
######

######

###### Silver Knight

###### By

###### Caron Rider

### This story is dedicated to my brother Lance, without whom I would never have written it, with thanks and all my love!

Summary: When seventeen-year-old Diana recognizes an elderly priest in a video on YouTube, she realizes that reincarnation is real and that she's been alive before! Every night in her dreams, she relives her past learning that it's kill or be killed. Now a bishop at the Vatican whom she saved in another life calls on her once more. She is needed to help defeat evil within the catacombs of Rome. But when she arrives in Rome, she meets Alexander – the man of her dreams! Through the centuries she has loved him...betrayed him...been killed by him. Will she give him another chance or this time will she strike first?

Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 2nd Edition by Caron Rider

Copyright © 2011 by Caron Rider

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 9781310552656

Smashwords Edition, License Notes: Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support. Mark Coker.
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Something for Everyone

by

Caron Rider

This volume is a short collection of eclectic poems and limericks for the young at heart. Inspiration was a wild wind that blew the author hither and yon to write about love, cats, parents, pirates, magic, and much, much more (often with tongue in cheek).

Sign up for the author's New Releases mailing list and get a free copy of Something for Everyone.

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Don't miss the other two books in

The Silver Series

By Caron Rider

Silver Demon

Silver Dreamer

Coming 2016:

Apophis

Is it the end of the world or a new beginning?

The asteroid, Apophis, hurtles toward Earth at an astonishing 56,000 mph. When it strikes, it will rain destruction and chaos down on our world. Two groups are created to save mankind, our culture, and our technology.

One group goes into stasis while the other heads to Mars. Centuries later, those in stasis wake to find the Martians have invaded!

###### CONTENTS

Preface

Dreams

School's Out

The Fortune Teller

The Light House

Jarret

Helen

Rome

The Reporter

Pompeii

Path to Humanity

The Catacombs

Alexander the Great

David

Solomon

Flight Home

Epilogue

Silver Demon Excerpt

## Preface

"Thus the heavens and the earth were finished..."

Genesis 2:1

It was dark...and then there was light. How long ago? How can you measure time when time didn't exist? So, it was dark. And then, there was light. It was small to begin with—a mere pinprick in the vastness. But from that bare spark light flowed and grew...almost as if the dark itself changed—becoming the light. For where the light welled up, darkness vanished. Consumed. The spread of the light continued until at last an uneasy truce existed between the two.

We fear the dark. There are things in the dark. We can't see them but we know they are there. And those things want us. They want to conquer the Light...extinguish it so that their restlessness and, yes, pain, can go away. Go back to that time so long ago now before that first loathsome pinprick flared into existence. How had it happened? It had to be stopped.

The Dark started to fight back against the creatures that could be seen in the Light. They had form, substance. The Dark discovered that its shadowy minions could consume the spark of light that seemed to be held within those living in the Light. And as they consumed, they grew more substantial, stronger, and able to withstand the Light...and the Light grew dimmer.

## 1 Dreams

In the milky duskiness of the early morning light filtering in through tall, narrow windows in the outer wall, I paused holding very still. I held my breath, listening, waiting. Nothing. As its loathsome smell wafted through the hall, it crept somewhere close but I could hear nothing. Where was it? I took another step forward, cautious with my heart throbbing in fear.

In a hall of an ancient castle, my side hugging the cold stone wall, I continued forward. My breath blew out in a cloud of mist, while an icy draft occasionally moved tapestries hanging along the walls. At the very edge of my consciousness, I knew I dreamed. I had gone to my bed in happy anticipation of a good night's sleep, for I had not had a nightmare in over two weeks—a rare occurrence. Maybe I had finally outgrown them...maybe not.

But now, frozen by cold and dread, my shaking hands were empty when I looked down at them, and I began to panic. I didn't have a weapon! What if it found me? How would I defend myself? What if...hold it! Focus. Breathe. I stood in a castle—there had to be something.

The ceiling arced above me supported by strong, wooden beams black with age. The faint scent of English roses rising from wooden bowls full of fading flower petals failed to mask the stench of the thing. A fox, trapped at the base of a tree, surrounded by horses and hunting dogs, stared out at me in equal terror from a lovely if disturbing oil painting. There at the very end of the hall, standing in a slightly darker shadow, I saw the outline of a thick man holding a long stave with a metal tip that barely gleamed. A suit of armor! I sighed gratefully.

As I took a step forward, there came a crash from behind me down the hall. I whirled around to see a ball of blackness roll from a doorway that hid a servant's staircase. It slammed against the opposite wall with a wet squelch and uncurled to glare at me through yellow-slitted eyes. It took a split second to notice that it stood about a foot high and had a slick, slimy head with no discernible ears. Below a long snout filled with many, many sharp teeth gleaming in the faint light, it grinned evilly at me.

One step backward, then I turned, trying to run flat out. But there were only stockings on my feet below my thin, muslin nightgown, which gave me no traction on the smooth stone floor. Only a few steps further, then the creature—the demon, my mind whispered—plowed into my back sending me to the floor screaming.

I awoke from the nightmare sitting straight up in bed gasping, the shriek echoing from the walls. Then I fell back against the warm pillows, still feeling the claws digging into my back and the teeth latching onto my shoulder. I gave it an experimental shrug. Yep, still worked. I heaved a sigh and rolled out of bed wanting to wash the sweat off in a hot shower before getting ready for school.

My last days as a junior! Breathing in the fresh morning air, I walked across the William Tindall High School campus toward its main two-story building that housed the majority of students. Woohoo! Second to the last day of school. Students milled around in an upper parking lot next to the gym with its attached auditorium and band rooms, reluctant to head to class before the tardy bell sounded. The final large building in the complex housed just the freshman—the annex. The probability that older students would send the little freshmen screaming (or corrupt them) led to their very own separate academy.

Later that morning as I weaved between my fellow students heading down the hall to my English 11 class, Mr. Jakes stopped me. He was our assistant principal in charge of discipline and was rather short and round, wearing small, square, wire rimmed glasses. You wouldn't think that he'd be tough just by looking at him, but I'd seen him get in this guy's face once, and I never wanted to be in that position. He did not yell, quite, but using seriously stern, loud ranting, he became extremely intimidating. I'd never seen anything like it.

"Diana, just to let you know, you'll be in charge of the book club next year. Over the summer, you'll need to put a list together of books so that the club members can vote on what to read."

Mr. Jakes sponsored our school book club, Authors Abound, and our president had just graduated. We only had six current members, which included Sam, Maggie, Manning, Vera, Amy, and me. So I'd kind of thought that I'd be up for president this year, since I had seniority now. I'd joined the club as a freshman, and the others had come on board the following year. So here we were, seniors at last! Or at least we would officially be seniors in two days. Happiness swelled my heart because I loved the club that we'd nicknamed AA. Our motto: Friends don't let friends not read.

"Sure, Mr. Jakes, some of us have already talked about maybe the Lord of the Rings series. Plus we've already got some new members lined up for next year. We're supposed to meet in the library later today to make sure we all have cells and emails."

"That sounds fine but just be sure to let everyone give some input."

"Okay." I was glad that my fiasco with his son, Tommy, hadn't caused any trouble between us. Tommy was a close friend of Sam's as they'd both been on the football team together. Since Sam was dating my best friend Maggie, we'd all ended up hanging out as a group pretty often, going to movies, the mall, that kind of thing.

So when Tommy suggested that he would give me a ride to the Junior-Senior Prom last month, I didn't think anything of it. I mean, I'd bought my own ticket, so I just thought, friends, you know? Tommy thought differently. It was super awkward. Fortunately for me, he'd been a senior this year and, upon graduation last week, had joined the marines like his father before him. He would leave for boot camp at the end of June. Semper fi!

When I finally got to English, Maggie was already there talking with Allie Newton. Maggie wasn't beautiful, in fact, she was kind of ordinary looking...at least until she looked at you. Then when you met her green eyes flecked with gold that filled her face, you forgot she was ordinary—because she was anything but. We'd known each other forever—well, since kindergarten. We'd become fast friends when we'd spied a caterpillar climbing the chain of a swing on the playground at the same time. We'd agreed to remove it carefully, and take it to a tree at the edge of the field.

"It's on YouTube. Just search demon priest," Allie said, brushing her black hair from her shoulder so that it hung straight, half-way down her back. She had an unusual fashion sense for a teen in that she liked dresses. Not your normal, skin tight, short, totally hot looking dresses but dresses that were long and flowing, covered with little flowers and lace collars around the neck. Because she felt like she towered over everyone (she didn't), she always wore flats.

"What's on YouTube now?" I wondered aloud sliding into my desk, wearing my typical jeans and combat boots, my light brown hair curling wildly around my face. My friends hated my hair, but it was pure jealousy. My hair almost always looked the same, even after swimming. While their hair was matted and knotted with chlorine, I just had to give my head a shake, run my fingers through it and my hair curled up, drying perfectly, even after being windblown from the open car windows. They moaned, attempted to use a brush, and usually ended by pulling on hats, and I would sit there with a Cheshire smile.

"There's a video by a priest that's gone viral. He asks for warriors because he needs help with demons," explained Allie. Demons, fabulous. A shiver crawled down my spine as dream teeth tightened on my shoulder.

"There have been all kinds of groups sprouting up across the country claiming to be his 'warriors' apparently," Maggie added, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Not to mention the Demon Lovers website for Devilish Dating. Millie sent me a link as a joke," Allie laughed.

"Well, there's all kinds of nuts out there, I guess," I said, wishing the topic would change. Fortunately, Mr. Mason came in and walked to the front of the room to begin class.

"Now remember everyone, your paper is due tomorrow. No exceptions!" Our assignment had been to write a final term paper on one of Shakespeare's plays, our choice. I had chosen to do mine on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, traditional star-crossed lovers seen in fictional literature as compared to historical fact. It appealed to me because tragedy could have been averted with just a little trust and communication. Maggie had taken on Hamlet. They were both pretty decent papers but just needed a little more tweaking before tomorrow.

When the end of the day rolled around, I headed to the library for the AA meeting. I pulled open the door, closed my eyes, and inhaled through my nose, loving the odor of paper and leather bindings flavored with some vanilla potpourri Ms. Poe, the school librarian, would put out. All the current members, plus a couple of new students, stood near the podium at the far end of the long rectangular room.

The library was wonderful—probably the coolest library in the state with its twelve-foot high ceiling and walls filled with books. At the opposite end of the room from the podium, students could find ten cubbies that had computers set up for research. Spaced out evenly in the middle of the room, three rows of double-sided shelving full of books that we simply called 'the stacks.' In the corner by one of the doors sat a dilapidated but cozy sectional sofa that someone had donated, perfect for when you wanted to sit down and read a chapter or a magazine.

"Hey, guys, why don't we arrange the chairs?" I started dragging some chairs into the open space near the podium to create a circle and the others pitched in. We had a ritual that we simply had to perform for all newbies. So when everyone was present and sitting down, I began.

"Hey, everybody, my name's Diana."

"Hi Diana!" All of the current members shouted back at me with a grin, and the new wannabe members laughed in surprise.

"It's been two weeks since I last read a book."

"That's okay, Diana, we know how busy the end of the school year is. It's all about baby steps." Sam was always good on the uptake.

"We've come together to put book titles down on a reading list for next year, plus welcome new members to the club. So without further ado, let's just start on my right and go around the circle so you can introduce yourself." There were only two interested kids this time. In the fall when the freshmen came in, we'd probably pick up a couple more.

The first guy just kind of leaned forward in his chair, waved his hand, and said, "I'm Rob." He was a junior, and I'd seen him around. I thought he might be interested in Vera, which might explain his sudden interest in the club, but we'd take what we could get. After all, we got Sam because of his interest in Maggie, and he'd turned out okay.

"Hi Rob!" We all responded.

"Umm, it's been, like, a few months since I last read a book." Though obviously self-conscious, he appeared willing ...just the kind of member we needed.

"That's okay, Rob, in this club, we'll get you reading again," Maggie volunteered. "Friends don't let friends read alone!"

She paused before adding, "I'm Maggie and, sorry, but I read all the time," she said, grinning in appreciation at our "Hi Maggie!" response.

"I'm Sam. I only read when she makes me!" He pointed to Maggie with a grin, and she stuck the tip of her tongue out at him, as the rest of us gave a "Hi Sam!"

The next and last newcomer fiddled shyly with a thick strand of blonde hair hanging down her shoulder. Her current status as freshman would change in just two days to sophomore. "Hi, my name's Gabby," she paused expectantly, and we didn't let her down.

"Hi, Gabby!"

"It's been three days since my last reading." Okay, she'll fit in just fine, I thought.

"I'm Vera. I read a lot but really love being able to discuss it with the gang here."

"Hi,Vera!"

"I'm Manning. I'm a sci-fi freak."

Sam gave him a high five slap as we exclaimed, "Hi, Manning!"

"And last but not least, I'm Amy," she said smiling around at all of us.

After the final "Hi, Amy!" I said, "Good, that's great. Welcome all. Now let's get down to it. It's been proposed that we read the Lord of the Rings series. Any thoughts?"

"Well, how much time are we going to spend on each book?" Manning asked.

"If we include The Hobbit then we could spend a quarter on each book," Sam suggested. Sam, Maggie and I had spent all weekend over spring break watching the movies one after the other. He truly wanted to read the series now.

"I don't know. That might be too much Tolkien for me," Vera said. "What about the one about Percy Jackson?"

"Okay, let's throw some titles out there so that we can decide books before we think about the time frame," I suggested. "I want to read that Dean Koontz book Intensity."

"I want to read Twilight," Amy said. I added Twilight to Percy Jackson, Intensity, The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings on the list.

"Lee Child has a new book out called The Affair," Rob volunteered. I guess we all looked blank because he added, "He writes books about an ex-army MP investigator who goes around the country and ends up helping people in trouble. You know, gangster types might be leaning on a store owner who's a single mother. So this guy, Reacher, will blast them. My dad likes his books, so I've read a couple, and they're cool." So I added it to the list.

"I heard that Terry Brooks has a new book out in his Shannara series. They're kind of like the Tolkien books in that there is usually a quest involved but not quite so wordy. I can't think of the name of it right off hand," Maggie said. So Terry Brooks' book went on the list. I'd look it up later.

"Okay, any other suggestions?" I asked. Everyone looked around and just kind of shook their heads. "Great, then we have a fair list to choose from. Before we leave, make sure I have your email address and cell number. This summer I will ask everyone to vote on what our first book will be. So check each one out and see which one you want to read. I will be the only one to know who votes for what, so don't worry that anyone will pick on you for your choice. And have a great summer!" I ended with a smile.

* * * *

The next morning I awoke in another cold sweat sitting in my bed, but this time with the taste of ash in my mouth. Most people don't think about dying very much or the many ways in which you can die. I think about it frequently—dream about it, in fact, virtually every night. As a child, my parents didn't understand why I had such nightmares. Or how I could even know about the different ways in which people could die or be killed. After all, I started having the dreams when I was ten, not exactly the age at which to know about being burned at the stake.

I had what many would describe as an idyllic childhood up until then. My dad worked as a geologist for Shell, and my mom had opened her own dental office. They'd started dating in high school. Running to get to the covered walkway because rain poured down, my dad had knocked my mom into a massive puddle.

You wouldn't have thought that would lead to romance, but who can explain the older generation? She said he'd bent down to help her up, and when they'd looked into each other's eyes, they knew they were meant to be together. They'd gotten married while still in college and moved to our current neighborhood when they'd graduated. We lived in a good-sized two-story brick affair, in a quiet well-manicured neighborhood where the Home Owners Association had a hissy fit if you forgot to mow your lawn or trim your hedges.

I attended Tindall High in Springfield, which always met its Average Yearly Progress requirements, and made decent grades most of the time, chemistry being the only subject I seriously struggled with. Pretty normal, right? But every night dreams of being hung, stabbed, choked, poisoned, tortured...it seemed never ending...reeled through my head.

Becoming a serious insomniac and developing a terrifying fear of the dark, my folks finally took me to see a doctor when I turned 12. But here it was five years later, and still no one seemed to understand why I dreamed such terrible images, least of all me. Vivid imagination they said. Imagination, ha! I actually felt like those horrific deeds happened to me.

The doc put me on drugs, of course, and that did help some—for a while. Some nights no dreams came at all. But with the drugs came a feeling of being trapped, trapped in an abyss of darkness that nearly overwhelmed me, and I would wake choking, struggling for breath.

Why is it that our species fears the dark? It is an innate fear that even when logic tells us that nothing is there, we listen, hushed of breath, trying to quiet our heartbeat and we know...we know that something is there! In those dreams, I crawled through mazes of darkness with unspeakable things chasing me, and the creeping fear became worse than any death I had suffered in my earlier dreams.

I didn't want to see people get killed, and more importantly—to me anyway—I didn't want to be killed. I felt that I knew them all...those dream people, feeling sorrow at their passing, sometimes finding tears on my cheeks upon waking. But edging through darkness, feeling rough, cold walls under my hands and along my back, never knowing what was lurking in the shadows or when something would attack, was the worst. I refused medication after that.

The dream this night had begun in darkness when I first heard the woman crying.

* * * *

1595 CE

Slowly a green field took shape around me. The sky looked a perfect crystal blue of spring with just a few puffy white clouds above. Seemingly a lovely innocent day breathed a cool, light wind across my skin. In the distance was an exceptionally large castle, and I thought it remarkably picturesque in the rolling green countryside.

Then I heard the woman weeping, "Alexander, please. Please not this. I did not send for him! I would never betray you!" I realized suddenly that I was the one begging.

Looking up, I saw that iron manacles surrounded my wrists and a chain led from them up through a ring at the top of a tall pole. My arms stretched over my head with my back pressed to the pole, pulling me up enough so that my bare toes just brushed a rough wooden platform. As I looked around in a panic, I saw straw and sticks piled on the platform, and under it, I knew another mound of wood and straw must sit ready to burn.

Before the platform on the ground, a tall, dark haired man stood watching grimly as workmen placed the bodies of two slaughtered pigs among the wood. That was something of a mercy since the pig fat would make the fire burn hotter and, therefore, I hoped faster.

His black brows were pulled into a ferocious scowl across his straight nose. He didn't look particularly old, mid-twenties maybe, his skin appeared tanned from being outdoors constantly, and he had just a shadow of a beard on his square jaw. He wore a slashed leather jerkin and a black sword belt over a red doublet with black hose. It looked like he had come straight out of Elizabeth I's court, and I wondered for a second if my love of Shakespeare had finally made me demented.

The thought of burning—probably one of the most painful ways in which to die—caused me to feel a terrible, aching fear. "Please...just kill me! Use your sword—please not this!"

"You should have thought of what would happen before you betrayed me, Diana." His voice was harsh as if he too were in pain.

"But I didn't bring him here. I didn't tell anyone. I swear to you." The truth rang behind the words. I truly had not committed the crime for which he was sentencing me to death. Oddly, I did not even blame him for what he was about to do—simply wished he wouldn't.

A monk had traveled into the province asking the peasants about haunted areas. He had told old Martha that he would get rid of any evil spirits that had been killing innocent people. She had told him about a cave in the hills where people had been found dead through the years, drained of blood with deep slashes across their torsos. No one would go near the place alone though sometimes children would challenge each other to enter it.

She told him that it had been several years since anyone had been killed, but if he looked for evil, he could find it there. I imagined that I could hear her toothless cackle in my head as she would have relished telling the stories of the cave. What she did not know was that I had taken care of the "spirit" years ago and that the people did not need to fear the cave any longer. I couldn't exactly tell her though. She would have thought I was a witch if I told her that I'd gone and killed the spirit living in the cave.

It was just after I had been to the cave, years ago now, that I had met Alexander. I was in the village with my mother visiting her childhood friend Jane. Alexander was riding his big, black monster of a horse, Nightmare, when he saw us and stopped to speak with Jane, smiling down at me. He made such a magnificent picture on that horse, sitting so tall and straight with his dark hair ruffling in the wind that I stared at him in wonder. When we were introduced, I remember that he found my name intriguing.

It was not long after our meeting that he and my father had arranged our marriage. I considered myself lucky and went willingly into the marriage. He was healthy, young, and wealthy. Not to mention handsome—much better than old man Tellus who liked to pinch me while drooling down his chin. But...I didn't know. I didn't know that he was part of the Dark. I didn't know that he recognized that I was of the Light.

The cave incident and our meeting were several years in the past as I dangled with my back against the pole. We had been happy together, I thought. He had given me freedoms that women were not usually allowed...education, for instance, I could read and write. That was part of the problem. He thought I had written to the monk—sent for him. Sent for the monk to come kill him.

It had been terrible luck that Alexander had been close to the cave when the monk approached it. Again, it was unfortunate that the monk recognized Alexander as being a demon. Alexander said that the monk had shouted 'I have come for you, foul beast' and charged him. He took that to mean the monk had come specifically for him, and the only way that would have been possible, in Alexander's mind, was if I had written to the monk.

"They call you Alexander the Black because they think you have a black heart. But I know you. I know how you struggle against evil. You don't have to do this. You will find out too late!" I gave the sobbing shout as a man approached carrying a burning torch. He looked to Alexander and Alexander nodded.

He tossed the brand into the wood stacked beneath me and the crackle of fire began. The wood caught immediately and flames burst upward, smoke curling up from my feet like that of a silver stuck demon. And then I could think of nothing but the pain as the flames licked their way up and around me.

Hearing screaming, some part of me was surprised when I realized it was me, my voice roughened with smoke and strain. I do not know how long I burned before he finally took pity, but the last thing I saw was Alexander the Black Hearted taking aim at me with a cross bow to grant me mercy at last.

## 2 School's Out

Though it was rare for me to dream about the same people again, I'd dreamed of Alexander the Black before. He was virtually the only one, though occasionally a few others cropped up, but his pervasive presence often seemed to haunt me. The first dream of him that I had, I never heard his name—just saw him and felt that he saw me as well. Filled with a yearning sadness, the dream itself had a dreamlike quality.

He'd sat within a substantial chair with its arms and legs ornately carved, facing a massive stone fireplace, his elbow upon a polished black walnut table and his head in his hand. I realized now that he wore the same clothes from when he had me burned. He'd looked up as if there had been a sound that I couldn't hear. His face was full of anguish, such sorrow as few witness. It made me ache to see it, desperately wanting to wash away his pain.

I approached stretching out my hand to touch his face, but my voice was silent and my hand was nothing but a mist. He tried to speak and reached out to me, but I was being pulled away from him, drawn upward and everything faded.

I guess that was his grief after having me burned at the stake. I didn't want to feel sympathy for him anymore, but I could still see his face and the sadness in his eyes.

I went to take a shower and brush the ash taste out of my mouth. The clock glowed at five a.m. Still a little early to start the last day of the school year, so I took my time, letting the water beat warmth into me, then went to make pancakes.

My mom and dad currently cruised up and down the Alaskan coast, taking a month long trip for their Silver Wedding Anniversary. They'd wanted it to be special, considering they'd been married for twenty-five years. My mom actually cried when she found out that my dad had gotten tickets for the cruise. She had always wanted to go, so he surprised her, taking her to dinner and sliding a silver envelope with the tickets under her plate. At the removal of her plate, she saw the envelope and looked questioningly at my dad. With a shaking hand she had opened it, sitting speechless for a whole minute!

While they cruised, they wanted me to go stay with my dad's sister, my Aunt Murial, but because of some weather days, school had not yet let out. Thank God. I loved my Aunt Murial, but being a chain smoker, she and her entire house stank of nicotine. My lungs felt like they'd explode whenever I spent too much time with her. Thankfully, I was "forced" to stay home alone. So no one fussed and told me that if I just tried not to dream everything would be okay. My parents were baffled by me. To be honest, I was too.

Besides, my friends Maggie and Sam would be staying over a good portion of the time. I mean, there would be no folks, so we could watch movies, eat popcorn and listen to music all night long. Not that I could stay up all night. When it got late, if I just so much as sat down, I seemed to fall asleep! But either way, with Sam and Maggie around being totally alone the entire time wouldn't be an issue.

As my two closest friends, I usually shared my dreams with Maggie and Sam. It was always hard to tell them about Alexander not only because he seemed private somehow—like I wanted to keep him to myself—but also because of the embarrassment, not to mention frustration, of never seeming to get the upper hand with him. You would think since they were my dreams that I'd eventually win one.

So it would be difficult to tell them that he'd killed me, yet again. Most of my dreams were of shadowy, dark creatures—demons—killing people, sucking the blood and souls from their victims. Trying to kill them, I mostly seemed to be the one to die. Horribly.

Even though they were just dreams, they spurred me to take self-defense classes, martial arts, gymnastics...you name it, I took it. I'm not great at any one thing, but kind of well rounded, knowing some respectable moves to protect myself. As Tommy had found out at prom! To get him to release the lip lock he'd placed on me, I'd hooked my foot around the backside of his knee and shoved at his shoulders. He'd gone down pretty quick, pin wheeling his arms wildly and landing on his butt. Of course, my go to move was running. I'm fairly decent at it, so hopefully I could escape any trouble that presented itself.

Since Sam and Maggie were due to arrive on my doorstep to pick me up for school, I made extra pancakes for them, or at least Sam. Promptly at six-thirty, the doorbell rang and I scooted down the hall in my socks to answer it.

"Hey guys, breakfast is ready!" I flourished my arm inward with a grin.

"Hey, did you finish the paper?" As Maggie and I had English together, we had helped each other with our final term papers. Not cheating, just discussing.

"Yep, finished it last night. How 'bout you?"

"I just need a little polish on the whole comma thing."

I smiled, "Sure, no prob."

"While you two yak can you move so I can reach the pancakes?" Sam had curly brown hair, freckles and a dimple. Really cute for a bottomless pit. Maggie had dark red hair and matching freckles. I tell them all the time that the freckles brought them together. He moved inside to plop down on one of the chrome and black plastic stools under the breakfast bar.

"Have you seen the priest video yet? It has gone absolutely viral like Allie said." I shook my head at Maggie as we moved to sit at the iron, glass-topped kitchen table behind Sam. She never eats hence her model thin bod, so she brought out her laptop from her backpack and opened it. Not sure exactly what to expect, certainly nothing extraordinary, but when she logged in and started the video, I felt stunned.

An older man who appeared well into his 70's with snowy white hair and a sizable gut wrapped in priest's robes, stood in front of an altar in a large, ornate church. Behind him hung an enormous, sad Jesus on a cross. I had never met him before in my life...except in my dreams.

Definitely the same man, though no longer young as in my dream, his round face didn't appear wrinkled. It looked like he'd had a few collagen injections, which had left it with a shiny, stretched glow. In the video, he said, "Warriors for the Light, the demons must be destroyed! The spreading of the Dark has to be stopped. The Light is with you and you shall prevail! Come to me."

"Pretty freaky, huh?" She leaned back and added, "Clubs have sprung up all over the place calling themselves the Light Warriors. I think they're equating it with Star Wars and the force. There was an article talking about it called 'May the Light be with You.'"

But Maggie knew from the dreams I had shared with her that sometimes I would tell someone that I was a Warrior for the Light.

"What's even freakier is that I think his name is Paul Soratino." Dead silence met my words as they looked at me with wide eyes. Sam even quit eating.

* * * *

1968 CE

I was walking down a city street. It could almost be any downtown city in the United States. It was a warm summer night with Pink Floyd music floating through the air from an open door to a bar. Traffic sounds of slamming taxi doors and squealing engines intermingled with the music creating a sonic haze along the street. The women who passed by were wearing big, thick, false eyelashes, mini skirts and go-go boots. I was wearing bright pink hot pants with a psychedelic top. A designer named Mary Quant had created hot pants several years earlier. She'd risen to fame during London's swinging scene of the mid-1960s, and they'd become very popular in the U.S.

My purse had a long strap so that it hung from one shoulder, across my body and rested on the opposite hip, the fringe along the bottom swinging as I moved. My right hand rested on it as I strolled down the street. I had the feeling I must be on the west coast...San Francisco, I would say. Laughter and voices surrounded me on all sides of the walkway.

And then I smelled it. Demon stink! I had been killing demons since I'd turned twenty-one, basically for a solid decade. Fortunately I had dreamed of demons for most of my life. Otherwise, that first time at twenty-one would also have been my last time. I had come to this city because I couldn't NOT come to this city. A compulsion like I'd never felt before would not let me rest.

Raised in Portland, Oregon, I had never really wanted to go anywhere else—had rarely left, in fact. I loved the Northwest with its abundant forests, crisp mountain air, and easy access to the Pacific. The early European settlers to the area could not decide if they should be under the wings of Great Britain or those of the United States, eventually choosing their own way for a time.

So the Oregon state motto suited me: She flies with her own wings. Judge Jessie Quinn Thornton had written the phrase, and in 1854, it had been translated into Latin for the territorial seal. Oh, to be able to soar above the earth, leaving behind your cares and troubles, however briefly, just for that one moment to be totally and utterly free from all obligation.

As I passed the mouth of an alleyway, I realized the demon was close. Then heard a man's voice ask sharply, "What are you doing?" followed by a gurgling sound.

Without thinking I rushed into the alley while pulling from my little beaded purse a tiny .22 caliber Beretta Model 21 Bobcat chambered with silver bullets. It was nothing that San Francisco Police Detective "Dirty" Harry Callahan would carry that's for sure. In fact, I could imagine him in my mind in that very instant. There would be a pause in the action of the film when Clint Eastwood would pull out his .44 magnum and look over at me. He'd glance at my palm-sized pocket gun and look back at my face in disbelief. Then he'd make that trademark, exasperated sneer and turn back to blowing away the bad guys.

Well, Dirty Harry aside, my gun was perfect for this job. I couldn't take the chance that the silver would pass through the demon, as the bullet had to stay within the demon's body for the silver to work. I had made that mistake before by using a Derringer with a larger grain bullet that ended up passing entirely through and out of the demon. For me, dying hadn't been pleasant that time.

It was intensely dark in the alley, and I couldn't see well so actually passed the demon and his prey. That was my downfall. The demon slashed me from behind, and razor sharp claws ripped my back open to the bone. The impact spun me around scattering drops of blood. Falling backwards to the asphalt, the gun came up, and I fired into its face. Landing, I smacked the back of my head against the ground with pain radiating from the impact, blood pooling beneath me. Then the demon started to shake as black ichor oozed from the wound and smoke spiraled upward from its feet until at last it burst into a cloud and was gone. A silver bullet fell to the pavement with a ting, ting, ting and rolled up against my foot.

The man, the victim, crawled over to me. He was wounded but not mortally. "Are you all right? Who are you?" he demanded. "I'm Paul Soratino. You saved my life!"

"Diana, Warrior for the Light," I said slightly smiling my body at last numb. "The demon is gone. You should be okay now." Whispering, I felt my life drain away, my blood flowing out, dripping through a sewer grate and into the dark.

* * * *

The Present

"Well..." Sam didn't seem to know what to say as I finished the story.

"You'd never told us that one before."

"I just remembered it when I saw him."

"You're thinking that really happened now, aren't you?" Maggie reached across the table to touch my arm in sympathy.

"I don't know. It's always felt so real. Do you think his name really is Paul Soratino?" I asked uncertainly.

"There's one way to find out." Maggie Googled Paul Soratino on her laptop. And there he was. He had a Facebook page that listed him as a bishop at the Vatican, with a contact phone number placed below. We all looked up at each other from the computer screen.

"Dial it, babe," Sam said.

"Sam..." Maggie said hesitantly, "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why not? This is freakin' wild!" He thumped his fists on the table in his excitement, but I just felt sick to my stomach.

"Because if he answers and knows who she is, it means..." she looked at me.

"It means my dreams must be real," I stated flatly, "and he must want a demon killed." I could taste ash in the back of my throat again, thinking of all the times I had died in my dreams. Sam's mouth formed a small O.

"Okay," I said with decision after we sat in silence for a minute. Really there was only one way to be sure. "Hand me my cell, Maggie." She slid it across the table to me, and I dialed the international number listed on the webpage.

"Hello?" a gravelly voice answered.

"Hello. May I speak to Paul Soratino?"

"Speaking."

"My name's Diana." My heart fluttered, and I wondered, Should I ask if he almost died in an alley? He must have been stunned because silence echoed through the line. "I saw your video on the Internet."

"How did you realize it was me?" astonishment colored his tone.

"I recognized you from when you were younger. We met in an alleyway. Do you remember me?" I could feel his amazement through the airwaves.

"The Diana I met is dead."

"Yes, but then according to your faith we never truly die, do we? Did you ever tell anyone what happened in the alley?"

"No."

"So do you still have the silver bullet?" I heard him muttering and had a sense that he must be crossing himself.

"Yes," he whispered. "And I think you will need more than just the one because there is an infestation of demons in the catacombs."

* * * *

Sam and Maggie tried to talk me out of going to Rome as I packed. I knew it was crazy. I didn't actually know how to kill demons. But from the moment of seeing that video, I felt compelled. I had to go.

"You're going to get killed." Thanks for the vote of confidence, I thought.

"I realize that's a possibility, Mags. My dreams have told me that I die...frequently. Still, I have to go," I said and finished stuffing my toiletries into my backpack.

On the way to school in Sam's small blue and white Chevy S-10 truck, he said, "So this means that you've really been alive before. I mean, really alive." It sounded like he was having a hard time wrapping his head around it. Truly I was too. "So we're talkin' reincarnated."

"I always thought part of reincarnation was to better yourself?" Maggie asked wrinkling her brow.

"I really have no idea, guys. Maybe Ms. Poe can help us look something up." But when we got to the school library she just directed us to a section on Hinduism.

"Listen to this," Maggie said after we'd gathered a few books and sat at a table. "It basically says here that according to the Hindu text the Bhagavad Gita, our bodies are like our clothing. When we die, we are simply changing clothes in that our soul is reborn into a new body."

"This one says that your current life is just the most recent of many lives that you've lived," Sam put in.

"Well, check this out," I added. "Here's something that says the soul can be reborn even as an animal. There are many tales of how you can be punished by being reborn as a lower form, while if you're good, you are rewarded by being born in a higher caste."

"You do have some catlike qualities," Sam grinned, and Maggie whacked him on his shoulder.

"Hmmm, well, I don't remember anything other than being a girl, anything other than being me actually. I mean, I'm always called Diana in my dreams."

"So does this mean that you're Hindu?" Sam wanted to know. I wanted to laugh but...

"Well, it certainly seems that they have at least some beliefs that correlate with my being reborn over and over again."

"I wonder why you remember. It says here that people don't remember their past lives because of the trauma they may have suffered," Maggie said. We all looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing.

"Obviously trauma isn't a preventative for me!" I was thinking of all the painful death scenes witnessed in my dreams.

"I bet it's so that you're forewarned! You know, so you can see them coming!" Sam exclaimed. Hmm, that felt right somehow.

"Well, then it definitely means I have to go to Rome. It's kind of like my karma. You know...my destiny." I gestured at the books, but I must admit, it was a little depressing—and scary.

"You can't. I'd just die if you died!" Maggie exclaimed in an undertone looking around to be sure no one was near.

"You never know, Mags, she might survive. Do you remember in any of your dreams where you lived to a ripe old age?"

"None that I can think of off the top of my head," I said. Should I tell them? I wondered. Why not? "But worse was a dream where I passed by a demon and let it live uncontested. Already wounded and tired in my dream..." I could remember the feel of the razor sharp claws sliding into my side as I spoke.

"I was in Queenstown, Ireland, at the time and had finished one off—just barely—and felt a desire to go to the Americas. So booking passage on a ship, I pictured being able to rest while sailing to the United States. The night before setting sail, I passed the trail of a demon. The stench was incredible. But being so very tired, I knew that I would probably die—would most likely die and not be successful. At least that's what I told myself. So I didn't make the attempt and boarded the ship the next morning. It was a huge ship, the biggest of its time and heralded as unsinkable."

Sam blinked. "The Titanic?"

I smiled nodding. "Yep, in the dream I remember boarding the ship. The next thing I'm kind of floating above it being drawn upward. The ship's below me, and it's definitely sinking, so I must have died in the North Atlantic. And now, do you suppose, if I had not boarded the ship, would it have struck the iceberg? Am I responsible for those people?" I sighed. "Or was it that I would have succeeded with the demon but not made the ship and then lived?"

They both looked a little sick and worried. My face was probably the same. "Look, I don't think I'm strong enough to do this on my own. I'll be honest here, I'm scared," I paused to take a breath.

"This is the last day of school. Come with me to Italy. My folks are gone. You can tell your parents that you're staying with me—to keep me company. So we all have time right now. We all have our passports from the vacation we took down in the Bahamas last summer with the folks, so paperwork's no problem for any of us."

When Sam and Maggie started dating, we'd had a Christmas party where we'd invited parents as well as friends (a good thing since I didn't have many close friends). Amazingly, all our parents hit it off and even started hanging out, going bowling and playing cards when they had the chance. So last year we'd decided to cruise down to the Bahamas as a group. We'd only needed to take our birth certificates, but the idea of having a passport had really struck a chord with the three of us, and it didn't seem to bother the folks.

"You don't have to do anything but sightsee and give me moral support." They looked at each other hesitating but with a burgeoning excitement as well. "And maybe some ideas on killing demons," I added with a smile.

When we got back to my house after our last day of school, Maggie started searching airline tickets on Travelocity while I finished stuffing my backpack. It was official. We were seniors! And we had decided on the spur of the moment to travel to Rome to hunt demons. My mother says the portion of the brain that's responsible for making complex judgments isn't fully developed in teenagers. It doesn't finish until people are in their 20s, which explains why teens sometimes use poor judgment and don't have good impulse control. I suppose we were being impulsive, but it was something I felt I had to do.

"Okay, my folks think I'm going to stay with Tommy since he's leaving at the end of June," Sam announced as he entered the kitchen putting his cell into his pocket.

"I told mine that I was going to stay with Diana. I just have to go home and get my things," Maggie told him. "When do you want to come back, Di?"

"I'm not sure. I probably only have enough money in my savings to buy the tickets and maybe four or five days in a hotel. At least we only have to get one room. Be sure that we go through New York," I told her as she put in the dates. "In fact, see if you can get me there tonight and then have the connecting flight leave tomorrow. You and Sam can just meet me on the connecting flight to Rome from New York."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. I just want to check something out." I was slowly remembering another dream about New York City that I hoped might be useful. I wasn't sure what I would find there, if anything, but for some reason I felt almost a compulsion to stop in New York first.

## 3 The Fortune Teller

The Delta flight Maggie got me on landed at seven on that early summer evening at the JFK International Airport. I didn't have any real baggage to speak of, just my backpack. I was concerned that I might need to hit the road quickly, or possibly die, so wanted to travel light.

I caught a taxi right outside the doors to the airport terminal. It was beaten up with scratches, dings and rust all over it. I hoped that didn't mean the cabbie was a horrible driver. The driver standing next to it opened the door and asked in a thick Indian accent, "Where you like to go?"

"Third Street, please," I said sliding in. He got in behind the wheel and flipped a lever to start the meter.

"Any particular address?" he asked.

"No, I'll know it when I see it...I hope." He smiled as he looked at me in the rear view mirror.

"Are you from India?" I asked him as we pulled out.

"Yes."

"Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?" I sat clutching my backpack on my lap.

"What would you like to know?" He asked as we pulled out into traffic.

"Are you Hindu?"

"Yes," he answered with a smile. I knew from our research back at school that Hindus made up about thirteen percent of the world's population and that most lived in India. So there was a pretty decent chance that someone from there was indeed also a Hindu.

"My class is studying reincarnation, and I wondered if you would explain it to me."

"Ah, well it is the idea that a soul must reach perfection to unite with the Divine. It is a process by which the soul assumes many forms through many births and deaths. A person's past deeds determines whether a soul initially goes to heaven or descends into hell when the body dies..."

"Wait, I thought the soul was reborn. How could it go to heaven or hell?"

"You are thinking of the Christian final resting place. For us, once the soul has been rewarded or punished sufficiently, it is again reborn. This process continues until the soul becomes perfect. It takes many lives to attain perfection because you do not know if you lived your life right before, so you must try to live right each time."

"But if you've lived right, then you might go to heaven for a short time?"

"Yes, just as, if you haven't, then you could go to hell for a time." As we were barely creeping along, hell might be interpreted as being stuck in New York traffic.

"And what exactly is the Divine?"

"It is the Creator. Creation. We strive to achieve perfection so that we can be reunited with the Creator and bathe in the Light of Creation."

"The Light of Creation?" The thought left me longing for something intangible...something just out of reach.

"Yes, that is what we strive for."

The Light and the Dark. Was it just coincidence that the Hindu belief paralleled so closely to my being born again and again? Is it that at some point, I failed, and the Creator tagged me for battle as a punishment? Was it a punishment? Or was it rather a gift? Had I been given an extraordinary insight like few others into the very fabric of existence? Had it been a warrior who started Hinduism?

There were so many questions milling in my mind, but very few answers appeared by the time we arrived on Third Street. We were at the very beginning of the street, right by Prospect Park, when I asked him to pull over and let me out, preferring to walk. After paying the fare, he wished me luck and drove off.

I finally stood in front of a row house in Brooklyn—a brownstone. It had been new back in the 1930s and for the twenty-first century it didn't look bad. In fact, it was in excellent shape. It was obviously one of those that had been renovated with the times and been well kept. In one of my previous lives, I had bought the house as a place of refuge and for renewal.

* * * *

1936 CE

I had not been sleeping well for six or seven months—having such nightmares that I'd wake up screaming. Never able to remember the dream clearly upon waking, I would be perspiring and shivering at the same time. Mother was quite worried and, as usual, she shared her concern for me with her friend Dorothy. Dot recommended her personal spiritualist Madam Rosa. Dot had not been feeling well, and nothing any doctor did made her feel better—until she'd met Madam Rosa.

Madam Rosa said that it was negative energy making Dot feel ill. She must remove that energy in order to get well. This would naturally take many sessions, but Dot had apparently been feeling better after each visit. I admit to being a skeptic at first, but then I walked into Madam Rosa's small, dimly lit shop.

Opening the door, a little bell jingle jangled announcing my arrival. Shelves with jars and canisters filled with powders, salts, and lotions, along with books, lined the walls from the floor all the way to the ten-foot high ceiling. Immediately to the right was a long glass display counter containing all manner of jewelry, rings, bracelets, amulets and trinkets—I saw the sunlight briefly sparkle off the contents until the door closed. On top of the counter sat the register. It was a narrow store not having room for any other shelving.

As I hesitated, Madam Rosa entered from a curtained doorway located towards the back and just behind the counter. She was much younger than I expected, looking to be at most thirty with a smooth olive complexion. She was wearing a dark red turban and a long, flowing maroon gown having sleeves that were elongated with the top end at her wrist and the rest tapering down to the floor in a point. She embodied what I imagined any Romanian gypsy would be, right down to her large, hoop earrings and rings on every finger, even her thumbs, of both hands.

She stopped, looked me up and down and then said with a thick Romanian accent, "Ah, yes, Miss Diana. I 'ave been expecting you." Now how was that possible? Dot just gave me her address that very afternoon.

"Oh, did Dorothy have a chance to telephone you?" I asked, but she smiled slightly and shook her head.

"Come," she said gesturing towards the curtain, "you must sit and ve vill discuss vhat is bothering you." Hmm, if she was a charlatan, she certainly put on a good show.

Behind the curtain, the room was extremely dark and smelled of a burning cinnamon incense. The walls were totally black and seemed to fade completely from view. In the center of the room, a round table was draped with black velvet. Sitting on it was the only source of light, a crystal ball, dimly glowing. Five leather parson chairs were positioned around the table with one larger, stuffed chair across from the entrance. She sat there and motioned for me to sit opposite her near the doorway.

As soon as I sat, a little fearful someone might grab my foot from under the table, she closed her eyes and placed both hands on the crystal ball, rubbing it slightly. At her touch, it flared brighter and then pulsated as she moved her palms.

"You 'ave been very troubled lately." I imagine she always started with that line.

"Yes."

"You are not sleeping vell." That was certainly a no-brainer. If you're troubled, you don't sleep well.

"You think you vill find answers on Third Street, but that is not for you during this life." What? I had not told anyone about my desire to go to Third Street...had not even been there yet.

"What do you mean by 'this life' exactly?" I asked, focusing on the last bit.

"You 'ave a very old soul," she looked over the crystal ball at me smiling mysteriously. "You 'ave been born, lived, and died many, many times."

Before I could really take that in, she added, "It is from those other times that you are experiencing disturbance. You vere not meant to remember during this life, but your suffering from those lives is bleeding through to your consciousness."

All right. "Supposing I believe that, what do you recommend?"

"You are searching for a man with dark hair and dark eyes. You must stop."

"How can you possibly know that?" Absolutely no one knew about the nameless man that I occasionally saw in my dreams.

"Madam Rosa sees all," she rubbed the crystal ball and caused it to flicker faster. I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead as she added, "Even vhat you think hidden. This life vas meant for you to rest from the struggle. You must not try to find him."

"Will I ever find him?" I wondered aloud slightly wistful.

"Yes, you vill meet again. Your destiny is tied to his as surely as the earth is tied to the sun."

"Do you know when?"

"Absolutes are difficult. The future is like many intricate spider vebs all interconnected. You decide to take one strand, and you vill get stuck at one destination. But if you take another, then you end at different destination. He too must make choices as to vhich direction to go. Vhen and vhere you vill connect, that is tricky. I see him vith you once again vhen you are younger than you are now. So it von't be this life or the next, perhaps the one after. Besides, you do not have much time left in this life."

"What?!"

"I am sorry child to give you such news, but rest easy, you vill be born again. That is a certainty."

"What do you think is going to happen to me?" My heart had accelerated in my chest frantically. I was more upset than I should be. I tried to remember I didn't truly believe this; I just came to satisfy Mother. Madam Rosa must be—is—a charlatan.

"It vill be an accident. You vill not be able to prevent your fate even if you cowered vithin your bedroom." How could she possibly know that I'd been thinking of just hiding in my room? I do not believe any of this!

"Do you give all your visitors such bad news?"

"I only give vhat news there is. If you vant to enjoy the time you 'ave left, you must stop looking for the man. Your dreams vill stop vhen you do. You vill be able to rest then."

"All right. Well, thank you for your time Madam Rosa," I stood up to leave, placing several small bills on my side of the table before turning to the curtain.

That visit motivated me to start learning all I could about mind reading, fortune telling, and reincarnation. How had she known about him? So did I stop thinking about him? How? He was nameless and often shadowy in my dreams. And really, I didn't want to stop, longing for those few times when the dream fog would clear, and I would see him again, most often on a black horse, sitting there smiling at me. Perhaps I would find him on Third Street....

"Daddy, I would like to buy a house," I announced one morning several months later at the breakfast table. I had set aside my new book ExtraSensory Perception by J.B. Rhine and was sitting with my elbows on the table, my fingers interlaced with my chin resting on my knuckles staring at my father. He was reading and was never keen on putting down the paper.

In the mornings, as Mother always ate off a tray in her room, it was a family tradition that we read at the breakfast table. Daddy didn't want to hear childish prattle early in the day. So I learned early about the financial world and the hard-hit economy. Trying to find other things to focus on, I had discovered psychics thanks to Madam Rosa. That was one reason I enjoyed such fare about ESP. Why Duke University had even created a lab in 1930 to study such abilities and parapsychology! I found it all fascinating.

"Humpf, what have you got in mind, my dear?" Daddy was a gruff, old teddy bear of a man with reddish-blonde hair and a big thick mustache. He would bluster and fuss sometimes, but like any storm, he'd blow himself out if you just waited long enough.

Property was a good investment, and he'd had me investing money in the stock market since 1922 when I'd turned 10. I'd loved to drink Coca-Cola, so he'd let me buy a few shares. I knew that he really wouldn't have a problem with me buying a house. And really, why did I want a house? I couldn't give any reasonable answer. I didn't want to move away from my parents. I wasn't getting married or even planning on it. Of course, Mother really wanted me to marry. She kept introducing me to nice young men, one after another. But I just wasn't interested, instead picturing black hair and dark brooding eyes, with none of the men who came to our house, or attended the same parties, meeting that description.

"Well, there's a very attractive brownstone for sale on Third Street. It's in the Park Slope neighborhood in Brooklyn." For some reason, the street had been on my mind one morning, and I couldn't get it out of my head. So after a few weeks, and the visit to Madam Rosa, I'd had Tellus, our chauffeur, drive me up and down it in our tan 1934 Lincoln Dietrich Convertible.

The tree-lined lane contained houses which had little postage stamp sized gardens with riotous flowers bobbing their heads in the breeze out front. It had been a perfect spring day with the sunlight streaming through the new leaves. Filled with brownstones and several really immaculate older mansions, it was a lovely little neighborhood. The street ended right at Prospect Park, which also contained a relatively new zoo. The Prospect Park Zoo had opened on July 3, 1935—just the year before. I must have one of these houses, I'd thought.

"Do you and your Mother have news for me?" he asked, putting down the New York Times to give me his full attention. I knew he would think something was up. Fortunately for me, he wasn't as enthusiastic about the idea of me getting married.

"No, Daddy, I just thought it would be a good investment." I presented my most innocent expression, widening my blue eyes and smiling prettily. He had a soft heart, besides it was my money when all was said and done. He knew I was looking for his opinion, not his permission.

"I think you are right that it would make a good investment, and if you've already found one to buy, then I would say to get on the horn to Crowley and close the deal." Mr. Crowley was Daddy's lawyer and by default mine as well.

"Will do, Daddy dear." There were no snags during the purchase, and before I knew it, I was the proud owner of a house located in Park Slope. And that's when things got tricky. I had taken my readings to heart and wanted to have the house available to me in any of my future reincarnated lives. So, how to set that one up?

With Mr. Crowley's help, it was decided that a foundation would own the house. Mr. Crowley actually thought of the organization's name: Foundation for Light. Everyone connected to my parents had heard of my nightmares and paralyzing fear of the dark, and he wanted it to be something positive sounding. The law firm would oversee the finances through the years in perpetuity with the instructions that anyone named Diana that turned up unsolicited was to have access to the house and money, after meeting certain criteria that is.

The foundation would be funded by a trust that would receive money from investments in the stock market. One of the staples of the fund would be Coca-Cola—still my favorite drink. It had been created in the late 1800s by John Pemberton and achieved commercial success with Asa Griggs Candler. So far in the 1930s, it had always made a profit, in large part because the company did not need many employees to create the cola syrup. Another stock chosen was Parker Brothers. Again, as a child, my father had let me buy stock shares based upon what I liked. They are the ones that had published my favorite card game of Rook. In 1935, Parker Brothers had also released a new game that was incredibly popular called Monopoly.

Next, Mr. Crowley helped me hire a caretaker, George Trelawyn. George was in his forties and had been a butler in England for some high muckity muck. But he had fallen in love with an American who happened to be Mr. Crowley's niece, Alice. So George and Alice moved into the house on Third Street to maintain it for me.

Even though I tried my best to ignore Madam Rosa's prediction, I had to admit I did try to make the most of my time. Her idea of making the most of it and mine just ended up being different. Stop seeing my mystery man in my dreams? Nonsense! I had never tried to dream about him. I did, however, think about him and imagine meeting him on Third Street some day. To prepare, I prepared the house. With George and Alice, I very carefully chose paint, wallpaper and furnishings as if it were the house that I'd live in for the rest of my life—which, in fact, it was. I just didn't have an unusually long life to live this time around apparently.

I had only been in the house a couple of months when May 6th rolled around. That was the day the Hindenburg was due to arrive in New York from Germany on its first transatlantic flight for 1937. The giant zeppelin offered quite a luxurious flight for its 1,300 passengers that included such amenities as a cocktail lounge, a library, and a sitting room that even contained a grand piano. My father's business associate, Mr. Alberto Rossi, was arriving on it with his family. With so much unrest in Europe due to Hitler's aggression, they were relocating to the United States at my father's urging. Daddy had us all on hand to welcome them to America when the airship burst into flames above us...

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## 4 The Light House

The Present

I think this was the second time I had been to Third Street since buying the house. In answer to my knock, a man in his early 70's, tall and still straight, wearing a black suit, opened the door. He had a pleasant expression on a kindly face, a face that was older but still recognizable.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Jarvis? It's Diana." I told him with a grin. I knew he wouldn't recognize me. My hair was different, my eyes, my build, everything.

"Diana! How wonderful." His eyes took in my biker boots buckled around the calves with jeans tucked in and backpack slung over one shoulder. I looked nothing like the stylish, sophisticated young woman who had hired him just over 50 years earlier.

I'd dreamed about the Light House and gone to see if it was still standing. It was, but George Trelawyn had passed away just a month earlier from a heart attack, and Jarvis had been an accidental, if perfect, find to replace him.

* * * *

1959 CE

He'd been in the bar of my hotel idly playing the piano on the second evening of my arrival in New York when I first saw him. A woman asked him to play Bobby Darin's tune Mack the Knife, which was number one on the charts. The problem—he'd refused to play it again as she'd already requested it four times. The bartender got so angry over his refusal to play the request that he fired the piano man on the spot. I watched the scene, admiring the young man's calm demeanor as he left, and then headed to the dining room for an evening meal.

After dinner, I went out to the Playhouse Theater on Broadway where Gypsy was playing starring Ethel Merman. It was a musical comedy tale about a vaudeville entertainer who turned stripper, which had just begun that year. It sounded delightful and was thoroughly entertaining. So I was relaxed, not expecting to cross the trail of a demon at all when leaving the theater.

Everyone took the subway in New York at some point, and that was my night to take it. It was down in the subway station that I smelled it—that choking, clogging stench was unmistakable. It seemed strongest right by the Men's Room door.

I didn't feel comfortable just barging in, so I kind of hung around waiting for a few minutes. Sure enough, a man eventually approached to enter. And who should it be? It was the piano player from the hotel bar. He looked at me, and I could tell he recognized me but couldn't quite be sure from where. When he opened the door, I'm sure he thought I was a nut as I tried to see around him into the room. But the door swung shut before I could get a really good look. The smell, however, confirmed that a demon was in there.

So, should I go on in? I wondered, putting my hand on the gun in my purse. I dithered for a good, solid minute before opening the door. The room opened up a bit behind the door, and there the demon was, clutching at the man! I fired directly into the demon's back hoping that no one heard the report of the pistol and knowing that the bullet would not have enough velocity to travel through it and harm the man. The man's eyes had rolled back into his head, and when the demon burst into a cloud of smoke, the man dropped to the floor nearly unconscious, his limbs loose and floppy, ending with his legs splayed out. I went over to kneel by him, patting his face gently. He did not look like he was bleeding anywhere, and I surmised that he was probably just bruised. He slowly opened his eyes to stare blankly at me.

"Hey, buddy, we have to get out of here. Come on now," I said tugging at his arm trying to get him to sit up and then stand. "Let's go."

"What was that thing? Where did it go?" he asked, looking around wildly.

"Don't worry. It's gone now," pat, pat, pat on the shoulder. "Now, let's go before another one comes along." That got him on his feet in a hurry. I kept my hand on his arm while we walked slowly on the subway station platform.

"Is there a bar close by that we could go sit in and talk? I think you need a drink." I didn't want to leave him alone after he'd just been attacked. He seemed like he might be in shock.

"Sure, I just came from a place," he said and made a stumbling way up the stairs with my help. We exited the subway station into the night air to be greeted by the incredibly noisy New York atmosphere. The traffic sounds, horns, tires screeching, the yelling of the drivers, music and sirens. The cacophony was unbelievable, but to a little country girl from the state of Oregon to see and hear the city that never sleeps was remarkable—at least for a visit.

Fortunately, the bar was quite close to the subway station entrance. It was set up with cozy tables under dim ambient lighting, and at the far end, a piano could be seen through the smoky haze.

"Did you get a job here?" I asked him. When he looked at me quizzically, I added, "I saw you get fired earlier today at the hotel."

"Oh," he said, understanding finally lighting his eyes at my familiarity. "No, I'd met a friend here."

"My name's Diana. What's your name?" I asked.

"Oh sorry, I should have introduced myself sooner. I'm Jarvis," he said. The waitress came around and asked what we wanted. I got my favorite Coca-Cola, and he got a Jack Daniels straight up. His hand was still shaking when the waitress brought us the drinks. He knocked his back in one shot, so I waved at the girl and gestured for another round. The alcohol did seem to steady him a bit.

"Now, what was that thing?" he asked.

"It was a demon," I responded quietly, holding my glass with both hands and looking into the drink.

"Demon? Like a demon from hell?" he asked incredulously and just a little too loudly. I looked around nervously.

"Well, I don't know about hell, but I do know it was a demon. I've killed one other before, so I'm sure."

"You've killed more than one?"

"Yes—well now I have."

"Where did it go? Back to hell?" he wanted to know just a little hysterically still.

"It went back to the Dark," I replied calmly. "Which I guess we would call hell."

"Please just explain this a little more clearly." He was rubbing his fingertips on his temples.

"Okay, look, it just sounds kookie out loud. I've even pretended to tell people just to see how it would sound, and it never gets any better. All I know is that demons really do exist, and when I come across them, I'm supposed to kill them." I hesitated, "I'm a warrior for the Light."

"You're a warrior? For light?"

"Yes. There's this struggle between the Dark and the Light—the Dark has its warriors, and the Light has its own. The demons suck the soul and blood out of people in an attempt to put an end to the Light. It's my duty to stop them. Lots of times I am successful, but there is a price...usually I die. Then I am reborn and continue the fight." As I finished, he looked at me, frowning slightly.

"You're right. That does sound kookie. So you're a warrior who gets reborn? How do you know that?"

"Because I dream about my previous lives. I am always called Diana, and I learn about demons. I learn how to kill them through those dreams."

"So if you'd died tonight, you think you would have been reborn?" he asked with just a little skepticism.

"Definitely. I am always reborn on the Summer Solstice."

"You mean June twenty-first?"

"Well, that's what it's called now. But the Gregorian calendar has only been around since about 1582. It replaced the Julian calendar that was created about 45 BC by Julius Caesar, which was also a modification on yet another calendar. So you see no matter what the calendar date actually is, I know that I was born on the longest day of the year."

"Wow. And I thought my life was mad." We both burst out laughing at his comment, tension finally leaving us.

"It's not awful really," I told him still chuckling.

"Where are you from?"

"Portland."

"Did you come to New York to kill demons?"

"No, I came because there is a house here that I set up in my last life. I wanted to see it. But unfortunately, the caretaker has died, so I have to find a replacement."

"You set up a house and hired someone to take care of it?" he asked taking another drink.

"Yes. Apparently I felt the need to have a sanctuary," I said ruefully.

"I can see the need for that," he agreed. "What exactly would the caretaker have to do?"

"Well, maintain the house, you know, make sure the plumbing works and nothing falls into disrepair. He doesn't have to fix it as long as he hires someone to do it. And then, you know, let any Diana that came along stay in it and provide money when necessary. A foundation actually owns the house and a trust was set up that a law firm manages to provide the salary and all maintenance costs."

"And do demons go around the house?" he asked with just a hint of nervousness still.

"No, not that I know of. It's supposed to be a refuge. Someplace I can go to rest if I need to."

"Okay, you're looking at your guy."

"Well..."

"No seriously, I play the piano, and I enjoy it, but I also have a degree in business from Harvard University. My father wanted me to go into the corporate world, but I hate sitting behind a desk, so I thought, hey, why not the piano? Truly I'm not a slacker. I can manage a house with my eyes closed." And then he added the real clincher, "Besides, I believe you. Who else are you going to get that will believe about demons and that you've come back from the dead?" He actually had a valid point.

"Well, first I have to go to the law firm and substantiate my claim on the house before I can hire anyone. Why don't you come with me tomorrow? I have an appointment at two o'clock with Martin Rossi, Esquire, at Crowley, Rossi & Jakes."

Once Jarvis had calmed sufficiently, we went our separate ways; he to go home and me to my hotel. We agreed to meet at the lawyer's office the next day.

Crowley, Rossi & Jakes had a hushed atmosphere, almost like a library when Jarvis and I arrived for the appointment. The reception area had dark leather chairs and the tables had newspapers such as The Wall Street Journal, New York Times and several magazines lying on them but not hiding the tables' rich finishes. The receptionist, Sally according to her nameplate, sat discretely flipping through a Cosmopolitan and occasionally answering the telephone.

After just a short wait, Mr. Rossi came out to greet us and lead us back to his office. He was just over six feet with black hair and brown eyes, remarkably Italian looking.

Once we were seated, he said, "Well, what can I do for you?"

"As I said on the telephone, I am inquiring about the Light House on Third Street."

"And?"

"And I would like to establish that I am Diana."

"I think you are under a misapprehension, miss."

"I really don't think that I am. There is a safe in this office that twenty-two years ago had a combination of 5-33-26. Into that safe, a box was placed that you are to open to establish who I am." He looked startled at my knowledge.

"You'll forgive me but with Mr. Trelawyn's passing, several crackpots have come out of the woodwork."

"I don't think you'll find that I'm a crackpot, Mr. Rossi, I am Diana reborn. Which is why this process has been set up. In that box is another sealed package that contains the identifying information. As long as you have fulfilled your trust and the package is yet unopened, then my knowledge of what it contains will prove who I claim to be." As I saw his hesitation, I wondered if it had already been opened.

"Very well. It is required that I attempt to verify any claim." He went to the far left wall, and behind what looked like the original Renoir oil painting called The Swing, he opened a wall safe.

After sitting back at his desk and placing the container down, he asked, "Can you tell me the first identifier?"

"Yes. The first level of identification contains the names of the bedrooms within the house: The Blue Room, The Red Room, The Ecru Room, The White Room and The Silver Room. They were to be named in that order, so that their initials would spell BREWS."

"Very good. Now for the next level." He had opened the box and withdrew a sealed envelope with the number one on it. Its unopened status meant that no one had ever tried to establish a Diana identity.

"In that envelope you will find a listing of my childhood pets: Muffy the cat, AJ the gold fish, and Mac the Scottish terrier." He opened the envelope, withdrew a sheet of paper and quickly read the list.

"Again good. Next."

"The next barrier was not to ascertain my personal likes or dislikes but those of Mr. Crowley. He placed a list of his favorite meals in the next envelope with the first being a T-bone steak with baked potato and the second being spaghetti with meat balls." Mr. Rossi opened the next envelope and perused the list.

"Very good." He gestured for me to continue.

"In that last envelope is the poem by Robert Frost called The Road Not Taken with two lines underlined:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–

I took the one less traveled by.

"No one, not even Mr. Crowley, was aware of what I put in that envelope." As I ended, he opened the envelope and nodded.

"Very well. What are your instructions?" Mr. Rossi ended by having to cancel the rest of his appointments that day. We needed to modify the Foundation and the trust, hire Jarvis, and set up a new set of identifiers for the next Diana. As it was, I felt lucky I had dreamed of the house and how to access it.

* * * *

The Present

I had stayed with Jarvis only long enough for him to get settled in, and then I'd felt a new compulsion that headed me to the West Coast and had never gone back. Looking at him now, I was happy to see him again. Though his face was lined, his eyes still sparkled as they had when he'd been young.

"It's wonderful to see you as well." I smiled at him.

"The others are in the library."

"The others?" I wondered how many others there were. I remember that I had told Jarret about the house and offered it to him for refuge in a different time (and life). And I had told him that if he met others like ourselves to share the word. I guess he had.

"Yes, Jarret has lived here off and on for many years, of course, but the rest just started showing up this past week," he smiled as he opened the door further to invite me in. The entrance hall was cool and light with a round dark table that had a huge display of flowers as a centerpiece directly below a crystal chandelier. The scent of roses permeated the room, and I had a sense of welcome.

"You're really here," he said closing the door behind me. "When Jarret first showed up almost twenty years ago, I was very excited thinking that, after all that time, I would see you again. That it all hadn't been a dream. You see, I had started to feel that it must not have happened. And then, boom, there he was. When he told me that he'd met you but that you'd died, I was sad. But I knew that you were out there—out there doing what you do. You're life is incredible, and I have been very happy and proud to be a part of it." His eyes were a little misty which would be expected when you realize that your life had just been vindicated. Really he had worked far past what I would have expected. He should have stopped working long ago.

"Jarvis, why are you still answering the door? Haven't you been able to find a replacement so that you could retire?" I asked as I put my backpack on the table.

"Well as a matter of fact, my grandson is in training now. He is Jarvis Wilhelm Gratwick, III. So we call him Third," he said with a chuckle. Then in a more serious tone, "But this has been a good life, and I have not felt the need to leave it. Ah, here he is now. Third, this is Diana." Third gave a grimace at the sound of his name. He was probably twenty-five and also wore a black suit. I guess he hated the nickname, but I rather liked it. It seemed to suit him.

"Hello Diana," he said pleasantly, and I nodded. "I will be happy to escort you to the library where the others are waiting. The Silver Room, as always, is available for you to sleep in. Shall I drop your bag there?" he asked, picking up my backpack. The Silver Room was not actually silver although it had light gray walls. It had a silvery blue carpet, soothing accent colors, a beautiful dark four-poster bed, and slate gray drapes framing the window.

"That would be great, thanks," I said as he led me down the hall.

There were four people lounging in different chairs when I entered the room. The library was floor to ceiling books on two sides. Surrounded by enclosed cabinets, a large, empty fireplace seemed to take up the opposing wall. The final wall was filled with a large window flanked by dark, red velvet drapes, currently flung open to let in the fading evening light. There were several comfy looking chairs with tables placed conveniently close by, one large mahogany desk behind which sat a massive leather chair, and a couple of oak desks you would see in a college library where students could conduct research complete with laptops.

They all stood and smiled at my entrance. I only recognized one. A tall, solidly built man with broad shoulders, probably fortyish, with an open face and ready smile said, "I'm Jarret." I'd met him almost twenty years ago just before this incarnation. As he reached out to hug me, chill bumps raised the hair on my arms, and I remembered that I had died in his arms.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" I smiled hesitantly and nodded in response.

##### 

## 5 Jarret

Diana didn't look like the girl I'd met so briefly in Florida back in 1992, except for the light shining in her eyes. The meeting with her had altered my life so completely, and yet, I'd not have had it any other way. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and I felt I would have known Diana, even if I had simply seen her walking down a crowded street—if I could just see her eyes, of course. It made me remember that last moment with her.

* * * *

1992 CE

It was the middle of hurricane season, and it looked like we were going to be hit! Of course, the way Florida stuck out into the Gulf, it was hit often, but Hurricane Andrew was a Category 5 storm, which was pretty severe. Lots of people were heading north. Not me, man, I was going to ride the waves!

Life in the region of Miami revolved around the ocean and water sports, and I'd been surfing my entire life. With a Cat 5 in the area, the waves would be awesome! I was stoked! While messing around in the garage getting my gear together, my friend Danny showed up with his jeep so that we could load the boards and hit the waves.

"Hey, man, your folks already gone?" He asked in greeting. Danny was blonde, buff, and tan, wearing some red jams and a yellow t-shirt. His fingernails had a perpetual black line under them from working on engines—didn't matter what kind, car, boat, jet ski. He was some kind of mechanical genius. The story went that he took apart the family lawn mower when he was three, and actually put it back together in working order!

"Yeah, they left a couple of hours ago. When they realize I didn't leave, they're going to freak," I grinned. My mom was okay I guess, but my dad was just a complete jackass. Whatever I did, it was always the wrong thing or not good enough. He would have done it this way or done it differently. Whatever. Most of my time was spent either at the beach or at Danny's place. His mom always had a spot for me on the couch.

"Well, let's hit it, man," he said enthusiastically after we had loaded the boards, and we headed down the road.

We were just about to get to the Fontainbleau Hotel when I saw the girl running. The hotel was famous and usually filled to capacity, but Miami was deserted due to the evacuation. We were trying to avoid the National Guard—so far so good. The hotel had been built in 1954, and people like Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra had performed there; and the James Bond movie Goldfinger was filmed there.

As no one else was around, she was pretty noticeable. She had short, curly, black hair and was dressed totally in black—black t-shirt, black army pants with all the pockets down the thighs, and black combat boots. From this distance, it even looked like her lips were black on her extremely pale face.

She came out of a side street full blast and skidded around the corner by grabbing a fence post to help her swing about. She took a quick glance over her shoulder when she released the fence, then continued on. As she headed up the shallow steps to the hotel and gained the entrance, a large animal appeared, following her rapidly.

"Whoa, did you see that? That thing was huge!" I yelled. When Danny stomped on the brakes a half a block away, the jeep skidded to a stop. We heard the crash of breaking glass in the silence of the deserted city and watched as the animal disappeared up the steps after her.

"Was that a wolf?" he asked in astonishment.

"It couldn't have been. For one thing it was black, and I don't think wolves are black, and for another, we're in south Florida for Christ's sake!"

"Maybe it escaped from the zoo."

"Man, the hurricane hasn't even hit yet." We could see the distinct line of clouds in the distance—still far enough off not to have brought the really heavy winds, yet it was pushing the water to create the swells we wanted to surf. "How would it escape?" I wanted to know.

After a few seconds, I stated, "We have to help her." I didn't know what we could do, but there was a burning sensation in my stomach, and I knew there was no turning my back on the girl in black that had been chased into the Fontainbleau.

"Open the glove box." As the lid fell open, I saw a pistol, a .38 revolver to be exact.

"Where'd this come from?" I asked in shock.

"I didn't want to drive cross country without protection. I figured we'd be sleeping in the jeep mostly sooo..." he trailed off with a shrug. We'd planned on leaving right after the hurricane to head for southern California. I had abided by my folks' desire for me to go to college. In fact, I had just graduated with a degree in finance. Yes, I was good with numbers. But being stuck in an office would just suck! I wanted the wind and the waves, man.

I'd been working part-time at Eddie's Garage where Danny worked as a full-time mechanic. We'd saved enough money to make the trip and have a couple of weeks to get settled before we even had to look for jobs. I felt a surge of excitement at the thought of California. Surf's up! But then I looked back at the gun in my hand and shivered.

"Okay, let's go," he said.

We cautiously followed the two up the steps and saw that the glass entrance door had been smashed—apparently by utilizing one of the posts that used rope to control foot traffic.

"Careful," Danny whispered, as we eased through the shattered glass in our flip-flops. The silence in the hotel was eerie. It made me jittery. It was difficult to realize I was so used to people. Even if it was just next door, there was always someone around.

I would not have been surprised if Rod Serling had stepped out from behind one of the columns of the hotel entrance. He'd be casually holding a cigarette, flicking a little ash, and would state calmly, "The guys think they're entering a hotel, but in reality, they're about to check into The Twilight Zone." The scene would be complete with a dramatic pause and sinister music.

I felt like we were already in that episode where the old guy just wanted to be alone so that he could read. In a cruel twist of fate, when everyone was gone, he breaks his glasses and can't read. So there he was all alone, nobody anywhere. I was really creepin' myself out.

I definitely didn't want to do this, but I knew we couldn't leave her on her own. If we can even find her before the wolf finds us, I thought. I sniffed. Phew! Something must have died in here. I saw Danny wrinkle his nose too. As we hesitated in the lobby, we heard a crash followed by a roaring growl to our left.

"I think the kitchen is through the dining area there," I said. Then we heard a slamming door. "What was that?"

"Maybe the stairwell door? Or is there a back door? Let's go," Danny replied. Great maybe she was gone, and we were the only ones stuck with the wolf thing now.

As we maneuvered through the swinging kitchen door, it was all quiet again. We paused to get our bearings, and Danny gestured with his chin towards the back where we could see a short, wide hall and a closed door with a "Stairs" sign over it. We had made it about half way to the stairwell door when the wolf suddenly jumped up on one of the counters, scattering clanging pans and utensils everywhere. Danny took aim with the .38 and shot the wolf. It was hit, and it even paused, but it just seemed to shake itself and then crouched for another spring.

Danny gave me a shove and yelled, "Run!"

I slammed into the stairwell door scrabbling at the handle. Danny rammed into my back, and we were through the door, racing up the stairs on our hands and feet. We entered into a dimly lit stairwell. It was on an outer wall and had windows, fortunately, because the city had cut the power off in preparation for the hurricane. Otherwise, we would have entered into darkness. I had made it up one level and made the turn for the next when I heard Danny scream from behind me. His voice was higher by several octaves than I'd ever heard it—didn't know it could even make that sound. Several more levels up, a face peered down the center of the well.

"Danny!" I shouted and turned to go back down but paused when several explosions momentarily deafened me. Danny was firing the gun point blank at the wolf, which had pinned him to the stairs with one paw on his stomach and another across his lower legs. It was chewing its way up Danny's thigh. It paused with each shot and gave itself a shake, blood splattering from its mouth, before latching back onto Danny.

"Come on!" The girl shouted down the stairs at me.

"Danny!" I yelled staring at him.

He looked up at me despairingly and gave a hoarse shout, "Go!"

The wolf had worked its way up to Danny's side and tore a chunk of flesh from his midsection and swallowed. Danny was staring down at himself in shock, blood and a wispy white substance flowing rapidly from his horrendous wounds, knowing they could only be mortal. Danny placed the gun barrel in his mouth, and then there was one final shot.

I felt a hand on my arm, "Come on! We have to hurry!" she whispered urgently. The girl had come down the stairs to reach me, and too stunned to resist, I followed. We hurried up two flights of stairs before exiting. She had some rope from the post she had used to smash the entrance door. She used it to tie the handle of the stairwell door to the door handle across the hall, effectively preventing the door being opened from within the stairwell.

"Okay, that will stop it for a little while, but we have to get out of here. I don't suppose you have any silver weapons on you?"

"What?"

"You guys are warriors, right?"

"What?" She wasn't making sense. I couldn't get my bearings. God, poor Danny.

"Okay, look," she said softly. "I'm sorry about your friend, but we have to focus if we're going to survive. The only thing that will kill that thing is silver."

"You mean...it's a werewolf?" I asked incredulously.

"No, it's a demon, and the only way to kill it is with silver. We have to stick it with something silver."

Still breathing hard and desperately trying not to remember the stairwell, I shrugged. I felt sick but the nausea was beginning to retreat.

"What's your name? Why did you come in here?"

"I'm Jarret. We saw you and saw that wolf thing chasing after, so we wanted to help you."

"So you are a warrior?" She asked uncertainly.

"I don't follow you."

"You must be. If you weren't, it would've been absolutely crazy for you guys to follow that thing in here. Okay, look. Listen to me." She looked as if she'd made a momentous decision, and she really wanted me to pay attention, because she even grabbed my arm and gave it a shake.

"That is a demon down there not a wolf. They take different appearances when they first form. Mostly they seem to be somewhat humanoid, kind of black cloaked with elongated arms that end with claws for hands, but they can really be anything. They can look like the monsters from fairy tales or human. Not many take on a completely human form though. But all the stories you've ever heard about monsters, werewolves, and vampires are really about the same thing, all demons."

"Demons?" I asked wondering if she was a complete psycho.

"Demons," she replied. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but you saw your friend fire directly into it, and it wasn't even fazed." That was true. Danny must have fired four or five shots at the thing between the kitchen and stairwell, several times were up close and extremely personal.

"There are those of us, who for whatever reason, were chosen to fight the demons," she continued. "It's to prevent the Dark from consuming the Light."

"The Light? Like the sun?"

"No, it's more like the Light that lives within each of us. The demons don't just kill people; they consume people's souls. Each time they do, the Dark grows stronger and the Light dims. If your friend hadn't pulled that trigger when he had, then his soul would have gone to the demon."

"So, you what? Kill demons for a living? Was that a major at your college? Demons 101?" Sarcasm had always been a forte of mine—one reason my dad and I didn't get along too well, and at the moment, it was the only thing letting me hang on to my sanity.

"Well, no, but when I come across one, then I have to kill it—if I can. I felt compelled to come to Miami which meant that there was one here, but I came upon the wolf unexpectedly in that side street. This hurricane evacuation thing has really caused me some problems. Before I knew it, it had knocked me down, and I had lost my weapon. So I just ran for it." While she was speaking, we were trying doors in the corridor, looking for one that might be open.

"How did you find out about the...demons?" I asked.

"I dream about them. Look, maybe you haven't remembered anything yet. Or maybe you won't ever, I don't know," she paused, looked at me, and grabbed my arm again. "I just know that they are real. In fact, I've killed two others before this one."

"You've killed others?"

"Yes. One was this really huge, hulking creature, straight out of a 1950s B horror movie. You know, kind of like Abbott and Costello Meet The Creature from the Black Lagoon. It shambled along, and its sheer size and weight was the problem. But it had this soft, flappy, oozing skin that everything stuck to. It was completely disgusting. The other was small—with lots of teeth. You know, I think that the demon's size is usually determined by how long it's been here."

"You mean, maybe they start out small and grow as they eat souls?" I asked her.

"Maybe, I'm not sure. There are some that don't look like creatures at all. Some look completely human." She added that in a quiet, thoughtful tone.

"Anyway for trying to help me, you deserve some help in return. In New York there's the Light House. A man named Jarvis runs it, or used to, for The Foundation for Light, which owns it. I set it up as a sanctuary, sort of, years ago now. Anyway, if you make it out of here and I don't, go there. Tell whoever answers the door that Diana sent you. Got that? I'm Diana. Ask to stay in the Blue Room. Inside the wardrobe in that room, there's a safe. Its combination is easy to remember: 5-4-3-2-1. I've left information about demons in the safe. Go there. Use it as a home base to travel from if you want. Tell others if you run across them. I don't mind. You got that?"

"Umm, house, New York, Diana sent me, blue room, safe 5-4-3-2-1," I repeated.

"Okay, we've got to find something silver, preferably something really sharp."

"Silver?" I felt like an idiot, seeming to parrot what she was saying every single time.

"Yes, demons can only be destroyed with silver. The silver must remain in their body for a minute or so to do them in. I'm not sure why. Some strange chemical reaction I think, because they sure smoke," she said with a grin.

"Smoke. Ummm, there were some cases in the lobby displaying knives and swords. I noticed them when we came in—some medieval thing. One of them might be silver, I guess."

"Excellent," she nodded and headed down the hall.

"Hey, wait. Where are you going?"

"Let's find the elevator and see if we can climb down the shaft."

We located the elevator next to a narrow hall table that was holding up several stacks of travel brochures describing the best sightseeing destinations for the Miami area. The hotel wasn't going to be on my list anymore, that's for sure. We found we weren't able to use just our fingers to pry open the doors, and before I knew what she was going to do, Diana flipped the hall table over and smashed her foot down on the end of one of the legs, breaking it off. With the sharp edge of the leg, we pried the elevator door open to a completely black well.

"Uhh, no. No offense, but I'm not going down that," I said, backing away and shaking my head.

"It's okay, I'll go. I suggest you get as far away from that stairwell as you can and find somewhere to hide. I'll give a yell if I manage to kill the thing." With that she eased over the edge and started working her way down into the blackness. But I couldn't leave. I waited, holding my breath to listen as she progressed downward, and heard when she reached the top of the elevator.

"Great...great, great, great," I whispered, slipping over the edge into the shaft to follow her. She had already gotten into the elevator and was working on the doors when I reached her. Together we exited the elevator and made a quiet advance to the lobby.

"There," I whispered and pointed to the far wall where the cases were standing. Inside them on display were daggers, knives, even rapiers. Above the cases on the walls were broadswords crossed over each other, shields with lions and flags pictured on them, and spears. She walked along the cases gently dragging her fingertips along the glass, even reaching up to touch the swords. She stopped when she got to the end of the cases.

"Here, help me." I gave her a boost, so that she could climb onto the case. It was a spear on the wall that she was interested in. As she pulled it down, the wolf appeared, slinking along the wall from the elevator moving silently, its black eyes glittering feverishly in the dim light that filtered through the lobby windows. The hurricane rain had already begun, I noticed irrelevantly. She eased back down to the floor and stood before me.

"Go. As soon as I engage it, run." With that she took a step towards the wolf and gave an experimental jab with the spear.

"Is that silver?" I asked her, uncertain if I should leave...it felt cowardly somehow.

"Yes. Now go!" She ran headlong towards the wolf as she shouted, and the wolf crouched and gave an enormous leap straight at her. The spear pierced the wolf, glancing off its ribs, leaving the silver tip sticking back out along its side. It screamed in rage and pain with the spear lodged, but its momentum carried it forward. It smashed Diana to the floor with its front paws, latched its teeth onto her shoulder, and gave her a shake. With her lips curled back, she screamed through clenched teeth and tried to fend off the wolf's head unsuccessfully with her hands.

Without thinking I ran forward and grabbed the end of the spear that bobbed around as the wolf moved, pulling it back out. Distracted from finishing off Diana, the wolf gave another growling roar and came at me head on. I braced myself, planting the butt end of the spear on the floor and angled the tip to face the wolf. The wolf impaled itself on the spear, the weight snapping it in two. The animal fell sideways to the right while I dove out of the way in the opposite direction. Then as we lay there, it started to smoke! Black spirals of smoke were heading toward the ceiling, and before I knew it, it was just gone! The spear clattered to the floor.

In shock, I crawled over to Diana. She was bleeding heavily from wounds in her chest, shoulder, and side, but as I sat up and pulled her into my arms, cradling her, she smiled at me.

"We did it," she whispered. "Well done."

"What happened to it?" I asked as I smoothed her hair back from her forehead gently.

"They always evaporate back into the Dark. I don't know if they're reborn or not, but I've always thought that they are."

"The Dark?"

"Go to the Light House, Jarret. You'll find some answers there," her voice faded. And then the light in her eyes disappeared, and Diana was gone.

* * * *

I really expected whoever answered the door to the house in New York to think I was a complete psycho just trying to pull a scam, especially when I saw how large and stylish it was. Before I had a chance to finish walking up the front steps, the door opened, and a little boy, who looked to be about five, came out.

"Fine, I'll just stay outside then until a bad person takes me away!" he yelled and slammed the door shut. But he stopped short when he turned and saw me towering over him. His eyes got really big and round, and I knew that he was thinking I must be the 'bad person' he'd been warned of so often.

"Hey, I'm Jarret. What's your name?"

"I'm Third." At which point the conversation ended. Fortunately, the door opened and a tall man in a black suit stepped out.

He looked at me then said to the boy, "Third, go to your room. I'll talk to you later about your attitude towards your mother."

"Yes, Grandfather," the little boy said and scurried quickly through the door disappearing into the darkened interior. The man looked at me inquiringly.

"Umm, hey, my name is Jarret. I met this girl named Diana. She told me that I should come here." I paused at that point because he started looking up and down the street as if he expected her at any moment.

"Diana sent you?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

"Is she coming too?" he asked looking hopeful.

"I'm sorry," this is what I'd been dreading telling whoever answered the door, "she died." But he just looked down for a moment and sighed.

"Well, I guess it was too much to hope to see her this time around. Just out of curiosity, how old was she?"

"I'm not really sure, umm, early twenties maybe or a little younger." He nodded at the information.

"Come in then. Did she tell you to stay in a particular room?"

"She told me to ask for the Blue Room."

"An excellent choice." It sounded as if I were choosing a bottle of wine. "Come, come. You are most welcome, and we will get you settled in before you know it."

"So you know about what Diana does? Did?" I asked curiously as we entered the foyer.

"Yes, she saved me from a demon when we were both twenty-two. I had just graduated from college and was looking for a job," he smiled in memory. "Are you a warrior too or just a believer like me?"

"I guess maybe a warrior. Or at least I've killed a demon. I don't really know anything else. She told me that I would find some information here."

"Ah, yes. There's a diary she probably wanted you to read. I really hoped that I'd get to see her again. Even though our meeting was so brief, I feel as if I knew her well. There was a connection. I miss her." He added simply.

"I know what you mean," I said as he opened the door to the Blue Room. It was completely blue—not one shade, but many. The carpet was darkest, the walls gradually lightened as your eye moved upward and the ceiling was lightest of all. I felt almost as if I had walked into an underwater ocean room. It was cool, relaxing and completely remarkable.

"I hope you like it," Jarvis said.

"How could anyone not like it? It's amazing. I love it."

"I'll let you settle in then. Dinner will be served at seven." He quietly closed the door as he left, and I heard his even footsteps muffled by carpet move down the hall. When I looked around, I saw the wardrobe that should contain the safe. Sure enough, it was there, and the combination worked. Inside there was a stack of papers and a small, thin leather bound book. I took it out and opened it, flipping pages and randomly read a few passages.

Diary of Diana

February 3, 1936

I had another nightmare last night. Not sure what it was about. It was all dark and cold. I can remember shivering constantly and the feel of stone under my palms and along my back. Woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Drank hot chocolate sitting by the fire in the library.

I guess she dreamed in all of her lives, I thought flipping to another page:

March 14, 1936

Dreamed about him again. He was on a black horse with the wind whipping around, but he was smiling as if he enjoyed fighting against the elements. He reached out his hand towards me, as if inviting me to join him. But when I put my hand in his, I awoke.

Men and horses, great.

June 8, 1936

In the dream everything was shrouded in fog. I was lost and could hear someone calling my name, but I couldn't tell in which direction I should go. Fear was my constant companion, as I seemed to wander for hours. I woke still tired as if I'd had no sleep at all.

Well, so far there's nothing really explaining the whole demon thing, I thought, turning another few pages.

September 28, 1936

It was him once more. What draws me to him in my dreams? Who is he? I've never heard his name, just seen his dark compelling eyes and that rare, wonderful smile. All men pale in comparison. My mother doesn't understand why I'm not interested in any of the men she introduces me to and I can't tell her. She would think me a lunatic. Besides, she worries enough because of my nightmares.

Who was she dreaming about? Why didn't I have dreams? Diana, the one I'd met anyway, seemed to think that dreams gave her answers, but the diary Diana didn't seem to have answers, only questions.

December 2, 1936

Mother's friend Dot told me of a spiritualist, Madam Rosa, today. She says I should go see her, not wait, but run to see her today. I don't believe it will help, but I am willing to try anything at this point. I sometimes try to skip sleeping completely. I feel as if I am coming apart, nothing is holding me together anymore. Exhaustion wears me down.

December 3, 1936

I saw Madam Rosa yesterday. She was incredible. She knew about him. I've told no one about the man in my dreams. More importantly she told me that I would die soon. Incredible! But with that information she said that I had died many times and been reborn. I need to investigate fortune tellers. It was almost as if she could read my mind.

I'd never really credited seeing the future or mind reading but Madam Rosa certainly nailed it about being reborn. I wonder, and I turned to the last entry.

May 6, 1937

Dreamed of him last night. He was standing on a hill by a tree in the fading afternoon light, holding a bloody sword with his head bowed. He seemed defeated and sad.

Today we are going to meet Daddy's business associate, Alberto Rossi. He and his family are to arrive in the United States from Italy.

Well, she did die young, that's true, I thought. Was it the fact that a previous Diana had not known anything about demons that my Diana had wanted me to see? Maybe I'm not supposed to know about them during this life. Well, that's screwed up now.

Under the diary in the safe there was a stack of papers. Still searching for answers I pulled them out and sat down at a writing desk placed along the wall near the window to look them over before going down to dinner.

* * * *

The Present

It had been close to twenty years now since I'd flipped through that diary, and now here Diana was again. It was mind-boggling. If I weren't a part of this, I never would have believed it.

"We think you're the last to arrive, Diana." I gestured towards the others in the room. "People just started showing up out of the blue, and somehow I thought you'd be here before long to tell us what's going on. At least I hope you can because no one else has a clue. Come, let me introduce you to Solomon, David and Helen." I pointed to each as I said their name.

Helen. Wow. Helen was statuesque and gorgeous. If Wonder Woman had been blonde, she would have been Helen. Her china blue eyes sparkled with mischief as she held out her hand to Diana and said, "You are so very young. Have you any experience yet?" Not asked unkindly from her mature thirty with just a hint of a British accent, just curious. I had never met anyone I wanted to know more than I did Helen. It wasn't just her looks, which were almost unbelievably awesome, but kindness seemed to emanate from her. People felt—I felt, at ease with her as I never had with any other woman.

"Only in my dreams," Diana replied nervously.

David shook Diana's hand next. He appeared to be in his early twenties—the closest in age to her. His head was shaved, and he had a tattoo of a cobra head on his neck. Its mouth was open with its fangs showing, and a drop of venom appeared to spill out. As if the snake coiled around his torso, the rest of the snake disappeared down into his t-shirt.

"Hey," she said.

Then came Solomon. He was the oldest of us. He looked like a college professor, with round spectacles, a tan sweater vest with a white shirt and tie above his Levi's and boat shoes. I mean, who really wears sweater vests?

"Why don't we all sit down, so we can talk about this? We're hoping you know something, because we all just felt a compulsion to be here without really knowing why," Solomon said.

As we all took seats, Diana said, "Well, I'm here because of a video on the Internet by a bishop named Paul Soratino. I recognized him. From a time before, you know. In the video he asked for warriors. So I called him, and he said that there are demons in the catacombs killing people in Rome. He asked for as many of us as possible to come because as he phrased it, 'there's an infestation.'" I looked at Solomon—infestation, I thought. David just looked at his boots and Helen licked her lips nervously.

"That's—odd," Helen said. "I've never heard of demons congregating in more than ones or twos. Anyone else?" Sol and David sat staring, lost in thought at the news.

"So we're going to Rome," stated David finally.

"Well, let's think about this," Sol cautioned, refocusing on the conversation. "Could this be some kind of trap? What did you say to Soratino?" He directed his attention to Diana.

"Just that I would come as quickly as I could but that I didn't know anyone else. He seemed awfully disappointed. I didn't think about this place until I was packing. And then I thought I would just stop by here on my way. Just to see, you know?"

"Okay, so Soratino doesn't know about the rest of us. I say we keep it that way. The fewer people who know that there will be more than one warrior going to Rome the better," Solomon said.

"Why are you suspicious?" Diana asked him.

"To be honest, I don't have a definite reason. It just doesn't feel right. So you knew him when he was young?"

"No, I mean, I only met him the one time. I just barely managed to save him from a demon that was attacking him. I told him it was a demon. That was it."

"Why would he think there were others then?" David asked quietly.

"I didn't mention others. I died too quickly," Diana grimaced in response. I guess she didn't like dying. Can't say I blame her. "But I did tell him I was a warrior," she added sheepishly.

"How would a bishop even know that the demons were in the catacombs?" Helen asked looking at me.

"That's a good question because I wouldn't think that bishops go into the catacombs much now. I think they're just tourist destinations at this point," I said.

Diana eyes looked worried as she added, "He said there was a reporter who had broken some kind of catacomb killing story in the papers over there. I was going to look it up when I got there."

"Why wouldn't he just give someone a silver weapon and tell him to go kill it? Why call for warriors?" David wanted to know.

"Good point. Diana, I think it best if you meet with Soratino, get the details, and then meet up with us to discuss what he has to say, so that he doesn't know about the rest of us. I know I probably sound paranoid, but it's just a gut feeling here," Solomon said.

"If it is a trap, she'd be walking into it alone," David said, looking around at the rest of us. "She's pretty young to be sent into the lions' den by herself."

"Maybe you could go to the Vatican as a tourist to be near her but act like you don't know her. Perhaps just 'bump' into her and follow her around," Helen suggested.

"That could work," he agreed nodding.

"I would also suggest we all travel to Rome by different means. For instance, I can fly into Florence and take a train to Rome. Since Diana is going to be our 'face,' so to speak, we should all probably stay in a different hotel from her." The others were all nodding in agreement, and it seemed sensible, but Diana looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth.

"As she's so young, I could accompany her as a chaperone on her flight," suggested Helen.

"That'd be great," Diana said with obvious relief. "I'm meeting my friends Sam and Maggie on the connecting flight out of New York to Rome tomorrow. Sam thought that it would be a good cover to be journalism students, so that we could ask questions, and it wouldn't seem unusual."

"Perfect, then I can be the teacher accompanying her students," Helen smiled.

##### 

## 6 Helen

Looking at Diana, I felt a little sting of envy. Oh not for her looks. She's cute enough with her short, curly hair, but it was just that she was so young and fresh—full of vitality. I'd turned thirty and felt a decade older. Fortunately, in this life beauty had been regained! I wasn't quite back to the face that launched a thousand ships but getting there. It's funny how history remembers some information. Often only bits and bobs survive, and of those, the pieces are usually all twisted about. So many stories about Helen of Troy and the Trojan War survive into modern time—although nothing really accurate. Perhaps the fact that there had been a woman named Helen and a war had been fought during her lifetime was sufficient acknowledgment of existence.

* * * *

1260 BCE

"Helen, your father sends for you." Sylvia, my companion and friend, called to me from my sitting room. I was still lazing in bed with the sun up. I loved my room, my sanctuary. It was bright and pretty with my bed surrounded by gossamer white hangings. Sylvia and I had painted scenes on the walls around the room depicting the gods...Aphrodite in her temple surrounded by flowers; Diana, the goddess of the hunt, with deer fleeing into a woodland scene away from her bow and arrow; Athena in her wisdom pictured sitting under the olive tree she had bestowed upon Athens; and Zeus sitting upon his throne with his lightning bolt resting at his side not far from his hand.

My father was Tyndareus, King of Sparta, and would want me to set a better example for our people. So I hurriedly got up and dressed in a simple white cotton sheath and went to the hall of judgment where he would be hearing the peoples' complaints and grievances about each other. But when I entered, there were only a few men present, and those were strangers.

"Ahh, here is my daughter. As I told you, she is a vision to behold and her temperament is sweet and kind. Helen, this is Paris of Troy."

"Indeed, the most beautiful of all women," Paris agreed looking at me from head to toe. He was fair, there was no denying it, but obviously a soldier. He was tall and slim, though well muscled, with blonde hair and the gray blue eyes of a stormy sea. I wondered how he would perform in the Olympic games. The men were highly competitive and strove fiercely to win, thus gaining the favor of the gods as well as the women, I remembered with a smile. But, I was uncertain. Though the words were agreeable, there was tension in the air.

"So we are agreed?" Tyndareus asked.

Still looking at me, Paris nodded.

"Daughter, pack your belongings. You sail on the tide with Paris and will be married in Troy."

"Yes, father," I agreed and swiftly left the room. What else could I say? I had always known that I would make whatever marriage my father chose for me—probably one that would be politically beneficial for Sparta. It was just that he had always seemed to favor Menelaus. Menelaus was a king in his own right, wealthy and powerful. His brother Agamemnon had just married my sister Clytemnestra and taken her to Mycenae. We both had thought that I would be joining her soon. I wondered if I would ever see her again now.

My father had had many offers of marriage for me and had spurned them all up until now. What had Paris offered that had made him accept?

"Sylvia," I called as I entered my suite, "come help me! I have been ordered to Troy to marry Paris." I felt a fluttering sensation in my stomach.

"You are to marry Paris? I heard that he was most handsome."

"But have you heard if he is kind? He was dressed as a simple soldier in the judgment hall. What else have you heard?"

"He is no simple soldier, of that I am sure. He is a prince of Troy." As we spoke, she called for servants to help us gather my things. As my companion, Sylvia would go with me, but as she was also my friend, I gave her the option.

"Don't be ridiculous, Helen, of course I am going with you. Maybe there will even be someone for me in Troy." I was glad of her agreement because I was a little frightened thinking of going on my own. We gathered our belongings swiftly and went to the harbor to find Paris.

"Helen." He greeted me pleasantly as we boarded the ship, and I took his proffered hand to guide me to the decking. "Aphrodite herself could not have promised me a more attractive wife than if I had bestowed upon her a golden apple in a beauty contest."

"Beauty stands before you, yes, but is that all you see?" I wondered aloud.

"Beauty shall fade, but it does not mean that my regard shall fade as well," he said bowing towards me slightly.

I smiled at the thought of his beauty contest, "But then who could possibly be beautiful enough to actually compete with Aphrodite?"

"Well, let's see." He put is hand to his chin as if giving this topic the most serious contemplation. "There is, naturally, the wise goddess, Athena."

"Naturally."

"And I suppose we could always add the queen of the gods and that goddess of marriage, Hera," he added with another smile.

"You are making the competitors such that it will be very difficult to choose between them."

"It is simple really," he said looking intently into my eyes, "I would choose whosoever promised me you." My tension eased. He would be kind after all.

Troy was a fabulous city whose vast walls were built in legend by Poseidon and Apollo as their punishment for attempting to overthrow Zeus. By the time we reached there, it no longer mattered to me why my father had agreed to the marriage. I was happy with his choice and considered myself extremely fortunate to have a kind and thoughtful man to marry.

Unfortunately, Menelaus was not so pleased. He thought my father had betrayed him, that I was promised to him instead. In retaliation, he raised a vast army, which sailed to lay siege to Troy. A thousand ships from all over the Mediterranean, which carried at least fifty soldiers each...and each leader willing to fight with Menelaus to win a portion of Troy.

It was not just that Menelaus had lost me, but he had been slighted and felt as all men do. Paris should not have what he, Menelaus, could not have. Of course, no war was fought just over a woman. There were other reasons, but history remembers only what it will, and often that has nothing to do with the actual truth.

In Troy I was united with a new family, gaining a sister, Polyxena, and a new brother, Hector. Hector was a soldier, and as the eldest, he was the leader and their greatest warrior. Sylvia's wish was granted in that she fell in love with Hector, and they were married. It was Hector that led the mighty battles against Menelaus' allied troops that lay siege to Troy. Each time Paris went outside the walls to confront the enemy horde with his brother and their men, I was terrified for him.

It was also in Troy that I first learned about the demons. I had been in Troy and married for nigh on ten years when I finally went to a sacred grove to pray to Hera. After so many years, I was barren, and I prayed for a child to present to Paris. While kneeling amongst the trees, I smelled a strong, foul odor. The knowledge came upon me in an instant. It was a demon! I knew in a moment that I would not be able to fight it because I had no silver weapon. The wind was gently blowing from my right, so I quietly eased my way to the left and headed back to the palace. Then I went to locate Sylvia.

"Sylvia, I would like a silver tipped arrow. Do you suppose there are any here, or would we have to dip it ourselves?"

"There are the ceremonial weapons in the audience hall. I think those are all silver."

"Of course, I was not thinking. Thank you."

"Wait a moment! Why do you need it?" But I was already running down the passageway as she called to me.

I chose several weapons that day. I took a bow and arrow, as well as a sword and a dagger. They would probably not withstand a true fight, which is why they were ceremonial, I suppose. Then I went back to the grove. When I arrived, I simply stood in the center waiting for the breeze to bring me its position. I would prefer to shoot it with an arrow, but the number of trees would make that difficult because the demon would probably be too close for me to shoot it effectively. Which is precisely what happened.

With no wind blowing, it was the snapping of a twig that alerted me to danger. I turned, and the demon was upon me. I barely had time to bring the arrow around so that it pointed towards the demon. It threw me to the ground with its impact, its momentum carrying it onto the arrow. I felt claws rip down my back as we fell. Then the demon screamed in agony and rolled from me, beginning to shake and smolder. When it exploded into a cloud of vile, black smoke, I knew that it had returned to the Dark, and that I had been extremely lucky. But I was also granted the knowledge that had I died, I would have been reborn to continue the fight.

I crawled to a tree to pull myself up to my feet, gasping for breath at the pain. It was as if with that smell, I had been granted comprehension of a new part of the universe. I was changed forever. I returned to Sylvia so that she could put salve on my back and bind the wounds.

While I had been in the grove, there had been a great battle outside the walls of Troy. It began the events of a more personal tragedy than just a siege lasting ten long years. Ten years of unrelenting, constant battle. The many different allies who were initially eager to assist Menelaus now grew weary and longed for their homes...and one warrior was about to give them their excuse to withdraw from the war.

The greatest warrior that joined Menelaus against Troy was Achilles. Stories of Achilles' prowess on the battlefield were plentiful. He was said to be the son of the gods, so fortunate and invincible was he in his glorious armor. And his men worshiped him and vowed to follow him anywhere.

However, Agamemnon, he who had married my sister Clytemnestra, brother of Menelaus, angered his comrade-in-arms by taking a slave girl that belonged to Achilles. Achilles had a volatile temper and demanded the return of the girl, or he would no longer take part in the war. There was such a disturbance among the Acheans that in the end, Achilles indeed decided to leave the fight. He would sail home with his men. Other leaders agreed with him and also sought to leave Troy and return to their homes.

But before Achilles could leave tragedy struck. His close friend Patroclus, taking Achilles' armor and wearing it, entered a battle in which Hector prevailed. At Patroclus' death, Achilles' anger was almost unimaginable, and he swore vengeance. In the next battle, Achilles deliberately sought out Hector, fighting with such strength and ferocity that Hector fell. My poor Sylvia was inconsolable and threw herself from the high walls of Troy when she saw his body being hacked apart. Achilles' own men had to pull him from Hector's body to stop the desecration.

Polyxena went to Achilles to beg the return of her brother's body so that burial rites could be performed for Hector. At the sight of gentle Polyxena, Achilles' anger left him, and he was saddened. He told her that he was tired, he had lost so many close friends through the years of war, and he wanted it to end. He asked her if she would consider forgiving him and uniting so that the fighting would stop. She answered with a yes. To Menelaus' dismay, the other leaders agreed with Achilles. The siege had ended!

At their marriage ceremony in the audience hall, disaster struck in the form of a bizarre accident. It was well known that Paris was still angry over Hector's death and not pleased by the marriage, but we attended the ceremony with graciousness. However, there was an argument amongst some men. I was not close enough to hear, but shortly the clash of steel could be heard and shouts of betrayal!

In the ensuing chaos, an arrow was shot that landed in Achilles' heel. It was the very arrow with which I had killed the demon! Strangely, black wisps of smoke wafted from his wound, but I would have sworn he was no demon. It must be the mixture of his blood with whatever remained of the demon that caused the smoke. Those around Achilles marveled in fear and moved back. As Achilles turned to remove the arrow, Paris struck him a fatal blow.

History remembers Paris as a coward for his act of striking Achilles when his back was turned. In fact, history has Paris shooting the arrow. One thing about any battle whether it is with two people or a thousand, there is always confusion. Do you stop swinging your blade if your opponent looks away for a moment? No one does. I do not think that Paris was a coward or that he unfairly took advantage of Achilles, it was the heat of battle. But what I remember does not matter for history has spoken.

An immense battle ensued as the Achaeans were pushed out of the city and once again Troy was under siege. But it did not last long this time. Without Achilles, his men decided to leave the fight, with others agreeing. We woke up one morning, and they were simply gone. But they had left a wooden horse behind as a gift. In our celebration at the ending of the war and departure of our enemies, the horse was dragged inside the walls and left unattended.

The stories about the Trojan War and the building of the Trojan Horse were exaggerated. The Trojan Horse was not huge and did not house an entire army. But there was a horse. It was black as night and decorated with a silver studded harness and saddle; real horse hair had been used for the mane and tail. Stories not withstanding, it was large enough to hold a single man—its creator Odysseus. It only took one man in the dead of night to open the gate from within to let the entire enemy army sack Troy.

It had taken ten long years before Paris fell to a thirsty sword blade, and when my Paris fell, I knew that Menelaus would not be kind to me. He had repeatedly sent word that if I would leave Troy, I could find sanctuary with him. He would still take Troy, but I would be in a better position. I think it stung his pride that I preferred Paris. I did not survive the war as poets and authors such as Homer would have people believe. I knew that I could not bear Menelaus, so I followed Sylvia from the walls.

When all was said and done, the Trojan War was all about the gold. Troy had found gold—a large amount of it. That was what had made Tyndareus agree to my marriage to Paris in the first place. Menelaus was already rich and powerful but what do the rich and powerful always want? More.

* * * *

The Present

We met up with Sam and Maggie on the connecting flight out of New York to Italy. Once on board the plane for Rome, I felt a rising tension. Sam and Maggie sat together which left me with Diana. Di, as her friends sometimes called her.

"Tell me about yourself. If you don't have any experience, how do you know about them?" I asked her.

"I dream about them. Almost every night I have a different dream. What about you? How did you start?"

"I was attacked first when I was fourteen, and I have killed a demon every year or couple of years since then. The darkness is never ending apparently. It was 1995 and the longest day of the year, my birthday, and there'd been no way I was going to stay at home and miss the Dead Can Dance performance—which is why I'd snuck out. Not that my mum would have even noticed. In fact, I lived on the street after that.

"I'd had a spiked dog collar around my neck, a chain wrapped around my wrist and a big, clunky cross that I'd found cheap at a car boot sale. The cross was about five inches long, and when the tip was pressed and top pulled, it came apart into a small dagger—a small, silver dagger fortunately for me. Wearing torn black jeans, two shredded black t-shirts layered, and black lipstick with my died black hair, I'd been ready to go.

"Meeting up with several other fans at the gig, we'd gone outside for a smoke when the band had taken a break. Standing at the edge of an alley leaning up against the building, I smelled it. As I looked around, no one else seemed to act as if they smelled anything rotten, just me. We'd been drinking, of course, having all the vices, but standing there and breathing in that pungent odor, I knew it was evil and knew it had to be confronted, whatever it was. But as intense as the smell was, the knowledge came just as harshly. Demon!

"I was utterly fearless at first. That is right up until I got a look at the arms ending in long, curved claws that were reaching for me and realized I only had about a three-inch blade.

"After that, scents would bring memories. The memories were like the scents, sometimes harsh and abrupt and complete all at once and sometimes softly clinging and slowly taking shape."

"Do you remember many past lives?" Diana asked.

"Well, I guess it depends on your definition of many. And really sometimes I have to have the smell to be able to recall anything. I know it sounds strange," I added with a smile. "How does your dreaming work? It might be similar."

"Well, mainly I just dream about dying...about being killed. There are times when I wake up and remember the life that went before the dream death, but usually I just remember the death scene."

"You don't remember surviving. You know, actually winning?" I suppose I was fortunate to remember many aspects of my previous lives...the ones I remembered any way.

"Sometimes but mostly it's seeing that if I had done something differently, then I would have survived. And then too, often it's people that kill me and not the demons." Diana didn't look happy about that.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there would be a witness, and the story would get garbled somehow, and the next thing you know, I'm being stoned as a witch," she grimaced at the thought.

"I know all about witches," I said with a sad smile thinking about Salem Town. It had been 1692 and people genuinely believed in witches and demons. It was part of everyday life. The devil tried to tempt you and to harm you. People blamed crop failures and sickness on the devil, demons and witches.

"What do you remember?" Diana asked.

"I was in Salem when some girls started acting bizarrely and finally accused three women of being witches. It escalated from there..."

* * * *

1692 CE

"Helen, have you heard what has happened at the Putnam's house?" Martha Corey asked, coming in quickly out of the bitter cold which caused her old bones to ache. It had been lightly snowing earlier, and now it lay undisturbed without even a hint of a breeze.

"No, I've been stitching sheets for Goodwife Bassett. Have they started yet another congregation? Isn't breaking away from ours enough?" I asked. I knew that it irritated most that the wealthy Putnam's felt they could separate from the town and start their own village congregation. It was seen as prideful—a very great sin.

"Ann Putnum, Betty Parris, and Abigail Williams have made accusations of witchcraft! They've charged Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne, and the Paris' slave Tituba as being witches!" Ann and Abigail were twelve, and Betty was nine. I had heard that recently they have been afflicted with seizures, though not typical epileptic seizures. They had no control over their bodies while their arms flapped about, blurted out strange noises, and complained of feeling as if they were being pinched.

"Witchcraft!" I exclaimed. It was a capital offense, an extremely serious charge. Cotton Mather, a minister in Boston, had told of the symptoms of being attacked by a witch in his Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcrafts and Possessions that he had written just three years ago in 1689. During the winter months, we often got together in a women's circle to read and discuss while we worked on our mending. Tituba's stories, in particular of fortune telling and having the ability to sway men's minds, we found enchanting.

"Oh, please, if Sarah Good was a witch would she not have more?" I asked. Sarah Good would go from house to house begging for food and shelter. She was a burden on the community true, but I strongly doubted witchcraft.

"I cannot imagine. Sarah Osborne has been trying to gain control of her son's inheritance, and if she were a witch, I would think she would be successful. Putnam did not like her marrying that indentured servant," Martha said.

And yet the women went before the magistrate on the complaint of witchcraft. After several days of interrogation, they were jailed. Martha was a strong voice of disapproval and questionioned the girls' credibility. Not surprisingly a short time later, Martha was accused of witchcraft herself.

That should have been the clue to wake the community to what was actually happening, but instead, mass hysteria seemed to descend upon them. I went to visit Martha in jail in late April only to discover that her husband Giles Corey had also been arrested.

"Martha, I've brought you some fresh bread," I handed it to her through the bars knowing that she would later share it out amonst the others she shared the cell with.

"Thank you, Helen. Did you hear that Abigail Hobbs and Mary Warren confessed?" I shook my head in astonishment. She continued, "They have accused additional people."

"I cannot believe this. Has the world gone mad? Can no one see that we could not possibly be living in a community so full of witches?" At this point, almost sixty-two people had been jailed for witchcraft, just based on accusations, no physical evidence at all.

"Giles has refused to enter a plea," she whispered to me. That cannot be good, I thought. The magistrate would require a confession or a plea of not guilty.

"What are they going to do?" I asked her.

"I heard that they would force him," she said with a tear beginning at the edge of her eye. I wished I could take her in my arms and offer comfort for we both knew what that meant. On September 22nd, I watched my innocent friend hang.

I watched later that week as Giles Corey was laid out to be pressed. They piled stone after stone on top of him, letting the weight bear down to crush him slowly. His torturous death took two days, and when it was over, he still had not said 'guilty' or 'not guilty.'

The final horror for the poor accused and condemned was that they were excommunicated, and none could be given a proper burial. Although, at night families would often reclaim the bodies of their kin and bury them in unmarked graves on family property.

* * * *

The Present

"The ones accused were basically outsiders, at least at first. You know, ones who did not attend church or grew herbs to help the sick. But then it seemed to escalate, and family feuds became a part of the accusations. Eventually over a hundred people were accused and jailed for witchcraft without a shred of physical proof," I said. "Ultimately, I think nineteen people were hanged, and one pressed to death." Diana looked a little sick at that, and I wondered why.

"Well, for me, it was usually someone who saw me either kill a demon or try to," she added. "What's the best way? That you've found to kill them, I mean?" Diana wanted to know.

"That would be any way in which they are dead, and you are left alive."

The flight was uneventful and gave me time to think. I had been alone for most of my life, in fact, since that night when I was fourteen. My father had left long before, and my mother was more concerned with the bottle anyway. So it just seemed natural for me to move on. Seeing Diana with her friends gave me another little prick of envy and I sighed. I had no friends to speak of. After all, who would have believed what I did?

So I traveled, finding demons once every year or so and successfully killing them, and earned a living as a waitress as I moved around. I always went back to London though. There had been an ex-detective inspector of Italian descent who'd looked after me some when I was a teen living on the street. He was gone now, so I don't know what the draw was. When I hit twenty-one, I went by the old place just to see my mum, curious if she had drank herself to death or not, I suppose. Instead, my disappearance at such a young age had had a sobering effect on her, and she had turned her life around.

While seeking help to stop drinking, she had met a wealthy man, fallen in love, and gotten married. They welcomed me like the prodigal that I was, and at least I never had to work again. My stepfather was a kind and gentle man who loved me as a long lost daughter. But still I was alone. I couldn't very well tell them about demons, so I just told them that traveling meant everything to me. I visit their house for an extended stay about twice a year now, and it's nice, but I never feel that I truly belong.

I had been in London when the desire to go to New York City first entered my mind. Upon arriving, I had just walked for several days with the notion that I was there for a particular demon. So I searched, but nothing seemed to satisfy me. I kept wandering around and eventually made my way to the Prospect Park Zoo.

Walking through the park, I got to an edge where Third Street was visible, and I had to walk down it. It was an attractive street and the houses had to be worth many millions considering how challenging finding space was in the New York City area. I finally stopped before one and just stood there looking at it. It was an exceptionally large brownstone. It looked almost double the size of most of the others on the street, and it was immaculate.

Does a demon live there? I wondered. It was at that point that a man opened the door and walked out. He was attractive—nothing really spectacular, but attractive with broad shoulders and friendly eyes. He was dressed for running, and I assumed he was headed to the park, but when he saw me he stopped, already half way down the front steps before looking about. I've seen that same stunned expression on many men's faces when they first look at me, but this time I felt a little thrill of pleasure that he found me pleasing to look at.

"Were you coming in?" he asked in surprise.

"I'm not sure," I replied. We just looked at each other for a long moment of silence until I looked down with a smile of embarrassment. "I just wanted to see the house."

"Did Diana send you?" He continued to the bottom of the stairs, and I found myself looking up at him. Nice, he's taller. I stood five-foot ten in my socks, so it was gratifying to look up occasionally.

"No, I don't know a Diana. I just...felt like I needed to be here."

"Like a compulsion?"

"Yes."

"Are you a warrior then?" he wanted to know, and I gave a big sigh and smiled.

"Yes! You are too then?" I asked him.

"Yes, why don't you come in?" And he led me up the stairs and into the house...a house that felt like a home the minute I stepped through the door.

"My name's Jarret," he said and then called out, "Third!"

"I'm Helen," I said as a young man approached from the back of the house.

"Yes?" he asked looking down at me—another tall man. They grow them big in America.

"This is Helen, and she needs a room. Has Jarvis gotten back from his doctor's appointment?"

"No, I'll let you know what the results are as soon as he gets in," he said to Jarret and then looking at me asked, "What color would you prefer?" He saw my hesitation as I wasn't sure what he meant, so he said, "We've got the Red Room, the Ecru Room, and the White Room available."

"I really like white," I said and the next thing I knew I had moved into the White Room with its light blue, almost white, carpet and diaphanous white hangings on the dark canopy bed. I never wanted to leave. But, of course, I couldn't just lounge in my room. I was looking forward to getting to know Jarret. This was the first time I could think of that I had met another warrior, and I looked forward to being able to be just myself. No pretending to be normal.

That evening when I walked into the dining room, we were the only ones there.

"Where are Jarvis and Third?" I asked.

"Jarvis retires early these days. His bones ache even in the heat of summer he says. Third had a date with a young girl named Mary. He doesn't go out often, and as he'd already made plans, I didn't see any need to make him stay just to wait on us."

"No certainly not. We can fend for ourselves," I said looking around at the long, empty table. The dining room was a large rectangle with dark wood paneling on the walls and wooden beams criss-crossing on the ceiling. The lighting was muted with wall sconces and two crystal chandeliers overhead. The table itself was an oblong with two pedestals and would probably seat twelve comfortably.

He grinned at me and suggested, "Why don't we go in the kitchen and see what we can scrounge?"

"Sounds good to me." I was adept at scrounging because I was usually alone. We entered the kitchen through a swinging door at the far end of the dinning room. It had been completely renovated with what looked like restaurant quality appliances in a stainless steel finish. Jarret pointed me towards an island counter with high back stools, and then he opened the refrigerator.

After looking inside for a moment, he turned and asked, "You like peanut butter sandwiches?" I burst out laughing, and he joined in.

"That'd be great," I said. "Do you have crisps I hope?" He looked puzzled for a moment and then went to the walk-in pantry and came out holding a bag of Ruffles in triumph.

"So tell me about yourself," he said when we finally sat down to our feast. I tried to give him the abbreviated version as he poured cold milk, but he stopped me.

"You've been killing demons since you were fourteen?" I nodded a yes. "So, how many have you actually killed?"

"I'd say about fifteen."

"What?! Are you kidding me?" I shook my head no. "Man!"

"I didn't kill them all at once you know," I said. "I've only ever faced one at a time. How about you?"

"I've only killed one." He looked kind of sheepish as he explained. "I didn't know anything about demons until running into Diana and haven't met any since. I haven't remembered anything, smelled anything, nothing. Do you remember any previous lives where you didn't know about demons?"

I shook my head thoughtfully and shrugged. "No, I don't now that you mention it."

"Well, Diana seems to think that we have certain lives where we get a break, you know, don't have to fight." So he filled me in on meeting Diana and the Light House. Finally adding, "Why do you suppose you felt a compulsion to come here?"

"I'm not sure. I usually only feel it when it's time to fight," I told him, which made us both wonder what was coming. "But it doesn't seem to be the case here."

We finished eating and walked down the hall to the library. He said it was his favorite hangout. On a hall table at the entrance to the library was a stack of mail. The top one was addressed to: Mr. Paris Jarret Cunningham. My heart seemed to stop beating.

"Jarret, your first name is Paris?" I asked him incredulously.

"Yep. Can you imagine being stuck with that one as a kid? I was beat up on a regular basis until I convinced my parents that I was going by my middle name." He walked on into the library, and I followed gladly.

The next day David had shown up on the doorstep and two days later, Solomon. That's when Jarret began thinking that Diana would show up as well. He'd been right.

##### 

## 7 Rome

When we arrived in Rome, we grabbed a cab to the Santa Maria hotel, which was a short distance away from the Vatican. Our suite ended up containing one room for Maggie and me to share, one room for Helen, and a spacious sitting room in between. It had an arched wooden-beam ceiling allowing space for a second level loft set up with a single bed perfect for Sam. The suite was on the second floor overlooking a courtyard and garden area full of flowers, orange trees, and cement benches for sitting to enjoy the quiet, cool breezes. After settling in, I called Paul Soratino to set up a time to meet with him the next day.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bishop Soratino, this is Diana. I'm in Rome. When do you think we could meet?"

"Ahh, Diana, it's so good to hear from you again. How about tomorrow at ten?"

"That'd be great."

"Did you come alone?" he wanted to know.

"Like I said before, I don't know what else to tell you," I said. Being a horrible liar, I evaded a direct answer.

"Well, I just thought I'd check," he sounded genuinely disappointed.

"So I'll see you tomorrow. Bye," I said and hung up.

Helen retired to her room for a nap but still wired with energy after the flight, the rest of us decided to walk around to see some of the city. Rome was the capital of Italy and its largest and most historical city spanning roughly two and a half thousand years of time. Founded in myth by twin brothers Romulus and Remus who as infants were raised by a wolf. While building the city, the brothers argued, and Romulus killed Remus. I felt a sense of déjà vu in Rome, even though it didn't look anything like what I remembered from my dreams...

* * * *

27 BCE

Barely visible in the far distance, Mount Vesuvius squatted threateningly, but it would be another 107 years before it would violently erupt. Unaware of that fact, I shivered and turned my back to it, looking instead into the dark cave entrance. There was a clammy feel in the air around my bare arms. A white cotton dress draping over my shoulder was tightened around my waist with a wide leather belt. Sandals cushioned my feet with long leather ties winding up my calves. A gold snake armlet tightened about my bicep when my arm flexed as I shifted my grip on the long pole in my hand. It was a type of javelin with a silver spear tip.

There was a reek in the air that was incredible, worse than any dead animal could ever be. Hearing a snuffling sound, a munching crunch and then a sucking, I slowly crept forward. I saw the dim flickering light of a torch ahead of me. Drawing nearer, I could see a woman laying on the cave floor and over her hunched a figure in a tattered black cloak. The cloaked arms surrounded the woman as if they were embracing.

Trying to creep a little closer, my toe struck a pebble that rolled echoingly across the floor. The figure drew back and half turned, clawed hands releasing the woman to the floor. It was Mary I saw despairingly. She looked at me with horror in her eyes and a pleading, with blood and a wispy white substance flowing from wounds near her collarbone on her chest.

I was so frightened but also infuriated. Mary was an innocent and my friend. Leaping forward and taking the javelin in both hands, I rammed it with all my strength into the eye of the creature in the cloak before it could move. Black goo spurted from the wound, and a high keening sound rang through the cave. Inky smoke started to swirl from the feet of the creature. Stepping back and pulling the javelin loose, I rammed it into the demon's chest with all my might and released it as the demon began thrashing about. When the demon burst into a cloud of smoke, the javelin clattered to the black stained cave floor. I knelt by Mary, but there was no hope. I had been too late to save her.

Leaving the cave, even with night approaching, I saw him on the hillside beneath the lone tree. A soldier of the new Roman Empire with Augustus now as Emperor, he stood as if he were a god save for the sorrowful expression on his handsome face.

"Ahh, Diana, no," he shook his head. "You are the one. I wasn't sure until now." At his words, my heart seemed to freeze. I could hear the metal studded leather straps attached along the bottom edge of his armor slap against his thighs as he moved forward.

"That thing just killed Mary. Should I have let it live uncontested?" I challenged, raising my chin high.

"I care not about that creature. What concerns me, Diana, is the fact that you have a debt to pay to me."

"What debt could I possibly owe to you?"

"Years ago, my friend, he who was as a brother to me, died so that you and I could be together. I promised you then that you would suffer for that death when you stabbed me in the back."

"Alexander?" I whispered, not able to gain any volume sick as I was at Mary's death and now this. What was going to happen? But I knew. I cleared my throat. "You don't have to do this. I've watched you, and I know that you don't kill others for their souls now."

"I killed for you, Diana. I took a soul for you. And you still have to pay," he said coldly.

I held the javelin grimly in both hands as he came towards me slashing his sword back and forth. The javelin gave me reach, but I was not experienced with its use. In the cave winning happened because of surprise, not through any particular skill of mine. Alexander was an accomplished soldier, a military leader through the ages. There was no way that I would win, but I had to make the attempt.

Hoping to at least get a decent stab in, I unexpectedly ran towards him. He easily parried the javelin tip away from his body with the sword and then grabbed my arm, twisting it cruelly until it almost snapped. Screaming and with tears starting in my eyes, I released the javelin to him, and he threw it from us.

Gasping I fell to my knees when he released me, cradling my arm against my body with my head bent. He placed his hand upon my head, and for a moment it seemed he was stroking my hair in apology. But then his fingers entwined in it, yanking my head back, stretching my neck painfully. This is it, I thought. He was close, and surprisingly I realized he too was kneeling. Pressing his body to mine, it felt as if he were bringing me closer, holding me. His other hand he brought up to stroke my face and wipe away the tears with a gentle thumb. He looked at me as if memorizing my face, like he never wanted to forget what I looked like.

As we knelt together, the tension seemed to leave him, and an indefinable look entered his eyes. He released the pressure on my neck somewhat and slowly lowered his face towards mine. His face just an inch away, he paused to study my reaction, and I waited, expectantly. Then his lips touched mine in a tender kiss—a kiss filled with sweetness, longing. His hand became gentle on my back, and I forgot everything, as desire seemed to consume me. There was no pain from my arm. I did not know that I was kneeling with him outside the cave in which a demon had just been killed. Recalling nothing, I only felt. And what I felt was that I wanted him to kiss me forever.

But it was not to last. When he finally lifted his lips from mine, he looked at me in silence for a moment.

"You kissed me," he said finally.

"Yes." He had to be able to feel my heart, still racing, pressed against his chest.

"Why?"

"It did not feel like a punishment," I said simply.

"No," he said uncertainly, still stroking my face absentmindedly with his hand. "It wasn't a punishment for you, but you must be punished." He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself that he had to do it, but it was clear that he was conflicted.

"You do not have to punish me. Can we not go forward from here instead?" I asked him. He looked into my eyes again and then his eyes strayed lower to my lips. Slowly he bent to kiss me once more. It was the most wonderful sensation, his lips moving almost lovingly on mine. When he raised his head again, I sighed and slowly opened my eyes. I saw the beginning of fear creep into his expression. Fear of what I was not sure, but he was quickly coming to a decision. He jerked away from me and swiftly stood.

"No we do not go forward. I stand by my promises, and I swore that you would suffer," he fairly spat at me, his jaw clenched. I saw him raise his sword to bring it down and knew no more.

* * * *

The Present

Well, Roman soldiers aside, Rome was lovely and vibrant with people everywhere. It was so crowded that Sam, Maggie, and I were pushed down a side street we weren't even aiming for. We didn't mind because we were looking in all the shop windows. It was there in that side street that I saw a symbol of a burning candle in the bottom corner of a window. It had the words 'We Welcome the Light' arced above it. The merchandise in the window consisted mainly of jewelry, but there were knickknacks, knives and other things also. Something about that lit candle drew me, so we went into the shop.

A young man was working on a watch at the counter near the front of the store when we entered. He glanced up and smiled at us but didn't stop working. We wandered between the tall shelves each taking a different isle and eventually ended by the back wall near an open curtained doorway. Sitting in an overstuffed chair was an old, withered man who looked asleep. At least I hoped he was asleep and not dead, not actually seeing his chest move. We stopped by a rack of knives and daggers near the doorway.

"Maybe you should get a dagger that will fit down in your boot," Sam suggested as he picked one up and examined it.

"It has to be silver to kill a demon," I reminded him as the one he held had a bronze shade. Unbelievably, the old man in the chair had heard us and looked at me sharply. I thought all old people were deaf.

"Young lady, are you a warrior?" At his question, I nodded in surprise, and he waved for us to enter.

"It's been many years since I met any others," he said happily.

"Others?" Sam asked. The old guy looked at the three of us speculatively.

"Surely all three of you aren't warriors," he said. "I've never known so many to come together at one time."

"Umm, no, it's just me," I smiled shyly at him. All this was so new, never realizing that my dreams were true...that I had actually lived over and over, fighting and dying so that the Light would continue. Would I die this time? I rather hoped not.

He grinned a toothless smile and gestured for us to gather around him. "If you are here to fight, I have some excellent weapons for you. I personally devised many of them to use in my own struggles. During WWII, I was a weapons specialist. It was then that I put together an especially nice grenade that will discharge silver shrapnel. I don't have any made up right now, but if you will come back tomorrow, I will have my grandson, Antonio, put some weapons together tonight in a pack for you."

"Wow, grenades!" Sam exclaimed with a whoop. "That would be totally awesome!"

The old guy cackled, delighted with his impression on us. "I have several useful silver weapons on hand." He launched into an involved story about being surrounded by Germans during a battle. He used what he termed "mini" grenades as a distraction, finally finishing the entire battalion off single-handedly. It was a little difficult to follow between his accent and lack of teeth. His heroic, often outlandish actions, sounded much larger than life, but we thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment. As he wound down, we could tell he was getting tired. Finally, "Come back tomorrow afternoon," he encouraged. We told him we would see him then.

Before leaving we said hello to Antonio. He seemed surprised his grandfather had spoken to us for so long until he realized we wanted to fight demons. He said we wasn't a warrior but wished us luck. I found a dagger that fit inside my boot perfectly so went ahead and got that as we left the shop. Maggie found a silver cross that appealed to her, and Sam got a pocketknife. Then we went back to the hotel to rest before dinner.

Helen greeted us with the news that the guys had called and would see us the next morning before I left to go to the Vatican. We found a menu and ordered in, and as we were all pretty beat from the trip, we went to bed early...not that it did me any good.

* * * *

116 CE

I knelt in a secluded, narrow valley with starlight shining down and a crescent moon hanging just above the trees. Mist rose from a small lake forming a haze within the surrounding wood and narrowing visibility on the road. My companion shifted, and I realized we had been waiting, hidden near the road, for some time. When would they pass?

Daniel had overheard the demon, Asmodeus, earlier that day. He had, in fact, walked into the demon by accident, simply rounding a corner at the wrong time. He had told me that if he had not been that close, he would not have realized that Asmodeus was a demon because he smelled of a spicy, cinnamon odor that nearly masked the demon stink. Apologizing profusely, Daniel had moved on and then double backed to discreetly follow. He led Daniel to a shack located near the docks where the entire area smelled of rotting fish. It was difficult to determine whether any other demons were nearby...but they were.

Daniel had approached the back of the building and crawled onto a barrel under a shuttered window opening to listen to the demons. Several demons were in the house and clearly identified Asmodeus by name as the leader. They plotted to overtake a trading caravan not just for the souls but also for the goods. Asmodeus apparently grew tired of caves and out of the way hovels, and planned to start living well. He had discovered the scent of cinnamon would help to mask his odor and intended to set up a large house somewhere in Rome. After hearing that, Daniel had come to find me.

Our plan was simple. We waited on the roadway leading from Ostia to Rome. It was the route the demons would take to meet up with the caravan. I waited with my bow and Daniel with his sword. Only...no demons appeared.

"Now what?" I asked in a whisper. "Do we continue to wait or should we move further down the road?"

He shook his head uncertainly and finally said, "Perhaps I misunderstood the night. Maybe we should go to the docks and see if they are still there." I nodded agreement, and we started jogging down the road back toward Ostia. Situated at the mouth of the Tiber River, Ostia contained the busy harbor for goods that would head to Rome either up river or by road. Roman roads, which connected many of the cities, were the finest in the world, and this one was no exception being broad and paved with flat stones. During the day it was filled with travelers as they passed between Ostia and Rome. This night, it was deserted.

As we rounded a bend in the road, demon stink nearly overwhelmed us. Before we knew it, we were under attack! A small, vicious creature latched onto my forearm when I brought it up in front of me to ward it off. I dropped the bow I was carrying and taking the arrow, I jabbed it into its eye. Screaming in pain, the creature released my arm, and I was free to draw my dagger.

Daniel was pinned under a great wolf demon barely holding its teeth at bay. I leaped onto its back and drove my dagger into its side. It bucked and reeled backward finally crashing onto its back with me still clutching it with my arms and legs, holding the dagger into the creature.

We were at last alone on the road again, the demons gone. Daniel removed his leather belt and wrapped my forearm, stemming the flow of blood.

"What do you think?" he asked me.

"I think we were ambushed." The feeling of anger pulsated throughout my body. "They were waiting. Could this Asmodeus have seen you following him?"

Daniel shook his head. "I cannot be certain. He did not act as if he knew I followed."

"There can be no other explanation though. There is no caravan in this area and these two were obviously waiting for someone...for us." He nodded in agreement as we made our way back toward Ostia.

* * * *

The Present

The next day dawned with a spectacular sunrise. The sun's rays sprayed across a thin film of clouds giving them a perfect blush. I was early, not only because of the time difference, but because I was anxious to have my meetings over later that morning. David was going to take the tour of the Vatican while I was meeting Bishop Soratino. If he had to pretend to get 'lost' so that he could stay as close to me as possible, he would.

Vatican City was a walled enclave within the city of Rome that took up about 110 acres and had a population of approximately 800. It had been established back in 1929 via a treaty signed by Mussolini and contained the Holy See, which stood for "holy chair." The Holy See formed the central government for the entire Roman Catholic Church with the Pope as its principal leader. While walking across a courtyard, the tour group that included David shuffled past. He was looking down at a pamphlet in his hands and was the very last person in the group line-up. I saw his eyes flick towards me as I walked by.

I was thoroughly awed upon being ushered into Bishop Paul Soratino's office. Everything seemed to be crystal or gilt edged and sumptuous. The Church used to be the largest and wealthiest employer in the world, acquiring many luxurious items over the centuries—some of which looked as if they'd found their way into his office.

"Welcome, welcome. Please come in and sit down," he spoke with a slight accent, not quite Italian, but I couldn't place it. He came forward to sit down in a chair and gestured at another for me. "How was your flight?"

"Fine, thank you. Since I got in last night, the jet lag isn't so bad now."

"Excellent. Well, you are a young one, aren't you?" he asked with a slight frown on his round face as he looked at me. His hair was entirely white, and as in his video, he wore a long black cassock. It had a belt that after encircling him, hung towards the floor reaching to his knees with a cross swinging from the end.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling an apology was necessary. I felt embarrassed to be so young and, his voice implied, so inexperienced—all too true unfortunately.

"And the others? They are here too?" he asked.

"What others?" I asked, knowing he hoped I would say that more warriors had arrived with me.

"Then there's just you?"

"Didn't you hear from anyone else?" I asked instead of answering outright.

"No, just you."

"Well, I just happened to recognize you. Maybe you should redo your video and include how to contact you." I didn't mean to criticize, but if he'd at least said his name, he might have gotten more of a response.

"I did not want, how do you say, crackpots contacting me," he said with a smile. "I only wanted true warriors."

"Ah, so there's a demon," I said hesitantly after a short pause.

"More than just one, my dear. As I said when we first spoke, there is a reporter here in Rome that has been researching crimes in the areas of the various catacombs, and from what he has revealed, it is apparent that it is the work of demons. For so many people to have died, well over 30 according to Mr. Black's estimates, it can only be the work of many demons, not just one—an infestation."

"Well, do you have any maps of the catacombs?" I asked hopefully, ticking off one question from the list Sol had made me memorize.

"I am sure there are some with our records. I shall send you down with my assistant, Graves, shortly. What else besides maps do you think you will need?"

"I don't suppose you have any weapons do you?" Again asked hopefully...item number two.

"No, I am so very sorry. I won't be able to help you with that." He shook his head and laced his fingers across his round belly.

"I think just the maps would do then and maybe the reporter's address so that I can talk to him too," I said, finishing with item number three on my mental list.

"Certainly. Graves can also get you the reporter's information. When do you think you will be going to the catacombs?" he asked me. Was it me or was it strange that he seemed to have no problem with a seventeen-year-old girl going off to deep, dark tunnels looking for apparently many evil demons that would most probably kill her? Had he not considered having some priests go into the catacombs? I know there used to be warriors for the Vatican, maybe the Knights Templar possibly could go check the situation out. But no. Here I am instead. Okay.

"It will take me a couple of days to prepare and find weapons, so I think the earliest would be Friday." Friday was three days away and was item number four on my list—lay a smoke screen for the bishop. This would give us time to prepare, but we would really be going in earlier. Sol didn't want anyone, even a bishop, knowing our exact plan of attack. Such suspicion.

We got up, and he escorted me to the door where he raised his voice slightly and called for his assistant. Standing next to him waiting, I noticed that he wore Calvin Klein's Obsession for Men. It was my favorite. I'd gotten some for my dad last Christmas. It was odd for a bishop to wear cologne, wasn't it? Weren't they supposed to be above that kind of thing...all about God and faith, not worldly matters?

Graves reflected his name in that he was a serious young man. Not smiling but with a kind expression, he sedately escorted me to the archives. There he dredged up old hand drawn maps of the Domitilla Catacombs specifically showing the layout of the corridors and rooms of the dead. They had a copier available, but I only made one copy so as not to make anyone suspicious that others were with me—007 had nothing on me. With the maps in hand, Graves then gave me Mr. Black's address and pointed me in the right direction.

As I came up out of the archives, I saw David in the reception area. He was asking for a bathroom and giving them a bunch of trouble trying to translate his desire by making up absurd words and phrases. The one I came in on was 'casa de peepee.' I almost choked on laughter, quickly turning it into a cough. Maintaining the cover, I simply left and went to our agreed meeting place to wait for him. He didn't take long.

"Well?" he wanted to know as soon as he came up to me.

"I have maps," I said handing them to him. "He also gave me the address of the reporter who broke the catacomb killings story."

"Okay, I'll take this back to Sol if you feel all right to go see the reporter on your own. I doubt there's anything wrong with him."

"Sure, no problem. His office isn't very far from here. I'll just do the whole journalism student thing. I'll see you back at the hotel later." I tried to look confident, but my insides were still kind of shaking from being in the Vatican on my own. I suppose I had all the brazen confidence of most teenagers, but I was in a foreign country—to hunt demons. I wondered if I would make it to my eighteenth birthday just a few short weeks away.+

##### 

## 8 The Reporter

After leaving David, I went straight to the reporter's office, still a little nervous having to go meet yet another complete stranger by myself and pretend to be something I wasn't. The others thought the journalism student idea was great and had thought that I would be the least suspicious looking because I was the youngest of the warriors. Our hope was that he would give me the details on how he had connected the information on the various cases. To add to my nervousness, I only knew the address and had forgotten whom I was actually meeting.

To try to appear as an innocuous teenager that day, I wore my sketchers, some low-rise khaki knee pants, and a T-shirt that had a cat wearing huge, pink sunglasses on it with SUPER COOL printed below. Hopefully, I looked like any other tourist wandering through Rome.

I exited the elevator into a short hallway lined with doors, one of which was open. On a visible corner of a desk, there was a mound of papers that looked as if they were about to topple off. Approaching the door, I saw his profile. Short, coal black hair was spiked just a bit as if he frequently ran his fingers through it in frustration. He had a tanned complexion and a straight nose over a firm mouth. Insanely gorgeous in an older Johnny Depp kind of way, I thought...not the Pirates of the Caribbean Depp but the Sleepy Hollow Depp. His dark brown eyes were mildly curious as he looked up to see me in his doorway.

My heart paused for the barest second, sputtered and then started racing. I didn't think I was going to be able to breathe. I quickly looked away and saw his placard: Alex Black. Oh. My. God. I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes. I knew that I couldn't let him know who I was. Why was fate so cruel as to throw him at me so unexpectedly like this? Why hadn't I thought that if my dreams were indeed real—my real past lives—that he would also be real? He'd killed me how many times?

"Yes?" his deep velvet voice sent quivers down my spine. I realized I was holding my breath and let it out explosively as I opened my eyes. He hadn't changed into another person. So much for wishing.

"Hi," good grief my voice actually squeaked, get a grip. I cleared my throat, "Hi, I was wondering if you were the reporter who wrote the articles about the catacomb killings?" I couldn't believe I got all that out and actually sounded somewhat sensible.

"Yes, I am," he seemed surprised.

"My name's..." oh my God, I couldn't give him my real name. So I quickly decided on my middle name as a good cover. "Grace. I'm here with my journalism class touring Italy."

"That's wonderful. Such a terrific opportunity for you. You're from the States?"

"Yes. And my teacher gave us an assignment. We each have to find a really meaty story while we're over here and try to interview the journalist," I paused expectantly and tried to smile at him even though my lips felt frozen.

"You were hoping to interview me, I take it?" he asked with a smile.

"Well your story was really great, and I'd love to hear how you uncovered all of the background information. How did you piece it all together? Did you go to any of the crime scenes? Have you been in the catacombs? Which of the catacombs do you suspect of being the most dangerous? Are they dangerous? When did you first suspect that the murders were tied together? How did you come to that conclusion? I mean, from what I understand, it seems like they appear pretty random."

He started laughing and held up his hands defensively, "Whoa, whoa young lady. One question at a time." When his hands first came up, I swear I saw a shadowy image of a crossbow and my knees shook.

He looked down at his desk and heaved a sigh, "Okay, first, I'm hungry. Why don't you walk with me to the corner where there's a restaurant where we can sit in the sun to discuss all the darkness?" He stood and came around his desk towards me, and I backed into the hall hurriedly. I didn't want to have anything to do with him—didn't want to sit, to eat—nothing! But this was why I had come, and I couldn't believe it might be this easy. Nothing is this easy, I thought. What if he recognized me? How would I die this time?

As we headed to the elevator, from the corner of my eye, I could see him looking at me. I wasn't quite brave enough to look at him full on. The confusion of my emotions was unbelievable. I was torn, wanting to run away as fast as possible and wanting to throw myself into his arms, confessing all. There had been a split second of pure joy at seeing him, followed by the desire to let him to know who I was. Of course, that would mean he might kill me again. What was he doing here? Why was he exposing murders? What was really going on?

Get a grip, Diana, I thought, almost in a complete state of panic. He doesn't know who you are. There's no way he can find out unless you tell him who you are. So there's nothing to worry about. I took a huge settling breath.

As we got on the elevator and headed down, he asked, "How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen. My birthday is in June though, so I'll be eighteen soon." I sounded normal there.

"June? Not the summer solstice by any chance?" he asked. What an odd question, I thought, though it was Helen's birthday, too.

"Well, yes, it's June twenty-first."

" Hmmm. Where are your classmates?"

"This is our time to explore on our own. I've saved my story for our last stop, so I have to finish within the next few days." I inhaled deeply through my nose while we were on the elevator. He smelled wonderfully. He was also wearing my favorite men's cologne. That was just too weird. Twice in one day. Calvin Klein's Obsession for Men must be really popular in Italy.

He cleared his throat, and I realized that I was wavering, starting to lean towards him. Fortunately the elevator doors opened, and he ushered me out. So far, so good. He hadn't killed me yet.

We went to the corner café and sat at a bistro table outside in the sun and ordered, what else—pasta. I had a hard time looking at him, so I felt safe looking at the table and the surrounding sidewalk. To get my attention after missing what he must have said, he reached over and touched my wrist. It felt as if a jolt of electricity flashed from the point of his fingertips through my arm causing me to nearly jump out of my chair.

"I'm sorry," he said laughingly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. I was looking around and wasn't really listening to you, even though I should have been listening to you because that's why I'm here, to listen to you..." and the babbling finally petered out. I was flustered, and if it was possible, it felt like my entire body was blushing! He must think me a complete moron.

"So tell me again, you're a journalism student?" He was looking at me speculatively now. I truly wished I could read minds. In some mysterious way did he now know? I mean, am I always an idiot around him?

"Yes," I answered quickly. "So, how did you get into journalism?" Sound mature, I told myself.

"I enjoy reading and telling stories. Plus I felt that I had something to share with the world." It was his turn to study the table.

"So tell me about this case."

"I was researching crime statistics in Rome covering the past few years. I noticed there were many unsolved crimes that all happened about the same time in the evenings. They seemed to use the same type of weapons, and there was a general lack of knowledge about the crimes. To me there was a definite pattern, and it made me curious. So I started looking more closely."

"So curiosity was you're driving force?"

"Yes, I am a very curious man." There was a probing look in his eyes as he answered me. I had the sneaky suspicion that I was the new curiosity. Great.

We stayed at the café for about an hour while he told me various details of the cases and how he'd connected them. We had finished eating and were wrapping up the conversation when those two foes, bad luck and ill timing, struck—Sam saw me from across the street.

"Hey, Diana!" he exclaimed as he ran up. "Maggie and I got concert tickets for M-Cube, an Italian rock band, for tonight!" He stopped when he noticed Alex and added, "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's all right. We were just finishing up," Alex said. He looked at Sam speculatively. "This is your boyfriend?" he asked me.

"No, Sam's just a friend. He and my other friend Maggie are the ones dating," I added irrelevantly but somehow feeling that I needed to clear that up. "Well, we have to go. It was very nice meeting you, and I really appreciate all of your help with my story." I grabbed Sam's arm, and we threaded our way through the tables away from Alex. I glanced back when we were about to turn the corner, and he was looking after us intently.

"I think you just told him who I am, Sam," I said, a feeling of desperation settling in my stomach.

"What do you mean?" he asked bewildered.

"I told him my name was Grace, and you said 'Diana' when you came up."

"Why would you tell him a different name?"

"Sam, that was Alexander Black. My arch enemy! My nemesis!"

"No way!"

"Yes, and you just told him that not only am I alive, but I'm in Rome with him. He is probably working out how to kill me right now! He's thinking, what new and painful way can I use to torture Diana this go 'round?" I deepened my voice to imitate his.

"I think you're over-reacting," he said with a frown on his face. "Surely he wasn't paying that much attention to what I said."

"I don't know, Sam. I just had the weirdest vibe the whole time I was with him. The way he looked at me...like he knew. It's okay. Let's just get back to the hotel. I'll feel better once I'm behind a locked door."

"Does this mean you don't want to go see the band?" he asked plaintively, causing me to laugh at his pitiful expression. I grabbed his hand, and we started jogging, weaving between people on the walkway, and hurrying to the hotel.

When we got back, Maggie got her laptop out, and we started looking up information about the catacombs, also reading all the stories we could find that Alex had written. Soon the others showed up, and we found that David had made more copies of the maps.

We were at my hotel since we'd gotten such a large suite, and it could accommodate all of us for the meeting. He handed everyone copies so that we could carefully study the different layers. Then they wanted to know what had happened at the Vatican and the reporter's office. So I told them everything I had learned.

Well, almost everything. With a warning look at Sam, I left out all mention of a previous relationship with Alex. Thinking that the others would want to track him down to finish him off, I just wasn't up for a fight with Alex this time. I just wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible. Once I was back in America, I didn't believe there was any way for him to be able to find me.

"So that's how Mr. Black says he connected the information and placed the culprits near the Catacombs of Domitilla. When we got back here, we did some research." I waved for Maggie to take over the story. Even though Sam and Maggie weren't going into the catacombs with us, they were included in the meeting. Sam had been arguing that at least he needed to go with me even if he stayed outside just in case I needed some help. But I knew from my dreams that I would be reincarnated. I didn't know about him. So, he would stay behind with Maggie.

"What we found out was that the Catacombs of Domitilla are the oldest, and the only ones still containing bones. There are about nine miles of passages and caves dug into the soft volcanic rock that go down four stories. It is the only one to contain a subterranean basilica as its entrance. Here's the really interesting part. In 2009, at the request of the Vatican, specifically Bishop Soratino, the responsibility for the administration of the Saint Domitilla Catacombs was put in the hands of the Divine Word Missionaries, which is a Roman Catholic Society of priests and Brothers," she finished up, looking around at everyone.

"Do you think it's weird that Bishop Soratino didn't mention the Divine Word Missionaries?" I asked.

"I think it's strange. Perhaps one of us should check it out?" Helen put in questioningly, but Sol was concentrating on the tunnels themselves.

"Nine miles? They could be hiding anywhere in there. We should all study the maps some more and look for the most likely hiding places. Then, we'll split up the levels. I'll take the lowest, Jarret the one right above me, David and Helen the next, and then Diana can take the top level." Sol divvied up the catacombs. I realized that he thought he was giving me the safest area. It was sweet and immensely appreciated! I know that I've killed demons in my dreams, but that was it. Real life was a bit scary. Would I be successful?

"We found a place that will supply you with silver weapons. Diana already got a dagger, and we got a few items from there, too. The old guy running the place was having his grandson put together some packs for us to pick up. He said he had some grenades that spewed silver shrapnel. Really cool. They should be ready later this afternoon. Maggie and I can go get them." Sam volunteered as I was maintaining a low profile outside of the hotel in case Alex was sniffing around. Nothing Sam said could convince me that Alex didn't know it was me. I just knew that he knew.

"No, I'll go," Jarret volunteered. "I'd like to see the place. Meet the old guy and his grandson."

"I'll check out the Divine Word Missionaries to see if they might be involved more deeply than just as caretakers," Helen said.

"I'd like to see the weapons store, too," David said. "You never know what you can find in places like that."

"I'll recon the area around the catacombs," Sol added thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll spot something useful."

With that, they left to go their separate ways, agreeing to meet back at the suite later that evening.

##### 

## 9 Pompeii

"Hey, while they're gone and we have some time, let's go see Pompeii," Maggie suggested as she lounged on the sofa.

"I really don't think we have time," I responded as the hair popped out on my arms in goose bumps.

"Naw, there's time. We can just hop the train and be there in about two hours," Sam put in, looking over a brochure full of tourist information as he stood by the window basking in the early afternoon sun.

"I'm not going to Pompeii," I stated unequivocally as I sat curled in a chair my arms around my knees.

"Oh." Maggie looked across the room at Sam uncertainly. "Okay, we don't have to go. Besides Sam got those tickets to the concert this evening for us. I'd forgotten until just now."

"I'm sorry," I said, knowing I'd been a little too abrupt. "You guys go. I'll just hang here." I could not bring myself to tell them about Pompeii right then and certainly could not bring myself to go there. Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 C.E. when Titus was emperor of Rome, and I would never willingly go close to that mountain again.

* * * *

79 CE

"Diana, where are you?" Magda called to me as she entered the villa.

"Here!" I called from inside an alcove in the main room. I was painting a fresco on the wall. It was of Alexander and me standing together looking out into the room. I came out to greet her with a smile, wiping my hands and brush on a cloth already filthy from days of cleaning paint off brushes and knowing that there must be at least one streak of red down my cheek.

"I brought you wine and dried fruit from the market. All the fresh produce looked too limp to be edible." She placed a basket down on the long stone table located to the right of the main door.

The villa contained two large main hallways—one that ran east and west on the North side of the building and one running north and south at the east end of the North hall forming a ninety-degree angle where they met. The main room branched off to the south from the North hall, and the bedrooms lay further to the east of the East hall.

"Any news from the marketplace today?" I asked, walking to stand near the door to the courtyard. It contained flowers and fruit trees surrounded by cement benches and was formed between the main room over to the East hall. Every room contained large windows with wooden shutters, some that also doubled as the doorways to the exterior. I lifted my face to the breeze that wafted through the long white linen curtains on either side of the opening.

"Well, people are nervous because there seem to be more earthquakes lately. They say the gods are displeased by the Christian God."

"Yes, Mount Vesuvius has become quite tetchy just lately. Rather than gods, he reminds me of old Tellus always grousing about this or that," I said with a smile.

"Speaking of Tellus, since his joints have been aching, I also brought him some wine and fruit. Do you know he pinched my backside as I was trying to leave?!" She asked indignantly.

"I am so happy that I am not the only one!" I laughingly responded.

"Yes, well I am sure I have a great ugly bruise." As she turned to show me her rear, there was a strong earthquake. We stumbled our way out of the room to the courtyard, finally lying on the ground until it was over. Then we lay there waiting to see if there would be an aftershock.

"Diana!" I heard Alexander call to me urgently.

"We are here in the courtyard!" I answered. He rushed out to help and ended by just pulling us both to our feet with a hand on each of our arms and then helping to brush me off while looking for injuries. He chuckled as he reached my face and then gently tried to wipe away the paint. I blushed knowing that I was more than likely a mess, as usual when I painted, and wondered again why he bothered with me. He could have almost any woman. They would stare as he passed by and then turn to each other and giggle, looking back at him to invite with their eyes. Yet he ignored them all, looking only at me.

"I am fine," I reassured him grinning and batting at his hand. "Magda brought wine. I think we should all drink some now." Magda looked like she was still a little shaky. He nodded and escorted us to the table inside with his arm still around me.

"There does not appear to be any damage," he said, and I shook my head looking around as well.

"I thought you were going to Naples?" I asked him.

"I forgot my gift to Titus, the dagger. As I will see him in Rome after leaving Naples, I wish to take it with me." With that he went into our bedroom to fetch it.

"Why is he giving Titus a gift?" Magda asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"He is hoping that Titus will not command him to take charge of another legion. He wants to stay home for a time," I said, happily rubbing my extended belly. Alexander came back into the room carrying the knife and gestured for me to follow him out.

"I will be back as quickly as I can," he said holding me close to his heart, as we stood by his huge horse, Maximus, black except for a single white blaze on his nose.

"No need to worry. Magda is here, and she will take care of me." Even though saying that, I was a little nervous. I had seen forty summers, and it was rare for a woman to survive a pregnancy at that age. In fact, I knew of no one.

We had met two years previously when I was painting a mural depicting a scene of dolphins swimming in the ocean at the home of his good friend Pliny in Naples. Pliny had brought me to Alexander's attention by teasing me. I was working on my birthday—the longest day of the year, and apparently taking the longest time!

He had watched me closely after being introduced as if expecting something. But I'd just smiled at him calmly and politely. Men were not usually interested in me as I usually had splotches of paint across my face, and I could not fathom that he would be either. But after that first meeting, he was never far from my side except when duty to the empire called.

"I feel anxious leaving you so close to your birthing time." He gently stroked down the side of my face while looking at me. "Diana..."

"Yes?" I encouraged when he hesitated.

"With you I have found real happiness for the first time. I know that you do not realize what that truly means, and I do not know if you will remember, but I want you to know that we will go forward as you once suggested."

"I suggested we go forward? To where?" He smiled, shaking his head and kissed me quickly before mounting Maximus.

"Do not worry your head about it. I will be back as quickly as I can, and while I am gone, you are to stay within the house. Magda can fetch anything you need."

"Yes, general," I answered with a grin, raising my arm in a soldier's salute.

Alexander had been gone two days when Mount Vesuvius explosively erupted. There was an initial loud blast accompanied by a quake that threw us to the floor. Magda was in the center of the room, walking through, but I was near the table and painfully slammed into it before hitting the floor.

Only with assistance could I regain my feet. Then we went to the window facing the mountain, looking at the towering cloud that extended up into the sky as far as the eye could see. It seemed as if it could touch the very stars. Magda and I held each other's hands. Backing away in horror from the window, a mighty twisting pain caught me around my abdomen, and I doubled over.

"Oh no," I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

"Come, we need to put a solid wall between us and that," she said while holding me up. I nodded in agreement, and we made our way to the North hall. We sat down on the floor with our backs to the wall still holding each other. Another pain caught at me, and with it a warm wetness spread below me on the floor.

"I am afraid, Magda." I began to sob. As it was not time for the baby, something was terribly wrong—I had at least seven more weeks. Pain lanced through me, taking my breath. I struggled to remain calm.

We heard a rushing roar within minutes after the initial explosion, and Magda started having difficulty breathing as well. I placed my hands over my mouth in an attempt to stop the choking feeling of having no air. Then the heat started. With my head dizzy from lack of oxygen, I was bewildered, not able to imagine burning where there was no fire. The air seemed blazing hot, and as I tried to inhale, my lungs seared with pain.

Then the skin on my arms began to blister. Hangings further down the hall burst into flame and turned into ash almost as quickly...just gone. I slowly rolled sideways down the wall as another twisting pain struck and blood gushed from between my legs. Then there was only the floor as fiery darkness closed in.

* * * *

The Present

In one of my history classes, I had seen plaster casts of the people from Pompeii. They had been buried in ash and pumice as they lay and their positions had been preserved. The entire town had been buried in places up to twenty feet deep and had been forgotten for almost 1700 years. Then in 1749 it was rediscovered and excavations began. One picture depicted what was called the "Garden of the Fugitives" with a row of people lying curled up along a wall.

There was also a picture in my book of a remarkably well-preserved fresco of a couple in one of the villas. I knew the man in the portrait—it was Alexander. He hadn't been smiling but he looked...content. And I knew that I must be the woman. The idea took root that if I went to Pompeii, I might see myself lying next to Magda, our bodies forever preserved in the rictus of death. I could not bear to look at those poor people who'd had no hope of survival.

While Sam and Maggie went out to explore, I stretched out on the sofa, clicked on the TV and settled back for a short, relaxing nap as the news aired.

* * * *

278 BCE

The mountaintop sent smoke lazily up into the air to be witnessed in the distance only by those who happened to glance that way. There had been no noise, no quake, no explosion. The world would not see Mount Vesuvius explode so memorably for another 357 years, and Alexander the Great had left the world a mere 45 years before.

"Hello, Diana." One of Pyrrhus' handsome soldiers stood next to me in the lane. With the arrival of the army, we had felt secure enough to travel out of the city walls to begin the harvest of olives. I had been delayed due to my mother's illness, so the others had gone on ahead leaving me to catch up. I worried that she had pneumonia and planned to seek out fenugreek to boil to relieve her symptoms.

"I looked for you for years on the mainland before traveling to Macedon. And look what happens when I finally give up and come to Sicily to fight against Carthage—here you are," he said with a grim smile.

"I am not sure what you mean," I said looking at the stranger before me. "My name is Diana, it is true, but I have never been to the mainland, and I do not think that I know you." My heart fluttered fearfully looking at the menacing man before me.

"You do not expect me to believe that you do not recognize me, do you?" he asked incredulously. I tried to take a step away from him, but he gripped my arm painfully.

"Truly, sir, I do not know you. I think you have made a mistake," I said breathlessly trying to twist my arm from his squeezing hand—bruises no doubt ready to appear as soon as the pressure was released.

He pulled me close, looking intently into my fearful eyes that lacked any sign of recognition and slowly released me.

"You look so similar. I guess it is my mistake," he said slowly. "Forgive me and let me help you to the fields." He picked up my fallen basket and gestured for me to lead the way.

* * * *

The Present

When I woke up sitting on the hotel sofa clutching at my arm, I realized that someone was knocking at the door. No one else was back apparently, so I got up and went to check it out—just out of habit, glancing out the peephole. Alex! Unbelievably he was standing calmly waiting for the door to open. Backing away, my entire body began trembling, and I clutched my arms around my middle while shaking my head. What could he possibly want? Well, I knew. It had to mean pain for me.

"Diana, I know you're in there. The hotel personnel told me everyone else had gone out," he said through the door. "Open up. I just want to talk to you." Right.

"You left your sunglasses on the table at the café. I have them here for you," he tried to entice. I didn't move, just kept staring at the door in shock.

"Diana, I have done many things, but I have never lied to you. You know that," he said through the closed door. "I only want to talk." True, he does seem to follow through rather thoroughly with his promises, I thought.

"I'm not leaving," he said knocking again. Slowly I approached the door and again looked through the peephole. He held up my sunglasses and waved them back and forth at the door.

"Why should I believe you?" I asked, leaning my head against the door near the crack of the jam.

"Diana, I want it to end. I won't hurt you. I promise."

"If you want it to end, then you just have to leave. I'll not follow you, that I promise," I said, still not opening the door.

After a moment of silence, he said, "Very well. I'll leave your glasses here on the floor." As I heard his steps walk away, I heaved a sigh and the tension drained out of me, hardly able to believe that he'd left.

A short while later, Helen was back at the hotel with news of the monks.

"For monks who take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience they live well." It was just the two of us as Sam and Maggie hadn't returned yet and the guys had called to say they would be by tomorrow to go over the game plan and make final decisions on weapons. Sol wanted us to "practice."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, they converted a large old villa that's built into a hillside into a mission. It's full of luxurious carpets, tapestries, and old antiques polished to a gleaming shine. I was there when many of them had sat down to dinner, and the food looked and smelled scrumptious. At any rate, since taking over the Domitilla Catacombs in 2009, they have received all profits and maintained all expenses for it ever since."

"Hmm, maybe it was all donated furniture and food," I said, and she shrugged.

"While I was there a bishop from the Vatican showed up." She paused, looked at me closely, and added, "I didn't meet him because I was in what they called the 'greeting' room, but I heard him addressed as Bishop Soratino."

"Is it me or is that odd?" I asked her with my stomach a little unsettled at the thought of the bishop, and she nodded.

"I've learned there are very few true coincidences in life. So I thought it odd too. As I looked out into the hall, he disappeared through a door that concealed a set of stairs leading down to a lower level of the villa."

After sitting in silence for a short while, she said with a smile, "We should get a good night's sleep, Diana, as I have the feeling that tomorrow is going to be a long day with Sol. Good night."

I wished her a goodnight as well and headed to my room. My nap earlier had left me exhausted rather than rested, and I wanted nothing more than to get some true sleep. But I was also nervous, so left the lights on when crawling into bed—not that I expected it to do any good.

##### 

## 10 Path to Humanity

249 BCE

It was a glorious day to be on the island of Sicily. There were still 328 years until Mount Vesuvius would violently erupt, so no such fear existed for the population so near to the Italian states. The only fear was the fighting between Carthage and Rome. Who would ultimately win control of the island?

Some said only a general such as Alexander the Great, gone now these 74 years, had the strategic skills necessary to win the coming battles. Even so, Rome had sent more men, and the legion was marching past on their way to besiege Lilybaeum on the coast. I gasped at the sight of one particular soldier—it was Alexander!

Near the roadway, a large crowd had gathered to cheer them, throwing flower petals for them to tread on as they went by. He was near the front edge of the men, and though he was some distance away, he seemed to sense my presence. In a flash his black eyes met my startled gaze. For one, single second, I thought he was not going to come for me. Then hope fled as he leaped into the crowd. Turning, I ran madly, pushing people out of the way in my desperation.

Gaining a side street, I ducked between the buildings and found an empty barrel awaiting rain. I clambered in and pulled the top closed. Then it was waiting, barely breathing. I heard when his sandaled feet skidded to a halt at the entrance to the alley. He was seeing a dead end full of stacked crates and barrels. Did she go in? I pictured him wondering. Slow step by slow step he approached nearer my hiding place. Did he know? As the lid was removed, I looked up in despair to see him smiling at me.

"Well, well, well. Diana. You like barrels? I have just the one for you," he said as he hauled me out by my hair, my hands clutching at his arms.

"No! Please, Alexander, hasn't enough time gone by? I swear to you that I will never come for you." He laughed raucously at the thought of me actually killing him.

"I promised you when Heph died that you would pay, Diana. I swear to you that this one's going to hurt," he assured me. He dragged me to the outskirts of town where some of the legionnaires camped and ordered one to get 'the barrel.'

"Let me tell you of the barrel so that you can anticipate its arrival," he said. "Last year Marcus Atilius Regulus was offered a reprieve from Carthage and given a chance to go to Rome. His mission was to negotiate a peace or even an exchange of prisoners. Instead, he urged the Roman Senate to refuse and continue fighting.

"For his trouble, when he honored his word and returned to his enemies, he was executed by being placed inside a barrel with spikes facing inward, which then was rolled down a hill," he paused looking at me to see if I understood what was about to happen. I had a sick sinking feeling that I did.

"The barrel was delivered to the Senate, and I have brought it with me to use against the Carthaginians." It seemed only minutes before the barrel was sitting before us. It was almost a typical rain barrel, black with age, or I supposed blood, narrower at the top and fat in the middle. I could see the ends of the spikes where they had been driven through the barrel so that the points were indeed facing inward.

He simply picked me up and placed me within the barrel. As my feet entered first, I tried to keep them together, but even so, my leg was slashed open from ankle to knee on one of the spike tips. Blood began running downward to pool on the bottom of the barrel.

"Please, Alexander." I begged him as I stood stiffly within the barrel.

He took my face between both his hands, "Please what?"

"Please do not do this. You felt remorse at your friend's death. Can you not begin to feel forgiveness as well?" My questions came out in the barest whisper as I stared pleadingly into his eyes.

"You know, I have wanted to kiss you for almost seventy-five years now," he said thoughtfully. We stood silently looking at each other for a moment, his eyes searching, looking for I knew not what. Then slowly he lowered his lips towards mine. As they were about to touch me, I attempted to flinch away, his too tight grip on my head preventing it. But at my slight movement he pulled back and grimly pushed me down into the barrel, sealing me within.

"Please, Alexander!" I begged starting to sob. There were ten spikes placed randomly around the barrel pointing inwards and bracing myself as best I could with my back, arms and legs spread to accommodate them, the barrel was tipped onto its side.

"Until next time, Diana," he called as he gave the barrel a shove to set it rolling.

* * * *

The Present

I opened my eyes struggling for breath expecting to see Maggie back from the concert but the other side of the bed was empty. Looking at the clock, I saw it was only eleven. It felt like years had passed not a mere two hours since going to bed. I rolled back over onto my stomach and shoved my head under the pillow.

* * * *

171 BCE

It was mid summer in Pisa with just over 250 years to go before Mount Vesuvius was to blow its top. The winds from the ocean were bringing relief from the heat when elsewhere people suffered. We had finally become a colony of Rome several years earlier and dwelt under its famous Roman law. The Republic seemed on a path to compete with Alexander the Great's one time empire, though he had been gone these 152 years.

Nevertheless, we were all glad for it meant safety for citizens, for me, to be able to walk unmolested about town. So imagine my surprise, and horror, that fine summer day, when Alexander once again entered my life. He had found me! There could be no worse luck than that! What was more appalling, I gave myself away.

When he walked up to the market stall where I was purchasing fruit, I backed away in alarm, my basket falling and scattering the contents in the walkway. He had only been slightly curious at my behavior until he looked into my face and seen what must have been absolute and abject terror. Then he smiled somewhat happily, and I turned to run.

My size was to my advantage among those gathered in the market square that bright sunny day. I could weave in and out, ducking and dodging around people far more easily than Alexander, and I was fleet of foot. However, people took one look at him and parted the way just as the proverbial Red Sea. And then as I glanced back to see how close he was, I plowed into a farmer's large wife, and we both went down amid tangled arms and legs. The woman started shouting profanities and kicking out at me in anger.

"My apologies good woman," Alexander said loudly as he approached. "The girl is still flighty, but do not worry, I will beat some sense into her." He grasped my upper arm and hauled me upright to stand next to him, tightening his hand in warning when I tried to draw away. Not able to gain my freedom, he strode off dragging me with him past the edge of town to a secluded clearing in the nearby woods on the road to Florence. There he flung me away, and stumbling, I fell amid the dirt and leaves.

"So...it has been a while."

"Hello, Alexander." He threw his head back and laughed as I coolly greeted him, trying to brush the debris off while still sitting.

"So now what?" I asked, trying to appear unafraid and calm looking up at him, but my insides were quivering. I knew what.

"Now payment continues," he grinned as he grabbed the front of my dress to haul me upright. He released me when I was finally on my feet.

Then his fist connected against my cheek with bone shattering intensity. Screaming and clutching at my face, I reeled backward and went down again. The sharp and devastating pain in my face unexpectedly receded almost immediately when he grasped my hair to pull me up, yanking a handful out. With a shake of his hand my hair landed next to me in a clump. He grabbed another handful, got me up this time and violently shook me. I didn't know if that was a good thing or not since I was woozy and could feel myself giving up, with darkness around the edges of my vision.

"Do not pass out on me!" he growled menacingly but it was too late. My next awareness came when icy stream water covered my head. I was lying with gravel biting into my legs amid scrapes and bruises. It felt as if I had been dragged along the ground for a ways. My face was being forced down into the water and pushing up against the pressure on the back of my head, a grasping hand to the hair again helped me upright with one strong pull. Water and blood trickled down my neck and shoulders, and trying to focus, I blinked.

Bringing my face close to his, he said, "You will not get out of this so easily." Releasing my hair, he took a step back to gain room to punch me again. This time his knuckles split my lips against my teeth, snapping my head back and I again landed amid the dirt and leaves. I turned over onto my hands and knees, spitting out blood, and at least one tooth but probably more, trying to crawl away from him. I knew I couldn't escape, but some stubborn streak insisted that I at least try. He brought back his foot and kicked me in the side, causing my ribs to cave inward and ending it quickly just the same, for bone pierced through my lungs. Instead of air only liquid existed to breathe, and I knew no more.

* * * *

The Present

I groaned in despair when I looked at the clock. It was only twelve-thirty! Maggie was back and asleep on her side. She had left one light on but had turned out the others, so it was easy to see in the room, though it was dim. Was I not to get any decent sleep this night? Realizing I would be up for a while, a shower seemed like a good idea. The hot water, as always, seemed to soothe my worries away. Even though Alex knew where I was, even though he had actually come here, he had gone away. I just couldn't quite convince myself that was the end of it as I crawled back in bed.

* * * *

88 BCE

The Greek island of Crete was a long way from Mount Vesuvius and would not be touched when it erupted 167 years later. Though Alexander the Great had been gone for 235 years, people still spoke of his military genius, praising his strategic abilities. I was neither concerned with Vesuvius nor with Alexander, for it was Rome that was extending its power, and so far, I had escaped Alexander's notice.

My home was in Knossos, and as a daughter to a politician, I was the frequent hostess to many of my father's friends and fellow statesmen—one of which was Alexander. The first time he was in my house, I thought he had found me out, but he had just looked at me politely and smiled! I had smiled back in sheer relief, realizing that my father had just introduced me using the Greek form of my name 'Artemis.'

My mother had died when I was extremely young, and as the sound of 'Diana' reminded him sharply of her, adding to his sadness, he never called me by it. I might actually have a chance this time, I had thought.

Alexander became, not a frequent visitor, but certainly no stranger to our household, which included not only my father and me, but also my cousin Magdalena. Always nervous of him, I watched him carefully whenever he was near or even when I saw him in the streets. A merchant was cuffing a young beggar boy one time, when apparently the boy had tried to acquire some food. Alexander saw what was happening, as had I, going over and grabbing the man's arm as it descended toward the boy.

"Enough," he had said. The man tried to bluster and pull away while accusing the boy of thievery, but Alexander had merely shoved the merchant away in disgust, causing him to fall into his cart, toppling it over. He then grabbed an apple and tossed it to the boy who ran quickly away. Odd behavior for a demon, I had thought.

While I was not with him all the time, still I never saw an unkind gesture from him towards anyone that did not deserve it. In fact, it was the opposite. There were many acts of kindness such as with the boy. I thought that everything would be fine as long as I did not reveal myself. Truly best laid plans pave the way to Hades.

Magdalena's birthday approached and a large celebration was arranged, inviting many far-flung relatives. Her parents had died in a plague that left few alive in their small town to tell the tale, and my father had been adamant that she live with us, not only to provide a home for her but also as a companion for me. When the day dawned bright and clear, the guests began to arrive.

"Tellus, how wonderful for you to make the trip. It must be twenty years since I saw you last," my father greeted him as we all stood by to shake hands and embrace those we had missed. He was an older uncle of my father's, and as a boy he had sailed to far lands and experienced many adventures that he loved to share with anyone who would listen.

"I have not traveled in some time, and it feels good to be out and about again. So this is the lovely Diana," he added, as he held out two hands to draw me close for an embrace. When he addressed me, my heart nearly stopped, and I looked around quickly. Alexander was somewhere as he had arrived earlier. And there he was. Staring at me. It appeared to me as if we were the only people in that crowded room, for silence seemed to descend as my searching gaze found his eyes—which were blazing with recognition and sudden rage. Abruptly there was a rushing roar in my head as sound returned, and looking back at Tellus, I smiled tremulously.

"Excuse me, please. I must see to the final preparations." And I sedately walked to the doorway leading out to the courtyard where, as soon as I rounded the corner, I simply ran for it. I hoped with so many people that knew us both that he would not follow. Surely there would be some instinct to hide what he was from them. He would not want them to see him kill the daughter of a friend. A vain hope apparently as I did not realize that he deliberately gave me a lead so that we would not have witnesses.

"Diana, you had me completely fooled. Did you ask your father to call you Artemis?" he asked as he approached. He had gotten his horse and simply rode up beside me. "I guess you forgot about hiring the young boys to walk the horses. Fortunately, Max was handy," he added as I looked around in surprise. I had gotten several blocks away and was heading for the outskirts of town as he caught up with me.

"Alexander, please. We have known each other for years now. You are friends with my father. We are friends. I recognized you from the beginning. Please." I was backing away as I pleaded, but I knew there was no escape. When he gestured without another word for me to take his hand, I did so and was pulled up in front of him with his arms effectively caging me on the horse.

"What are you going to do?" I asked with just the slightest quiver in my voice as I leaned back against his broad chest. I could feel his muscles flexing with the movement of the horse and knew that should he so desire, he could easily crush my throat.

"I agree, we have been friends this time, Diana, but still you must be punished. So I am torn," he paused thoughtfully as Maximus slowly continued to pace towards the town boundaries. For a time we were both quiet, I too worried, and he contemplative. Then I recognized the path we were on.

"What have you decided, Alexander?" I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.

"What do you think about dehydration and starvation?" he asked musingly.

"You would cause me such extended pain?" I asked clutching at his surrounding arms with shaky hands.

"Do you not think it fair as you have caused me pain for all these years?"

"What occurred was not through my intent but yours, Alexander," I said with the stirrings of anger.

"Diana, all that I wanted was to be with you and you betrayed me!" he said with flaring rage.

"Are you a lunatic? I betrayed you? I spoke politely to your friend, that was all!" I was nearly shouting in his face, my fear forgotten momentarily. He had dismounted, pulling me down to stand facing him, his hands still holding my waist. We had arrived at our destination—the Labyrinth of the Minotaur.

"You stabbed me in the back with a dinner knife!" he gave me a slight shake.

"Well, you are a demon!" I was pushing on his arms trying to get him to release me, but it was as if I pushed against stone. As my back was still to the horse, I was effectively pinned. Looking up at him I saw his lips twitch in amusement, and the anger drained from us both.

"Please, Alexander, do not do this," I pleaded quietly.

"I swore you would be punished each time I found you," he answered.

"But you do not want to do this now. Look, you are willing to send me into a maze to die so that you do not have to do it yourself." He looked to the entrance and then back down at me, clearly weighing the validity of my words.

"Remember the evenings sitting in my home with my father and me discussing the fate of the world as well as the smallest gossip of the marketplace. Remember all the times I prepared your favorite foods just to please you. Please Alexander...do not do this," I gestured towards the cave as I ended in a whisper looking up at him.

His gaze was searching as he looked into my eyes and then his head slowly moved towards mine. I knew he was going to kiss me, but I was afraid...afraid of doing the wrong thing. If I kissed him back, would he think I was just trying to fool him? If I did not kiss him, would he take it as an insult? My heart was pounding, and my stomach felt sick. It was no time for a kiss, and I simply panicked. So as he lips descended towards mine, at the last moment, I turned my head, and he kissed my cheek gently.

"Goodbye, Diana," he said quietly. Taking the dagger he always wore at his belt, he rammed it under my rib cage and into my heart.

* * * *

The Present

I woke clutching at my chest with the sun's morning rays shining into the hotel bedroom at last. I was exhausted and didn't feel as if I had gotten any rest the night before, not remembering a time when so many different dreams had spun through my mind in one night. Had they been stimulated by Alex's presence in Rome? It must be, because they were all about him. I could hear the others in the sitting room of the suite so got up to dress. A black M-Cube t-shirt was laid out across the chair, a clear invitation to wear. I pulled it on and went to join the others for some breakfast.

"Hey," I said, walking in to sit at the table loaded with covered dishes from room service. "Thanks for the t-shirt."

"No problem. You really missed the coolest concert! They were awesome!" Sam was still stoked obviously, but then I saw them exchange a significant glance as I bit into a piece of luke warm toast.

"It was fun, but we did run into someone there," Maggie said, pouring some orange juice in a glass and pushing it over to me. I looked at her and flapped my hand, gesturing for her to continue as I chewed.

"Alex was there," Sam said, and my eyes flicked to him in alarm.

"What?" I coughed up a few crumbs of toast, took a swig of juice, and then cleared my throat.

"He was there. He recognized me from the café and came up to us afterwards. He said he wanted to make sure we got back to the hotel safely."

"Yeah, he said that sometimes it gets a little rough at those promotional gigs. They're a new band just starting to make a name for themselves, and he said he'd been worried that we'd get hurt if there was a ruckus," Maggie added.

"And you believed him?" I was stunned. "Why would he even care? What were you thinking?"

"I think he just wanted to see you," Maggie said. "He kept looking around like he expected you to be there too."

"Well, he was here earlier, and I didn't let him in. So he should've known that if I'd seen him, I would've run for it."

"He came to the door?" Sam asked. I nodded, my appetite gone. "I wonder what his game is?"

"What do you think? He's going to kill me. AGAIN!" My heart rate wouldn't calm down, and I got up to pace around the room.

"I don't think so." Maggie looked thoughtful, and when I raised my eyebrows, she said, "I mean, if he'd been here earlier when no one but you was here, wouldn't he have done it then? What did he say?"

"That he just wanted to talk." I sat back down and propped my chin in my hand on the table.

"Well, from some of the dreams you've told us about, he never wanted to talk before."

"Maggie, what's the deal? You liked him didn't you?" I asked incredulously, and she slowly nodded.

"Yeah, I guess I did. He seemed really nice, you know, concerned for us. And just a little bit sad."

"That's because he has no reason to kill you!" I couldn't believe that Maggie and Sam actually liked him! I felt betrayed and infuriated at the same time. "Look there's been other times when he's talked to me, but then he's still killed me. I can't trust him! You can't trust him!"

"Okay, okay, calm down. Di, we'd never choose him over you," Sam assured, patting my shoulder, obviously concerned that crying was about to begin as angry moisture formed in my eyes.

Helen came in and told us that the others would be over shortly so that we could work out our game plan for the catacombs. We went back to finishing breakfast so the table could be cleared off before they arrived. Even so, it was a while before my heart rate settled down to a more normal pace.

Who would have thought that something that could fit in the palm of your hand could feel so heavy? It was only fourteen ounces, but it felt like I was holding a bowling ball...its metal casing cold against my skin—a grenade. It was unbelievable. I was in a complete state of shock thinking that I was about to go into "battle" against demons. I'd dreamed about them for most of my life but never imagined that they were real. Was I about to die before I had even really had a chance to live?

The guys had shown up with the weapons already arranged. The grenades attached to straps that would cross over our chests and sticks of extra silver ammo along belts for our waists. The night vision glasses were the most amazing and cool looking. They had a slight amber tint, and on either side at the temple, there was a tiny hole through which ultraviolet light would shine out, powered by a tiny battery. The objects that were so illuminated could be seen through the amber haze.

"Come on! You throw like a girl!" Sol was exasperated with me but teasing. I'd never so much as thrown a baseball in my life. "You have to be sure to get enough range so that you aren't caught in the explosion."

I nodded and threw another grenade at the sofa. We had rearranged the room so that the sofa's back was to the windows against the wall. We'd each taken turns throwing the grenades at the pillows so that we'd be prepared in the tunnels. My last throw had missed the sofa entirely and smacked David in the side while he stood braiding rope for ladders, unaware of the incoming missile.

"I think I should help with the ropes," I finally said. I figured if I needed the grenades, I'd probably be dead anyway. Sol wouldn't let me off though and kept me at it longer than anyone else.

He drilled us in removing the ammo and timed our reloading. We darkened the rooms so that we could practice finding each other in the dark with nothing but the glasses. Sam and Maggie were the demons in hiding for us to find. We had a lot of fun with that one. Then he insisted that we all rest and eat as night fell. I didn't have much of an appetite. In fact, I felt like throwing up. I tried to remember how many dreams I'd had where I'd fought demons and died—or fought them and won. I had died too many times to count. When I looked at my hands, they were shaking.

##### 

## 11 The Catacombs

Why did we pick the dead of night to go into the catacombs? Oh, yeah, there would be far fewer innocent people who could possibly get hurt. I knew that, but it was super creepy. Our first challenge was to get over the stone wall surrounding the entrance to the catacombs or through the iron gate. Solomon had devised a homemade rope ladder with hooks on the ends so that we could climb in and out pretty easily over the wall. We all had pitched in earlier in the day to put together two ladders from the parts he brought. Fortunately, there was no barbwire or razor wire above the wall like they had in places in the U.S.

Then he said we'd be able to cut our way through the chain link fence that covered the windows to the basilica. The windows were at ground level though I knew they were high on the walls of the buried basilica. We would go through them and down into the basilica to enter the catacombs beyond via the second rope ladder. At which point I would stay on the main level and the others would descend. It was really sweet that Sol thought he was putting me in the safest position. Of course, I still had a job to do, and he wasn't letting me completely off.

The second real challenge was the fact that it would be completely dark in the catacombs. But with the fancy glasses Sol had acquired for us, that shouldn't present much of a problem. It might not be like looking across a sunny beach, but we'd be able to see clearly enough to move around safely and see anything attacking us. Sam really wanted a pair. He'd taken a turn playing catch the demon earlier while I hid and was hooked.

According to the maps I'd gotten from Bishop Soratino, the upper level was also the smallest, so Solomon thought that I'd be ready if any demons were flushed upward by the others.

David was the last one down the rope ladder into the basilica. We had agreed earlier that silence was to be maintained once we'd entered the church. Sol's orders really. He had a big military background, I guess. So the others headed down quietly, and I waited, listening to the whisper of their passage before I moved into the upper tunnel.

"Pssst." I just barely heard the noise as I paused at the entrance, and whirling around, saw Alex step out from behind a column next to an alcove! Was this it then? Was he here to kill me?

"Come over here," he whispered. I just shook my head, bringing up my gun to point at him. I couldn't be sure, but I thought he heaved a sigh. My .22 Beretta equipped with a silencer was filled with silver bullets, and extra ammo was strapped all over me. The barrel wavered some as my hand shook.

"Behind you!" He suddenly shouted and lunged towards me. Right. Like I'd fall for that one. I moved sideways as I fired directly at him, but because of my shaking hand, the bullet just grazed his thigh. My sideways movement though probably saved my life. I felt the wind from the passing claws as they moved through the space I had just left.

Alex moved so quickly I didn't have time to bring my gun around to face him. Then he was on the demon in a grotesque parody of a dance, struggling briefly before I saw his arm flash upward and then down, stabbing the demon through the throat. As he released it and it dropped to the floor writhing and beginning to smoke, he turned to me. No longer was it just my hand shaking. My entire body shook with reaction to my near miss. Then his arms were around me, holding me close to his chest.

"Shhhh, there now, it's okay," he whispered into my hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Diana, don't you remember the Titanic?" he asked quietly.

"Titanic? Just that I died on it. Why?"

"We don't have time for explanations right now. Please just try to remember. But for now, we need to get you out of here."

"No, I have to go into the tunnel," I said stubbornly.

"No, you get out of here. I will go in for you instead."

"What are you talking about?" We were whispering furiously at that point.

"Diana, I don't want you to get hurt. Please just do as I ask. I will take care of this."

"But you're hurt." He was favoring the leg I had shot, and it looked as if the demon had also clawed it open during their brief struggle.

"I'm fine. Will you please just go?"

But the decision was taken out of our hands because another demon attacked! The impact threw us both to the ground, but I managed to keep my grip on the gun. As we rolled apart, I sat up and fired at the demon, hitting it squarely in the back as it straddled Alex. He heaved the demon to one side, dragging himself nearer the wall and struggled to sit upright. One hand pressed to his side where a bloody stain spread. As I looked on, the demon began shaking and burst apart into a cloud of smoke, as had the other one while we argued.

"Are you going to shoot me, Diana?" he asked softly. I realized I had unconsciously pointed the gun at him. Should I—could I? Slowly, I lowered the gun.

"Why did you save me from that first demon?"

"We don't have time right now for explanations," he repeated. "Please just trust me." I shook my head. He had killed me too many times for me to trust him now, I thought. But after he had saved me, I knew I couldn't kill him outright.

"If you're still here when the others come out, one of them will kill you," I told him as I headed into the tunnel.

"Diana!" he whispered urgently, but I ignored him and continued on.

I kept my left hand on the wall and moved cautiously with the gun facing forward. I wondered how the others were faring. Already I had met with two demons, and Sol had thought that I'd have it the easiest with the upper level. I hoped that they were all okay.

The tunnel made a simple maze, basically square, with several interconnecting tunnels totaling just over a mile in length and a few alcoves. I needed to hurry, because to cover that distance, Sol calculated it would take me twenty minutes, but he said to allow thirty just in case of demons. Then I was to be back at the entrance to cover the others as they came up. Deep breath. I had memorized the layout but wondered if there had been many changes over the centuries. Some of the maps were ancient.

Time seemed to crawl as slowly as I moved. Oddly, I did not encounter any more demons in the next fifteen minutes, and I was already more than half way through the maze. It made me think that Sol had been right, and the demons I'd already faced had been flushed upward from the other levels.

I was at a side tunnel connector that contained an alcove and paused to listen, thinking I heard a noise, a scrapping. But my heart was beating so loudly that it was difficult to tell. Examining the alcove, the night vision glasses allowed me to see the slightly darker outline of a door in the wall. I approached it and felt along the edges with my fingertips but couldn't find a doorknob. Again, I thought I heard something behind me, and when I turned to look, pressed my side to the wall inadvertently pushing a hidden button that caused it to open. It was an elevator! I stepped in and the door silently slid shut. There were only two buttons, so down it was, and the elevator started moving.

Now what? If the door opened into a room full of demons, I was a goner. So taking two of the grenades, I prepared to pull the pins and throw if necessary. I was still amazed at how heavy a fourteen-ounce grenade felt in my hand. I was shaking so badly though that I wondered if I would be able to get them far enough away so I wouldn't be caught in the blast. But when the door opened, all was quiet. It was a square room that looked like it belonged in an office building. Individual cubicles were set up each with a computer, the monitors off but the desktops below had a glowing green light for the hard drive.

I cautiously moved into the room looking to my right and left and approached one of the computers. Still looking around, I touched the mouse of one to awaken the monitor. Curiously, it came up to a login screen for a dating website called Demon Lovers, with a little, cutesy red devil complete with a forked tail that ended in a heart. I was going to check the history, but from behind me, I heard a scrabbling sound.

I wasn't looking down, so I didn't see anything immediately...not until I felt the searing pain in my calf. There on the floor was...something. It seemed like a cross between a snake and a dog. It had four short legs on a long tailed body, but the head looked more similar to a python with lots of teeth instead of just fangs. It seemed more scaly than furry. It had bitten me and was rearing back ready to strike again.

In a panic and gasping in pain, I realized that I only had grenades in my hands. I'd put my gun up while in the elevator worrying that I was going to meet with a pack of demons when the door slid open. The thing latched onto my leg again, tearing through my boot into the muscle. While trying to shake my leg to loosen the creature, I clutched at the closest desk and put down the grenades to pull out my gun. It was the shot that gave me away. For some reason the silencer didn't work, and the shot echoed around the room.

A door, which until then had been unnoticed in the opposite wall from the elevator, opened. Without thought, I fired my gun at the first demon coming through, but the others began climbing over it. Trying to fire again, nothing happened. Murphy's law. Dropping the gun to the floor, I quickly picked up the grenades sitting on the desk, pulled the pins, and tossed both into the midst of the demon pack.

As soon as I released the grenades, I dove head first through the still open door of the elevator. Rolling over, I pulled two more grenades loose from the straps crossing my chest, removed the pins, and bounced them through the closing door. Not much distance on those. Fingers in my ears, I felt the first concussion as the doors sealed. Before I could push the up button, the other two grenades detonated.

The explosions shook the elevator violently, and as I cringed on the floor curled up with my hands over my head, the door bulged inward. The chaos from the explosions seemed to go on for a while, longer than in the movies. There was a roaring afterwards with puffs of dust being forced into the elevator. Did tons of earth from above just fall down to swallow the room? I wondered. I thought so.

When the elevator quit shaking, I frantically jabbed at the up button without getting off the floor, but nothing happened. Gasping, I sat up to take stock of my situation. I had bruises head to toe, but it was my leg that worried me. The demon's teeth had lacerated half my calf, and the bleeding had yet to stop.

With shaking hands, it took three tries to loosen my belt and get it off. Attempting to stem the bleeding, I wrapped it around my calf. Hoping it would give my leg some support when standing, I still could not put any weight on it when at last I pulled myself upright.

As in most elevators, there was a hatch at the top in the ceiling but how to reach it? Then I heard noise from above. Great, I thought, an avalanche of earth wouldn't kill a demon, so they've gone around and were coming down the shaft to get at me. I pulled out another grenade.

"Diana!" I heard a muted shout from above. That sounded like Alex!

"I'm here," I called back, starting to cry in relief.

"Are you injured?"

"My leg...a little. I can't reach the hatch."

"Wait, I'm coming down." I didn't hear anything until there was a thump up top a few moments later. Wow that was quick. Did he jump? He opened the hatch and looked down at me.

"Get back," he said before sliding in to stand next to me. He reached out, pulled me to his chest, hugged me tight, and sighed. "When I heard the explosion, I thought you were gone again." I was completely confused by his actions. Why was he worried? Was it necessary to kill me himself rather than letting some other demon do it?

Releasing me with seeming reluctance, he said, "Let's get you out of here now. Can you lift yourself through the hatch if I give you a boost?"

"I think so." Blood had soaked the side of his shirt and the leg of his jeans, but even so, he bent down, put his hands on my hips, and lifted me almost halfway through the hatch. It was easy to wiggle on through at that point. As I moved out of the way, he jumped, pulling himself up and out. Wow.

"How did you get down here?" I asked looking around at the smooth walls of the elevator shaft.

"I slid down on the cables."

"So now what?" I was looking up the shaft dreading the effort it was going to take to get to the top.

"So now I will climb back up, get that rope ladder of yours, and bring it for you to use. Do you think you can climb it?" He raised a brow looking at my leg.

"If you can get it here, I can climb it," I assured him.

At that, he grabbed the cables and started climbing. I've taken gym in school and worked out in the neighborhood gym. I've watched boys climb ropes almost my whole life. But the ropes had knots for gripping, the climbers weren't injured, and most importantly, my life didn't really depend on success. So I have to admit, I was pretty impressed by the time he gained the top of the shaft. And pretty scared when he disappeared from view.

I waited and waited. Would he come back? Why had he come in the first place? What did he want me to remember about the Titanic? I know I died on the Titanic. I remember buying the house in New York in the 1930s, and I had been in my mid-twenties. So I had to have been born in 1912 or 1913. So what actually happened on the Titanic?

"Diana? Be ready." I was so glad to hear his voice. Until that moment I hadn't even realized that silent tears covered my cheeks. When the end of the rope ladder landed next to me, my left leg wouldn't work right, so I took most of my weight on my arms and other leg on the way up. As I neared the top, he reached out to help pull me over the lip of the elevator opening. I was shaking from the effort and had to sit for a minute to catch my breath. In the meantime, he coiled the rope ladder up, and I thought it was to take it with us back to the windows, but instead when we made our hobbling progress back to the basilica, we headed towards the front entrance.

"I'm supposed to go back up over there. The others will be watching for me."

"They've already gone."

"What do you mean? Did you see them?" I asked frowning.

"Yes, they were leaving when I went to get the ladder."

"You didn't tell them about me?" I was frustrated. I don't think I would have left if there were someone unaccounted for, and it hurt a little thinking that they'd deserted me.

"No."

"You just let them leave?" I asked him, and he nodded. "But why?"

"All of them seemed to have sustained some injuries, and I knew I could get you out easily enough. Now come, we have to see to your leg." Finally he just picked me up, tired of my shambling progress.

He had a car not far from the main entrance to the basilica. I tried not to stare as he pulled the gull wing door open and helped me inside. I looked around at the leather and chrome in the 1981 DeLorean. He'd painted the stainless steel finish a gloss black, and I had to admit, it looked sharp! He climbed in next to me, and then instead of heading for the front gate, he drove towards the east wall. There I saw a side gate standing open. Ha, if we'd known about that, we wouldn't have had to climb over the wall.

As we drove in silence, I pulled out my cell and sent Mags a text:

Am ok. Hurt leg. Going to take care of. Don't worry.

"Call me crazy but I thought we'd go to a hospital," I said a short time later as we pulled into a parking garage for an apartment building instead.

"No, they'd ask too many questions," he answered looking at me. "Questions I don't think you are prepared to answer. Am I right?" Yeah, I guess so, I thought and nodded.

I hoped I was right that Mags didn't need to worry. By the time we had parked, my cell buzzed with Maggie's response:

K. Don't forget flight tomorrow morn at 7am. Need help?

So I sent back:

No, am good. If not back, bring my stuff please and I will meet you on plane.

It was already three in the morning, and I didn't know how long my leg was going to take.

##### 

## 12 Alexander the Great

Alex's apartment was amazing. My mom was really big into watching HGTV shows, and they had nothing on his place. It was immaculate and well decorated in a style that Candace Olsen would say was modern traditional. When he opened the door, I saw a large room that included a kitchen, dining, and living area and directly opposite the door, a wall of windows. The view was spectacular, and I couldn't even see all of it. I shut my mouth when I realized it was hanging open.

I hobbled forward as Alex closed the door behind us. In front of the windows was a small table with a bronze sculpture on it. I stared at the unusual design that hinted of a bird's flight as he came up beside me.

"It's called 'Unique Forms of Continuity in Space' and was sculpted in 1913 by Futurist artist Umberto Boccioni. I find that when I stare at it, it calms me." We both stared at it for a moment. I could agree with that sentiment.

"The bathroom's through here," he said opening a door to the right of the entrance. "Let's get you cleaned up and take a look at your leg." He put his arm around me, supporting most of my weight, as he had from the car to his apartment door. Getting helped around was kind of nice.

I had already removed and put all my gear into the backpack that the old jeweler's grandson, Antonio, had put together for me, so it was just a matter of getting to my calf. Which was easier said than done because I was wearing stretchy, skinny jeans...that meant I was going to have to take them off, so I hesitated. My face must have revealed my dilemma because he smiled.

"I think I have something for you to change into so that we can work on your leg. Wait just a minute." He left me still standing in the doorway of the bathroom and went through another door further along the wall into what I assumed was his bedroom. He came back out carrying a few articles of clothing.

"Here, go on in the bathroom and get those jeans off. Even if one of these doesn't fit perfectly, put something on so that we can see your leg." He gave me the clothes and quietly closed the door behind me.

I discovered that one of the things he'd brought me was a pair of Mickey Mouse pajama boxers that fit perfectly. Odd. I wouldn't have taken him for a Mickey fan. He seemed amused at my choice when I called to him to come in, but even so he set to work cleaning the wounds on my calf. The thing must have had a double row of teeth like a shark if the lacerations were any indication. I inhaled with a gasp as he applied peroxide by pouring it right on the wounds and clenched my teeth against crying out. He patted the wounds dry, turning my leg to see both sides, looking to see how deep they were.

"I don't think you need stitches, but I'll put some antibiotic ointment on before I bind them." He put words into action, and I gritted my teeth some more. He moved on to wrapping gauze around my calf, and I watched his hands as he worked, those hands that had caused me such pain now gently helping.

"What about you? I know that you got hurt too," I said finally when the pain had eased somewhat. Mainly I just wanted to take my mind off what he was doing, as it was making me a little nauseous. Well, that could also be because I had not eaten anything for quite a while. I'd been too nervous for dinner.

While I had been changing earlier, he had changed into a pair of jogging shorts leaving the wounds on his thigh and slices on his calf visible and still bleeding slightly.

"I'll get fixed up after we finish with you. I'll be all right after a little rest." Right at that moment my stomach growled loudly which made us both laugh.

"I guess you'll need to eat too," he said. His leg wasn't as bad as mine, but I saw when he stripped off his shirt that he had a hole in his side the size of a quarter. No wonder he's able to scale the elevator cables, I thought, looking at his biceps and abs, not to mention carrying me around so easily. He obviously worked out...a lot.

"That looks like you need stitches." I continued to sit on the toilet with my leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, too drained to move while he cleaned his wounds.

"No, I'll just tape it up. It'll heal fine," he said proceeding to pour peroxide into the wound on his side.

After he was done, we washed most of the surface grime off. He got a wet washcloth and tried to wipe my face as if I was three, which was kind of amusing. I tried to get it away from him, and after much fumbling I finally succeeded, only to find that he was laughing silently at my inept struggles. I felt ridiculous.

Finally, he picked me up and carried me to a stool at the counter in his kitchen, ignoring my claims of being able to get around. Then I watched as he fixed us something to drink along with a couple of sandwiches—some kind of sausage with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese. My mouth began to water.

"So, you are a demon, right?" I finally had the courage to ask.

"Yes," he said, slightly smiling as he put a plate down on the counter before me.

"And you've killed me pretty often," I added. He flinched a little but nodded.

"So why did you help me tonight?" I asked frowning and completely confused.

"You don't remember the Titanic, do you?"

"Uh, not really, no." I shook my head. "But I guess, from your statement, that you were on the Titanic too?"

He seemed to hesitate, obviously trying to decide what to tell me. "Yes, I was on the Titanic. I'm curious, what exactly do you remember about me?"

"Well, I..." goodness, what to say? "I remember that we were married at least once," I could feel my face starting to burn and I twiddled my bread crust around on the plate. "But then you burned me at the stake."

"That was the last time we were together, before the Titanic," he said. "Is that all?"

"Umm, no. No, I remember a few more. Like once you killed me with a sword under a tree on a hillside here in Rome. Once I think you hit me. There was a barrel," I paused. I knew there had been other times because there had been other dreams, but my throat seemed to close. I noticed that with each listing he seemed to flinch slightly. I nervously took a drink of water.

"So you just remember dying?" he asked. "Don't you remember anything before it?"

"Umm, sometimes I remember at least parts of the life but basically, yeah, I just remember the death." I shrugged trying to seem nonchalant. We finished eating, and he helped me move to sit on the sofa (carried me again), propping my leg up along the couch with my back pressed to one rolled-back arm. Then he sat opposite me on a chaise lounge, leaning back.

"Well, let's just say that I don't always want to kill you."

"Right, up until you do kill me?" He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand across his face at my question. So I added, "But you're a demon. Why can't I smell you the way I do the other demons?" I didn't understand the whole demon thing yet. It hadn't even been a week since I'd even realized that my beliefs in reincarnation had taken on a whole new perspective.

"Two reasons I think. Mind you, I'm not sure, but mostly I think it's because of my age." So, the older a demon got, the less it smelled. Interesting. "And then too, I no longer kill people to consume their souls which helps. I used to disguise the scent with cinnamon but now there are colognes that help. You know, you have a slight cinnamony odor yourself."

"I do?" I asked, and he nodded. "Is that how you recognize me so easily?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well...you just seem to know it's me. Tell me, did you know before Sam came up in the square the other day?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yes, you were so nervous, so it was that, coupled with your birthday. Though your hair or skin color might be different, you tend to be about the same height and weight, and from time to time you have similar features as previously. But sometimes no matter your appearance, I just have to look into your eyes, and I know that it's you."

He seemed to be watching me closely to observe my reaction, but all I could think of was my mother telling me about when she met my dad. I cleared my throat.

Then I asked nervously, "When was the last time you consumed a soul?" I knew it could have easily been the day before. Was he telling me the truth? Strangely, it felt like it.

"You were there actually. Do you remember me as Alexander the Great?" he paused momentarily, lifting an eyebrow at me. I merely shrugged a shoulder in response.

"I killed my supposed father, Phillip II of Macedonia and took his soul. History has made me Phillip's son. In reality I'd merely lived with the king for years, along with my friend and his advisor, Aristotle. Really it was Aristotle's ideas regarding philosophy, government, politics, and the sciences, along with poetry and drama that began to change me I think. I began to be interested in life, of being able to spend time with people that I found interesting.

"At Phillip's death, I promptly took over the army and invaded Thessaly and Thrace, easily winning. At Thebes all I left standing were its temples and the house of the poet Pindar. That level of destruction was my usual, what we say now, standard operating procedure, and the other Greek states quickly submitted. Then I defeated the great Persian army at the Granicus River. I was the greatest military leader of the time. And in an attempt to unite all those diverse areas, I adopted Persian dress and customs, even making my men bow down before me.

"In Egypt, I met with no resistance and, in fact, the Egyptians proclaimed me pharaoh and a god. I began to feel like a god. But after ten long years of military conquest, I returned to Babylon, where I met you, and my world effectively came to an end."

* * * *

323 BCE

I first saw Alexander when he rode his favorite horse, Bucephalus, through the cherry orchard that my family and I were helping to harvest. With the sun shining down upon him and sparkling off of his weapons and armor, he looked magnificent sitting on that horse. But as he drew nearer, I saw a hard glint in his eyes. I could tell that he was totally ruthless. His mouth, while curved upward, wasn't truly smiling instead it just seemed cruel. I quickly looked down at the netting in my hands, but I knew that he was watching me.

"What is your name, good sir," he asked my father.

"Berosus, sire. Would you care for some cherries, sire?" he asked and beckoned me forward with a basketful of cherries. I reluctantly moved forward, proffering the basket though still not looking up.

"Cherries are not the only sweet I crave. Who is this?" he asked while taking a handful of cherries.

"She is my daughter, Diana, sire."

"Send her to me at the palace tomorrow." He rode off but, with the statement that he made so blithely, though I was not to know it at the time, he changed my life for eternity.

"Sire, you sent for me?" I asked softly. I had been in the palace for several days but had not been summoned by Alexander until now. I was surprised to enter a room with a long table set for a feast. As I spoke, he turned to look at me. He had been standing by the window looking out over the gardens with the moonlight shining down, and I had come up behind him quietly.

"Yes, we are having a celebratory dinner. Join us," he said. "Ah, here is my good friend and my best general, Hephaestion, to add merriment to the festivities. Heph, this is Diana."

Hephaestion was an immense, scarred man. His torso was as large as one of the pillars of Zeus's temple! While standing with the two men, a light breeze wafted across us, and I smelled it! There was a demon close by! As faint as the odor was, it must be in the garden, I thought. I was standing too far from the window to see out well, so I moved closer to Alexander to get a better view. When I did, I realized that it was from Alexander that I smelled the demon reek. He did not have the absolute stench of the other demon I had killed last year, but the stink definitely clung to him under a slight cinnamony odor.

My heart started beating much, much faster. Now what? I knew that at some point, probably tonight after dinner, I would have to be alone with him. After all, that was why he had demanded my presence at the palace. Never mind that I did not wish to be here and was completely disgusted by him. A woman's wishes were never taken into account. I sighed with resignation as I realized I had no silver weapon.

I have never seen a demon so very human looking, I thought, as I looked him up and down in amazement. He and Hephaestion were laughing at a joke that I had missed. When he laughed, Alexander lost that hard glint in his eyes and looked young and fresh. Handsome. Someone you might like to know.

Behind us the room slowly filled with people. Before I knew it, Alexander took my elbow to guide me to sit at the table with him, and I shivered. He looked askance at me, but I forced a slight smile to my lips.

All during the meal, I managed to answer sensibly when spoken to, but my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of killing him. Would the dinner knife be silver? Later, how would I be able to escape? I refused to give myself any reason to doubt that I would be successful. I must be successful. So, it would be noticed if I went to his room, and he was dead immediately afterward. I could feel my life expectancy dwindling rapidly.

"Where did Alexander find such a lovely goddess?" Hephaestion asked me smiling kindly.

"You flatter me needlessly. Besides, I can hardly answer such a question," I replied.

"Nonsense. Tell me where he found such as you and is there another?" he asked with a broader smile and a wink. He was a charmer, and I could not resist smiling back at him.

"There is only me I am afraid. How long have you been a general?" I asked, trying to get the conversation on a broader, less personal topic. We became engrossed in our exchange and in such preoccupation, I did not notice when everyone else was gone except for Hephaestion, Alexander, and me. Alexander was staring at us coldly, that glint back in his eye.

"Heph, what would you?" He asked as he toyed with his dinner knife, flipping it end over end.

"Nothing, Alexander, I was merely speaking with her," he avoided looking at me as he answered. The tension in the atmosphere was thickening.

"Is this to be another instance exposing your lack of loyalty to me?" he asked harshly.

"Alexander, I was trying to help with the men, not be disloyal. I thought we were past that?" he ended on a questioning note.

"You think she needs guidance and encouragement as the men supposedly did?" He was disdainful.

"They did! And you finally agreed. That is why we came back." I felt that Heph intentionally didn't say anything in response about me.

"Yes, I gave up my plans for expansion because you and the men were tired and wanted to stay in one place for a while."

"We'd been marching across the land for ten long years, Alexander. Of course the men wanted to rest. You lost more men to disease and accident than you did in battle. They were tired and footsore. You agreed that we should come back to Babylon!" As they spoke, I looked from one to the other, and I could feel Alexander's bitterness emanating in waves from him.

"I think you should excuse us Diana," Alexander said. "You may wait for me through those doors." He pointed to a pair of double doors at the end of the room. I looked at Hephaestion, and he smiled kindly at me, but really, what could he do? He didn't even realize the true extent of my horror.

During dinner I had slipped my dinner knife through my sash, and I carefully pressed my arm against it, hiding it as I moved to follow the directions. Was it silver? I did not think so, but hope died hard.

In the center of the room I entered, there was a raised dais with three shallow steps leading up to a large, round bed draped with silk. Since I certainly didn't want to get in the bed, I wasn't entirely sure what to do. I chose to stand near the closed doors trying to decide the best side to be on, knife ready, when he walked in.

Through the door, I could hear their voices but not their words even though it sounded as if they were shouting. In the middle of a word, Hephaestion's voice was abruptly cut off. Worried, I took a step towards the door with my hand out to take the knob and then hesitated at the silence.

After a short time still not hearing anything, I gently eased the door open to peek through and saw Alexander standing over Hephaestion's body. Heph had a dinner knife sticking out of his throat, his blood had sprayed across the carpet, the dining table and absolutely covered Alexander.

"He was my friend," he said to me not looking up at my entrance.

"Why?" Whether I meant why had he killed him or why did he think of him as a friend I do not know, but I felt bold enough to take a few cautious steps toward Alexander, keeping my hand with the knife hidden behind my body.

"I could not let him have you."

"So you stabbed him?" I asked, surprised and shocked. How could Alexander possibly think that it would even enter either of our minds to go against him? When would we have the opportunity? And certainly it would mean our deaths if we were caught.

"He defied me. He did not think that I should have taken you from your family." I had to agree there.

"No one can defy you?" I asked as I took another cautious step closer. Still he hadn't moved. As I spoke, he looked at me briefly before looking down again at Heph.

"Anger and jealousy are such powerful, unreasoning emotions. I had forgotten the knife was in my hand. I will miss his observations and his judgments," he whispered. It was almost as if he wished he could take it back. A demon that feels remorse? I wondered astonished. With another cautious step, I was almost close enough to strike.

"Perhaps you will see him in the next life," I whispered. Then I leaped at his back, bringing the knife up and down, swiftly plunging it between his shoulder blade and spine. I skittered backwards just as quickly, but he didn't fall. He didn't even shout. Instead, he reached behind and easily twisted the knife up and out sending blood streaming down his back before turning to me, gripping the handle tightly with the dripping blade pointing towards me.

"You wanted him that badly?" he asked quietly. I shook my head beginning to back up again. The hard glint in his eye was gone, I saw, but anger was unmistakably shining through.

"Why then?" his jaw was clenched.

"Because of what you are. Demon!" I exclaimed.

He approached me, one deliberate step after another. I didn't run, after all where would I go? My back was pressed to the wall. No one would believe me. They would end by killing me just as quickly as he, for I had attacked the great Alexander after all. Treason. He reached me and put his hand around my throat, his thumb gently caressing the side under my ear, looking contemplatively into my eyes.

"You are a warrior?" he questioned, and I nodded in response. I was beginning to gasp for breath, adrenaline pumping through my veins absorbing my oxygen too quickly.

"Yet you did not use silver. Why not?" he wondered, lifting me slightly off the floor with the hand around my neck and giving me a little shake.

"I hoped that the dinner knife was silver," I croaked. I felt somewhat dizzy and started seeing spots.

"So you did not know to come prepared?" he still asked quietly.

"No, I only realized when I was standing next to you."

"I killed one of my best friends in a fight over a warrior," he said in shock and disbelief. "I shall have to decide on a suitable punishment for you." Even though he was looking at me, it was as if he didn't really see me. I had heard many stories of his ruthlessness and did not look forward to any punishment that he would mete out.

I started struggling, beating at him with my fists. As I struggled in vain, his hand tightened and breathing became more difficult, letting the blackness begin to close in. It was then that I brought my knee up sharply into his groin. The hard, murderous glint re-entered his eyes, and with the knife he had pulled from his back, he stabbed me in the gut.

"I'll make you suffer more the next time around," he promised, holding me up by the throat as he watched the light fade from my eyes.

* * * *

The Present

"That was the night that I could have taken your soul and been done with it. But I wanted to see you again," he sighed. "I told myself it was so that I could punish you for being the cause of my killing Heph, but that wasn't really it. That day in the cherry orchard, when you first looked at me, I saw the expression in your eyes change until you finally looked down and refused to look at me again. It began as a look of admiration until a spark of recognition lit your face and then disgust filled your eyes. I couldn't understand why that would be. I was a great leader...a great warrior and general. I had wealth, power, anything that I wanted. But I wanted what could not be demanded or bought, I wanted to see admiration in your eyes again," he paused remembering.

"I waited to call you to me because I was afraid. I was afraid of your revealing eyes. Eyes that I thought saw into my inner darkness. The night that I stabbed you, that was the night Alexander the Great also died. I couldn't understand what I was feeling. And that was part of it. I was actually feeling. Oh, I had felt anger before but not with such burning, which was nothing compared to the envy and jealousy I had experienced as you freely smiled at Heph. I was filled with loathing for him—he who was my best friend and confidant. But most of all I was feeling disgust. But what was that? I didn't understand," he paused thoughtfully. "Self-loathing I realized later.

"All my talks with Aristotle about philosophy and human nature were percolating through my mind...and love. I was...confused. All I was really sure of was that I had to get away from everything and everyone that I knew. I disfigured Heph and dressed him in my clothing and put your body and his in the bed together. I knew that no one would look closely at him because of the mutilations and Alexander the Great would be proclaimed dead." He stopped talking, looking at the ceiling as he lay back on the chaise remembering.

"I don't understand," I said. "Why would you give up all that wealth and power? You were the ruler of Asia and basically most of the known world."

"It meant nothing. I realized—your death made me realize—that it wasn't worth it. I had no one. There was no one that I wanted to share any of it with. No one really knew me. No one who would smile at me as you smiled at Heph. I was utterly alone. Had always been alone. And that made me so angry!" he smiled slightly. "I vowed that the next time around for you, I would find you, and I would punish you for making me realize that I would always be alone."

"And you did punish me," I put in softly, looking at the floor for a moment before glancing back up at him.

"Yes, I did," he said a little sadly closing his eyes. "And in the end I was the one punished the most."

"Ha, don't give me 'this is going to hurt me worse than you' bit. My dad used to try that on me when he'd spank me as a little kid. I didn't buy it then, and I certainly don't now." I was a little surprised at my outburst.

"You are so very young this time. You can't appreciate what time can do to you—endless days and endless nights, ceaselessly one after another. I am tired, Diana."

"Isn't there something you could do about that?"

Knowing I meant that he could easily die and the endlessness would stop, he smiled, but shook his head. "What makes it so unbearable is to always be alone."

At that moment, I felt there was a kinship between us, slight maybe, but there. Even though I had close friends, I still stood apart, alone, because of my dreams. I didn't date, didn't want to date any of the boys at my school. At some point I would have to share my nightly escapades, and I could picture the true nightmare of being laughed at and scorned. To be known as the freak. Some dreams I remembered had a very lonely, solitary feel to them.

The whole Storming of the Catacombs night took on a surreal quality...from entering the catacombs to the ending at Alex's apartment. I don't know at what point I actually fell asleep, but what I remember next was feeling the vibrating buzz of my cell alerting me to an incoming text.

AIRPORT NOW!!!

Wow! It was six o'clock in the morning! I looked around and saw that Alexander was asleep on the chaise across from the sofa. His face looked much younger in the relaxation of sleep. He looked to be about thirty-five, but I knew that he was in reality thousands of years old.

I went into the bathroom and changed into my jeans, carefully getting my boot back on my foot and only loosely fastening it around my injured calf. I kept only the dagger with me, leaving the rest of the weaponry, and went back into the living room and looked at Alex lying peacefully asleep.

He had killed me—over and over through I don't know how many centuries. I should kill him now while he's vulnerable, I thought, staring down at him. And I really did think about it. He was lonely. So what? Should it matter that he felt remorse for the pain he had caused me? At what point do you earn forgiveness? Is forgiveness something that is in fact earned? Did he even want forgiveness? Or was I more concerned with trust?

The only people I had ever truly trusted were Sam and Maggie. I was learning to trust my fellow warriors, but even they had seemingly abandoned me at the catacombs. The one who had saved me was a demon! Did I repay that by killing? It would be easy to jab him with the silver dagger I had stashed in my boot. But I had never killed anyone. The demons in that underground room had not looked completely human whereas Alex looked and acted human. Could I push the point of a dagger into his heart? Besides, was it just remorse or was there some other reason he had helped me this time? I thought of the time we had been together in Pompeii. I couldn't do it. I gave up and simply left.

##### 

## 13 David

When I first met Diana, I thought she might be cool. I really liked her boots. The other guys just seemed too old to be doing this anymore, and Helen looked like she'd cry if she broke a nail. I'd never heard of any gathering such as this before, and wondered why we'd all come together. As no one had seemed to know, I'd hoped that Diana would have something to tell us—which, of course, she had.

I'd been in Arizona along the Mexican border after leaving Baja, California, when I felt compelled to head to New York. I was working at a commercial construction site, left for lunch, got on my bike, and never looked back. I'd never felt anything like it, just had to go, and didn't even know how I knew to go to New York City. It was always that way for me, suddenly I would just know something.

I could always smell the demons, knowing that they were real long before I ever met one. As a child I slept with the light on, fearing the demons could be anywhere, close, in my room! The first time I saw one, I realized my mother had no idea what was going on and couldn't help. No one could help me.

* * * *

1992 CE

Pasadena, California—just another stop on the road for mom and her biker boyfriends. We moved around, a lot. Looking for an open drug store early one evening, I walked with mom down a mostly vacant sidewalk. I'd cut myself pretty good on some barbwire that had been rolled in some junk I'd been playing with near our mobile home. We needed some antiseptic, and I knew it would hurt more than my cut.

Then I smelled the stench. The word demon just popped into my head. Looking down the alley we were passing, I saw two figures amid the dumpsters pushed against dirty brick walls. They were close to each other, holding each other, swaying like dancers but without the music. Pointing down the alley, I asked in a low voice, "Hey mom, what're those guys doing?"

"I don't know honey." She didn't even look! Grown ups, I thought disgustedly. When she spoke I'd looked up at her, and she tugged at my hand to hurry me along, but when I looked in the alley again, I saw its eyes. The glittering hatred shined at me through the dim light. Demon! I gulped.

"Mom! I told you there were demons!" Even though I was trying to shout, just a whisper came out.

"What dear?"

"Mom look!" I was shaking her hand and pointing towards the alley, but she barely glanced to her left.

"Oh, they're just hugging hello. Now, come along. We have to get back home before Keith," she said and pulled me further along the sidewalk towards an Eckerd's Drug Store. I could see the demon giving me a gleaming hate filled smile as it hunched over the other figure, which had fallen to the ground. The bright lights inside the store were welcoming. It was difficult to head back into the night with my mom that day. I knew that the demon could be anywhere. Could be waiting for us...for me.

* * * *

The Present

Now here I was so many years later heading into the dark once again. I rubbed my sweating palms on my pants, my thighs tense as we entered the basilica.

After we entered, we all went our separate ways. Helen and I had split up too each taking one half of the level. The second level had a total of about three miles, the largest of the levels, which is why both Helen and I had taken it. It was quiet in the dark as I searched, peaceful, almost soothing; except for the whole demon thing.

The hollowed-out tunnel I traveled through was a massive grave. Bones stacked floor to ceiling, several layers deep. Someone had placed the skulls facing outward so it appeared they all stared at whoever walked the tunnel. I didn't think I would tell Sam how much they made my flesh creep, after all I had a rep to maintain with the teen.

I heard a scuffling sound behind me and turned. Several feet away, one set of bones stirred. I saw it was a demon with barely any flesh in a form similar to that of a skeleton. Tendons stretched as it rose to face me. Red eyes glinted from the skull. In the amber glow from the night vision glasses, the skeletal creature grinned, showing what I now saw were fangs. It was so skinny I worried a bullet would go straight through it, if I hit it at all. I didn't have time to hesitate.

As it ran straight at me, I pulled out my silver pocketknife. Its long, skinny arms surrounded me and I grabbed the back of its skull and plunged my knife into its eye socket, holding it there as it grappled with me. Within moments I held nothing but smoke. Then an explosion rocked the tunnel.

"Where's Diana?" I asked Sol as we emerged from the catacombs and approached the wall to get back out of the compound. I could see Jarret and Helen already waiting. He was covered in ash powder, as was I. When the explosion had first gone off, the wall I had been standing next to had slid downward as if it were a vertical waterfall, sending off billowy sprays of dust. Choking I had headed back the way I'd come, fearful of the roof coming down on me.

I hadn't seen anything but empty, dark tunnels except for the one demon. What kind of infestation could there be?

"I don't know. I didn't see her come out. I had hoped she made it out first," Sol said, his voice strained with pain.

"Who used the grenades?" I asked as we gathered at the rope ladder along the outer wall. Everyone shook a head in denial.

"It must have been Diana then," Jarret said.

"It didn't feel as if the explosion came from above me," I said.

"It felt as if I were close to it actually," Sol put in. "Part of the roof came down in a big chunk that nailed my foot." He'd been on the lowest level, I thought. He'd taken it thinking it would be the most heavily occupied.

"Maybe Diana found a shaft and dropped a grenade in," Helen said.

"So do we wait or go back in for her?" Jarret wanted to know. He was cradling his left arm, and blood was running down his face from a head wound. Helen had also been hurt, though not as severely, and Sol was limping badly because of his foot.

"You guys go on to the car, and I'll find her," I volunteered. I had sustained only some bruises from being knocked around after the explosion, so headed back to the basilica windows. As I bent down to go through, I noticed the rope ladder was missing. Then I saw Diana.

A man had his arm around her shoulders, helping her. She was moving with a hopping limp towards a far door, until the guy simply scooped her up in his arms. She looked like she'd taken quite a beating, and there was blood on both of them. I watched them go out and then headed back to the others. I saw that Sol had waited for me.

"She's okay. Some guy was helping her out."

"Maybe another of us felt compelled to be here," Sol suggested.

"Maybe." But I felt strangely anxious. "Let's go."

Sol made slow but steady progress getting to the top of the wall as his foot seriously impeded his movements.

"I think it's broken," he said when we reached the far side.

"Well, let's get it looked at," I said and went to join the others at the car. "No offense, but I think I'm in the best shape to drive," I told them, helping Sol into the front passenger seat. No one argued.

"I just want to go back to the hotel," Helen said as I slid behind the wheel.

"Where are you going after that?" Jarret wanted to know, but Helen just shrugged.

"I don't think it's a good idea for any of us to hang out in Rome," I put in. "There's a bad vibe going on here, and I think we should all leave...as quickly as possible." I could feel them all looking at me indecisively.

"Look, this just feels wrong. Something else is going on that we don't know about. We should leave while we still can. Why would so many demons congregate, and where were they? I only saw one, which is not much of an infestation. Okay, Diana tossed a couple of grenades, so she obviously ran into something, but what? Why just her? We need some answers, and we're not getting them here. We should go home—rethink this, plan some more, and then come back if necessary. That's all I'm saying."

I drove them to the Rome American Hospital, which was the closest medical facility to Helen's hotel.

"I've been thinking," Jarret said. "I'm headed back to the Light House. It's been my home for years anyway. Let's gather there. Take some time, heal up, and figure out what happened here."

"Sounds good to me, but I'm not going back to my hotel. I'm heading out now. I'll see you guys in New York," I said. I helped Sol and Jarret get settled in the ER, and then walked Helen back to her hotel.

"You think it will be all right for tonight?" she asked me. She looked around nervously at everyone we passed on the sidewalk. "Our flight leaves first thing in the morning."

"I think you'll be fine, but if you want, I'll stay until you leave." I didn't like it, but she did have the teenagers to worry about, and morning was only a couple of hours away.

"Thanks, I would really appreciate it," she said gratefully.

So we headed up to her suite where Sam and Maggie were waiting to pounce on us.

"Where's everyone else? Where's Diana? What happened?" Sam couldn't get the questions out quick enough. Maggie's eyes were big and worried, as we sat at the bar along the wall, which housed a mini-fridge and microwave.

"We left Sol and Jarret at the ER. They're okay, just banged up a bit. We're not sure about Diana, but David saw someone helping her. I'm sure she's fine," Helen said trying to calm them down.

"We got a text from her saying that she was okay and not to worry," Maggie put in. "But that was all, nothing more."

"That's good, I didn't get a good look at the guy helping her out. She was limping badly, but other than that, she looked okay," I told them.

"So what happened when you got there?" Sam wanted details.

Helen started, "Well, when we went in, Sol and Jarret headed to the lowest levels, while David and I went to the second level as planned. I only ran into one demon. It surprised me from an alcove. I just didn't see it—really stupid. It slammed me into the opposite wall before I could get my gun around. But fortunately, I was just bruised, nothing broken. I actually made it all the way around my section before the explosion occurred."

"Explosion?" Sam and Maggie chorused.

"Yes, we think Diana used a few grenades," I told them. "It effectively ended any searching, because we were afraid the roof was going to cave in. So we all got out and met up at the outer wall."

"Wow, for her to use a grenade, she must have been dealing with more than one demon," Sam stated. He and Maggie looked worried. But Sam patted Maggie's shoulder and added, "At least she sent us a text. We'll hear all the details on the flight home. If she doesn't make it here before we leave, she wants us to bring her stuff to the airport."

It was about three in the morning, so I suggested everyone try to get a little shuteye. I yawned stretching my arms at the same time.

"If you're staying and want to clean up, I think I have some clothes that might fit you," Sam offered.

"Sounds great. I'd love a shower," I said. I could still taste the gritty feel of dirt and ash on my tongue.

Helen smiled, "That sounds good to me too. I'll set the alarm for five-thirty. We need to be on the way to the airport by six. Night everyone."

When they left for the airport a couple of hours later, I said, "I'll see you at the Light House then." This life was certainly getting interesting. I'd had a few interesting lives. Of course, the fiasco at the catacombs was about the same as my fight with Goliath, in that it was easier than expected. The Israelites had been fighting with the Philistines in the Valley of Elah roughly three thousand years ago.

* * * *

1020 BCE

The smell of rain lingered in the air over the valley, as I walked up the narrow wooded path leading to the field where our men camped. I could hear the cries and moans from those who had been injured in the last battle, lying on the outskirts of the camp to either get well or die.

Occasionally, a family member would be near enough to come take care of the injured, but many of the men came from far provinces and were alone...and would die alone. In the clearing many tents were fashioned with wooden poles, cloth, and ropes. The smaller ones were nearest the edge and gradually got bigger towards the center of the circle, with the largest—King Saul's tent—in the very middle.

For forty days the giant Goliath had challenged the Israelites to send a champion out, so that single combat could determine the outcome of the battle. All feared to make the attempt to defeat such a large opponent, seemingly standing ten feet tall. Even King Saul was afraid. I was usually far from the battlefield being the youngest of seven brothers. This day I had brought food for my elder brothers.

"My thanks, David," Jesse said grabbing a chicken leg to chew on.

"You are welcome, brother. How goes the fight today?" I asked.

"Again, Goliath has challenged us, calling for a champion. That Philistine cannot be beaten, and all fear to confront him. Saul has promised to reward any man who defeats Goliath," Jesse added between bites.

"Why have you not volunteered to meet him on the battlefield?" I asked. I knew Jesse to be a brave and competent warrior.

"Have you not seen him? He stands two heads taller than any man on the field. A warrior cannot even get close enough to swing a blade," he said, astounded that I would even ask such a thing.

It was true though that I had not seen this Goliath with my own eyes. I would remedy that today. I exited the tent and went to the top edge of the hill that led down into the valley. Often it was where the commanders of our army stood to observe the battles.

And there he was. As Jesse had stated, he stood at least two heads taller than anyone around. One arm seemed almost as long as I was tall. He wore gold armor that sparkled from the sun bright enough to blind an opponent. His spear had a haft as thick as my forearm and the length of two men, one standing upon the head of the other. The spear tip was the size of my sword. A difficult opponent to be matched against, but not if one could stay out of his reach, I thought. I went to the king's tent and asked to speak to King Saul.

When I entered, the tent was full of generals, and it was clear that they'd been discussing battle strategy. In the corner sat the harp that I would occasionally play for Saul when he was not feeling well. I would be called in from the fields to go to the king. My playing soothed him he said and allowed him to think more clearly.

"Sire, I wish to accept the challenge of Goliath on the battlefield tomorrow," I said in way of greeting.

"What?" Saul, as well as the others, was astounded.

"I will fight Goliath," I restated standing as straight as I could. I knew that they thought I was too young. After all, they had me herding sheep rather than fighting.

"While I appreciate your offer young David, I cannot allow you to fight him. You would surely be slaughtered."

"You have no other who is willing," I stated with confidence.

"While that is true, you are too important to your king to chance your inevitable death at the hands of the Philistine," Saul said.

"Sire, I mean no disrespect, but I will fight Goliath." At my statement, there was a general mulling of conversation in which I heard words about my youth, anger, and strength. At last Saul reluctantly agreed that I should face Goliath and even offered me his own armor. I declined. If I was close enough that I needed armor, I was too close.

Instead I chose to take only my sling. I used it, and my bag of stones, every day to keep the wolves from the sheep. One of them was a special silver stone. Only a demon could look the way Goliath did.

The next morning, when Goliath stepped forth from the Philistine army and offered his challenge, I went out to meet him. He grinned in anticipation.

"I shall cut you down Israelite, drink your blood, and eat your soul," he laughed.

"This day, the Light has delivered you into my hand, and I shall strike you down," I responded with certainty.

He paused momentarily at my words but then started for me with a challenging roar. I stood my ground and started swinging my sling. When he was in range, I hurled the silver stone with all my might. It hit Goliath in the very center of one of his eyes and sank in. At the impact, his head snapped backward, and as he was in the middle of a stride, his legs splayed outward at different angles when he went down.

I ran to him, pulling a small silver knife that was only three inches long from my belt. I jabbed it into his forearm just for good measure. It took longer than usual for the demon to start to smoke. I'm not sure if it was the size or just that it was a small amount of silver. Either way, when Goliath finally started to smoke, and at long last disappeared, the Philistine army panicked and fled into the surrounding hills while the Israelites cheered.

* * * *

The Present

The ease in which we had left the catacombs bothered me. It reminded me too strongly of the ease of defeating Goliath. The problem of Goliath had seemed enormous but had a remarkably easy solution. The catacombs too seemed complicated. But when we had gotten there expecting an enormous opposition, we found very little. It left me uneasy.

Thinking of Goliath always led to thinking of Bathsheba. Of course, I had defeated Saul and become king by the time she entered my life. That was when I learned the moral and ethical lessons of having too much pride and coveting what wasn't mine. It was true that power corrupts even the most incorruptible of souls. The punishment of having my kingdom ripped apart by my son, Absalom, who led an insurrection, plunging the kingdom into civil war, did not force me to regret my actions with regard to Bathsheba. Now, every life I live, I long for her. Never satisfied with anyone else because of her.

* * * *

982 BCE

The leaves had blossomed forth from the cherry trees, and I should have been with the army. Instead I stayed in Jerusalem having enough of war for a time. It was on a warm spring day when I finally saw Bathsheba. I was walking the palace roof considering leaving, when I looked down to see her bathing in the courtyard of her home. As the granddaughter of Ahithophel, my favorite counselor, I had naturally seen her before, but not like this. I knew at that moment that I had to have her and ordered her brought before me.

"Sire, you sent for me." Bathsheba stood there at last, but as I rose and went to stand before her smiling, I caught a whiff of a faint odor that, though mingled with cinnamon, could not be mistaken. When I paused, I saw fear widen her eyes at my expression. She knew I recognized what she was.

"You are a demon!" I fairly shouted at her. It could not be! I would have to kill her now.

"Yes, sire, but I have not harmed anyone for many, many years. I wish only to live in the Light. Please do not banish me to the Dark!" She begged, clutching at my arm. And standing there, staring into her eyes, I knew that I would not be able to kill her—to see that spark dissapate into the Dark. I wanted her too much.

"You will have to stay with me then," I told her brusquely. "So that I can make sure you harm no one."

"But, sire, I am married to Uriah the Hittite, one of your mighty men. When he is home as he is now, I must be with him." The men rotated home to be able to spend time with their families. I was going to return to the battle with the next group of men. Now I would not be able to leave her.

"I will send for Uriah. You are to settle in my chambers. I will be with you soon."

When Uriah stood before me at last in his stiffened leather armor, I gave him a message for my generals. Though he did not know it, he carried his own death sentence. In the note I ordered my generals to place Uriah on the front lines—and to abandon him to the enemy.

What was it about her that lured me? She was extraordinary with her long, black hair, dark eyes, and olive complexion, but it was something almost indefinable that appealed to me. Some inner peace and strength she possessed that drew me to her side. It was so strong that I committed murder to be with her...a crime that I have regretted almost from that day forward. But at first I was only pleased to be able to marry her and have her bear my children. I had other children, but the son Bathsheba and I produced was to be king after me. Solomon. 

## 14 Solomon

The hospital's emergency room was similar to ones in the United States. The main room's walls were bordered with dark blue plastic chairs. They were welded together on a metal base in rows containing four at a time, separated by a small square table. Then placed in the center of the room two rows of the chairs back to back. Behind a tall desk, a receptionist guarded a set of double doors leading to the area everyone wanted to get to—the one with the doctors and the curtained beds.

The waiting area contained about ten people, and the nurse said that it might be up to two hours before my foot could be x-rayed. I was certain it was broken—too many broken bones in my lives not to know the feeling. Jarret and I cleaned up as best we could in the men's room and then settled down to wait in a quiet corner of the room.

"David's right," Jarret said still holding his arm close to his body. "Something's off with this whole setup."

"I agree, but what could we do? We had to go in, and there really were demons there."

"How many other warriors do you remember meeting?" he asked me.

"I can think of two. I never saw anything like this until New York. How about you?"

"Well, I really don't remember anything at all. I met Diana and helped her defeat a demon, so she explained everything to me. She's the one who sent me to the Light House. Since then nothing."

"You don't remember anything?" It was a strange thought.

"No, nothing. If I hadn't met Diana, I never would have known about demons."

"Then how do you know you're a warrior?" He ran the risk of losing his soul without the potential reward of being reborn. Reward? Perhaps his returning to the Light would be the true reward.

"Well, Diana left a diary in the house. During the life in which she bought it, she said that she didn't remember anything about previous lives. A fortune teller actually told her she'd been reborn, and that she was about to die again. The woman told her that her life was a life in which she was to rest from the struggle."

"And she believed her?" My mother had enjoyed the gift of foresight, and until people began to fear her, they would come for miles around to speak with her.

"Yes, apparently the woman knew something no one else could've known. So Diana started researching reincarnation, ESP and such. She believed the fortune teller so implicitly that she set the Light House up so that any Diana could have access to it. Well, she set up some restrictions, but it was to be carried on so that she could get to it in any of her next lives.

"So you think this is your time to rest?"

"What else could it be?" Jarret asked. "Otherwise, I'm just your average Joe who happens to know a little too much about demons. Besides, I'd really like to think that if I die fighting them, then I'll be reborn to try again, you know?" He smiled at me.

"Just an FYI, but you're not resting much." I returned the smile. I hadn't known him long but I felt a sense of kinship with him. It was strange, this feeling of having known him before. Perhaps I had. I had the same sense with David. But surely he wasn't who I thought. If he was, wouldn't I have recognized him right away? My memories seemed different from the other warriors. I remembered decades of some lives and then some lives the memories almost always focused on military actions, strategy, and battles. It had made me an excellent marine. It was strange, this life of being a warrior for the Light.

"I know. Now, why the catacombs?" he wondered. It certainly did make one think.

"Yes, tourists go there but not by the droves. Besides the tourists couldn't be killed then and there, or the catacombs would be shut down. So bodies have been turning up periodically over an extended period of time in that general vicinity, not necessarily at the catacombs," I said.

"Not often enough to draw suspicion in the ordinary course of events, until a curious reporter started an investigation," said Jarret.

"Yes, and from the reporter's articles, a bishop at the Vatican, who just happened to have survived a demon attack, puts the signs together and calls for help."

"Plus, it was that same bishop who turned the Catacombs of St. Domitilla over to those monks Helen went to see. It seems a little too connected, if you know what I mean," he added thoughtfully.

"Right, because he doesn't tell someone how to go kill a demon, instead he seems to want actual warriors," I said in agreement.

After a moment of contemplation, I added, "I've felt all along that this situation was too carefully orchestrated. Like we were walking into a trap. That's why I didn't want anyone to know about us. Bishop Soratino only knew about Diana, and she told him that she wasn't going in for a day or two because she had to prepare, get weapons and such."

I knew all about traps, considering I had been caught in several. Of course, the actual catacombs themselves had reminded me of a much more elaborate maze through which I had hunted a demon once.

* * * *

962 BCE

I was in Daedalus' workshop, which was a confusing and amazing spectacle, full of various tools, mysterious artifacts, and half finished statues—one of Daedalus himself, looking upward mournfully. How had he created such expression in stone? I wondered as I examined it. I realized it appeared to have eyeballs underneath the eyebrows. Fascinating.

A long, bench-like table lined the far back wall with stacks of wood and blocks of stone set underneath, chisels and hammers lying on top amidst bits and pieces of metal and other, unknown debris. On the right side of the room as you entered it, three enormous windows stretching from floor to ceiling allowed sunlight to blaze in. The light only blocked by an enormous model of half a ship with a new front being assembled.

To the left, a cot was set up in the corner where Daedalus would nap, as he never knew at what time inspiration would strike or leave, and he was wont to spend many hours at any time of day or night within his workshop. Nearby a couple of chairs were placed conveniently close by.

On the final wall leading away from the cot towards the workbench, many hooks were placed from which hung various items, but what was most amazing—a pair of giant bird wings. One was just a wooden outline suggesting a falling teardrop, but the other was covered with actual feathers attached by what felt like beeswax as I ran my fingers gently over a few.

In the very center of the room hung a massive, metal column, which hovered over a stone furnace in order to expel the smoke and hot gases.

"I have finished," Daedalus stated that fine, sunny day. "The Minotaur was guided into the Labyrinth this morning."

"I am too late to help you then?" I asked him, and he nodded. The entire Mediterranean area had heard of the monster on the island of Crete. Appearing at Knossos, it had killed many men—every man that had attacked it, in fact. My friend Daedalus had been called on to build an elaborate maze, a labyrinth, to house the creature that was half bull and half human—a demon, I felt sure.

King Minos did not want to incur the wrath of the gods, so rather than killing it outright, he wanted to imprison it. Of course, the idea of imprisoning it only occurred to him after first attempting to kill the Minotaur, as they called it, and all the weapons used had been ineffective.

Several men had tried cutting it down with swords, but they did not realize that the weapon that needed to be used was silver. With that knowledge, I had arrived on Crete with the intention of attacking and killing the creature. But the king's decree that the creature be imprisoned instead of killed somewhat hampered me. He had set guards around the area where the demon was corralled, and I couldn't get to it. The king did not want any more soldiers dying in vain.

"How did you get the creature to go in voluntarily?" I wondered aloud.

"We sent seven male virgins into the underground maze to await it. Then seven female virgins spread out to entice the Minotaur to the entrance and on into the Labyrinth. The king decreed that the Athenians must provide the sacrifice for their role in his son's death."

Minos' son, Androgeus, excelled at the games put on by Aegeas of Athens. He won every contest. In a fit of jealousy, the other contestants had killed Androgeus. In his anger, Minos declared war on Athens. Minos finally offered peace to Athens, but only if they would send seven virgin girls and seven young men to satisfy the Minotaur's hunger. Virgins were considered pure and, therefore, closer to the gods. They make the most suitable sacrifice to the gods with such purity.

"How do you expect the Minotaur to remain within the Labyrinth? Won't it just leave?" I asked him.

"My friend, that maze is so complex that I almost could not find my way out, and I designed it! There are multiple levels, stairs to nowhere, tunnels that end in dead end rooms. Now that the creature is within, it will not be able to find its way out again."

"What about killing it?" I asked him.

"King Minos fears the gods' wrath. Besides, the creature has been impossible to kill. Many young men have tried and failed. But I hear that one has come from Athens, one Theseus. He swears he will kill it and find his way out again."

"But you do not think he will be successful. What makes him so confident?"

"I hear he has the favor of the king's daughter, Ariadne. The story is that when she first saw him, she swooned for love of him. He has vowed to marry her when he returns from the Labyrinth." Men do the most dangerous exploits to impress women. I shook my head in disgust.

I saw Theseus the next day in the market square as a crowd gathered around him escorting him to the labyrinth, so I followed. As we approached the entrance, Ariadne waited for him with a huge ball of red yarn sitting upright upon a large wooden dowel, which she had spun.

"Take this end," she said, "and as it unwinds you will be able to follow it back out." Clever, I thought, such a simple solution for such a complex problem. For weapons, I noticed that Theseus had a regular sword and shield. All the courage—or stupidity—in the world would not win him this battle.

"Theseus, would you care for some company?" I asked him. I had seen many men before they entered battle, and Theseus had courage, but his demeanor also portrayed uncertainty. He nodded in thankfulness at my suggestion without speaking. Not bothering with a shield, simply holding my sword—that had a silver coated tip—and gathering several torches, I entered the Labyrinth with Theseus.

I immediately saw Daedalus' handiwork in the maze, for the tunnel immediately split off into three choices. Lifting my nose, I inhaled trying to determine the best course by scent. It seemed to me the stench was strongest to our right and gestured with my sword in that direction.

"What say you to this way?" I asked.

"One is just as good as another I suppose," he agreed, and we headed into the darkness with just the flickering torch for light. The tunnel was not smooth but rough hewn, with no identifying marks, and barely tall enough for us to stand upright. It soon branched yet again but this time in a Y formation. Without asking, my nose directed me, and I led us to the left branch. It soon led to a square room with two other doorways and a staircase in a center well.

"Let's try downward," Theseus suggested, and so we headed lower. We wandered ever deeper, choosing random lefts and rights, going down and up various staircases, searching dead ends and rooms placed haphazardly about, until I knew that the only way we would be able to find the exit would indeed be with Ariadne's string. But as we went deeper, the smell of the Minotaur got stronger.

"There, did you hear that?" Theseus finally asked. So we stopped, holding our breath as we listened and sure enough, I heard the sound of hooves scrapping against stone.

"To our right here, I think," I said.

"Light another torch so that we will be able to see more," Theseus recommended, and I immediately did so, as I could tell from the smell that we were close.

"Be ready," I whispered.

At last we came upon the beast in a room that had a doorway in each wall. The Minotaur was in the sunken center where steps made suitable benches for either sitting or lying. Theseus dropped the end of the string at the door through which we entered, and I tossed the torches, one to the left and one to the right. The bull head gave a massive, ear shattering roar that echoed around the cave walls. It paced up the steps and then pawed at the ground with a foot, snorting and clenching its hands into fists.

It charged, bending at the waist so that its horns would impale us if they connected. Theseus went for the frontal assault, slicing at the curved horns, whereas I stepped around and drove my sword tip with its silver coating into its unprotected back. The Minotaur screamed another roar rearing backward trying to dislodge the sword to no avail. Soon it started to smoke and shake, falling to the ground as it did so and finally bursting into black ichor and smoke. My sword clattered to the stone floor. Theseus had been knocked down in the struggle, but was getting to his feet as the Minotaur disappeared.

"The gods have reclaimed their creature it appears," he said.

* * * *

The Present

The Catacombs of St. Domitilla were not as elaborate or complicated as Daedalus' Labyrinth, yet it had posed its own challenges. But as a simple ball of string was the answer to the Labyrinth's puzzle, so I felt that the demons of the catacombs also had an answer that would be equally as simple, if we could just figure it out.

A nurse called for Jarret, and I was alone for a time. While there had not been a time when so many warriors had come together, I could think of at least one time when there had been more than just one demon about...many more.

* * * *

950 BCE

I was Solomon, King of Israel, son of David, a warrior for the Light, and my mother, Bathsheba, was a demon. You are supposed to love your mother, or at least honor her, and I did. But I grew to manhood watching as she never aged, it was unnerving. When people began to ask questions, something had to be done. While she had never harmed anyone, they feared her.

At the time of this unrest, another demon came to Jerusalem, one Asmodeus. He smelled unlike my mother. He was a foul, loathsome creature. I found him with her one day in the garden.

"You must not stay here. He is a warrior and will kill you." I heard my mother say.

"I heard that you have control of him. You have only to tell him to leave me be," a strange male voice responded to her. I came around the edge of the concealing shrub and greeted them.

"Good morning, my mother. How are you today?"

"Solomon, my son, I am well, thank you," she looked a little sick actually. "Let me introduce you to Asmodeus. He comes to us from a far eastern province." It was at that moment I smelled him. Bathsheba had explained that she was a demon, and as her son, I was a warrior.

She told me that she had changed. Not having killed anyone for centuries, she had gained her humanity—or something close to it, she thought. As she chose not to kill any more, I chose not to kill her. It seemed that the closer a demon came to gaining humanity, the less foul it smelled. Asmodeus reeked! Obviously he still consumed the souls of those he killed.

"What would you do here, creature?" I asked in anger, my fist tightening around the dagger at my waist.

"What I will, warrior, or it will be the worse for you." He raised a hand and upon snapping his fingers together, three black-cloaked creatures materialized from elsewhere in the garden. I took a step backward in astonishment, drawing my dagger.

"It will not be you we attack, warrior, but your sweet mother here. I think you would not be able to defeat us before we had torn her to shreds. What do you think?" he asked as if mildly amused at some slight joke. "Or perhaps someone more close to you." At his next gesture another demon appeared, pulling Naamah with a grip that had drawn blood around her wrist. She was a daughter of an Ammonite king given to me to unite our peoples but whom I loved more than my own life. I took a step towards her, anger boiling in me at the thought of her being injured.

"Easy, King Solomon, you would not wish to see her more permanently harmed, would you?" Asmodeus held up his hand in warning, stopping me. "Now, we should just have a little mutual understanding. We want a new home, and Jerusalem seems to suit us. As long as you do not interfere, your loved ones shall remain unharmed. But should you attempt to kill one of us, then we start with your mother and lovely Naamah here," he stroked his hand down her beautiful face as he spoke, and Naamah cringed away, her black hair swinging down her back. Laughing, Asmodeus waved at the demon holding her to release her, and she ran over to my side, tiny and fragile in comparison with her head only reaching my heart.

"Go tend your wound," I said looking at her wrist. "I will be with you shortly." When she had left, I looked at my mother who shrugged helplessly at our predicament.

"Now, I think we need a new home and feel that the temple you have built will suit us well. We shall move in shortly, and you will not interfere in any way," he said in satisfaction, and in defeat, I knew that I would obey. I could not risk either my mother or my beloved wife. The temple he spoke of had been started by my father and was to house the Ark of the Covenant. It was only months from completion.

The demons left, and I went to check on Naamah, trying to decide the best course of action. Finally, I settled on at least sending her away so that I only had to worry about my mother.

Naamah had been gone a week when two demons showed up dragging her to me in the garden once more. This time she was covered in gashes and smudged with dirt, her hair tangled with twigs. She was thrown down at my feet and lay prostrate, sobbing as Asmodeus approached and said, "Send her away again and she will not return to you alive."

For the next few months, my people were terrorized by mysterious killings that they correctly attributed to demons. Finally, Bathsheba came to me and said, "Son, it will take both of us to kill them."

"What do you mean, Mother?" I asked in astonishment.

"There are too many for a single warrior. What we must do is arm your men with silver tipped arrows and spread them around the Temple. Then as they come out to feed in the evening, the demons can be picked off, one at a time from whichever direction they emerge. When that is done, the two of us can enter the temple and confront Asmodeus." It was a sound plan, well thought out, and we put it into action a week later. Only the best archers in the army were chosen and sworn to secrecy. As night was falling, the demons came out and one by one were shot with the arrows. My mother's plan...so far successful. We entered the temple knowing that one of us probably would not come out. I like to think that I was willing to sacrifice myself for her, but I wanted to survive...I wanted us both to survive.

The temple had a huge ceremonial room set up to house and honor the Ark. I knew that is where the "king" demon would be satisfying his pride, arrogance, and belief in his superiority. He was on his way up the stairwell when our presence surprised him. As he looked at us, he seemed to sense that he was on his own and fled downward. In an effort to slow him down, Bathsheba threw a silver dagger at his back, but it missed, just seeming to slice his arm as he rounded a corner. Unfortunately, that was the last we saw of him. He simply disappeared.

For years I watched over Naamah and Bathsheba, fearing Asmodeus' return, but he never did so. Though demons did turn up much more frequently, and stories began to circulate about my abilities to control them. Even though they had sworn secrecy, the attack on the demons became common knowledge though somewhat confused and missing the essential details. Some said that my ring with its silver six-pointed star, which became known as the Star of David, gave me power over the demons and caused them to bow down before me in fear.

* * * *

The Present

After getting my foot set, I staggered out on crutches to find Jarret waiting for me. His arm was in a cast, and he had bandages stuck over the most severe lacerations on his face. Strangely there were little bits of plaster everywhere, especially in his hair. I started laughing as soon as I saw him, finally doubling over and having to find a seat wheezing.

"All right, take it easy," he said, starting to chuckle too. "There was an accident with the plaster when they were working on my arm."

"I'll say."

"I waited for you. I thought we could catch the train together," he suggested.

"Yes, that sounds good. With your arm and my leg, we make one good person between us. So let's go."

We emerged from the emergency room to greet the rising sun, the end of a long, dark night chased away by the light.

##### 

## 15 Flight Home

As I got in a grungy cab outside of Alex's apartment, its seats torn and wadded-up fast food wrappers all over the back floorboard, my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Diana, this is Bishop Soratino." What was he doing calling me at six-thirty in the morning?

"Hey, Bishop Soratino," I said with surprise evident in my voice. I didn't remember giving him my cell number.

"I hope I did not wake you," he said hesitatingly.

"Umm, no, as a matter of fact I've always been a very early riser," I responded. "Is everything okay?"

"Well, there appears to have been some trouble at the catacombs last night. I was told there was an earthquake that caused quite a bit of damage."

"An earthquake?" I asked with genuine surprise in my voice and then realized, oh yeah, I must have been the earthquake. Who would have thought grenades would be mistaken for an earthquake?

"Yes, so as today is Friday and you had told me that you were going into the catacombs today, I wanted to warn you that it would be blocked off. You won't be able to get near it with the clean-up crew about," he really sounded aggravated about that, but I was just glad I didn't have to go back...hopefully ever.

"Well, if there's that much damage, maybe there's no need for me to go there at all. What do you think?" I grabbed for the door handle as the cab took a corner so fast I was flung across the seat!

"I am afraid only time will tell, young lady, but I will certainly call on you again should the need arise."

"Sure, just let me know."

He wished me well and hung up as I was arriving at the airport. I felt relief I didn't have to tell him that I was on my way to the airport and never intended to go to the catacombs today. What was the punishment for lying to a bishop? I shuddered to think.

Clearing customs fortunately didn't take as long as it could have as I had no luggage. Boarding was complete as I reached the tunnel connecting the building to the plane. They closed the door behind me—last one on-board. Whew, I'd made it! I was glad that Sam and Maggie had brought my bag for me. As soon as we were airborne, I was going to change!

We were sitting in first class fortunately with its wide, comfortable seats, only being so lucky because the business class had been sold out when we'd purchased our tickets. When they saw me come aboard, Sam got up from the seat next to Maggie and moved to sit with Helen so that I could take his place, both of us needing some girl time together. I smiled in gratitude, and he gave me a thumbs up. Helen had a look of strain and worry on her face when I first appeared, but seeing me, she smiled in relief and leaned back to close her eyes. I guess we were all pretty tired.

"So what happened to you?" Maggie asked as soon as I'd sat down to fasten my seat belt. I gestured for her to slide the shade down over the window—the morning sun was still too bright for me.

"You're not going to believe it, Mags," I said. "But Alex showed up." She gasped and put her hand over her mouth.

"I know. I felt the same way," I said. "But he ended up helping me. I wouldn't have been able to get out of there without him, and then he patched me up." I swung my leg back and forth showing her the tears in the calf of my jeans. The pants were black so at least the blood didn't show. As we taxied out to the runway and lifted off, I filled her in on my adventure, if you could call it that, with Alex.

"Did you bring my backpack with my clean clothes? I really have to get out of these things." I asked her as soon as we were in the air. At her nod, I got the pack and hit the extremely tiny restroom to change. How did Superman manage it in a phone booth? I sighed in relief as I exited the stall, feeling better immediately. When I returned to my seat, Maggie was asleep, her head leaning against the wall of the plane cushioned only by a tiny pillow. I thought that was a really great idea, and it seemed as if I'd just sat down, when I too fell asleep.

* * * *

1912 CE

I was so tired—sick really. My latest wounds had exhausted me. So a trip to America on the RMS Titanic seemed ideal. It would give me time to rest and recuperate. After settling the luggage in my cabin, a deck chair in the sun called my name to come stretch out for a nap. I found a secluded, little nook, gave a big sigh, and closed my eyes just when the light was suddenly blocked.

"Diana?" When I opened my eyes, a man stood near me with his back to the sun casting his face in shadow. He moved to sit on the deck chair next to mine as I shaded my eyes with my hand and squinted; and my heart actually stopped beating for a few seconds before it sputtered back into a racing sprint. Alexander. Unbelievably, he was before me. Not just found me but also recognized me!

"How did you know?" It just popped out confirming my identity before I even thought to try subterfuge.

"You look virtually identical to the last time we were together, so I knew it had to be you." He actually smiled at me. I took a deep, steadying breath. Well, I thought resignedly, I guess I won't be making it to thirty this lifetime either.

"Look, Alexander, I'm not here for you. And I'll be honest, I'm tired and injured so, if you want to kill me, go ahead. I won't even fight back. Just do me a favor for old times sake and make it as quick and as painless as possible...if you would. Please." His smile faded as I spoke, and he looked toward the ocean for a moment, contemplating, before he turned back to me.

"Diana, I am sorry for what I've done to you in the past. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I truly am. I'm not here to hurt you—I won't ever hurt you again." His blunt declaration rang with sincerity and conviction.

"Well, that's...different but somehow I just do not believe you," I paused. "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play, but I'm not up for it this time. I'm too tired. So, if you're not going to kill me, please just leave me alone."

"If that's what you want," he said no longer looking at me but at his feet.

"Yes, that's what I want. I just want to rest and find some peace." Of course, I would never find peace now that I knew he was on board, but surprisingly he nodded, though I thought there might have been pain in his eyes, and walked away. Relief rippled through me but napping on deck now seemed like a really bad idea, so I went back to my cabin to rest before dinner.

My cabin had a velvet wall covering on the top half and dark wood, raised paneling below. My bed to the left of the door was a single bed attached to the wall but with a canopy hanging down from the ceiling on the two open edges. I had a lovely little table with two padded sitting chairs with oak arms and a sweet tiny reading lamp below a large rectangle window—only the finest for a first class passenger.

Later I put on one of my two evening dresses—I had a limited wardrobe due to my many travels—choosing the creamy satin that was trimmed with chiffon and lace and had a black cummerbund of silk velvet. It draped with the remembrance of an ancient Roman goddess and was my favorite.

I went to the first class dining salon, often referred to as the Jacobean Room. Columns in the middle of the room were embellished with Flemish scrolls, and the walls contained ornately carved panels, giving the room a decidedly formal atmosphere.

As I entered through the double doors leading from D deck, I saw twenty, linen dressed, rather substantial, round tables in the room. All the chairs looked stiff with split spindles and carved feet. A steward came forward to show me to a table with only one remaining seat near to the captain's table, and I wished I felt more surprised to find Alexander already there. He smiled an engaging, handsome grin as I approached.

"Diana, good evening," he greeted me as he stood to hold my chair out for me. Ever the gentleman until he rammed a knife in my gut, I thought somewhat bitterly.

"Oh y'all have already met," an older, dark haired woman sitting to his other side said.

"Yes, we met earlier today on deck," he answered her with a warning look at me. He made the introductions all around the table. Molly Brown sat to his left, and continuing around the circle, Harry and Lucinda Winston, and George Titan.

"Well, where ya from dearie?" Molly asked. "I hail from Texas, and we're big and loud there so don't mind me none."

"I'm most recently from Ireland. I have family in Queenstown, and since that was Titanic's last port of call before heading to America, I thought I would enjoy a trip on such a new and magnificent ship."

"Ireland? I've just been taking care of business in Belfast," George said.

"What kind of business are you in Mr. Titan?" I asked him.

"The shipbuilding kind, but please call me George," he smiled suggestively at me. Because I travel alone, men often think I am a certain kind of woman. I sighed. I hoped he wouldn't become a bother.

"Well, I think because we're on this tiny boat there's no room for pomp, so I only call people by their first names," Molly put in with a loud laugh. Some people from other tables looked our way, and I saw Lucinda Winston cringe slightly at what she obviously considered poor table etiquette.

"Shipbuilding? Did you have anything to do with this lovely ship?" Lucinda Winston asked of George.

"Yes, my company assisted in finishing many of the areas of the ship. The captain will be taking a group on a tour tomorrow if any of you are interested in joining us."

"I say, that sounds fascinating if it will include the bridge," Harry put in.

"But of course the bridge will be included."

As the men continued to talk about the ship and the bridge in particular, it gave me time to think about Alexander. Details were percolating up in my mind about him. The last I remembered of him, he'd burned me at the stake. We had been in England sometime in the late 1500's. We were married, I'm not sure for how long, not more than a couple of years surely, but I knew that we'd had a child, a girl. I wondered what had become of her. Had he killed her too?

I wasn't afraid while we were at dinner. I mean, what could he do right there unless he tried to slip some poison in my water. I placed my glass on the opposite side from him. I could enjoy the company and conversation without fear of dying. And I did. We all agreed to go on the tour with George as we finished dinner. Alexander stood and helped me with my chair as we rose to leave and put his hand under my elbow to guide me out the door to the deck.

The night air was cool, and I shivered slightly. He removed his dinner jacket and put it around my shoulders.

"No, thank you, I must be getting back to my cabin," I said trying to give it back to him, but he held it to my shoulders with his hands.

"Nonsense. You're just afraid to be alone with me. You don't need to be, you know."

I can't explain it, but I just felt like giving up. I was too tired to struggle so instead asked him, "What happened to Gabrielle after I...died?"

"She never took to me, you know, and your mother, at the time, requested that Gabrielle live with her. I think she was quite happy for a time, but she lost a child and became unhinged. She was present during a fight and died while trying to protect her husband."

"How sad."

We walked quietly for a time around the deck. I expected to feel some nervousness, but there was just a calmness between us, me in his jacket and his guiding hand lightly on the small of my back. He began asking me about my travels, where I'd been and what I'd thought of the places, comparing notes as usually he'd been there as well. Before I knew it, an hour had passed, and I was yawning impolitely.

"I must retire before I fall asleep on my feet," I laughed in surprised.

"I'll escort you to your cabin," he offered.

"No, really it's not necessary. Here's your jacket. Thank you for the loan of it." Shrugging it off, I handed it to him as we paused by the doors.

"Very well, I wish you a good night," he said, taking my hand and gently kissing my fingers. I could still feel the press of his lips on my hand as I crawled into bed later that night.

The next morning I wore a light yellow, deep-V neck blouse with a cream camisole peaking out and a dark red skirt ending just at my ankles. Before going into breakfast, I headed for the Reading Room, which was located on the Upper Promenade Deck. I entered the room through a large arched opening. It was bright with sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows flanked by long curtains along one wall.

The other walls were creamy white with moldings arranged in long rectangles and squares interspersed with ornate wall sconces. Various stuffed chairs were placed along the walls. Surrounding a center column under crystal enclosed lighting, there was an encircling tufted, bench seat.

George Titan sat facing the doorway on the bench reading a newspaper. He glanced up, smiled in welcome when he saw me, and folded his paper.

"Good morning, Diana. It is almost time for the morning meal," he said heartily. When Lucinda and Harry Winston also joined us, I thought, So much for a peaceful morning.

"At ten o'clock the captain is going to escort us around the ship," George was saying as I saw Alexander appear in the doorway, handsome in his gray, cuffed trousers and pin-stripped jacket. He looked over at me and smiled in greeting, his eyes lighting up. I couldn't help it...I smiled back.

At the end of breakfast, we all agreed to meet George and Captain Smith at the grand staircase an hour later. George recommended that we all wear sturdy shoes to tramp around the ship.

After being introduced to the Captain, he began the tour by telling us such mundane details as to the tonnage and how the ship was built. I didn't listen. Alexander and I were the last in line slightly trailing the group. He had taken my hand and put it through the crook of his arm leaving one hand on mine. He then began amusing me by giving me fake details in a whisper close to my ear.

"And here we have a hand carved deck chair that only holds one ton. Look closely and you will see the weight restriction sign stating 'No Fatheads: George get off.'"

"Sshhh," I held my finger to my mouth trying to hush him but also trying to stifle my giggles. George was pretty full of himself and annoyingly condescending. "This is serious."

Later as we passed one of the lifeboats on the way to the bridge, Harry began asking questions about them.

"There are twenty lifeboats situated on the ship," the captain told him.

"Which boat would we go to if there were an emergency?" Lucinda asked.

"Not to worry, my dear, this ship was built so that it would not sink. In fact, we reduced the number of lifeboats from thirty to twenty because they would have uselessly cluttered up the decks."

"How many people can actually fit in a lifeboat?" Harry asked.

"That depends on the particular lifeboat. Some of them hold up to seventy."

"But even if you counted seventy per boat, that would only hold 1400 people. Aren't there over two thousand on board?" George asked. Maybe not such a fathead, I looked at Alexander with a smirk and he lifted one shoulder in response.

"The lifeboat capacity is actually 1,178 people," the captain responded.

"But that means there aren't enough lifeboats," Lucinda glanced worriedly at Harry.

"Not to worry, my dear, this ship is absolutely unsinkable!" The captain reassured us as we entered the bridge.

After that first evening and the tour, I seemed to run into Alexander wherever I went. Was it planned? He was an amusing companion, intelligent, eager to please, and if I hadn't known better, I would have said that he was courting me. We ate every meal together, walked, danced, and talked. Oh my how we talked. And I gradually lost my fear of him. I just decided that if he killed me, so be it. I wasn't going to worry about anything for the moment. It felt good to live without fear. It felt wonderful not to have to hide what I did. I didn't have to lie about where I lived, my family or lack thereof. I felt comfortable. I felt like I had come home—not home to a place but to a person.

Then late in the evening of April 14, 1912, I opened my eyes to a muted light shining from a lamp. The last thing I remembered was sitting next to Alexander on the sofa in his suite after dinner. We had sat for a time on the private promenade deck attached to his sitting room. His bedroom was entered through the door next to the fireplace across from where we were on the sofa. There was also a table and chairs that had easily accommodated our lively game of Rook earlier in the evening with Lucinda and Harry Winston. The wall next to the deck was full of large windows, hidden by lush velvet drapes at the moment, protecting us from the misty darkness.

Now I appeared to be lying on the sofa with him, his arms around me and my head on his shoulder. As I looked up at his face, he smiled and gently pressed his lips to mine. "Have a nice nap?"

"Yes, thank you," I replied a little breathlessly. He lazily moved his hand up and down my arm, gently rubbing.

"Where are you going when you get to America?" he wanted to know, as I looked back down at his shirt.

"I'm not sure yet. I'll decide when I get there," I said. Depression creept around the edges of my mind, thinking that I had a demon to track as soon as we arrived.

"I've bought a house in New York on Third Street," he said. "Stay with me there."

"I can't stay with you." Completely caught off guard by his suggestion, reality reared its ugly head.

"Why not?" Of course, I'd lived with him in the past. Married, in fact. We'd had children together. But somehow it just seemed different now. I pushed at his arms and sat up in agitation.

"Because...because I would have to be traveling about. Look, you know what I do. Do you expect me to live with you, go off to kill your brethren, and then come back? That is, if I survive. Would you be okay with that?"

"You never left before."

"I never had the chance. You always killed me." He flinched at the harshness of my tone. I sighed. "At any rate, it's really only been the past couple of hundred years or so that I've really moved about which I guess is because transportation has become more accessible. But my point is that I feel compelled to go, and I go. That's why I'm headed to America now."

"I will go with you then." He said it with such conviction I almost laughed, but it wasn't the least bit funny.

"You can't."

"What I can't do is lose you again." My breath caught at his words.

"You never lost me, Alexander, you killed me," I said softly. I sat back down next to him, and he took my hand in both of his.

"I can't begin to describe what my life has been like since that last time. Such a very long time this last gap between our meetings has been. I have been searching for you—always waiting...always lonely. Think, Diana, on any one of those occasions through the couple of thousand years that we have come together, I could have taken your soul and ended this cycle. Instead, I was infuriated. I wanted to punish you for being a warrior...I never wanted to completely destroy you. I always wanted you. I wanted you to come back to me."

I was shocked at his blatant admission, not able to take my eyes from his face, thinking of all the pain he'd caused me but also knowing that there had been moments of sweetness.

"I was arrogant. Selfish. I waited for your next incarnation with anticipation. It was a game to me. A challenge. Would I recognize you? Would you know me? If you didn't, could we be together? Would you try to kill me? Would you succeed finally? But mostly I waited to see that look in your eyes when you discovered that you loved me. No one has ever looked at me like that except you. You see every bad thing about me and yet you still love me," he paused looking at me intently. "I've missed you, your company, your wit and intellect, your humor but most of all, your love. I will never kill you again, Diana. I love you. I always have."

Before I could respond to his astounding declaration, the ship lurched severely and shuddered, knocking us from the sofa onto the floor. "We've struck something," he said as he helped me up. We could hear people opening doors in the hall inquiring about what had happened. And I knew. I knew that I was not to be given any kind of a chance at a life with him this go around. He must have realized what I was thinking and said, "No."

"Look, Alexander, I appreciate your honesty. You know that I have loved you in the past and, quite frankly, I still do." I smiled gently at him, putting my palm along side his cheek. "Yes, I see the good in you, not just the bad. Everyone has a balance of darkness and light in their hearts. Some scales are weighted more on one side than the other. And it has seemed to me each time we were together that the balance of your scale was shifting away from the dark. Each time you were kinder, happier, and more eager to share the world with yourself as well as others. But my lives have become very grim." I shook my head with regret.

"I rarely make it to my thirtieth birthday. It is not my lot to be happy I don't think. In fact, what would you like to bet that this ship is about to sink...me with it?" I asked with, strangely enough, a faint taste of ash in my mouth and sense of dread in my heart.

"Don't be ridiculous. There are lifeboats."

"But I can't take a place in one. I know my fate, Alexander." I felt a little sick to my stomach. I hated dying.

"I've just found you again. I'm not letting you go down with the ship, if it does go down." His jaw clenched with determination.

"What about you? Are you going to take a place in a lifeboat?" I was curious because I didn't understand his survival capabilities. I knew of only one way to kill him...with silver. He'd been alive, apparently unchanging, for thousands of years. So would he drown? Would he freeze? What would actually happen to him?

"No, I could hang on to the side of the boat you were in so that we would be together."

"Well, from our tour of the ship with the captain, we both know that there are more people on board than there are places in the lifeboats. I will be reborn. My life will continue another time."

"No," he was shaking his head in denial. "I might not find you again for centuries. We must stay together this time." He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a little shake. He was definitely angry thinking I was just being stubborn. He pulled me to the closet and got out the life preservers for us to put on, and then we went out into the corridors. Apparently others had the same idea, and we followed them up onto the deck to get the news.

There wasn't any panic initially, but as it became apparent that the ship actually was going to go down, people started fighting for the lifeboats. Finally accepting my decision to remain on board, Alexander and I went to the quiet alcove where he had seen me that first day and stood quietly holding each other, my head on his shoulder.

"I will maintain my house in New York from now on. If you don't survive this, then when you remember, find me there." I smiled at him and traced his face lightly with my fingertips. In this life I remembered many of my former lives but knew that it was not always so. In some of my incarnations, I didn't remember much of anything. I think it's so that I could have a respite from the constant bloodshed and fear. He didn't seem to be able to take his eyes from my face, and he leaned down to kiss me once more...possibly for the last time. It was filled with need and left me with a sad yearning sensation.

"Will you do me a favor?" I asked quietly. "I can't...I mean I am unable to...I am really not looking forward to drowning or freezing particularly. Would you please...just one more time?"

"No," he groaned just barely loud enough for me to hear. He understood what I was really asking and squeezed me so tightly breathing became difficult. "I just promised you that I would never again—besides what if we're rescued before the ship goes down?"

"We'll wait then until there is no doubt. But please, don't let me suffer. Please grant me mercy. Please." I knew it was hitting below the belt to bring up mercy but it got the job done, and he nodded with sorrow in his eyes once more.

* * * *

The Present

I woke up with Maggie shaking my shoulder as we approached New York.

"Oh my God, Mags, I actually asked him to kill me the last time!" She didn't even ask me what I was talking about.

"What happened?" Her eyes were huge with shock as I hurriedly told her the story. "What are you going to do?" she asked when I'd finished.

"Ha, go home. Actually have an eighteenth birthday in a few weeks and then finish high school." I felt kind of let down with my little list but, hey, I wasn't crazy. Even though that scene had played out the way it had, it didn't mean that he had really been serious. Or was really serious. Except for the fact that he'd saved my life in Rome. Twice. But still, even the times when we had been together, after a short while he'd ended up killing me.

"You want to know what's really nuts?" She nodded in response to my question. "The Light House that I bought in New York in the 1930s is on the same street as the house he bought in 1912."

"Wow." She didn't actually say it, just mouthed it.

"Yep, wow," I said nodding.

"If he loved you, how could he kill you?"

"I know! That's the real question. But, I guess, since I asked him to, I shouldn't really blame him for that one."

She nodded. "Okay, let's get through customs and go home."

We all hugged Helen goodbye at JFK. She was going to the Light House to meet the others, while we went to catch our connecting flight. I thought that she just wanted to meet Jarret, but she smiled at my suggestion and promised to keep in touch.

I really looked forward to a calm and peaceful summer. I would turn 18 and get the AA book vote completed. No demons allowed.

## Epilogue

The first day of school—the first day of senior year! Not quite the first day of the rest of our lives yet, but getting closer all the time. Unfortunately, today would be difficult. A few weeks after we got back from Italy, Maggie had called with sad news. Our vice principal, Mr. Jakes had been involved in a fatal car accident, and many of the students didn't know it yet.

It had been a one car accident in which he'd lost control, side swiped a barricade, and then gone over the edge to slam head-on into an oak tree. He apparently hadn't been wearing a seatbelt because he'd been thrown from the vehicle and had suffered extensive head and chest injuries. Tommy had been routed home from basic training for the memorial service, and Sam spent as much time as possible with him.

Sam, Maggie and I got out of his truck and headed to our homeroom long before the tardy bell could ring. Unbelievably, we all had homeroom together this year. The rest of my schedule included Sam in Government and Maggie in English and pre-cal, and we all had the third lunch wave. I was on my own in Chemistry, which meant I was probably doomed to fail that particularly gruesome subject.

When we chose seats as close to the back as possible, Allie Newton leaned close to say, "Hey, did you hear we got a new assistant principal? For an older guy he's kinda cute. He even has an earring. But he's way strict. I heard he took up seven cells before the first bell!"

"How'd we get a new VP so fast?" Sam wondered.

"You heard that Mr. Jakes had an accident?" Allie asked him.

"Yeah, Tommy called me over the summer when it happened." Sam had been depressed, and we'd all gone together to see Tommy.

"Is it true he'd been drinking?" Allie asked. She loved gossip and was always an excellent source if you needed to know what was going on around the school.

"No, I don't think it's true," I answered. "They are going to do an autopsy to determine the cause, but Tommy said that he'd been having heart trouble, so they think it was a heart attack."

"Oh."

"Well, I hate to bring it up," Maggie said pausing to clear her throat, "but who are we going to get to sponsor Authors Abound?" Mr. Jakes had been our sponsor for the last three years. He'd always been the hands-off type and let us read pretty much what we wanted.

"Maybe Mr. Mason," I suggested.

"Are you kidding? Mason would never let us read Lord of the Rings. He'd insist on something like Moby Dick," Sam said disgustedly.

"What about Johnson?" Maggie asked hopefully.

"No, she said she wasn't going to donate any of her free time for clubs this year. She did that singing group last year who never showed up, leaving her waiting around, and she was really annoyed. I heard her chew a couple of them out royally," I told them.

"We'll think of somebody," Maggie said as Mr. Mason entered the room to call roll.

When lunch time arrived, I grabbed a Coca-Cola. I was making my way to the concourse to meet Sam and Maggie, when I heard the principal, Mr. Fredrickson, call out to me as I passed the door to his office. His office was set up with his desk opposite the door so that he could always see out with two chairs facing him on the other side. I knew that along the currently hidden far right wall there was a bank of file cabinets and behind the door a coat rack stood where he always placed his jacket and an extra umbrella.

"Diana, can you come in here a moment, please?" I skidded to a halt, and as I backtracked, heard him say, "This is the student I was just mentioning who is our book club president."

"Yes, sir?" I paused just outside his door. I saw a woman with shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail sitting in the chair opposite him with her back to me. As she turned to look at me, I saw that she was wearing a white button-down shirt tucked into black pants. My eyes flicked in surprise to a gun at her waist then back to Mr. Fredrickson as he continued to talk.

"I was going to send for you after lunch, but please give me a few moments now. I don't know if you've heard about Mr. Jakes?" he asked me, so I nodded. "Well, there is going to be an investigation, and I'm afraid you and the other book club members are going to be questioned."

"Investigation? But I thought it was a car accident," I said, completely confused.

"Yes, well, it may not have been Mr. Jakes' fault and that's part of what the investigation is regarding. The team investigating it is here now, so I wanted to introduce you to Detectives Reynolds and Black," he gestured at the woman and then to the side of his office that I couldn't see. I nodded to the woman and stepped forward to look at the other detective. And there he was, in the principal's office, Alex Black.

When my eyes met his, he smiled, "Nice to meet you, Miss Knight."

## Preview of Silver Demon

###### Silver Demon

### Book 2 in The Silver Series

###### By

###### Caron Rider

## Preface

Sometimes our fears are without visible cause, sometimes not. But everyone, everyone is afraid of the dark. You leave a person long enough without any source of light, in complete and utter darkness, and you leave a person who will slowly lose his sanity. The person might know intellectually that he is in a room by himself with only one door and no windows. He knows—he knows that nothing could have gotten into the room with him without his knowledge, but eventually, he will begin to hear a scrabbling, a light scratching, maybe the softest cough of sound. His heart rate will increase and then it's impossible to hear anything over the thudding, which only increases the anxiety.

Scientists feel that our dread of the dark is genetically hardwired—evolution at work. In the dark, there were, and still are, predators. Our terror gave us the edge to survive they think. No disagreement here, the Dark is real and we should fear it. But most disagree and term it 'imagination.' Little do they know.

The very Dark itself is our enemy. It tries to crush the pinpricks of light spread throughout its domain, but nothing seems to eradicate it! Where one is snuffed out, another begins. The battle lines were drawn eons ago as creatures of the Dark defend themselves against those of the Light.

## 1 Murder Most Foul

1068 CE

The castle of Black Oaks squatted atop the cliff as if it were a vulture waiting to swoop down and devour the dead below. An icy wind howled its way around the sharp stone corners. Its thick walls would be difficult to breach during a battle, not impossible, but extremely difficult. Opponents could try to dig under it and trigger the wall to collapse, thereby granting access.

However, its location on the cliff face left only three sides to attack, and the ground appeared to be solid rock once you reached a certain depth. So maybe that wasn't even an option. The only thing left would be to starve the population out...siege, a long and drawn out process. But there was no battle and no siege at the moment, though others had tried and failed in the past.

I rubbed my thin arms as the bitter cold from outside blasted in with the opening of the door. I had been fortunate last night. As a reward for recovering a pig from a narrow, rocky crevice, I had been allowed to sleep next to the fire on the stone floor of the kitchen. It was the warmest place in the castle. Usually I was in the barn with the sheep or up in a hayloft.

I preferred to sleep alone because if I woke up screaming when the demons killed me in my dreams, people were frightened and thought that maybe the devil had his evil eye upon me. I learned early that I could lose my life if they thought the devil influenced me.

Later in the day, I took kitchen scraps out to the barn for the pigs. While I was there, crouched down in one of the stalls along a wall, teasing a little kitten with a bit of straw, I smelled it! A demon was in the barn with me! While I'd never met with a demon in this life, there was no mistaking the smell. Although, as I sniffed, I realized the odor was sort of faint. So perhaps it was outside the barn.

Just then Baron Chadwick spoke from the other side of the wall. I had been around the Baron all my life, all twelve summers of it. He was the one who gave me permission to sleep in the kitchen. The cook called me a scamp and others a rascal but usually with a smile, so I had had the run of the castle my entire life. The master would have been surprised at my knowledge of the passageways and rooms within his fortress.

When I was younger, one of my first chores had been to clean the fireplace in his study. It was where he conducted his business with the tenants and visitors. One day when I was alone with my task, I noticed a silver knife on his desk. I had seen him use it to remove wax seals from documents. I am ashamed to say I stole it, nevertheless I did. I would never find another silver weapon, and while it might mean my death if anyone discovered it on me, it would also mean my death if I did not have it should I meet with a demon.

So I hid it in the bundle of rags I wore for warmth. I never heard an alarm sound over the theft. Could it be that he never noticed something so valuable go missing? What must it be like to be so wealthy that a costly item could be lost and easily exchanged for something else equally expensive?

I clutched at the handle through my clothing. I wanted desperately to pull it out and jab it into the master's friend, for that is where the smell came from. But if I attacked in front of witnesses, it would mean my certain death even if I triumphed. They would see it as some evil sorcery should he explode into a cloud of inky, black smoke.

I knew which room he had been given to sleep in. He had been placed in a chamber designated for high-ranking guests furnished with the best to create the most comfort. The room was special in one other way as well. When cleaning the massive fireplace, I discovered a hidden compartment. I had stood within the fireplace to scrub off the black soot as high as I could reach up the chimney.

When facing the bedroom, my hand passed over a slightly larger bump on one of the bricks. Thinking that something was stuck to it, I pushed with all my might trying to remove it. Instead, it pushed inward, and I heard a sharp clicking noise to the side. A brick swung loose almost out of my reach.

It took only a moment to pull a footstool within the fireplace so that I could see within the hidden niche. It contained a tiny leather bag tied closed with a thong. I pried the knot loose with the tip of my dagger to reveal a square-cut emerald ring surrounded on the sides by tiny pear shaped diamonds. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I took it to the window to look at it in the sunlight and watched the radiance glisten around the ring as I moved it. A noise sounded from the hallway, and I almost dropped it! Quickly I put it back in its bag, tied it up, and returned it to the compartment. I often thought of the ring throughout day, but never would I pull it out again for fear of being caught.

I knew I must wait until everyone slept in order to attack the demon. When the time came, I quietly made my way out of the barn, so no one saw me. Hopefully, he would not require one of the maids to sleep with him. That would be awkward.

The darkness of night could not stop me, though I was cold to the bone. I crept up one of the back staircases and slipped down the hall to his bedroom, taking cover wherever it was offered—behind a table, a dresser, even once behind a tapestry. At his door, I listened. Nothing. I gently eased it open and stepped into the room, closing the door quietly.

A fire barely crackled in the grate but gave off enough light to see the furnishings dimly. The bed had the hangings closed except on the side facing the fire. From my position, it was just a shadow darkened cave. I tiptoed over to the foot of the bed and paused, allowing my eyes to adjust to the murky interior. I could hear him breathing! Slow, steady breaths. It sounded as if he was alone, close to my side of the bed.

As I moved toward the head of the bed along its edge, I could see a glimmer of reflected firelight on the skin of his arm above the blankets. It was odd. Even with the fire, bitter cold permeated the room. I would have thought he would keep his arms under the blankets. Getting ready to pounce, I grasped the knife handle with a firmer grip. As I lifted the dagger above my head, his long arm reached out to grab me by my other arm. He hauled me across his body to the other side of the bed as he sat up.

Without thinking, I jabbed the knife into his midriff, feeling it sink in several inches. There was a sharp hissing sound of in drawn breath and then an explosive oath. He released me long enough to grab the hilt of the knife and wrench it from his side before flinging it across the room. I heard it clatter against the stone hearth. I struggled to free myself, trying to slither off the far side of the bed, but he grabbed hold of my ankle and pulled me back. Then he was upon me with his forearm across my throat, crushing the life out of me. And without ever speaking to me, Alexander had killed me again.

* * * *

The Present

I was unconsciously clutching at my throat when I entered the library at the end of the first day of school. My heart began to beat frantically in anticipation of what was to come. A mere hour and a half earlier, I had discovered that Detectives Reynolds and Black would be meeting with our book club, Authors Abound, today. They had questions about the fatal auto accident of our assistant principal and book club sponsor, Mr. Jakes, which happened this past July.

However, Detective Black was actually the demon, Alexander, who through the centuries had killed me more times than I cared to think about, but who had also saved my life at the beginning of the past summer. Along with other warriors for the Light, Solomon, David, Helen, and Jarret, and my friends Maggie and Sam, I had gone to Rome at the request of Bishop Soratino to fight demons in the catacombs. Mission accomplished, sort of.

I had survived that meeting with him. Would I survive this one? I just couldn't think straight, and when I looked at my hands, they were still shaking. What was he doing here?

The AA club was meeting to learn the outcome of our email vote taken during the summer to determine what we would read first for the year. The chairs were already in a circle with the gang all there: Sam and Maggie good-naturedly arguing; Vera looking at her phone with Rob watching her; Gabby laughing along with Amy at something Manning said.

"Okay, guys, hands down The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien was the winner of the summer vote," I said as I came up. As she'd voted for Percy Jackson, Vera looked a little aggravated at the outcome. I'd have to make sure we read something other than Tolkien all year long, or she might flip out. I saw Rob reach out and touch her shoulder, causing her to give him a small smile.

"Hey, where were you at lunch today?" Maggie asked.

"I was talking with Fredrickson and two detectives." Fortunately my voice was pretty steady, unlike my hands. I'd missed lunch so maybe it was a case of low blood sugar causing my shaky hands. No...probably not.

"Detectives?" Maggie raised her eyebrows. I had gained everyone's attention.

"Yes. They are coming to talk with all of us today. They should be here any minute. Detectives Reynolds and Black...Alexander Black," I added quietly with a meaningful look at Sam and Maggie as the others burst out talking at once. Their eyes widened, and when Maggie drew in a breath to ask another question, I shook my head slightly.

"About what?" Rob asked.

"They are investigating the death of Mr. Jakes." As I finished the statement, the detectives walked in with Principal Fredrickson.

"Afternoon students. These are Detectives Black and Reynolds." Mr. Fredrickson introduced them to us. Alex's eyes flicked around the circle, finally resting back on me. I didn't want to keep looking at him but was afraid not to watch him to see what he was going to do. After one quick look at his face, I focused on his blue and white striped tie. I was afraid that I might have a 'deer in the headlights' look on my face and tried to regulate my heartbeat.

Det. Reynolds' eyes seemed to hold the suspicion that all adults hold for teenagers as she looked around the circle. "Hi, everyone. We are conducting a routine investigation regarding Mr. Jakes' accident." As she assumed the lead, Alex stood behind her shoulder. Sam started to smile at him, but he shook his head at him.

"Investigation? Is this involving those murders?" Manning asked her and she narrowed her eyes, glancing back at Alex. There had been a rash of unsolved murders lately that had been causing some concern among parents. The PTA had created a Best Practices guidelines form and prominently posted it throughout the school for our first day back.

Alex smiled and quietly said, "I told you."

With a nod of her head, she answered, "We think that's a possibility. Can any of you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Mr. Jakes?" We all looked around the circle at each other and then shook our heads.

"But I thought he was in a car accident. How could that be related to those other murders?" Gabby asked. Our newest and youngest member of AA seemed pretty sharp. I found myself liking her more and more by the minute. She was a petite little blonde, barely topping five feet.

"Yeah, I thought the other bodies were all slashed apart," added Rob. He was our other new member, but unlike Gabby who was a sophomore, he was a senior like the rest of us.

"Well, some of Mr. Jakes' injuries appear consistent with those of the murdered victims," Alex responded. "We think perhaps that Mr. Jakes stumbled upon something."

"So you think maybe he saw something and didn't realize the significance of it," Sam said. There spoke a fan of CSI, NCIS, and Criminal Minds.

Alex nodded. "We hoped by talking with you that we could retrace his movements and possibly uncover something. The tiniest detail could be significant."

Thirty minutes later Reynolds passed out a few business cards and said, "Thank you for your time. Just give us a call if you have any information you think might be helpful with our investigation." Of course, we had not thought of anything remotely helpful, though we did try, listing the known bullies and troublemakers that Mr. Jakes had had run-ins with.

I began to calm down as soon as Alex left the building. But still I wondered what he was doing in Springfield. How in the world had he become a detective? And now with all these murders, the last one happening just a week ago, I was definitely freaked. As soon as they were gone, there was one moment of stillness as we looked at each other, then as one we ran to the pile of back issues of the Sun Times near the stacks in the middle section of the library and began looking up articles regarding the murders. Rob located the first one:

Murder in Springfield

By Butch Svenson

Monday, July 4, 2011

Police confirmed today that the mutilated body of a young woman was discovered along a lonely stretch of road just south of Springfield near Cloverdale Lake. The body had been 'ripped and torn' according to a police spokesperson. However, medical examiners say a sharp object had first cut the body. Then it appeared pieces were roughly torn away as if by animals. Identification of the remains has not yet been made.

A railroad worker conducting a routine inspection in the early morning hours yesterday found the corpse. Although the body was severely mutilated, little blood was present at the scene leading police to believe the murder may have occurred elsewhere. The body was then dumped near the abandoned railway station. Police are asking residents to call the State Police if they have any information regarding this homicide or know of any recent missing persons. The investigation is continuing, and police hope to release more details later today.

July 4th...just two weeks after I had turned eighteen on the summer solstice. I had been celebrating life since my return from Rome, but now I tasted a faint hint of ash as I swallowed.

Manning rustled his paper and said, "Here's another one:

Murder Rampage

By Butch Svenson

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Another grisly murder in Springfield! As they reported for work early this morning, sanitation workers at the new landfill west of the city discovered the mutilated body of a young man. Police would not comment when asked if the injuries were similar to those observed on the remains of a young woman found on July 4th.

Neither victim has been identified. Both murders are described as vicious with no apparent motive or connection. An ambulance driver described the body as looking like a wild animal had savaged it. Police said they could not comment regarding an on-going investigation. Both murders took place late at night or in the early morning hours, and police are warning residents who have to be out to be cautious of anyone they don't know.

When he finished, Sam read the last one out loud to us:

Serial Killer in Springfield

By Butch Svenson

Monday, August 8, 2011

Police have confirmed that another brutally mutilated body was found this morning. The injuries appear to be consistent with two other murdered victims from this past July. A tourist near Bridal Cave, a local attraction, discovered the unidentified corpse of a young woman. Police would not comment on the progress of the investigation but did warn citizens to stay indoors during the hours of darkness. No curfew has been announced, but police say all three murders took place during the night and were not caused by a wild animal.

There is a briefing by State Police officials scheduled for 6pm tonight. It is thought they will release the names of the victims at that time. All three murders in the Springfield vicinity lead police to believe the killer is local to the area. Residents are asked to phone the State Police about any person they encounter acting suspiciously. Residents are also asked not to go out alone at night but to travel in small groups whenever possible.

## 2 The Legend of Bridal Cave

We were silent when Sam was finished, each of them no doubt thinking about a serial killer in our town but not me. I was thinking that reporter Butch Svenson had better watch his back. I had seen torn and slashed victims through the centuries in my dreams and such markings always meant one thing...a demon. A demon I had just seen in our school...a demon that would not perhaps like a reporter who could connect the dots.

Is that why Alex played at detective? Did he want to cover up or conceal murders that he had committed? But I hadn't smelled a reek around him, just that lightly spicy odor of Calvin Klein's Obsession for Men cologne. Surely that meant he wasn't killing. Not that I'd gotten that close to him to be able to tell. I had been lucky not to faint when he had said hello to me.

I knew he said he had stopped killing centuries ago, but...I also knew he had killed me during those times, so why not others? Or was it only me he killed these days? Of course, just killing didn't create that demon stink. It was the taking of the human soul that created the revoltingly foul odor.

"How could Mr. Jakes be involved in those murders?" Vera wanted to know.

I shrugged and said, "Look it's late, and I've got to get home. We're reading The Fellowship of the Ring. It's broken into two books, so I've planned for us to split that up into four sections. Book I has twelve chapters so let's read through chapter six for our next meeting. We'll have one discussion on the Goodreads website in a week. All of us should be through chapter three by then. I'll email Gabby and Rob the info to create an account and join the discussion group. Is that all right with everyone?" They all nodded, and we headed in different directions except for Sam and Maggie. They waited for me by the door.

"Diana, what is he doing here?" Sam wanted to know.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Maggie was grinning. "He followed Diana to be with her." She sighed at what she apparently considered a romantic thought.

"Hello..." I waved my hand in front of her face. "I did not tell him where to find me. I don't want him here! He kills me, remember?" I could feel myself wanting to hyperventilate and consciously tried to calm my heart as I could feel it beginning to thud against my rib cage again. "I'd like to make at least 30 this time around." In most of the dreams I had, I knew that I often died at a young age. I was too young to die.

"But, Di, he could have killed you in Rome and didn't. In fact, he helped you. Besides, you have been with him before. He must be sorry for the past mistakes." Maggie's smile went from ear to ear. Mistakes? I took a deep breath, which helped a bit. It wasn't her fault she liked him. If I didn't know about him, I would probably like him too. "How can you not like someone who looks like Johnny Depp except for the black hair?" she wondered.

I rolled my eyes. I think she'd watched every movie Johnny Depp had ever made, including all the old 21 Jump Street shows.

"Look, there were a lot of murders in Rome, right?" They nodded. "And he was there. Now murders are taking place here and where's he?"

"Here." Sam exchanged a glance with Maggie, looking serious. "So you think he's involved?"

"I don't know, but I think we need to check it out. Those wounds described in the papers are very similar to the wounds many demons leave on bodies. On the other hand, they're not the typical wounds caused by a human form demon."

Sam was truly getting into it and said, "The last murder took place at Bridal Cave. Why don't we go check it out? You know, see if we can find any clues." Why did the theme song from Scooby Doo suddenly start playing in my mind?

"Before we go anywhere near Bridal Cave, we'd better have some weapons," I said.

As they nodded agreement, Maggie added with a nervous grin, "Silver ones."

The Legend of Bridal Cave goes something like this: Centuries ago long before the paleface arrived in the Ozark Mountains, there was a tribe of natives known as the Osage Indians. They lived along the north shore of what is now known as Ha Ha Tonka State Park. Our tale involves two tribes: the Big Hills and the Little Hills.

The leader of the Big Hills tribe was Chief Neongo and the Little Hills tribe had Chief Elkorn. Now Neongo had a son named Conwee who loved the daughter of Elkorn, Wasena. He desired the lovely maiden and wished to make her his wife...but she refused.

Not to be dissuaded, late one moonlit night, he and several other braves crossed the Osage River close to the junction of the Niangua and snatched Wasena and her friend Irona from their beds. Fleeing the pursuit of the Little Hills tribe, Conwee, his braves, and his captives took refuge within a beautiful, stalactite filled cave as the sun rose.

Wasena managed to escape and fled to the top edge of the towering cliff that looms hundreds of feet above the Niangua River with Conwee closely pursuing. Eluding his grasp and without a backward glance, she ran forward and launched herself into the open air before plummeting to the valley below—death being preferable to being with one she did not love. The cliff became known as Lover's Leap. All or nothing...in love there are no half measures.

Irona, on the other hand, fell in love with Prince Buffalo, another son of Chief Neongo. To honor her friend Wasena, Irona and Prince Buffalo's marriage ceremony took place within the cave. From that time onward, many marriages have taken place in what's become known as Bridal Cave.

When we arrived at Thunder Mountain Park where the cave was located, the park office was already closed.

"So how do we get in?" Maggie facetiously wanted to know as we looked at the gate. Like most of the parks in the area, a single bar extended from a guardhouse type structure where the rangers would sit to collect the entrance fee as the cars drove through. It was the only thing blocking the road. The bar might stop a vehicle but certainly wouldn't stop us if we went in on foot.

"You'd think they'd post some guards after a murder," Sam said as we crossed into the park.

"Just be glad they didn't. Let's hurry. We only have about another hour of good light," I said.

Fortunately Sam's dad owned several guns, and Sam had brought an AWC Amphibian S Ruger MKII in .22 caliber. It was a ten shot pistol with built-in silencer that was no louder than a CO2 BB pistol. It did sport a barrel length of nine inches though, so he'd cut the bottom out of his right hand jeans pocket and carried the gun barrel down in that pocket—safety on. It was fairly well concealed while still accessible in a hurry. He kept several extra clips also loaded with silver bullets in his other pocket.

I had purchased a couple of 1 ounce silver bars at a local pawn shop last summer, and Sam took them to Cherokee Gun Smith and convinced the owner, Anderson, to cast the .22 caliber bullets for us, telling him it was for a display case for his father. He must have believed him because the police had never come calling. I had my silver dagger from Rome, and Maggie had brought a few silver tipped arrows and a bow. She'd taken archery last fall and wasn't half bad.

We were familiar with the area because we'd been hiking in the woods for most of our lives. I loved the woods and had always loved the story of Wasena and her leap. People talk today about "leaps of faith" and "looking before you leap" and it all stems from her. We hope for the best but take that plunge even knowing it might be the end.

A light breath of wind rustled the leaves within the scenic woodland. The muted buzz of insects going about their business sounded. Always before the forest had made me feel safe, even with the knowledge that there were bears, coyotes, and the occasional mountain lion around. For the most part, if you left them alone, they'd leave you alone. Usually the soft light dappling on the slightly spongy ground through the leaves of tall ash and oak trees and gentle, caressing waft of air made me feel secure.

Except today—today I started nervously at the least sound and the shadows appeared ominous as I looked to see if anything lurked under the trees. I sniffed at the breeze trying to detect any foul odor that might signal the presence of a demon.

From the parking area, you had to follow a well-marked path to get to the cave entrance, but we headed onto a less worn trail from the guardhouse and bypassed the evidence of civilization. As we got closer to the cave, the trails became more worn and obviously well traveled. Around the cave, modern technology made itself known with handrails and cement tiles smoothing the way in places.

"Where was the body found?" I asked.

"According to that article it was 'near' the cave. Should we check the cave first and then look around outside?" Sam looked toward the left-hand trail that eventually led to a cliff.

"Let's use the light we've got left to look outside and then go in," I suggested. Maggie notched an arrow and we continued forward. We walked single file as we approached the cave area with Sam in the lead.

"Good evening. I wish I could say I was surprised." Alex greeted us as he stood leaning against the wall just out of sight within the cave entrance. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin. My estimation of his ability with a gun went up a notch when it didn't go off, but it did swing towards Alex. "Now turn around and get out of here before anyone else sees you."

"Who else would see us?" Maggie asked, good thing because my voice appeared stuck, and I had that hyperventilation feeling again.

"Maybe the other police who have the area staked out in case the murderer comes back." Alex frowned, not looking happy to see us. "I could hear you coming a mile away. So I sent my partner to make a round up by the cliff. Now get out of here before she comes back."

"Did you do it? Did you kill those people?" My voice grated harshly when I said the word kill. At the question, I thought I saw a flash in his eyes—of pain?—but he quickly looked down and shook his head.

"No, Diana, I just arrived in Springfield a few weeks ago."

"A few weeks? But how did you get to be a detective in such a short time?" Sam was incredulous. "I thought you were a reporter."

"Identity theft is one of the fastest growing crimes in the world." Then he made a shooing gesture and said, "Go, get out of here. If you want information, then meet me later tonight at the address on the back of this." He pulled out a business card and held it out. Maggie stepped up and took it from him.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Your dreams of me should tell you all to clearly that I could kill you easily here and now—all of you. But your experience with me in Rome should tell you I don't want to hurt you. I suppose only time will prove it."

He made another shooing gesture with a flap of his hand, so we headed back to Sam's truck.

"I can't believe we're just going to do what he asks." We kept walking, but Sam had lowered his voice to a whisper. Towing the line was never popular with Sam.

"He's here. A body was found here. How do we know...?" Maggie's faith was shaken.

I sighed and stopped. "Look. I think if he were taking souls, I would smell it. There's no other reason for him to kill people. In Fredrickson's office, I didn't smell anything out of the ordinary. But one thing I do know from my past experience with him...it is not wise to go against him. So we should all get out of here."

Unfortunately, just as we got close to the guard shack, Det. Reynolds stepped out from behind it. It just wasn't our day.

"I wondered whose truck was parked here." She looked from one to the other of us suspiciously.

"Det. Reynolds...hey. We just thought we'd look around and see if we could find anything that would be helpful." That might have sounded sensible, but Sam gave a nervous sounding giggle toward the end which totally blew it. A six-foot one high school football player that giggles always aroused suspicion. I could have smacked him.

"And did you find anything?" She raised her eyebrows as she took in Maggie's bow and arrows slung across her back and then held out her hand to Sam. "I'll take that."

Sam swallowed but didn't move. "Det. Reynolds, I have a carry permit, but this is my dad's gun. I can't give it to you." If we lost that gun, we'd have to re-do ammo for another one. That'd be a pain and take time we could ill afford if demons other than Alex were around.

"Weapons are not allowed on park property." She gestured with one hand to the official sign tacked on the wall of the guardhouse while the other rested on the butt of her gun. "Hand it over."

As Sam hesitated, a gunshot exploded to our left and somewhat behind us. We all ducked, but Reynolds pulled her firearm and said, "Go on. I'll speak to you about this later." Then she ran towards the cave. We ran for Sam's truck with our hearts pounding.

"Well? Are we going?" Sam wanted to know as we pulled up to my house after leaving the park.

"Yes," Maggie answered when I could do nothing but shrug. I desperately wanted answers, but I also desperately wanted to stay away from Alex. Again, he could have killed us, and no one would have known about it. But he could also have killed me far more easily in the catacombs. No one there would have connected me with him.

By talking to me in public at the school, there were witnesses to our meeting. And now that Reynolds had seen us at the park, he would be further implicated if anything happened to me. He must have created a diversion for us to be able to leave the park. While Sam drove us back to my place, I wondered what excuse he gave for firing his weapon.

"Come on, we need to eat something," I said getting out of the truck. When we trooped into the kitchen, we discovered my mom had left a spaghetti dinner on the stove and a note on the fridge telling me they'd gone to see Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Periodically over the years we would have Ape weekends where we would start with the first movie of the series on a Friday and watch all six throughout the weekend. Between Sam, Maggie, and me, we could probably quote all the movies to you...kind of like Monty Python and the Holy Grail and The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Let's do the time warp again! My parents were a bad influence.

"Man, I can't believe they went without us!" Sam exclaimed. He sounded shocked and ticked off at the same time.

"You expect to go out on a Friday night with my parents?" We all burst out laughing after my question. Really though, when we went to the movies, we didn't care if my parents were with us or not. We all enjoyed most of the same flicks. I think it bothered my parents more because they wanted a "date" night, which meant away from me and my friends.

I gathered plates of spaghetti and nuked them one after the other in the microwave as Maggie filled glasses with ice and Sam got cokes out of the pantry. We'd done this a time or two.

"What are we going to do?" Sam finally asked as we finished eating. Since my parents weren't home, we'd brought the weapons inside. The gun sat on the breakfast bar counter gleaming in the light from overhead. "She's probably going to tell my dad about the gun. Don't you think? What am I going to say to him? If I take the gun home now, it'll probably be taken away."

"We can't have that," Maggie said. "We'll have to find a safe hiding place for it where the cops won't think to look." She sounded optimistic but realistically where could we hide a gun that would be safe plus be easy to get to? Never forget there were demons somewhere nearby, and we'd have to have access to the gun relatively quickly.

"I have an idea," I said. Many years ago, Maggie and I had made a time capsule. We'd placed our things in a large coffee can and buried it in a playhouse in the backyard under a paving stone. I hadn't been in the playhouse for years, but I was sure the can was still buried there.

"Oh, that's a great idea. We just have to lift up the paver," Maggie said when I'd explained my thought.

"So before we go to meet Alex," I choked over his name a little. "We get the can so that when we get back, we can quickly bury it under the stone." They nodded agreement, but I could tell Sam was worried about what his dad was going to say. Plus that meant the gun would be "missing" from Sam's house. What if he needed it there?

I was beginning to see evil on all sides now. Why is it that after surviving what I was sure was going to be certain death by going to Rome, I get home to find death happening all around me? Was there a demon actually preying on the citizens of Springfield? Would I have made the connection at all if Alex hadn't shown up?

"The address is on Bagnell Street. Isn't that over by the Nature Center?" Maggie asked as she looked at the card Alex had given her.

"Bagnell? Wow. For a detective, he must make the big bucks. I don't think there's a place in that area under a mil." Sam seemed to have forgotten that Alex wasn't a "real" detective.

"You should have seen his apartment in Rome. It was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen."

"Yeah and you could have at least clicked a pic of his car with your cell when you had the chance!" Sam was still outraged to have missed Alex's sleek, black DeLorean. I didn't get it. It was nice and all, but I didn't get the immense appeal of cars.

We headed out to Alex's place with dread settling somewhere near the pit of my stomach. I felt slightly nauseous and wished I'd passed on the dinner. The odd thing was that I also wanted to see him. I felt a connection to him. Especially since dreaming of our brief time together on the Titanic.

When we finally pulled into his driveway, I was surprised there wasn't a gate, although there were two large brick pillars flanking the entrance with vines of ivy creeping up them. The house was set far back on a wooded property so you couldn't see it from the road. The trees came right up to the edge of the driveway, making us feel as if we traveled through a tunnel.

When we pulled up outside the three-car garage, we just sat in Sam's truck for a few minutes trying to take in the surroundings. To our left I could see a flagstone walkway leading off towards the back of the house. It looked as if there were a gleam of blue water in the distance, a pool perhaps. Then to the right, another walkway led between immaculate flowerbeds full of roses and mums with neatly trimmed, little bushes, up a few stairs to a stain glass front door.

Alex opened the door as we stepped onto the porch.
FREE DOWNLOAD

Something for Everyone

by

Caron Rider

This volume is a short collection of eclectic poems and limericks for the young at heart. Inspiration was a wild wind that blew the author hither and yon to write about love, cats, parents, pirates, magic, and much, much more (often with tongue in cheek).

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Don't miss the other two books in

The Silver Series

By Caron Rider

Silver Demon

Silver Dreamer

Coming 2016:

Apophis

Is it the end of the world or a new beginning?

The asteroid, Apophis, hurtles toward Earth at an astonishing 56,000 mph. When it strikes, it will rain destruction and chaos down on our world. Two groups are created to save mankind, our culture, and our technology.

One group goes into stasis while the other heads to Mars. Centuries later, those in stasis wake to find the Martians have invaded!

##### NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

While I hope that you enjoyed this book, I also hope that your interest has been aroused in history. This novel contains many references to actual people and events, but I have put my own fictional twist on the facts described. I would like to challenge you to find where I have twisted truth with fiction. My hope is that you will never accept just one source as the only source of information.

##### Caron Rider

##### ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Initially Caron Rider started teaching computer software, hardware, and networking in the 1990s. After some years that morphed into tutoring high school dropouts for the GED. She found working with at-risk teenagers so rewarding that she changed her undergraduate major to Education. Upon graduating from the University of South Alabama with a B.S., she began teaching high school history. She now lives in rural Missouri with her two kids, two dogs, two cats, and several chickens.

She can be contacted through her website:

www.caronrider.com.
