 
Companion Guide

Grave Danger

By: K.E. Rodgers

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Smashwords Edition

Published By:

K.E. Rodgers on Smashwords

© 2010

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This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and places or events in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is coincidental.

Introduction:

Death is not an unfamiliar entity to this world. Friend or villain, he remains a permanent fixture in popular culture. Thos who have felt the brush of his beautiful lips upon their flesh are forever changed and those that have yet to known his face are both fearful and morbidly curious to have a glimpse into the depths of his pitiless eyes.

A noted character in storytelling throughout the ages in various incarnations, he has endured as long as humans have recognized mortality. Death's essence hangs strongly in the air within the boundaries of the oldest city of St. Augustine. This is a venture into the lives of those who have known him and those who are aware of his presence in this world.

Author Note:

It's a troubled mind who gains great pleasure in writing about the dead. I am that troubled mind. Yet despite their otherworldly differences, these characters are more like you and I than you might at first believe. Yes, they might not possess a human-like exterior structure, a body. Or maybe they must sustain themselves with the blood of the living, the essence of life coursing through the blood and tissues of all living things. Found most abundantly in the human genus.

Are you confused? Don't be, I'll explain throughout. As the stories progress you might find you're comparing yourself to one or more of these characters. However, I hope it's not because you like the metallic, sweet taste of blood on your tongue. No disrespect of course to your preferences.

The Eidolon, Greek word for spirit, is one group of people who try as hard as possible to maintain a normal after-life. They are bombarded by the troubles and joys of any typical human. There really should be a handbook for these people like in the Bettlejuice movie. Yet it shouldn't read like stereo instructions.

The Flesh-Eaters, what you might refer to as zombies, are seen as both politically and socially different from the Eidolon community. Purposely I wanted them to be polar opposites. Imagine the Israelis and the Palestinians, both trying to vie for the same bit of sacred landscape. Without getting too political, the situation in St. Augustine can be viewed in similar respects. Both wanting the right to exist and finding it difficult to do so with the other in their way. Yet these two opposing forces do have a similarity, they are subject to the human condition. They're not human, but they were once. Can death really take their humanity away from them? I think not.

This is my interpretation of the world of the dead and undead alike, where love exists beyond the grave and even those who have touched the grave have something still to fear. Love can be very frightening, especially for those who have never known him. In this world the living and dead co-exist in such close proximity it is sometimes difficult to remember who's supposed to be dead; pure semantics really.

Don't take anything too serious regarding this work and my theories may not be yours. I hope you enjoy this world of my creation and look forward to more of your visits in the near future. We love tourism.

Thanks,

K.E. Rodgers

History of the Flesh-Eaters:

The lasting effects of the Saturiba Indians who resided on this land long before Spanish settlers located and colonized the Florida coast, in the area that is now St. Augustine, there imprinted on the land an ancient magick, the effect of which allowing the supernatural world to emerge. This haunted settlement of old harbors more than the spectral of humans long gone. It is the breeding ground for some other kind of night time creature, the flesh-eater.

The term flesh-eater, capitalized or uncapped, is a derogatory term that has been adopted into the vernacular of people of this species. There is some debate about creating a new ethnic identity. It's still in the works.

These humanoid creatures are breathing bodies with no evidence of a mortal soul. If questioned by a ghost they would tell you that they are amoral creatures without a shred of humanity. Their species continues its depraved existence at the expense of another's life.

Cannibalism is and has been a taboo subject in many cultures. It is regarded as a sin and those partaking in this act are cast in the light of villain with some being condemned to death for it. An example: the first century cult group of Christianity.

A minority group within St. Augustine they are greatly outnumbered by the Eidolon, ghosts. In a bygone era these night time beings were quickly executed by their creator/destroyer, the Death Bokor. A Bokor, from Vodou religious practices, is capable of creating and controlling the undead species. A Death Bokor/Dealer is a secretly known subsidiary of this living person. (See. Death Bokor/Death Dealer).

The first historically named flesh-eater in St. Augustine is Ambrose LeMoyne. It is from his last name that each of the collected flesh-eaters takes their last names. Legally, they have their own last names in documentation. It is simply a show of respect that the brothers, who found each other throughout the coming years, should share a common name. The women have adopted these surnames through marriage to the brothers. Again, legally, they retain their living last names. The dead cannot legally marry, nor own property (residential or commercial) *Ambrose has gone around this legal red tape. He cannot, however, divulge these practices for privacy purposes.*

Ambrose was chased out during the mid-part of the following century (c. 18th century) by the predecessors of The Four (See. Diplomatic Authorities of St. Augustine). Through his journeys throughout the country he met his future brothers in spirit: Xavier first, followed by Trueman, and finally Chas. Corrigan entered their lives once they had returned to St. Augustine. They had been residing in New England, but had grown wary of the cold climate.

With the return of flesh-eaters to the area, the Eidolon community was unprepared for change in their closely controlled world. The modern world had seen little of these solitary species. In a world of science and reason there was little room for magick. So there was little room for the Death Bokor.

The Eidolon people of St. Augustine were forced to adjust to these nocturnal creatures and make room for them in their city. So a contract was agreed upon by the latest leading council members, The Four. The LeMoyne's may cross the Bridge of Lions (the historical landmark that connects Anastasia Island to the downtown area) into their city at full dark, but must return at dawn to their own permanent residence on Anastasia Island.

Contract Logistics: Abridged

I. Neither shall the first party, hereby known as the LeMoyne Family, be allowed to enter the establishments and residential housing of those known citizens of St. Augustine. I.a. Areas on the outskirts of town, or in lands not administered by the second party, hereby known as the St. Augustine Eidolon, are subject to geographical and differential ownership by the first party.

II. Hunting hours are to remain between midnight and the estimated arrival of dawn on the same day. If members of the first party are found on grounds overseen by members of the second party outside the allotted time frame, members of the first party may be subject to instant withdrawal of contract.

III. Under the mandate of the second party, never shall a member of the first party engage in nutritional activities with person(s) within the second party community, including those employed by the second party. (Reference: Spectral Services)......

*There's a bit more to this, but it's a bit boring. Future stories into the lives of the Eidolon will reflect more on these rules*

Physiology of a Flesh-Eater:

The living-dead or zombie preys on the living to continue their immortal and perhaps immoral existence. It is in the blood and tissue of the living bio-organisms of this planet that the life essence collects. This complex substance is also responsible for the chemistry found in the ectoplasm of non-corporal entities, ghosts. A flesh-eater retains little life essence in their system and must supplement their diet with a foreign supply. This compound should not be confused with the soul, which contains its own separate cosmic energy.

The internal organs of the flesh-eater are enlarged to maintain homeostasis within the body. A higher core temperature is normal. The complexion is similar to that of an average human, yet the enlarged heart beats sluggishly, not speedily as you might expect. It can, however, increase under stress or increased activity.

There is little to differentiate between them and the living, externally. If the flesh-eater does, however, defer from traditional nutritional practices they may appear pale. Dark shadows under the eyes that may be accompanied by dizziness and shortness of breath. The biological reactions going on inside a flesh-eater may seem similar to living humans diagnosed with acute hemolytic anemia, a malfunction of the immune system that produces autoantibodies that attack the red blood cells as if they were substances foreign to the human body. A flesh-eater's body is constantly attacking itself, so consistent intake of the foreign blood and life essence found in largest quantities in the human genome allows for a renewal of what their body destroys. If not, this can result in neurological damage and bodily deterioration. A zombie is created from this chemical change in the flesh-eater body. * Not to be forgotten, along with the chemistry is the supernatural component of their conception*

The flesh-eater is fueled by the magick of its conception, the elements of the earth, and the biological urge to consume the flesh and blood of the living. Associated with animalistic characteristics, it is capable of quick athletic reflexes and is not slow or dimwitted. The zombie is those things.

A dense layer of tissue keeps the flesh-eater from injury, self inflicted or not. However, if the tissue is damaged by any supernatural means the flesh-eater is at the mercy of bleeding out if the injury is not taken under control. The tissue can regenerate quickly, but the clotting function is not as active as in a typical living human. The flesh-eater may lose too much blood before the tissue growth is complete if the wound is extensive enough.

The biting power of the flesh-eater jaw is similar to that of a snake or crocodile and can inflict substantial damage on the flesh and bone of most living creatures. Their elongated canines are needed tools to accomplish these eating practices. They are likely to leave little evidence of their victims once consumption is completed.

The night hours are the usual prowling hours while the day is reserved for rest. A flesh-eater may venture out during the daylight hours, yet it chooses to be less conspicuous within living culture. In their estimation, night is also when the living choose to be more reckless in their activities.

Social interaction between flesh-eaters leans more toward individualism. Yet, for the purposes of controlling the family's activities and thereby decreasing liability the LeMoyne's have chosen to hunt in groups of two or more. The women go together most evenings. The more vicious flesh-eaters stay to themselves and are unlikely to form bonds with others of their own species. Corrigan remained on his own for most of his undead existence. *Aiden Mochrie, Corrigan's brother, is one of these lone flesh-eaters (Frost Bitten – Book 3.)

The LeMoyne family is capable of communication through neurological wave lengths that help them during their hunting hours and can be used to warn the others of impending danger. Not all flesh-eaters are able to tie into this; a necessary familiar bond must be in place first. Their communication interaction is set-up differently than other telecommunication between those of psychic persuasion. The line cannot be tapped into unless there is a spiritual bond between them. (Example: Clarissa was able to overhear Corrigan, Helen and Chas. Already, her chemistry was connected with theirs through Corrigan, even if she wasn't aware of it at the time.

The only thing a flesh-eater truly fears is the Death Bokor/ Death Dealer.

The LeMoyne Family:

The LeMoyne complex found on Anastasia Island is located just beyond the Anastasia Park and the Alligator Farm, set deep into the woods and connected to the main road by an unkempt dirt road. Beyond the high coquina walls that are harvested on the island are four separately spaced buildings. The largest, the main house, located near the center of the property with the four smaller homes laid out around it. Pathways connect the buildings with gardens that have been designed and maintained by Margaret Ann. Corrigan is the only sibling to not have his own home. He has made a place in the attic of the main house. Evening hours and Sunday dinners are spent in the main house where Ambrose and Maude make their home.

Sundays are the only day that the family has set aside to not go out. These hours are spent in human inspired activities. Maude makes a vegetarian meal and everyone gathers around the table in the main house. Flesh-eaters do not like cooked meats. These rubbery flesh morsels are likely to give them indigestion and they do not contain any nutritional benefit to their system. Xavier, however, does occasionally have a rare slab of meat. He's eccentric like that.

They have only moved back to St. Augustine within the last couple of decades. Despite residing out of Florida for so many lifetimes, Ambrose has always owned and sold property in St. Augustine and the surrounding area, including a sizable portion of swamp land further inland which he sold to the Disney Corporation back in the mid part of the century for a hefty price tag.

The family, a mix-matched group of characters who somehow manage to co-habitat fairly well, lean on each other in a world that despises them and their life-style choices to no end. They may not always get along, but they would never trade each other for anything.

The Men:

Ambrose LeMoyne – (Death Date: c. 1566, age: 24). The self-appointed leader of this motley family; he is the youngest in living years but oldest in worldly wisdom. With auburn locks that tend to curl in the Florida humidity and a boyish complexion, he is misleading to the untrained eye. He is the spokesperson for the family and deals directly with Cyrus Cercopoly and these ghostly constituents directly. A simple farmer in life, he has accumulated a substantial amount of commercial property that he sells to 'otherworldly' investors.

Xavier LeMoyne (formerly: Vega) – (Death Date: c. 1787, age: 36). The second oldest brother in both living and 'extra-living' existence, he is the most vocal of the family. A Spanish soldier for most of his life, he met Ambrose shortly after Ambrose's expulsion from St. Augustine. With dark brown eyes that are careful to watch out for a potential enemy. He is extremely loyal to the few he allows close to the sanctuary of his heart. He is also the shortest of the brothers which likely fuels his need to make up his lack of physical height with unnecessary bravado. He likes to collect weapons of various sizes and lethalness, keeping one on his person at all times.

Trueman LeMoyne (formerly: Holst) – (Death Date: c. 1823, age: 37). The third eldest brother is the polar opposite of his adopted male siblings, who treat each other to regular rounds of fights and caustic remarks. The quiet and thoughtful type, he is not to be seen as a push-over. In fact, if challenged, he could easily take down the brothers his intelligence outmatching their brute strength. As a college professor at Rutgers (Queens College), he was noted as being an unconventional teacher. His intelligence and drive for further knowledge is likely what led him into his current situation as a flesh-eater. *His conception is unlike the other members of the family. For purposes of story development I can't reveal the technical details until (Frost Bitten- Book 3).* He wears a pair of similar looking glasses to those that he wore in life. He doesn't need them to see, he just prefers the familiarity.

Chas LeMoyne (father's name: Gordon) – (Death Date: c. 1836, age: 20). The second to the youngest of the brothers, Chas was the last to find himself with the LeMoyne's before their move to New England. An ex-slave from South Carolina, he was the bastard son of his plantation owner father and a slave woman. He was killed in a fit of rage by his father, who was suspected to have been confronted by the lady of the house and wife. He is closest to Corrigan, with whom he goes out on the town with. He holds grudges, but loves his wife more than his own life/after-life. His other love is music. One particular vice of his is that he steals from his victims. His argument is that these poor beings have no need for these earthly possessions.

Corrigan LeMoyne (formerly: Mochrie) – (Death Date: c. 1853, age: 31). The most recent addition to the family, the ex-sailor of the English navy traveled around the globe before finding death on a moonlit sandy shore in the Caribbean. For most of his undead existence he has spent it either alone or as the play thing of his Bokor mistress, Elmira. (See. Death Bokor/Death Dealer). His small craft washed ashore on the beach one night several decades back and there he stumbled upon the LeMoyne's. Standing completely nude on their doorstep, they welcomed him in without too much question. Corrigan is aware of him-self in an unfriendly world and accepts his bestial nature without remorse, or at least he thinks he does. He loves to paint, something left over from his old life. It is what reminds him that he doesn't always have to be a monster. Yet, for Corrigan, the Eidolon people are more of what he has known for too long; people who treat him less than as a man. He doesn't trust them, their leaders, who he's sure is harboring unpleasant secrets.

Corrigan's canine companion is Archú, pronounced AWR khoo. His name means Hound of Slaughter. He is a black dog, a mythological creature from Northern England. He is larger than most dogs with sharp, lethal teeth and glowing red eyes. Archú is a very loyal dog, though Corrigan does not consider him a pet. Legend states that those who try to touch the beast will be instantly struck dumb and die. (Grave Danger – Book 1)

The Women:

Debora LeMoyne (formerly: Van der Berg) – (Death Date: c. 1902, age: 25). She is the eldest, the first of the women to join the family. Her marriage to Trueman (not a legal marriage) in 1926 gave her the surname she has adopted today. A New York socialite at the turn of a new century, shrouded and weighed down by the cloak of the previous generations before her, she was poised and prepared to follow in the footsteps of her ancestral predecessors. Looking back, she is almost thankful for her death. Like her adopted sisters, she strives to acclimate herself in an ever changing modern world, though she still retains some traditions of old. When not working with Trueman in his family lab she is following behind him, trying to organize the chaos he leaves behind. She likes to dance in front of her bedroom mirror in which she pretends she is Isadora Duncan. Debora has a strong aversion to alcohol. *Debora has hidden files in their home laboratory that Trueman is unaware of, which include her personal experimentations and studies. Don't tell Trueman.*

Maude (formerly: Ryan) – (Death Date: c. 1944, age: 28). As the wife to the family leader, Ambrose, she is able to hold her own not only with the sisters but with the brothers and husband. Maude's long auburn locks are most usually held in a pony. She rarely lets her hair down, except with her husband. With a softly spoken word she can command almost anyone to her bidding. It is likely why many of the family members look to her for guidance and assurance; her own husband included. At one time she had thought to open her own restaurant or teach cooking in a school. But the gastronomic world was a man's domain. A woman couldn't go beyond her own kitchen. Now she must satisfy her culinary desires through her family. In the early hours of the morning, when Ambrose has retired to bed, she watches old Julia Child's kitchen shows that she has copied from tape onto the new modern DVD's. Cooking is one of her greatest pleasures.

Helen (formerly: Kingdon) – (Death Date: c. 1962, age: 22). One of the youngest sisters on both spectrums of the living scale she is the last sister to be adopted into the family. Even at an early age, she had strong feelings about the level of social injustice in this country, to which she is still striving to make aware in this existence. The product of a bi-racial couple, she had a different upbringing than her husband, Chas. Parents, who instilled in their child convictions that led her to air her grievances to the public. It was at an event in Georgia that her life was unexpectedly taken.

Margaret Ann (formerly: Sloan) – (Death Date: c. 1967, age: 34). The eldest in life living years, she is the youngest of the sisters and the most likely to get into an argument. Her husband, Xavier, and she are equally matched in the hotheaded department. Spending much of her adult life in a mind-expanding commune out west, she has lived a life full of mistakes. She is still sometimes surprised that despite her past she has been allowed to find happiness through her husband and adopted siblings. Margaret Ann is more than likely to be found in her garden, which she tends to each afternoon. Though she has given up the drugs, she still retains some of her hippy sensibilities. She has gardened in the nude in the past, but was asked to stop by her husband. He has delicate senses, she says. Over the years she has collected various mind expanding paraphernalia from all over the world, which she proudly displays around her home and in the main house. Margaret Ann cannot stand profanity, something left over from her living past.

History of the Eidolon Community:

The first recorded account of the Eidolon people date back to ancient civilization in which dark spirits are thought to have come back to influence the living. Throughout recorded history there is evidence of peoples who believed that they had seen or felt the presence of an otherworld entity. Even in a modern world of science and shrewd disbelief in the magical world there are still those who believe in an existence beyond the grave.

The hierarchy of the spirit world can be broken up to categorize the level of supernatural energy in the spectral realm. At the top of the ladder is the Ghost, a non-corporal interactive entity suspended in life-like animation by the elemental energy of the land and the composition of a human soul. The exterior of a ghost is not intangible as many would speculate, though they must use a high level of surrounding energy to maintain their form. St. Augustine is believed to have more than its fair share of ghosts based on its eventful and sometimes bloody history as well as geological energies within its city borders. Many of the local ghosts in St. Augustine have come from other cities because of the pull of this geological honing beacon. The old gates that stand at the north entrance to St. George Street are believed to be the central hub of this elemental energy.

Of the many spiritual forces that do reside in St. Augustine, not all are classified in the genus of the classical phantasm, the ghost. Many of the activities are from residual haunting. These are not persons, but in fact tangible memories that have been imprinted on the environment. Some eye witnesses will explain that the creature seems to perform repeated tasks. These insubstantial forms cannot interact in the way the higher life forms can. Others are ghosts that have faded from extended existence in a kind of deathly old age. They may or may not interact with their surroundings. There are still many underdeveloped theories regarding this species and further inquiry is needed to understand the life cycle of ghostly existence. Cyrus is unwilling to divulge much information on this subject. He is the oldest 'living' ghost in St. Augustine.

The governing system is in some respects a doppelganger of the governing systems found in the living world. The officials who reside over the many cities throughout the United States are overseen by a larger party that is located in the Washington D.C. area. *These officials are not deceased politicians. Some of them are, but most have gone on to other places after their death.*

Much of the local businesses and most especially the tourism trade in St. Augustine are managed by the Eidolon Community. This is accomplished through the living persons known as the S.S. (Spectral Services).The St. Augustine Eidolon community takes great measures to not only protect their interests, but those of the livings who they must use to act on their behalf, (See. Spectral Services) and who are needed to maintain economic prosperity.

Physiology of a Ghost:

Existing in a suspended deathly animation the beings known as ghosts are anything but wispy, vaporous persons. Their forms are composed to resemble their living body, a doppelganger with a human brain imprinted inside these otherworldly bodies. They are tangible and can be touched by those who have been created by the magick of the earth. Living persons are unlikely to see a ghost because of the barrier set in place in a typical living brain. Those with extrasensory development in their brains, a genetic imprint that is found at birth, can see and interact with the ghost entity to varying degrees.

A lack of a human casing does not mean that they should be seen as weak when compared in scope to other paranormal creatures. A spirit can be a very dangerous being. The levels of life essence found in a typical ghost range to about forty or fifty percent to the levels found in the person during life. Some, Clarissa, maintain nearly all of the life essence of her living body. Depending on the strength of the ghost a ghost can manipulate the surrounding energy of their environment, manipulating and reforming it into a means of defense or attack. A ghost is also able to transport themselves through the lateral plane of space and time, a type of teleportation as well as manipulate the tangible objects of the living world. They are telekinetic beings.

Clothing – The recently deceased have imprinted on themselves a death garb. It is permanently connected to their forms psychologically. A ghost may change their clothing like a typical living. The death garb will remain intact and appear when the latest fashion choices are removed or dissolve back into its natural state. The garments created by the Eidolon people are unable to be permanent. Preservatives can be placed within the creation of these articles, but over time the energy is dispersed back into its original state.

Food – The creation of food is not a necessary need for ghostly lifestyle. It is a cultural desire that is left over from each ghosts living past. Eating is a recreation for the ghost where as eating is a biological need for the flesh-eater. Food is a manipulation and uses the effect of magick to create a product that is very close to its original living counterpart. *Clarissa is the only ghost of known existence who is able to consume living food and drink. That is very strange, indeed.*

St. Augustine Eidolon Citizens: (Grave Danger)

Henry Portier – (Death Date: c. 1924, age: 43). The appointed polestar for the newly deceased, he helps those new citizens get settled and acquainted with the rest of the St. Augustine deathly community. Originally from Baltimore, Maryland, Henry moved to the St. Augustine area in 1938. His quick smile usually hides his true feelings from those closest to him. Behind those sweet dimpled smiles and laughing eyes is a wounded soul that is in desperate need to be healed. As a long standing member on the advisory council under the direction of The Four, Henry is sought out for his great diplomacy. He is also a personal favorite of Isabella Canova. Many speculate that Henry is her personal play thing.

Eleanor Masters – (Death Date: 1858, age: 38). A native of Savannah, Georgia, she is usually soft spoken with a sweet southern disposition. The petite blonde is easily riled by those who rub her the wrong way, even those closest to her. She moved to the St. Augustine area sometime in the 1960's during a great restoration time in the area. Eleanor is very tuned into the elements of the paranormal world and makes it a priority to know as much about her fellow deathly neighbors as possible. She is sometimes judgmental, but always sincere. An insightful woman who is always trying to match up unattached ghosts, she is unable to recognize a perfect match for herself.

Richard Pomar – (Death Date: c. 1983, age: 33). He is the resident poltergeist. He spends much of his after-life messing with the minds of the tourist who have come to St. Augustine for a good, hopefully safe, scare. His move from California shortly after his death led him to oldest city, St. Augustine. He feels it is his obligation to keep up the paranormal appeal of the city. Unfortunately Richard is stuck in the time period of his death, both physically and mentally. He is unable to move on in this life or stop his impossible attraction to someone he believes is too far out of his ghostly league. He is impossibly in love with Elisabeth (Lizzy) Sands, but is sure she does not reciprocate. (Phantasm Fantasy –Book 4). He, Josh, and two more ghostly members form the garage band group the Deadbeats.

Clarissa Schofield – (Death Date: Oct. 13, 2009, age: 29). *Grave Danger was written and set in Oct. 2009. My best friend's birthday is Oct. 13, hence the death date.* Dead on her birthday, this unusual woman and main character of the first book is left confused and alone in the Orlando hospital when she awakes to realize she's now a ghost. Memories flash through her mind, yet she is unable to piece the fragments of these memories together to form her living past. It has been difficult to acclimate herself to this new existence, as it is for most ghosts. She strives to find her place in the Eidolon world. She is put in a difficult position when she becomes entangled with a being whose kind has been on opposing forces with her new community. When the truth of her past is revealed that she is a Death Bokor, Clarissa is forced to confront her old love, Olivier Prince, and new enemy, Francisco Fatio. Because of them she is compelled to use her gifts. Clarissa is unsure if her gifts are blessed or cursed. (Grave Danger – Book 1)

Diplomatic Authorities of St. Augustine:

Hanna Zespedes – (Death Date: c. 1846, age: 36).

Francisco Fatio – (Death Date: c. 1904, age: 47).

Isabella Canova – (Death Date: c. 1887, age: 16).

Cyrus Cercopoly – (Death Date: c. 1780, age: 27).

These political figures have resided in St. Augustine over the course of many living lifetimes. The prior authorities have long since passed, or are unrecognizable by most of the local citizens. Few can remember a time when these four did not stand over the oldest city, their collective hands moving the pieces of this community. Cyrus is the eldest in otherworldly years, and despite his youthful complexion it is easy to read the years of his existence in his eyes and stoic mannerisms. A Greek immigrant, his tall stature and cold grey eyes are off-putting to most people. Clarissa refers to him as the old man. Followed in line is his close constituent and good friend, Hanna Zespedes. Her ancestral family has lived in St. Augustine since the first beginnings of European colonization. She is followed closely by Isabella Canova, who is nothing like the adolescent she resembles. She has more womanly experience than many women twice her living age. Isabella is also related to the first families of St. Augustine. The last in line is Francisco Fatio who remained an elusive mystery to many of the community's citizens until recently. He was exterminated by Clarissa when it was found out that he, along with Clarissa's ex-fiancé, were killing psychic peoples to increase their abilities. *More will be revealed about Fatio and Prince in the follow ups to Grave Danger*.

Local Businesses/ Owners and Workers:

Happy Haunts

Location: St. George Street Owners Anita and Roger Mendez opened the quaint tavern back in the 1940's to accommodate locals and tourists. After a sun-baked day sight-seeing many livings take a well needed reprieve inside this casual eatery and bar. Catering to both the living and dead the staff is a mix-up of ghostly waiters and those of the living persuasion. Anita and Roger have been married since 1952 when they realized their partnership extended beyond the business. Josh Anders (Death Date: c. 1948, age: 24) coordinates the dead and living staff members. He is also in a garage band with Richard Pomar called the Deadbeats. Clare Diamond is the restaurants ghostly chef. She creates wonders in the culinary arts for her deceased constituents. In her life she was a renowned chef with a specialization in confectionary.

The Boneyard Grill

Location: Off San Marcos Ave., across the street from the Old Jail House. Owner Frederick Vern (Dead Fred) is an expert in the art of Barbeque. He oversees the making of traditional BBQ for his living customers and his responsible for the alternate ghostly version for the Eidolon population. It is an unspoken rule that no alternate forms of condiments be put on his creations (ketchup, mustard, and the like). Those found with these sauces will be asked to leave.

Lizzy's Dress Shop

Location: Charlotte Street Elisabeth Sands (Death Date: c. 1974, age: 26) moved to St. Augustine three years ago from New York where her still living husband lives with his second wife and their family. She is the local dressmaker for the St. Augustine Eidolon as well as a consultant for the larger Eidolon community. A love of fashion has led her to pursue this art even after her death. A petite woman who is unlikely to engage in confrontation, she is involved in a strained relationship with Richard Pomar who treats her kindly one moment and then reverts to cruel remarks the next. Lizzy cannot deny that she is attracted to Richard despite their differences in age and personalities, yet she is unable to move on from her past or her love for her husband. (Phantasm Fantasy – Book 4)

Psychic Imprints

Location: St. George Street, across from Happy Haunts Owned and operated by three generations of Korean women: grandmother Mi Sun Moon, her daughter Hana Scott (Hanna Zespedes and Hana Scott have great fun in addressing each other and are good friends.) * Don't get confused. One is dead and the other is a witch.*... and the final owner Leah Moon, who had her name legally changed to suit her personality and to adopt her grandmother's maiden name. Korean women do not take the last name of their spouses. A local bookstore that caters to independent and small publishing houses and authors, it cannot compete with the larger book depots. Many of the stores most loyal patrons believe in conspiracy theories and the occult.

Mi Sun Moon – A name that means beauty and goodness, she is an intelligent women with special abilities and has schooled her daughter and granddaughter in the ancient arts of her homeland. (S.S.)

Hana Scott – Her name means and flower and favorite. She is the only child of two Korean parents. Her father, living in the States at the time had joined the navy and was stationed just off the coast of North Korea. His future wife was a hostage during a skirmish between the warring Korea's and he save her. He fell in love with her instantly, making arrangements to take her home to the States with him. They married several months later and several more months later they had Hana. Hana's husband is an American with English parents. (S.S.)

Leah Moon – part owner and underpaid worker, Leah calls herself a witch, but that is not an accurate title for her and her families talents. She opens and runs the store for her family, keeping the shelves stocked with paranormal read along with unknown fiction and non-fiction works by new and returning authors. (S.S.)

Dark Spirits

Location: Off of U.S. 1. This newest night club spot is owned and operated by Josephina Palos (More about her in Dead End – Book 2). Only the Eidolon and those in friendly acquaintance with their kind are allowed inside this establishment.

*Necropolis is located in Orlando. It is a real vampire friendly club.*

The Spectral Services (S.S.):

Those of the psychic persuasion are recruited by the Eidolon people to assist in day to day activities for the community. For legal reasons these living persons are used as middle men to ensure that all commercial and residential properties are owned by someone not dead. The dead cannot own property nor operate businesses without a living creature acting on their behalf. The S. S. workers are paid well and are highly respected friends and allies within the ghostly world.

Those who have aspirations of joining must meet the required legal age of twenty-one, or have the closest kin of legal age, or guardian approve one year prior to induction. (Jackson was denied by his parents and would have had to wait until his twenty-first birthday to join. Unfortunately, he will never reach that auspicious age, ever.)

List of some of the S.S. (Spectral Services) Members:

S.S. (Spectral Services) Members (Relationship) S.S. Members Killed (2 month period)

Madeline Connors Cynthia Walters

Leah Moon (friend) Grayson Rogers

Susan Fitzpatrick Lauren Adler

Daniel Shuster

Abigail Shuster

Doreen Miller

Candice Snow (sister) Mary-Ann Gills

Kurt Nelson

Michael Burn (wife) Nancy Burn

Mi Sun Moon

Hana Scott

Jackson Connors – He is the grandson of Madeline (Maddy) Connors and spends most of his holidays and weekends at his grandmother's house in St. Augustine. His parent's house is in Daytona Beach, Florida. A senior in high school, he was unsure about his future. Jackson always had known he was different from his peers. His parents find it difficult to deal with their only child, and put most of their interest in their own lives. Friends with a witch, Leah Moon, and grandson to a woman with abilities as old as time, Jackson is well connected to the supernatural world. His story is fully revealed in Dead End – Book 2, where he meets Kasa Pamuya.

Madeline Connors – Nicknamed Maddy by Henry when she was young, she houses the new locals who come to St. Augustine. Her place acts as a transition area for the newly deceased. Her abilities out defy most of the other S.S. members, and Eidolon people. Her grandson has adopted many of these gifts. (More will be revealed in Dead End – Book 2)

Korean Spiritualism:

Shamanism – A term derived from the Tungus language in Northeast Asia for the term spirit mediums. These individuals who practice healing rituals help their human community live in harmony with themselves, nature, the ancestors, and the spiritual powers in the heavens and through the earth and underworld. This term which you may have heard in Native American terminology has been adopted around the world to refer to people who deal in these religious practices. In the Korean language, a spirit medium is termed a mudang or mansin. They are revered as wise teachers and elders. Many times, these practices are blended with the faith of Buddhism. Most Korean shamans are women. Shamanism is likely the oldest indigenous spiritual system of holistic healing within Korean culture.

The ritual of spirit marriage is conducted to resolve problems of distress from unhappy spirits. (Example: a marriage between a living man and his deceased fiancé, or two deceased people from different families. The ghosts were experiencing distress in the afterlife which caused distress for their families.

The Death Bokor/Death Dealer:

Vodou practitioners – The Bokor is a living person who is able to manipulate and control the undead creatures known as zombies. For the purposes of this world there has been created a sub-order within this religious practice, the Death Bokor/ Death Dealer. Vodou should not be confused with the practices of voodoo or hoodoo, which are traditions, practical magick, found in portions of Louisiana and Southern Florida. Vodou is the religious practice. The Death Bokor is a warrior-like force that has dedicated his/her life to return these creatures to their graves. Still a bokor, they are able to create these creatures and because they are human are easily corruptible.

Bokors and Death Bokors (Grave Danger)

Elmira

Olivier Prince

Clarissa Schofield

Excerpt:

This is the second book in the series which begins several months later after Jackson's death. Those who have already read Grave Danger will recall an explained encounter between the LeMoyne brothers and another 'otherworldly' force. That encounter will be explained further in this work. Everything in a story has a purpose. Happy reading.

Dead End
Chapter 1-

"Relax, kid," Chas barked. "You're jumping around like some kind of deranged jack-rabbit."

Chas and Jackson stood on the Bridge of Lions, the connecting ground that would take them into the historic downtown streets of St. Augustine. It was close to midnight and in a few more minutes they'd be allowed to cross the border where the Eidolon people made their home; ghosts to the rest of the world.

Jackson paced back and forth, stopping to lean from one leg to the other. He still wasn't used to all this. It had been almost a year since he'd stared at the face of death and then been returned to an existence that was less than satisfying.

"Shut up, Chas," he barked back to his older brother. Chas wasn't really his brother, but when you belong to a minority species that pines for the flesh and blood of humans you'll take whatever familiarity you can get.

The LeMoyne's had adopted him so to speak when Clarissa, a Death Bokor, had reversed the process of death and returned him to a semi-living person. It had been an accident that she'd been the one to plunge the Baiser de Mort (Kiss of death) into his heart. She'd believed he was possessed by a demon. He had been possessed, but by a different kind of demonic force; an astri-zombie, Francisco Fatio. He had been, before being destroyed, a leading councilman in the Eidolon Community. He'd used Jackson's body in much the same way as a demon possession. He along with Clarissa's ex-fiancé had been targeting psychic people to increase their own elemental powers, all the while making the corpses of their victims look like they'd been attacked by a flesh-eater or something of a similar genus.

The Eidolon had gone so far as to bring in a death Bokor, Clarissa's ex-fiancé, teacher and murderer to take care of the LeMoyne family for good. Clarissa had confronted Jackson in his possessed state while Jackson was about to take the life of his good friend and witch, Leah Moon. He, Fatio, in a fit of rage had tried to suck out Clarissa's soul. As Clarissa was a ghost - albeit a very powerful one - if he had succeeded it would have destroyed her. She had reacted in self defense. It was difficult for Jackson to blame Clarissa completely for his current state.

Now he was a flesh-eater, what most uninformed persons would call a zombie, and he was staying with a 'family' of them in a high walled commune on Anastasia Island. Jackson would only become a 'zombie' when he abstained from consuming the life essence found most abundantly in the human species. Too bad it required death to get it from them. Though Trueman was struggling to find a way to get around this singular need and hopefully find a satisfying alternative. But it was taking time.

Corrigan, one of the first flesh-eaters Jackson had met when he was human and somehow befriended was now dating and potentially engaged to before mentioned ghost, Clarissa. Before she was suspended from the Eidolon community for switching sides, she was staying with his grandmother who was an S.S (Spectral Services – workers for the Dead). Jackson had found out from personal experience that Clarissa wasn't a typical ghost. Most of her life essence had stayed with her in death including her Bokor powers and she'd found true love in a creature she had once been taught to destroy.

Jackson was aware that Corrigan had almost died, a true death, when he went on an abstinence run during the first weeks of their secretive courtship because he couldn't stand the deaths anymore.

He wasn't the only one who had such thoughts.

And somehow during an argument with the motley crew of brothers, Trueman, the mad scientist of the bunch, had come up with the concept of using Clarissa. She was already dead. He hoped to harvest part of her life essence from her to be used to supplement their diet.

Until then, though, using the living was the only way to survive. The life essence coursing through the human's blood and tissue, like a breathing/living entity, was what supplied the necessary nourishment for his kind to survive. If not they became the true monsters of the night, the kind of creatures you'd see on the silver screen and in books.

Jackson inhaled a deep breath. Scratching his blonde head with one hand he leaned the other against the cold side of the bridge. His cornflower blue eyes scanned the downtown area, his senses reaching out to find a target. Maude, the wife of the head of the family, Ambrose, had tried to teach him how to find those that death had marked. It was a subtle sign that helped them find those who the world would not miss and be better without if they were gone. Even still it was a death, no matter how you spun it. It was murder.

However, one of the first rules - not that there was a list of them - was that under no circumstances were they to target the innocent or those that were protected by the Eidolon. At one time Jackson had wanted to be one of those people. He had wanted to work for the Eidolon Community of St. Augustine, a small community within a larger one that stretched the world over. Now he was exiled from them all.

He could never claim innocence again.

"You are seriously bumming me out kid," Chas said, pulling out the buds from his ears and pushing pause on his mp3 player. "And I thought Cor was moody, but you are a veritable storm cloud in an otherwise clear sky. It doesn't do well for the digestive system to be so tightly wound." Chas had theories about limbering up before they went out to hunt. He also liked to steal from his targets, hence the mp3 player he'd stolen and was now sporting on his arm.

"I'm not moody, I'm thinking," Jackson argued. "And stop calling me 'kid', we're almost the same age." Jackson would have his nineteenth birthday in a few weeks, not that it would mean anything. The dead don't age. And anyone who thinks that's cool needs a reality check; some people just don't understand. Their bodies might not change like a normal human, but the years still passed and time can do more than just give you wrinkles.

"Yeah," Chas said, stretching his arms over his head as he stretched. He had been in charge of taking the 'newbie' out to show him how things were done and to make sure he followed family rules. "And how old are turning Jackie boy, eighteen?"

Chas had died at age 20, by his father's hand. A plantation owner in South Carolina, Chas's father had apparently had enough of his by-blow from a slave woman that reminded him too much of himself that it had caused his wife to notice. And the one time Chas had stood up to his father, he'd killed him for it. That had been back in 1836 and yet Chas never forgot.

"I'll be nineteen next month and you're barely twenty," Jackson retorted. "And you don't have the right to call me anything but Jackson," Jackson added angrily.

"I still got a hundred and seventy five years on you, kid." Chas said the last word with cruel inflection. "And unfortunately you'll always be a kid, so get used to it."

That set Jackson over the edge. He came away from the side of the bridge in a flash, grabbing hold of Chas and flinging him to the ground. He crouched down beside him, one hand to Chas's throat. "I'm getting really tired of all of you treating me like I'm some kind of baby that needs to be looked after. I didn't ask to be like this and I didn't ask to be part of your family. So fuck off and leave me the hell alone."

Jackson stood up then, a sneer on his face. "I know what I am. I'm a fucking flesh-eater, worse than dead and I'm sick of you all reminding me of what I lost. Every day I wake up thinking it was all a dream and I can go home. That I can go back to school and see my friends and my grandma," he paused, trying to push down that lump that always formed when he thought of his grandmother. His parents had told him flat out that he was no longer welcome in their home and that his grandmother, due to her psychic gifts was too much of a temptation for his baser beast to be around. "But I can't go back," he finished in a tight voice.

Chas was on his feet in an instant. Part of them was animal and because of that the beast in them gave them certain abilities; agility and swiftness one of them. The second was the means to communicate with one of their own through psychic wave lengths. Jackson never used this link to converse with his new family; ever.

"Listen," when Chas would have said kid he stopped, seeing Jackson's frown. "Jackson, I spent the first years of this existence by myself. I didn't have anyone telling me how all this was supposed to work. I lived in caves and burned out huts, eating whatever living creature crawled under my door at night. And that's a shit load better than the other's had to deal with. So staying in a nice room in Ambrose's home isn't the worst place you could be. Don't forget that there are still people out there who want us dead and those who wouldn't mind looking the other way."

Jackson turned away from Chas on a snort. He was still pissed, but he was smart enough not to comment. Olivier Prince, the bastard who had murdered his friend Clarissa, almost extinguishing her life for good. He had been the catalyst to convince Francisco Fatio to take over Jackson's body so he could absorb the life essence and psychic energy from the kills and as yet he was still at large. Prince was a strong death Bokor and the flesh-eaters worst enemy. They all knew that he hadn't gone far and it would only be a matter of time before he returned to St. Augustine.

As for those who would turn the other cheek, that would be the Eidolon people. The flesh-eaters and they weren't on the friendliest of terms. It didn't help much that they each had something the other wanted. Ghosts were made from a human soul, the energy of the earth and some of the life essence that they had in life. The Classical Phantasm had about half of their original life essence. Clarissa had more. And it downgraded from there; residual hauntings and the like. But a ghost did not possess flesh and blood, a thing that the flesh-eaters did. And ghosts didn't fit into the human world and so much of the livings refused to acknowledge them.

The flesh-eaters lost most of their life essence, but gained the advantage of flesh and blood. The livings could see them. However the flesh-eaters preferred as little contact with their targets as possible. They didn't play with their food. The flesh-eater medical condition was like an anemic hemophiliac in humans and if they didn't constantly replenish what their body destroyed inside them then they'd become deranged. The livings supplied a basic need for the flesh-eater and friendship was never an option.

There were prejudices a plenty on all sides and for the most part Jackson had thought that he'd been impartial to them all. Yet now that he was one of these demonized species, his objectivity seemed to leave him as quickly as the blood that flowed through his un-dead veins.

"It's about time you dragged your lazy ass out of bed," Jackson heard Chas call down to the dark figure moving quickly up the bridge. There were still cars passing up and down the bridge, but none of them really noticed the night demons of St. Augustine.

Jackson turned in time to see Corrigan leap from the darkness, nearly on top of him. The older man had him about the neck in a light choke hold, holding him in place while he messed up his hair. Corrigan wasn't a small man. Standing at about six feet, six inches tall with the muscles of someone who worked out regularly, the weight of his light hold on Jackson's throat would have done some serious damage if Jackson had still been human.

"Get off me," Jackson yelled, trying to back out from his brother's hold. "You're cutting off my air supply." He wasn't.

Corrigan let go quickly. Like the others he was wearing jeans and a dark colored t-shirt. His was midnight blue, a shade that complimented his iridescent blue eyes. Chas wore army green, his emerald green eyes off set in a light mocha complexion a half shade darker than his wife's. Jackson chose to wear black as he'd been mourning his death regularly for almost a year.

Corrigan had been a sailor before his death in 1853 at the hands of his own brother. Since he'd met Clarissa he'd begun to open up to the rest of the family, telling them of his days as a slave to his bokor mistress, Elmira. He'd escaped after her death and traveled to the States, finding the LeMoyne family and now he'd found his forgotten soul in Clarissa. Jackson was glad for him even if he didn't outright show it.

His brother was almost a different man since finding Clarissa. Jackson was indebted to Corrigan for saving him from some thugs several years back when he'd been a stupid teen. That man had been moody and almost completely soulless. And now... well now he was actually happy, as happy as any brooding nineteenth century Irish man can get.

Jackson watched with an almost sour expression as Corrigan leapt up on to the railings of the bridge. He looked like he was doing some kind of Gene Kelly, Dancing in the Rain moves. Jackson recalled that they'd watched the film recently during family movie night. Margaret Ann, the youngest sister with the oldest living experience had got to make the choice.

"It's a great night, boys. It almost feels like fall is coming early to Florida." Corrigan looked out on the downtown streets, the lights twinkling from the shops and restaurants as people were still milling about in the late night hours. It seemed a little cooler tonight than usual, a nice reprieve from the hot, humid weather of summer.

"Watch out for the new students around Flagler," he continued, jumping down from his perch. "The girls said they found some of them wandering about in the dark. They were lost and more than likely intoxicated. One of them actually asked if he could touch Helen's teeth."

"What did she say to him?" Chas questioned, his face turning stern. Helen was his wife and Chas had a tendency to be overly protective of her.

Corrigan laughed at his brother's expression. He'd likely harbor the same thoughts if someone had wanted to touch Clarissa. The glow of her soul, she was like an earth bound angel. She was so enthralling in her otherworldly form that it was hard not to stare or want to reach out and touch her. But it was at his touch that her soul shone the brightest, becoming almost complete.

When Corrigan didn't answer right away Chas wacked him against his shoulder trying to get his attention back on focus. He stared up at his usually moody younger brother. Chas was several inches shorter, about Jackson and Trueman's height, while Ambrose was closer to Corrigan's. Xavier, the volatile Spanish conquistador, was the shortest brother.

Corrigan was smiling, a faint turn of the mouth, and his eyes were staring off into his own head. "Hey," Chas yelled, punching him in the arm this time. "What did my wife say?"

The man shook his head, remembering where he was. "Helen told the kid he had to buy her dinner before she'd even let him near her mouth," Corrigan paused to laugh as he remembered his sister telling him of their adventures with the new college students, "and only if he let her have several of his fingers afterward as payment."

Chas just shook his head at that. "She's going to drive me insane one of these days. You're lucky yours stays home at night."

Corrigan laughed hard at that, his head flung back. "You think I can keep Clarissa on a short leash?" He shook his own head at his brother's ill informed ideas about his and Clarissa's relationship. "I have as much control over Clarissa as you do over Helen. They're true modern women and when she's not off with her ghost friends or living friends she's off on her grand adventures with our brother, Trueman. Not to mention her continuous hunt for 'him'." His voice sobered at that point. Corrigan never said Princes name. "I worry about her all the time. But I can't do anything about it, not unless I want to sleep out in the living room."

"And speaking of that," Chas said folding is arms over his chest, "When are you two going to move out and find your own place?" They'd been living in the main house, Ambrose's house, for months now. The other siblings had their own homes on the property except for Corrigan, Clarissa and now Jackson.

Jackson wasn't listening to his brother's conversation anymore. He was staring off into the city below them. Each night they'd go out hunting for their survival and each night he felt another piece of his humanity was leaving him. And there was nothing, no one, to anchor him or keep him from becoming the monster that threatened to steal his very soul away.

Chapter 2-

"Kasa, wake up."

Kasa opened her eyes a fraction, the long dark lashes over her pale gold eyes fluttering for a moment until she opened them wide, seeing the face hovering over her head. It was her roommate, Natalie Quinn. Her high glossed lips were just inches above Kasa's and it took everything in her not to push the other woman away.

She'd hurt her if she did that.

Natalie pulled back, a smile creeping over her mouth as she stood next to Kasa's bed. "You can't possibly be sleeping." The younger woman was dressed in a pair of tight skinny jeans, a sheer top that refused to be modest no matter how you layered over it and strappy heels that said that they meant business. And the product they were selling was pure and simple sex.

Kasa Pamuya let air flow in and out of her lungs as she slowly sat up. A quick look at her alarm clock next to her on the night stand revealed that it was around three in the morning. She reached over and switched on her table lamp.

"Yes," she answered with a slight squint as her eyes became accustomed to the soft light of the lamp. "The eyes closed thing usually means I'm sleeping." It wasn't overly bright, but Kasa would have been just as comfortable without the light. She could see every detail of Natalie in total darkness, but it would have seemed odd, not human, if they continued conversing in the dark.

Throwing back the covers, Kasa sat up revealing her red silk pajamas that felt so soft against her skin and the stripped red and blue printed sheets on her bed. She watched carefully as Natalie sauntered about the room in her heels and if the younger woman had been paying attention she would have thought Kasa's stare almost predatory.

Kasa never wore heels and she had no idea why so many of woman-kind would put themselves at such a disadvantage in them.

"You are aware that it's the weekend." Natalie said smartly. "And that going out at night is practically expected with the college student lifestyle. It's seriously a crime against nature to sleep through these most precious hours of your life."

What did Natalie know about nature, Kasa thought, beyond her human manicured lawns and self contained parks? Nothing.

Natalie flipped on more lights, the room becoming overly bright. Kasa squinted with pain this time. Some would say she was solophobic or photophobic, but that wasn't true. The day light hours were just fine and she enjoyed spending time under the rays of an afternoon sun. Kasa just needed the appropriate protection against it.

"I don't like to drink and loud noises in tiny places irritate me." Kasa folded her legs in front of her, her tan arms resting lightly over them. Her dark blonde locks fanned out around her small but sturdy body, the ends resting on the sheets. Kasa took a section of her hair, bringing it over her lap and running her fingers through it.

She'd threatened her mother with cutting it all off if she wouldn't allow her to go to university. Secretly, Meda had worried her lips till they bled over that threat. Then she'd cried herself to sleep for weeks. But on one rainy day in early spring her mother had come to her room in the wee hours of dawn to whisper in her daughter's ear.

"You may go to your university, but know this daughter of mine," she had paused, her breathing cut short as if she were holding her breath. When she continued it was with a strained voice that Kasa could not have made out if not for being what she was. "When you return home it will be to take your place as your father's daughter and to secure our place in this world. If not then don't return at all. I give you this freedom for only a short time, a choice I never had at your age."

Kasa opened her eyes at that last statement, only to find she was once again alone in her dimly lit room. Meda had spoken little since then, shutting herself away as if in preparation for Kasa's departure. Several months later Kasa had packed up her belongings, what few there were, and set herself up in the dormitories of Flagler College.

She had thought she'd interred her old life along with her father's body miles away in South Florida. Lately though, as much as she tried to prevent it, she found her baser nature calling from within her soul. It was angry at being left so long inside this singular form and the panther wanted free.

Training herself to sleep like a human had been difficult at first. But she had grown accustomed to sleeping during the night. The truth was, though, that Kasa had not been asleep as Natalie had accused. But it was better Kasa feigned sleep than to allow her-self the freedom to wander the streets; as her other self yearned to seek out the night, to seek out the hunt.

"Whatever," Natalie replied in a manner that greatly irritated Kasa. She had not fully grown accustomed to these idioms in human culture. Nor did she appreciate her roommate's disrespectful attitude. If she had been one of her kind, she would have paid most dearly for her impudent tone.

But this was not Kasa's familiar domain and like it or not she was a commoner among these singularly formed humans. And Kasa could blame no one but Kasa for putting herself in this world.

Someone knocked on the door. Natalie went to answer it, throwing the door open wide to reveal a guy Kasa had never seen before. Though she rarely paid much attention to the details of these humans, after a while one looked very much like another and it was sometimes difficult to differentiate between them. Only their smells were unique, but Kasa never allowed herself close enough to remember these distinct perfumes. Living with Natalie these few weeks, she was probably the only one Kasa could properly track the scent of.

"How did you get up here?" Kasa heard Natalie ask. They lived in the female dormitories in the Ponce de Leon Hall that also housed the administration building and dining hall. It was off limits for anyone of the male gender which was the reason for Natalie's question.

"I snuck up when she wasn't looking downstairs," Chris answered with his perfected male grin. Kasa thought he might be a nice enough guy, but the look of him, right now leaning against the door frame, read 'smarmy jerk' all over his tall athletic physic. The perfect posture, the tailored clothes and pristinely placed locks of product coated cranium follicles. He wore an aura that said he was well aware that he was one of the most attractive of his species. But he was weak in areas that would matter to Kasa and her own kind.

Natalie pulled him into the room before any of their neighbors decided to peek out of their rooms at that moment. She quickly closed the door, turning around to lean against it.

Christopher Evans, a third year sports management major, made himself at home on Natalie's brown and sea foam green bed spread.

Kasa's expression drew into a frown, her teeth biting down in her mouth so the elongated canines scraped against the inside of her lip almost drawing blood. It was a bold gesture for a male to rub his scent on a female's property; it said ownership, not just of the object, but of the owner of that object.

If this male touched anything that belonged to Kasa, she would kill him. It was not an act of violence, but those that did not protect all that they treasured with loved ones included in that assessment then they did not deserve to have anything at all.

Christopher scanned Natalie's room, his gaze traveling to the young woman on the other bed. At first he hadn't even noticed she was sitting there, so quiet and still with her red silk pajamas blending into the red coloring of her bed. She was shorter than Natalie. Where Natalie was long and lanky with sharp angles and short dark brown hair, this woman was soft and curvy with long blonde hair all packed inside a body that seemed vulnerable, making her seem younger than she should be.

But it was an illusion.

Somehow, despite her childlike exterior, there was an overwhelming aura of lethal intensity in this woman. The set of those pale gold eyes that matched the sun kissed skin tone and the shinning halo of hair, all of it combining to create the picture of a golden goddess; a goddess that was at that moment glaring angry golden rays of hate at him.

"How did you manage to sneak past her?" Natalie asked, forcing Chris's attention back to her. The woman in the administrative office at the base of the staircase that lead up to the girl's dormitories was extremely watchful of those that passed by her window.

"I used some girls who were going up as well placed decoys. It was actually quite easy once I got past her window." Chris reclined on the bed, his hands placed behind his head. Still, though, he felt those pale gold eyes on him; watching.

"Kasa," he heard Natalie bark at her roommate. "Stop glaring at Chris like that, you're making him uncomfortable."

Kasa shrugged her shoulders, but did not apologize to the man. She was a powerful figure in her community and he was just another silly human man. She didn't have to apologize to him.

Once again she had to remind herself that she was the minority in this world. It was her pride and that of her kind that had allowed them to become the few in a world of human dominance.

Kasa turned away, letting her long dark blonde hair cover her in a veil of obscurity. It was only when she knew that the humans could not see her that she let her mouth open revealing the long canine points of her teeth. Kasa allowed herself the luxury of making a horrible enraged face to the poster of a Don Juan print on the wall, one that she would have rather made at the man and woman across from her. Then she composed herself with a quiet exhalation of breath.

As a child she had been warned repeatedly not to show her teeth at the singular formed beings, that they would take her away and do horrible things to her if she revealed her otherworldly difference. At the time Kasa didn't understand that she was different from other children. At home she was just like everyone else, her teeth and bi-form body was no different or special than any other.

At one time her kind had been the elite in this world, stretching across the Eastern border of the United States. Then, several hundred years ago the human pilgrims from across the sea had staked a claim on protected land. These humans lived a different culture, a superior culture to their way of thinking, and believed fearfully that Kasa's ancestors were soulless animals to be used or destroyed. Their numbers steadily depleted from unusual sickness and diminishing land and as a result their once expansive population was relegated to the areas in the southern states of America: Louisiana, South Carolina, Georgia and Florida. In the following decades their numbers had dwindled to so few that now all that was left of the were-panther species lived in a small pocket of land in South Florida.

Kasa was one of the last of the ancient ones through her father. She was a figure head for her people, the physical personification of their culture and values that was fast crumbling with forced assimilation and modernization. The fact that Kasa was even now attending a university that valued human ideals above her own said that the strength of the were-panther was all but a dead mythology in American culture.

Natalie was preening in front of Chris, an act that in some respects ran consistent with other animals of this world. And whether the humans liked/believed it or not they too were an animal species. Their proud civilized nature was merely a shroud about their forms, like their clothing, hiding the natural beast within. Though Kasa was wise enough to give them credit; from a scholarly and objective perspective the humans were beautiful at times. Their love of art and music was something her kind did not think as important, not when compared to more practical crafts. Her species did not have the luxury of idleness. Survival was the singular objective in these modern times.

Secreted in her heart, though, where none could see, Kasa wanted to be a painter.

Watching the couple from the privacy of her hair Kasa observed the mating rituals of these odd species. How strange, she thought, how they looked so similar to her own form and yet they were not. After a few more moments of watching them she had had quite enough. And not particularly interested in voyeurism, Kasa rose from her bed to go to her dresser.

"Where are you going?" she heard Natalie say to her as she pulled out some articles of clothing. It was more for show than need.

For what Kasa had in mind she would not need these confining garments. Humans had a very strong sense of modesty that her kind did not possess. Yes, they liked pretty clothes and wore them with pride. Yet clothes were cumbersome and ill suited for her other half. And unlike the humans her species had great pride in their animal counterpart; what the humans feared in themselves as well as in others.

"I'm going out, just like you advised," Kasa said smartly, adapting the same tone her roommate had cultivated over her short lifetime and which Kasa quickly learned in the weeks rooming with her. Using such a tone would have been seen as disrespect in her world, but Kasa was finding that the humans did not always take it as such. And they did not always adhere to their own rules of inflection and meaning in their words. So Kasa was fairly sure that Natalie would think nothing of her tone, or she wouldn't care.

"Don't go too far off campus," Chris commented, his arm slinking around Natalie's barely covered back. "It's not safe this late at night. Several students were found dead a few months back from an unknown cause. The authorities are still investigating the crimes. So far, though, all the leads seem to run a dead end in one way or another."

"I will keep that in mind, thank you," Kasa answered back, her mismatched clothes tucked in her arms. Meda had never really taken the time to instruct her daughter on current fashion. Nor did she impart any judgment on what Kasa chose to wear as no one in her small community would even think to ridicule Kasa's fashion decisions.

Kasa left the room, forgetting at the last moment her keys. Turning back to the room she found Natalie with her set of keys looped through her perfectly polished fingers. "I thought you might need these."

"Thanks," Kasa said, taking them from her roommate. "Don't wait up," she said and walked away. If Natalie noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes she didn't have time to comment.

Chapter 3-

Standing outside of Happy Haunts, a local tavern owned by Anita and Roger Mendez, resident ghosts, Jackson and his brothers waited for the women to meet up with them. Only recently were they allowed to hang out at the Eidolon establishment.

Most of St. Augustine's businesses and visitor recreations were owned and operated by ghostly hands. With the help of the S.S. they ran much of the city. Though they were still not overly friendly toward the LeMoyne family, there was less open hostility. At Clarissa's influence she'd gotten the owners to let her new family come to the tavern well after hours when most of the living and the ghosts would have returned to their homes.

Jackson's new family had stock on Anastasia Island and the commercial real estate they sold kept them monetarily satisfied. They had property further inland too and outside St. Augustine. Several decades' back Ambrose had made a hefty sum from selling a sizable portion of swamp land to the Disney Corporation. They invested the profits and have never wanted for anything since.

"What's taking them so long?" Jackson muttered to himself as he stood a distance from the brothers who reclined against the side of the building. He watched as Chas was making subtle movements of his head to the sound filtering through the ear buds stuck in his ears. He noticed Trueman wiping invisible smears from his faux glasses while Xavier was studying one of many of his collection of daggers. Corrigan was playing with his new cell phone that Clarissa had picked out for him, laughing softly to whatever amused him on the bright screen.

Jackson looked to Ambrose, the leader of their family, who stood next to Corrigan. His head was thrown back against the solid wall behind him, his eyes closed and his arms folded over his chest.

If Jackson were honest with himself he'd say that Ambrose freaked him out more than the others. Not that he'd want to get into an all out brawl with any of them. But while he knew that Chas, Corrigan or even hot tempered Xavier might rough him up a bit for mouthing off once too often, it was Ambrose who possessed a calm lethalness that kept Jackson from airing his grievances to the eldest brother. If Ambrose gave the word, and his word was law in the family, he could have Jackson exterminated and none would be the wiser.

The LeMoyne family governed themselves outside of the law of most others. They held life and death over their own kind and those that got in their way.

Ambrose opened his eyes a moment before he spoke. "Clarissa's coming." Then he closed them, continuing to stand in that still position like he was resting when the truth was far from that.

An instant later Jackson felt a change in the energy patterns around him. The lateral plans of time move rather consistently floating with the streams of earth bound energies. Humans used these energies in lesser degree than other earth bound creatures and it was easy to find the patterns that they made on the planet. A ghost, however, used the earth's energy in its fundamental component, making and molding it to form what they needed to survive.

Clarissa manifested behind Jackson, her presence sucking the flow of energy around her like a breathing magnet.

"How do you do that, Ambrose?" Clarissa asked with a chuckle. She touched Jackson's shoulder for a second, walking around to look him in the eyes.

Clarissa was another one who freaked him out sometimes. Like Ambrose she was deceivingly nice when the truth was that she could take down any of his new brothers and himself with little more than a wave of her delicate non-corporal hand.

"Hi, Jackson," she said, reaching up to kiss him on his cheek. She was his sister now, had taken a special initiative to see that he was adjusting to his new existence. They had been friends before his death so it hadn't been difficult to accept her as his sister. Over these past months, she was one of the only ones he felt he could talk to openly. His brother Corrigan came in a close second.

"Hi," he answered back.

Clarissa gave him one of her dazzling smiles before she made her way over to her boyfriend, possibly future husband. Jackson watched as she fell into Corrigan's embrace. In a strange way it was like they had been made for each other. Despite their biological and social differences some divining light had made them compatible.

"Why are you guy's waiting outside?" Clarissa asked, looking between her brothers.

"We were waiting for you?" Xavier answered, concealing his weapon under his clothes. "The woman doesn't like us in her establishment if you're not with us. Your spook friends are exceedingly rude and I know she's been giving me the evil eye when I ask to have my meat served rare. I don't care about health code violations, I am the customer and Casper is just the cook, what I want is paramount."

Clarissa suppressed the urge to laugh at her brother. Xavier was the most vocal of the bunch and he wasn't one to shy away from sending things back to the kitchen. Clare did sometimes throw dark looks over at him when she thought he wasn't looking. She should tell him that if he wanted the ghosts to like him then he shouldn't refer to them as 'spooks' or 'Casper'.

"They should be used to your visits by now," Clarissa said instead. She went over to the seemingly closed tavern and knocked on the front door. Several seconds later it was cracked open revealing a single eye and part of a face. Clarissa put on a cheerful smile waiting until the person inside, Clare, recognized it was her.

"Oh," she exclaimed, throwing open the door. "It's you, Clarissa."

"It's always us, Clare." Clarissa stepped over to grab Corrigan's arm, pulling him into view of Clare. "You remember Corrigan, don't you? And his brothers?" she added indicating the other men who were now moving, gathering around her. Clare eyed each of them falling lastly on Xavier and his stern frown. Clarissa reached behind her and elbowed him in the stomach. He grunted before placing a lopsided smile on his face.

"Yes, I remember. Would you like to come in?" She stepped back revealing the partially lit interior of the tavern.

The LeMoyne family entered the empty tavern, Clarissa leading the way. Jackson was the last to pass by Clare who stood holding the door.

"It's good to see you, Jackson," she said, closing the door behind him.

Jackson frowned down at her, seeing her for the first time in months. He'd never been invited to these after hour hang out sessions with the family, preferring to go back to his room and spend the rest of the evening wallowing in his own misery.

"You too," he said automatically. Clare was a ghost and he'd known her since he was a little kid. Most toddlers were afraid of ghosts and witches and other scary things. Not Jackson, most of the time those kinds of people were his friends. But that had all been when he was human. Now he saw that slight hesitation in Clare's eyes, the way she held herself a little away from as if at any moment he'd forget himself and attack her.

That was the tip of the iceberg for prejudices against his kind, the fear that at any moment he would be unable to control his baser, animalistic needs; it wasn't all that far from true. Yet at one time they'd all been human. Lost to the lives they had, yet still able to hold onto the remaining shreds of their humanity.

Jackson knew that what held his adopted family together and kept them from becoming monsters was the bond they had with each other. As hard as this existence was they at least had each other to fall back on when the rest of the world wanted them back in their graves.

Yet Jackson was still an outsider in their family. He didn't have the years shared between the brothers or the sisters or the new found love between Clarissa and Corrigan. His lack of history kept him apart. Nor could he resume his friendships with the Eidolon and the S.S. because in their eyes he was 'other' now. Jackson felt like he was floating in a limbo world where no one really wanted him. And if he was gone from this existence would the world be better off?

"Jackson?" he heard Clarissa calling his name. Turning away from Clare he saw his family gathered around a couple of tables that had been pushed together to accommodate them all. Clarissa was turned around in one of the chairs patting the chair on her left, wanting him to join them. It had been her idea for him to be more social with his brothers and sisters.

Jackson walked the distance to sit down next to her, finding Ambrose taking the seat next to him. Looking at them together one would never suspect that Ambrose was so many years older than Jackson. His auburn hair, cut short on the sides but long on top, had the full vitality of a man in his early twenties and in Florida's humid weather tended to curl making him seem even more youthful. The youngest looking of the brothers, and in total contradiction to the truth of his age he was technically the oldest living person in St. Augustine. Of course that varied based on your interpretation of the word living.

Josh came out from the back, his notepad already in his hands. When he saw the family a strange look came over his face. As always his eyes were drawn to Clarissa's form. Plastering a blank mask on his spectral visage he walked up to them.

It wasn't such a surprise to see the flesh-eater family in the tavern. They came by every couple of weeks during the after-hours when the livings were sent home and the ghosts had long since retired to their own haunts. It was usually just him and Clare in the dark hours of the morning.

"What can I get for you?" he asked. Tapping his pen against the pad he tried to keep his face neutral and to look at anyone but Clarissa. She was obviously in love with her flesh-eater boyfriend. What she saw in the creature, he couldn't guess at. She'd been banished from the Eidolon society, but that didn't mean that she couldn't come into the city at night with her new found family. And those few ghosts who she'd come to make friends with, himself included hadn't let their political differences keep them from welcoming her into their homes and places of business.

Clare liked to come up with new sweet treats she thought Clarissa might like. She was also hoping that Clarissa would let her make her and Corrigan's engagement cake, making an effort of course to use 'real' ingredients. Clarissa was one of the only ghosts that any of them new about that could consume 'real' food.

"The usual," Maude said, walking into the tavern. She made a polite nod to Clare before she continued through to the tables. Her sisters followed close behind her, their earlier conversation continuing as they made their way to the waiting men.

Clare made a gesture with her hand to Josh before she vanished back into the kitchens. It took a lot of effort for a ghost to create foods and drinks for the 'flesh' creatures of this world. Clare had been a renowned chef in her living days and because of this she was sought after for her culinary talents with the Eidolon people. Preparing non-tangible food and drink wasn't an easy task either. The average ghost couldn't just whip up a meal without a little knowledge.

Josh watched as the flesh-eater women moved to sit next to their husbands. If he wasn't aware of what these women were he would just think them ordinary females. That was one of the deceiving lures of the flesh-eater. Simply looking upon them didn't hint at their otherworldly nature "If that's all," he began, "I'll bring out your drinks in a minute."

"You do that Casper," Xavier remarked just as Josh disappeared before their eyes.

His wife Margaret Ann laughed, but punched him in the arm just the same. "I don't think Clarissa appreciates the way you treat her friends." She looked down the table to see Clarissa frowning at Xavier. "See," she said. "I thought we were going to try being nicer to the ghosts."

"I still don't trust those vaporous elitists. They think they control the world and everybody in it and if you don't follow their rules then you're demonized."

There was some truth to that. The Eidolon liked to control their world and as far as they could see the flesh-eaters were abnormalities that had to be controlled or run the risk of total pandemonium in their city.

"You wouldn't believe what we saw today," Helen spoke up, trying to turn the conversation. She knew what would happen when her brother started talking politics about the Eidolon and their place in this world. It never ended very well and the last thing she wanted to do was break up another quarrel. Clarissa was a ghost. Sometimes they forgot that. She was one of them and yet she was able to straddle the lines and be a member of their family.

"Oh, yes," Clarissa exclaimed, even as she winked at her sister. "It was the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. At first we thought it was some kind of aberration because they don't usually come this far up north."

"It was female," Maude added, flipping her long auburn pony tail over her shoulder. "The females are much smaller in form and they don't travel as far as the males do. So I wonder how she could have made it this far without a male to protect her. She didn't seem lost or confused. If I didn't know better I'd say that she was quite accustomed to tromping through the city."

"What are you talking about?" Chas questioned his sister.

"We saw a panther," Helen answered him instead. She looked to her brother, Ambrose, "a were-panther."

The room became instantly quiet as all heads turned to Ambrose. He was staring at the far wall, his expression blank. Nearly four years ago he and his brothers had been attacked by a were-panther. It had been sick and confused. There was no other recourse left to them but to put the creature down. The large male panther had sliced through Ambrose's clothing, sinking his claws deep into his flesh, barely missing the major arteries. It had taken quick action by his brothers, Corrigan and Trueman, to destroy the animal and to get him back to their commune and patch him up before he bled out.

The flesh-eater's had a denser layer of tissue than typical human skin, but otherworldly creatures had a bad reputation of having extremely sharp extremities. Once a puncture through the skin happened, even a small bleed could be devastating as Ambrose's system didn't clot like the livings.

The were-panthers to the south could claw through steel if given the chance. They could easily shred the nearly stalwart flesh of the flesh-eaters. More animal than man, their species attacked relentlessly anything they believed a threat to them until the threat was destroyed. Ambrose had almost died that night; again.

"Did she see you?" Ambrose asked in a deadpan voice, not looking at any of them.

"No," Maude answered for the sisters. "We stayed far enough away and with all the other smells around us she couldn't discern our 'particular' scent." The 'particular' scent was death. Death wore a heavy, pungent cologne. Those that he came into contact with were left with a residue of it on them, one that did not wash or wear away over time. Difficult to place on the senses, it was described by people as being floral and cloying or by others as bitter and arid; different notes for different temperaments and interpretations.

Ambrose took his wife's delicate hand, holding it within his larger one. At one time he had been a simple farmer with hands ruff from hard labor and endless hours of toiling work. Maude, despite her unflattering namesake, had once been a beautiful young woman on the verge of marriage and with the hope of a family. She was still very beautiful, but she could never claim the innocence of youth. Both those lives were far behind them, distant memories enveloped in a painful reality.

Taking her hand he brought it to his mouth, kissing the tender fleshy side. "That is good. We will make extra sure not to engage her or make our presence known during her hunting hours. She'll likely move on into the interior of the State before the fall."

"And if she doesn't?" Xavier asked, his hand going to one of many of his concealed weapons.

"If she is sick like the other," Ambrose paused, turning his attention to Jackson next to him. Jackson was a rare find in this world. He was gifted, or cursed, however you look at it, with abilities he inherited from his grandmother. In his deathly animated state his elemental powers were more than evident, intensified because of the magick used on him by Clarissa's re-animation.

Jackson was young, but the young should not be discounted. Though he had accepted his existence and tolerated their family rules, he was not at peace with being one of them. There was no tie to this family that would make Jackson loyal to them. Ambrose's first priority was to protect the family even if that meant protecting those in the family from others in it.

Ambrose continued, looking to the faces of his family, his sisters and brothers in spirit. "Her sickness cannot contaminate the creatures in our community. If she is indeed sick like the male then we will be forced to put her down." Resting his focus on Xavier he said. "But keep your distance from her. She is no threat to us."

"If she is traveling in the city as you say then she is the Eidolon's responsibility." Ambrose made his remark to Clarissa. She nodded her head in understanding.

"I'm sure the 'old man' is aware of her by now." Clarissa made a disgusted face before leaning into the side of Corrigan. He put his arm around her as she snuggled closer to his side.

The 'old man', as Clarissa had called him, was Cyrus Cercopoly. He was the lead councilman within the St. Augustine Eidolon community. His ruling party had consisted of two females and two males. Hanna Zespedes was the closest to his age, dying at the age of 36 in 1846. Her female constituent was a sixteen year old girl who was anything but a child. Her death from the white plague in 1887 had left her spirit suspended in ageless time, but she was all too aware of her adult female experience and used her flimsy ethics to influence any who were fool enough to come near her. At 27, Cyrus looked far from his 'old man' nick-name. His temperament toward most of his constituents and enemies, however, revealed him to be a touch on the rigid side. He was also partial to chilling frowns that didn't inspire friendliness.

Cyrus had kicked Clarissa out of his precious community as well as being the one responsible for bringing Olivier Prince into their city. If he wasn't hated by the LeMoyne family, he certainly wasn't well liked. Cyrus didn't care much for the flesh-eater family either, as his experience with their kind had a left a permanent scar on his psyche.

"Here are your drinks," Josh said, intruding on the conversation as he came through the kitchen door with a tray. No one could be sure if Clare and Josh hadn't been listening.

Chapter 4-

"Where are you going, Jackson?" Clarissa asked as she followed him out the front door of the tavern of Happy Haunts. But instead of turning right like the others ahead of them he had turned left and was heading up St. George Street toward the Old City Gates.

"I'm just going for a walk," he answered back, not turning around even as he heard her following him. "It's not quite dawn yet and I'm not tired enough to go to sleep."

Suddenly Clarissa appeared before him. Ghosts had the ability to move from point to point in space, a shifting of the atmosphere that was exciting to watch. Or it would have been to Jackson if he didn't find it so annoying.

Blocking him from moving forward down the road he was forced to stop. Placing his most fearsome glower on his face, Jackson folded his arms over his chest and stared down at his new sister.

"You don't want to come back to the house and watch a movie with me then?" Clarissa didn't need restorative sleep like his kind did. Many times when Corrigan was passed out upstairs Clarissa would come down to his room and they'd watch old movies or the Syfy channel. Lately though they'd both become addicted to watching the re-make of the Doctor Who show from the 60's on BBC America.

It had helped in those first few months to have her there, someone he knew from his old life, someone who was as new to being in the world of the dead as he was. When he'd wake up to find himself in the unfamiliar room in Ambrose's house it was Clarissa he'd see sitting at the edge of his bed, smiling at him and telling him it had only been a bad dream. How she had known he'd had bad dreams, Jackson couldn't guess. But Clarissa always seemed more aware of the world around her than most.

Jackson had stopped waking up in the middle of the day when the others were asleep, finally sleeping through until the afternoon. He'd grown used to things, but it didn't mean he had to like it this way. And despite Clarissa's many talents she couldn't give him back the one thing he wanted; his life.

"No," he answered tersely, trying to walk around her. She stopped him with a hand. She was a Death Bokor which meant she had the power to control him. Clarissa was reluctant to use her bokor gifts against the family. But occasionally she would, if the circumstances warranted them. "Let me go, Clarissa." Jackson felt like he was suspended in thick air, his body lethargic and unable to respond to his brains demands. She'd gotten better with practice, relearning her dark craft.

Clarissa looked up at Jackson, her blue eyes taking in more than the visual image of her brother. Her expression was sad as she released him from her hold. "I know you need your space. I only want to protect you, Jackson."

"I don't need to be protected, Clarissa. I'm a flesh-eater. I'm the scary thing that people should be afraid of. What do I have to be afraid of but myself and the fact that at any moment I'll have a mental snap and consume the city?" He looked about at the empty streets, the closed business and restaurants. "I can't be left to wander the streets for fear that I'll break the family rules. I'm not stupid, Clarissa. They don't trust me and quite frankly I don't blame them. I'm trouble. My parents saw it. I'm as good as dead to them." He laughed bitterly. "Well I am dead aren't I, so it's not so fucking far off."

Clarissa sighed. She was really tired of his moody and caustic personality. One melancholy prone Irishman was more than enough, she didn't need another to add to her emotional plate. "The black is so last year, Jackson," she said, pulling at his t-shirt. "You'd look so much better in blue. I remember when you'd wear colors." She touched his scruffy cheek. "I remember when you used to smile."

Jackson pushed her hand away from his face. "I like black. It's a color standard in the fashion world. Plus it's easy to coordinate."

Her face scrunched as she tried to keep the tears for him from falling. Ghosts didn't cry normal watery tear, rather they cried tears of light; energy. Then her face became impassive, hard.

"Death doesn't wear black," Clarissa said in a voice that she only used when she was expending her bokor powers. It was enthralling, a transitory voice that lead all her prey to her whims. "He wears many colors, but black is not one of them."

"Death can go fuck himself," Jackson shouted at her shocked face. Pushing her aside he walked away from her.

"I wouldn't speak of death so lightly, Jackson. He is rarely ever forgiving."

Jackson turned to say something rude back at her, but she was gone. Clarissa had simply disappeared, vanishing into the night. He turned about with a sigh, continuing down St. George.

He hadn't meant to be cruel to her. Of all of them, he should be the nicest to her. But it seemed the more she tried to coddle and help him the more he wanted to lash out at her. He didn't want to be near people, he didn't want this new family of flesh-eaters, he didn't want anything these people were trying to provide for him, home, friendship, kindness, understanding. He just wanted...he just wanted...

"I just want to die."

Chapter 5-

The world smelled different when she was in this form. The humans tried so hard to disguise the smell of her world, closeting themselves in their stale and temperate environments.

Kasa breathed deeply. This was the natural world, the smell of dying leaves and dirt, the scent of little critters buried in the soil or hiding in the trees. She would miss this when she had to return to school and to her disguise as a normal human woman.

Even though this was the city and not her native hunting grounds in the southern wilderness of Florida, there were plenty of marsh lands and forests here in the northern part of the state. Kasa had traveled along the St. John's River with her father as girl, watching the men in the river boats fishing. It had been so quiet out there, restful and safe. There was too much congestion with the humans at home, drawing ever closer to her people, and many of her kind died from their carelessness.

Tonight, however, she wasn't in the forests. Kasa roamed the city streets not caring that she was an animal; she loved her animal. She wasn't a large cat, but still she had to be careful not to be too noticeable. It was dark enough and late enough now that she could skirt down narrow alleyways and tromp past the windows of late night bars and restaurants without making a fuss or scaring the humans. If they happened to catch a glimpse of her furry backside, they likely would past it off as something else. This was a haunted city after all. The night was full of otherworldly beings.

****

The river lapped at the edge of the concrete wall as she walked along the sidewalk. Lifting her head to the sky she could just make out the edge of the moon hiding behind the grey clouds making an eerie smear of light across the otherwise black, inky sky. There were no stars out tonight, too cloudy. A cold front was blowing in, heralding the smell of a new season. Fall was still a bit away, but already you could smell that the summer heat was dissipating, chocked out by the threat of a winters icy breath.

Boats bobbed in the waters along the docks, and up ahead, Kasa could make out the concrete pilings of the bridge. The Bridge of Lions was labeled a historical landmark and could never be torn down. She had read about it in the travel brochures she had gone through when choosing to move to this city. It had recently gone under extensive repair and it gleamed with a freshness that belied its age. She had yet to see Anastasia Island and the beach side of the old city.

Natalie, her roommate, loved going to the beach with her friends on the weekends, though Kasa thought it was more so she could show off her body in those tiny bikinis. That was something Kasa could appreciate in her human roommate, she was not shy about her physical appearance.

It wouldn't be too much longer and the sky would change yet again, the pink light of morning pushing the dark night away. Kasa could only hope for a short run along the sandy beaches before she had to return to her dorm room. She knew she couldn't be found wandering around in this form by the humans. They'd lock her away in a protective sanctuary. But if she was quick enough she could make it back before anyone in the college awoke.

Making up her mind Kasa made her way closer to the ancient bridge. Her paws barely made a sound as she picked up speed. The night air was colder than usual and she had great fun blowing puffs of hot air out of her open mouth. Her cat had needed the exercise.

It was only when she was running along the shadow walking path of the bridge that she noticed something out of place up ahead. There were no cars going over the bridge and most of the city's residents had gone home for the night. No one should be on the bridge.

A figure, tall, definitely human in shape, was leaning against the side of the bridge, its face turned to the water below. Kasa slowed down, careful to keep her breathing minimal so that it wouldn't notice her coming up on it. Her head low, she took a hesitant sniff of the air, pausing to see if it noticed the noise. It didn't appear to.

Her head crouched low to the ground Kasa slowly advanced. It was male, at least six feet in height with a slender but sturdy build. His clothing matched the shadows around him as if he intended to slip into them and never emerge.

Kasa wondered why she thought this. But there was a strange quality surrounding his figure that made her believe he wished simply to disappear into the night. It made her sad for him, a stranger, and a human. But she could empathize with his sadness. Sometimes she wanted to slip away too, let the dark shadows envelope her, comforting her in their quiet nothingness.

She was close now. It, he, had blonde hair, similar in color to her own; golden wheat that was slightly ruffled by the wind blowing over the bridge. She had yet to see his face, turned as it was to the inky waters below. Kasa wondered if he would jump. She had heard that some humans were prone to jumping from high perches, sometimes to feel the rush of falling, others to make themselves feel nothing.

The wind changed then, a sudden turn, quick, toward her. Kasa took the scent of him into her nose and mouth and almost coughed because of it. She had smelled that scent only once before. Her father had been murdered and He had come. His cologne had lingered in the air around her shaking body as she had huddled like a baby in the shadows, feet away from her father's dying body. She hadn't been brave enough to go to him and instead had let Death take him away from her.

The figure on the bridge smelled of death, but it wasn't Him. No, it was a thing he had touched. It was one of them, the dead ones. She heard of their existence, but had never met any. The dead did not usually socialize with the livings and she did not have any wish to make friends with any of them. Kasa knew that the city was haunted by things that most of the living feared, but she had never expected to see any.

She had never expected to see one of 'them'. Not only was he one of the dead, he was the very monster that had taken her father, murdered him, leaving him in the open and so very far from his home. They had traveled for hours on foot because her father believed there was a cure for him up here. He had been tired and angry. Kasa had had to keep a safe distance when his moods changed, and they changed so suddenly. She had only to be swiped at once before she realized that his mental functions weren't right. Her father had never tried to strike her, even at his angriest.

He had seen the monsters and thought only to protect her from them. Kasa hadn't a chance to get a good look at them. But she knew that there had been three of them, all male. Her father had hidden her in the dense foliage while he engaged the dead creatures. He hadn't come back for hours and she had grown more worried. But she'd remained hidden, too fearful to go after him. All the while she could smell them, not Death, but the things that he let exist in this world.

It was wrong that they should smell so good, a perfect concoction of flavor notes, when she knew that they were evil soulless beasts that preyed on innocent livings. They were aberrations of nature that should be put down. They were the worst qualities of human nature, destructive and without conscious.

Her anger fully engaged she crouched low, eyeing the flesh-eater, making ready to take it down. With a yelp torn from the depths of her animal's soul she flung herself at the creature.

****

Jackson had only seconds to react, but he had heard her approach him. Out of the corner of his eye had watched her run up the bridge, her gate steady. The truth was he had become aware of her before she had him. Despite his youth, he had years of practice in his grandmothers company to see the world not as it appeared to the mortal eye, but at something wondrously different and more than likely strange and bizarre. He'd never met a shape-shifting creature, but his grandmother had. He had grown-up hearing of the were-panthers to the south.

They lived isolated lives, trying desperately to cling to their ancestral traditions. Forced to assimilate into modern cultural norms or die, the panthers didn't have a chance at surviving the next century. Most of the males died young and without healthy off-spring there was no hope for their species to survive. Integrating with the humans was not an option in their prideful minds and so a dead end was all that was in their future.

Jackson leapt onto the ledge of the bridge seconds before the panther lunged at him, her mouth open and teeth barred. He looked down at her as she pivoted on her paws, her golden cat eyes gazing up at him.

Her body was quiet as she sat on her haunches feet away from him. Her great leap had propelled her far enough away that she would have to be fast if she tried to lunge for him again. If he wanted to, Jackson could easily fall into the water below to escape. He wouldn't though. He'd rather not go home with soggy clothes and mess up the floor and get an earful from Maude. No.

He felt anger flow through him, an anger that had nothing to do with the fact that the cat tried to take out his jugular with her sharp teeth. He was just angry at everything. If she wanted to engage him, so be it.

Ambrose had drilled into them several times tonight not to interact with the panther, to let her be. She wasn't their responsibility. But she had crossed the bridge. Technically this was neutral territory, neither belonging to the flesh-eaters or to the Eidolon.

"You want to play, kitty?" Jackson goaded, holding his hand and ushering her to come at him. "I'm fair game, puss."

The cat whined a sound that was almost human. Jackson could see her golden eyes were far too intelligent to be simply a cat's stare. Somewhere inside the furry beast was the mind of a woman; human.

She was a living, protected by the Eidolon even if she didn't acknowledge their support or presence. But she had crossed the bridge during his hours. If she were smart she would have stayed safe in her fluffy pink cat bed instead of wandering the streets so late.

Kasa whined again, her jaw tight as anger at missing the creature swept through her system. He had leapt so quickly out of her way at the last moment; it was almost as if he had been aware of her all along. She thought she had been most stealth. She hadn't counted on the fact that these things could move as fast as she; like an animal.

The stories always said that they were lethargic and slow witted, but relentless. Her father had been sick and weak. That was why they had been able to take him down; three against one sick old man. He'd died because he'd been weak, not because they had been strong; or so she had believed. But she was young and at her peak physical condition. Kasa could destroy him and in the process avenge her father's death by taking down the very monster that had ended his existence. Maybe that had been her reason for coming back to this place, so close to where her father's life had ended. Not because she wanted to study art at a leading liberal arts college, no, she had wanted to see for herself the 'things' that deserved a final death at her hands, paws.

Kasa lunged again at the flesh-eater, her paws, sharp claws extended, swiping at thin air. He had moved again, sidestepping along the railing. When she tried again, he moved just out of her reach. He danced along the railing, his face smiling as if he were having a good time at her expense.

"Little kitty has sharp claws, doesn't she?" he taunted. He reached his hand out as if to pet her head. Kasa swiped at it, but missed. "No, no, don't be a bad kitty. I only want to pet your furry head. Where is your master, pretty kitty?"

That angered her to no end. Just because she was an animal did not mean that she had a master to look after her. Humans thought they could put them in locked observatories under the guise of keeping them safe when the truth was that it was they who were the threat.

He was too high up. She could only reach so far on her hind legs. Her cats' body was not meant to hold in an upright position for long. If only he'd come down and face her at equal level. She'd take a good bite out of him then. Let him bleed out all over the bridge and leave him for the others to find.

Kasa reached, putting her paws on the railing as she tried to make another swipe at him. She couldn't get up there, her body would fall if she tried to get onto such a precarious perch, and her soft paws would easily slip on the smooth stone.

"Do you want to get up here, kitty?" Jackson asked in a sing song voice. He knew she could leap up on the railing easily enough, however, her four legged form wasn't meant to teeter precariously on the ledge. His center of gravity was better at it and he could side step her swipes without much thought. She'd give up soon enough and he could go home without breaking the family rules.

Kasa sat on her haunches, glaring up at the smiling man, letting out a heavy puff of air. She noticed, then, for the first time how young he was as well as the attractive cornflower color of his eyes. Those blue, blue eyes stared down at her from a face that was in her opinion quite beautiful for a monster. But then that was always the lure of these dead things. They looked so pretty and living that you forgot for a moment that they only knew how to kill.

Jackson's smile faltered as the cat continued only to stare at him with those far too intelligent golden eyes. She was very pretty for a cat. It made him wonder what she looked like in her more human-like form.

"What are you thinking about, kitty?" Jackson asked as she continued to watch him. When he moved, her eyes followed. Almost as if she was entranced by him.

Kasa hadn't been able to sneak up on him, but maybe she could surprise him. If he was distracted then she could easily make her move. She was strong as a cat, but she was no weakling in her other form. Though softer looking and seemingly less of a threat, her other form could just as easily take down this monster; if she were quick enough.

Chapter 6-

"You worry about him too much," Corrigan whispered in her ear, slipping his arms around her otherworldly form, holding her to him.

They both stood silently on the beach as they watched the oceans waves' crash against the shore, enjoying the close connection they had when their forms touched.

Clarissa was a ghost, but she was not intangible. In fact there was more life essence in her body than in some humans. Her extrasensory gifts as a bokor intensified themselves even in this death-like state. He'd never try to change who and what she was as she would never try to change him.

They had their bad days, sometimes needing to be apart from each other for several hours or run the risk of hurting the other. But by now they knew the other's breaking point and could disengage before all hell broke loose. Clarissa had her friends on the mainland and he had his brothers and sisters.

Jackson didn't really have anyone anymore. At least that was how Jackson felt. Corrigan felt sorry for the kid, but knew from experience that their constant hovering was having a negative effort on his adjusting to this different lifestyle. Clarissa needed to let go or she'd loose her friend and brother.

"Of course I'm worried about him." Clarissa leaned back against Corrigan's warm body. He didn't seem to mind that her body was so much cooler than a normal woman. He was so much warmer than a typical human man, his oversized organs pumping the necessary blood through his system keeping him alive; alive in a deathly sense. Her body didn't possess human blood and her energy was cool rather than hot, but it was just as lethal as any firestorm.

She brought his hand to her mouth, kissing the hot tanned flesh of his inner wrist. Nipping the tender flesh with her teeth she smiled when he flinched. Another interesting fact about ghosts was that they were elemental with the energy of the world which could be converted into electrical currents that could shock a body. Clarissa's kisses could be as sweet or intense as she chose, like kissing a flower petal one moment then the tail end of a lightning bolt. Her personality was similar in effect.

Corrigan leaned down, biting the flesh along her shoulder. Where his mouth touched her, her skin glowed ever brighter, spreading along her otherworldly skin like a blush.

"She doesn't know what to do," Clarissa managed to say aloud even though Corrigan was trying to distract her by moving his hands along her body causing her skin to glow like a full moon in the dark night sky.

"Who?" he asked between kisses along the back of her neck.

"Maddy," she answered back with only a slight breathless hitch in her voice. "She's worried that if she tries to contact Jackson the Eidolon will see it as a threat. She works for them, a paid employee and we are not on the best terms with her bosses."

Madeline Connors had worked for the Eidolon community of St. Augustine since she was a young woman and many of the residents had watched as she grew up. To some she was like family. If she tried to make friendly with the monsters on the island, even if her beloved grandson was one of them now, it could be construed as a fracture in her loyalty to the Eidolon people. She couldn't then be fully trusted to keep the secrets of her bosses. Not to mention Cyrus detested the flesh-eater family. Tolerating them was a big sacrifice in his mind.

"Would she give them up to be in his life?" Corrigan asked, stopping his seduction for a moment to wonder about that question himself. If what he knew about Jackson's grandmother was true then he knew that she loved her grandson above any other person in this world. But then she had loved Jackson when he was human and alive, not the flesh-eater version. Would she feel differently about him now that he was a being her ghostly friends hated the most in this world.

"I don't know. They've been with her longer than we have, longer than I've known her. Did you know that it was Henry who first started calling her Maddy?" Henry Portier was the community polestar and had been the first ghost that Clarissa had met in the city. He'd become a good and understanding friend despite her jumping ship to be with Corrigan. He was also madly in love with her other ghostly friend, Eleanor Masters, though he'd never tell her. "She's spent so much of her life with the Eidolon. How can we expect her to join with their enemy?"

Corrigan touched the smooth skin of her cheek. He'd never get tired of feeling the cool touch of her skin or be amazed at how solid and alive it felt beneath his fingertips. "Was it difficult for you to not be with the Eidolon people? Do you ever miss not living with them?" He sometimes wondered if she felt left out at times with his family because she wasn't the same as them. His family did their best to include her, but some activities were meant only for them. They tried to behave like a normal living family with Sunday diners at home. Was it enough though?

Maude always prepared a vegetarian dish. Cooked meats tasted terrible and upset their systems. Though Xavier, who was a crazy loon to begin with, liked to a have a rare steak now and again; rare in the sense that it didn't need to be hot, it just needed to be dead. But then for them, the more alive the prey was the better. The life essence coursing through the blood and tissue of living things kept them mobile and sane.

"No," Clarissa answered with a smile. Turning around in his arms she kissed his warm chin. Looking up into those iridescent blue eyes always reminded her why giving up being a councilmember for the Eidolon was worth it. Some had wanted her to take Francisco's place.

When they had first met those beautiful blue eyes had been empty, soulless, the eyes of a walking dead man's. Now they were full of life and happiness. Clarissa had made sure to keep it there. Corrigan had found the strength to accept himself and the love of his family and he accepted her just as she was and loved her all the more for her biological differences.

"I didn't give up anything," she reached up the distance to run her fingers along his slightly scruffy cheek, "I gained something far more precious." Clarissa didn't need to say the words, they were written in the depths of her eyes, a profound statement of endearing power that would never change or fade throughout the ages. It was an enduring love that existed and shone even in the darkest of nights.

"Do you even realize how much you mean to me, Clarissa?" he spoke softly, holding her delicate, pale face in his large hands. "I couldn't exist if you weren't with me." He truly meant that.

It was a scary thought for both of them. For one of them to have so much power over the other, it was not an easy knowledge to live with everyday. Clarissa felt the same way. She knew deep in her heart – his heart that she would fade into the shadows if they were forced to be without the other. The others in her new family likely felt the same for their heart-mates.

"I'm not going anywhere any time soon," she assured him, turning to kiss his open palm on her left cheek.

"Make sure it stays that way," he answered back with a slight growl in his voice. "As for Jackson and his grandmother, we can only give them time to adjust to the choices that have been made. If the woman loves her grandson as she professes then nothing, not even death, will keep her from finding a way to be with him."

"And if not," Clarissa whispered, her eyes turning to look out into the ocean. Everyday Jackson drifted farther away from them, swept away like the sand beneath the ocean currant. Was he strong enough to endure and survive this existence? She didn't know.

Corrigan forced her face to look back up at him. "We'll cross that bridge when it comes."

She nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself.

Corrigan touched the end of her nose. "I thought you wanted to go swimming," he said, trying to force her mind away from their newest brother.

She frowned, looking at his clothes. He wore khaki shorts that showed off his strong tanned legs. Her own skin would never tan like that even when she was alive. His collared shirt was green with vertical stripes of navy blue. Clarissa had been trying to improve his wardrobe and he only complained every other day that she was treating him like a dress-up doll. "You didn't bring a suit," she remarked casually.

He laughed at that. Clarissa was all together too modest sometimes, and adorably naïve at others. Corrigan had assumed that most of the ghosts were prudes, but he'd never allow Clarissa to get that way. "Who needs a suit?"

"We're not going," she paused, looking around for people on the empty beach before continuing, "Skinny dipping."

"Sure we are." He took his shirt off, bending down to take his shoes off and throw them over his shoulder. Then he reached down and grabbed her, hoisting her over his shoulders as he ran down the beach.

Clarissa screamed. But there was an edge of excitement to it that told him she enjoyed his caveman behavior. That wasn't always the case sometimes.

A figure stood in the bushes watching the couple as they splashed around in the water. He bent down feeling the sand between his fingers, cool and soft. The woman seemed to glow like moon in a cloudless night sky, her strange skin shimmery and beautiful. The man appeared normal for a human, nothing unusual except for his scent. It was the smell of death, an old death, but the fragrant notes of the cologne were still clear and fresh. These two would not be much of a challenge. He would find her in this city of dead things and there was none who could stop him.

He turned away from the scene in front of him, slipping back into the cover of night as if he had never been.

Chapter 7-

Kasa smiled to herself though she knew that it was not visible on her feline face. There was an edge of worry in the flesh-eaters eyes now. She knew he could easily side step her advances; he'd been successful so far. But most humans had never witnessed 'the change', the biological transformation from one earthly form to the other. From her own first experiences she knew that the sight was both frightening and enthralling to watch.

This was the perfect tool to make this creature falter, giving her the advantage in this situation.

Jackson watched the feline as she paced along the sidewalk, her tail swishing. If he didn't know better he would have believed there was a tiny smile hovering over her cat lips. There was definitely an unusual gleam in her golden brown eyes.

He didn't want to hurt her, not really. Even if she was a dangerous predator the logic in his head told him that somewhere in that cat's body was the mind and intelligence of a living woman. Jackson couldn't bring himself to kill a living woman no matter how viciously she tried to attack him. Her cat saw him as an enemy and there was nothing he could do except put distance between them, leave her be until she moved on.

"Are you trying to size me up," he asked the cat, who made a chuffing noise as if she found his comment tiresome. "You might as well give up. I'm not exactly human and difficult to catch. It'll be dawn soon and it wouldn't be smart to be caught by the locals wandering their streets." She made that chuffing sound again, tilting her head to the side to study him. "Seriously cat, go home so I can do the same."

Kasa put the picture in her cat's mind of herself in her other form, detailing the color of her hair that resembled the thick golden fur on this body, the shape of her tanned limbs, the slopes of her breasts and torso. She felt the change of energy, the delicate whiskers on her face twitching as 'the change' began in the cells and tissue of her animal. It was a painful process, but then most of the beautiful creations of this world must come from a point of pain.

Kasa closed her cat's eyes as she concentrated solely on herself.

Jackson could feel a sucking of energy around him. It felt almost like when Clarissa was near, her body absorbing the elemental compounds of the world around her. People liked to refer to it as magick, but then magick was the science that existed on the fringe of possible and improbable. All Jackson could do was watch as he witnessed the most awe inspiring thing of his young life.

Kasa stretched her body, her legs and arms extending becoming longer, the joints shaping and reforming. Her animal never left her even in this other human-like form, she was always there within her conscience mind; a part of her forever. She arched her back and felt the pull of muscles through her torso, up her chest to her neck and head. Sometimes the process made her feel a bit nauseated, but not tonight.

Jackson was immobile as he saw the woman emerge from the body of a cat. Her fur rippled along her body becoming smooth golden flesh. It was disturbing to watch. He physically felt the power emanating from her transformation. He was incapable of looking away.

Kasa opened her eyes for a second, her lashes fluttering for a moment before closing them again. She was dizzy. Breathing deeply she acclimated herself back into this form, feeling the cool night wind on her bare flesh.

Jackson was staring at Kasa standing completely at ease in her birthday suit, her eyes closed, breathing deeply. It wasn't that he'd never seen a naked woman before. He'd just never seen one emerge from a panther form. And for some reason he couldn't name yet, she took his breath away. No. She took every rational brain cell in his head and focused it on one basic elemental desire.

God, she was beautiful. It was with that thought in his head that she opened her eyes. The eyes were the reflection of the inner self. In her eyes he saw the shadow of the beast, lurking there within the depths of her golden irises.

Jackson was aware of their intent focus on him, the look of ancient predator on its prey. Hate radiated from her body and in those eyes, and in his confused state he felt his foot slip.

As Jackson fell backwards he witnessed a look of surprised confusion cross the young woman's face. His expression likely mirrored that of hers. One moment he'd been standing perfectly steady on the bridge railing, the next he was plummeting backwards into the river.

This was the first Jackson had ever fallen for a woman.

"No you don't," Kasa cried out as she witnessed the man falling into black nothingness, "You can't get away from me that easily."

Something odd came over her in that moment, watching him as he plummeted into the dark waters below. A deep, evil pain pierced somewhere in the vicinity of her chest and a thought that he was leaving her collided with her rational brain.

Something was wrong with her tonight.

With her hands on the railing, Kasa hoisted herself up. Her feet grasped the smooth stone for a moment and then they were free, the air rushing up to meet her as she fell in after him.

They hit the water hard, the dark depths folding in over their heads. Sinking down further away from the night sky above them, Kasa believed she saw a shadow within the watery space around her, its face both beautiful; chillingly cold as death.

Something attached itself to her leg in a vice like grip, pulling her away from the beautiful vision. The cool, dark waters around her made her lethargic and slow witted. She had no choice but to give in to the power of the hold on her leg.

Cold night air breathed on her damp face as she emerged on the surface of the river. Water lapped into her ears and up her nose. Kicking her feet she realized the grip on her leg remained, its twin attached to her arm.

Kasa found those cornflower blue eyes staring in venomous heat at her, the man's mouth set in an agitated frown. He pulled on her leg, bringing him closer to her. For several seconds she forgot who she was and what he was. The feeling of his extremely warm hands on her skin penetrated deep into her sensitive tissues, letting her lose herself for a moment.

She regained herself quickly, though.

Kasa slammed her free leg into his middle, hoping to slam her knee into something soft and vulnerable. She managed with a foot, at least. Small satisfaction touched her mouth when she heard a grunt from him, those blue eyes flashing like blue fire in his handsome face. But it didn't last long.

With reflexes as quick as her own he had her other leg, pulling it like its twin closer toward him. She found her head under water once again. Bending back, she flipped her body, going fully underwater and down into its depths.

Kasa felt him tug her back up, but she was strong. He let go.

She emerged again behind him, her arms locking around his neck. Kasa had never been this close to one of his kind. Her face near his neck, she smelled him, the scent of death. Yet under that perfume she smelled something different. It must have been his smell in life, an almost indescribable scent that reminded her of a crisp winter forest. Kasa had an overwhelming urge to lick his flesh, to take his scent onto her tongue and into her body.

Jackson felt her soft, bare arms around his neck. Her warm panting breaths against his flesh engaged every male hormone in his body. If he wasn't trying to save himself from her strangling grip he'd think this was a turn on. He grasped those cool arms, chilled from their dunk into the river, feeling the strength under them. Ducking under the water in one quickly executed motion, coming up behind her, he had her body pinned to his front, her arms down by her sides. She kicked her legs, trying to stay afloat, banging them into his shins and calves as she struggled to free herself.

"Do you want to drown, you stupid girl?" Jackson yelled. His own legs beat against the water as he managed to keep himself above the surface. He yanked her wet hair, forcing her head back to face him. "Stop struggling. I'm not going to hurt you."

Kasa laughed. "Hurt me?" she quoted back at him. "I'm going to hurt you, dead thing." She kicked again, pushing her body into him with her movements.

"Stop," he growled, dunking her head under the water. He pulled her back up only to have his face spit on with a mouth full of river water.

Jackson slapped her in the face. He'd never hit a woman, ever. It likely shocked him more than it did her. When he was human, violence was the furthest thing from his mind. It was just another stepping stone for him down the road to perdition. He really was becoming a monster.

He was just as shocked, however, when she used her freed arm to land him a solid one back in his face. Then he felt himself being pulled under the water, dragged down by her strength.

After struggling against her hold, he was able to extract himself from her clutches, swimming to the surface. But she was hot on his tail. They broke the surface together, gasping for air.

He had never wanted to hurt her, a female, but it seemed she truly wanted him dead. There was no reasoning with her, no way to get her to let up. Yet he couldn't bring himself to put her down. His only recourse was to remove himself from the situation.

"Go home, pussy cat," he called to her, seeing that she was still trying to catch her breath. "I'm done frolicking in the water."

Jackson started swimming to shore, taking long strokes through the water. His otherworldly strength allowed him to move rapidly through the pull of water. Yet as he was nearing the edge he could hear splashing not far behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

Just as he dragged himself onto land Jackson felt a heavy force slam into his body. She was relentless.

Kasa pulled him down on to the ground, taking his throat into her hands. Sprawled on top of him, naked as the day she emerged into this world, she looked down at this creature of death.

"I will give you a quick death, dead thing, rip out your half beating heart and let you quietly bleed into oblivion."

Jackson gazed up at the beautiful, hate filled young woman sitting on top of him. She seemed completely unaware that she was naked, or her anger for him and his kind overrode her modesty. He must have swallowed too much river water, because some part of his brain found her sexy as hell sitting on top of him in that dominant position, naked as the day she was born, her hair plastered to her body. In another situation this could have turned fun. But she meant business, and the business she was dealing in wasn't sex, it was death.

Yet he knew how to play this. In a deadpan voice he said. "Can we at least have sex before we get to all the heart extraction, bleed to death stuff? I think I'd be more accommodating in a post sex stupor."

"What?" Kasa expelled the question, her hand on his neck releasing. It was then that he made his move.

Rolling her over with a strength borne of his undead species, Kasa found herself pinned between his solid warm body and the solid earth below her naked human-like form.

His large hot hand wrapped itself around her slim neck, pressing lightly on her jugular. "Are you done playing cat and mouse?" Jackson quipped. "'Cause this mouse is getting tired and would like to go back to his hole in the ground and call it a day."

"You're not the mouse, you're the stinky cheese." Kasa wrapped her hands around his wrist, trying to free herself from his light yet unyielding grip on her neck. "A cheese that needs to be disposed of," she quipped back.

Jackson was momentarily distracted by the moving geography of breasts, rising and falling with her agitated breathing. It reminded him of another time. In a shadow vision he saw himself poised like this over another woman, except her face had been full of fear and concern, Clarissa's face. She'd stabbed him in the chest with her concealed dagger and he'd watched as his life's blood and essence had leaked out in red rivers down his chest.

"I am the cheese," he said in a chilling voice, "and I stand alone." Jackson touched an area along her cheek where her damp blonde hair clung. He pushed it aside, letting his fingers touch her slightly chilled skin. Moving his hand to her forehead he closed his eyes and concentrated.

Kasa watched, almost enthralled by the deathly calm in this man's expression. She watched as he closed those haunting cornflower blue eyes, his lips slightly parted as he exhaled. It was at the end of that action that she felt a strange weightlessness steal over her body. She blinked, trying to remain focused on his face.

Franticly she pushed harder at the column of his arm over her chest, his hand still wrapped in a sure grip around her neck. He wasn't putting any more pressure on it than before and yet she felt as if she were passing out. Her breathing escaladed as she began to panic. Her legs moving in sharp patterns in the dirt as she fought the urge to surrender to his power. Then she was swept under and was lost.

Jackson breathed in deeply as he opened his eyes to find the woman beneath him sound asleep. He watched her in silent repose, her golden hate filled eyes closed for now. He'd not wanted to hurt her, yet she'd refused to cooperate.

Messing with the brains functions was a tricky maneuver; one Jackson was reluctant to try on people. Forcing her brain to engage in sleep mode had been a last minute decision that he might not have attempted under different circumstances. But this spite-fire cat/woman had been asking for it.

Jackson massaged his stomach as he recalled her small foot slamming into it. If she could pack such energy under water, imagine what she could do on land. Rolling off of her, he removed his soaked shirt. On his knees beside her, he lifted her head, pulling the shirt over it. Lifting the dead weight of her arms he stuck them through the sleeves. Pulling the shirt all the way down, over her breasts and thighs, he found the shirt came to just above her knees.

She wasn't very tall, he noted, her body curved and filled out in just the right places, yet compact inside a small delicate looking frame. At first glance she wouldn't have looked menacing. And that, Jackson thought, was probably her best defense. The wild cat inside hid itself well inside the frail human looking body.

"You're going to have a killer headache when you wake up," he said to the passed-out woman. If he had used too much force he could have fried her brain cells. As it was, because of the sudden jolt of change inside her brain, sometimes the side effect was dizziness or a more likely scenario, a terrible headache.

Jackson got up off the ground, watching her despairingly as she lay there motionless. She looked young enough to be one of the college students. At the same time he couldn't imagine the shape-shifters allowing one of their own to mix with the human population. He had heard that they preferred autonomy over culture assimilation with the singular formed beings.

"I guess I can't leave you here, can I?" He waited for a response he knew would not come. "Yeah, nice meeting you too," he said as he bent down, lifting her and putting her over his shoulder like a sack of wheat, flour, or whatever the hell people put in sacks these days.

Chapter 8-

Dawns early rays penetrated through clouds as Jackson walked through the open courtyard of Flagler College. He thought to leave her on one of the benches outside. Some early riser would likely find the woman and take pity on her. Perhaps they'd think she'd had too much of a good time. Maybe they would know who she was and return her to her room.

He placed the unconscious woman on a bench near the large water feature, tucking her legs in so she looked like she had just curled up to take a nap after one too many drinks at the bar. Just as he was sure she was made comfortable enough a thought occurred to him.

She was wearing his shirt. For some imperceptible reason that pleased him, to know that when she woke it would be with his clothing covering her skin, the faint smell of his body mingling with her own.

Crouching down beside her, Jackson ran his fingers through her still damp tresses, soft as her fur might have felt if she'd been in her other form. Watching as she breathed in and out, her full pink stained lips parted in sleep. He wondered then, as he pushed her hair away from her face what it would feel like to stroke her animal pelt. She was a wild animal and he'd likely never know. It was then he noticed something else. He touched a dark smear on the column of her neck where his thumb had pressed too deep leaving the mark.

Footsteps hitting stone made him stand back up in a protective position, his body unconsciously blocking her from the approaching figure.

Leah Moon ran across the courtyard, unaware at first that anyone else was around. Then she saw him. Standing as silent and unmoving as stone statuary, his body poised over the small form on the bench beside him.

"Jackson?" she questioned, "What are you doing here?"

"Leah," he said her name on a heavy sigh.

"What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into this time?" She hurried over to him, one slipper shoe on and one under her arm. Hobbling a moment she managed to get the other shoe on her foot.

"Do you know her?" Jackson answered instead. He didn't have time to make small talk with Leah. It was nearly full dawn and he had to be on the other side of the bridge before then. Clarissa was more than likely aware that he'd not returned home. He was sure to get an earful from her if she ever found out about tonight's unexpected adventure.

Leah looked down at the blonde woman wearing only an oversized black t-shirt. "Where did you find her?" She looked Jackson up and down, her lavender tinted irises taking in his damp and shirtless body. "And where is your shirt? Is she wearing your shirt?" Of course she was.

Jackson made an aggravated sigh. "I don't have time to get into it with you, Leah. Just tell me, does she go to school here or not?"

"Yeah," Leah answered him. "I know her. She's roommates with Natalie Quinn. Kevin's roommate, Chris, is sort of dating Natalie."

Leah had been seeing Kevin on and off for a few months now. She'd just left Kevin's dorm room, hoping to escape the rush of other students and any curious George's and Georgina's who might blab to her family that she'd been out all night when she had to be at work early the next morning.

Working at the family business, the local book store Psychic Imprints, had been a temporary position which had turned permanent as of late. She was also an S.S. (Spectral Services) which gave her an extra monetary allowance. Jackson used to come to her store all the time to hang out when business was slow. They were a specialty store and couldn't compete with the conglomerate book depots in town.

She hadn't seen Jackson in months, not after his accident. And here he was, at her boyfriend's college, half naked and with an equally scantily clad woman.

"The question is, Jackson, how do you know her?"

"I found her."

Leah shook her head at that obvious lie. "Sure you did. Well, she lives in this building. I do know that the girl's dormitories are in the Ponce De Leon Hall. I think I remember where her room is." Leah pointed to the large main building in front of them. Sweeping her dark midnight hair streaked with lavender highlights to match her otherworldly eyes off her shoulder, Leah contemplated the best strategy to get the sleeping woman back in her room. "You think you can carry her up the stairs?"

Jackson nodded an affirmative.

"Okay," she said. "Then if you could carry her in, I think I can keep the livings from noticing us."

****

"I miss seeing you at your grandmother's place," Leah whispered as she followed him up the stairs. "You know she hasn't had any tenants since Clarissa left. I worry about her sometimes. It isn't good for her to be all alone in that big house."

Jackson didn't comment as he secured the unconscious woman more comfortably over his shoulder. She didn't weight enough to be much of a burden.

"You could go one night and visit her," Leah continued. "I'm sure she'd really like to see you. You could bring Clarissa along if it would make you more comfortable."

He did visit his grandmother. Leah just wasn't aware of it. Some nights he'd circle the block on his motorcycle he knew his grandmother hated him to drive. They were dangerous contraptions in her eyes. But he was dead, so how dangerous could it be for him now?

Sometimes he'd stand outside when he knew she was asleep in her room and he could hear her breathing, the sound of her life's blood coursing through her system. Just as he could sense Leah now with her strong psychic energy an enticing aphrodisiac to someone with so little life-giving essence of his own.

Yet she seemed completely at ease with him so near her. She'd trusted him once and he'd almost destroyed her. He'd been possessed by Fatio, but still she should be wary of him. He was a monstrous creature and she was a weak living woman, even with her witch powers.

They made it onto the landing and Leah reached around him to open the door to the floor. A female student came out of her dorm room, walking down the hall toward them. Jackson almost thought that she saw them, but her eyes seemed to pass over them. It was something he imagined Clarissa dealt with on a regular basis, the eyes of the living never taking stock of her existence in their world. Yet in this instance he was glad of it.

"What are you doing to make her not see us?" Jackson asked, as the woman walked on past them seemingly unaware of their presence.

"It's a trick of concealment. Her brain is aware of us, I can't change that. But I've manipulated the brain to be unable to formulate an image of us for more than a few seconds. She sees waves of light and shadow. She likely thinks she's hung over. Here," Leah stopped at a closed door. "This is her room."

Jackson read the name plaques on the door, written in feminine swirls on heavy pink and green card stock. One was Natalie, the name he remembered Leah saying was dating her boyfriend's roommate, with a star over the 'i'. The other name read, Kasa, the 's' sweeping down to form a tale. It suited her, he thought.

Leah touched the end of the door knob with one delicate finger. The sound of the lock popping open was loud in the otherwise quite hallway. She opened the door, letting Jackson go in first with Kasa.

The room was dark with blinds drawn down and a heavy curtain over them to block out any extra light that might penetrate through it. Jackson noticed the two figures curled up on one of the beds. They didn't stir as he crossed the room past them, finding the empty bed with its red and blue patterned comforter.

Jackson laid Kasa gently on her bed, her head turned to the side on her soft satin pillow. He took a second to watch her sleep, her small body encased in his shirt, before pulling the comforter over her body. She was in a deep sleep that would likely last for several more hours. Kasa would be confused and angry, he was sure, but he'd be long gone by then.

Jackson would never see her after this. That did a strange thing to his insides. Even though she had tried to destroy him, something about her enthralled him. It might have been her tenacity, or more likely that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Jackson," Leah whispered from the hall near the open door. "Come on, it's getting late, and more people are starting to come out of their rooms."

Jackson tucked the comforter higher up under Kasa's chin. Bending down next to her bed, he touched the warmth of her lips, felt the hot air brushing his finger tips. He touched the stubborn set of her small chin. "Good-bye, Kasa," he breathed close to her face. He did something then that he'd never intended to do.

Jackson drew closer to her face, kissing her full soft lips. It was like an instant combustion of energy, one that he felt throughout his entire system. Feeling the sensitive petals of her lips against his mouth he wondered if there was any greater earthly pleasure.

He pulled back, knowing that nothing would ever come from such thoughts. Jackson left her in her safe bed, his shirt on her body the only reminder that he'd ever been in her life. It'd be better if he erased her memory of him in her brain, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do that.

Hearing the sound of Leah's agitated Korean out in the hall Jackson left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Too bad he couldn't close Kasa from his mind so easily. He found Leah at the end of the hall. When she was upset she always reverted back to Korean, her mother and grandmother's heritage language. He imagined her father was likely just as confused as he was now when the three of these Korean witches got together, their energetic conversations going right over his head.

"Leah, I don't know what you're saying to me."

"Go home Jackson," she said, finally in English. Touching his arm lightly, something passed over her face, a reflection of emotion he couldn't name. She did something then that he hadn't expected. It seemed he was falling more and more off his usual predictable beat lately.

"Don't be such a stranger, Jackson," she scolded him, her thin black brows drawing down, "We all miss you so much," she confessed as she threw her petite arms around him. She barely reached his chest, yet she held him with strength unmoving.

He couldn't bring himself to hug her back. They'd been best friends, but that had been before.

"I'll see you around, Leah," he said in a low voice as he disengaged himself from her clutches.

He was through the connecting door and down the stairs before she could say anything more. Jackson wasn't aware of the silent tears that escaped from Leah's lavender tinted eyes or the little tremble to her tiny bowed mouth.

###

The End. (to be continued...)

Thank you, dear reader, for your interest in my works. As always I appreciate hearing your thoughts. This is the first Companion Guide, this one to explain the events in Grave Danger, with other editions to follow as the stories progress. If you are confused by anything, or need clarification on a particular 'factoid', please feel free to post a comment on the site where you downloaded this work.

K.E. Rodgers

Other Works:

Grave Danger

Shadow Musique

Rainbow Heart

When Man-Made

Life in Pause

Divine Kingdom

