirped Chaka while the two continued on their way.

"What in the world got into you?" I murmured to Morgan. There wasn't any point in speaking aloud to my spirit, but it did put my thoughts into perspective.

"I didn't think...she would come back. That any of them would come back! The nightmare that keeps my memories at bay only lets me see through for small periods of time." Another new side of the spirit bound in my body. "The First Princes wove it tight to prevent the madness of the dream from destroying us."

"What does all of that mean?" I snapped. More exposition from my spirit and just as she was about to say something I heard a sound similar to what I could only consider a pause.

"You aren't ready for it."

With a stomp in frustration, I took off towards my next class.

Afternoon, November 12th, 2007 - Schuster Hall

Scald-Crow
"An raibh tú ar an gCarraig, nó an bhfaca tú féin mo ghrá." I sang to myself as I strolled through the hall outside the classrooms of Schuster still excited from Powers Theory in period five. My backpack was barely a weight on my shoulder as I didn't bother to use my locker when all of my books barely weighed a thing to me. The song stayed on my lips as I was walking in circles just before the bell sounded. A group of students were slowly meandering their way to the assigned room and immediately noticed my red armband. One of them, a perky looking brunette was the first to walk over to me.

"Hi," she said and gave a little wave. I ran my memory on who she was.

"You've been sitting with Shipwright at the Underdog table," she started, "Grannah right?"

"Grahn-yuh," I answered slowly trying my best to be polite, "I just...arrived two days ago."

"Wow, so you're an avatar?" she asked. I noticed she had a slightly rodent-esque nature to her though it was hard for me to nail down what.

"Yeah....um...you're Aquana?" I asked really feeling stupid I didn't know her name.

"Aquerna...I'm bonded to a squirrel spirit," she smiled.

"That's so cool!" I replied.

"Really?" she asked her eyes widening with excitement.

"Yes. I'm from the Northwest. I mean it's no big deal, but squirrels there will chatter and natter at almost anything. Little bastards will stand up to house cats, full-size pit bulls and a lot more from their trees. But, they also are pretty awesome at jumping from the thirty foot tall Douglas
Firs to others." I gave a shrug and offered her a smile.

"That's a whole lot of words," Aquerna said before smirking at me.

"Sorry! I am so shitty at peopling," I sighed and she winced when I swore, "Sorry...my spirit and I are pretty foul-mouthed. I've already been almost given detention over it."

True story, I was in World History and described the Pilgrims as "fucking idiots" while answering a question and the teacher had already warned me. What, it wasn't my fault I was battered for days with Sophia's blunt opinion on colonization. It didn't help that I actually read textbooks and several were quite clear that the early settlers of American really didn't seem to know what the hell they were doing. I mean don't even get me started on James Town!

"I can understand that. So...what kind of spirit are you bonded too?" she asked me and opened the door for me as we entered the class.

"She's an Irish spirit and I think she's pretty old."

"Rude little bint." Morgan suddenly spoke up in the recesses of my mind.

"Morgan's her name. In my dream-space, she's like seven feet tall and looks like she could kick Braveheart's butt!" I smiled.

"Wallace was an okay bastard, Bannockburn still brings a tear to my eye." I blinked at her comment and found a seat near the back of the classroom.

"Do you mind if I sit here with you?" Aquerna asked me a little timidly as I gave her a confused look.

"You want to sit near the rager?" I returned her question with my own.

"Sure why not, Lexi likes you, and you even seem nice to everyone at the Underdog's table." She began unpacking her bag and unfolded a workbook and spiral-bound notebook.

"I was bullied a lot at my last school. My own principal was gleefully going to hand me over to the MCO," I said slowly breathing to maintain my composure, "and if my friend' Sophia's grandfather hadn't been there with the 'rents I was sure it was over."

"That sucks, I'm sorry you had to experience all of that," Aquerna nodded.

"Yeah, it's not so bad. I mean, Morgan's made me really strong, and she's teaching me a bunch of languages." I smiled.

"Nice! All my spirit does is basically squirrel skills, though I can talk to squirrels too!" I watched her deflate for a second before fighting back her self depreciation.

"I can punch things hard. That's it, I even got my butt kicked in BMA today since I don't even know how to fight," I sighed.
Aquerna was about to speak before the door to the classroom opened and the last of the class started to file in.

"Dang...Aquerna, what's your name?" I asked.

"Anna." She smiled before turning her attention to the front of the class. I gave a small nod as the teacher made his way to the front of the class. He was a slightly chubby man wearing a lab coat. One of his lapels was completely covered in a hodge-podge of pins which I could only guess were from the various clubs on campus.

"This girl is almost Draoi like you. She will make a worthy ally." Morgan spoke up out of the blue as Dr. Hewley finished arranging his classwork for the day.

'Why are you talking now?' I thought in return to Morgan.

"I've been thinking...there is much here I thought all gone. New avenues and threats to sit on." Her words faltered as she made a telepathic 'hmmm'. It was then that I noticed entering and walking not far behind Dr. Hewley were a pair of young women a little older than myself. The oldest of the two had vivid red hair and an obviously blooming exemplar figure. She was far curvier than me in the top and her eyes flashed with analytical intelligence. She was wearing the blazer of an upperclassman and a black-tie from Poe. Her companion was a native woman with similar ochre skin as Sophia, but that's where the two differed. Her hair was a dark straight brown I was envious of (come on I have the hair from hell) and she was about my height making her maybe five-sixish. A soft heart-shaped face with distinctive cheekbones and kissable lips.

"There is a change in the essence here...other Spirits, Powers." Morgan's muttering continued as I felt her moving in me and gave a small shudder. "Sorry my heart, but those two have...powerful allies. One...is connected to a notable noble and one -not- to be taken lightly."

'Morgan. You need to tell me more about this...soon. I feel like I'm in some shitty anime prologue episode with all the useless foreshadowing you are giving me.' I responded telepathically to her. It was hard to focus enough with class beginning. The two girls from before took a seat as Dr. Hewley leaned over his materials on the podium and cleared his throat. Immediately, everyone in class snapped to meet his gaze.

"Welcome once again everyone to Avatars I or as some students call it, Spirits I." Dr. Hewley began his opening lecture for the day. "We have a new student with us today, Gráinne Ní Callaghan, a young avatar from Washington State!"

Immediately upon having my name given I stood and gave a very embarrassed wave to the rest of the class. Anna gave me a quirky cute smile as I sat down after a moment.

I was able to pick up some of the audible background noise from the other students:

"She's a rager? Why are they letting her into our class?"

"I heard she killed a Humanity First bastard back home."

"Is she the second coming of Fey with hair like that?"

I closed my eyes half-way as I placed my head in my hands and put my head down. "Don't tell them too much about me lass. We don't know much about this school yet."

"Gráinne, what can you tell us about your spirit?" Dr. Hewley addressed me with a genuine smile. I perked up in place and gripped the edge of the table to center myself. Just like Dr. Hewley I inhaled before speaking and breathed out very slowly to finish calming myself.

"I'm...Gráinne...codename 'Scald-Crow'. I'm bonded to a spirit named Morgan, and from what I can tell she's an Irish Spirit of passion." I decided to give them the generic spiel on my spirit.

"Interesting, very interesting," Dr. Hewley was giving the stereotypical fascinated professor chin rub. All I could do was give a small shrug as he immediately began a simple recitation from what I guessed was another lecture. The gist of which explained the nature of spirits symbiotic bond forged between them and avatars. Personally, it was a simple review and provided me with a lot more to work on understanding why
Morgan needed me. But, I mean, Avatars from what Dr. Hewley explained weren't exactly common, but we weren't that rare. There had to be another one closer to Morgan when her previous host was murdered., So, why did she pick me?

"I chose you, my heart because you are Draoi. You carry the necessary lineage for me to properly bond with you. And we are of like mind and soul in so many ways."

"Now, as part of an ongoing upperclassmen guest lectures today Kayda Franks, or Pejuta, will be talking about her experiences as an avatar and channeler."

The Native American girl walked to the front of the class after receiving a fairly intimate look from the redhead. This wasn't romantic, but one forged from family. "Blood-sisters. Spear-sisters. That is what we would call them long ago." Her words made sense as the girl, Kayda, I guessed stood at the podium at the front of the class.

"Hey," she began slowly her body language showed just the tiniest bit of anxiety. She glanced over at the redhead who offered her a confident smile and started once again.

"Hey everyone, I'm Kayda Franks - and I'm a class five Avatar," she said and I saw her gulp. "There is a great weight on her shoulders, my heart, a Power of the Center walks with her." 

"Some of you know me from last year, and the rest, yeah, I'm here to talk to you about the different kinds of Avatar and how Spirits interact with us." I sat up in my seat as she spoke and I raised my hand out of the blue.

"Um...Kayda, are you referring to Paladins and Channelers?" I asked. In learning what I was, I had scoured the internet looking for as many crackpot theories as I could. A site dedicated to "Mutant Watching" had said that Channelers were devil infused warlocks and that Paladins were the freaks of history bringing an unholy crusade. Yeah, I read some bullshit "Coming Apocalypse" stuff, but I was able to read between the lines.

"I wasn't going to but, that's actually a good topic," she seemed to brighten as she recognized my tie. Yup, she was a Posie, and I was too. Offering a smile I waited for her to continue.

"As an Avatar, I host Tatanka, the White Buffalo Spirit of my people, the Lakota," I nodded along with the others, "I also host a second spirit, Ptesanwi, who allows me to channel the great spirit, Wakan Tanka."

"Um, Kayda, what's the difference between a Paladin and Channel versus an Avatar?" Aquerna was the next to raise her hand and ask.

"From what I understand it - um - a Paladin hosts only a small part of a Spirit." She exhaled slowly, as someone who was of like mind. Whenever I was up for class presentations I would shake with every movement as my voice ran clear. I was watching Kayda carefully as I noticed the small tremor in her wrists and how she was attempting to control her breathing.

"And a channeler does just that - channel the spiritual energy of a spirit," she said and I noticed how she finished her lecture. 

"What's the difference then? How are you different from any other Avatar?" a kid asked in a snarky voice. I couldn't place the speaker as I was busily keeping an eye on Kayda. Finally, I was able to pinpoint the kid after a few seconds of tracking the snobby arrogance of a football-linebacker built teenager. Great, another fellow Exemplar, and one who was using his newfound appearance to be a dick - just great! Thick shoulders, brown hair in a military buzz cut, and what I could see was a Melville purple tie.

"I'm one of the few noted dual spirited Avatars," she replied with a bit of fire entering her voice, "and but one of my spirits gives me access to the greater teachings of a major Power."

The kid didn't even really explain himself as Kayda stepped aside to let Dr. Hewley take over the day’s lecture. He immediately began to discuss the wide difference of Avatar sub-traits to everyone. I kept an eye on the linebacker as the kid was busily writing out notes on what looked like a high-end tablet. He gave me a skeevy vibe as he looked up and a pair of blue eyes spied me. I immediately looked down as an ashamed blush came to my face.

"He's not looking at you anymore," said a whisper from a seat nearby. Raising my head I blushed as I came face to face with the curvy bust of the Fox-girl from BMA.

"I -hate jocks-," I seethed through gritted teeth.

"I haven't had the best experiences with them either," the girl said and gave me a two-finger wave, "oh, Kitty or Catherine by the way."

"Gráinne," I replied as I returned it. We both eyed Dr. Hewley who was quietly checking a few notes and letting kids catch-up with what he'd written down on the whiteboard behind him.

"That dick's been sniping at Kayda and the other guest Lecturers whenever he can," Kitty said to me as her ears flicked absently, "typical goomba hormonal bullshit too. Always trying to get a look down their shirts."

"This lass smells of fox, and I don't mean her tails or ears." My spirit commented before I could reply.

"So you know Kayda?" I decided to ask.

"Yeah!" she said before slowly jotting down a series of notes on Paladin spirit shards.  "I joined Whateley late last year after some shit in Seattle around last winter," she shrugged.

"You talking about the Overlord Coffee Caper?" I giggled in return.

"Don't get me started on that Gaius Baltar reject," Kitty smirked.  "He has the fashion sense of Judge Dredd with half the moral fiber"

"What you get from C-List Villains," I laughed even harder.

"Ladies, would you two like to share with what is so funny with the rest of the class?" Dr. Hewley Chimed in as the rest of the class stared at us. 

"Nothing Dr. Hewley," I said bashfully.

Class went back to the doldrums after that. Jock's'McGee was still using his stupid tablet to keep his notes while trying to rubberneck a few little glances at the nearest girls. Goddess, I was so happy I was a fucking lesbian at this point. A few of the girls at Poe were already trying to steal a few views of my own assets, but at least I wouldn't have to navigate the world of hetero dating.

Class ended without a bang and I found myself shuffling past the jock. Just as I was about to get past him he stood and inched out in front of me causing my heart to jump. What did this shit want? I got a good look at him, he was Bradley Finkbonner as an Exemplar. Tall, full broad shoulders; a chest hard enough to cut diamond.  Yeah, if I was straight I'd find him hot if you didn’t get my drift. Except, his body had the exact opposite reaction he wanted.

"So - new girl?" he phrased a disjointed question to me.

"Gráinne," I said tersely. "What do you want?"

"Just want to welcome you to Whateley," he offered his hand and I quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay," I said and took it and gave him a hard firm handshake. His eyes didn't even widen when he saw my Ultra-Violent armband. There was a minute shift in his hand as he let go and canted his head to view me with a quirked eyebrow.

"There is something off about this one," Morgan growled from the recesses of my mind.

"Yeah, I um, killed a Humanity First guy who was attacking my family," it slipped out of my mouth before I could really explain.

"Not bad hot stuff, attractive and already blooded on the enemy. We should have coffee sometime," he said before stepping away and making his way. The dick didn't even give me a name as I watched him leave I felt my heart rate pounding loudly in my ears. I had been able to control my reaction long enough, but still, already I could feel phantom hands gliding over my chest and behind. A small squeak escaped from my mouth as I zipped out of the classroom as fast as I could.

 

---

 

Chapter 4 - Nose To The Grindstone

Early Morning, November 14th, 2007 - The Dreamscape

Scald-Crow

The moors of my dreams were filled with fog not unlike when I met the Banshee. The fog itself rolled two feet above the ground and as I dashed into the bank it moved around me. My feet were encased in a pair of hiking boots as my legs were covered in a pair of skinny jeans. The extra footing helped me as the tight green sweater kept me warm in the morning chill. I crested the hill just in time to see the sun in my dream rise and flood the bogland with light. The warmth came over me as I walked down the worn zig-zagged trail. Unlike the moor's of Scotland there was open bog everywhere and if I didn't know what lay beneath it could easily appear like the rest of the grass.

I came to stand near a dolmen, two tall stones stood up to bear a third. If you've seen Stone Henge, this was a simpler more primitive version of it. A spiral was carved into one side and I ran my hands over it feeling the carefully chipped indents. Power was suffused into the rock and every time my fingers made contact a small charge of green energy arced to my fingertips.

"Me inheritance is bound inta that stone an' the ring behind me," I knew the voice well. Behind me was Morgan in all her ancient Celtic glory. Her body fitted with a tight leather armored jerkin under a long skirt of chainmail. In one hand was a red-silver headed spear and in the other, a shield painted black with a gold spiral.

"You going to tell me more about who you are? Why you were growling about an ancient elf Queen?" I turned around and crossed my arms.

"Witin reason," she replied before resting her shield and spear against a stone in the large ring we always met at.

"Great, more mystery tropes," I sighed and rubbed my jaw.

"It is hard fer me ta tell you everything," she said as sighed, "I'm still healing fram the damage given ta me when we met."

I gave a nod slowly before saying, "You aren't messing with me?"

"Me folk can’t lie Lil' one. I can twist werds like the best of em," she began to remove her jerk and cast it off beside her spear. Just above her heart was a massive tear in her body, and it leaked a strange eerie green fire.

"When the Dullahan killed Sinead, she wounded me sa deeply it's taken weeks fer me to put together what I remember of me past." She let out a demonstrative sigh before pointing to the area around her.

"What is this place ta ye lass?" she asked me.

"A stone circle and that's a dolmen," I pointed to sculpture behind me.

"No. This be sacred ground," she said to me and walked overturning me to face the full circle.

"This isn't in Eire, Gráinne, we are in Tír Eile, the Otherworld." Her words took a few moments to sink in.

"My dreamscape is in a mystical faerie elfland?" I asked. She smiled at me as she drew me around the massive rock to reveal a small kettle boiling on a fire.

"Yes and no." She replied before she continued her Yoda level exposition. "Yer a draoi my love, a druid, an old-line capable of seeing portents, healing and more. My clan can only bond with yours."

She'd said that before and it made sense. From what I could put together from stories on the internet and a few other things some Spirits were deeply tied to cultural history. I mean it made sense especially with the girl on campus bonded to a Lakota Totem.

"So what are you then?" I asked her, "You didn't say you were the Morrígan, but you sure seem to have a lot of mythological connections to her."

"Morrígan ain't a person, lass, it's a title. Just like Nemain and Macha, my sisters and I earned it before it all went ta shit." She sat me down on a log by the fire and moved to sit across on the ground from me. The pot smelled fantastic and as she placed a wooden spoon into it I could see a thick brown stew boiling away.

"Whiskey and beef stew, with some carrots and other bits added." She murmured.

"That smells wonderful," I commented and found a bowl placed into my hands, "So. Explain it, whatever you can."

"Foine, foine," her accent stressed as she ladled some stew into my bowl and gave me a spoon.

"Whatever you can," I chided her.

Another demonstrative sigh and the seven-foot redhead heaved a deep breath.

"Time broke millions of years ago kid. The high civilizations of then were doing fine in a nice little Empire. Me, I don't remember much, but some terrible idiot decided to do what they do, open up a can of worms not meant for anyone. The literal madness of that little racist fuck Lovecraft unleashed on the world." She took a long draught from her stew and let out a satisfied aw. "So, Aughadhail, an' the other lasses of her ilk burned out- feckin' time."

"Let me guess they call it something ridiculous like the Cataclysm I chuckled," she looked up from her stew and glared.

"No, Sundering, an' it was hell on fuckin eart," she slurred.

"Sorry sorry!" I said.

"IT KILLED MY SISTERS," she growled and I placed up my hands to placate her.

"Morgan, I'm sorry," I felt tears in my eyes.

"I know lass...it hurts me deep to think I, the youngest, am still extant through sheer luck," she moved to sit beside me and I found her hugging me hard enough to press the breath from my lungs.

"So...I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that your family put shit back together," I asked her.

"Yes...my da and his friends wove up a terrible spell that kept us all from going mad and gave us the Otherworld." She said to me with all the sobering emotions of two best friends reliving war stories. I tried to put it all together from what I'd read and heard through my life. The Otherworld was a place of the faerie, and other related monsters.

"If you aren't a god what are you?" I asked her finally.

"I'm what yer ancestors called the Gentry or the Fair Folk," she sighed as she released, "A Faerie."

"I kind of figured with that accent, and the Irish ladened mythological references," I smiled.

"Ye -just- made that connection," she snapped.

"Ye think I be that stupid?" I growled back at her.

"No, but yer too easy to toy wit," she laughed loudly.

I finished the stew and let the taste linger in my mouth. It was heavenly, and it filled me so thoroughly I felt completely at peace after eating what was offered. Wasn't there some sort of prohibition to never take the food of the fae? Perhaps I should do some more research on the subject.

"Isn't there a thing about not taking food from the underworld or perhaps, faeries?" I decided to just blurt out.

"Nah, jus pomegranate seeds," she chuckled.

"Do you remember anything else?" I asked her as she took my bowl from me.

"The Sidhe. They were a powerful people, an' they lorded it above others," she said leaning forward to plant her elbows atop her knees.

"Anything else?" I asked as I drew myself closer beside her.

"No...that's all the lore I got in me, fer now," she said before patting my head. I stared up into the sky and admired the eerie blue color that is just off-color enough to sit in the uncanny valley. Letting my thoughts drift away I decided to just experience my time in the dream. By the gods, I sure needed the relaxation.

Period One, November 14th, 2007 - Laird Hall

Scald-Crow
The impact jarred my arm as I barely blocked a kick from my opponent. My hands snapped up to catch a punch, but it moved so fast it connected with my jaw. Stars blossomed in my field of vision while my center of balance threatened a feeling of vertigo. Again the punch came and I was able to bob my head out of the way. One would think I'd have the increased reaction time to fight against a girl with only a minor energizer rating. Haruko was smiling like a madwoman as she delivered two more quick punches to my face. I was only able to dodge the first as the second snapped my jaw around. Again I saw stars.

"You suck at this," she sneered at me as I kicked her in the solar plexus, hard. The impact barely seemed to phase her beside a minor wince. I could see her jaw straining as Haruko's eyes narrowed to a squint. What the hell was she going to do next?

The woman suddenly rolled to my side and landed a spin kick against my legs sweeping me off my feet. I tried to compensate, but all I could do was land hard with my leg outside the circle. The actual impact left me winded as I hit the ground on my right side knocking the air out of my lungs. A hand was thrust in my face as I took it and Haruko helped me to my feet. The Asian woman offered me a bow with both hands at her side. My face flushed bright red in embarrassment. Tolman-sensei was waiting outside our ring as she pulled Haruko aside.

"She's improved a small margin," Haruko commented her arms crossed. Sensei quirked an eyebrow before giving a slow nod.

"Gráinne," Tolman-sensei caught my attention, "Usually I would have you continue to spar to gain live experience."

"But I'm abysmal," I sighed.

"No, but your Rager trigger places a limitation on who I can have you face," Tolman-sensei said.

"I know," I blushed as I watched her, the woman was thumbing her face. "Haruko."

"Hai, Sensei?" she asked as she glanced at me, "What do you wish?"

"I’m assigning you to work with Haruko and your roommate on the weekends. You can use the sparring arena here during open hours in Laird Hall." She stated the new facts of life to me. I say this because obviously there was no way I would attempt to get out of a woman who dressed like a bond villainess's assignment. when she gave me an assignment.

"Heh, Senpai aaand Kohai!" Haruko pointed to herself and then me. I was about to protest to her when she back away giving me two sarcastic thumbs up.

"DAMMIT!" I growled before turning around to see Tolman-sensei watching me, "uuuh sorry sensei."

"Language kid," she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, sensei!" I stammered.

"Okay, Esoteric you're up. I want you two just to do a simple spar, try to hold back your strength Scald-Crow." Tolman-sensei pointed at a blonde androgynous-looking girl who I'd seen around Poe. She stood up and gave me a wary glance before falling into a rough stance in front of me. Haruko whistled loudly as she sat beside our ring and Tolmen called out for the spar to begin.

I made the first move, two strides forward and I just tried a very light strike. Esoteric blocked it, but I could see her stagger a little bit before she recovered. What was she? I tried to remember the stats I'd heard throughout the week and hers weren't coming to mind. SHIT! She delivered a solid kick to my chest. The impact wasn't hard enough to really hurt me, but she was trying. It left me wondering what her traits and class levels could be. I kept running the numbers as I tried to plant my foot against her chest to send her out of the ring. The girl punched my leg away and I lost my balance. Wavering on my feet I hopped back to give me a few seconds to recover.

"Esoteric, hold your arms up to block," Toman-sensei said as Esoteric followed suit as I tried to deliver a punch. Instead, I slashed with my right hand, and just enough force to force her to move. Her eyes winced and I heard a hard intake of breath. Oh my god did I hurt her? FUCK! My opening was seized and I found a foot in my face. I barely caught it and just as anger filled me at my own weakness I nearly threw the poor girl out of the ring. Actually, I was about to do just that when Tolman-sensei stopped me.

"Okay, I don't need you throwing people right now," she corrected me and our spar began again. A minute in I was punching at Esoteric for her only to dodge the first two. "Punch twice, fake the second and kick her hard." The commentary came out from Morgan as I did just as she said. A quick one-two and just as my left fist went to connect with her block and just as I dropped my left foot swung hard into Eosteric's open hip. My opponent spun around and just as she shuffled to retain her stance, I pushed my advantage. Now I was going to attempt a crescent kick with my right leg. Lashing out my leg was arcing well in motion before I caught her shoulder far too hard.

There wasn't a crunch of bone, but Tolman-sensei was definitely not having it with my bravado. Erin spun around once before falling to the ground hard and I heard the loud, "YAME!"

I immediately raised my hands as Tolman-sensei walked over to examine Erin. Haruko glided to wait beside me as I could see the pained look of disappointment on her face. "Dun try too much till ye have bettar control." Morgan drawled to me in my head. Tolman-sensei turned around to face me and Haruko, her mouth was in a tight grim line and her eyes bore into me.

"Haruko," the woman barked just as she rose from kneeling beside Esoteric who appeared to be going into shock. "I need you to go get Chief Jenkins. Now."

My erstwhile tutor and all I could call my "rival" darted across the gym. I watched her leave as my anxiety spiked on the spot. A few seconds later she returned empty-handed, her eyepatch disheveled and almost unmasking her eye.

"Sensei, I wasn't able to find the Chief or any other assigned Corpsman at the desk." Tolmen-sensei scanned the entirety of the gym before pointing to something out of sight as I didn't dare let my eyes wander. "The Chief is likely attending to another injury. Just inside the door leading to the lockers is an emergency line directly to Doyle. Call in a power litter from Doyle, tell them we have a dislocated shoulder and likely a fractured clavicle."

DAMMMIT! My teeth nearly creaked from how hard I grit them as I kicked myself. Sure, I just had to show off right?

"Now, Miss Ní Callaghan," her words have carefully enunciated the words as she drew my attention. "-EVERY- single Saturday and Sunday with Haruko and Sophia. I'll assign MORE tutoring partners until you get a handle on your strength."

"Yes sensei! I'm sorry...I know I'm not as strong as others," I reached up and rubbed my nose. What else could go wrong today?!

"You aren't my first bullheaded student, kid," she said.

"What is Ito-soke going to say," I asked nervously.

"He already knew you were going to do something dumb. We just weren't sure if you'd hurt yourself or someone else. This was just the moment you needed to let it hit you hard enough to get your head out of the clouds," she said nonchalantly.

"Yes, sensei." Dammit, yup I just got my ass handed to me in the form of a batch of wisdom, Mister Miyagi style.

Just Before Dinner, November 14th, 2007 - Whateley, Campus

Scald-Crow
"Watch as we tread, my heart, the quiet at the crossroads means a devil is waiting." Morgan's words warned me as I walked out of the door from my last class before dinner. My insides were starting to ache as my body demanded nutrients and my mouth salivated at the very thought of fresh meat to devour. Yeah, the longer I've been here the more and more I've found myself eating. Biology class did mention some animals had to eat large portions of meat to maintain themselves, and they had a weird name for it. What was it? Obligated predator? Nah that wasn't right. Duh - I'm stupid, obligate carnivore! Yeah, I was - great I'm now the human version of a fucking jaguar.

"Less internal dialog mar situational awareness Luv." Again Morgan shoved me back into the reality of the here and now. I was standing near one of the large trees which decorated the campus along the main walkway. A quick survey of the area showed no red flags flying so I could be a little less "normal" while out and about. Just one look down at my body showed that my skills at dressing myself were getting cleaner. I always had that hot mess angle going though and I gave a frustrated sigh as my skills at 'Girling' were still kind of shitty.

"Dun warry ta much Summer Rose. Ye just aren't fully in bloom yet." The light eastern brogue helped me calm as I leaned up against the thick trunk of what I guess was an oak tree. There was not a soul near me and my personal space was being beyond respected. I could take this one itsy bitsy -moment- to catch my breath, right?

"Great -it’s you-," the contempt dripped from a comment in front of me. What the? My head shook as I immediately became sickeningly aware of the three girls standing perhaps fifteen paces away from me. Only teenaged mean girls talk like that, and only teenaged bitches stand in a sloppy u-shaped formation. Dammit. Not more shit! I just had to tempt the wyrd. DIDN'T I?

"Stupid Frosh," the blonde standing at the apex of the formation said with her hands on her hips. Oh, gods, it was that damn blonde I nearly plowed over a few days ago. Great! Just great! I'm already a target for the drama I escaped back home! Self-deprecating aside, I had to get my head in the game.

"Um....hello, I am Scald-Cro," what the hell why was I talking like Morgan.

"We don't care," one of them said, I think it was the brunette whose skin was starting to seemingly shift before my eyes. Goddamit I was facing a manifestor like Haruko?!

"You seriously think you can just run me over and walk away without -any- repercussions," the blond said as her arms crossed over her chest and she cocked her hip.

"No...sorry I," she let out a loud laugh just as I tried to defend myself and whatever it was it hurt my ears. What was this bint, a fucking sonokinetic?!

"You are going to stand there as we pound the shit out of you," she said simply.

"You know I'm a rager," I pointed at my armband.

"Sure, but it's soooo easy to just blame the attack on you," she replied.

Fuck my life, I was in mean girls.

"I saw how you kept staring at that Bad Seed slut earlier this week," the blond chuckled as the sound shook my head with pain. She was drawing closer, but I could tell she was intentionally staying out of reach. It was about right then and there I connected the color of their tie with their cottage. Each wore a dark purple tie with three gold stripes, and if my "Harry Potter" level of color assignment knowledge is right at least one of these bitches was from Melville. All this did was up the irony of having the rich kids cottage be the source of my torment.

WHY DO I ATTRACT PREPPY BULLIES?!

A Few Minutes Later, November 14th, 2007 - Whateley Campus

Envy
Fina straightened, feeling an ethereal breeze against the back of her neck. 

Turning in her comfortable chair at the study desk in her room, her concern heightened when she saw that the windows are closed. It wasn’t paranoia this time, the watcher she’d placed to keep an eye on Gráinne was warning her. Gráinne was in trouble. Not bothering to change out of her disheveled school uniform, without shoes or blazer and the shirt collar button was undone, she raised her hands, pulling energy into herself. With a slice of her fingers, she opens a portal from her room onto campus grounds, stepping through into the cold outside air.
Gráinne was staring at her, eyes wide. There were three girls facing her, a bitchy-looking blonde, a brunette with a gemstone fist and a moderately attractive redhead. Fina recognized them from her files on the cliques: Yellow Queen, Gem, and Taser from the Martial Arts Cheerleaders, Melville girls. “Envy?” Gráinne gasped, just as surprised as the others.

Fina’s skirt and blouse fluttered in the breeze as she grinned. “Hey, Scald. Stay right there and keep calm, I’ll be with you in one moment.”

"Hey!" The blonde shouted, her voice unnaturally piercing. "Why don't you go work a corner with your slut mother and stay out of our business!" One of her backup groupies did smooth three-finger snaps like she's been practicing.

Envy's smile didn't budge. "Girls, you're provoking a rager with a prominent UV band. For your own safety, I advise walking away before I'm forced to prevent possibly lethal harm to your persons."

The manifestor squeezed her hand into a tight, stone fist. "You and your psycho gimp gonna take all three of us on, frosh?"

"No," Fina said, relaxed, "just me."

The three girls looked meaningfully at each other as they smirked and giggled. "Just you? Against three of us? Can you see your own tonsils from how far your head's up your ass?"

The redhead's face flushed and she took a step back. Her entire body vibrated with anxiety as she was starting to shake with rage. Gráinne's eyes were becoming unfocused as she put at least fifteen feet between her and the other girls.

"So, you've got the sass down," Envy said, beckoning, "let's see if a bitch's bark is worse than her bite."

Snarling, the blonde took a sharp breath, about to let loose a sonic blast. Envy simply took a step forward, thrusting her palm into the girl's solar plexus. Her breath came out as a heaving wheeze, falling to her knees as she struggled to regain her breath. The other two paused, stunned for a moment as their brains caught up with Envy's speed. The manifestor recovered first, her fist sparkling in the street lights as the red stone fist flew for Envy's head. A pained expression burst across the Taser's face and morphed rapidly into a rabid snarl. "ANOTHER STUPID Worthless demon stained tart is not beating us, again!" As the growl tore out of Taser's throat she zig-zagged as she sped right into
Envy to deliver a electric spark laden kick directly at the Italian heiress' legs.

Envy grabbed Gem’s stone wrist, turned with the momentum of the blow until the girl's arm was fully extended, directing it away from her, then twisted and pushed. There was a loud pop as the girl shrieked, her arm flopping uselessly as Envy roughly guided her face to the pavement. As the energizer sped in from Envy's blindside, sparks flickering between her legs and the pavement, Envy continued to twist with her motion, leaping into a horizontal cartwheel. Both bare feet impacted with the last girl's face, one after the other. She spun, her kick arcing wild under Envy's body as she went down while Envy landed lightly on her feet.

Of the three, Gem and Taser went down harder, the sound of their bodies thudding on the ground with the expected "oof" making defeat all the more embarrassing. Yellow Queen glared, her eyes flickering between the Bad Seed and the rager. An idea twinkled in her eye as she regained her breath and let out a blast of sonic energy from her lips. Gem rolled out of the way in panic but Taser was caught in the blast, flat-footed, and thrown to one side

Stepping in front of Gráinne, Envy braced herself. Her mystic shield flared as the blast hit, converting a portion of the energy to light, though the sonic waves tore strips off her uniform. Gráinne shrieked in pain, collapsing onto the ground with her hands over her ears. Peeking up through squinting eyelids, Gráinne felt her heart pound at the feeling of Fina’s power.

Gem rose to her feet, ignoring the writhing and moaning Taser as she reformed her hard ruby quartz shell.

"Dammit not another fight!" someone nearby yelled, "stupid damn Poseies!" Bunches of students were starting to gather outside the surrounding buildings.

Glancing at the small crowd, Envy's clothes morphed into a skin-tight green suit, complete with a mask. Looking at Taser, who was out for the count lying face-down on the lawn, Envy shook her head. "Cut your losses, I can't hold back now."

"Crap." Yellow Queen sighed as she motioned for the other two to back off. Scowling, Gem picked Taser up, threw her over her shoulder and retreated behind Yellow Queen, who quickly followed.

Turning to Gráinne, Envy found the redhead on the ground curled into a ball, crying. Several of the kids nearby were pointing at the freshman as a few of the upperclassmen started to jeer. "Nice outfit Envy, great ass too!" hollered a male Sophomore sporting a purple and gold tie. He was a lean muscular type flanked by several other students obviously from the same cottage.

Turning on her heel, a blast of force knocked the jeering onlookers on their asses as Envy knelt next to Gráinne. "May I touch you?" Fina asked softly.

"Oh my god that hurt so much," she whimpered as she was obviously barely able to focus. For a moment the redhead didn't respond until she gave a weak nod in response to Envy's question. Easily picking Gráinne up, Envy cradled her gently in her arms as she walked towards the medical centre, ignoring the angry shouts from behind.

An hour later Envy found herself sitting outside a hospital room, while one of the physicians examined Gráinne, being grilled by a woman from Security.

"Miss Valocco, I understand you were concerned, but Forsythe is demanding to know why you were involved in a fight," the woman asked.

"I have a ward on Gráinne that alerts me to danger to her, miss, because I inducted her. I’m supposed to look out for her. When I arrived there 3were three girls provoking her, so I stepped in before Gráinne killed anyone."

"You aren't a security auxiliary, Valocco, you aren't supposed to be interceding like a damn hero." The woman gave a demonstrative sigh before tapping a pen against a notepad in her right hand. "You realize you'll be given detention for this. Likely it'll be Hartford you deal with."
Envy gave her a flat look. "Wow, I didn't realize the faculty hired morons. You want kids to die because they bully students with UV bands?
Which one of us was the card-carrying villain again? Wait, I think I've got my membership somewhere in this suit..."

"Haha, very funny kid." She said and growled, "Not all of us are syndicate shrews like Trout. I'm just citing policy at you to follow ye-old-ass-covering."

"Whatever. Detention, fine. I feel like this is the start of an ugly relationship, ma'am."

"I just do what Forsythe tells me to do. If anything you'll get off light whereas Yellow Queen and her friends are not looking too good." She laughed before flipping her notebook shut. "Reminds me of that shit Sara Waite pulled last year with them." The smile was genuine as she sighed, "Just watch your friend there. She's an Exemplar, but from what her file says she's got serious trauma in her past."

"Yeah, don't we all?" Sighing, Envy walked back to Gráinne.

More than a few minutes passed as Gráinne was laying down on a small hospital bed. The stark sanitized room of Doyle was almost torn straight out of a hospital drama. The redhead shifted in her sleep as she covered her right ear and whimpered in pain for a few short minutes.

Mid Day, November 14th, 2007 - North Station, Boston

Maeve
"I let you drag me all the way across the continent Second Lieutenant," Roberto sighed as he waited with Maeve for the train to come to a stop. Maeve dressed in a simple black wifebeater, boot cut black skinny jeans, and short heeled ankle boots. Over her shoulder was slung her leather jacket she'd bought back in Seattle from Nordstrom. She wanted on the blasted train as soon as possible so she could reach the next leg of her journey. The magical trace left along the railroad was very faint, but it was enough for her to know this was the correct line to have been on.

Roberto meanwhile was still in his bloody suit from before, and from what Maeve could tell carried multiple sets along the way to maintain that "suave men in black" look he loved so much. After being with the man for more than a few days she was fairly sure he wasn't the standard DPA Agent. He was always dressed well which made sense for an agent, but almost every day she caught him sitting alone reading terrible romance novels. Maeve concluded they were terrible because she stole one of the small cheap paperbacks from his bunk and it was soppingly painful to read. Now that they were finally arriving in Boston's North Station all she had to do was wait for the transfer to the train to Dunwich. That was all she had to do.

"Thank you for riding with us this lovely week, and have a great day in the fine city of Boston," elucidated the lead engineer of the train over the PA. Maeve snorted before immediately jumping over the gap between the open door and the platform. Baggage in hand she quickly outpaced Roberto who was following her with his own briefcase and small roller case.

"Dammit, I need to eat something," Agent Jimenez grouched from behind her. Maeve's eyes slowly rounded across the waiting area past the passenger platforms. A small foodcourt greeted her with a central area for public sitting. Roberto went straight for the small McDonald's located just outside the passenger gates to the platform. She herself focused on the one thing she needed most at the moment.

"I'm getting a coffee, I'll meet you back here in thirty," she said. The man canted his head before giving a slight nod. He turned around and left her alone. Maeve was immediately drawn to the mass production image of Starbucks. Her body was exhausted from focusing her witch senses out around her. The essence signature beat in this place just enough to tell her she was on the right track. However, she could feel her reserves were already at their weakest and she would need the train ride to recover what she'd lost.

Maeve gave her order to the cute barista at the counter, a quadruple shot tall latte. Leaning against the bar, she waited quietly and scanned the entire coffee shop for a place to sit. Like all dime a dozen places this one had a nice little copse of tables and chairs. What caught her interest was the prerequisite leather plush chair in the corner by the entrance. Walking over to it she dropped off her luggage to stake her claim before turning around to grab when her name was called. The cup itself was steaming hot as she took it and gave the girl tending the expresso bar gave a wink. Unabashed lesbian and Jack the Lass, that's me.

Maeve returned to her seat and crossed her legs, quietly drinking in the first sip of coffee. The latte gave her just enough of a wake up to cause the dulling of her senses to widen around her. Just for a second she felt a familiar trace of life, and just as she did she heard someone sit down in the chair beside her. This aura, nah, it can't be! Her blue eyes widened as she flicked the secret holster on her wrist and a knife was quietly in her hand. Without even really turning her head she took another sip.

"Dia dhuit mo dheirfiúr," a feminine voice greeted her in Gaelic. Red hair tied back in a long french braid as well as eyes as green as emeralds. Same frame and same build, and the same damn voice! Whatever feckin joke this is I will kill whoever is playing it on me.

"Dia's muire dhuit," she replied, "You are no sister of mine."

"Méabh Nic Uidhir! Is that any way to speak to me!" her fake sister admonished her.

"What are you doing here Average Man?" she growled as only the True Fenians would have the connections to know her Irish name.

"Ah, fine, fine - Cailleach Gloine, I am here to deliver a message," he smiled.

"It was yer feckin Provo lot that kilt me sister!" she leaned to her right to draw herself closer to the other mutant.

"Yes, and no, sides - I won't admit it even to you." The fake Sinead spoke with a flat tone and added a knowing smirk.

"Póg mo thóin! Tá tú píosa cac." Her jaw tightened, "FINE! Give me your bloody message."

The clone of her sister chortled lightly before leaning back and giving her a coy smile. "Oh, Mother Mary, this is a delightful little encounter."

"..." Maeve's eyes filled with murderous intent.

"Alright," she stated before giving the message, "Tone says 'Tick-tock lovely. Yer running out of time.'"

"That's all?" She didn't move an inch as the knife kissed the edge of her palm. One more movement and she could slash the terrorist's throat open.

"Yup," the clone smiled before a strange alien distortion started to cover the woman's body. Maeve shot out of her seat in an instant. The knife reholstered as the woman's form was replaced by that of a small child.

"Not gettin' me today government dog," chirped the pretty little blonde haired girl staring back at her. Maeve's eyes performed the cursory glance of the people around her and she sighed that now a few were watching her. The kid smiled before skipping out the door leaving her completely alone. The Irishwoman grit her teeth and inhaled her coffee in one fell chug of its contents. Luckily, it wasn't much, to begin with. What was the name of that chit Roberto met? Fuck, she had the same name as the lass from that stupid pirate song! Mouthing the words of the old Gaelic song of Gráinne O'Malley. The girl even had an 'O' name to finish it off.

"Hey," she heard Roberto speak up from the entranceway. Maeve blinked letting reality sink back in as she strolled past him snorted with impatience.

"What was the name of the redhead you helped again?" she asked, remembering the off-hand remark he gave just a few days before.

"I don't remember saying she was a redhead," Roberto replied as he munched on a few french fries, "I said she had green eyes."

"You - said - red hair AND green eyes," she stated emphasizing each word.

"Okay, Jesus, yes, that's what I said," he said before giving her a perplexed look, "Why are you so fixated on a girl with gem-like green eyes?"
That was new. She smiled. Now that fit's the modus operandi of the asset. From what she remembered from the dossier on the Emerald Soul each and every one of its hosts was redheaded and had brilliant green eyes. But only one, her sister, had been gifted with one's that shined like jewels. She smiled as the half-hour of their wait time was up and she eyed the clock suspended over the entry gate to the passenger platforms.

"Good. Next stop, Dunwich and Whateley Academy," she flashed a determined smirk to Roberto and she sped through the gate as quickly as possible. Agent Jimenez devoured the last of his food like a man possessed. A burger he should have savored was gone in four bites. He rolled his eyes as he called out to his charge.

 

---

 

Chapter 5 - Rinse Repeat

Morning, November 15th, 2007 - Dunwich

Glass Witch
Maeve sat before the mirror of her room in the Bed and Breakfast with stolid silence. Her eyes focused on the reflective surface glass as she uttered a single word in Old Irish, "Foilsiged!" She felt her mind clearing of all unwanted distractions as the surface of the mirror rippled. A slow smile came to her, as she held her hand aloft and thought about her sister. The mirror remained blank as she uttered the command again. Nothing appeared, and just as she considered wasting more essence on a failed fae scrying. Her eyes narrowed as she slammed her fist into the mattress and let out a loud curse.

"Sod it all," she tossed her pillow across the room at the mirror before digging into her suitcase. After finding all the parts to her military uniform she pulled it on. A pair of black dress fatigues with sections of kevra woven over vital areas. She finished tying her combat boots before pulling her hair back into a long black braid. The last bit was her gloves each fitted with a reliquary gem in each palm so she could store extra essence when in combat. She pulled out her classified Irish MMID before packing the rest of her luggage away. Staring at the MMID she let out a loud frustrated sigh.

"When dis is don, Aim gettin' drunk off me arse," she finished her look with a single silver necklace given to her by Sinead. Sorrow graced her mind as she said a small prayer while clutching the pentacle pendant. Now it was time for the drive to Whateley and likely the sarcastic comment from Agent Jimenez.

"So, what's with the Mission Impossible garb?" came the expected quip when she stepped out of her room.

"Dese ere me combat fatigues," she trilled before walking onward and ignored him as she strolled forward to the front desk of the Bed and Breakfast. They had arrived at the station the day before and arrived on time to check-in at their rooms at the Bed and Breakfast. She turned around to stare at the two-story house and was impressed by how such a cozy building held four large rooms ready for a night's stay. Already she was planning to book a few more nights at the place as she remembered the loving care the couple had put into their breakfast display.

"Do you only have two emotions? Pissed and grumpy?" Jimenez quipped again at her this time causing the raven-haired woman to glare daggers at him for a minute straight.

"Ye get da rental?" she asked and crossed her arms.

"Yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes as he pointed to a nondescript black sedan parked along the sidewalk just outside the B&B.

"More than a few taims they added a 'damage insurance' surcharge after I left," she uttered as she adjusted her seating.

"Really?" he asked, "Why did they overcharge ye?"

"Not ev'ryone is happy ta have a mutant stay in their hotel." Maeve scooted her luggage to the other seat and motioned for him to drive. She didn't give the DPA Agent any chance for small-talk by immediately burying her nose in a small leatherbound book. The book itself was filled with a mixture of scripts composed of Younger Futhark runes and ancient Irish ogham writings. Reading through it her head was numb from having to take a step back to think in Old Irish and to parse out meanings in Old Norse. In both cases, she was able to put together her theory after buying the book just before her sister died.

Maeve had an idea what spirit her sister hosted before her death, and since Sinead refused to tell her she was going to press the issue with the new host. For a moment as she set down the book in her lap she watched the thick woods of the Miskatonic valley zip by her. Her sixth sense caught something just as they were pulling up toward the gate of the school. A large black shape hovering in the underbrush. Is that a Black Shuck?

The shape was gone in the blink of an eye as her ethereal sight into the Veil revealed nothing there. Hmmm. Maeve closed her book just as they reached the gate.

Mid-Morning, November 15th, 2007 - Doyle Hall

Scald-Crow

A wailing cry awoke me as images of the banshee caused me to snap my eyes open. I felt a cold sweat all over my body as I let loose a curse in Irish, "Go n-ithe an cat thú, is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat!"

"Calm, mo chroí, we are in the medical hall. You were hurt by a few bullies."

Morgan's calming brogh helped me keep the demons threatening to overwhelm me at bay.

"I daren't wake you earlier. Your ears were damaged." Immediately, I remembered a high piercing sound that had forced me to my knees. Upon remembering I covered my ears instinctually. The sound had reminded me of whenever a discordant scream or whistle literally forced my brain to shut down. A few images came back to me as my eyes darted all over the hospital bed I was laying on. Memories of a taller olive-skinned woman intervening on my behalf. My eyes widened as I gasped. ENVY!

"Fina," I whispered as I pushed off the loose sheet covering my form and let loose a confusing line in Gaelic, "Cá bhfuil mé?"

"English please," remarked Sophia from a seat right by my bed. My eyes widened as she was busily working on a laptop situation in her lap. Nearby in the doorway stood a woman in full security uniform watching the hall.

"Um," I asked and pointed at the security guard.

"You were attacked and one of your cottage mates intervened for you," Sophia said, "and they called me here to come to talk to you once you woke up. I've been doing my homework for a bit since they let me skip my morning classes."

"Thanks, Soph," I gave a lopsided smile as I then asked, "Where's Envy?"

"Miss Valocco is speaking to Hartford," said the security officer whose name tag read, 'Officer Rathore.’

"Dis one walks the ways of old, my heart, I can feel the blood of Durga in her." I felt like I had waltzed into Narnia with how almost every other person I ran into at this place had the puppet strings of myth dangled about their person. Was I truly myself or was I simply being brought into a greater play of an ancient drama.

"Your spirit can stop chatting to you and please pay attention," Officer Rathore smirked.

"How did you -"

"Most Avatars have their tells, yours is your eyes drift off and you bite your lip. It's how I can tell you're concentrating on a telepathic conversation."  The woman stalked panther-like toward me and placed a hand on the end of my hospital bed

"Complex thoughts, for one who is just now seeing the board," Morgan commented. "This one is touched like you, but she is honorable. We can trust her."

"So do I have your attention now?" Officer Rathore asked.

"Yes ma’am," I replied.

"Miss...not ma’am....I'm not an old woman." The Officer chided me before saying, "I need you to give your side of the story, and then I can let you go."

A mix of confusion and dread flitted across my thoughts. I longed to be back in my room hiding away from what was becoming a far more complicated experience by the minute. First, I was bullied for bumping into some stupid bitch, and now, I was facing what can only be expulsion. Right? The girl's targeted me and Envy came to keep me from danger. Why she appeared or how was beyond me. The girl did have a far higher rating of magic skill than me or even Sophia.

I remembered the girls - three of them. Each of them from some sort of cheerleading squad, but that wasn't possible. Right?

"I remember a blonde woman, and two others and they screamed cheer-bullies," I relayed.

"Yup, those are the Whateley Martial Arts Cheerleaders," Sophia replied from the seat beside me without even batting an eye.

"Wait, the Cheerleaders aren't even official?" I asked her.

"Nope, they're a training team like the Kimbettes." Sophia finished something on her laptop and eyed the security officer carefully.

"Can we stay on topic please, ladies," Officer Rathore rubbed her temples.

"I was done with lunch and the three Cheerleaders cornered me on my way to my next class. The Blonde tried to punch me and eventually a few seconds later Miss Valocco appeared and intercepted them." The memories caused my breath to hitch, and I could feel tears filling my eyes.

"Alright, that is definitely in tune with what Miss Valocco said and what we were able to get off the security cam footage," Rathcore nodded.

"Shouldn't you write this down?" Sophia asked.

"I have an eidetic memory," Officer Rathcore replied.

"So am I free to go?" I asked eagerly.

"Yeah - sure, just try to avoid getting into trouble for at least a week." Officer Rathcore sighed.

"Thanks, miss!" I said as I got up and rushed to the bathroom to get dressed in my uniform.

"No problem," the Security Officer said before disappearing out the door leaving me alone with Sophia. The native girl let out a loud demonstrative sigh which I heard from the bathroom.

"Gráinne get out here, now!" she barked at me.

Why was everyone intent on rubbing it in my face that I was a jinx?

"Okay - geez - I'M HERE!" I sighed as I stepped out in my frumpy uniform.

"Why did you do it?" she asked me and tapped her foot.

"Nothing, I bumped into the stupid blonde's side when I was thinking and she decided to put me in my place."

"So that fucking bimbo ignored your rager tag and still attacked you?" Sophia calmed and gave me a worried look.

"Yeah...if Fina hadn't stepped in I would probably be in this room longer." I gulped. "Sophi...she was a sonokinetic...her scream hurt my ears a lot. I was crying in pain in minutes."

"Hmmm...we'll need to see if there's a way we can work around that." She clucked her tongue before noting down something on her phone.

"Why?" I asked.

"Uh you know about the combat finals right?" she asked.

"The what?" I felt my voice hike up an octave. She didn't just say combat finals? There's no way that this school had....oh god.

"You forgot that there was an X-Men angle here didn't you." She said flatly.

"Gods...they’re going to, what, make me fight in a gladiator pit?" I asked.

"Yup." She sighed.

My eyes widened as "Gods...I'm not even supergirl. I'm fucking Rogue aren't I?"

"Actually. kind of yeah. You don't even like to really touch people."

"Fuck my life."

Lunch Period, November 15th, 2007 - Crystal Hall

Scald-Crow
"Braithim rud eigin olc!" Morgan murmured in my ear as we walked alongside Sophia into Crystal Hall. A few of the kids on the ground level watched me as I entered and one laughed at how much of a "slob" I was. Fuck em! There wasn't any time to go change and I needed food! My stomach was already giving me hunger pangs.

"Ceiard?" I asked her in my mind. Morgan's ability to sniff out magical signatures and identify things was proving more useful by the day. Though the way how she phrased it to me when I asked wasn't like sniffing it out it was more like she read into them.

"Something evil is active. I've felt bits and pieces of it fleetingly. But now it's concentrated." She said as I felt her shift in my hallow eerily. Sometimes when she did it I had a serious feeling that my own body wasn't mine and I was just trapped in a sack of flesh. Humming a bit I jumped into line beside Sophia and immediately went after the stack of beef I needed for calories and protein.

"Are you going to try a salad today?" I was asked and I smiled as I eyed the lentil salad.

"Strange how I introduce you to protein and calorie-heavy veggies and you target those specifically for food."

"I'm a growing exemplar!" I teased her before asking Morgan, "Explain."

"My Domains are War, Fate, and LIfe. When things that defy what should be walk they stain the metaphysical paths of possibility." She explained, "Like how I told that idiot Brian Bóruma mac Cennétig he would be killed by a drunk Norseman!"

Wait...who?

"The so-called Emperor of Eire, fool tried to unite everyone, but didna have my or the Dagda's blessing. He defied the Stone and so I told him he would die. Was pretty great actually."

"What the hell is banshee woman telling you now?" Sophia commented, giving me a small scowl.

"Uh...how she likes telling people they are going to die." I relayed.

"That's fucked up and what I expect from the Spirit of a Faerie." She said and waved her hand at me.

"You know she's a Faerie?" I asked her incredulously.

"First, your spirit is named Morgan and you told me about the Banshee dream. That screams fae and I read enough young adult novels to know the basics of your redhead ginger mythology." Sophia finished her plate and pointed at the Underdog table for us to get a seat.

"That seems like a lot of deduction you made about me," I said carefully as she sat down beside Shipwright and was joined by her roommate, Haruko. Wait, why was the Bad Seed sitting with us?

"Okay. First, the Banshee thing plus you're Irish. Not that hard to look up what a Banshee is and also you're allergic to stuff including Iron? Seriously? That screams Faerie! And, it's weird you aren't a Sidhe like Fey either." She waved her hand in a quick roll to illustrate the thought process.

"Tagann olc! Something creeps nearby." Morgan's words hung in my skull as I let out a sigh and met Haruko's eyes. The Steel Manifestor was using a pair of steel chopsticks to eat her food.

"Why is she here?" I asked carefully.

"I'm here to watch you Gráinne-chan," she smiled, "All senpai watch their kohai."

"I'm not your bloody junior!" I let out a low rumbling growl.

"Haru-chan don't you damn dare wake up my best friends Dandere or Envy's going to get maaaad,” Sophia smirked at me as I ignored her and Haruko's weird weeb nonsense. I was not a fucking Dandere! Wait, what the hell is a Dandere? And then I realized she mentioned Envy and a bright red blush came to my cheeks.

"I knew it! Stheno and I have been betting on when she's going to admit her crush for daring Valocco-sama," Haruko twirled a chopstick between her fingers.

"What are you three talking about?" Shipwright asked us after finishing a few quick calculations on a legal pad.

"Oh, as you know I'm Gráinne's best friend and Haruko is my roomie plus Gráinne's 'mentor' in BMA." I hated that stupid Japanese woman being called my mentor! Just because she learned karate earlier than me didn't mean my exemplar skills wouldn't help me catch up faster! Still though, a flash of memory from the fight between the Cheerleaders and a punch that put down Gem. Oh my god, I was so useless during that fight and I’m supposed to be the big scary blooded rager! Some berserk I am. The self-pity was getting thick by the moment.

"You guys are weird...is that why a Bad Seed is sitting with us?" she inquired.

"Haruko's harmless." Sophia rolled her eyes before rearranging a crystal pendant hanging around her neck. "Her dad's Yakuza and her mom's just a regular mom."

"Well no," Haruko interjected, "my mom works with Seattle's Chapter of the Grand Hall of Sinister Wisdom."

"Wait what?" I watched Sophia shoot a quick glare to her roommate.

"Yeah...I'll tell you all later, she's not that scary, but she does have a reputation in Korea." Haruko then quieted as she dove headfirst into a massive bowl of ramen. The blur of her movements was a mixture of astonishing and horrific to me. It all stopped when something or someone walked into the Crystal Hall.

Have you ever had a sensation like a chill down your spine, but worse? I guess the proper term is someone walking over your grave. Well, that feeling compressed my chest as shadowy hands gripped my lungs and prevented me from taking a breath. I turned just in time to see a hulking figure walking toward the bad seed table.

"Oh fucking hell," Haruko said just as she stood up and I followed her gaze. Envy was speaking to her group of friends which included a girl with long snakes in place of regular hair. The figure which I'd seen and barely could watch was terrifying to behold. A smaller wimpy looking boy in the regular uniform walked beside them and the two seemed to be conversing about something.

“Hey, Envy isn’t it?”

I shot up immediately at hearing those words as the bastard said it loud enough for most of us nearby to hear it. Envy in her regular Italian dispassionate fashion emitted a loud exaggerated sigh. Seeing him speak to her something in me made me want to jump on the bastard and tear his skull off.

"No! Child! This is a demon's work!" Morgan's words and the hands of my best friend on my shoulder stopped me.

"Gráinne, calm down, I know you want to kill him right now, but he's most definitely stronger than you." My friend's words only kept my rage in check as I could feel the bleed of red over my vision increasing.

So there I was, waiting as this piece of shit talked to my crush. Let us not forget that this woman saved me with no reason other than she knew me. A flash of ghostly hands caressed my sides as I felt pressure along my buttocks and breasts. Finger's danced over my collar bone as I stood staid. The conversation was quickly going south and I could see the sweat building along the meat-wall’s brow. Each attempt he made to break that ice queen's mask he failed.

"Stupid idiot," Haruko growled as she pressed her hands together and I saw the formation of a dagger in her hands.

"Not you too!" Sophia barked.

"Is that Oop?" Lexi asked us as a few other Underdogs stood and watched the scene.

"Sounds like him, even terrible names as well," came a voice farther down the lunch table.

"What in the world have Rest and that idiot gotten themselves into?!" Lexi said and I could see the unease lurking in her posture.
An upperclassman whose name I couldn't place tried to intervene. The fool's screaming and posturing grew by the moment. Pretty much every single person was watching him by now. That's when I heard a strange keening sound brush my ears and something rushed past the boy. It was on the edge of my vision and it wasn't. A shadowy something walked beside the boy before darting off.

"BLACK SHUCK! DOOM COMES!" Morgan's voice came just as the poor sad bastard's body was starting to writhe in agony. Envy was a blur tackling the poor sod just as his clothes burst into flames and the smashing of glass followed the upperclassmen's call that Oop was burning out. I was transfixed on the horror show in front of me as shards of glass scattered across the floor.

"Envy!" I screamed as I felt my friends hold me back.

"Let her do this!' Haruko snapped in my ear.

I watched just in time to see Envy toss the man's flailing body and a wall of magical energy surrounded the figure. Only a second later a flash of energy broke my line of sight as I blinked. The boy was gone, all that power had eaten him alive.

"Beware what you get when you make a deal at the Crossroads." Morgan's murmur made me realize I was sobbing in fright at what I'd just witnessed.

Just After Lunch, November 15th, 2007 - Crystal Hall

Dusk-Wing
I...I didn't know burnout could make people explode. Sophia's eyes were wide with shock as she sat on the chair in the lunchroom. Her gaze was fixated on the broken window where Envy slammed the Overdog outside. A large mix of biological goo and soot was still in the now broken magical shield. Every trace of essence that bound the demonic energy spilling off the fool was twisted with taint. She'd heard from her grandfather about the "Starry Wisdom" and the works elder terrors from the deepest vacuum. Even those minute descriptions he told her in bedtime stories weren't enough to explain what her senses revealed.

The veil was torn almost in twain as shadowy forms crawled over it like carrion eaters on a corpse. A writhing mass of energy woven in the form of thick purple vines wound with tooth-shaped briars. The young shaman-in-training attempted to remember whatever it was she was seeing. The mass itself was demonic and yet it wasn't the chill disconnected death of the stars. No, this was something else. It pulsated with life and yet a false life. Much more came off it and reeked of the musk of estrus.

She was brought back to reality by the tapping of an impatient foot.

"Okay, you two," replied a member of security who was far from a sight for sore eyes, Officer Jaya Rathcore, who appeared to be equally sour to see them again.

"She's in shock, speak to me," she said while placing a hand on Gráinne's shoulder. Her best friend was indeed in shock, her eyes half-closed as she shivered. From her own short close friendship she knew the girl was strangely attuned to the emanations in the veil somehow and the sudden explosion of demonic taint was likely overwhelming her.

"We think it was Alley-Oop," she began as Rathcore was busily recording the information in a smart tablet. "That's what Gráinne's roomie, Shipwright, was able to piece together. He was here with his friend Rest, another underdog."

"Okay, we're still retrieving the security footage, but most witnesses say it was an exemplar kid. One that had more muscles than should be possible," the security guard rattled off to her.

"Yeah, it was like some great hand decided to shove extra muscle into his skin," she sighed. "I mean he looked like an overstuffed muscle sausage."

"What did he do once he came in," the officer asked.

"Well, from what we were able to hear from his tirade he was going on and on about his strength and his rights as a newly emboldened man-meat child." Sophia rubbed her temples as even remembering that little bit was driving her to new levels of disgust. It reminded her of all the jocks at home who thought just cuz she was an exemplar that she would jump in bed with them. It didn't help that Gráinne's reaction to what she saw was to shut down on the spot. Not in a full comatose state, thank gods, but she wasn't responsive.

"He was in the lunch line and started hitting on Envy," Sophia urged the conversation forward.

"We have a record of him harassing and ogling Exemplar girls," the security guard remarked.

"I'm a little surprised Envy engaged him the way she did," remarked one of the underdogs.

"I'm not," Sophia replied.

"Why?" Lexi piped up.

"I live with a Bad Seed remember," she deadpanned, "Haruko's been taking combat training for a while."

"Right, I guess, I barely know you two," Shipwright replied honestly.

"Alright - for the entire table," Sophia pointed at Gráinne, "she's my best friend from out West, and the brooding thug with the eye-patch is my roommate in Whitman."

Sophia let the Underdogs soak in her little lecture and scanned the lunchroom. The cliques of Whateley didn't make it hard to tell who the power players were and as soon as she walked into the Crystal Hall for the first time she divined most of them. The top dogs were the Alphas Council, the Academy's version of a Student Union. Training teams were just a fancy term for what they really were - the mutant version of high school cliques. For the most part Sophia sat at the Underdog table because while the Underdogs seemed to be chronically underpowered most of them were pretty chill.

Well, most of them except for the presently exploded, Alley-Oop, who had to have a fixation on Exemplar Girls. Fuck his and Rest's bullshit. Before that asshole went and made the obviously stupid deal with a devil and fried himself to death she had only been dealing with one migraine that weekend. Sophia Jameson was a small-time mutant and even if her grandfather was a shaman she herself wasn't that important compared to others on campus. That was until she decided to use the sweat lodge and learned she'd have to share the time with one Kayda Franks.

The young native girl bit her lip in frustration as she pulled apart what she knew of the Lakota girl in her head. A recent addition to Whateley just under a year ago, and one that had easily wound up connected to some of the most important people on campus. If it weren't for a criminal trial her mother wouldn't have made a stink over keeping the shamaness at arm's length.

"Stupid Underdogs, why do you always have to try to be something you aren't." The voice pulled her out of analysis and made her have to pay attention.

"Screw off Gravmax, Amy isn't here for you to pick on," a voice snapped just out of view.

"Oh great." Sophia placed a hand on Gráinne's shoulder and gripped it hard.

"I hear that hot Italian chick Envy took on the guy hitting on her," his uniform was immaculate and bled nouveau riche.

"Oh hell," Sophia let out the sarcasm and flicked a look at Nicholas Broussard, aka Gravmax.

"Nice to see you again my exotic flower," Gravmax smirked as he drew closer to the table. The idiot was attempting to show a bit of swagger in his walk and all it seemed to do was make him look constipated.

"So...first we get a Villain for a teacher earlier this year," Gravmax began, "and then I hear that a Bad Seed is beating up members of the Martial Cheerleaders, or at least that's what Yellow Queen is saying."

"What do you expect from a Bad Seed - their criminals, each and every one of them." Remarked an Underdog in slight agreement with Gravmax.

"For once one of you inferiors is actually right," Gravmax rubbed his chin before he said, "I mean Envy's mom is the Strega, a renowned slut and A-List villain. Hell, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree at all."

"Don't talk about her like that," a low voice said just after the rich bastard was done doing a little twirl with his arms up like some sort of ringmaster.

"What did you say?" he whipped back to face Sophia who was now pressing half of her face into her right hand.

"Nicholas....just walk away." The native girl tried to warn him as the once shocked redhead lifted her head to stare at the Melvillian fool.

"Don't ever -talk about- Envy like that," Gráinne said the words slowly and bared her teeth at the boy. For all his swagger Gravmax didn't blink and only smiled. He was a warper and one that had a reputation for knowing how to use it to his advantage. Sophia didn't move as her friend stood up and closed her eyes tight.

"What's the little redhead saying to me? Damn girl, you are pretty," he remarked and the fool did the one thing he shouldn't have; he reached out and traced a hand along Gráinne's face.

"Oh....Nicholas you poor dumb fucker," Sophia sighed.

What happened next occurred in a matter of seconds. Gráinne's green eyes seemed to blaze with green fire, as her entire body tensed up like a cat ready to pounce. Just as Gravmax pulled back his hand the redhead's hand lashed out and struck him squire in the solar plexus. Sophia could only watch as there was a small crunch and he was sent back two feet. She's pulling her strength? Got to be, he's not dead. The superpowered teen rose to her feet as she closed her eyes and jumped at the asshole. Her eyes widened with fixation. A loud growl erupted from Gráinne's mouth as she pulled back her hand to hit the teen again and she slowed.

"Dammit. I missed her stupid armband," Nicholas rose to his feet and jumped back as the girl swiped at him. Her focus grew more and more intense by the minute.

"NO ONE TOUCHES ME! I WILL FUCKING TEAR OUT YOU'RE THROAT!" her voice was rumbling deep in her chest as she tried to step closer. Lucky shit. He's weighing her down to stay safe. Sophia jumped back just as Gráinne whipped around to attack the upperclassman again and missed. Her downward slam of both hands hit the table and tore through the wooden frame like butter.

"Damn girl calm down," he coughed at her, still obviously recovering from the early strike.

"She's killed someone raging you idiot," Sophia called out as the Shamaness skipped out of the way of her friend’s next vector - a giant pouncing leap which almost landed squarely on Gravmax.

"You're not kidding!" he exclaimed just as Sophia said, "Gráinne calm down I'll make him say sorry."

"What hell is this bullshit," he retorted.

"I'd run, fast," Sophia chided him as the redhead slammed her foot down in frustration and the floor rumbled and creaked from the impact.

"You will die by my hand," Gráinne sang as she twirled around and her eyes darted. Gravmax was making his getaway as Sophia put herself directly in Gráinne's path.

"He's gone - sweet girl, he's gone." She stepped closer, hands held out to show she was unarmed.

"He touched me! No one touches me," Gráinne said as a tear fell down her cheek. Sophia read her friend's body language and moved to envelop her in a hug.

"I know, Gráinne, I know," Sophia herself had been groped and molested by boys in her life.

"I - can't control myself when someone gets too close," she let out a loose sob.

"And it didn't help that he was mocking your crush right?" Sophia replied.

"Yeah," the redhead blushed, "it's not fair. Little rich shit thinks he can mock me...or her. She saved me."

By now Gráinne was mumbling as the post-rage fugue settled in. Sophia scanned the room and noticed that more than a few of the other students were eying the rager in her arms wearily. Dammit. This is going to be my new normal. Sophia considered her options as she closed her eyes and let her friend sob against her chest.

 

---

 

Chapter 6 - Life's Strange

Mid-Morning, November 16th - Schuster Hall

Scald-Crow
Back at the Principal's Office or more correctly the "Headmistress'" office. Today was not a day I wanted to go speak to Professor Dumbledore and get lemon drops. No, I just wanted to curl up in a ball after class and breathe through my increasing stress of being in a completely new school environment. Nope, I had watched some fucking bastard explode himself, and then my crush almost die. Well, I think she almost died. Then to top it all off I went on a raging tear against a bloody upperclassmen. If I wasn't in the stupid administrative offices right outside waiting to see Mrs. Carson I would be punching the shit out of my pillow, but nope, they'd sent Officer Rathcore to come to get me again this time.
Sophia was by my side and still annoyed that I'd gotten her pulled out of class for a second time. The first, I'd been in Doyle and now this time I was the instigator. Nicholas Brousard just had to open up his fucking mouth about her. If the stupid Melvillian bastard left good enough alone. No, the shit had to touch me and set me off. Luckily the auxiliary security who got involved listened to my story and I hoped I was off scot-free.
Nope, not at all would, now some asshole wanted to talk to me after I got a talking to by the Headmistress.

"Calm down lass, she'll understand. You were defending yerself an' ye were already wearin' the armband. That shite should have paid attention." Morgan said to me as I shifted in the wooden framed seats. The damn things reminded me of the chairs they had at my old Doctor's Office. Each lining the wall so prettily with padded backing and seats. Oh yes, and even that weird clinically clean scent was here as well. Miss Hartford was busily typing away on an assignment as I could see the ever-present glare of the screen in her glasses. Sophia beside me was reading something on her phone and giggled after a moment.

"Who ye textin" I drawled.

"Haruko - and a new friend, Kitty," she said in passing.

I paused as I heard the name and ran through my most recent memories. "Short Kitsune girl with two-tails?"

"Yeah, she's in my cottage. Her friend Rhys is pretty cute, but freaks out a bit much." She waved her hand to emphasize her thoughts before I considered picking up my own phone.

"Be a bit strange fer a text and fanfic reading demon such as yerself ta not be touching her gizmatic." I blushed at the reminder of the night before - two hours straight reading nothing but um, porn. It wasn't my fault that in the random scanning of the internet I found a copious amount of lesbian stories. It was also not my fault if instead of doing my homework I decided to spend forever reading a bunch of them

"Gráinne, you okay?" my best friend asked me as she noticed my slow breathing and the redness of my cheeks.

"Yeah - just was thinking." I let my voice trail off.

"Oh, you reading those smut stories again?" she smirked at me.

"No...just some Xena fanfiction," I immediately bristled at her joke.

"Calm down Rose, calm down," she sighed, "You’re not the only Exemplar who has 'throbbing hormones' in her system.

"Please -don't say it- like that," I groaned, "I just can't take reading any more of my old fantasy novels. None of them have girls like me in them."

"You mean the Viking shieldmaiden raging out in teen clothes?" Sophia snerked hard.

"No - gay women," I growled.

"Welcome to the heteronormative girlfriend. It sucks just like how white kids are the default in most stories," she shrugged.

"It sucks," I growled.

"Yes, and how do you think I feel with Native Americans being portrayed by shoe polished brown-face?" she asked with a sidelong glance.

"Shitty." I rolled my eyes, "So going to stop making fun of me?"

"Nah, you need to stop being offended. Embrace your sapphic desires just like I embrace my adorance for hard muscle and dick." The words came freely from my best friend’s mouth.

"I mean I don't hate-" I was stopped as the door to the office opened.

Just After Breakfast, November 16th, 2007 - Headmistress' Office

Maeve
"You will absolutely not be taking any of my students into custody!" Mrs. Carson snapped at the Irishwoman just as Maeve completed reading out her mission to the Headmistress. She herself once again dressed in her black combat fatigues as a strange counter to the finely pressed skirt and blouse of the Headmistress. This is Miss Astarte? Maeve was focusing her baby blues on the thirty-some-year-old Exemplar woman who was now clutching the edge of her desk in annoyance. Two hours ago she'd entered and presented Mrs. Carson with a request from the Irish Government. In reply, the Headmistress had succinctly told the Irishwoman where to shove it.

Where the sun doesn't shine, of course.

"Fine." She relented and stood before feeling her own rage growing by the minute. This woman was standing in between her and the one solid link she had to find her sister's killer. If the stupid former Cape would just give up her morals maybe for a little bit Maeve could get her job done.

"I want to be able to interrogate the child," Maeve laid out on the table.

"I don't have time to let you play Bad Cop with a Rager who nearly flattened an Upperclassmen yesterday," Mrs. Carson stood up and readjusted her skirt hem.

"YOU LET MY SISTER JOIN THE FUCKING FUTURE HEROS!" Maeve's eyes were narrowed as she thundered in reply.

"Yes, I know, and she was a great hero back home. Was she not?" the Headmistress didn't bat an eye.

"It's this stupid school's fault she's dead! If she'd been in the military we'd have protected her! Or she could have just remained a civilian," she considered unleashing fire right then and there on the woman. But the knowledge that the Exemplar could utterly pulverize her kept her reactions in check.

"It was because of Whateley your sister didn't get herself killed!" Mrs. Carson spat in return, "I've had it up to here with your bullshit Maguire! I understand you are in pain, but you don't get to project that onto those around you. Either cool your fucking desire for revenge or I will personally throw you off my campus! DO YOU HEAR ME!"

The Irishwoman wrapped her arms tightly around her chest before sitting down long enough. A day, an entire day they'd made her wait here and now she was 'this close' to getting the lead and this fucking veteran sat in her way. There was no way to measure the chill of her eyes as they were set in a mix of frustration and silent agony. All she wanted was closure and every step of the way to hunting for her sister's killer she was being sent two steps back. Fingers curled like claws against her arms as she let her nails dig in.

"FIne.....speak your peace." She settled further before leveling those cold blue eyes once again.

"A lot has happened this past year which has presented ongoing pressure against the school. You are already aware that we had a student accused of murder last Spring?" Carson asked nonchalantly.

"Aye, what of it?" Maeve hissed.

"Did you know we have a great old one or at least a larval entity living on our grounds?" the veteran hero inquired.

"I know that as soon as I stepped here that something akin to Faerie magic is in play. Something tied to the Starry Wisdom and the ancient rivals of the Good Neighbors." Maeve's words were typical as her Draoi witch-sense was bleeding with nonsensical aetheric lines shifting along the veil. There was something sitting just on the edge of her sight watching her and Carson speak. Bloody Faeries!

"Last time I met a Faerie Witch was during World War 2," Mrs. Carson murmured, "a woman by the name of-"

"She called herself Blackthorn...some still think she was a probability warper." Maeve uncrossed her hands and she sighed, "We think she was an early avatar hosting the Emerald Soul."

"Is that what you Irish are calling the spirit inhabiting my student?" Carson countered.

"Aye," she brushed her lip and continued, "Yes - an' I take it, Sinead, never toldja what was in her?"

"There was never a reason to - she had a non-sentient elemental sonic spirit," Carson replied.

"Has the girl toldja who's in her hallow?" Maeve asked.

"Only that the spirit's name is Morgan, we have our theories," Carson replied guardedly.

"It's the Morrigan, the Sovereign of Hosts, She Who Rages." The Headmistress’s eyes widened only the slightest as the war mage relayed her own hypothesis.

"A Faerie has not been active on the Whateley campus for two hundred years. Why are you so sure that one of the Gentry would even be here?" more of that guarded tone. Maeve grit her lip and her lips narrowed into a thin line. This fucking bitch is hiding something plus she feels off as well.

"Let's be more specific, a Dead Star stole the names of the Faerie and thus warped their magics. Whereas the related Mother's Get just hack commonalities across the planes and adjust their will to what they desire." Maeve said.

"Thanks for the magical lesson Mave, but I do believe I have more knowledge of the Great Old Ones than you do," Mrs. Carson says, "I do have a top researcher of ARC on staff plus my own personal experience with the Strange Geometries."

"Not all of us prescribe to that tinted nonsense Lovecraft wrote. I have a copy of the Book of Kellith," Maeve replied, "And I know Faeric formulae when I see 'em."

"Why have neither me nor any of my colleagues known of this?" she asked. She knows what I'm talking about. No way ARC doesn't know about the Rules of Faerie.

"I think you do and you are obviously lyin!" the Irishwoman drawled. Her eyes widened as she leaned forward in her seat and placed her hands on the edge of the Headmistress' desk.

"Quite an accusation, Second Lieutenant, are you here to ask permission or to strong-arm you're way in?" Mrs. Carson crossed her arms and inhaled slowly. Maeve sat down promptly and leaned back into her chair.

"I need ta find who kilt Sinead an' drag them kickin' and screamin' back to the darkest hole in all of Eire,' ' Maeve said slowly, her voice holding a breaking emotional cadence.

The Headmistress of the Whateley Academy rubbed both her temples before closing her eyes. Maeve searched the woman's features biting her lower lip as her desire for vengeance cooled for the moment. Whatever thin amount of patience the Second Lieutenant possessed she was finally realizing her military credential's meant little on the Academy's campus.

"Look, Maeve, I get it. I've lost family myself and that pain never goes away," Mrs. Carson sighed demonstratively, "and you can't let that fixation for closure take over your life."

"I getcha," Maeve drawled after a moment of silence, "I'll play noice wit yer students."
"All I can ask for," Mrs. Carson nodded before standing up and opening the door to her office.

Mid-morning, November 16th, 2007 - Headmistress' Office

Scald-Crow
So there I was, standing haughty before the Headmistress. My head held high, and my eyes lit with the flame of defiance. The very poets were ready to sing from my lips as I unleashed the vox populi of my defense! The minute rush of adrenaline and likely the internal rager in me gave me one blinding instant of defiance. That all but died just as the door closed and that loud forlorn THUNK of it shutting tight caused me to lose all my bluster. It ran from my lungs like the fleeing of deer before the wolves. This was not the friendly and yet foreboding realm of Headmaster Dumbledore. Nor was there a wheelchair-bound telepath back behind the desk ready to train me for the upcoming future. No, it was another blonde, another tall Exemplar Blonde who held all my life and future in her hands.

Fuck my life.

"Miss Ni Callaghan," Mrs. Carson was the first to speak. Her words instantly captured my attention as my head snapped hard to meet her gaze. Mrs. Carson could best be described as a statuesque woman with a classic 1950s beauty as was painted on the side of a WW2 Bomber. An utter bombshell who only kept my attention on her as the one thing popping in my mind was me fangirling over Lady Astarte standing in front of me.

"Yes um...miss I mean, Lady Astarte," I stuttered before Sophia glanced at me.

"I'm not Lady Astarte here Miss Ni Callaghan, I am Mrs. Carson," she corrected me without batting an eye.

"Sorry, Headmistress, I just, I have comics and Manga including you and Crown Justice." I murmured as the woman's eyes flicked over me and toward the other person present in the room sides Sophia and myself. She hadn't introduced herself at all, but by her solid black combat fatigues I guess she was some sort of black ops soldier. I mean who the hell walks around in black combat dress on a normal day? Soldiers of COBRA or maybe even HYDRA, not normal people.

"Ah, Ogun, good to see he's still inspiring a new generation," the Headmistress smiled before placing two file folders on her desk. Each flopped with an almost resonant sound causing me to stiffen as I felt the enclosing worry of expulsion coming for me.

"Shall we cover the basics, students?" The Headmistress took a seat and indicated for us to sit in the two chairs provided before her desk. As soon as we did she adjusted a pair of glasses to her face and opened one of the files.

"Sophia Jameson, formerly Sophia Langley-Jameson. Granddaughter of Northwestern indigenous Hero RavenWing and daughter of infamous Speedster, Swiftwing. It's always good to see legacies come to our school and so far you have conducted yourself magnificently on campus for your first week." I watched as Mrs. Carson closed the file and moved to what I could only guess was mine.

"Gráinne Roisin Ni Callaghan, or simply Gráinne O'Callaghan, formerly known as Padraig O'Callaghan," she began and raised her gaze to meet mine. "You were a B-rated student at your previous High School and were nearly expelled for violence against another student."
The woman in the black fatigues shifted where she stood. I watched her from where I sat and as soon as she noticed me I jolted and went back to listening.

"If it hadn't been for Mister Jameson you would have been taken and disappeared by the MCO," she said and I slumped in my seat. Why was she going over this in front of me? Was it to make a point? I knew I was a screw-up and had anger issues. Nearly killing Esoteric and ripping apart Gravmax on the same day was not something to toot my horn about.

"Stop bein’ such a Debbie downer lass, she's tryin' ta get ye the undarstand 'ow much shat yer in." I considered arguing with my spirit, but I already noticed Sophia shaking her head.

"Sorry Headmistress, she does this, her spirit is very talkative," I heard my best friend say as I blushed bright red.

"She is not the first student to get lost in an inner monologue nor will she be the last," Mrs. Carson said with a small chuckle.

"Can we move it along please," a throaty frustrated voice spoke from the corner of the room.

"Miss Maguire, -I- will decide when it is -your- turn to speak," Mrs. Carson growled before returning to her overview.
My right leg started to shake as I planted it firmly on the ground trying to control it. Anxiety disorder did that to me, placing me in a highly over aware state and making every little twitch worse each time around. For the first time since coming to school, I began the breathing exercises taught to me by Dr. Otto. Both Mrs. Carson and Sophia were waiting for something. After breath number four I felt my heart stop pounding in my ear.

"Gráinne," Mrs. Carson addressed me gently, "many students here have had experience at the hand of the MCO or worse. You are not the first student to overreact to a simple joke or even use too much strength in a combat spar."

"Yessum," I replied, "I'm so sorry I attacked Gravmax...he touched me and all I could do was..."

"Mister Broussard has been given detention for a week for triggering a marked rager," she began and folded her fingers together, "I believe a week assisting in cleaning the campus grounds would suffice."
Mrs. Carson closed the folder and placed both folders to the side. I let out a loud demonstrative sigh as I hoped that now I was about to receive my comeuppance.

"Miss Ni Callaghan, I have assigned an extra hour of therapy and we are seeking a personal tutor to help you with your anger," she told me. Trying my best to not roll my eyes in a proper teenage manner was not easy.

"Is there anything else you need to talk to us about?" I inquired.

"A lot actually," she motioned to the woman waiting in the corner.

"She's familiar...I know har." Morgan's voice rang in my skull.

"Allo," the word came out as the woman stalked into my field of view like a stalking pantheress. The first thing I noticed about her was the midnight black hair and her cold cobalt eyes. They burned with an intensity I could only call 'vengeance'. Her body was muscular from what I could make out from years of exercise most likely The raven head's body wasn't that of exemplar, no she worked for her body. Every move bled with years of training as she came to stand beside the Headmistress' desk.

"This is Second Lieutenant Maeve Maguire of the Irish Defense Forces," Mrs. Carson said, "and I will be observing her as she asks you a few questions."

"My turn?" Maeve asked in front of me and shot a glance at Mrs. Carson who gave a clearly controlled nod before the woman began.

"What do ye wan ta know?" I asked as my accent dripped with Morgan's taint.

"See dat dere be a sign," the woman leaned toward me in my chair causing me to instinctively move back. "No bloody yank stars tahkin' laik she's fram the wes' o Eire so easily."

"Me spiri' is Irish," I said fighting the shift on my tongue, "she calls harself Morgan."

"Hmmm, ye see lass," she knelt down by me just after I gave away the name of my Spirit. "Dat dere's da rub, me sister Sinead, she called har spiri' Morgan as well."

"Shite...Sinead's lil sister...she was a hellion." Morgan commented. "I barely remember much, bu' she wen' ta military camp cuz she refused ta attend Whateley."

"Ah, aye dere tis," she drawled coldly, "dat vacant look Song Spirit use ta get. Except, Morgan didna talk ta har, just show her scenes evry now an' den."

"Yer - yer sister was Song Spirit? THE SONG SPIRIT!" I gushed for a moment.

"Dat's the one," she said with a smile dripping with calculation. "She was murdered. Har heart crushed jus' a few weeks ago."
I wasn't sure how to respond to Maeve's statement at all. A loss of words stole my tongue as I tried to fight my silenced voice. What do I do now? I shifted where I sat and my leg started to shake even more. My eyes closed hard and I tried to breathe through the stress building in my chest. It increased with each beat of my heart as I could hear the rush of blood in my ears. I was not going to give in to the rage. This woman was the sister of a host of my spirit, just like me we were kin in a way, I guess.

"She may be kin lass, bu' by kith'n'kin I dun hafta ta laik har," Morgan's burr was far more throaty now. A feral growl rumbled in the background as she said each syllable. The Raven of the Centre had come and was ready to meet Maeve.

"Morgan remembers bits an' pieces from Sinead's death," I began as images immediately came to mind without a single command. A cavalcade of motion and imagery attacked my sight. First, a dark room smelling of disinfectant and the slow beeping of medical equipment. My body was covered in a thin paper made gown. I could even feel the cool air outside my regulation blankets. What was this, what was I seeing?! I exhaled loudly as I opened my eyes and let my view fall upon the wall.

That's when I noticed the strange shadow lacking a person and or thing in the room. It was very faint, just at the point where my view of what lay behind the right of the desk disappeared. Every single hair on the back of my neck went rigid as fear crawled down my spine. The shadow seemed to walk along the desk before disappearing from view.

"The emotion...is drawing them."

"Wha do ye remembar lass?" the Irishwoman asked me.

"Uh," I once again unsure what to say, "A hospital room. I'm alone - it's night."

I closed my eyes in time to feel the scenery of the room fall away like a wave crashing over the rocks. It passes through me and instantly I'm back in the hospital. I'm frozen in time though as cold constriction like freezing water surrounds my limbs. Even my breathing becomes labored. Immediately, I scan the room painfully slow battling my frozen neck muscles all the way. Just as I'm about to finish my scan I hear it, a silent malignant voice.

"Tick-tock." I shiver as the feminine voice spits out the words dripping with malevolent joy. Each and every sound coated in corruptive malice as much as the deadly twisted magicks used to bring her there. Morgan shifts in my skin giving me that utterly terrifying dissociative feeling I get. How to put it? When my spirit moves in my hallow it feels like every two-inch layer of my meat sack is covering something else - something alien. I shook as the disconnection continued while I tried to glean any details I could. The words, "Tick-tock" repeated as Morgan drew upon the fragments of memory she had left.

"Tick-tock, rider's run out the clock." The words drew my attention to movement just outside of my field of vision, or so I thought. Again, I fought the freezing of my muscles as the air around me felt viscous and fluid-like. Fighting it used up so much of my energy I finally saw it or at least part of it. A humanoid form standing in the reflection of the mirror, just at the foot of the bed.

"Ah, a new rider, tick-tock, little girl." How could the voice know I was there?! Narrowing my eyes I tried to make out what was in the window. A body wearing a victorian era dress was barely visible in the nighttime glare of the window. Distinctive white petticoats held up the dark grey and black dress. The body moved, and as I noticed the lack of a head I gasped out loud.

"DULLAHAN!" I tried to pull away from the image as the body came to face me and started to get closer. It stepped perfectly like any person would and leaned against the foot of my bed.

"Tick-tock little girl. I WILL FIND YOU!" the words came as a shattering shriek to my ears. Outside of my dream I grasped my ears and tried to push back at the sound.

"Gráinne, come back!" I heard Mrs. Carson's voice like I was underwater. It was garbled and I could only make out the barest hint of what she meant.

"Stupid, foolish, little girls make pretty little graves," the headless woman drew closer, "And must have coin ta pay the ferryman's toll!"

She was now kneeling on the bed and as she did something strange happened. The horrific image of the headless woman shifted and flashed as one might see in a movie. I could describe it as two images blitzed against each other and all of a sudden I saw her, the black-haired girl from the mirror. Whatever was left of the headless victorian wench was replaced by a short almost bulimically thin woman. Her hair fell down across her face in stringy dirty locks. Her eyes were hidden by a dark greasy unwashed hoodie.

But goddess I could still see the flicker of her contempt from within the shadow covering her upper face. The woman's lips were chapped and cracked from misuse. Her teeth were stained with coffee and cigarette smoke. It was utterly atrocious to me and even as I felt myself shrinking away from her she drew closer. The woman's lips formed into a tight purse line as her jaw seethed as she tried to control herself.
"YE CANNA "AV HAR!" came a roaring growl in the depths of my mind.

"I will rider, I will! Yer time is up Child of the White Oak, I hav' yer name an' hars. I will come for ye, an' ye will pay the toll to the Banshee's wail!" The words were harsh, and I could feel the hatred bleeding from every word. I tried to back up against the headboard of the bed. There was nowhere for me to go. I screamed in fright as the girl crawled closed and suddenly a knife was in one of her hands. A cruel-looking thing with a triangular blade that seemed to shimmer like quicksilver.

"Not yet, Dullahan," I heard the words outside my dream and felt as if my body was being jerked back hard. It was similar to the feeling I got just after a roller-coaster finished its course and the breaks were suddenly engaged. That hard pull against my body yanked me out of my dream and back into the waking world. I was surrounded by Sophia on my right, Mrs. Carson appeared worried at her desk, and on my left was Maeve Maguire. My body was covered in cold sweat and I could feel fear like chilled water in my veins. My skin felt wrong, all of my body felt wrong.

"Tick-tock lil girl. I'm comin fer ye!" the voice whispered at the edge of my ears. Only Maeve seemed to react to it as her face hardened into a frustrated scowl.

"Dammit..." the Irishwoman muttered under her breath.

"I believe it is time for lunch," Mrs Carson said, "Sophia, Gráinne, you are both free to leave for lunch."

A slow pain now was all I could muster. Sophia helped me out of my chair and I barely found my footing on shaky feet. Everything felt wrong-sick. It was like someone stomped on my grave with waffle-soled boots. Entire bits of my body were a patchwork of numbness or light burning pain. I needed rest, and just one nod from Sophia told me she was going to escort me to the lunch line so I could hopefully recover a little from my ordeal.

Lunch Period, November 16th, 2007 - Crystal Hall

Maeve
"Miss Maguire," Mrs. Carson called from the desk, "A word."

So close and now, she had to pay the piper. Maeve felt every single muscle in her body go rigid. Tension fell over her as she about-faced to meet the raging glare of Lady Astarte. Maeve's eyes widened at the glare, and it took all of her strength right there and then not to smirk. I went beyond what she wanted me to. So this is what Sinead meant by not pissing off the Headmistress. She was battle-hardened, blooded on Provisional Republican soldiers and dark witches from across Europe. The ring upon her finger began to send small chills across her hand. A warning, something was watching them.

"Aye?" was all she said sardonically.

"If you want to remain on my campus you will not overstep, again," the Headmistress delivered each word with sharp precision.

"Aye," she replied, dropping to a full attention stance.

"Good, we will speak to her again tomorrow," Mrs. Carson stated.

"Aye, m'am." Maeve retained her rigid posture for a few moments before getting the small nod letting her know she could leave.

"And Second Lieutenant," she froze as Mrs. Carson said with all the strength of Lady Astarte. "We'll find the murderer, just trust me."

"Aye," she croaked as she left the room and entered the primary office. I was supposed to be on my own, no one else, at all!. Now, I have to dance to her tune. Or I'll never learn why Sinead was killed. Her mind lingered on that thought for just a bit longer. The Dullahan wanted the rider, but why the Emerald Soul. She couldn't fathom the direct answer as she tried to remember all on the dossier. Four or so hosts dating back to the first, Moira.

"Where can I fin' a bi' o' food round here?" she asked the Assistant Headmistress.

"There's a large offering of food in either the student lunch hall, or the faculty lounge," the woman replied. Maeve scanned the other blonde carefully and finally let the name sink in, 'Miss Hartford.'

"Tank ye, Assistant Headmistress," she smiled as the cold rage burned in both. The muscles used to create a knowing smirk flinched into place long enough before she turned on her right heel. Long direct strides saw her zip past a row of students who all froze upon seeing the black-clad woman. Her fatigues of course would easily draw the attention of anyone she walked past. Then there was the six-foot-tall woman covered in distinct cobalt tattoos all across her pale skin. Maeve stopped and glanced as the woman met her gaze.

"Irish Black Ops?" the woman asked.

"Aye," she replied and crossed her arms.

"Huh, nice to see one of you crazy bitches here," the woman replied nonchalantly. Cold fiery blue met quicksilver and a single note of respect passed between them.

"Good ta be 'ere," Maeve smirked before watching the woman walk past her.

Hmmm, so that's the Artificer, note to self - give wide berth. One thing she hadn't recognized right away was the pulse of essence seemingly emanating from the girl. She closed her eyes and opened her right as she uttered the words, "Sight of Odin". The entire mess hall was covered in latent aetheric echoes. Imprints from where the dark magic had stained the veil between that of the mirror.

"No matter how much ye try, ye canna scrub away all the stains," her teacher had taught her. A smile curled her lips as she dodged around another student eagerly running to meet his friends at a nearby table. The woman stopped in the flood of people giving time to scan the entire Crystal Hall. Each level appeared to be taken by different ranks of students. Her mind began to catalog the glimpses of aetheric patterns and assess possible threats. The whisper of several avatars seen as light auras across where they once were was noted. However, not a bit of faerie presence, no foundlings, good.

She closed her right eye as the spell ended and felt the exchange of essence required to fuel it. A small chill entered her right eye as she was stopped, or more prudently, she stopped. Her regular witch sense felt a strong aetheric signature just in time for her to almost collide with a student. This one in particular drew the woman's attention as a head of red vulpine hair entered her vision. What was far more interesting was the two fox ears atop the student’s head.

"Excuse me," she said in apology.

"No, no, it's okay I don't mind being run over by a woman in uniform," the fox girl replied.  She tilted her head as she examined me.

"Out of state, I assume?" the girl asked.

"Ou' o' nation mar like," she murmured as she realized just how close those vulpine ears were. They were just nearly under her chin to the point of them being close to flush. Without a sign of blush, she skipped back and eyed the redhead for a moment. Short, really short, maybe just under a meter and a quarter. Just as she moved back she got a shot of the girl's rather bountiful valley of cleavage, and she closed her eyes.

Bloody feckin' exemplar women. The Irish woman noted the redhead regarding her and she seemed to ask, "So, You are?"

"Nunya business," she snarked as she noted the large serving of corn beef not far away. A bit of the salty beef would settle her nerves along with the bit of the pure lingering in a flask hidden on her person. Now just to get around the girl and she would be free for a lil-

"Oh, mature, I get it," the girl retorted.

"I do not duel words wit' children," Maeve's blue eyes narrowed as she considered casting the Sight of Odin, something was off by this girl.

"I am not exactly a child," the redhead replied with an arched brow. The girl crossed her arms underneath her breasts doing nothing to hide that valley of plenty.

"No, ye eren't," she said. Maeve considered right there to scan the girl to find out the source of her GSD. There was something off about her, but a glance along the veil showed no faerie essence. Just the skittering of small spirits lingering near staining in the veil.

"So who are you G.I. Jane?" The question came with a minor insult.

"Military lesbian, ye?" Maeve shrugged. She held her ground as she continued to regard the lass.

"Sexuality," the girl gave a wry smile, "isn't exactly part of the label.

"Wha ye wan wit the G.I. Jane references. Tad old fer ye isn't it?" the Irishwoman inquired. This appeared to annoy the girl.

"Physical age has little to do with maturity," she quipped, "or education, or other experiences."

"Nah," she shrugged and curled her lip, "I seem ta hav' struck a nerve. Whatcha hidin' short stack?"

"Nunya - business," fox-ears said with a grin as she winked.

"Good response dere lass," Maeve stepped around her and gave one last glance before adding, "Is mise Méabh Nic Uidhir."

The girl inclined her head in return and the smile did not leave her lips. "Catherine Fox. It's been a pleasure making your acquaintance Miss."
The Irishwoman turned at hearing the name Fox, a name popping up from her memory about a woman from a long time ago. A certain woman by the name of Jennifer Fox.

"So yer the younges' o' da Lady Briar's batch eh?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

The girl, Catherine, inhaled softly before pressing her lips together before giving a nod, "Yes...last year was...trying."

"If ye wan ta ever tahk bout it. Iam on campus fer a few days - just ask ta see Glass Witch." She said before turning around and making a beeline for the food.