

All the Lovely Creatures

An Anthology by Good Reads Group – Paranormal & Horror Lovers

Published by B. C. Sirrom at Smashwords

SMASHWORDS EDITION

SMASHWORDS EDITION LICENSE NOTES

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please visit the author's website for other works. Thank you for your support.

Cover Art by Emily Joyner

Stock by Smoko_Stock

http://creativehaven.org

Dedication

To the authors for contributing their talent; the cover artist for her imagination; and the group for sustaining the energy to see this project through.

Table of Contents

Forward by Jennifer Rainey

No Such Thing by S. J. Bell

Into the Burning by Charlotte Dhark

The Wager by Lisa Goldman

Obeah Love Affair by C. C. Hartley

A Girl and Her Mirror by Mark Mackey

The Bargain by Rebecca Nolan

The Little Death by B. C. Sirrom

Dance of the Valkyrie by L. M. Smith

**Forward**

By Jennifer Rainey

When Victor Frankenstein crafts his infamous creature in Mary Shelley's masterpiece, he creates something that is a patchwork not only of men but of ideals, of emotions. Out of many, he is one. Indeed, this anthology you read now is something similar, though I do say quite a bit more pleasant to encounter than the fruit of Victor's labors!

What precisely does the word creature conjure in the imagination? Something frightening? Something unknown? The authors of the stories you are about to read had this question to consider and not one of them came up with exactly the same answer as another of their collaborators.

The initial reaction to such a question might be to recoil, to think of something unsettling or scary. But then one must consider the creature itself. How does it react to its state of being? It's surroundings? Does it enjoy killing men or does it loathe violence? Is it predator or prey? Do humans simply fear it or try to combat the creature themselves?

It's the reaction that makes the creature, not the state itself of being an outsider to mankind. You will read in these pages about various supposed monsters, and they all behave differently. The creatures in these stories are everything from horrifying killers to sympathetic lovers to misunderstood beings trying to fit into human society, each one with its creator's personal stamp placed upon it. This anthology was born out of a desire to come together as authors, out of a sense of community, and the reader can certainly feel this as well. Despite the occasionally-gruesome or unsettling subject matter, this is a labor of love, we promise!

The idea to create a compilation was posed by author B.C. Sirrom on the Paranormal and Horror Lovers group on Goodreads in May of 2012. The idea took off immediately, with eight writers contributing to the work and several others offering to help with editing and cover art. But what was to be the topic of such an anthology?

After much deliberation, the topic of creatures was chosen, an emphasis placed on the unique and the cultural. The rules were simple: the story must be in the paranormal or horror genre and between five and ten thousand words. While mature content was allowed, it was not required, and contributors had to be willing to assist with editing. With the ground rules in place, the authors set out to craft their tales.

This specific topic is one that not only fit the overall theme of the group itself, but also one that allowed the authors room to breathe, room to create and thus, room to craft a collection of well-fitted stories that will entertain, thrill and horrify.

No matter what the word 'creature' initially brings to mind for you, the reader, that is only the beginning.

**No Such Thing**

By S.J. Bell

I disliked Jonathon Crawford immediately. He was the kind of New York hipster who was completely insufferable to anyone outside his social circle. If you wanted something from him, your best course of action was to relentlessly kiss his pretentious, materialistic ass. If not, your instinctive response to his presence would be a nearly-irresistible desire to punch him in the face. Between his Buddy Holly glasses, Harry Potter scarf, mismatched clothes, corduroy jacket, and a head of hair meticulously coiffed to convey the impression that he hadn't spent any time at all preparing it, the smugness and disdain was palpable.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't just the care that Crawford put into his appearance which bugged me. My boss Gerald was also very concerned about how he presented himself. He could spend half an hour in the morning preening over his thick black hair and goatee, and he wore suits all the time. Although he didn't look a day over thirty, he was a product of the early Victorian era, and looked the part. Looked it almost too well, in fact. One of the reasons the patriarch had apprenticed me to Gerald was the hope that I could help him to stand out less.

But Gerald, despite some rough edges, had respect for others. Mr. Crawford, by contrast, was the type of person who was totally and utterly convinced that he was just plain better than everyone else. Arrogance rolled off him as a thick and heavy miasma, like stench rolls off of garbage.

I was glad that I didn't have to talk to him. Being merely an assistant, I could hide behind my computer and play Minesweeper while listening in and controlling my baser urges.

"So, uh...," Crawford said, "paranormal investigations, right?"

Gerald nodded. It said as much on the door.

"That means you investigate hauntings?"

"Among other things," Gerald said. "Do you believe you are being haunted?"

"Well, not me specifically, but yeah, my building's haunted. I think. Melanie thought it might be something about dimension vortexes or something. I think she was high at the time, she's a great girl, but she thinks it's still the six-"

"Sir? The facts?"

Crawford blinked, not used to being interrupted. "Uh, right, right. Well, I own an apartment building over in Williamsburg. It was my grandfather's, see, and when I inherited it, is was a run-down place with only a few tenants. I had a little money, and a few friends who liked the area, so I kicked the old tenants out, renovated the place, and turned it into a co-op. It's a great place to live. Well, it was until the rich pricks started moving into the neighborhood..."

"The haunting, sir?" Gerald asked.

Crawford frowned. "I was getting to that. It started a while back, maybe... sixth months or so? At first it was simple things. Dreams, mostly."

"Dreams?"

"Yeah, really freaky ones. Melanie had them first, so of course we all think 'Okay, Melanie's been hitting the weed a little hard lately.' But then Karl and Abby started getting the same dreams. Woke them up in the middle of the night, sweating."

"Well, Mr. Crawford, bad dreams are not necessarily indicative of a haunting. Was Melanie vocal about these nightmares?"

Crawford nodded knowingly. "I know what you're thinking, man. Power of suggestion. Mass conversion hysteria. I thought the same thing. Thing is, it didn't stop. It got worse. Then just about five weeks ago, they stopped being dreams."

"What do you mean, stopped being dreams?"

"I mean we started seeing things when we were wide awake. Like, hallucinating. Freaky as all hell, man. We'd be, like, hanging out in our living rooms or something, just chilling, and all of a sudden we'd see shit that wasn't there."

"Hmm. What was the content of these dreams and visions?"

"Well, we'd be in our homes, doing whatever, or going about our business. Something normal, basically. When they were waking visions, it usually segues right in from whatever we were actually doing at the time. It starts with a feeling of... disquiet, I guess you could call it. Like something's off. Something that we couldn't place wasn't quite right." He snapped his fingers. "You know, like when you get the sudden sense that someone's behind you?"

Gerald nodded. "Go on."

"Well, we'd be feeling that, and then we'd look around and see we were alone. Then we'd see her."

"Who?"

"The ghost. She's a young girl, late teens, ratty hair, ratty clothes, like a homeless person. Crazy look in her eyes. You see her, and then she comes at you screaming gibberish, and once she touches you... you snap out of it, screaming in terror."

"Hmm. Has this happened to you personally?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Freaky shit, man."

Gerald slouched pensively in his chair. "I see. And the experiences of the others are the same?"

"Pretty much."

"Any chance it could be an environmental factor? Some kind of toxin?"

Crawford gave a cocky smile. "I know what you're talking about, man. No, that ain't it. We told Melanie to take her vices up to the garden. We got a garden up on the roof, you see, with sculptures and everything. Pride of the building. It's awesome."

"Well, maybe something in the walls? In the water?"

Crawford shook his head. "God, I hope not."

"You haven't checked?"

"I'd have to tear the place apart! I've already done that once before. If it is a haunting, then all I need to do is get it exorcised or whatever."

Gerald pursed his lips tightly, a gesture I was familiar with. He used it when he wanted to scowl at a client but didn't want to chase him away. "Well, this is an unusual case, Mr. Crawford. If you don't mind, I'd like to come by your building and see it for myself."

They scheduled an appointment for tomorrow before shaking hands and saying farewell. As the door closed behind Crawford, Gerald turned to me.

"Your assessment of the client, Mr. Thompson?"

"I want to bludgeon him to death with his own ego," I said. "Wouldn't take long, it's very heavy."

Gerald chuckled. "I can see where that impulse comes from, but be serious."

"Seriously? Narcissistic, arrogant, egotistical..."

"All of which mean generally the same thing. His pride is significant, Kyle, but not all there is to him. Look deeper."

I leaned back in my chair. "Well, he's materialistic, for one. Very concerned with appearances and possessions. If he had enough personal funds to renovate an apartment building, he probably comes from money. He takes a lot of interest in looking good. Maybe an inferiority complex or something. Desperate not to appear pathetic. A lot less smart than he thinks he is. He said 'mass conversion hysteria,' for example. Seems genuinely concerned about this haunting, though. Do you think it's a haunting?"

Gerald shook his head. "There is no such thing as ghosts."

I blinked. "That's... resolute, coming from a two-hundred year-old vampire."

"It is exactly because I am a two-hundred year-old vampire that I can speak with confidence on the matter. There is no such thing as ghosts. Banshees, werewolves, Greek sirens, nearly ninety percent of what you've heard about has some basis in fact, but no ghosts. I've been investigating incidents like these on the patriarch's behalf for the better portion of those two hundred years, and I have never seen anything to suggest that the spirits of the dead linger in the world of the living. Most of the hauntings I've looked at are the product of creaky old houses, superstitious minds, or guilty consciences."

"And you think that's what's going on here?"

"No, not in this case. It's possible, but if Mr. Crawford's description was accurate, it fits the profile of another sort of supernatural happening. Something that I know for sure exists."

"You have a theory?", I asked.

"It's a psychic. She -- or he -- is projecting these hallucinations through telepathic contact."

"For what purpose?"

"Possibly she's unstable. The human mind has a natural tendency to keep to itself, so most psychics instinctively repress their abilities. Many live their entire lives without even realizing they have powers. The progression of these incidents -- first dreams, than waking visions -- suggests a deterioration of control over her abilities. But there's another possibility, one which necessitates caution: this could be an act of deliberate malice on her part. You did a good job assessing Mr. Crawford, but you must also learn to extrapolate. Between his narcissism, his wealth, and his lack of intellectual mettle, he's likely to have a very poor grasp of the consequences of his actions. There's a good chance that this psychic was wronged by him in some way, and desires revenge. Or she could be doing it for profit. Scare away the tenants to ruin his business and force him to sell the place."

I narrowed my eyes skeptically. "The old Scooby-Doo plot? I don't know, Gerald. Wouldn't that have people flocking to the place?"

"Tourists, yes, but not tenants. Visiting a mysterious place and living there are two entirely different things. In any event, we shall wait until we investigate the building itself before drawing conclusions. Bring your tazer tomorrow; we may need it if we catch the culprit red-handed." He picked up the phone on his desk and started dialing.

"Who are you calling?," I asked

"A friend of mine who may be of assistance."

Gerald's friend was a woman. We met up with her the next day, just outside the Bedford Avenue subway station. She looked about forty, and her waist-length brown hair was beginning to gray, but nevertheless she was strikingly attractive. If Olivia and I weren't so happy together, I might have asked her out. She wore a simple green sundress with an earthy pattern and a hairclip made of a felted flower. The flower was, I thought, a bit much. But it worked. Gerald introduced her as Vivian Willoway. She was a psychic herself.

Gerald also introduced her companion, a rugged-looking man of around thirty with stubble, a square jaw, and muscular, working-class hands. He wore a leather jacket over a t-shirt and jeans and glared silently at us from behind dark glasses. Gerald introduced him as Gavin Brown, adding that he had not been expected to join us.

"Viv asked me along," Gavin explained in a thick Australian accent.

"Your talents should not be necessary in this matter," Gerald replied.

"Well, probably not, but I just happened to be in town today, I had nothing to do, and I figured, well why not? Another pair of eyes can't hurt."

From the way Vivian smiled as she leaned back against him, and the way Gavin's large hand held her so lightly by the waist, I guessed that there was another reason she asked him to join us. Gerald obviously figured the same, and he scowled.

"Oh, there's that look again," Gavin said tiredly. "Honestly, Gerald, do you always have to be such a grump?"

"This is business, not an event to which dates are brought."

Gavin clicked his tongue dismissively. "A more sour man I've never known." He looked past Gerald to me. "And this would be the new assistant you mentioned?"

"Uh, yes." I nodded, and somewhat nervously shook his hand. "Kyle Thompson, nice to meet you."

Gavin nodded.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir...," I continued, "what is it that you do?"

He smiled a large, intimidating smile. The smile of a jungle cat about to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. "Troubleshooting."

I blinked. "Troubleshooting."

He nodded in a slow and vaguely menacing manner.

"And, uh... what kind of trouble do you shoot, exactly?"

His serious expression broke as he laughed. Vivian snickered while covering her mouth and elbowing him. Even Gerald nearly cracked a smile. I flushed red with embarrassment.

"Forgive him, Kyle," Gerald said, "he likes to play these childish games with new acquaintances. Mr. Brown is a kind of freelance consultant. He travels around fixing anomalies for a variety of well-informed clients."

"Anomalies?"

Gavin launched into a short, cocktail-party elaboration of his job. "Every once in a while, you find stuff that's weird even by paranormal standards. Things that violate the laws of the universe. Not just the average, everyday laws, but the unabridged rulebook that also incorporates vampires, psychics, and the like. Knots in the fabric of reality, you might say. I've got a particular talent that lets me see these knots. And, when necessary, I can untie them."

"A talent which, while useful, shall not be necessary in this case," Gerald added. "As I told Ms. Willoway, I am convinced we are dealing with a psychic here."

"Well, friend," Gavin retorted, "you've been convinced of things before, only to learn you were wrong. Who knows what we might find?"

Gerald frowned.

"Come on, Gerald," Gavin said, "I offered to take Viv out today, and you know how hectic my schedule can get."

Gerald shook his head, but saw that it would take more time to get rid of Gavin than it was worth. "Fine," he conceded. "Our client's house is just down the block."

Gerald led the way down Bedford Avenue, and the rest of us followed at a few steps distance. Beside me, Gavin whispered to Vivian. "Must he always be so caustic?"

Vivian gently nudged him in the ribs. "Hush, Gavin. He's an old man, and he's world-weary."

"A curmudgeonly old fart is what he is. No patience for a young man who wants to spend time with his love."

Gerald wheeled around. "Do you have something that you'd like to say to my face, Mr. Brown?"

Not fazed at all to find Gerald suddenly in his face, Gavin shrugged. "Merely that you had done such a marvelous job insulating yourself from the petty distractions of life. Things like, you know, pleasure, happiness, a little May-September romance..."

"May-December," Vivian corrected him.

"You're not Decembrish yet, love."

She laughed delicately, which only seemed to make Gerald's answering glare more intense.

"Mr. Brown, if you must tag along, please at least try to take this seriously. This is...,"

"Business," Gavin said with a tired sigh. "Yes, yes, I know. Don't worry, Gerald, I'm wearing my professionalism on my sleeve."

"Then pull it from your sleeve and pin it to your lapel, because we're here."

He gestured to a small, five-floor building, walls painted fairly recently. A small stoop led up to a solid wood door.

"Vivian?", Gerald asked expectantly.

Vivian knit her brows in concentration. "There's a psychic presence here, certainly, but... it's strange."

"Strange how?", Gerald prodded.

"It feels distant, somehow. Normally, a rampant psychic will project some kind of an impression through the general area. If she smells apple pie, for example, everyone feels a bit of a craving for apples. I feel a presence here, but I'm getting no impression."

"Like she's asleep, perhaps?", I volunteered.

"No, I don't think so. When you're asleep, your body is still aware. That's why a loud noise or a rude shove can wake you up. This is... it's like she can't feel anything. Like she's... disembodied. Like a ghost."

Gerald shook his head. "There is no such thing."

"How do you know if you've never seen one?", Gavin quipped.

Vivian squeezed his hand. "Gavin, please, don't antagonize him."

Gerald ignored Gavin's interruption. "Very well, let us see if a look inside clears up the matter." He climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. After some talk back and forth through the intercom, the door swung open and Crawford appeared. He wore an outfit at once completely different and exactly the same as the one he had worn yesterday, except for having changed the corduroy jacket for a grey hoodie. A black line across the hoodie's midsection had been twisted into cursive letters forming a sentence: life is good. Crawford frowned slightly as Gerald introduced everyone.

Crawford leaned in close and whispered to Gerald. "This isn't, uh, going to cost me anything extra, is it?"

"Of course not," Gerald said aloud. "Miss Willoway consults with me on cases like this out of personal interest."

In truth, her fee was probably paid by the patriarch, the city's head vampire. He was the one who backed Gerald's paranormal investigation business, and we reported to him on all our cases. Detective work was just a way for us to keep him informed of supernatural goings-on around the city.

"Oh, well that's okay, then!", Crawford said cheerfully. "Come inside. You like the place? I do. Very bohemian, very intimate."

A look around the foyer revealed narrow corridors, clean but rather unremarkable. "Indeed," Gerald said. "If you don't mind, may I see where the apparitions have been occurring?"

"Everywhere, man. That ghost's all over the place."

"Well, is it more intense in any one place? Maybe here on the ground?"

"The opposite, actually. They started up top, up on the fifth-floor walkups."

Gerald raised his eyebrows. "Upstairs?"

"They've been working their way down."

Gerald and Vivian exchanged glances. Gerald's working theory had been a homeless person who happened to be a psychic camping out somewhere in the area, but it was unlikely that one would have taken up residence on the fifth floor.

"Are there any vacant apartments on that floor?", he asked

"Yeah. Karl and Abby moved out," Crawford responded.

"Were there any before the incidents started?"

"Nope."

Gerald grimaced. "Hmm. May I see the fifth floor apartments?"

"Sure thing, man. Anything to get this thing dealt with. Come on, elevator's right over here."

I raised an eyebrow. "Um, elevator?"

"Yeah," Crawford said. "What's the matter, you claustrophobic? Because I got a friend who knows this..."

"No, it's not that. Just... you said it was a walkup?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "So?"

"Uh... how can it be a walkup if you don't have to..."

"Thank you, Mr. Thompson," Gerald cut in with some irritation. "If you will lead the way, Mr. Crawford?"

During the elevator ride up, the four of us nodded politely while Crawford enthused about the building and its history. We'd heard the short version already: It had belonged to his grandfather, who was something of a real estate magnate in the city. When gramps died, Crawford inherited the building, renovated it, and turned it into one of the most exclusive buildings in the city (according to him). Membership was by invitation only. "We're more of a commune than an apartment building," he said. "Really tight-knit."

He led us to an apartment, presumably the one that belonged to Karl and Abby before they moved out. They had taken most of their things with them, and what remained was aggressively bohemian. Bare brick walls and exposed pipes were balanced out by large, luxurious windows on the south wall and track lighting. The extensive floor space was covered by a carpet, which a housekeeper was vacuuming. Crawford quickly shooed her out \-- with some difficulty, as she didn't speak English -- and made apologies to us. I noticed that Vivian kept her eyes locked on the cleaning woman as she walked out the door, and that Gerald, despite ostensibly listening to Crawford, watched Vivian carefully for her reaction. Eventually, she turned to Gerald and shook her head no. Crawford, meanwhile, babbled on about the apartments until Gerald, mercifully, raised his hand to cut the younger man off. "Ms. Willoway?", Gerald asked. "What does your sixth sense tell you?"

"There is something here. Close by, too, but... again, I can't get a clear impression." She started to pace around the room, slowly, head down and eyes closed. It occurred to me that she was playing some kind of telepathic version of Marco Polo; tracking when the impressions were strong versus when they were weak. "It's alternating strong and weak, which makes it hard to track by intensity. And what I can hear doesn't make sense."

"Whoa," Crawford said. "Is she, like, psychic? For real?"

Gerald waved him off and focused on Vivian. "Can you connect with her?"

Vivian knit her brows in concentration for a minute, then threw up her hands. "I'm sorry, Gerald, it's too weak and indistinct. But it is stronger up here than it was on the ground floor."

Gerald frowned. "Hmm. Mr. Crawford, would it be possible to speak to the other tenants?"

Crawford agreed and we spent the next two hours going around to all the different apartments in the building, being introduced to the tenants. It was almost physically painful: a virtual menagerie of upper-class idiots masquerading as working-class scroungers. One was a man with a scruffy beard and mismatched designer-label clothes who claimed to be a film buff, but derided everything we brought up to him as "corporate" and "Hollywood". Another was a woman dressed in rose glasses and a faux Native American headband out of the 1960's, presumably Melanie. She took a shine to Vivian immediately, and babbled about fashion and metaphysics for fifteen minutes in a very high and fast voice while Vivian patiently nodded and smiled. A third seemed to take pride in his ratty, thrift-store clothes and cheap décor, but also had a brand-new smart phone and very expensive looking entertainment center, not seeming to notice the paradox. Everyone wanted to talk about some new band that none of us had heard about. Never mind the haunting. This building was suffering from a much more disgusting infestation.

At each stop, the routine was the same. We would be introduced and Gerald would interview the tenants about the haunting. Meanwhile, Vivian scanned the room, and Gavin also wandered about, touching nothing but examining everything. In the end, Vivian would shake her head, Gavin would shrug, and we would move on to the next. We went through the fifth floor, and then the fourth, and so on and so on down the building, each step seeming to take us not only further into the belly of this hell-beast, but further away from any answers. Vivian confirmed that the impressions were stronger on the upper levels, but we kept going down because there was nowhere else to go.

Finally, we would up on the ground floor, in Crawford's apartment, tired and frustrated and bereft of anything pointing towards a solution, or even a workable theory. We stood around, nobody saying anything, the silence and lingering sense of our failure violently oppressive.

Eventually, I had to speak up, just to have some sound in the room. "Maybe it's a ghost after all?"

"There is no such thing," Gerald said impatiently.

"Your assistant has a point, Gerald," Gavin said. "We haven't uncovered any possible cause. Maybe it's time to think outside the box?"

"It's a psychic," Gerald insisted. "A rampant psychic is the only explanation that accounts for all the phenomena."

"But it doesn't," Vivian said. "The lack of a clear signature, the inability to form a connection, not to mention...,"

"There is no such thing as ghosts," Gerald repeated. "It's a psychic."

"Maybe it's a psychic ghost?", I offered.

Gerald threw me a scowl intense enough to melt through steel. I sighed, turning to Crawford. "Mind if I get a drink of water?"

"Be my guest."

I wandered over into the kitchen area, while in the main room Gerald argued with Vivian and Gavin. He repeated, over and over like a mantra, that there was no such thing as ghosts. But that argument was less and less convincing as an alternate explanation failed to present itself. I took a glass from the cabinets above the sink and glanced over my shoulder, thinking Crawford had followed me in. But he was out in the room, watching the argument. I tried to zone out the increasingly-loud voices as I filled the glass in the sink.

Halfway through my drink, I realized abruptly that the voices had stopped. I stuck my neck out of the kitchen, expecting to find the others standing around in helpless silence. Instead, I saw the room abandoned. I blinked. How had they cleared out so fast? I looked one way, and then another, and as my gaze swung back I found that the furnishings of the room had vanished. I stepped forward, nervously, into the now impossibly bare room. Something was very, very wrong here. I felt it suddenly, the vague sense that someone was behind me, watching me.

I turned around, and there she was.

She was a teenage girl, with olive skin, blue eyes, and long, disheveled brown hair, wrapped up in the ratty clothes of the lowest of the underclass. She stared off into space, lips moving silently, muttering to herself as if insane. I almost called out to her, but at the same time, I worried what would happen if she noticed me. So I stood there, watching with trepidation as she turned her head slowly, slowly, until she was looking right into my eyes.

Galvanized by that penetrating stare, I dropped the glass in my hand and pulled out my tazer. "Gerald!", I yelled, unsure if he could hear me, or even if he was there. The girl's lips moved and she spoke to me, but I understood nothing. To my ears, it was a stream of wild, nonsensical babbling. She stepped towards me, and I took a terrified step back. "Stay back!", I yelled. "Back!" She didn't listen, and took another step, and then another, and two almost at once, crossing the distance between us faster than should be possible. I squeezed the trigger, but the tazer darts passed right through her. Panicked, I turned to run and found her right in front of me, inescapable. She flew at me as if she had wings on her feet. With no escape, I threw up my arms to protect myself...

Inexplicably, she fell two feet short as I stumbled backwards into a pair of warm, comforting arms. "Don't be afraid!", a voice, soft but firm, whispered in my ear.

"Vivian?", I asked. "What is... what's going...?"

"Shhhhhh," she said soothingly. "Calm down, Kyle, calm down. That woman, whoever she is, is the cause of all this. She's trying to make a telepathic link."

The girl was still yelling at me. But when I listened carefully, I realized that it wasn't the nonsense that I first thought. It was language. I didn't know what language, and so I couldn't understand a word of it. But it was very clearly made up of words and phrases. She was trying to communicate, not scare me. Trying desperately, in fact.

"And what are you doing?", I asked Vivian.

"Keeping her away, for now. I need you to calm down. The mind has a natural defense against telepathic invasion. If it triggers, you'll be cut off completely from psychic contact."

"Sounds good to me, the last thing I need is to tangle with..."

"No. I need you to keep this channel open. I need you to make contact."

"Why the hell should I do that?"

"So that I can connect with her through you. It's our only chance to learn what's going on here."

I swallowed hard. Closing my eyes, I breathed slowly in and out, trying to calm down. My heart was pounding in my chest, but as I focused it slowed to a normal level. "Alright," I said. "But stay with me."

With Vivian keeping hold of me, I reached out to the young woman, who still stood mere feet away, yelling words that I didn't understand. She jumped at me, seizing my forearm in both hands. As she did, a flash of emotion filled my consciousness. It was a thousand thoughts and feelings at once, most of them painful, at an intensity that almost floored me. It lasted a fraction of a moment before Vivian pushed her away again. I barely kept it together.

"She's trying to make a complete merge," Vivian explained. "Pouring all her emotions and memories into your mind at once."

"Why?", I asked

"It may be the only use she knows for her abilities. Try again, I'll filter it as best I can."

Again, the girl ran at me. Somehow, Vivian ensured that she didn't reach us, but instead kept running in place. She remained within arm's length, though, so with trepidation I reached out and took hold of her hand.

Even with Vivian in control, it was overwhelming. A barrage of images flew through my head, the entirety of a woman's life as seen through her eyes. A man -- father? -- beating her with his fists. The same man, twisting her arm until it broke. Her injuries were tended to by an older woman, herself bruised and battered. Dim and almost forgotten, a song -- sung by the older woman without moving her lips. Mother was loving, but sick. She heard voices, took pills to keep them quiet. But when she did, she lived in a haze. Father was with the mob, dealing in drugs. To him, mother was a convenient fuck-toy. Her daughter -- their daughter -- was a nuisance. She was sixteen when she found mother swinging from a noose in the bedroom. Fearful of what would happen when father got home, she stuffed some things in a backpack and escaped.

The streets of a busy city, filthy and stinking. Freedom, but nowhere to go. A shelter for the night. Her backpack gone in the morning, stolen by a bunkmate -- a hard beginning to a hard life. New clothes from some charity outfit. A cardboard box behind a dumpster for a home. She smells of trash constantly. Hunger. Naïve, she had never expected the hunger. But what could she do? Go back to father? Never. So she scrounges for food in garbage cans, dives in fountains for change left by stupid tourists to whom everything is a wishing well. Sometimes she tries her hand at picking pockets or purse-snatching. Rarely successful, these criminal ventures often lead to running from the police, or a beating at the hands of wronged would-be victims.

One day, a windfall: a large bill found on the sidewalk. A good meal for once, from a food stand owner that wrinkles his nose at her unwashed body. She eats in privacy near her new home. A mistake; she should have eaten in public. As is, she barely gets two bites before the smell attracts a fellow transient. He beats her. Brutally and viciously, the beating of a desperate man. Her change and her leftovers are stolen. And also, as she lies helpless, her virginity. It's an afterthought on his part, but she can't fight back, so why not? Flesh has many needs, and a man with nothing satisfies them when he can. He leaves her broken, and vanishes into the streets.

It's the only time she's raped, but what happens when the hunger overwhelms her doesn't feel much different. A shelter provides a shower, soap to wash off the unappetizing stink of the streets. Shoplift some perfume. Lay it on thick to cover what smell remains. New clothes from the charity, feminine and in fairly good repair. She looks reasonable. The true professionals snicker at her, but she has some waifish charm. Men with low standards -- or strange fixations -- exchange smiles with her. They opens their wallets to her the same way she opens her folds to them.

Then the man. The man she'll never be able to forget. Different from the others. Not slovenly or fat, but well-dressed and fashionable. Dark sunglasses hide his eyes, but not his smile. A friendly smile, she can't help returning it, but a wicked smile. Predatory. The smile alone sends shivers up her spine. She isn't selling, not today. But he offers a large bill, and then another, and promises of more, and she may keep her legs closed. Too good to be true. Something is very, very wrong. But the hunger is gnawing at her again. She goes with him.

Now the memories become frantic, recalling panic and palpable terror. A large room, empty but for some strange devices, their purpose unknown to her. Despite his promise, he strips off her clothes. Not roughly. First upon her clothes, then upon her flesh, his touch is soft and delicate. But it repulses her. Her skin crawls. He takes control of her body, pushing and pulling limbs as if she were a mannequin, contorting her until she is on her knees, begging. Then he orders her to look at him. That smile, sharp white teeth and the promise of violence, and then the dark glasses come off and my God, the eyes. Wicked, evil, wrong eyes. The devil's eyes. The eyes bore into her soul, make her breath catch in her throat. The eyes stop her heart, cut her spine and leave her paralyzed, the eyes so bright and baleful, the eyes full of darkness, the eyes, the eyes, the God-forsaken eyes!

There was a scream, a scream of horror and fear. Maybe hers, maybe mine, maybe both. For a second I was falling, and then I landed on a hard floor. I was in a cold sweat, and my breaths were fast and desperate. Gerald's face loomed over me, concerned and fearful for my safety. "Kyle?", he said. I didn't respond immediately. I couldn't find my voice. "Kyle, are you all right?"

I wasn't sure. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second before opening them again, and then tried to take stock of my situation. I was in Crawford's room, lying on the floor, but propped up against something warm and breathing. Vivian. When I fell, she must have fallen with me. Gerald, I noticed for a second time, was in front of me. Crawford and Gavin stood behind him, Gavin stoic but obviously concerned and Crawford understandably freaked out. "Yeah," I said, in delayed response to Gerald's questioning. "Yeah, I think so." My tazer was still in hand, held by white-knuckled fingers. It had discharged into the wall. As I relaxed, it clattered to the ground, resting besides the shattered remains of a drinking glass. I was then uncomfortably aware that I was lying against Vivian's breasts right in front of her boyfriend, and quickly let Gerald help me to my feet. Vivian rose of her own accord, and in seconds Gavin was by her side. He moved to embrace her, but she did so for only a moment before pushing him away. "I'm fine," she said. "I've had worse." The wavering in her voice brought doubt to the truth in that. I took a few steps toward the couch and sank down onto it, my heart still racing. Safe, I reminded myself. Safe. Safe.

"What happened?", Gerald asked

Vivian and I both started talking at once, then we both stopped talking at once, then I yielded the floor to her with a casual gesture. As she recounted what we'd seen, I calmed myself and cast my eyes about the room. The spotless bare brick walls seemed even more offensive than before.

"I don't think she's from around here," Vivian opined when done relating our experience. "She spoke to us, but not in English."

"I wasn't aware telepathy had a language", I commented.

"It does and it doesn't. On a basic level, a ball is always a ball, but the language you learn in infancy determines what the ball means. That might be part of her problem: she's trying to communicate, but nobody can understand her. Telepaths react very poorly to being alone, that may be what's causing her to go rampant."

"The cleaning lady?", I suggested.

Vivian shook her head. "She thinks in Spanish. This girl sounds completely different."

"These memories you saw", Gerald asked, "Did any details jump out at you? Anything that might point to her identity?"

Vivian closed her eyes and focused. "I saw images of city streets and buildings, but not like New York. Very old, crumbling buildings. Some streets paved, others cobblestone. Eastern Europe, maybe Greece, but I can't be sure."

Gerald frowned, the mystery becoming at once more impenetrable and more desperate. "What about this man? You said he had... evil eyes?"

"I'm sorry, Gerald, I wish I understood it better than that, but I don't. Something about those eyes was terrifying to her, as if...," she trailed off.

"As if what?", Gerald insisted.

Vivian bit her lip nervously. "As if she knew they would be the last thing she ever saw."

We expected Gerald to repeat his mantra for us once again. But he didn't. Maybe he didn't want to seem like he was trivializing the situation, or maybe it was that he wasn't sure anymore. We had run bone-dry on ideas, and he paced back and forth, at a complete loss.

"This doesn't make sense," I said, thinking aloud. "I mean, I'm not really up on the subject, but don't ghosts typically haunt places close to where they lived or died? We're halfway around the world from both. And if she's not a ghost, then how did she get here? A homeless woman can't afford a plane ticket."

"Sex trafficking," Gavin said, more matter-of-factly than I liked. "The guy with the eyes took her. They might have her stashed in a basement somewhere around here..."

"If that were the case, I would be able to get a read on what she's seeing and hearing", Vivian said. "But she's feeling nothing, it's like she's comatose."

"The basement is just as ridiculous," Gerald added, "the impressions are stronger on the upper floors, she has to...,"

Gerald stopped short, both his words and his pacing. A look of sudden realization crossed his face, followed by a withdrawal into deep thought. "Vivian," he said finally. "These eyes, what did they look like?"

Vivian strained to recall. "Hazel. Very bright. Other than that, I don't know. She remembers what she felt more than..."

"And when he looked at her, what did she feel?"

"Incredible fear. Like she couldn't move for fright."

Gerald whirled on Crawford. "You said you had a garden on the roof of this building?"

Crawford nodded swiftly.

"Take us there."

The roof garden was really more like a large deck with planters. Thick, leafy bushes competed for space with bench seating along the edges, whereas the center held a patio table complete with umbrella and chairs. In some flowerpots in the corner, someone had made a half-hearted attempt to grow organic tomatoes. The corners of the roof were dominated by abstract sculptures, like you might find in the garden of a country mansion. I didn't have a lot of time to take it in, because mere seconds after entering, Vivian's voice cried out in a wavering tone. "Gavin!", she called. "Look!"

We followed Vivian's pointing finger to a sculpture in the corner. Unlike the others, which were geometric shapes meant to create an impression, this one was starkly realistic: a white marble statue of a young woman on her knees, naked and emaciated. She reached up as if pleading to some unseen individual, her face a mask of shock. Gavin's jaw dropped in disbelief. He removed his sunglasses, almost unable to believe his eyes. I couldn't believe mine either. "Oh, yeah, that's a nice one, isn't it?", said Crawford, apparently missing completely the horror in Vivian's voice and the paleness on Gavin's face. "It's expensive, too. Imported from Europe. But it's not really a good fit, we thought...,"

"And this has been around at least since the time the haunting started?", Gerald asked.

"Uh... yeah, come to think of it," Crawford said. Whoa, you mean you think the statue's haunted? I had no...,"

I practically yelled at this incompetent imbecile. "It looks exactly like the girl in the visions! How could you not notice it?!"

Crawford raised his hands defensively. "We never paid much attention to it, okay? I thought it would look good up here, but it creeps everyone out, so...,"

Gavin muttered a curse before shoving us aside and taking command of the situation. "Stand back, everyone."

I didn't quite follow what was happening. Gavin knelt in front of the statue, placing his hands on its shoulders. For a minute there was something imperceptible in the air, a strange indescribable tension, and then it was gone and the statue was alive. It happened literally in the blink of an eye. Like a cheaply-made TV show, the statue was stone one frame and a flesh-and-blood woman the next. Her muscles gave out and she tumbled to the ground, gasping for air. Then, with a great wail, she rolled into a fetal position and started weeping and babbling in her native tongue. Gavin stepped back as Vivian rushed forward, taking the girl into her arms and stroking her, shushing softly. Crawford stood aside, shocked into silence.

I remembered those eyes, those vile and godless eyes from this woman's memory, and my mind put together the puzzle Gerald had solved mere minutes before.

"There is no such thing as ghosts...," Gerald said from behind me.

I whirled around and finished his sentence. "But there is such a thing as a gorgon."

Technically, there wasn't such a thing as a gorgon, either, but that legend was rooted in truth. On occasion, as a result of one of the "knots" Gavin dealt with, a human being can develop unusual abilities. One such ability, a very rare one, was called the Basilisk's Eye. It allowed the user to change the physical nature of something by directing his gaze at it, often into a hard substance resembling marble. Gerald explained as much to me later, leaving out the details of how and why, which he said were unimportant. (Olivia confided still later that Gerald himself probably didn't understand them.)

One of those accidents of fate had apparently empowered the artist from whom Crawford had bought his statue. Crawford gave us the artist's name, and a quick look at his website confirmed him to be the same person Vivian and I had seen in the girl's memories. His website also listed quite a few original sculptures for sale, virtually all of them human subjects. The extent of the catalog made my skin crawl.

It was a brilliant scheme, if you were an amoral monster of a man. Why spend years in art school learning to sculpt a human being when you can use human beings as material instead? If he were careful enough, he might even have gotten away with it, too. The police might notice similarities between statues and victims, but what police detective would ever suspect magical petrifaction?

But this artist had been undone by something he never could have foreseen: he made one of his pieces out of a girl with latent telepathic abilities. Trapped in stasis, a consciousness in an unseeing, unhearing body, she reached out with an ability that she didn't even know she had. But by the time she was strong enough to actually make contact with someone, she was halfway across the world, in a country where few thought in her language, and nearly insane from the isolation. So she became desperate, and shouted with the entirety of her consciousness at anyone she could find. This turned her communications into an overwhelming white noise which ensured people wouldn't be able to understand her. She was terribly lucky that Gerald was called in, and thought to bring Vivian with him.

The case was solved, but the clean-up had just started. For nearly an hour we were up on that roof where Gerald and Gavin, on a conference call with the patriarch, tried to work out where we went from here. Crawford was shooed away to his apartment, ordered to speak to nobody about any of this until we had a chance to talk to him about it in detail. Before leaving, he gave the girl his hoodie to cover herself. Probably this was also some small effort at redemption. Vivian huddled together with the girl on one of the benches. Neither spoke the other's language, but Vivian's firm but soft embrace and tender stroking of the girls' hair spoke in a universal tongue. I sat aside, waiting for someone to order me to do something. I wished I could be more active, but this was way out of my depth.

Finally, Gerald and Gavin put their phones away. Gavin walked over to Vivian and brushed her cheek gently. "Sorry, love, but it looks like I'm going to have to cancel our dinner. The patriarch wants me on the next flight out." He shook his head sadly. "This is a right mess, I'll tell you. I'll probably be traipsing about for months tracking down this loony's victims."

She just took his hand and squeezed it, a silent gesture of understanding. "Call me when you can."

Gavin grinned wryly. "You'll be in my thoughts. Always."

Vivian smiled warmly. Gavin gave her a quick peck on the lips, than came over to shake hands with Gerald and I. "I owe you an apology, Mr. Brown," Gerald said. "It turns out your assistance was very much necessary today."

"Think nothing of it, Gerald," he replied. "I sure as hell didn't see this one coming. Kyle? Stick with this guy. He's a big grump, but he's damn clever. You'll learn a lot from him." Then Gavin turned and left through the door leading downstairs.

"So what happens to her?", asked Vivian.

"We'll figure out where she's from, then the patriarch will arrange for her to return home," Gerald said.

Vivian frowned. "Home to what? An abusive father, or the life of a homeless runaway?"

"They have social services in Europe, Ms. Willoway. These matters will be...,"

"Yes, and for all we know they're underfunded and corrupt, and in any case there's no way for them to deal with a burgeoning psychic..."

"Have you a better idea?"

"I'll take care of her."

Gerald rubbed his forehead, feeling an impending headache. "I share your sympathies, Vivian, but she is not some stray cat that...,"

"Kai can work it out somehow."

"Kai is going to have to alter the memories of everyone in this building, and then the patriarch is going to want him off to Europe to assist Gavin. There's no possible..." Gerald never finished that sentence. The steely look in Vivian's eyes told him she wouldn't be budging. Finally, he sighed. "The patriarch wants her returned. Provide her some clothes and a meal and a bed for the night, and if you have a problem take it up with the patriarch in the morning. Kyle?"

I rose to my feet as Gerald turned to me.

"Take the rest of the day off. There's no reason for you to stay here. After Kai and I get done, the patriarch is going to want a detailed report and... well, like Gavin said, it's a mess, and you'll just be underfoot. Go home. Spend some time with Olivia."

Disinclined to argue, I nodded. "I have to say," I told him, "I never saw this one coming, either. I would have guessed ghosts well before gorgons."

"I do not say that there is no such thing as ghosts simply because I have no evidence of them, Kyle. I say it because the idea doesn't make sense. Suffering and pain are the province of the living, not the dead. They are commodities that we create from ignorance and consume in powerlessness." He cast a long, sad glance at the young girl who had so recently been Crawford's ornament. I followed Gerald's eyes and noted again the cursive writing on the front of Crawford's hoodie: life is good. Seeing it on her was an irony Crawford and his people would not appreciate, I thought. Or maybe it wasn't irony at all. Curled up against an older woman stroking her hair, it seemed to my eyes that she was just beginning to realize she was anything but utterly alone in the world.

Gerald spoke again. "Go home to Olivia, Kyle. When you reach my age, you will realize that life is too short to waste, and too long to be endured."

About S. J. Bell

S.J. Bell is a life-long reader and lover of all things fantastic and incredible, from vampire detectives to tortured werewolves to romantic orcs. His debut novel, Bonds of Fenris, is currently on sale at Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/156777. He also maintains a blog at http://wolfmanbell.blogspot.com

**Into the Burning**

By Charlotte Dhark

Ava Drake has had a lot of chaos in her life. Losing her adoptive parents, banishment from her shapeshifter clan because she refused to give up her mixed race child, and most recently, finding out that her two year old daughter is manifesting gifts that haven't been seen in over 100 years.

*~*

It started as a glance. She'd been staring at the bottom of her glass, contemplating heading home when she looked up and saw him. Her eyes were instantly glued to the figure sauntering toward her table.

An aura of danger surrounded him as he crossed the room. His scent dominated the air and she inhaled without thinking. He smelled of power and desire, menace and a trace of sulfur. The sulfur was intriguing. Some of the most powerful Elders in the Clan had a tinge of sulfur to their scent. It was also an interesting contrast to the fresh college boy winsomeness of his face. The whole package spoke to her quite aggressively. If she didn't know better, she would have suspected a set up by the Elders. There was a distinct lack of interest on both sides between herself and the available males of the Clan and the Elders had been making noises about searching out a match for her within another sect. He was certainly eye catching, but definitely not one of her kind. And that was fine with her. None of her kind seemed to want anything to do with her. Their loss.

Muscles flexed under his shirt with a casual strength and heat flushed through her body. Ava wasn't entirely sure she liked that he could affect her so strongly after just barely more than a glimpse. Previously, only her Tutor had ever incited such a potent attraction. But not so quickly and of course, at the time she had been thirteen and suffering her first crush on someone she respected. Ava gave herself a mental shake. A small niggle of doubt that her compulsion to be out in public during her cycle might have been a mistake didn't negate the fact that bad thoughts led to embarrassment and there was no way she was going to blush like a teenager in front of this man.

When he stopped at her table, she got the distinct impression he could see through her natural camouflage. At first sight, he appeared to be human, but she'd never heard of any normal human who could see through her shifter camouflage. A dimple peeked at the corner of his mouth as he smiled and the part of her that controlled reason and logic swooned. She managed to keep her face impassive, but she knew when his smile widened into a grin, she had failed to mask the heat in her eyes. He sat down without invitation and leaned in with a smirk. Her gaze was drawn to the strength of his bare forearms. There might have been a little drool, but Ava was pretty sure it hadn't been obvious. A waitress set a longneck on the table by his elbow and she wondered how much of a regular here one would have to be to get that kind of service. She raised her eyebrows in a silent question. "I tip well when I'm in the area. Has its perks." Ava finished her drink and forced her eyes away from him, catching the waitress' attention for another. Wise or not, she had a feeling she'd need a bit of liquid courage to hold her own with this man and there was no way she had the willpower to walk away right now. A new glass was set in front of her in short time, her table companion seemingly content to sit in silence.

It was an obvious question, but Ava had still been oddly surprised by it when he broke the silence between them and asked, "What's your name, pretty lady?" His voice was an intangible caress and she barely checked the shudder of arousal as it shot through her.

"Ava." The pheromones triggered by her immediate lust filled the air. Looked like her body just made the decision for her. 'Dammit.'

His eyes slid shut for a moment and then he quickly finished his beer and leaned closer. His voice took on a rough quality. "I'm Ben." He signaled for another round without releasing her gaze.

They were in her room within minutes. It was the first time she had felt physically overwhelmed by a man and the hint of danger only added to her excitement.

"Let me see you, all of you... please." Even though the command in his voice was obvious there was also a hint of pleading and she smirked at the thought of his startled response.

She released her hold on her human form and stood before him in all of her glory. His eyes flashed red before returning to their original green. "Tell me your real name." His voice had gone low and rough as his eyes devoured her and she felt as if she had been allowed to open a Christmas gift early.

"Tywyll." His hungry mouth swallowed anything else she might have thought to say.

Ava woke alone, the other side of the bed cold enough that he'd probably left as soon as she fell asleep. Disappointment was sharp and she almost forgot that she had missed check in with her Sentinel. A quick phone call set things right and Ava went home with a heavy weight on her heart. The night had surpassed anything she had ever imagined and while she hadn't expected an instant declaration of undying love or eternal commitment, a cup of coffee before parting ways wasn't too much to ask. Sentinel Dwys had understood why she had succumbed to a stranger's embrace. The needs of a fertile female in their clan would not be denied. While she didn't know what sort of creature Ben was, even the fact that he hadn't been a dragon was accepted. However, a little less than nine months later, Sentinel Dwys delivered judgment dictated by the Clan Elders. She was no longer Tywyll Gobeithiol of the Ddraig Goch. Now only Ava Drake, cut off from her people because she chose to keep her half-blood child.

~*~

Two years later...

Maddie was eating lunch when their cozy little life took a left turn into 'What-the-Hell'-ville. Actually, wearing her lunch was a more accurate description. Ava turned to the sink to grab a cloth; it wouldn't do to leave applesauce to set, too sticky to mess with later. That thought made her laugh softly. If she didn't know better, one would think her mother was there, bustling about the kitchen, fussing good naturedly about the mess. Maddie shrieked just as Ava reached the cloth. It was a frustrated sound, one that had been increasing in frequency as her child grew older. Ava had never been around children younger than her, so every day was a new experience. The dirty diapers were a gross but necessary evil. For the most part it was a wonderful experience.

Turning toward her daughter, she was unsurprised to see that MiMi had fallen to the floor again. The hand crocheted monkey was her toddler's constant companion and the last gift Ava's mother made for anyone before she died. Maddie's hand stretched out and she grunted in the 'I Want' tone that Ava suspected was standard speech for toddlers. She stopped and bent to retrieve the doll but halted her movement when the doll began to float up toward her daughter. Speechless, she watched as Maddie gleefully snatched the monkey out of the air as soon as it floated close enough. Her daughter had just moved something with her mind. From three feet away without wobbling; which meant she had been practicing. Which also meant that her precocious daughter could manifest her heritage much earlier than puberty. Ava took in a breath and held it, hoping to stave off an impending sense of panic. Since Maddie was of mixed parentage, there was no way to predict what type of gifts she would manifest. Only knowing the father's first name and that he was a very dangerous man further complicated things.

Letting her breath out in a gusty sigh, she summoned a grin for her daughter and clapped. "Yay, Maddie! What a big girl you are!" her daughter clapped and squealed, a vigorously wobbling elbow sending her bowl to the floor. Maddie looked over the edge of her tray and said, "Oopa day!"

Ava kissed Maddie's head and looked in the general direction of the sticky mess on the floor. Keeping her tone upbeat she exclaimed, "Uh oh!" and looked at her daughter with comically wide eyes. "Mommy has to clean that up now!" Maddie clapped her hands and laughed before focusing on her monkey again. Ava wondered who she could ask for advice. Her dad would have been the best person to ask for help, he was always the most level headed of their family. His death two years before Ava met Maddie's father ruled out that option. She had a few acquaintances but no one she truly considered a friend. Certainly no one who knew anything outside the human world. As far as informed parties, the only other person who came to mind was her former Sentinel, Dwys. She went through the motions of cleaning Maddie's hands and face on auto-pilot as thoughts of him brought up just about every painful memory she had.

When she was taken in by her birth parents' Clan, she had been assigned a Tutor; as all offspring coming into their maturity were. What the Clan Elders hadn't considered was the reality of a maturing shifter who hadn't been raised within the community of the Red Dragon Clan. Her birth parents had fled the Clan so they could marry but had both died when she was a baby. So, Ava Drake, or Tywyll Gobeithiol as the Elders named her; had been adopted and raised in the outside world by fully human parents. Tywyll Gobeithiol meant Dark Hope. She smirked at that name and shook her head. The Clan Oracle must have inhaled way too much incense before she chose Ava's name.

The Elders' ignorance of what it would be like schooling a teenaged dragon shifter raised by humans was further complicated by their choice of Tutor. Ava giggled as she bent to wipe up the messy floor; finally able to laugh past the embarrassment of her first drama ridden crush. Her original Tutor had been one of the more sociable males of the Clan. His appeal combined with the news her adoptive parents had been killed and her emerging teenaged hormones proved to be a nearly fatal mix. It certainly resulted in a literal meltdown of a local barn when the male in question had bluntly turned down her awkward advances.

The best thing the Elders could have done was assign her a Sentinel. Dwys Cywir had planned on retiring but after much debate and negotiation he agreed to both mentor and watch over their newest Clan member. Dwys was the most revered and respected Sentinel in the clan. Ava knew she had put the aging shifter through hell but he had always been patient and if not kind, close enough that she grew to respect him. Near the end, she loved him almost as much as her dad.

Ava finished cleaning up and smiled softly at her daughter. In a rare moment of patience the rambunctious toddler had nodded off in her high chair. It was a quick trip to place her in bed and then Ava was alone with her thoughts and worry, which dredged up old memories as she tried to decide how to handle this new development. When the Elders banished her, Dwys' first betrayal had been refusing to defend her. But he was the only one that might be able to offer practical advice.

Recalling the day she'd learned her mentor was as fallible as the rest of them pulled her into the memory of her last meeting with him.

~*~

Two Years Earlier

Ava waddled about the room, gathering essentials into the one bag she could manage on her own. Deciding what to keep wasn't the hard thing, she thought. It was deciding where to go. Her birth families had been sparse to begin with and the ones left were so old and decrepit that none of them had much to do with her during her stay with the clan. None of them would consider defying the Elders by offering her shelter. Ava swallowed the rising panic down and continued to gather what she knew couldn't be left behind. At least she still had the social security card and birth certificate she had been issued when she lived with her adoptive parents. A tap at the door brought her back from another wave of terror.

"Come in!"

She looked up from her task to find her Sentinel, Dwys, entering with a worried but determined expression. "I really don't have time to talk right now, Sentinel Dwys. I was told to be gone by first light and that gives me very little time to pack and then rest."

His wrinkled hand landed gently on her shoulder. "Tywyll..."

Ava spun away from his grasp, her breath expelling in a sob. "You can't call me that! If the Elders hear you..."

Dwys grasped her arms and firmly guided her to sit on the side of her bed. She looked up at him and felt her lip quiver. "What am I going to do, Dwys?" The first tear fell and she swiped at it angrily. Ava hated to cry and lately she cried for no reason. She clenched her hands together and inhaled deeply. Releasing the breath slowly, she was able to regain control and looked up at her mentor. "Could you come with me, Dwys? Just until I have the baby? I don't expect you to stay forever, but how can they just expect me to either give up my child or go out into the world they separated me from with nothing but what I can carry?"

"Ava, you know I cannot go with you. The human world is no place for this old dragon. But this is not why I came to you, against the wishes of my Elders. I must tell you something. It will be painful. But I know you are strong and that you will persevere."

"What else could you say that would be as painful as being banished from the only home I have?"

"According to the report I found, dated three years ago, Margaret and Walter Drake were still alive and living in Nebraska."

The lead in her stomach dropped painfully to her toes, her heart beginning to pound so hard that she felt faint. Her sight grayed for a moment before she realized she wasn't breathing and she gulped in a huge breath just as Dwys pounded her back with the palm of his gnarled hand. Her vision cleared only to go red as the meaning of his words sunk in. She lurched up from the bed, certain that if she didn't put some distance between them there would be an unfortunate replay of her infamous meltdown. Ava whirled to face him, oblivious to the shame on his face. She felt the burn in the back of her throat and swallowed hard. There was no doubt Dwys could protect himself from her fire, but no matter what he might have been a party to, she refused to give in to her anger and hurt. Calling on all of the training she'd learned from Dwys, Ava calmed herself and asked in a tight voice, "Have you always known?"

Dwys face tightened, the scales that made the crest on his head bristling, reminding Ava of one of the main reasons he could no longer travel in the human world. He simply couldn't hold his human shape anymore. "I suppose I deserved that, knowing how betrayed you must feel. I had my suspicions, no evidence, only my instinct that the Elders had held back full disclosure regarding your adoptive parents." Ava opened her mouth, unsure of what to say and he held up his hand for quiet. Since she really didn't know what to say, she nodded and sat in the chair by her desk. He continued, "I knew, when the Elders gave you their verdict concerning your child that you would refuse. You are rarely one to fall in line with what is expected. So I finally gave into my suspicion and made some quiet inquiries. Your parents were told that you no longer wished to live in the human world and they were encouraged to relocate."

"Were they threatened?

Dwys scowled at her and shook his head. "No, Mr. Drake was offered a promotion which included a transfer to another branch of the company he worked for..."

"One the Clan just happened to own?"

"Not owned, but is influenced by. The Drakes were encouraged to accept the generous offer and, as I understand it, they reluctantly acquiesced to the transfer with the condition that you be allowed to contact them if you so choose at a later time."

Dwys pulled a large manila envelope from his robe and stepped forward to place it on the table by Ava's elbow. He set his hand on her head, a gesture of Blessing from an elder of their Clan to a younger member. "No father could be more proud of his progeny than I am of you, Daughter of my Heart." His voice cracked and he left quickly, not giving Ava a chance to respond. Trying to process this new knowledge, she sat for some time, unaware of how much time passed.

Harsh words and accusations whirled throughout her chaotic thoughts, but they were overshadowed by the fact that Dwys had risked everything to give Ava and her daughter a chance to live in the outside world after the Elders' banishment.

*~*

Once more, Ava shook herself out of unpleasant memories and realized that with Maddie down for a nap and no work waiting for her attention she actually had time to do something for herself. She grabbed a paperback she'd picked up on a whim a month ago and settled in the corner of her couch.

If glaring could start a fire, then the page Ava had just read for the fifth time would be ashes by now. Reading for pleasure was a luxury she didn't get a chance to indulge in often. Between caring for her daughter and editing for students at the local college to pay the bills, she was usually too exhausted to finish the popular mystery that had been gathering dust on her nightstand. The dryer buzzer sounded and Ava jumped up to pull the clothes out, hoping she had time to finish before her daughter woke up from her nap. Unless startled awake, Maddie would usually play for about ten minutes post nap before making demands to be set free from her crib. About halfway through matching teeny white socks the sound of a loud thump and a frightened wail sent Ava running through the house. She reached the nursery door just as Maddie's crying reached an angry note and opened the door to find toys flying around the room. MiMi zipped past her head and Ava snatched it before it flew down the hall.

Maddie was sitting on the floor next to her crib and Ava could see that the bumper pad was pushed down where little feet had used it as a boost to climb over the side. Toys started whirling faster around the room and some of them had the potential to do damage if they made contact. Dodging a plastic musical bee, Ava's first instinct was to yell, but she quickly remembered Dwys' teaching. Whenever she had either lost her temper or an eruption was imminent, he'd kept his voice even and calm. She took a deep breath and called out, "Maddie. Mommy's here." She took a step forward and dodged another toy. She raised her voice slightly to be heard over her daughter's crying. "Maddie, you need to stop making the toys fly." Ava moved quickly and dropped into a crouch in front of Maddie. She pulled her daughter into a hug and kissed the top of her head, the contact pulling the toddler out of her tantrum. The whirling toys dropped instantly. She pulled back to look into Maddie's eyes. "You okay sweetie? Did you bonk?" Maddie's russet curls bounced and she sniffled and raised her chubby hand to the left side of her head, near the crown.

Her lip quivered and she pulled in a shuddering breath. "Bonka head, Momma. Ouch." A fat tear rolled down her cheek and Ava cuddled her close, talking to her daughter about not climbing out of her bed without help. Also about not flying toys around the room because she could hurt someone. Ever resilient, Maddie was squirming to get up to play within minutes.

Bedtime that night was a scene for more excitement as her daughter put on a show that included turning on the radio that sat on the dresser across the room and making her monkey dance in the air.

Ava took a deep breath. "Maddie, it's time for bed." MiMi did a little wriggly jig past her head and Ava pulled it from the air. "Young Lady, you know it's not play time." Maddie pouted and lifted her arms, asking to be picked up. Settling her on a hip, her legs started pumping and she giggled out a demand, "Dance, Mommy! Dance!" Ava couldn't hold in the smile her daughter's pleading brought, so she picked Maddie up and executed a short tango to the sound of the generic dance beat playing on the radio. The song ended and Ava turned the radio off quickly. "Time to brush our teeth, Sweets!" It was surprisingly easy to get Maddie into bed after that so Ava was able to sit down and attempt to do some work. She plodded through a history paper but stopped when she realized she'd been rereading the conclusion without understanding it. Her thoughts kept bringing up so many different scenarios of what could happen while taking her daughter out in public if a meltdown or temper tantrum occurred. Nothing her overactive imagination came up with turned out positively. She saved the document and then closed her laptop and scrubbed tiredly at her face. Tomorrow would be a better day, right?

Using Dwys as her inspiration in dealing with a stubborn two year old seemed to be working out fine. Maddie had grown tired of trying to surprise her mother, which meant that Ava had been successful in hiding her reaction when objects flew across the room. A filched apple was quickly forgiven since Ava was glad that her daughter hadn't attempted to sneak the chocolate chips from inside the cabinet. Things were going so well she started to think she had overreacted to the potential crisis and decided to join the story time group at the library. Ava quickly discovered how dangerous it could be for someone so young to be gifted with power.

It had turned out to be a slightly gloomy day so spending an hour inside the beautiful old library before lunch was appealing. Maddie was excited to hear someone else read a story about one of her favorite characters. Ava loved the stories too. A kitten who thought he was a dog because his ears were too big had grabbed her daughter's attention like nothing else. Today's imaginary adventure would take place on Mars and Maddie clutched MiMi to her chest as she tried to wait patiently for the librarian to begin. The Story Time lady had a lovely voice and she held everyone's attention as she read; soon cheers went up as the hero bounced his way home. Cheers turned to disappointed groans as story time ended and Ava had to pick Maddie up to leave the building because the toddler had refused to walk out on her own.

Halfway to the Jeep, Ava felt the hair on her arms and neck stand up and she picked up speed. She hit the auto-start button on the key-fob and Maddie went from resistant to clinging with a painful grip as her shriek fell into a frightened whimper. Calmly, but firmly Ava told her daughter, "Sweetie, it's very important that you don't short out the car today." Maddie replied directly in her ear, "Scawy, Mommy, scawy. Scawy man. Mommy!" Ava scanned the immediate area in instinctual response to her daughter's screech. The lighted bank sign across the street sparked spectacularly, the flash drawing her attention to a man standing suspiciously still considering the danger the sign above him presented. The gloomy day would have been the perfect camouflage to hide his appearance if the sign hadn't nearly exploded, illuminating his features. Her vision telescoped allowing her to see that the man was relatively unremarkable except for the fact that his eyes were completely black. Terrified, Ava violated her conviction to never allow Maddie to ride unrestrained in the car and shoved her into the passenger seat as she climbed into the driver's seat. They were backing out within seconds and she tried to decide whether or not going straight home was wise. The man could have been anything from a shifter from an enemy clan, some other type of creature or an innocent bystander with some weird eye condition. The latter highly unlikely though. Maddie climbed into the back seat without being told and startled Ava by scrambling into her car seat. Through the rearview mirror, Ava watched the buckles move and click into place.

Backing out, she had no choice but to drive past his position on the sidewalk. Thankfully, the man was on the opposite side of the street so he would have to step into traffic in order to approach her vehicle. He didn't move however, just watched her with intense concentration. Her first choice would have been to go straight home, but without knowing what this man was, she wasn't confident that the wards on her land were sufficient protection. Some things were not deterred by either wards or traditional firearms. A quick call to Isa, the local New Ager and semi-secret hoodoo woman responsible for the protection warding off the land she lived on and Ava was assured that anything supernatural intending harm would be unable to trespass. Isa had been her mother's friend and now the woman felt responsible for both of them. It took a lot of fast talking before the older woman was satisfied with just a phone call upon arrival instead of a personal visit to the house. Adrenaline from the excitement was beginning to ebb and Ava didn't have the energy to spare for someone like Isa today.

Taking the long way home meant an additional twenty minutes in the Jeep and Ava let out a sigh of relief when Maddie only wanted to go to bed when they walked into the house. A quick phone call to her mother's friend and then Ava collapsed on the couch. It was time to call in the big guns.

She waited until after Maddie's bedtime to call. It took that long to work up the nerve. The phone rang three times before an achingly familiar voice answered.

"Dwys, I need your help."

"T... Ava, you shouldn't be calling." Ava winced at his harsh whisper. She knew that he could get into trouble if he was overheard.

"Please, Dwys. It's been over two years and I have no one else to go to for help."

"I am... sorry for your loss child. I assume since you have contacted me, all is not well?" To most, Dwys' overly formal voice would sound flat and uncaring; but Ava had lived with her mentor for many years and she heard the hesitance and concern.

"She's beginning to Manifest, Dwys. Three weeks ago, she summoned her doll three feet. I think she's been doing it for a while because it never wobbled. Every day since then it's like she's showing off. I thought since I followed your example and used patience and remained as calm as possible then it would all be fine. Nothing really bad happened for three weeks so I thought it would be safe to go ahead and sign up for story time. But this morning, after story time at the library she started to have a tantrum about leaving and the lights in the sign across the street blew out. And let's not leave out the scary creepy man standing under that sign with black eyes who did nothing but stare even while the sign was blowing out. Maddie was so scared, kept screaming about the scary man. I think she might be more than just telekinetic. What's next?"

He sighed heavily. "Ava, I did you a great wrong."

The sorrow in his voice after all this time tugged at her heart. "Dwys, I had no right to demand that you leave the Clan for me. Especially since my choice damaged your standing with the Elders. I'm so very grateful you told me that my adoptive parents were alive and where they had gone."

"I couldn't tell you everything at the time."

That ball of lead began to settle in Ava's stomach again. "What do you mean?"

"The motivation behind the Elders' decision to banish you when you refused to destroy the child."

"Because they're a bunch of bigoted, xenophobic assholes?" Her attempt at humor fell horribly flat. Even though she'd meant the words, Ava whispered an apology, "Sorry, Dwys."

"Child," his voice softened further, so much so that it would be apparent to anyone "you must understand why I couldn't tell you; how dangerous the child's father was."

"Dwys!" Ava choked, "Are you telling me that you all knew who fathered my child?"

The ear piece of her phone buzzed with the volume of his answer. "He was a danger to all of us! And only The Great Dragon knows what she has inherited from him!" Dwys' voice cut off sharply and Ava was sure he'd growled a very naughty curse. Only his breathing could be heard over the line for several moments. Her need to gather her composure gave him time as well.

Ava drew in a shaky breath. Dwys, whose name literally meant solemn, was nearly hysterical. He was the only male, or 'rhys' of their clan she had met that had always carried himself with dignity. The only rhys of the dragon clan she was born of that ever treated her as more than an inconvenience; the one who never raised his voice at her, ever... had just bellowed at her and had invoked the name of their clan's deity progenitor. She could hear the fear in his voice and the lead in her stomach dropped down to her toes. "It's that bad?" Her voice was barely audible, but she knew he could hear.

"Child, had he been a mere endowed human, the mixed heritage would have posed less of an issue. The man is a highly gifted telekinetic and precognitive."

Never known for her patience, Ava interrupted, "I thought those gifts were welcomed in the Clan. Not that I don't agree, but how does that make him dangerous?" Dwys didn't respond, waiting as he always had when she interrupted him. "I'm sorry. Will you continue please?" She heard the smug approval as he resumed his explanation.

"Ava, Tywyll, the man who fathered your child was possessed by a Fallen."

Ava sat down on the coffee table, oblivious to the creaking of the wood. Her daughter, her lovely precocious blessing was the offspring of a Fallen. Her people had the most extensive records regarding history and creatures and what little they knew of the Fallen was barely enough to fit into a book less than an inch thick. She remembered finding it while working in the archives. Reading it had left her with a strong feeling of foreboding. One passage stood out in stark relief in her mind. No one knew what would happen if a Fallen managed to produce offspring because known pregnancies were either terminated or the mother was killed before giving birth. Ava thanked Dwys with a whisper and hung up, oblivious to his protest.

A shriek of horror pulled Ava to her feet and she flew down the hallway and was through the door of Maddie's room before she realized what was happening. Her daughter was sitting up in bed, terror clear on her sweet face. MiMi was clutched so hard to her chest Ava wondered if the monkey's head might pop off. Maddie's shriek trailed off and the toddler threw herself at Ava as soon as she reached the bed. "Bad! Bad, scawy, Mommy!" Her daughter climbed until she was fully wrapped around her mother and shivered uncontrollably. Ava began humming a lullaby she'd sung since Maddie was born. Ava was by no means a talented singer, but her daughter loved to hear her sing so she continued the humming. Paul McCartney had sung it better, but it was one of her favorite songs and it never failed to calm Maddie. She rocked her daughter with a rhythm as old as time and eventually the little girl fell back to sleep, her rounded cheeks flushed with exhaustion.

Ava managed to fall asleep a few hours later. When her daughter woke her up at the crack of dawn wanting to start the day with an enthusiasm that only the young can create after a night like that, Ava had to put on a happy face. "C'mon Momma! Pannycakes?" She managed to stumble-shuffle into the kitchen and the effort of maintaining a cheerful attitude eased as they enjoyed a humor filled morning. It was a welcomed distraction from the strain of a sleepless night. The anxiety and concern had been building since her daughter had shown her growing powers and Ava made an executive decision. They ignored the phone for the whole day, trying not to think about the potential danger of life in general for the Drake family. She focused instead on having as stress-free a day as possible. Curiously, Maddie didn't mention her nightmares or the scary man during the light of day and Ava was reluctant to remind her daughter of something so terrifying. A quiet meal in the evening and an enthusiastic bath time left Ava desperately exhausted and Maddie cooperated by going to bed without protest. A few hours after Maddie's bedtime Ava was sprinting down the hall again as her daughter screamed in terror of the 'Scary Man.' The closet door had a rather large dent from the dresser careening into it. Ava decided that perhaps they would both benefit from having a sleepover in her room so she sat Maddie in the middle of her bed and rummaged through her closet for the portable toddler rail.

Two days later, Ava was watching the news and started preparing the house for bad weather. The storm cell headed their way looked pretty serious and the announcer cautioned everyone to prepare for power outages. Maddie was playing quietly in her room so Ava made use of the time and gathered her emergency kit and other supplies in the dining room. Since the night Maddie telekinetically threw her dresser into her closet without opening the door first, Ava had had her daughter sleeping with her. There were still nightmares about the scary man, but as long as Ava touched her daughter right away flying furniture didn't happen. Keeping her daughter occupied during the day as the weather built up into a very nasty storm was another challenge. Even with many books read, including multiple repeats of their favorite Kitty-boy and a rather guilty bribe of S'mores roasted in the fireplace Maddie was agitated. If she were merely hyped up Ava could attribute it to the sugar, but bath time was particularly trying when agitation morphed into a tantrum and a bottle of shampoo ended up squeezed flat against the wall, the liquid streaking down the tile to puddle on the floor. Afterwards her daughter seemed embarrassed and things calmed down a bit, enough that Ava decided to have an early night for the both of them. They rolled out their sleeping bags in front of the fireplace and Maddie snuggled in the crook of her arm and fell asleep surprisingly fast for the amount of sugar she'd ingested.

Ava sat up, breathing heavily. The storm was raging outside and she couldn't recall what had startled her awake but she realized Maddie wasn't beside her and she jumped up. A quick search didn't produce her daughter right away and a cold lump dropped into her stomach. Both back door and front were still locked, including the heavy-duty hotel-style security locks she'd installed right after Maddie had started walking. As she passed her bedroom door, Ava heard a faint humming and she headed toward it. Even though the rest of the house was dark, the nightlight in her bathroom was glowing softly and as she pushed the door open her daughter's body was reflected in the mirror. She was humming a lullaby Ava sang to her on nights Maddie seemed to need comfort. Maddie always asked for more when she sang. Smiling softly Ava reached for her but stopped when Maddie turned to look at her with pitch black eyes. A giggle fell from her daughter's lips and a chill ran down her spine. Movement beyond her daughter drew her attention and Ava gasped at the sight of a large shadow moving in the dark. The shadows slipped away from his face and Ben smiled, his teeth gleaming in the dark. Ava pulled Maddie into her arms and backed away not understanding why her daughter was reaching out to him.

"Momma!"

Ava drew in a breath to protest and felt little fingers squeeze her face. Her eyes flew open and her vision was filled with the sweet face of her daughter.

"Hungee, Momma! C'mon!" Maddie bounced up off her stomach and Ava grunted. Her Little Boo was getting heavy. The nightmare started to fade and Ava thought about what it could mean. Possibly nothing, but her luck hadn't been running that way lately.

Standing at the sink, Ava inspected the damage out in the yard while Maddie babbled to her stuffed monkey. There were branches everywhere. She would need to haul it all out to the brush pile on the back of the property soon, before the weather turned cold otherwise she'd have to either get a babysitter or hire someone to haul it for her. She pulled out the play dough for Maddie to play with while she packed them a lunch. The brush pile was due for a good burn and Ava was feeling the need to incinerate something. It was the reason she piled debris on the back of her property. It kept her land clear and kept her in practice. Accurate aim with fire wasn't easy and she had no intention of letting that gift fall unused. She turned to her daughter and was surprised when she said, "Mommy make pwetty fires?"

Ava grinned. "Yes, Sweetie. Mommy is going to make pretty fire. But we have to clear up the yard first. You want to help?" Maddie nodded vigorously and they headed outside. With her daughter sitting on the back of the extra-large seat she'd had installed, Ava drove the garden tractor out of the garage and hooked up the trailer she used to haul stuff around. It took most of the morning and by the time they got to the brush pile it was time for lunch. Maddie kept picking up different interesting things and asking, "Wha' dat, Momma?" Ava unloaded the trailer, Maddie doing her best to help before climbing up on the tractor seat to watch the fire show. Her daughter's constant babble stopped mid-flow and Ava looked up to see her huddled on the seat. Her eyes were impossibly wide and fixed on something over Ava's shoulder. Whirling around, Ava saw the scary man from town standing at the edge of the warding boundary, his coal black eyes locked on Maddie.

A rumbling hiss boiled up from what felt like the bottom of her soul and Ava let it out, feeling the burn of fire at the back of her throat. "Who are you and why are you here?" She growled out the question with a voice that would have been impossible for a human. The being turned his gaze on her and Ava felt the hackles on the back of her head rise.

"The girl is yours?" His voice was oily and tainted the air with filth. Ava clamped down on the instant instinct to incinerate this creature with a cleansing fire. She needed to know if he was working alone.

"She is mine and no one shall touch her." The rhythm of formal speech seemed natural and helped with Ava's struggle to maintain composure.

The creature ran his hands flat over the invisible warding boundary preventing his approach. He cocked his head and attempted a smile. "I assure you, she would be in good hands if you would gift her to me. I would be most generous in payment."

Ava's hold on formal speech slipped and she growled, "Go sell your crazy someplace else, asshole. I'm not handing my daughter over to you or anyone else who thinks they want her."

His smile turned into a nasty sneer. "I am only one of many who would be interested in the child." He paused when Maddie whimpered in terror and his smile widened. "Knowledge of her presence will spread and at least in my possession she would live, for I'm most interested in her power." He scented the air, his movements lewd, turning Ava's stomach as her rage started to build. "I am as yet uncertain if she would serve or apprentice; she could quite possibly be worthy as a vessel when she matures."

Maddie's scream broke Ava's hold on her rage as it reached its boiling point and she ignored finesse for full immediate engulfment. Just before the fire reached him, Ava noticed his body shake as if receiving hard body blows. Shards of wood had embedded into his chest and they ignited as soon as Ava's fire reached him. Her fire burned white hot and she squinted against the glare. If her eyes had either been closed or wide open, she would have missed the mass of oily black mist ooze out of the creature's mouth and nose before streaking away into the forest. She tried to track the movement of the mist, but her attention was snatched back by the entire brush pile landing square on the burning body of the creature. The wood caught instantly.

Ava whirled to face her daughter and swallowed back a scream at the sight of her daughter's eyes. They were nearly solid black, the green iris a thin outline. Shaking from adrenaline, Ava tried to maintain some calm and held back a relieved giggle when the black began to recede. For a brief moment, Maddie's eyes had the vertical slit of a dragon before rounding out into a human shaped pupil. Tears glistened on her chubby cheeks and Ava ran to her, sweeping her up into a hug as she let the relieved laughter spill out.

Maddie leaned back to grin up into Ava's face. "Bad man made pwetty fire!"

She probably shouldn't have laughed, but she did and Ava really didn't feel guilty.

About Charlotte Dhark

Charlotte Dhark began writing as a way to maintain sanity and even possibly escape reality for a brief period, but it soon turned into a passion that couldn't be sated. She is convinced that being married to the same man for 20 years and not having committed mass mayhem is nothing short of a miracle and should probably produce some highly lucrative writing endeavors. When asked how old she is, Charlotte will smile, nod and say, "Old enough to know better, but still young enough to really not care!" This viewpoint is what has helped her keep up with her husband, five children and the family cat all these years.

Author Blog: <http://dharkcharlotte.blogspot.com/>

**The Wager**

By Lisa Goldman

Wretched fishermen.

The Wharf bustled with customers, beginning to drink themselves into intoxication. Most were men reeking with the same stench as the four who just entered the establishment. But whereas the bar had hummed with chatter, it now erupted with echoes of the fours good fortune. The rippling effect caused my listless approach of watching and listening to be nearly impossible.

Apparently, the men made a bet with the crew from The Wager to determine who could catch the most tuna. To the fours delight, the men from The Wager lost.

Gloating and cheering, they order a round of beers and butted fists or slapped the other patrons on the back.

Their merriment was nauseating.

I gulped down my scotch and ordered another from the barmaid. I came to Seaside, to the Wharf, to wallow in my depression alone. Allison, my BFF since childhood, accused me of running away from my problems. Maybe I was, but I had every right to be angry, sad, and every other emotion that comes with the death of a loved one. Five years ago today my husband Jonathon and my daughter Lizzie died. At seven months pregnant, I hadn't even had the chance to hold her tiny fingers in my palm or feel her warm breath on my cheek.

Tears burned my eyes; blinking them back, I placed my hand on my stomach.

That bastard truck driver.

Minutes before midnight, we were driving back from celebrating Jonathon's mother's birthday. The swishing of the wipers and the rain droplets lulled me to sleep. I hadn't awoken until I heard the tires screeching and Jonathon's shrieks. My eyelids popped open in time to see the headlights from the big rig a moment before it plowed into our car head-on. Jonathon and Lizzy died on the scene. I never had the chance to say goodbye or I love you to either of them. That part stabbed at my heart daily and I'll always regret how they were taken from me.

After internal surgery, I spent weeks in intensive physical therapy. I used to wonder why I survived when Jonathon and Lizzie hadn't. Often when I thought of them, the air became thick and suffocating and I spent a lot of time alone. As the days turned to years, it got a little easier but on Jonathon's birthday, on holidays, and especially on the anniversary of their deaths, my family and friends seemed to come out in droves with good intentions of comforting me. It only made things worse so I left my hometown by jumping in my car and just drove. After three hours in the car I called Allison because I wanted at least one person to know why I left and make sure an APB wasn't issued for my disappearance. She didn't think I should be alone and offered to drop off her kids at her mom's and meet me. I adamantly declined.

With no real plans, I didn't know where I would end up but by my fifth hour of driving it was dark. I checked into a quaint, dilapidated motel in Seaside. When I woke up in the early afternoon hours the next day I ran down to the beach, inhaling the salty air and letting the sand squish between my toes. Eventually I sat and listened to the waves swish in and out as it lapped against the shoreline and docks farther down. I watched the seagulls circle above, a family fishing from their boat, and the larger commercial vessels dock. How long I stayed I couldn't say but it felt relaxing—therapeutic. I knew I'd made the right decision in coming here.

That was before night fell again when the dreaded midnight hour and anniversary of Jonathon's and Lizzy's death neared.

I opened my eyes, jerked back my head, and chugged my shot. I slammed down the glass and said to the barmaid, a tough looking broad with leathery skin and straggly bleached blond hair, "Cheryl, give me another."

"Maybe you should pace yourself," she said pouring my shot. She had tattoos running up each arm that disappeared under a scanty tank top.

I narrowed my eyes. I'd had four maybe five shots in the past two hours and was feeling good but nowhere near the inebriation that would allow me to forget. I didn't need her worrying or her crap and said diplomatically, "I'm not driving. I'm staying at the motel next door so really... I'm pacing myself just fine." Feeling my irritation grow, I grabbed the bottle of scotch out of her hand. "In fact, I'll take this."

Her mouth dropped like she wasn't expecting my reaction but she recovered quickly. "I'm only watching your back." Her eyes scanned the crowd where high testosterone cheers rang out before they fell back on me. "Look you're a pretty girl and some of these guys haven't seen or been with a girl in weeks."

I shrugged making my expression indifferent.

"Fine but the scotch is expensive and I don't want any trouble. Perhaps you should pay your tab." She laughed uneasily. "You know, while you're still lucid."

I mustered my most enduring smile and pulled out my wallet. "Perhaps I should."

Before I could pluck my credit card out a wad of cash was slammed down beside me. "I'll pay for it." The male's voice was deep with a hint of an accent like he hadn't been back to his home country for many years.

My eyes traveled from the money to a large hand and all the way up to a burly six foot tall man with sun-kissed skin and muscles that flexed with his slight movement under a tight fitted tee. He had deep-set dark eyes, jet-black, curly hair, and a short scruffy beard like he hadn't shaven in weeks. He reeked of fish and salt water. He wasn't any of the fishermen I'd observed moments ago but he was definitely a fisherman. My eyes traveled over him again, one who could pass as an underwear model.

I looked him directly in the eyes so he'd clearly understand my assertion. "It's your choice but I'm warning you now, I'm not some cheap bimbo you're going to hook up with because you bought me some scotch. If that's what you think you can take your money and go." Cheryl patted my hand, gave me a tight approving smile and moved onto another customer. I focused back on burly, hot dude. "I'm not interested in hooking up and I'm definitely not interested in a conversation."

For half a second he looked hurt. Glancing at his muscular chest that was at my eye level and back up to his bad-boy face, I doubted he'd had many rejections. Precarious sexual positions with him flashed across my mind. God knows I hadn't done it in what felt like forever but how could I when Jonathon and Lizzy's deaths were the reason I ended up here?

His lip curled into a sideways mischievous smile, making him look even sexier.

I felt my lips curl into a flirtatious smile. Stop looking at him that way, I scolded myself and forced a frown.

"How about we have a little wager? I'll pay for the scotch either way."

Curious, I raised my eyebrows. Since the accident, I'd had jobs on and off but I battled depression and constantly called off work. The inconsistency left me drained on funds and this side trip wasn't helping the situation.

"We share the bottle and drink at the same time. We can go as fast or as slow as you want but whoever gets the last full shot wins."

I stared at the bottle. The fine line of liquor through the dark glass indicated it was a little over half full. "We'll know when it's close to the bottom and either of us could pour ours first."

"True, but we'll drink the same amount and since I'm a gentleman, the lady's always comes first." He gestured to my glass.

After a moment of consideration, I doubted he knew how many shots were left. The game was based on luck and seemed fair. "Okay," I said still reluctant. "You said you'd pay either way so what do you get out of it?"

"Simple. If you win, I pay and then I walk away."

"But if you win?"

"If I win, you kiss me."

I laughed. "I'm not having sex with you and I'm not looking for a conversation."

He smiled mischievously, his lips disappearing under his whiskers. "I understand. It will be your choice but I'm a gambling man. You'll change your mind." His voice flirted between confident and predatory.

I chuckled. Gorgeous and conceited. Maybe the night wouldn't be so awful after all.

I leaned over the edge of the bar, grabbed another shot glass and handed it to him. "Pay up." I took my full glass and the bottle and headed for an empty table in the corner.

He didn't drill me with questions or make small talk as I expected. Instead he stared at me with such intensity I thought he was undressing me with his eyes, and part of me wanted him to. I felt my cheeks burning in a blush, which made him smirk triumphantly. We'd finished our third drink and I couldn't stand it any longer. I broke our silence. "Are you a fisherman from the winning boat?"

"No. I'm from The Wager but I'm also a lover of the sea...among other things."

I continued asking questions and he answered only when prompted. Nearing closing I found myself feeling the numbing effects from the spirits and I told him about Jonathon and Lizzy. He sympathized and grabbed my hand over the table. Despite his original cockiness and now nurturing side, I sensed he was holding back like an untamed roughness about him was ready to burst out. What I couldn't figure out was if it was part of his game to get me talking—or more likely into bed—or if it was his personality.

Again, an awkward silence fell between us and I felt a blush rising on my cheeks once more. I glanced at a framed painting behind his head. The picture featured a large, winged sea-serpent with golden eyes. The creature swam in the ocean with a town in the background. A small, engraved brass plaque was attached to the bottom of the frame. I squinted to read it.

"It says 'Beaucaire, France'," he said without turning. "It's from my hometown. I gave the picture to Cheryl a few years back."

"Oh? It sounds like there's a story behind it." I lifted my glass and drank it.

Following my lead, he drank his and refilled both of our glasses. "The artwork depicts the myth of Drac. He is the monster you see, born at the bottom of the Rhone River."

With my elbows resting on the table, I leaned forward placing my chin on my fisted hands eager to hear more.

"According to the legend, he seeks a woman who can see past his imperfections to love him in his true form."

"And what is that?"

"He doesn't like being a sea serpent but he is what he is: a monster. And I'm not just talking about his serpent form. He's impulsive and demanding. If things don't go his way he sets forth a catastrophic rage that can be felt hundreds of miles away. So you see, he doesn't just believe he is a monster, he knows it."

I glanced at the picture again, at the fiery rage in his eyes but I thought they held a sadness too. "Did he ever find his true love?"

"Once he thought he did. In 1250, he courted a lavender seller. She went willing with him to his castle at the bottom of the sea, although others say she was abducted. She gave birth to his child and spent seven years with them. His kingdom was attacked. Their child died and she wanted nothing to do with him. He brought her back to the village but he couldn't stay away from her despite her verbal refusals. One day, she had had enough and was telling everyone at the market of the monster that lived in the river. He ripped out her eyes but his rage didn't stop there. He killed over three thousand villagers and knights before he calmed back down."

I was torn between empathizing with Drac or the townsfolk. "What happened to him?"

He shrugged. "Armies tried and failed to kill him but eventually he just disappeared. Some believe he died of old age. Others believe he is still living at the bottom of the Rhone River."

"What do you think?"

He put on that mischievous grin that made me want to reach out, draw him close and kiss him. "He's searching the world one port at a time for his true love."

I sighed. Despite the devastation, it was romantic.

For the first time since we started our game, he took a swig of his scotch first. I followed, swallowing the smooth liquor too.

Cheryl came over. "Closing time."

I picked up the bottle, swishing the liquor around. "Not much left."

He took it out of my hands and held it up to eye level. His mouth pressed into a straight line. He filled my glass and when he poured his, it only went half way up. He tilted his head back, poured in the liquor and slammed the glass down. "You win."

"I win," I repeated as my slow intoxicated mind caught up. Then my voice turned excited. "I win, I win!" I pounded a fist in the air, stood up and danced unsteadily in a circle.

He chuckled and in my last twirling circle, I stumbled and fell face-first into his chest. I froze. A part of me wanted to be in his arms but another part of me was scared.

His large fingers reached up and tilted my chin up. "I would've liked that kiss but no hard feelings, Miss..."

He let his words trail off. I debated giving him a fictitious name but I decided against it. "Treasa...Mrs. Treasa Bronson."

"Ah...a woman with a strong heart and soul." His accent sounded more pronounced.

"Huh?"

"Treasa. It's Irish for strong. Is it not?"

"I suppose. I don't know."

He dropped his hand. "Perhaps we shall meet again Treasa."

I liked how my name rolled off his tongue.

He walked backward, his dark eyes piercing mine as if he was drinking in my features for one last time. My heart throbbed. I yearned for his lips to reach mine as his muscular arms cradled me.

As he turned and went out the door I sucked in a breath. The air was suffocating. I hadn't felt this way over a man in years. It was probably the alcohol, I told myself even as my staggered walk turned into a jog.

Panic rumbled up from my stomach as I stepped into the empty parking lot. My head whipped from side to side. He couldn't have gotten far. I moved closer to the docks, thinking he was probably heading for his boat.

I searched for fifteen minutes, finding only other drunken sailors who whistled in passing and gave me the feeling of stalkers. Finally I gave up and headed next door to my motel. I was almost at my door when I spotted him meandering on the beach. He was looking out to the rolling waves, the full moon lighting his profile like a backdrop.

"Wait!" I shrieked, the adrenaline of finding him temporarily sobering me up as I ran toward him.

He turned and ran toward me meeting me halfway. "What is..."

I grabbed his shirt in my fist, yanked him toward me and kissed him. He gasped under my lips and after the shock disappeared, he kissed me back. Hard and heavy. His arms wrapped around me as he lifted me off the ground. My legs willingly wrapped around his waist. My thighs tingled with anticipated yearning. I nibbled at his lower lip. He tasted like sweat and salty ocean water. I arched my back and pressed my breast against his chest. God, I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to rip his shirt and pants off and lie naked on the sand. He moved his mouth along my jaw line inching back to the tender area under my ear. He inhaled my scent as I ran my fingers through his luscious thick hair.

"Make love to me," I whispered.

His muscles tensed and then relaxed. A throaty growl rumbled from his mouth. He took long, quick strides toward the motel with me still enveloped around him.

Jerking my head back from sucking on his earlobe, I asked, "Where are we going?"

"I need a shower."

What? My hormones took a jump back. I nudged my nose into his neck. "I don't mind."

"Which room?"

One-handedly, I dug my key of out my purse and handed it to him. He jammed it in, unlocking the door and carried me over the threshold. I slammed it shut as he lowered my feet to the ground. The floor swayed slightly and before I caught my bearings, warm wet lips found mine again. The kiss turned hungry as he pushed me against the wall. I squealed. His lips moved down my neck and to the crevice between my breasts. I fumbled to unbutton my shirt. The cotton fabric finally slid off my arms and over my fingertips. Moaning as his lips moistened the lacey bra above my nibble, I weaved my fingers through his thick hair.

He pulled back and gave me a quick peck on my lips. "God, I want you. You have to know how beautiful you are but I won't take advantage of you. No regrets, okay?"

I opened my mouth to tell him that I had none but he held up one finger to my lips. I nibbled at the tip then closed my mouth over it, pulling back and sucking it to the end.

He growled, nuzzled his face in my neck and let go. "I'm taking a shower and if you still want this when I'm done, I'll be the luckiest man alive." He waggled his eyebrows teasingly and went into the shower.

My mind and body didn't stop simmering because he left the door cracked. Steam billowed out. His profile was half-hidden behind a flowery curtain but I still watched, letting my imagination fill in the gaps that my sight lacked. Water ran over his tilted head, down his back and over his tight, muscular buttocks. He turned, facing the faucet and a traitorous squeal escaped my mouth. I jumped away from the door but not before he flashed me a playful grin.

With my choice made, I undressed, crawled under the sheets and waited for him.

* * *

The next day, I awoke to beams of sunlight peeking through a crack in the drawn curtains. I lay curled up on my side. His naked body was pressed against my back and stretched around my buttocks like a hand to a smooth fitted glove. The smell of sex lingered in the air and my body hurt in a glorious way I'd almost forgotten.

The hunger pains in my empty stomach told me it was at least late morning. My eyes moved to the nightstand to confirm the time but the lamp, phone, and clock were missing. I craned my neck and peered to the floor where they had fallen. Shards from the glass lamp were broken in varying slivers. Closer to the door the contents of my purse were spewed out. And feathers from a torn pillow sporadically layered the entire area as if the icing on a cake.

My god, I thought mystified. I remembered it was a wild, almost animalistic night but this ... I mentally laughed. It was almost too much.

My eyes trailed back and zeroed in on the area around my purse again. A picture of Jonathon and I with my big pregnancy belly stuck out like a beacon. It had been the last photo taken of us. Vomit lurked up to my throat. How could I have been so stupid? I cheated on Jonathon with a one night stand, to a guy whose name I couldn't remember...assuming he'd told me at all.

I slithered out of bed, careful not to disturb this stranger. Every movement made my head pound but I managed to dress and gather up my purse contents. The guy remained asleep and breathed heavily. I stood with my hand on the door knob, glancing around the room one last time. Since the trip was unexpected, I didn't have any other belongings. I exited into the bright sunny day and took the long five-hour drive home.

* * *

I had called Allison when I was an hour from home which gave me enough time to calm my nerves...or so I thought. I'd explained my need for a friend but not the reason. She was waiting at the bottom step of my apartment building. I took one look at her and broke down bawling.

"There, there. When you're ready, you can tell me all about it. I'll stay as long as you want. Larry came home early from work to watch the kids." She wrapped her arm around me and ushered me up to my apartment, where I told her about the mysterious man, the wager, his fishing, the story about Drac, and how I'd made love to him.

She assured me I didn't cheat on Jonathon and for the rest of the night as I dozed on-and-off, dreaming of the stranger, she stuck by my side and remained my rock.

Over the next month conversation about my trip to Seaside came up a lot with Allison. I didn't feel guilty anymore and had told her that I often wished I could go back to see if that night was the beginning of a relationship.

"Why don't you?" she asked.

"I wasn't serious"

"Why not? You want to see him. It's obvious to everyone who hears you talk about him." She handed me a mug that she'd just washed and gestured to the dripping dishes on a towel in front of me that I was supposed to be drying. "When you're not talking about him, you're thinking of him. The mystery man. You can't tell me I'm wrong."

"I..." I wanted to argue with her but I felt like a bear with my hands stuck in the honey pot so I admitted, "Yes, I do want to see him."

She plucked the towel out of my hand and tossed it on the air-drying dishes. "Come with me." She led me to the hallway closet and pulled out my black duffle bag. From the way it sagged I could tell it was filled. "It has three days' worth of clothes and all the toiletries I thought you'd need. I bought you a Visa gift card too. It should be enough to get a hotel room, gas, and some meals. Go and find him."

Tears welled in my eyes. "But what if he's not looking for me?"

She put her hand on her hip. "You'll never know if you don't try." She nudged me to door.

I looked around my apartment trying to find an excuse. "But the dishes aren't done."

She put the bag in my hand. "I'll finish and lock up." She opened the door and handed me my purse.

"What about work?"

"It's only a job at a department store but I've already talked to your manager and some of your coworkers. I told them you'd need a few days off and why. They were all willing to help."

My jaw dropped. I was dumfounded. She smiled and hugged me. "Just call me when you find him."

"I will." I hugged her back. "Thank you."

I drove the long five hours back to Seaside, stopping once when I felt a little nauseous. I bought a pack of crackers and a bottle of ginger ale from the convenient store, hoping it was nerves and not the beginning of a stomach virus.

When I stepped out of my car to check into the same dilapidated motel two men dressed black suits and dark sunglasses approached me. Both had slicked back shoulder length blond hair, strong jaw lines, and broad shoulders. Except for the three-inch height difference they could've passed as twins. "Treasa Bronson?" shortie asked.

"Yes?"

"You need to come with us."

My eyes narrowed. "Why? Are you with the FBI or something? Do you have ID?"

Taller dude laughed and I really wished he hadn't because the laugh sounded more appropriate for a menacing villain from a horror flick.

The hairs on the back on my neck stood up on end. I shoved my bag at them and backed toward my car. Taller dude swatted my bag away while I fumbled for the door handle. Shortie lunged forward with a white cloth in his hand. I screamed. Each locked a vice-like grip around my arms and that cloth came down over my nose and mouth.

Chloroform, my mind shrieked, instantly feeling its sleepy effects.

I awoke in an underwater prison, the metal bars forming an eight-by-twelve rectangle around me. And when I say underwater, that is exactly what I meant because the cell was enclosed by a dome, filled with breathable air. A low hum coming from the dome registered to my ears. Outside a grand, five-story high castle complete with turrets and uniformed guards pacing across horizontal rooftops rose up from the rocky floor. Coral colored buildings decorated with shells and barnacle facades spanned in every other direction. Merfolk, both mermen and mermaids, swam by, gawking and pointing in passing as though I was their kingdom's latest spectacle.

I rubbed my eyes. Surely this was a dream. But when I opened them again, nothing had changed.

Feeling woozy and lightheaded, I stood up and took cautious steps toward the door. I shook it, knowing it wouldn't budge. "Hello? Where am I? Want did I do?" My voice was strained, pleading and on the verge of a cry that echoed off the dome walls.

Trumpets blared. The merfolk paused and faced the castle. Oversized pristine doors opened and almost in unison, the merfolk bent at the waist and bowed. Except for a jeweled crown and long, cherry-red hair that flowed aimlessly in the water my sight of their royal dictator was blocked. Trying to get a better view I jumped up and down and when that didn't work I took steps to the left. The merfolk parted making way for what I assumed was their queen. She was dressed in a formal mossy green gown and oversized scaly cape. She held a trident in her left hand and her tail fin swished gracefully, moving her forward until she was directly outside my dome. My first impression was that she wasn't bone-chillingly intimidating but with the strapping blond twins who kidnapped me from the motel parking lot flanking each of her sides, she didn't exactly look friendly either.

"I am Melusina, queen of Andria," she shrilled in a pitch so high my hands instinctively covered my ears. She opened her arms wide gesturing to the kingdom around her. The merfolk cheered. She patted the air, quieting her subjects and turned a cold gaze on me. "Treasa Bronson, you were summoned here because of your affiliation with Drac. As his mate, your punishment is death."

"What?" My voice rose as her accusation set in. "No...you're wrong!"

She continued unaltered by my outburst, "He is our mortal enemy. Word has been sent of your capture in hopes he will come and when he does, death will find both of you." She smiled revealing jagged shark-like teeth. A chill spiked down my spine and trailed down each limb. I took a deep breath and wrapped my arms, hands fisted, around my waist. "The sun will illuminate and fall through these waters for three days and three nights. By dawn on the fourth, you will be tied to that post where you will find your ultimate fate." She turned and pointed a long elegant finger to a wooden post that was etched with an ornate scene. From my peripheral vision I saw a spear fly through the water and land directly in the center of the post.

Tears burned my eyes and I willed myself not to cry. The picture of Drac, the sea serpent, flashed across my mind. Surely, there was some kind of mistake. "I want a lawyer," I demanded in a low, timid voice.

Melusina flashed me her wicked smile again. "My orders are the only judgment in this kingdom." She turned and walked back toward the castle.

"Please," I cried, shaking the bars. "I don't know Drac. I'm not part of your battle with him and I'm certainly not his mate."

When she didn't turn back I spun in a slow circle, looking at the merfolk, trying to find some ounce of sympathy. They just shook their heads in disgust like they gave more relevance to pond scum than to me.

Eventually they moved on, presumably continuing their daily task. I lay in the middle of the prison and curled up in fetal position. The existence of merfolk was hard to digest but I had bigger problems on my hands. Why was I here? Melusina claimed I was Drac's mate, but he was a sea serpent and I was well...not. Nothing made sense.

I felt weak and my stomach was churning. I closed my eyes, trying to convince myself that this was a terrible, terrible dream.

When I awoke, a loaf of bread, two bottles of water, and a bucket with a lid were at my feet. I crawled to the bread and took bite, slowly chewing and savoring it in case it was all I received. I ate only a third of the bread and then washed it down with some of the water. I pried open the lid to the bucket and felt my eyebrows shoot up. "They can't be serious," I whispered to myself, pressing the lid back on. Then I laughed, a hearty deep-down belly laugh.

I looked outside my dome. Merfolk were swimming in different direction but the crowd was considerably smaller. The water was nearing darkness and lights illuminated from windows and streetlamps. For the next two hours I paced or crossed my legs as I waited for the streets to clear. Other than the constant watchful guards around the castle I finally felt alone. I moved the bucket to the furthest corner of my cell and opened it again. I pulled out the roll of toilet paper, sat down, and relieved myself.

Over the next few days, time seemed to linger as I paced, ate, slept and pleaded with amused merfolk who stopped. I tried not to look at the wooden pole too long but it was my last night and Melusina's final words played over and over in my head. By dawn on the fourth, you will be tied to that post where you will find your ultimate fate. I was going to be executed unless a sea serpent that I didn't know saved me. If the situation wasn't so dire I would've laughed.

The kingdom's square was quiet with little to look at for over an hour. I had just settled down and closed my eyes when the ground shook. Had I imagined it? It shook again giving me my answer. I bolted upright. The castle trumpets sounded and panicked hollers echoed around me.

My heart quickened and I jumped to my feet grabbing the bars. Deep animalistic roars bellowed and a blast of fire shot at a turret a moment before the menacing sea serpent came into my view. He looked every bit like the picture I'd seen at the Wharf. But with a thick neck, wide wings and the body the size of conjoined hump back whales, he was three times bigger than I had imagined. The creature had scaly skin, wild yellow eyes and looked more like a cross between a dinosaur and a dragon than a fish.

Uniformed mermen hollered and launched harpoons and spiked balls from catapults. Drac swished his wings, spiraled to the side, and averted the mermen's attack. Drac craned his long neck and took out the row of mermen and catapults with a single fiery blast from his mouth.

Flickers of lights came from my side. I whirled around and saw several more sea serpents attacking but none were as big as the first. From open house windows, merfolk rolled up cannons, where its muzzle ends peaked out. A moment later the earth shattering sound boomed as cannon balls sailed through the water. The tail of a sea serpent was hit. He wailed, shot a fiery breath, and disappeared into the shadows.

Another wailing cry came from my right. I spun and covered my head just as a sea serpent littered with harpoons landed on my glass dome. Blinding white light flashed and the constant dull hum made a thunderous electrical crack. The glass dome only fractured but with the creature laying awkwardly on it, the fine lines splintered in larger gaps. Water seeped through the holes and I knew it would only be a matter of time until I drowned or I was smashed. I had only one hope and despite my fears of him, I ran to the door, shaking it. "Drac! Drac!" I shrieked. He didn't hear me.

The overhead glass groaned at the dead serpent's weight and water quickly rose to my waist. "Drac!" I cried out again.

The massive serpent's head snapped in my direction and panic flashed across his yellow eyes. He swirled, smashing his powerful tail into a tall building, and swam toward me. The water had moved up to my chin and I started treading it. Drac rammed into the dead serpent, effortlessly pushing it off but shattering the remaining dome. I inhaled a big gulp of air, knowing it might be my last. His arms reached down and pried open the roof's metal bars as if bending straws. I started to swim toward him but the incoming current was too strong. He scooped me up and cradled me in his arms.

Fleeing, spiked balls and harpoons were launched at us from different directions. Drac spiraled over and over, changing direction so quickly my head spun. Andria was becoming a distant city and Drac looked down at me. His eyes seemed to soften as he lifted me higher. Looking past him, I saw Melusina. She smiled scathingly and threw her trident toward us. I screamed, taking in hefty amounts of water. He curved his neck and body protectively around me and burst into the open air, his wings flapping like a bird. I gasped. My lungs burned with the welcomed oxygen.

With wings dipping into the water as he flew, Drac brought us closer to a boat. He kept his grip tight on me but I felt his energy slow. Black smoke puffed out through his nostrils and his even breaths became laborious. When I reached up and patted him soothingly a slick crimson liquid covered my hands. Blood, my mind shrieked. Looking for the origin, I craned my neck and found the three pronged trident sticking out of his scaly flesh.

I didn't have time to react because he brought us around to the stern side of the boat and set me down but not before I saw the name of it. "The Wager," I whispered, shocked.

Crew members quickly surrounded me. Their murmurs over my health and potential attacks on the boat I barely heard as I lost sight of Drac. From the myth and the power I'd seen, I knew I should be scared but my execution had been set. He'd risked his life, becoming mortally wounded, to save me. Even if I wasn't on a boat, I couldn't run from him now.

I pushed the crew members aside. I didn't see the sea serpent; his sure size I wouldn't have missed. More crewmen were hovering over a man barking raspy orders. I knew that voice and that accent, I mentally told myself and hollered, "Let me through."

With the exception of one man who looked like the medic with his stethoscope, the men parted, running and arming themselves with weapons. My heart sank as I stared, wide-eyed, at the man lying on his back with a trident sticking out of his bloodied chest. His black curly hair dripped with water but he was every bit as gorgeous as I remembered. His eyes met mine. He extended his hand then just collapsed.

I screamed.

The medic yanked out the trident, mended his wound, and had him moved to his quarters.

The crew, especially a man named Jacques, attended to my every need. He hustled back and forth offering fine clothing, rich foods, and entertaining jokes. After eating nothing but bread and water for days, every food he suggested made my mouth water. But when I sat at the head of a long table while plate after plate were placed in front of me, my appetite disappeared. A flaring seasickness that never seemed to completely go away replaced it.

It had been two days since Drac collapsed, no further attacks came, we hadn't reached land, and I'd resigned to bed when Jacques knocked on the door announcing that Drac was awake and asking for me.

I dashed over to his quarters. The medic warned me not to stay long. I agreed and hesitantly opened the door. As expected he was lying in bed. His skin was pale and his lips were cracked. He didn't look like the strong, arrogant man I'd met in Seaside or anything like the scaly monster who'd rescued me.

"I have much to tell you," he said gesturing to the bed.

I smiled weakly and sat on the edge.

"I suppose you know my name."

"Yes, you are Drac which explains how you knew so much about the painting."

"It's a true story. I just didn't tell you the part where I turned into a human to woo the young maiden."

"It's not hard to guess that now."

"And after I explain the rest, I want to know what you think. My only request is that you hear me out."

"Go on," I said cautiously.

"Several myths on me have circulated over the years but few have heard of the prophecy. It says only a woman who suffered great loss will truly accept me. The woman I spoke of from centuries ago lost her parents and brother to a fire. I thought it was her. I was wrong. But as the prophecy goes, only the woman who truly accepts me will bear my child and that child will end the feud between my kingdom and Melusina's. From the moment I first laid eyes on you I was drawn to you but it wasn't until you told me about Jonathon and Lizzy, and then when I felt your lips on mine, I knew you were the one. When I lashed out at my first wife I vowed it would never happen again. I've had centuries to master my anger. If you are with me—all with me—I will protect you with my life. I will never lay a hand on you. You will not feel my anger. I promise you that but the choice is yours."

Considering this I realized how much it all made sense now. "My choice is already made," I said adamantly, feeling a blush rise on my cheeks exactly like I had the first day we meet.

He shook his head. "Take some time. You don't need to rush into this. I don't want you to be scared of me or the monster in me."

The last part came out through gritted teeth as though he held a huge burden but I'd made up my mind the moment I left my apartment. He wasn't a monster to me. I cupped his hand in both of mine, kissing his knuckles and then placing it on my stomach. "I came looking for you before Melusina kidnapped me and knowing who—or what—you are doesn't change anything. I've fallen in love with you and after hearing the prophecy I believe we're destined to be together."

"To rule my kingdom together as husband and wife." He smiled triumphantly.

"No," I corrected. "We'll rule as a family." I patted his hand on my stomach.

He glanced down at our hands and back up. Recognition flashed across his face. "You're pregnant?"

I nodded. "I didn't realize it at first. I thought my queasiness was a virus or seasickness but when you told me about the prophecy I did the math. My cycle is like clockwork. I never miss my period. We made love a little over a month ago. I have to be pregnant."

With a burst of energy, he sat up, gathered me in his arms and kissed me.

About Lisa Goldman

Lisa Goldman is a fantasy/paranormal romance author for short stories and novels usually for the young adult genre. Once a mathematics teacher, she's now a domestic goddess, avid reader and writer in rural Pennsylvania, living with her four children, husband, dog, and two parakeets. Her oldest daughter, who is loving but challenges her daily, has both moderate physical and mental delays. Being different whether it is handicapped, the color of your skin, religious, financial status, or not having the latest style sneakers can make anyone a target for ridicule. Lisa strongly believes in helping others and treating others how she wants to be treated. Her passion for writing—however strange and supernatural—often involves these immoral prejudices or acts of bullying.

For more on Lisa or her books, visit her online at http://lisagoldman.weebly.com or facebook.com/lisagoldmanwriter.

**Obeah Love Affair**

By C. C. Hartley

One

"Hey Madison! Come quickly, something's wrong with mom. She's acting weird." the woman on the other side of the phone screamed.

"Stop screaming at me, Savannah. I can hear you just fine. What's going on?" I reply exasperated. I don't really need someone screaming. I'm hungry, bordering on cranky.

"I don't know. It's like she's possessed. She keeps repeating your name and calling you a demon. Did you tell her what you are?" Savannah asks. She's the only person in my family to know what I am.

"No. Why would I? She'd probably go ballistic if I did. Anyway, settle her down and I'll be there when I done eating." I respond.

"Ok... See you soon."

I hang up the phone. I'm starving. I scan the neighborhood telepathically. No sign of any evil doers. That's my thing. I don't feed off of the innocent. I feel getting rid of scum and curbing my appetite; a win-win situation. I don't like the nibbling here and there like others of my species. That never quiets my hunger. One full drain keeps it back and I feed less often this way. Night walkers, though, have a never ending appetite. It's like they are never satisfied. This causes most of the trouble for our species. That's how humans have these crazy myths about us; if they only knew the truth.

Vampires are a species similar to humans, but not quite human. We can pass easily. We all have one distinguishing feature; our eyes. It's a peculiar color than humans; they are silver. This day and age it's easy to cover with all these new colorful contacts. I am talking as if I'm an expert. Let me give you a brief biology of my species. Night walkers are created when vampires combine our blood with humans. The mechanics as to why they can only come out at night is still being researched. Vampires can reproduce just like humans and with humans. Human/Vampire offspring's do contain our genes and sometimes exhibit vampire tendencies; ESP and so on. These humans, if bitten, become Damphyr. You can tell a Damphyr apart from Vampire also by their eye color. A Damphyr's eye color is like copper. It glistens like gold. I am a Damphyr, but my eyes are silver; brown before my change. In all purposes, I am a vampire. This is a whole other story I don't really have time to get into. I'm starving.

I put on some decent clothes; slacks and a shirt. If it were up to me I would wear jeans and a camisole. I like to be comfortable. Since I'll be seeing my mom, I decided to make my life less complicated and wear something she will not have to nag me about. Time for breakfast.

After maybe, 2 hours, I arrive at my moms. As I'm about to knock on the door, it flies open, startling me. Savannah pushes me back and closes the door.

"You need to leave. Now!" she says hurriedly.

"You beg me to come and now you are chasing me away? You are not making any sense. What's going on here?" I am about to shove her out of the way.

"It's not safe here right now. Go to the deli 3 blocks from here. Go now."

I take off to find the deli she speaks of. I should've read her mind. I was shocked at her behavior. I order a tea while I wait.

"Is this seat taken?" A tall handsome man with dirty blond hair and silver eyes asks.

"Sup Saul... You can join me if you want. I see you're still stalking me." I respond, a bit coolly. I hate being followed. Apparently, I need a bodyguard.

"What's going on with your mother?" Saul asks.

"Don't know. That's why I'm here."

"So when are we going to discuss what happened in Malaysia?" he changes topic.

"I'd rather not discuss anything with you. I wish you'd forget."

"I won't forget such a night. It was memorable to me as I'm sure it was to you."

"Hi Saul, Maddie" Savannah says as she takes a seat at the table. A refreshing distraction from the conversation Saul was trying to have.

"Hello Savannah. How lovely to see you again." Saul pours on the charm. Savannah blushes and turns towards me.

"Sorry I was so abrupt. I needed you to leave. The threat is still at Mom's house. I was able to get away."

"Why did you leave mom there?" I implore.

"She's safe for now. I don't know for how long if she can't deliver your head on a platter."

"What are you talking about? Who wants my head?"

"Remember Mom's trip to Jamaica?"

"Yeah. What does it have to do with me?"

"If you let me continue, I'll let you know. Do you know you are crabbier as a vampire than you were as a human?"

"So I've been told. Carry on" I respond rolling my eyes.

"Well, she met up with this woman she described as very spiritual. She said the woman could heal all ailments. She can read your future and define your past."

"Voodoo priestess?" Saul asks.

"Jamaicans don't do voodoo!" Savannah exclaims in disgust, "but you are close"

"Are you telling me mom met up with an Obeah Priestess?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yep."

"What made mom hook up with such a person? She doesn't follow the occult"

"Apparently the lady approached her while she went visiting. They apparently hit it off. She's been talking nonstop about her and wanting to kill you. It's weird"

"Why would this Obeah woman want my head? I've not offended her. Hell I don't even know who she is."

"The kicker is just before you arrived, she showed up on our door step. She came bearing a gift. It resembled a compass."

"What?!? This is incredible. I have some new enemy that I have no clue about. Why would someone just willy-nilly want to hurt me?" I ask sarcastically.

"Do you know this woman's name?" Saul asks.

"She told me her name was Madam Curry, but mom told me her name is Violet Dupree. I don't even know if either are her real name."

"Well Maddie, you got yourself into some new mess of shit." Saul says with a smirk.

"Fuck off Saul. You seem to be enjoying this too much."

"Oh I am. You can't seem to stay out of trouble."

"It's not like I go look for trouble. It just finds me. Most of the time I'm minding my own business."

"Like the Mason case?"

"The Mason case? Seriously? I didn't do anything but walk through neighborhood when I was stalking a serial killer. They should've been happy I got rid of that vermin."

"You walked through classified areas."

"I didn't even know. I was just in the wrong place. They could've just asked me nicely to leave. Instead, they had to go hostile first. Did you know the place was classified, my faithful follower?"

"Well... no I didn't."

"Exactly. I was not looking for trouble. So I rest my case." I say smugly.

"Madison! Is that you?!" A voice really close exclaims. We all turn to find my mother a table away.

"Hello Mom." I say as I rise to greet her, bewildered as to how she knew I was there and didn't sense her. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh Sweetie. I will know where you are for the rest of your infinite life." Mom says.

"Mrs. Hearthly, how are you doing today?" Saul asks.

"Back off Demon! I only need to deal with my little demon." Victoria says looking menacingly at Saul. He steps in front of me.

"Why are you calling me a demon, mom?" I ask, shocked at her behavior.

"Those who live off the blood of others are demons." she hissed.

"You've seen me eat regular food at your table just last month. What are you talking about? I'm no demon."

"Violet said you are and I believe her."

"You believe some woman, who you've known for less than a week, over your own flesh and blood. I'm hurt."

"You've corrupted my flesh and my blood. What you are now is a walking decay." she says then spits at me.

"Mom! How dare you!!!" Savannah exclaims in utter shock. My mother looks at her and shrugs her shoulder.

"That's it! I'm done. I don't have to stay here and listen to this bullshit. If she wants to act like this, she can do it alone. Savannah, Saul, take care."

"I will find you no matter where you go, Madison. Violet gave me this." Mom says as she fishes out what looks like a compass from her bag. "It'll tell me where you are at all times. You will never escape me or divine judgment!"

I make a move to take the item from her hand and she recoils in disgust. I stare at her and shake my head in disappointment. I turn and walk normally around the corner, like a typical human. Once I'm out of eyesight, I take off into the sky.

Two

Where to go? If that thing really can track me, then a coven is out of the picture. I contemplate as I'm flying. I know. I'll head to Saul's place. He's supposed to protect me anyway, right? I let myself into his apartment. All things are easy to me. I'm a master of sneaky, or so my mom used to say.

Moments later, as I am gazing out of Saul's window, contemplating my familial predicament, Saul materializes in the room,

"Were you here all this time?" Saul asked irritated

"Yes. Where else would I be? I can't go to my place. My mom would find me there with ease." I answer a bit too smugly. Oh well, life goes on.

"So you will allow her to find my place. Putting me in danger?"

"You are not in danger. You are a big boy; you can take care of what may come. Plus where should I go?"

"You should be out looking for answers."

"I've got the answers. An Obeah Priestess named Madam Curry or Violet Dupree is after my head. I need questions."

"What are you talking about? You're not making any sense. You should be out trying to find reasons."

"Maybe you should make your questions clearer so I can answer with some sense." I answer him while mocking him. He shakes his head and leaves me sitting in his living room.

Saul and I are too much of a match. We get along too well. That's why I make things difficult. I have too much dating baggage and I just don't want to go there with him. I feel comfortable around him. He just fits. But it bothers me that he has to protect me. I can protect myself. I am stronger than he is. When I get tired and vulnerable, Malaysia happens. Then I clam up and avoid discussing anything remotely intimate with him. I just can't. To put it mildly, I got some serious social issues.

"I'm going to head over to the coven to ask Elder Marcus if he knows anything about Obeah." Saul says as he emerges from his bedroom.

"Ask if can affect vampires. I already know about Obeah." I respond.

"So you know about Obeah. Why did you act clueless?" Saul asks with a bit of an attitude, I must say.
"I was clueless as to why this woman has it out for me. Why wouldn't I know Obeah? It is part of my culture. Like Voodoo is to Haitians, Santeria is to the Latina, Obeah is to Jamaicans. However, I don't know if Obeah can affect us. It's primarily a helping thing than an evil thing. There are people with dark hearts that transformers Obeah into evil. But that's with all religions and spirituality." I answer.

"Oh... Well I'll see what Marcus has to say" Saul says as he departs. As he leaves, my cell phone rings.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hello my little demon. I have something precious to you. If you just come home I'll make sure your precious is unharmed." My Mom hisses on the phone.

"Precious? What do I have that is precious? Hmm?" I respond sarcastically.

"You and that mouth of yours. I never was able to curb it. When we cleanse you of your demon, maybe the Heavenly Father will absolve your sins and get your mouth under control!"

"What are you talking about mom? What have you been smoking? Must be some good shit!"

"If you want nothing to happen to Savannah, you will get your testy behind to my house immediately!" She hangs up the phone.

I look incredulously at the phone. Mom will sacrifice her daughter in order to get me? At this point I'm relieved that my brother and father are on a 3 month excursion in Japan. My mom has gone and lost her mind. Well more like it was taken over by this Obeah woman. I guess it's time for me to get cracking and solve this issue. It's surely grating my nerves. I believe I will head to the coven and let Marcus and Saul know my plans. Off I go.

Three

I arrive at an old church on the far side of Brooklyn, New York. It looks as if it was built in the medieval times; definitely Roman Catholic. It is surrounded by iron fences. There's even spells that deter malicious people from entering. Our coven accepts Witches, Weres and other creatures as fellow members. It's a place where we can go to be safe from persecution. We are one of few covens that do this in the world. Not every supernatural being is open minded as they should be.

As I walk in, I notice some witches whispering in the corner looking at me. I normally don't ease drop on people's conversations, but this atmosphere was weird.

Group one:

"Did you here that Madison is in deep shit with an Obeah priestess?"

"Really? What did she do to piss one off? They're not easy to rile?"

"I really don't know. But the rumor is that Madison's existence is blocking her from achieving some goal."

"How can a vampire block her goals? There are a lot of them? Why Madison?"

"I don't really know. I guess her magical power is being blocked by Madison's power."

"That doesn't make sense to me."

Group two:

"So Madison pissed off an Obeah woman?"

"Really? Thalia would have loved to hear this if she was here."

"She'll be back. But this is good. Madison may be done for."

"Yeah. Obeah women don't play. They are much stronger than us wiccans."

"Wonder what she did?"

"Beats me, but she deserves it."

Wow. I knew I'm not the most liked person. Even when I was human, people took to me and within couple of months they cooled off. Never know why, but it never bothered me. Now I have the wiccans taking sides when they don't even know me. I wish this Thalia bullshit would go away though. I need to talk to Marcus.

As I am about to knock on Marcus' door, I overhear the conversation between Marcus and Saul. Saul was discussing how I keep giving him a hard time for protection. He sounds like a CD on repeat. Marcus is trying to placate him but still keeping him on guard detail. I had to stop this conversation. I knock on the door.

"Come in." Marcus announces

"Good evening, Elder Marcus, Saul." I say as I walk into the room.

"How can I help you Madison?" Marcus asks.

"Saul probably already told you about my situation. I am requesting permission to go to Jamaica to find out why this woman has it out for me. Can you tell the Elder there about my arrival?" I request.

"I think that is a good idea, but you must bring Saul along with you." Marcus states.

"Do I really have to? I am much stronger than he is and I can take care of myself." I say, annoyed.

"My rules. I say you must have protection. I can put more people on your detail or you can just take Saul. You can go to from having just one to having 3. Your call" Marcus answered with authority.

"Fine" turning to Saul, "You ready?" As I begin to teleport, I catch the end of the conversation.

"You think that was a good idea?" Saul asks Marcus, "All you did was just piss her off."

"She'll get over it." Marcus replies.

"I hope so." Saul says and takes off.

Four

Saul shows up at my apartment maybe 20 minutes after I arrived. He finds me packing some stuff

"Hey" Saul tries to make conversation

"Hi." I respond continuing to pack.

"Marcus says we will have to stay at Elder Desmond's place."

"Of course." I respond sarcastically.

"Are you almost ready?"

"Just about. Need to get toiletries."

"Ok, I'll be in the living room when you are ready." Saul says as he leaves my bedroom.

I continue to pack. I hear my TV blasting. That guy is totally making himself at home in my place. I really need to do something about him feeling too comfy here. He acts as if we're an item. I toss the rest of my toiletries into my bag and head into the living room.

"I'm ready. Let's go." I say turning off my TV.

"Ok. Elder Desmond will be expecting us." Saul says.

We leave via my bedroom window. Did I ever tell you that flight is my favorite method of transportation? I'd fly anywhere. Soaring thru the clouds makes me feel free of all worries. You do have to worry about airplanes though. Elder Marcus loves to vanish and reappear where ever he wants. His way is faster. I've tried it. Don't like the feeling. I don't understand how we can do this. No species in human nature can. I guess that makes us supernatural.

"We are here." Saul says.

As we land we are greeted by a young man. He's definitely human. He looks way too young to be hanging around a coven, but who am I to question. Saul and I follow the man I into an office. We take a seat in front of a large marble desk. The young man tells us Elder Desmond will be right with us.

"Are we going to talk during this trip?" Saul asks while we wait.

"What is there to talk about?" I respond.

"About anything... I hate the silent treatment."

"I'm not giving you the silent treatment. Just don't have anything to say to you."

"We are always together; we should be like best friends. Instead I'm getting yes or no answers or at very best brief replies."

"A lover's quarrel?" a man with a think Jamaican accent says interrupting our conversation. We both turn towards the desk to see Elder Desmond sitting in his chair.

"Good evening my fellow vampires." Desmond says with a smile that could light up a room.

"Good evening." Saul and I say in unison.

"Elder Marcus has informed of your situation. You are free to stay here as long as you need. I have made arrangements for your stay."

"Thank you Elder. May I ask you some questions?" I ask.

"Sure. I will give you my undivided attention."

"Do you know Ms. Violet Dupree?"

"Yes. She is a well-respected Obeah Priestess here on the island. People come from all over to see her. She is rather formidable with her magic."

"Any chance do you know why she has it out for me?"

"I wouldn't know. But you can go see her sister. She's a Night Walker here on the island named Burgundy."

"What town is she in?" Saul asks

"Falmouth. Why don't you stay here tonight and pursue her tomorrow night?" Desmond suggests eagerly.

"Why?" I ask

"I figure you're tired and had a busy day. You can relax by our beach for the night." he responds with an even bigger grin than earlier.

"We will lose a full day if we do. I want to clear this matter up quite quickly."

"Relax don't worry. All will come in time."

"You relax. This woman is messing with my family."

"I understand. The coven here wants to welcome you to the island. We've prepared an island feast fit for a God."

"Maddie, can you just take tonight off and allow Elder to celebrate your arrival? It would mean a lot to Elder Marcus." Saul pleads.

"Fine." I answer a bit defeated.

"Good, good. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. First, let me show you to your rooms." Desmond says as he gets out of the chair. We follow him.

Desmond briefly shows us the laundry room, kitchen and even a sauna as we walk down a long corridor full of doors. This place has a weird set up. We get to a room, which was close to the servant area. He opens the door to a standard looking room with maroon walls. There is a bed with in center with one window. The cream colored drapes were neatly drawn facing the front on the manor. It looked more like a typical hotel room.

"Saul this room is yours. As you see, your luggage is neatly placed over by the closet." Desmond says.

"Thank you. Where will Madison stay?" Saul inquires.

"Oh, I have a special room for her." Desmond grins as he answers.

I 'm suspicious. I look at Saul silently pleading with him to come with me.

"I will accompany you to her room, sir" Saul says, sensing my distress.

"Oh you have no need to come. Madison is in very capable hands. I will not let anything befall precious here." Desmond answers. He walks over to Saul and whispers something in his ear to make Saul loses all the color in his face.

"Let's go, my dear. Saul needs to rest. He's looking quite pale. He must be exhausted. We'll see him later at the feast." Desmond says ask he takes my hand into his and walks me out of the room. I turn to see Saul frozen in the same spot.

We continue to walk for what seems like forever. I try to keep track of my surroundings so I can try to get back to Saul. He didn't look right and my tingly sense is going wild. We finally arrive to what looks like a throne room.

"We're here." Desmond says as he opens the door and ushers me in.

First thing I notice is a gigantic bed with 4 large posts at each corner in the center of the room. It's draped in bright, rich reds and gold linen. There's a Jacuzzi to the left of bed by the wall with a huge window overlooking the beach. The bathroom door is open showing a shower with 2 shower heads. The walls were gold with expensive pieces of art staggered around the room.

"This room is too much. I'll be fine with a regular room. Thanks." I say heading towards the door.

"Nothing's too grand for you, my dear. I am here to make your wishes come true." Desmond responds blocking my path."

"I don't need my wishes to come true. I am being conscientious by attending your feast. You are doing way too much." I say. There's something really not right here. I feel like he's trying to get me in bed. That couldn't be right. "By the way, where are you sleeping?"

"Right here."

"Excuse me? What the fuck!" I exclaim

"You were destined to be mine, Madison. I want you to sire a child with you. Our child will be powerful. Can you see the possibilities?"

I make my way the furthest away from him to make a strategic exit.

"What did you do to Saul?"

"Nothing. Just a freezing spell Violet taught me. He'll come to no harm unless you do as I say."

"So you do know Violet!! The mad woman who's messing with my family? Why did you not say you were close to her? "

"Technically she's my lover for many years. She disapproves of my plan to sire a child with you."

"You asshole! You are the cause of all this." I'm practically screaming.

"Not really, but whatever Violet has done only made my plans move a lot quicker. I was planning to come and abduct you. But alas you came to me."

"I didn't come to you dumbass I came to find Violet! Now let me out of this room immediately!"

"Now, now. Think about poor Saul. He doesn't deserve to die. You know he is in love with you, right?"

"Let me go, Desmond. You think you can hold me here against my will?"

"I believe Saul's life depends on it. You see, the room he's in is booby trapped. If I hit the button by the bed, his death will be instant."

"You know you can't overpower me."

"I don't want to overpower you. I want you to lay quietly so I can fill you with my seed."

Instantly, Desmond is in my personal space. I am about to strike him but suddenly I can't move. I realize he must've cast the same spell on me that he used on Saul. I am helpless. I don't know how I get into these predicaments. But I must say this is a first.

Desmond lifts me up and gently places me on his bed. He heads to his closet next. That is as much as I can see. He comes back into my line of vision and he's wearing bikini briefs. I guess that's what you call them. You know, the ones that barely cover a man's package. I nearly puke in my mouth. I do realize that I'm hungry. Not good. Not to sound cliché, but you would not like me when I'm hungry.

He walks over to me. He takes off my shoes. I cringe and die a little inside. Next, he's on top of me. I can feel his testicles on my thigh. Gross!! He starts to pull the fly on my pants. Oh Lord please let him stop. I am really in trouble here. I never should have backed down from trying to go find Violet's sister. I try to cry out but I'm still frozen. How long does this spell last? Damn it! If I ever thaw out, I'm going to rip this man's head off and gorge on his blood.

"I know you are going to be furious at me. But look at the future. Our child will be magnificent! After he's born you can go back to Saul." Desmond says.

"Desmond!" I hear his name screamed as his door flies open.

"Violet! What are you doing here?" Desmond says astonished. I think he sounds a bit scared.

"You're really trying to couple with this woman? How dare you? Is our relationship so weak you have to find another woman to procreate with?" Violet screams.

"We've been over this! I just want her to bare my child. She will make a strong child. I want you as my lover." Desmond responds.

"How can she bare you a child if she's dead. I see you froze her. Just makes it much easier for me!" Violet says. She suddenly appears in above my head with a dagger.

Desmond quickly grabs her and shoves her clear across the room.

"Don't you go near her! She's mine!" Desmond growls.

"She's yours? I thought you just want her to bare your child. I knew you wanted something more from her. And seeing she's frozen, she wasn't willing." Violet states smugly. "By the way have you noticed any new addition to your wardrobe since I came in?"

"No. " Then he looks down to see a beaded talisman around his neck. "What is this?"

Violet chants something incomprehensible and Desmond flies across the room. He seems to be attached to the wall. Violet turns and leaps on the bed, leaning over me.

"I'm sorry about this. You really shouldn't be involved, but I need to eliminate you since my lover here will stop at nothing to get to you."

"Violet!! Get away from her!! God help you if you hurt her. I will kill you."

"You will do no such thing. You don't have the power, honey. I control all the power here. You Vampires may have these extra powers, but we Obeah can control those powers. Now shut up!" She does a hand motion and his mouth magically seals. I need to learn that spell. It'll come in handy.

"Now... where were we? Oh yeah... Wiping you from existence. I am sorry I got your family involved. I was trying to flush you out. I didn't expect you to come here looking for me. Your mother is safe. My spells are removed and she doesn't remember what you are. Too bad, she's going to mourn for a while."

I look at her. All I see is a red haze. I'm starving. I see every artery in her neck and arm pulsing. I can't totally concentrate to what she's saying. Maybe it would be good that she puts me out. If I break free I don't think anyone in this room will be safe.

I feel the dagger Violet wields plunge into my side. I feel the pain. She didn't hit anything major. She is smiling as she pulls out the dagger and shows me the blood. Very bad idea, Missy. I believe the spell maybe weakening; I can wiggle my toes.

"Did you feed today?" Violet asks me then looks at Desmond for an answer. He makes an attempt to speak but of course nothing is understood. I continue to try to wiggle more things.

"Oh well. You can eat in your next life" Just as she was able to plunge the dagger into my chest, the door flew open again. Violet is pulled off of me. I hear a struggle. I then hear a message telepathically, "Concentrate on what you desire most and the spell will lift." It was Saul. He came for me. I love this man. Just don't tell him. I hear him exclaim in pain. I smell blood. I'm starving. I concentrate on that desire which is beginning to overwhelm me.

Within moments I've broken free. I leap off the bed faster than a bullet. I don't believe Violet had a chance to even see me coming. I was on top of her with my fangs in her neck. I can hear her pray that I don't kill her. I responded in kind saying "a bit too late I'm starving! You shouldn't have messed with me."

When I get off of her, I see Saul huddled over in pain. I hurry over to him and lay him down. I check over his wound. It was too close to his heart. I can hear him laboring to breathe. I also hear his body trying to heal. I bite my wrist and doused his wound with my blood. He should heal quicker. As I was licking my wrist to heal it, Desmond pulls me off of Saul and tosses me on the bed.

"Thank you for taking care of that pesky problem. Now let's continue." Desmond says.

"You have one problem. I am able to move!!" I say before I kick him straight in his balls. He mumbles something as he falls over. I jump up quickly. "I was taught to respect my elders so I am going to leave here now. Do not attempt to follow me. Don't even try to find me."

I walk over to Saul, who's doing much better. Desmond decided to try his luck again. Once he got close I uttered the same freezing spell he used on me. He froze with his expression of shock.

"You don't do your homework, huh? Shame on you. Just to let you know I'm first generation American. My family is from Jamaica. I do know Obeah. I didn't know this spell until you muttered it to me. Thanks. I also have a lot of other talents you don't know. Let me show you another." I bare my fangs and sink my teeth into his neck. I drink about a liter or so of his blood. "Now that I have had your blood, I will know when you're close to me, within a 5 mile radius. So if you attempt anything in the future... I will end you. Do you understand?"

I help Saul get mobile. Once on his feet, I turn to Desmond one last time. "Elder Marcus will be briefed on this situation the moment I get back. Thank you for such a hospitable time. Ta Ta!" I teleport directly to Elder Marcus' office.

"Madison?!?" Marcus exclaims in surprise. "What happened? What are you doing here?"

"I will tell you in a sec. Can you give me a hand with Saul?" I answer.

Marcus rounds his desk quickly to assist. I mention that I'm very hungry and I'll be back shortly.

In moments, I'm back in Marcus's office. I watch Marcus tend to Saul's wound.

"How is he?" I ask.

"He's doing better, thank you. Please tell me what happened." he asks.

"It's easier if you read my mind." I suggest. I kneel in front of him. I allow him to put his fingers on my temple. This is his way of a total mind meld of some sort. I usually do not allow it, but I was tired. The mind meld feels like a dentist using his tool to scrape your teeth. It doesn't hurt, but it's irritating.

A good 10 minutes pass before he finishes. He looks at me with concern.

"I'm sorry, my dear, about what has happened. I will let the council know about Desmond. Thank you for not killing him. Go home to your mother. I'm sure she will not remember anything of what has happened."

I get up and nod my agreement. I then walked over to Saul, bent over and whispered "thank you" in his ears. After that I left for my mother's house.

Five

I arrive immediately at my mother's door. I ring the bell. The door opens.

"Madison!! It's so wonderful to see you. I have missed you. Come in let me tell you about my vacation." Victoria says quite enthused.

I walk through the door and see Savannah sitting on the couch in the living room. She looks up and smiles at me. I make her move over so I could sit down. I bend over and give her a kiss on her cheek.

"Oh! I'm so happy both of my girls are home. I am beside myself with glee." Victoria sings as she heads off into another room.

"So how did it go?" Savannah asks.

"It's a long story I'll tell you about it later. Just know we will not see hide or hair from Ms. Dupree ever again. How was mom's behavior?" I inquire.

"Well it was scary for a second. She strapped me to a chair in the basement earlier today. I was scared she was going to kill me. Then like around an hour ago, her attitude changed so dramatically. She saw me in the chair and started crying. She asked me who did this to me. She remembers nothing. She can't even account for the couple of days after her trip."

"That's good in a way. I don't think mom could handle the thought that it was she who put you in such a predicament. Does she remember meeting Violet?"

"I asked her. She said she didn't know a Violet. She remembers meeting an Obeah woman named Madam Curry. She said the woman was weird. She was just too chummy for her liking. She said the woman would show up everywhere she went."

"Well at least she doesn't remember everything that has happened. That's for the best. I should leave. I'm tired. I need rest and some food."

"You know Mom is not going to like you leaving now that you just got here."

"I can always make her forget I was here."

"Maddie, you're awful. I hope you haven't done this to us before."

"You will never know."

"That's evil Madison."

"What's evil, Savannah?" Victoria asks as she comes back into the living room.

"Madison's trying to leave us for the night." Vannah responds.

"You just got here. Stay for a little while."

"Sorry Mom. I had a really rough day. I'm beat. I just wanted to come by really quickly to see if you guys were doing okay."

"Oh pooh. Will you at least come by this weekend?" Victoria asks.

"I will, Mom." I get up and give her a kiss on the cheek. I wave to Savannah.

"See ya." Savannah says.

I head home. I make it to the Upper East Side in no time at all. I actually walk into my apartment like a normal person. I open the door and find Saul sitting on my couch.

"Hey." I say to him.

"Hey." he responds. I sit down next to him.

"How's your Mom?"

"She's good. She doesn't remember a thing."

"That's good."

"You hungry? I am."

"A bit."

"Good you want to join me?"

"Sure, but I want to ask you some questions first, if I can?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"What happened in Desmond's room?"

"What did it look like to you?"

"I came to see Violet on top of the bed ready to impale you and Desmond attached to a wall. It's looks to me that Violet wanted him out of the way to get to you."

"If it wasn't for Desmond, Violet would never have known about me or cared. The crazy man wanted me to sire his children. He thinks they will be strong. Violet didn't like the idea of her lover messing with another woman. So she decided to get rid of me. I just was unknowingly caught in a deadly love triangle."

"Ah... Well I'm glad all worked out in the end."

"Me too. I thought I was a goner there for a second. You ready?"

"Yeah, let's go."

We get up to leave my apartment. He holds the door open for me. As I walk past him, he whispers in my ear, "I love you too." I look at him in shock for a moment and continue into the night.

About C. C. Hartley

C.C. Hartley is a Native New Yorker. She currently works as a Controller of one of the top Baby Brands as well as owns her own company. CC enjoys spending time with her husband, traveling and reading. She is also a closet geek. She loves gadgets and computers. She is working on her debut novel.

Blog: http://whitetigre2001.blogspot.com

Twitter: <http://www.twitter.com/whitetigre_2001>

**A Girl and Her Mirror**

By Mark Mackey

The night was dark, the wind cold. Despite his having a sinking feeling he would die within an hour, he did it. With his being a former employee of the house doubling as an antique shop, fired that morning, he assumed it would be easy to get in without the alarm going off. This was his mistake. Setting foot into the shop, he saw her, the woman he had seen countless times in the mirror his boss informed him was cursed. Burning red eyes like dots, her brilliant radiance causing him to squint. In his mind, she was a demon, a creature.

And then he screamed.

In Mary Catherine Yearson's mind, he had given him little choice but to do as such. With the woman, her latest descendant, running the store asleep up in the bedroom, she was afraid he might harm her. She couldn't have that.

And so, in her panicked state, she emerged from her mirror, in order to send him to one of the worst, most nightmarish places ever. The below zero, icy cold demon world inhabiting her mirror.

****

"It's not like I'm about to depart off the face of the Earth Sharon," my cousin Julie Argyles, and practically best friend said to me. The two of us were standing on the porch of the enormous sized mansion, embracing each other. I am Sharon Elsters', eighteen. Like my two seventeen year old sisters Angela and Bridget, I'm a natural witch. At the moment they stood on either side of me in observance of this whole heartfelt goodbye taking place. As is Julie, she just hasn't come into her full powers yet, thanks to her Mom wanting to take things slow with that. Now you may find yourself asking, why I don't have a stronger relationship with my two sisters like I do with Julie? It's simple, Angela and Bridget have taken to bonding together just like my cousin and I have.

"Yeah, but it just won't be the same without you, Aunt Katharine, and Uncle Fred continuing to reside here in Darkwood." I said. Feeling the first tears starting to develop in my eyes.

"Well, my parents are probably getting impatient waiting for me. You think you're going to be all right

Sharon?" Julie asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Don't worry Julie," Angela and I will make sure she's okay," said Bridget.

Watching Julie turn and start heading toward the waiting vehicle, the sadness already within me grew significantly.

"I have to get the heck out of here," I said, watching my cousin, Aunt and Uncle drive off.

"Uh-uh, you're upset. There's no telling what you might do, being the most powerful witch among the three of us Sharon," Angela replied.

"She's right Sharon, Angela and I are going with you," Bridget said.

Downtown Darkwood was so close, there wasn't a need to drive. As Angela, Bridget, and I slowly headed down Sotens street, heavily dominated by businesses and stores, I couldn't help but feel, well there was something in one of these stores just waiting for me to find and buy.

No, you're just upset Julie's gone on her way to live in Blue Winter, and want to appease it by buying yourself some materialistic object. What I didn't expect the second I pushed this from my mind, was having it invaded by a hollow sounding voice.

"Buy me." It whispered into my mind, taunting me.

"What's wrong Sharon?" Bridget asked, seeing the slight, nervous look I had on my face.

"You're not going to believe this Angela and Bridget, but I could have sworn I just heard a voice enter my mind telling me to go buy it." I replied.

"Now, that's strange," Bridget said. "Hey, you don't think another witch may now be living here?"

"I'm not a witch," it answered in the same, hollow voice.

"Tell me who you are, and where can I find you?"

"I'm in the antique shop just up ahead Sharon."

"Whoever it is, knows my name and says he or she is in the old antique shop up ahead," I said, feeling curiosity start to build over wanting to know who or what this was.

"Come on, let's go see who it is."

****

As the three of us made our way into what was named Bev's Antiques, my nostrils were immediately filled by a strong smell; a combination of musty furniture and Swiffer Dust and Shine cleaner.

"Is there something I can help you three young ladies with?" The woman behind the counter, in her late twenties, or early thirties, from my estimation didn't hesitate in asking.

"You're not going to believe this, I barely do myself, but I just had a voice enter my mind, telling me to come in here and buy it," I said. "Kind of strange huh?"

"Not necessarily," she responded. "My family and I, going back generations, have been waiting for you to finally show up."

The next thing I knew, I was watching her come from around the counter, to approach the entrance. From there, she locked it, and turned the hour sign from open to close.

"Come on in back, there's something I want to show you," she said.

This led me to start following the woman, Angela and Bridget close behind, watching her stop in front of a life size mirror.

"This mirror was what called out for you to come buy it," the woman said.

"What is it, like magic?"

"No, it's so much more than that. This mirror holds the spirit of my ancestor Mary Catherine Yearson. She was cursed into it by a witch, made a demon creature so she could save her younger sister from suffering the same fate."

"So, if this Mary Catherine is related to you and your family, how come she didn't fill your mind with the buy me message?"

"Because a true witch was the one who cursed her, only another true witch can use Mary Catherine and the power she has." The woman answered. "And so far, you're the first one ever since she was stuck in the mirror Mary Catherine has contacted. So, you're interested in her? I'll give it to you for just twenty-five dollars, since well, you're the only one who can use it."

Heading to the mirror, and standing in front of it, I didn't expect to see the most beautiful, radiant woman in my life appear. She wasn't much older than I, and she was dressed in a stunning white gown, her hair a perfect shade of navy, eyes icy blue. The only thing bothering me was the sadness on her face. She's unhappy and alone, just like I'm feeling now with Julie gone. I understood then, it was my destiny to take ownership of this mirror.

"That look tells me you're interested in it," the woman said. "Yeah, sure I'll take it," I replied.

"Thanks for bringing the van on such short notice mom," I said as Angela, Bridget and I were loading the mirror into it. In our family, she's the most powerful witch of all, even stronger then Julie's mom, and her younger sister Katharine.

"I'm just happy you were able to find something that will take away your misery of Julie being gone."

"I just bet you're glad you now have a mirror with aspirin held in it Sharon," Bridget said as she and Angela helped me get it into my bedroom; placing it against wall to allow me to face it from my bed.

"Yeah, I sure am." Sitting down on my bed, I draped my legs against the side.

"So, Bridget and I will let you spend some quality time with your new mirror," Angela said, taking her sister by the hand, and leading her toward the door.

"Just be sure to be ready to help us run the fortune teller table at the fair tonight."

Once Angela and Bridget were gone, I found myself wondering just how I was supposed to interact with Mary Catherine. Surprisingly, the answer to this came almost immediately, as she appeared in the mirror.

"Hey, is this how we're supposed to communicate, through mirror glass?"

"No there's also this way," Mary Catherine said in her resonating tone, stepping from the mirror and into my bedroom. With her joining me on the bed, I was amazed, and at the same time relieved by this. Mary Catherine and I would be able to communicate face to face, and without a piece of glass stuck between us.

"So, I can sense you're sad about something," Mary Catherine said. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's just my cousin Julie," I replied. "She just moved to a town called Blue Winter so her mom, and my Aunt could take the job of running a branch of her job."

"Now that is sad," Mary Catherine said. "I could take your cousin's appearance if you want."

"You could do that?"

"Yes."

"Okay, since you said you're not a witch, and you clearly not human, what are you defined as?"

"Sharon, I was born in the tenth century. What you just bought, and where I live, it's no ordinary mirror.

It's a portal to one of the most horrifying, most brutally cold demon dimensions ever. I just pray you, or anyone else never suffers the fate of seeing what it's really like in there."

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"Just a couple days ago, I had no choice but to send former employee of the antique store into the demon dimension held in my mirror."

"Why was that?"

"He was fired for robbing money from it. I didn't want to do it, but didn't know what else to do. Now I feel like nothing more than one of those sadistic, murdering demon creatures inhabiting my mirror."

"But you're not Mary Catherine, I'm sure there wasn't anything else you could have done."

"So, give me your opinion about what you think about me?"

"Honestly I kind of enjoy having someone around to replace Julie. The only thing I don't like about you is your name. You don't mind if I change it, do you?"

"No, I have no problem with you doing that. What do you have in mind?"

Staring at Mary Catherine, for some unknown reason, the first thing to pop into my mind was Pixie Sticks. Now, why would I think of that? I wondered. Taking the word, and starting to play around with different variations of it; Dixie, Mixie, Bixie, Trixie...Trixie. Trixie. Yes, that would be the name I would call Mary Catherine from now on!

"So, have you come up with something yet?"

"I have." From now on I'm calling you Trixie."

"Hmm, Trixie, that has a nice sound to it."

"I'm glad you approve of it. But now, if you'll excuse me, Angela, Bridget, and I have to get over to a fair taking place in town. We have to go set up the fortuneteller booth."

"Okay, I guess I'll see you when you get back."

Standing up, and returning to the mirror.

"So, you enjoying your mirror so far Sharon?" Angela asked as the three of us were sitting behind the fortunate teller's booth.

"I am. As a matter of fact, I've renamed the spirit slash demon creature, Trixie."

"Trixie, it sounds pretty catchy," Bridget said.

"Yeah, you got that right," Angela added.

Just as I started to say something else, I saw her. The girl Angela, Bridget, and I hated the most, Tracy Sanders. Her boyfriend Jason Timbers standing to the right of her.

"Why if it isn't the three weird Elster's sisters!"

"What the heck do you want Tracy?"

"What else, to have my fortune read."

An idea instantly came to me with Tracy saying this. Given Tracy had delighted in humiliating us countless times in the past, I thought I would return the favor.

"Okay, give me your right hand."

Without delay, Tracy did as I requested, allowing met turn it palm side up, putting my plan into action.

"Okay, so what's in my future Sharon?"

"Oh, this isn't good," I said, trying my best to keep from bursting out laughing. "What I see in your future, is in fact, you headed for a great, big downfall. One of monumental proportions."

As not to be unexpected, this sent both Angela and Bridget bursting into laughter.

"She told you, Tracy," Bridget said.

"Stupid liar! Tomorrow morning I'm going to destroy you and your sisters' reputations Sharon. Pathetic witch!" Tracy spat out.

"Okay, now you've crossed the line with that Tracy. "The anger starting to build over her insulting my heritage as a true witch.

"What's that supposed to do, scare me or something?" Tracy asked.

"You'll find out," Bridget replied. "And when you do, you'll wish you had kept your damn mouth shut."

"You think I crossed the line now? Just wait until tomorrow. Jason, let's get the hell out of here, I can't stand the sight of these three bitches right now."

"But we just got here," Jason whined.

"Damn it Jason, I'm not about to take your whiny crap! You've been given the opportunity to date the most popular girl at Darkwood High, and bring her to the annual springtime festival! You'd better do as I've ordered!"

"Fine all right, we'll get the heck out of here!"

"Can you believe the way Sharon and her two freak sisters treated me?" Tracy raged, once she and Jason were safely within the confines of his shiny black new pick-up truck. "I have half a mind to demand you run them over one by one!"

"Now just calm down Tracy. Let me take you home so you can get a good night's sleep."

"Fine whatever," Tracy grumbled. Turning her head to stare out the passenger's-side window.

"You know Sharon," Angela said as she was behind the wheel of her car, driving the three of them back home; "we should, well, not hurt Tracy for her evil comments, but scare her a little."

An overwhelming feeling of wanting to do this, started growing in me with Angela's suggestion. What with the way Tracy had treated my sister's and I, insulting witches like she did, she deserved to be taught a lesson to not do it again.

"So what do you say Sharon?" Angela asked. "You up for it?"

"Yeah, it's what she deserves, with how she insulted us," I said.

"Welcome home Sharon," Trixie, present in the mirror, said to me the moment I set foot back into my bedroom, and sat down on the bed.

"Come on out Trixie, I need your help with something."

"What's wrong?" She asked, emerging from the mirror glass and joining me on the bed.

"Some girl named Tracy Sanders insulted Angela, Bridget, and I at the fair tonight, and threatened to humiliate us in some way at school tomorrow. If it's no trouble, I'd like you to well, scare her a bit, to show herwhat a mistake it was for her to do such a cruel thing."

"Sure, I have no problem doing that Sharon." Agenuine look of concern was on her face, her eyes turned a piercing shade of red.

Sitting in the passenger's seat of Jason's truck, Tracyhappened to glance into the rearview mirror. What shecaught sight of was something that bestowed upon herone heck of a tremendous wave of bone chilling fright.

What it was that came to fill Tracy's sparkling hazel eyes, was her reflection, horribly distorted and out of focus. Even worse, her eyes were a piercing red. This caused Tracy's face to rapidly contort into a look of unbridled horror, one which did not escape Jason's notice. Were Sharon and her two sisters using their witch powers to try and strike back at her?

"Hey what's wrong?" Jason asked.

Immediately Tracy was filled with a deep rootedsensation of pure dread. Should she reveal to him that she had just seen her own reflection to be horribly distorted and out of focus? Oh yeah sure, that'll come off as me being totally sane and of sound mind, she quickly realized.

"It's nothing," Tracy said. "I'm just pissed at howSharon, Angela and Bridget treated me that's all."

"Well I wouldn't continue to get yourself all workedup about it," Jason answered in an amazingly calm, sure of himself tone of voice. "We're no longer at the fair, andchances are extremely good we won't be making a return trip there."

"Yeah you sure as hell got that right. Still, those three freak sister's aren't going to get away with what they did.

Come school tomorrow, I'm going to humiliate them so bad, they won't ever want to come back."

Once she got home, and into the safe, warm confines of her bed, it didn't take Tracy long to fall into an uneasy slumber and dream. In it, Tracy found herself in a scenario involving her standing in front of the booth,Sharon, Angela, and Bridget across from her. Instantlyshe felt a combination of fear and anger start swirling upwithin her, striking her with unrelenting nausea.

"I see you've come back for a second round you smartmouthed, witch hating bitch," Sharon sneered, soundingas if she was suffering from blocked, snot filled nostrils.

"Go ahead Sharon, insult me all you want," Tracycountered. "It's not going to change my mind abouthumiliating you and your two freak sister's tomorrow."

"What Tracy?" Sharon replied in an easy going, calmvoice. "Look, I'll tell you what, to show you there's nohard feelings between us, I'll give you a free palmreading!"

"I'll pass, thanks," Tracy said, wanting nothing fromthis witch and her two pathetic siblings.

"But it's on the house!" Sharon answered, soundingmore and more like the antagonist of Tracy's favoritemovie the Wizard of Oz as each moment passed.

"Look I said no!" Tracy yelled. Her mind becamefervently filled with the thought to ask Sharon about what she had seen in the rearview mirror of Jason's truck.

"I know what you're thinking Tracy," Sharoncontinued. "You think what you saw in your date's mirror was a figment of your pretty little imagination. Well guess again you smart mouthed, witch hating bitch! Your life is going to reach all new levels of pain and torment for your insulting tongue!"

And then just like that, Tracy awoke with an abruptstart. Immense sweat completely lubricating her face, her mouth incredibly parched and cotton dry. Quickly leaping from her bed and out of her bedroom into the nearby bathroom, Tracy used her right hand, fingernails covered with day-old, cracked red nail polish to spin the cold water faucet far to the right so it was hitting the white porcelain sink full blast. Seconds later, sheer nervousness struck away at her heart. The light present above her head, burning with full illumination, now seemed to take on a life of its own, and started to flicker wildly, drilling Tracy with nervousness. Just what the heck did those wannabe fortune tellers Sharon and her siblings do to me? Tracy wondered as she made herself scarce from the bathroom.

After getting a few more hours of sleep, she once again awoke from sleep to find the brightSeptember sun hitting her face full-blast. As she laid there in bed, she hoped what she had experienced during the past few hours was now at an end, and things were going to be all right.

Setting foot back into the bathroom, what Tracy saw,her face starting to show signs of aging. Damn youSharon, this is all you're doing witch!

"What happened to you Tracy?" Her best friend Becca Coldman said as she pulled her car up to the front of the Sander's house, and Tracy climbed in. "You look like you're thirty!"

"Don't ask," Tracy grumbled.

"Whatever," Becca said.

By the time she and Becca arrived at school, Tracynoticed, by glancing into the rearview mirror, the age onher face had now advanced to the point she now lookedwell into her forties.

"Oh crap, you look worse than ever!" Becca remarked,seeing this.

"I can see that perfectly well," Tracy said.

"Okay, what the heck is going on?"

"I insulted Sharon Elsters, and threatened to humiliate her sisters and here last night at the fair." Tracy replied.

"What, don't tell me, the rumors of the Elsters sistersare true and Sharon, or all of them have put an agingcurse on you?"Becca asked.

"It looks that way."

"Oh come on Tracy, that witch curse crap is only thestuff of movies and books!"

"Then how do you explain what's happening to me?"

"You're right. Come on, let's go talk to them," Beccasaid.

****

As I stood in front of my open locker, Angela and Bridget close by, in front of theirs, I happened to glancedown the hallway. What I saw, Tracy now with theappearance of being fifty, was approaching us with herbest friend Becca Coldman. I knew then what Trixie haddone, hastened Tracy's aging process.

"You sure have a lot of nerve coming near my sistersand me, with the way you treated us last night," I said.

"I'm sorry Sharon, but you can't leave me like this!"Tracy pleaded. "If you do, by the time school ends, I'll beso old, death won't be far behind!"

"But you insulted us Tracy," I said. "Not only that, but you threatened to humiliate us sometime today."

"Please Sharon, I'm sorry and begging you, don't leave me this way!" Tracy pleaded.

"No, I'm sorry Tracy, I can't. You need to suffer forhow you treated my sister's and me."

"Oh come on Sharon, that's not fair!" Becca yelled.

"No just forget it Becca. It's my fault I'm this way, and I'm just going to have to suffer for it," Tracy said. "Now come on, let's go."

Standing there watching the pair depart, out ofnowhere, I felt a sudden change of heart. Should I takepity and not let her suffer anymore?

"Trixie, I know you can hear me, undue what you'vedone."

"You got it," I heard fill my mind.

****

Stepping into the bathroom, the first thing Tracy didwas hurry to one of the bathroom mirrors over the sink to check her reflection. What she saw was that her face was back to normal.

"I guess Sharon took pity on you after all," Becca said, as Tracy came to the decision that she wouldn't beinsulting or threatening the three sister's ever again.As soon as I arrived in my bedroom, my cell phonewent off. Removing it from my purse, I checked thenumber. It was Julie.

"How was the trip to Blue Winter Julie?"

Listening to my cousin's words, I felt pure anger."What do you mean a pair of snobby girls humiliatedyou by filming you while taking a shower?" I asked. "Yes, I know you'd like to get revenge on them, and youshould."

My continuing to listen to Julie rant about what hadhappened to her brought a wave of scorching angerrushing through me. She had not even been in BlueWinter even a day, and already she had been recipient tohaving a pair of girls with a similar mindset as Tracyhumiliate her. Well, I was damned if she was going tostand idly by and allow these girls get away with it!

"Julie I'm getting on a plane to Blue Winter to put aspell on these two girls that they'll never forget! Wait,what? You don't want me to? But they humiliated you!Yeah, sure, I'll calm down and not catch a flight out."Listening further, I felt relief, when Julie' informed methat she and Aunt Katherine had just worked together to place a spell on the two girls. Amanda Hansen and Gillian Matthews, were their names.

"Good going Julie, the two bitches deserved it. Youdid the smart thing convincing Aunt Katherine and Uncle Fred you need to get the heck out of that town pronto! Yeah, uh-huh, I'll be waiting when you get here."

Following Julie clicking off her cell phone, I brought my attention onto the mirror where Trixie resided. Isuspected she knew just how I was feeling, when out ofnowhere, she appeared in the mirror's glass.

"I can sense something's troubling you Sharon." Sheimmediately said. "Tell me what's wrong?"

"It's my cousin Julie." I said as she joined me on thebed. "A pair of mean spirited girls named Amanda Hansen and Gillian Matthews humiliated her."

As she stood gazing at Sharon, Trixie couldn't helpbut feel tremendous sorrow for the girl who had heart and compassion enough to buy her. To allow her to come into her home, be a friend to her. No, she couldn't allow what had just happened to Sharon's cousin go unpunished.

"Sharon, I'll make sure Amanda and Gillian suffer forwhat they did to Julie," she said.

"No, it's all right Trixie, Julie told me she doesn't want my help," I replied. "Besides, she's on the way back here even as we speak. I'm sure once she gets here, I'll be able to convince her to do otherwise."

Continuing to stare at Trixie, I was hit by a suddenwant to have her come out of the mirror and join me onthe bed.

"Hey Trixie, you think you can come on out and joinme on the bed? I need you at my side right about now."

"That's what I'm here for Sharon, to be a best friendfor you," Trixie said, emerging from the mirror and doing just that.

"So, here we now sit Trixie, a girl and her mirrordemon," I said bringing my head to rest on Trixie'sshoulder. It didn't matter that it felt cold and clammy,what mattered was we were best friends. Nothing wouldever change that fact.

"And we will be best friends forever Sharon."

When I informed Angela and Bridget about what hadhappened to Julie, they were mad as all-heck.

"I swear Sharon, the three of us should get togetherand perform a spell to make Amanda and Gillian wishthey were never born!" Angela yelled when I told herwhat happened.

"Angela's right," said Bridget. "They can't be allowedto get away with it."

"Now just relax, and calm down you two. Julie's on the way here, and when she arrives, then we'll figure out what to do about Amanda and Gillian."

"I'm in the mood for some ice cream, you up for thatSharon?" Bridget asked.

"So, how's it going with your new mirror?" Angelaasked, as she, Bridget, and I strolled through Darkwoods, slowly licking chocolate chip ice cream cones. The bright sun beating down upon us, the temperature just right.

"It's going great, I replied.

And it was, I realized. Then it dawned on me, I hadn't really introduced Trixie to my sister's yet.

"Angela, Bridget, how could you two have allowed me to not introduce you to Trixie?"

"Hey, don't sweat it Sharon," Angela replied.

"Angela's right big sister," said Bridget. "The way I see it, the reason Angela and I didn't push you to introduce us to Trixie; is because we wanted you to become acquainted with her first."

"Yeah, I couldn't have said it better myself," Angelacontinued.

"Well, I'm not going to prevent you from meetingTrixie any longer. The moment we get home, I'mintroducing you to her."

"Trixie, come on out, I want to introduce you to mysisters!" I called out, the moment, Angela, Bridget and Iarrived in my bedroom.

"What's wrong Sharon?" She asked.

"Nothing's wrong," I replied. "Trixie, these two are my younger sisters, Angela and Bridget, I feel so utterlystupid I didn't introduce you to them earlier."

"Hey, cut it out Sharon," Angela replied.

"Yeah, Sharon, it was an honest mistake. Don't gobeating yourself up over it," said Bridget.

"Well, anyway, like I said Trixie, these are my twosisters."

"Are they natural witches like you Sharon?" Trixieasked.

"One hundred percent, I replied.

A few days later, I watched from my second floorbedroom window as Uncle Fred and Julie pulled up to the front of my house. Almost immediately, I was brought to feel a tremendous excitement. My cousin was here. She was away from those spiteful two girls. As I watched Angela and Bridget rush out to greet her, I was filled with absolute bliss. Both my beloved cousin and my best friend who resided in a mirror were at my side. Things couldn't get any better for me at the moment.

"I can sense you're feeling happy Sharon."

"Yeah, I sure am best friend."

About Mark Mackey

Mark Mackey lives in Chicago, twice he's won Indie Gathering screenplay awards.

Links: http://www.facebook.com/?ref=logo#!/mark.mackey.127

**The Bargain**

By Rebecca Nolan

1

The night was broken as the headlights pieced the fading darkness. The Ford pick-up rounded the corner, its massive tires hugging the road as if to dominate it. It was still cool inside the truck, the night air bringing relief form the summer heat. They were only seven hours into the trip, one they had done many times before. Abby was happy to be going home after a long semester of studying at college; it was fun but nothing beat just sitting around chilling, having someone clean for you and home cook meals. Abby was already dreaming about her mother's famous strawberry and cream pie. She could almost taste it and her tongue instinctively darted out, licking her lips. She groaned as the foul taste of....well she didn't know exactly how to describe it, touched her tongue.

Abby yawned, stretching out her arms as she arched her back. Her legs had pins and needles from being cramped for so long. Carefully, she tried to stretch them out as far as she could. A part of her long blonde hair clung to her face. She pulled it back into a nice tight bun at the back of her head. Her heart-shaped face always looked better with her hair down but in the car she preferred to have it up. Somehow her five-foot-five frame filled the car seat making it almost impossible to get a good stretch.

"Good morning Sleeping Beauty. I was wondering when you were going to wake up." A familiar voice sang out to her. Abby turned her large doe-brown eyes on Gabe and smiled.

"Hmm, what time is it?" she managed to get out before yawning again.

"It is almost four." Gabe answered, not a trace of drowsiness to be found in his husky voice. Abby looked at Gabe jealous; he was so well put together in his designer jeans and designer shirt that was unbuttoned over a tight white singlet. His angular jawline and short haircut gave him a very corporate look; which was funny when he was the one studying acting. If it weren't for his wrestler physique and six-foot frame he would have fit in perfectly on Wall Street. Instead Gabe looked like one of those football player types that sell Subway or something on TV.

Picking up the travelling mug she took large gulp of her now cold coffee. The truck hit a pothole, forcing the mug from her hands. The tiny bit that had been left in it was now all down the front of Abby's light-weight knit sweater.

"Shit!" she hissed annoyed with herself. If she didn't act quickly it would stain. Grabbing her purse she pulled out some tissues and began to dab at the spot. Gabe looked at her shaking his head. Abby hadn't noticed before just how pale Gabe was looking these days. With the sun rising up in the sky it was clear now that maybe something was wrong with him. At least once they arrived home he would get some proper meals and sunlight.

"Why are you worried about that awful green sweater?" Gabe asked out of the blue. "The coffee is doing you a favor. Any color would be better than that shade of green."

Abby stared at him, her mouth open in shock. He had always been a great dresser; with sandy brown hair that was freshly cut and clean shaven. He looked like the type of guy every girl's mother wanted them to bring home. In fact, all mothers loved him. Sometimes her college friends couldn't understand what he saw in her. She was average height with some curves in the right places but there was nothing about her that screamed she was special. She was just lucky that she knew a secret about Gabe that most others didn't... Gabe was Gay.

"It's not awful, you're just color blind." She replied after a while.

"No darling, it is like some baby decided to vomit lima beans all over you."

"It doesn't look that bad" her anger seeped out with each word uttered.

"You're right" Gabe grinned. "It is more like the puke scene from the girl in The Exorcist that sprayed all over the priest. Man that was such a great scene." The excitement in his voice would have normally made Abby laugh but she was too mad at him right now. She didn't want to believe what he was saying. She wore the sweater all the time at college and no one had said a thing to her about it before.

Abby crossed her arms and turned to stare out the window. He was teasing her and she knew it, but this was her beloved sweater; it was the first thing her mother had sent her after she had left for college.

"Is it really that bad?" she asked as Gabe's laughter began to fade. He looked at her carefully with those big, bright blue eyes before nodding.

"Yes darling" He paused "It really is...but if you love it then I guess I will tolerate it for you." Gabe said softly as his hand lay over the top of hers for a few brief seconds. She sneered at him, trying not to laugh as she was still hurt and angry...he always had that effect on her.

"You're just lucky that I tolerate you, period." She teased. "Without me to play pretend girlfriend at home you would have to face up to your dad."

Gabe's face displayed mock hurt at the statement but Abby knew different; it had been a low blow and now she felt bad. The air became tense, that topic which was not spoken about hung thick. If only their home town hadn't been so small and his father.....well.

"I am sorry Gabe, I shouldn't have said that." She unwrapped the other half of her turkey and rye sandwich, handing it to him. It was only a couple of hours and then they would be home. Abby could tell they were getting close by how dense the woods on either side of the road were. Many times they had been out in these woods hunting with Gabe's dad and two uncles.

"Can you pass me a soda? That turkey was a little dry." Gabe asked. Abby nodded before reaching down near her feet. She grabbed the warm soda from the bag and passed it over to him.

The road was clear of other traffic; the sun was finally high enough in the sky that it began to warm up the inside of the car. Abby was happy; Gabe was never one to hold onto his emotions for long.

"Aren't you sick of it yet?" he asked breaking the happy silence.

"Sick of what?" Abby asked confused.

"Sick of playing my girlfriend. Every time we go home it is the same thing; our mother's talk of a wedding and babies, while my dad asks when we are planning to move back home. You know he wants us to buy a house on the same street as them? God! It makes me feel sick even thinking about it." Gabe paused; he turned to Abby, sighed then turned back. "Sometimes I think it would be easier to marry you and have the two point five kids and the house but then I remember, I like boys." He laughed uneasily, as if it were meant to be a joke only Abby knew him better than that. She was certain that the thought had crossed his mind more than once.

Abby stared at him; she didn't know how to reply. What can you say when your gay best friend tells you that he has thought of marrying you just so he doesn't have to deal with his father or disappoint his mother. She knew it was eating away at him inside, each time they came home the pressure on him grew a little more. Their parents had been planning their marriage ever since Abby decided to help Gabe hide the fact that he liked other boys; that had been six years ago. There was only a one-year difference between them, Gabe being the older one of course. Abby and her mother had moved to the small town when she was six. Her mother rented a house from Gabe's family, they really helped her out. Abby's dad had been out of the scene for a while and Gabe's dad was happy to fill in as a part time replacement when needed. It was as if fate had meant for them to help one another out, but marriage? "Shit" Gabe cursed staring at her. "Tell me you're not actually considering marrying me?"

"No" she lied "of course not." Her words come out too fast and her cheeks grew red with embarrassment. He laughed, tuning back to the road.

"You would do it for me, wouldn't you? I mean the whole fake marriage and stuff."

Abby didn't know what to say; the thought of marrying Gabe wasn't the worst thing that she could imagine. Abby didn't like to date, she liked boys just fine but her dating life had suffered after her first college boyfriend. He had hurt her, almost destroying her very essence before moving on. No one knew what he had done to her, she had blocked out those three months that she had suffered at his hands. Even just the thought of it brought tears to her eyes. She fought hard to hold them back, to control the raw emotion that lay hidden for so long. All she could manage in reply was a shrug. Words would give too much away and Gabe was already dealing with a large amount of his own emotional conflict as it was.

"Awe Abby, while the offer is touching, I am sorry to say but you just aren't my type." He smiled teasingly "I mean how could I marry someone who defends such putrid fashion choices; really I do have some standards." They laughed together, Abby's pain fading into the background where it belonged.

"Since we are talking about marriage though, what male movie stars would you kiss, kill and marry."

Abby groaned happily "What, are we back in junior grade or something?"

"Fine, I will go first then." Gabe stated. "I would kiss that really hot guy" He looked at Abby expecting her to come up with the name; instead she looked at him blankly. "You know. Off that show we watch...argh forget it, I would kill..."

Gabe didn't get to finish, he hit the brakes hard but it was too late; there was a loud thud as the truck ran over whomever they had hit. Abby looked at Gabe as they came to a stop, both of them just sitting there staring. Abby thought it was a miracle that they were both without a scratch.

"We just ran over someone." Gabe babbled, his voice shaking as much as his body. Abby nodded still unable to speak.

"We" Gabe paused looking at her "Just ran over a person, Abby." There was a hint of panic in his tone. "A real person!"

Abby continued to stare at him as the words soaked in. He was right; they had hit a real person. She could remember how they were talking, mucking around and then there was a flash of dark hair and a naked torso. Abby felt her stomach jump into the back of her throat making it burn. She wanted to be sick, to throw up but she wouldn't...not yet anyway.

"Oh my god, do you think we killed him?" Abby asked as she opened the door. "Where did he come from?"

"I don't know." Gabe said following her lead. They both walked around to the back, hesitating, neither of them really wanted to see a dead person laying there. Abby was first to take those last few steps; she held her breath, readying herself for the worst. Nothing. Not a person, not an animal. Hell, not even 'long dead' road-kill lay there. Gabe moved toward her as if he needed to see what was there for himself.

"I thought he would be dead." Abby said shocked. "I mean, you totally nailed him with the pick-up...right?"

"Yeah...I got the dent in the front to prove it - just not a dead body on the ground." Gabe declared scratching his head confused. "Were in God's name could he have gone?"

"I don't know. Are you sure it was a man?" Abby looked at the empty stretch of road behind them. She was positive that they had run over a guy too but now there was nothing, only a dent in the front and a smashed windscreen.

"Seriously Abby, it is mid-morning and the sky is clear, we both saw him hit the truck and I don't think deer wear leather pants...at least not in this weather." Gabe jested half-heartedly; she could tell he was having trouble processing this too.

"Yeah, I know." She looked around for any sign of where a body might be "I just don't know how he is not a broken, bloodied mess behind your pick-up."

"Christ, this is like right out of some pathetic b-grade horror film; you know where he is going to leap out of the woods and hack us into little pieces as revenge for killing him or something." Gabe groaned. "Haven't you heard the urban legend about the demon who finds victims by luring them into the forest so he can recruit them for the devil's work?"

Abby shot him a perplexed look. "Huh?"

"If some crazy psycho, hell-bent on turning me into a devil's minion, doesn't get me then I have no doubt my dad will." he answered. "This was a brand new truck and now it is a write-off. I am just lucky that nothing happened to you."

She stared at him for a little longer wondering if and how she should reply to that. He was right; when his dad saw all the damage done to his truck he would take his anger out on Gabe. There was no body - nothing to verify their story - which would make things worse. Abby sighed bending down to see if the liquid on the ground was blood. She carefully dipped her fingers into it; they came out rich red as she studied the liquid a little more, and rubbed it between her fingers. The blood was still warm and smelt vaguely metallic. She had the oddest urge to taste it. Quickly, though, she wiped the blood onto her jeans instead. Gabe gasped in disgust.

"Those are designer jeans, don't ruin them." He said as he walked away. Abby looked back down where the small pool of blood lay.

"Well something is injured, the blood was still warm when I touched it." she turned, looking for Gabe who was now contemplating the damage to his front end. "We need to go and find him, make sure he is ok."

"You're crazy right? This guy got hit by my truck doing fifty and by the time we were collected enough to jump out he was gone. I mean, really...do you want to become some freaks play thing?"

Gabe shook his head as Abby shrugged her delicate shoulders in reply. She didn't want to fight with Gabe on this. How could she explain that she couldn't leave not knowing if they could have helped? Images of some poor man slowly bleeding to death, scared and alone, haunted her.

"Seriously, we are not going to offer ourselves up to be sliced-and-diced just because you have a guilty conscience." Gabe threw his arms up frustrated.

"So what, we just leave him alone...out there...hurt?" That wasn't who she was.

He walked away. "Abby, get over it."

It was a harsh thing to say but it was needed. There was no way in hell he was about to enter the woods to find some indestructible crazy person. No man that can walk away from that should be searched for. Gabe looked over at the large dent that had cracked the radiator among other things; the guy should have at least broken a hell of a lot of bones.

"My cell phone isn't working, is yours?" Abby asked still frustrated by everything. Gabe reached into his khaki pants pocket and pulled out his cell. There was no service; he shook his head before popping the bonnet.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"I don't know how far it will get us but we should be able to drive it at least a little further."

"I can't leave without knowing that there isn't someone injured just inside of those woods Gabe."

Abby grabbed the bag out of the back and a gun out of the toolbox. She passed over the rifles they used for hunting, opting for a classic Smith & Wesson .357 magnum. She wasn't sure if she could fire it correctly but she was sure that if she ran into trouble it would certainly help her to do some major damage first. Gabe watched her amused; she always was the bleeding heart kind of girl and it was one of the things he loved most about her. Even though he knew she was going to search, Gabe had no intention of following her. The one thing Gabe was great at was self-preservation and walking into those woods — even with a gun — was just stupid. Abby followed the tiny droplets of blood to the edge of the woods before looking back at were Gabe sat.

"So, are you coming with me?" Abby looked at him, her sky blue eyes pleading with him to come. She really didn't want to walk in the woods alone. She wasn't really scared of the man; it was the fear of the unknown that was pushing her to enter the woods. Gabe leaned on the back of his pick-up and ate a piece of candy while shaking his head.

"If you want to end up on some FBI victim list...well, just go ahead, but I am staying with my truck until either help arrives or you come to your senses."

"You owe me, you know that?" Gabe shrugged trying to ignore what he knew was true. He owed her for a lot of things but that didn't change how he felt.

"Look we will just go a little way in and if we don't see any trace we'll leave it." She tried.

"Jeez Abby, this doesn't feel right. Surely you are not that blonde... you have to know this isn't right. Even the terminator would have had a little trouble getting up straight away from this."

Abby hissed something low and rather abusive, he assumed, as she started to head toward the entrance of the woods. The trees were tall, dark and thick with foliage. She glanced one more time behind her, pleading for Gabe to come with. He was watching; waiting for her to admit that it was crazy to head into the woods all alone. Gabe unwrapped another piece of candy and shoved it into his mouth; he was nervous and conflicted about letting her go in there all by herself. She swallowed back the lump that was in her throat. She could do this...right?

2

Cautiously she placed her foot onto the debris, listening to the crunch as it gave way to her weight. It felt as if she were crossing some invisible line. After that it seemed easier to move further forward. Abby looked meticulously down to make sure she stayed on the right blood trail. All those times she had been on hunting trips where she watched the men track their prey came back to her. She took off her green sweater, tearing some stripes off the bottom of it so that she could mark the track. The last thing Abby wanted was to become lost somewhere deep in these woods. The road was becoming harder to see so she carefully tied a little strip of her sweater onto a branch of one of the saplings. She bent down to make sure the blood she was following was fresh; it would be a waste to find out that she was doing this for an injured raccoon. The blood was still in liquid from, that was a good sign...kind of, she thought. There wasn't a great amount to follow so Abby made sure keep an eye on which direction it was taking her. As she moved the trees grew dense, whatever had left the blood trail was leading her deeper into the woods. There was still enough light and warmth for her to keep going; it was further in than she had hoped but the idea of turning around was worse.

Another strip of her sweater was being tied to another branch when she heard her name being called. Somehow it felt as if the words were echoing in her head, that was, until Gabe ran right into her almost knocking her to the ground.

"What the?" she screamed half panicked "I thought you weren't coming!"

"Yeah, well, I thought about going to find some help but the truck didn't even start." he panted out of breathe.

"Well thanks for not leaving me," her tone oozing sarcasm "but why didn't you just lock yourself in until I returned?"

Gabe didn't look at her, instead his head slumped down and he shrugged his shoulders. She knew he was too ashamed to admit that he was too scared to stay in the truck by himself. Abby laughed out loud, she couldn't help it. Gabe was a six-foot-two college wrestling champion whose dad was the town sheriff and had taught his son from a very young age how to look after himself. There were only two things Gabe was scared of: the first was his dad and the other his family finding out he was gay; both were completely understandable.

"What's so funny?" Gabe snapped.

"You were too scared to stay there all by yourself... weren't you?" Abby teased.

"For your information I wasn't scared, I just didn't think it was wise for you to go on this one-woman search party all alone. I mean safety in numbers right?"

"So that's it is it?"

"No."

"What would make it better then?" she asked getting frustrated. Gabe was normally the easy-going adventurous one, not her.

"Turning around and waiting until help arrives would make it better!" Gabe yelled. Abby's mouth fell open; what was with him today? Was returning home eating away at him this much?

"What's wrong Gabe?"

"I am worried about you...about us honestly. I mean, doesn't this all feel a little odd?"

Abby sighed heavily "Gabe" she groaned.

"Think about Abby; we are following someone who should, by-all-rights, be dead deep into the woods. We are probably so far in now that if something were to happen no one would know for days...hell maybe even weeks." Gabe grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Jeez, you can be a real drama queen sometimes Gabe." She looked around; they could no longer see the road nor did she have any clue how far they had walked. Nothing looked familiar and Abby realized she hadn't spotted the blood trail since Gabe arrived, distracting her.

"We need to back-step; I have lost the blood trail I was following." Abby said trying to sound calm. Suddenly everything about this situation was terrifying. She ripped another strip from the rag and tied it to another branch, then turned around and counted her steps. There was nothing. She was sure she had left a marker every thirty steps. She counted another ten; still nothing. Surely she hadn't walked more than forty paces. If they walked another twenty and still didn't find anything then it would be time to panic. Abby felt her heart begin to race; they had walked thirty more steps without finding any trace that they had ever been here before. Thoughts of what to do next filled her mind; she had gotten them into this and now she had to get them out.

"Shit." Abby hissed angrily. "We need to head back to the last marker and then try to find the others from there." She looked at Gabe "I need a piece of your shirt."

"My shirt?" he exclaimed. "Why do you want my shirt?"

"Because it is a different color and will help us mark this path so we know this is the wrong one."

"Can't you ruin something ugly of yours? I mean this is one of my favorite shirts." he answered with a sulking tone.

"Please, Gabe." Abby pleaded "If it makes you feel better, I have already started using the green sweater you were complaining about."

Gabe took off his shirt and tore a rough stripe from it before putting it back on. "There!"

They carefully counted seventy paces, heading back the way they had just come. Abby was careful to leave a bigger marker this time when they reached thirty paces. The piece of cloth hung from the limb looking rather like a flag. From now on, Abby thought, she was going to have to leave bigger markers. Finally they reached the place they thought they had started from. They looked around but nothing was there; no marker, no disturbed ground, just nothing. Gabe and Abby looked at one another, this was getting creepy...very friggin' creepy.

"This should be the place." She looked around again but nothing was familiar to her. "I counted it out exactly, and we walked in a straight line."

"I told you, this is some sicko's idea of fun before he finally hacks us to death." Gabe yelled as he paced back and forth.

"Calm down, we must have gotten off-course somehow. Maybe I miscounted or something."

"Calm down? We are lost in the woods!" He yelled, frustrated and scared. "Abby we're looking for some guy who can survive being hit by a truck and who also likes to wear leather in the summer. If that doesn't scream 'crazy' to you then I don't know what would!"

Abby felt the tears welling in her eyes. Gabe had yelled at her and he was right, this was crazy. What was she thinking? Why did she always have to be the one who does the right thing? Gabe was watching her; he looked sad.

"Don't cry. If there is some crazy guy out there, just remember that in the movies the guy always dies before the beautiful girl." She started to tell him that was not funny but he continued. "He was wearing leather so maybe I can seduce him before he kills me, which should give you plenty of time to get away. On the plus-side, I get to die happy." He laughed trying to lighten the mood. Abby wanted to slap him for being stupid but instead she found herself laughing also.

"That's better." he kissed her cheek. "I still think we should try to find our way back to the truck, it shouldn't be that hard. Besides, after all the hunting trips we used to go on we should be nature experts."

"Fine, let's head that way." she pointed. "Maybe if we go far enough we will either hit the road or climb high enough to get a signal for our phones."

"Ok, but just so you know this is how most b-grade horror films start out. You know, lulling the prey into a false sense of hope before they pull out the chainsaw or giant butcher's meat hook." Gabe teased as they began walking.

"You watch way too many movies." Abby said, rolling her eyes. She was beginning to feel better though.

"False sense of hope...where do you come up with this stuff?"

"It means they are allowing us to believe we have a chance to get out when they know we are only putting off the inevitable." He used his best professor know-it-all voice before poking out his tongue at her.

"Well thank you very much for the English lesson, now if you don't mind I would like to get out of here before it gets dark." She said sarcastically before walking ahead of him.

"Well you're no fun." He sulked, tagging along behind her.

They walked in silence without a sound to be heard; the birds didn't sing and there was no wind to rustle the leaves. The further they went the darker it became as the sun was lost to canopy above. Abby had thought about turning around but her frustration at Gabe's little quips made her too stubborn to do it. Deep down she knew they were lost. They had to either wait for help or continue; maybe a change of direction would help. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating her next course of action.

"Ok this feels eerily like a path that leads us to our death." Gabe's voice broke her train of thought "And like stupid little rabbits we are happily following it until finally we end up trapped, squealing for our lives." Gabe stopped, checking his phone again; still no signal. He groaned frustrated before shoving it back into his pocket.

"You're forgetting that I still have the gun" Abby said, suddenly happy to be carrying it. "So if any big, bad thing comes along we will have a fighting chance and if we are lost we should be able to use it to either kill food or to signal rescuers."

Gabe laughed at her. "Do you even know how to use it?"

"Yes, you point and shoot. I am not completely naïve you know...and your father taught me a thing or two as well."

"Yeah with a little nine-millimeter that even my granny could use, not a great big dirty revolver."

"Yeah, so what?" Abby said trying to swallow the lump in the back of her throat "It is like, all the same right? You point at the target and you shoot. It ain't rocket science you know." Abby sat digging in the bag for something to snack on. She wasn't sure if food would help her or if it would just end up as a pile of regurgitated mush on the ground. She had to do something though, the lump in her throat wasn't going away and they had limited water, so Gabe's protein bar it was then. She snapped the bar in two and tossed the other half to Gabe.

"Well then miss know-it-all-must-save-every-freaky-person, why don't you give it a go then?" he snickered, daring her to prove him right once again. He was so smug, confident that she wouldn't be able to do it. The truth was she wasn't sure if she could either. Even when shooting the 9mm her grouping wasn't very good. Every time she would fire her hands would jerk, sending the bullet off-course. A revolver packed more punch and she didn't want to do something stupid just for the sake of her pride.

"And waste the bullets?" Abby shot back at him. "I think that would be really, really unwise." Gabe laughed almost spitting out little chucks of half-eaten protein bar. His laughter echoed through the woods, making the place feel eerie. It sent a chill down Abby's back. The only good thing to focus on was the fact that it was still daylight.

"This place is freaky." He said looking around "It is too quiet...it feels as though things are watching us, waiting for us to make a mistake so they can fight over the remains."

"Gabe!" Abby groaned annoyed. Sympathy was not something she was willing to give to him right now.

"This is one-hundred percent your fault" Gabe declared as if she didn't already know that.

"Come on, we need to keep moving."

"Can't we rest for just a few minutes? It's not like we're lost or anything." Gabe said sarcastically. Abby rolled her eyes as she placed the backpack down again. Gabe was slumped against a tree, his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. Abby sighed, 'so much for him being all terrified of the boogeyman' she thought. Abby sat there, listening to the soft noises that Gabe made. For once there was not a single thing on her mind. She felt relaxed even though she should have been feeling terrified. Abby closed her eyes 'only for minute' she thought. Her body did need to rest, she justified, after all - she was tired from walking.

3

"God Abby, get up now!" A voice yelled at her. She opened her eyes to see Gabe standing over her looking seriously pissed off. Abby rubbed her sore eyes and looked around, it was almost dark. How long had they been asleep?

"What did you think you were doing?" he demanded. "It is almost dark; we have - at best - two hours of light left to make it out of here."

"I only wanted to rest my eyes Gabe, really it felt like only for a few minutes." she declared, still feeling groggy from waking up in such a rush.

Abby looked around; which way had they come from? Nothing seemed familiar anymore. They were now worse off them when they had started. This was not good.

"Gabe which way did we come from?" she asked as he turned to face her. Something was not right; the fine little hairs all over Abby's body stood on end. Gabe was grinning; not in the friendly, joking way but in a way that made Abby want to back away from him. Gabe's eyes were cold and dark; even in this light she knew this was not a normal look for him.

"Follow me Abby, I will get us out." He declared confidently. 'Where was scared, drama-queen Gabe?' Abby thought as she reached for her backpack. It felt so light. Her hand went inside to see what was missing; she knew instantly what it was. Her eyes glanced up to see Gabe standing there casually holding her gun, acting as if nothing was wrong.

"Looking for something?" he taunted.

"Why did you take the gun?" she asked cautiously as she took a step back, sub-consciously trying to distance herself from him.

"I figured it would be better if I had it. Why? Do you think I would shoot you with it?"

Gabe drew the gun from his waistband and pointed it at her. "Do you think I would have woken you up if I was going to shoot you?" he growled as he moved closer to her. "Though we are all alone out here, so, if I did, it would take a long time for anyone to find your body."

Gabe was now only a few feet away from her, the gun still pointed firmly at her chest Abby's heart was beating hard against her ribs and the vile acidic taste of fear burned at the back of her throat. There was still a completely malevolent fixture to his once handsome face.

"Gabe I know you think this is funny but cut it out!" She cried. "You win...I am totally freaked out now."

He laughed, carelessly tossing her the gun. "Come on, it will be dark soon."

She caught the gun without it firing and a huge sigh of relief escaped from between her lips. She glared at him, her heart still hammering away inside her chest as she let the gun and bag drop to the ground. Walking over to a tree that was a little further away from Gabe she began to throw up what little she had in her stomach. Gabe gave her a few minutes before handing her the water bottle. She took only a little sip, conscious of the fact that it was the only water they had.

"You are such a jerk!" she yelled, frustrated. "Don't kid around like that. Someone could have gotten hurt."

Gabe laughed again, his arm slipping itself around her shoulder. "Did you truly think I would kill you?" he asked giving her a squeeze. She swallowed; the lump was still stuck in the back of her throat.

"No." she answered, unsure if it was true or not. He had always been a prankster but this had really pushed it as far as funny went. How could he joke when this situation was so bad?

"I am sorry." Gabe said sincerely "I didn't mean to scare you that badly...I just thought it would be funny to give you a bit of a fright."

"Forget about it." Abby snapped, trying to walk a safe distance behind Gabe.

Guiding her through the forest Gabe made sure to stay quiet. He could feel Abby's rage at having been scared emanating from her. With each step she stomped into the ground, leaving an imprint. If it hadn't been for the situation Gabe would have found it funny but it was getting dark. He was sure he knew the way to go, he had been cautious enough to remember certain landmarks like his father and uncles had taught him.

Abby still trailed behind suspiciously waiting for him to go crazy again. It was frustrating and funny. How ironic that it should be him to lead her now. He could feel the tip of his anger that burned deep within his belly. He hated the idea of going home and pretending to be the perfect couple and even though he knew it was not Abby 's fault, a piece of him hated her.

He wanted her to have had enough of the charade and call it off; it was his only way out. If it were her that called off this fake relationship then he would have a reason not to come home anymore. The idea of not having to hide was a tantalizing thought. Once he had finished high school he had thought that would be the end; that she would want to date but she didn't. Year after year he waited for her to break it off and each year ended in disappointment. Only once when Abby had started college did he have a glimpse at freedom but that was just a tease. Somehow it had all ended leaving Abby even more committed to this façade. He swallowed back his anger.

"What did you say?" Abby snapped at him, from out of nowhere. Gabe was positive that he hadn't said anything. In fact, he had been careful not to say anything incase his true feelings came out. There was one thing in this world that made Gabe feel completely helpless and that was watching Abby cry.

"I didn't say a thing." He replied defensively. Abby's pale grey eyes burned a hole into Gabe. He shrugged "I really didn't say anything."

"Well I heard something."

"Like a person or an animal?" Gabe probed.

"A person." She hissed placing her hands on her hips. "I am not so stupid that I would mistake an animal noise for a human."

"No need to snap my head off, I was just asking."

"Shhh" Abby said "didn't you just hear that?" Gabe listened carefully; had he heard something? The sound echoed softly once more. They turned, looking at one another. Her face asked silently if he had heard it that time. Gabe nodded, he had heard it. Something was behind them, speaking to them. Gabe felt his blood turn to ice, this wasn't meant to happen.

"Hello, who is out there?" He yelled into the trees, waiting for a response. No one replied to him. Abby looked at him, her eyes wide with fear as she started to unzip the bag. Gabe shook his head.

"If someone can hear us, come out and show yourself!" Gabe demanded again, waiting for a reply. He raised his head instinctively as a large bang echoing through the woods. Abby slumped against a tree, her head in her hands to stop the ringing in her ears.

"Abby!" he yelled.

Abby looked up at Gabe, taking in the way his mouth was slightly open as if he were about to say something. She then looked down at his chest but there wasn't much to be seen. A gaping hole had ripped through him, exposing his insides and spraying the ground with bits and pieces of him. She rushed over to him as fast as she could. Gently she cradled his head to her chest. He looked up at her, those blue eyes turning grey as his life slipped away.

"I am so sorry." Gabe mouthed, only a soft whisper of his voice saying the words. His eyes moved to look into her face before his body went limp in her arms.

Abby screamed, the sound echoing throughout the area and ringing in her ears. Desperately she tried to hold his chest together, to stop the blood that was pouring out and pooling on the soft ground. Deep down she knew he was dead; no one could have survived that kind of wound. Abby sat there clinging to her best friend. Blood covered nearly every inch of the both of them. She had forgotten about the danger; her only thought was that of her friend. What would she do without him?

"Poor little Abby lost her friend, now she is all alone. Let the games begin." A rich male voice sang out from the darkness. Abby looked up, her face stained with tears. Nothing was there; her body gave a shudder. She didn't want to be scared. She raced over to where she had left the bag. Opening it she tried to find the gun but all she pulled out were rocks. Nothing was left in the bag. She tried to choke back a scream that threatened to erupt.

"Run Abby, it will be more fun." The voice sang again, this time laughing at the end.

Abby steadied herself, Gabe's earlier words coming back to haunt her. There really was some sick psycho out to get them. Abby knew that she was as good as dead. He had the gun, he had killed Gabe, and now he had the advantage. Her fear was beginning to be replaced by rage. She was mad, so mad that she had been so stupid.

"Show yourself!" Abby yelled into the woods. "If you want me dead, well here I am you sick bastard!"

"Such profanity isn't nice to hear from such a pretty girl." The voice whispered into her ear as she felt the gun press into her back. "If you so much as move I will blast a hole in you so big that I will be able to stick my arm through it. Do you understand?"

"Go fuck yourself!" She sobbed angrily.

Abby trembled; she had no weapon to defend herself with and now the sicko was tormenting her. His hands grabbed her by the hair, forcing her against a tree. Suddenly she was afraid that it wasn't a taunt after all. Abby struggled as best she could. The stranger took hold of both her arms placing them behind her back before binding them together.

"You really are a feisty one." he grinned. "You really should behave. I don't really want to kill you - well - at least not right now."

"Just get it over with; I would prefer to die then to let you touch me." Abby declared. She was ready; if he wanted her dead she wouldn't run, wouldn't let him win. His free hand ran down the side of her neck. So delicate was his touch that Abby barely felt it. Her body responded with a quiver causing her capturer to chuckle.

"Are you sure you are really ready to give up so easily?" He asked, not with a joking tone, just serious and thoughtful. Abby nodded, she didn't know if she was really ready or not but what other choice did she have? She certainly wasn't going to allow him to use her body...not if she could help it.

"You would just lie down and die without a fight?" he questioned unhappily, his free hand sitting at the base of her throat gently stroking her collar bone with his thumb.

"If it would mean that you don't get the pleasure of hunting me then yes I would prefer to lie down and die." Her voice was steady, surprising her. Her captor sighed heavily with thought.

"If you are sure then maybe I will just kill you now." he murmured bringing his head closer so that it lay next to her ear. His warm breathe hit the tender skin of her neck, sending a shiver of terror through her. She closed her eyes, unsure what was going to happen now. A piece of cloth wrapped around her eyes before being tied tightly. After blindfolding her he forced her to sit down on the leaf littered ground. Abby couldn't help the tears, she wasn't really ready but she had no other choice. Her death was only a matter of time. Never had she imagined that her fate was to end up dead in the woods, killed by some crazy person.

Pushing away all of her fears she begged. "Please, just shoot me."

She felt the cold hard metal of the gun press into the side of her head. "As you wish." The captor spoke quietly. Abby held onto her breath and waited for death to come.

"Oh God, and she thought I was dramatic?" Gabe's voice broke the silent tension and made Abby want to pass out from shock. Either she was dead, or something was seriously wrong. Two hands yanked Abby up onto her feet.

"Troian, stop playing with her already. I need you to feed me, considering you shot me!" Gabe demanded.

"Gabe!" she yelled. Was she going crazy? "You are dead...s-s-shot...d-d-dead." she stuttered helplessly. A part of her wished she could see. Abby needed to know if it was really true. Was Gabe alive? Once she knew that then she could get angry with him. Clearly he was playing another practical joke on her. This one though, was even less funny than the last one.

"Oh honey I was dead long before Troian shot me." He laughed. "And very soon it will be your turn to die."

"What do you mean Gabe?" Abby cried out as they began to walk. "This really isn't funny."

They both ignored her, instead they walked. There was a hand on either side of Abby's arms helping to guide her. She had lost all sense of direction. Thoughts of what might be happening plagued her. After a little while the walking began to slow and Abby heard the distinct sound of a wooden door being open. Part of her felt relieved, they had brought her to a house or something like that.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"There are things you need to know and things you don't. Right now it is time to feed...so be a good girl and shut the hell up." Gabe exclaimed walking away from her as she heard the other guy laugh. She had never heard Gabe speak to her like that before. She was so confused and her head was pounding away inside her skull. It looked like no one was going to give her answers. The blindfold was removed and she stared, speechless, at Gabe. It was one thing to hear him and know that he was alive and another to actually see him standing there in front of her.

Gabe kneeled, peering up at Troian who offered Gabe his wrist. Troian watched disgustedly as Gabe licked his lips before sinking his teeth into the flesh. Abby's horror at witnessing Gabe's chest wound knit itself back together caused her to cry out. Gabe raised his lips, which were now stained bright crimson, and laughed. It had taken only minutes for him to be completely back to normal, only his clothing showed any sign of what had happened. Abby sat there, stunned in the corner. She pinched herself over and over again hoping to wake up, praying that this was really a dream. People did not heal from wounds that killed them. The shock was too much for her mind to process and she felt her grasp on reality slipping just as darkness engulfed her.

4

Troian was in another room of the small hunter's cabin while Gabe sat at the table playing cards. He didn't offer to help untie her and it confused her.

"Gabe what have you been doing?" She sobbed, her arms aching. She had given up on the idea that this was a dream she could awake from. Gabe looked down on her with disgust and her stomach twisted inside of her.

"You really are pathetic, sitting there like that." He hissed. "If we didn't needed you for the sacrifice I would kill you myself to put you out of your misery."

The words hit Abby like a bucket full of ice. Hot tears welled in the backs of her eyes. She loved Gabe like a brother.

"But, as fate should have it, I need you alive for now." He scoffed.

"Why?" she whimpered. "Why me Gabe? What did I do?"

"You!" he yelled, his fist hitting the table. "You wouldn't go away. Your mother is a whore and you and that bitch are the reason my father hates me." He spat at her.

"W-w-what?" she stuttered choking on her own words.

"You're whore of a mother is sleeping with my father." He spat. "She has been for years and I was unlucky enough to catch them. Ever since then I have been my father's enemy, while you became the key to your mother's heart. It makes me sick."

"I'm so sorry."

"No you're not, but you will be."

Troian walked in carrying a large red leather bound book. He dropped it onto the table with a thud before studying them both. His dark eyes narrowing in on Abby; he looked angry.

"What did you do to her?" Troian asked glaring at Gabe.

"Nothing" Gabe replied defensively, his fist clenching at his side.

"Doesn't look like nothing to me."

"All I did was tell her some home truths, nothing more." Gabe sat back down in his seat, looking away from where Abby was huddled. Troian walked over to her, gently taking her arm and helping her to her feet. His fingers danced along her arm to where her hands were bound behind her and undid the cloth.

"Gabe can you pass me a glass of water?" Troian asked. "We don't want to be inhospitable hosts to our guest."

Gabe glared at them both. Stomping his feet he grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured some water into it before passing it to Troian. Abby watched as Troian leaned down and kissed Gabe on the mouth. His jet black hair fell down to cover one side of his face. His hands still firmly held her by the wrist so that she couldn't get away. Once the kiss had ended he passed the glass to Abby who drank it down quickly. Gabe smiled, so big and bright that Abby wondered just how good of an actor Gabe truly was. He looked so delighted with himself as he danced his way back across the room. Had she ever really known him?

Gabe began laying out the items from a bag that he had brought in. A large combat knife, salt and some other things were placed on the table. Gabe took out some chalk and began to draw a circle on the floor of the cabin. Troian stared down at her; those midnight eyes piercing through her.

Trojan's hand cupped the side of her face. "Don't be afraid." his voice was but a whisper inside her mind. Abby was scared. No, more than that, she was terrified. She didn't want to be like them. The fine hairs on her arms prickled up. Troian grabbed the salt and began to draw something on the ground; it was a series of shapes and symbols. Standing in the middle he chanted, the words making no sense to Abby. Gabe walked over and sat down beside her.

"Please." she begged. "Gabe...please don't do this."

"This is really a great honor, you should feel lucky."

"You're about to kill me, how does that make me lucky?" Abby asked drawing on all of her energy to not sound afraid. She knew her body was shaking and her hands trembled but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how scared she was. Gabe seemed happier. Abby wasn't sure if that was due to the kiss he shared with Troian or because it was getting closer to her death. Gabe tucked a piece of hair back behind her ear.

"Because tonight you are going to make one gorgeous sacrifice." He answered. "Soon our family will know we are missing, they will see the truck and find this cabin. When they do it will have your butchered body and then my blood will lead them to where I was shot and they will think that I am dead too. I will finally be free from all of you to live my life." He chuckled, clearly far too ecstatic with his own thoughts.

Abby wanted to laugh, she knew it wasn't funny but the thought of her murderer afraid of his family was...well just amusing. The very thought that he wanted out of his life so much that he would kill the only person who had supported him seemed ironic. He wanted to live his life yet he was dead, or undead. She began to laugh, unable to control herself. This was just so crazy, so ironic that her laughter spilled from her.

"What's so funny?" Gabe asked annoyed.

"You." She managed to say between fits of laughter. "You want to live your life but you're dead or, well, not alive anyway." She continued.

The temperature within her body began to rise. The shock over the day must have been setting in; it would certainly explain her behavior. Could shock cause her to go crazy? She wondered. Abby didn't know but right now her insides felt as if they were on fire and all she could do was laugh. Troian glanced at them both curiously. He didn't break the circle though as he continued to chant. The fire within her raged until she feared she might actually burst into flames.

"Gabe I need water!" she cried out, her body shaking from the inferno inside. She was losing control. The way her muscles twitched as if she was convulsing frightened her. Gabe placed the water bottle to her lips so she could drink. The fire within didn't die down, instead it increased. Gabe shot Troian a fearful look as he watched Abby's body shake uncontrollably before his very eyes.

"Troian you better get over here...I need help." He said looking down at her. "We can't let her die before the ritual."

"The gates of hell are open, I cannot leave the circle." Troian looked at the girl as she lay there convulsing. "Bring her to the circle and we will begin."

Gabe struggled to pick Abby up as her body shook uncontrollably in his arms. Finally he was able to lay her down at the circle's edge.

"Abby, honey I need you to get up and walk into the circle." Troian's voice echoed in her head. Her body's temperature began to lower and the shaking settled. Willing her legs to move she stood up and entered the circle. Troian's arms wrapped around her small frame as he gently laid her down onto the ground and began to chant unfamiliar words. Her body stopped moving altogether, her eyes open as she lay there just staring up at him. For a brief second Troian questioned whether being a devil's disciple was worth what he was about to do next. Quickly he dismissed the thought as he picked up the knife and began to cut the symbol into the tender flesh of her stomach. The symbol had almost been done once before by a wannabe follower. Troian shuddered at what that butcher had done to her, careful to make his work as painless as possible.

Abby screamed as the knife cut into her already scarred skin; she knew it wouldn't kill her...but God it hurt. Troian's dark eyes held the tiniest hint of remorse as he glanced briefly at her. Warm liquid trickled down her side and onto the wooden floor. Troian leaned down, his face hovering above the wound, his hot breath tickling her skin. His hot, moist tongue ran across her skin and over the cut, lapping up the warm blood. Everything inside of her felt awake, like someone had suddenly switched on a light. She saw Troian, really saw him not as the monster he was but as the incredible creature he could be. He was not like any other man she had ever known. His body was lean but well-toned, his face angular in a way that was unlike Gabe's. She wanted to run her hands through his hair and pull his mouth to hers.

Abby had the strangest urge to taste her blood that was upon his lips. Her arms reached out to Troian, wrapping around his neck and drawing him closer. Her lips pressed hard against his and her tongue was strangely forceful as it entered his mouth. An inferno of passion passed between them so intense that it felt as if something was holding them together. Words forced themselves into her mind; she knew what she must do to live.

"Abby you know what must happen now." Troian spoke. Abby wasn't sure if he had said it out loud or not.

He let go of her and stood up. She grabbed the knife that still lay on the ground. Turning, she could see a bewildered Gabe standing just out the circle. She fought the urge to laugh at the irony of what was going to happen. She remembered all those words Gabe had spoken since she had arrived in this hell-hole. He had been playing her all along like only a good actor could. The dedication he must have had to pull everything off for so long was amazing. Yet, right now she did not regret anything that she was about to do. Carefully she broke the circle, nothing harmed her, and she knew that she was untouchable now. A sadistic little smirk formed on her almost prefect face. Gabe's mouth was open with shock; no one was meant to break the circle. Abby felt energy surge throughout her veins.

"Kiss me." she ordered Gabe. Her mouth enclosed around his as she kissed him. The molten lava heat passed between them as she felt his protection drain from his body. No longer was he safe from that which should naturally kill him. Pulling away from him Abby laughed; the prey became the predator...how ironic. The knife plunged deeply into Gabe's neck almost severing it. He dropped to the ground as Abby pulled out the knife; there was no coming back for him this time. She leaned down and wiped the blade clean with his precious shirt.

"I was never going to be the sacrifice was I?" she asked Troian already sure of the answer.

"No, it was always going to be him." Troian answered as he closed the ritual circle.

"Why?"

"He wanted badly to change his fate so I changed it for him." He paused. "Maybe he should have thought twice before making a deal with the devil." He chuckled.

"What was his deal?" Abby asked curiously.

"He would sacrifice you to the devil so that he may stay forever young and never have to deal with his family."

Abby gasped, Gabe had gotten everything he had wanted just not the way he wanted it. Her stomach twisted into itself as she took another look at the body that lay on the floor. He had destroyed both of their lives. She knew that she would never be allowed to go home. As far as her family and friends were concerned, both she and Gabe were dead. Tears stained her cheek; this was not fair. Troian's hand clasped the top of her shoulder as he turned her toward him. Quickly she wiped away the tears.

"You know what you have done to me, right?" Abby demanded. Troian nodded.

"I am chosen; you have marked me as the devils concubine and now only he can destroy me." She laughed. Troian's dark eyes widened with amusement and fear; a look which didn't go unnoticed by Abby.

"So, I take it that you already knew," she paused, looking at him carefully. "That you are to act as his vessel until he calls me to hell."

Troian nodded again. For her survival it had been worth his bargain. Yes he would lose her once his master called her down to hell but hopefully that would not happen for a long time. Until then it was his duty to act in place of his master here on Earth and she would be with him. For now that and trying to get her to love him were the only two things that mattered. One day soon he would have to explain everything but for now he needed a shower. Troian sighed; but first, he had to get rid of Gabe's body.

About Rebecca Nolan

My life is one of a dream, so I guess in that sense, it is understandable as to why I have such a vivid imagination. I love to escape reality by jumping into a story, I love writing stories in horror, paranormal and romance genres. I have three short stories published, A twist of Fate in the anthology; 13 tales of the Paranormal, An Army Christmas in the anthology; A Home for the holidays and Say My Name in the anthology Of Leather and Lace.

All published by Firefly and Wisp Publishing company, which will also be publishing my first novel Death Lilli.

Links

<https://www.facebook.com/RnolanAuthor>

<http://wordsaccordingtome.blogspot.com.au/>

**The Little Death**

By B. C. Sirrom

Introduction

I was born in rural West Virginia. I won't bother telling you where; there weren't any towns close by. The name won't mean anything to you, and you'll have to pretend you know where it is. There is not much there; I got out as soon as possible. Maybe I should have stayed. Maybe it happened because I left. It's too late to go back now.

I'm sorry. I'm rambling.

My name is Jon Elvis Walker.

I am going to be completely honest. You deserve that, at least, even if you don't deserve what will happen after.

My Eighteenth Birthday

"Does everything look 'normal', doc?"

"Yes."

"You didn't see anything...anything weird in my blood work?"

"Did you expect me to?"

I gave a weak laugh, "Nah, not really." I didn't tell the army doctor about my fears or about the college professor who studied my family. The professor called us 'Melungeons'; we call ourselves 'American'. He was doing research and found us, to use his word, fascinating. Yes, I looked different from the boys I went to school with. They treated me like an outsider, even though my family lived in the county just as long as theirs. Longer, depending on who you asked. I didn't tell the doctor any of this. I didn't want to endanger my enlistment.

The doctor mistook my silence for uncertainty. "You sure you want to do this, son? They stopped the draft, you know."

"Sure. I mean, 'Yes, Sir'. I want this." I wanted this more than the old veteran could imagine. I knew lots of guys who joined up. They wanted money for school or just didn't know what else to do. A few had higher ideals, like patriotism. I was joining to blend in, to be anonymous. Neither popular nor overtly talented in any way, I did well enough in school. I did extremely well considering I had no place to study in a house full of dirty, crying babies. But, I am no scholar. I only wanted out and didn't care how.

I don't look like the recruits they show on the posters. The politically correct demographic slice of Americana: one white guy, one black guy and one woman, ethnicity may vary. My features are strikingly European with thin lips and straight narrow nose. But, my hair is reminiscent of a Native American's. It's severely straight and unrelenting black. I've heard people call me 'olive-skinned'. I think I just look tan...year-round. Then there are my eyes. My mother called them bedroom eyes, but she was talking about my father. Ghost gray and heavy-lidded, I always look just a little bit sleepy. Individually, my characteristics are ordinarily unremarkable. As a composition, I am a foreigner in my own country. Foreign, but I'm not alone.

My entire family looks like me, or rather me like them. The men are all but identical. My father, uncles, and brothers all share the same bizarre likeness. My mother was fair with freckles and strawberry blonde hair. Her genes must have been erased by my father's prolific ones. I was the first son by my father's second wife. He is on number three now. She is pretty and young. Despite being twenty years my father's junior, she is fading as my mother did. Consecutive pregnancies, rearing a herd of children and menial jobs are wearing her. Soon, she will look like father's contemporary.

My father. For all his faults, he is a handsome devil. Lazy. Witty. Affectionate. That is my father. When he desires, I have seen him charm the cruelest old battleaxe into a simpering school girl with little more than a wink. My elder brothers are the same. All able to charm their way with women, and each had a child before they gave up on high school. They were content with their predictable lot in life. I wasn't. I avoided contact with girls. I like girls. I like girls a whole lot. They are beautiful and mysterious. However, my family's proven fertility kept me in check. I wouldn't risk an unexpected pregnancy.

The doctor finally finished his exam and made notes on the paperwork. I glanced over, trying to read his writing upside-down. I had left the box by ethnicity unchecked on my form. I couldn't decipher his comments, but he took the liberty of marking 'other' for my cultural background.

Yeah, that's me...Other.

Three Years Later

I wrote home a lot during my first deployment. I described the United States' noble mission to right a third world country's woes. I guess I was trying to brag. I told them about the places I had been, people I had seen, and possibly exaggerated the things I was doing. They didn't write back.

My brother handed me a letter on my first visit on leave with a "We never got to the post office." The letter was hardly half finished, but I pocketed it anyway. I read it often while on base. It wasn't for the content but as a reminder. I didn't want that life.

"Love letter from a girl?" J. Nelson teased. The 'J' stood for 'Jennifer' but she preferred 'Nelson'. I was the only one allowed to call her 'Jay'.

"My brother." She already knew that, but this was like a game we played. She was the only person I considered a friend.

"Ewwww...I knew you hillbillies married your cousins, but your brother!"

"Ha-ha." I offered the expected forced laugh.

"Anything new?" She asked seriously.

"Not since the last time I read it."

"Why do you keep reading it then?"

"Something to do. Besides, even if they did write it again, would say the same things."

"Sounds like an exciting place." Jay boldly snatched my letter. I never let her read my letter before. As she scanned the messy handwriting her playful expression went blank. She carefully re-folded the worn page and tucked it into my shirt pocket. "Sorry."

"Wasn't what you expected?" I asked.

"No. It's pretty messed up actually." Jay wouldn't look at me.

I laughed. It was a cruel sound. "Yes. Yes it is." I recounted the high points of the letter. "All the kids have lice. Sixteen-year-old brother is a father of two. Stepmom is preggo with number four. But, it's nice when uncle and nephew are in the same grade." I surrendered. I didn't have to live there anymore. "Eleven and counting living in a five room shack. S.S.D.D., Jay. S.S.D.D."

"Same Shit. Different Day." She understood.

We sat quiet, but comfortable as the sun went down. Dusk is my favorite time of day. It's the time the whole world is soft. All the ugliness gets disguised in purple and gold.

"Look out." Jay warned. "Here come the ass-hats."

I wanted to laugh, but I knew who she was talking about. I groaned instead. Privates Monte, Bowman and Cort could always be heard well before they were seen. They subscribed to the masculine notion that the louder you were, the more important you sounded.

"Walker." The self-appointed leader, Monte yelled by way of starting the conversation. "You're in tonight, no pussing out." I never could tell if Monte wanted to be my buddy or kick my ass.

"Not interested, Monte."

"Dude! You are going. You're twenty-one today. You're like completely legal now and shit."

I only shrugged. Jay elbowed me. "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?"

"You can come too, Nelson, but you'll have to put on something tight." Monte leered.

"You're such a tool."

Monte didn't quite understand that she was insulting him. Instead he resumed badgering me. "Tonight. The South Pole. You're going." Monte's buddies whistled and cat-called. The South Pole was a notorious strip club. It was also the only strip club near base. The guys reverted back to pre-pubescence whenever it was mentioned. I didn't see the appeal.

Monte left and the others followed. They slapped each other's backs and strutted at their great non-accomplishment.

"So...are you gonna go?" Nelson asked, almost timid.

I rubbed my face, weary. "Probably. Just to get Monte off my back."

"Sure. I'm sure that's the only reason." She snipped.

"Hey!" I was startled by her sudden change of mood. "I don't want to go, but Monte will never let it go. It's better if I just go have a beer. Then he'll drop it."

"Okay, fine." She jumped up. "I gotta go. Bye."

The South Pole

The club was as dark and sordid as advertised. We arrived at ten o'clock because according to Monte only 'losers showed up early'. I hoped to slip away after the others were distracted by drinks and the entertainment.

It didn't appear I would be so fortunate. When we arrived, the hostess greeted Monte by name. She seated us at a large booth placed prominently at center stage. In fact, the stage edge served as the table for our drinks. During their routines, the girls would make a circuit by us. I will admit the guys were generous. For all his chauvinism, Monte was a good tipper.

My first drink down, margarita, I think, and things were progressing okay. The place wasn't as repellant as I expected. The night had a thrilling sort of anxiety. There was a sense of universal anticipation. It was primal, raw and uncomplicated. The energy tingled within the male patrons, but the lady entertainers were not immune. Anything was possible in the dark early hours, far away from the judgment of dawn.

The servers were free with the drinks and the music was pleasantly conversation-inhibiting. At the end of each routine, the ladies collected their due from the crowd. Most of the dancers wore themed costumes. There was a sassy librarian, a hottie nurse and classic school girl. The woman, the school girl, on platform exited stage left and climbed onto my lap. 'Climb' wasn't a sensual enough word, but my vocabulary failed to provide an appropriate synonym. She hadn't bothered with putting her costume back on.

"Hi," she tried for smooth nonchalance. She came across satirical. "I'm Candy. I heard it was your birthday."

"Candy? Really?" I couldn't help it. Her name was something out of a poorly scripted porno.

"Candy is sweet." She pouted. "What's your name, Baby?"

"Jon."

"Hey!" She dropped her seductress persona. Candor suited her. "That's not any better!"

"I didn't suggest it was, Ma'am." I conceded.

"Ma'am!" She giggled. "You're too cute!"

That was completely emasculating, but I didn't have time to think about that. She was pulling me to my feet. "You get to come with me to the Champagne Room." I followed like so many weak-minded men before me.

"Champagne Room?" I was nervous and chatty. "Isn't that a little cliché?"

"No more than 'Candy'." She giggled self-effacing. Still leading me, she added. "Men are simple. Men like to know what to expect. And men really like it when reality meets their expectations. They think strip clubs are all champagne rooms filled with girls named Candy, so...ta-da! Here I am!"

"And women are more complicated?"

"Of course, we are! Women want danger and excitement. We want a tall, dark stranger, like you, Jon." She was purring again.

"Dark and dangerous, huh?" I never thought about myself in those terms. Odd. Different. Quiet. Outcast. That was me.

"Definitely." She manhandled me onto the couch. "And sexy as sin."

I changed the subject. "Did Monte set this up?" I wondered how far her act would go.

She gave me a little private smile. "No," she whispered. "Monte just wanted me to tease you a little, maybe shake my ass at you. Give you a thrill." She was on my lap again. She brought her mouth to my ear. "But..."

Candy surprised me with a hard kiss. She tasted faintly of cigarettes covered up by strong mint. The little bits of sequin on her obscene costume dug into my chest. I didn't pull her closer, but I didn't push her away either.

"We have to hurry. The manager doesn't like us mixing business with pleasure." She gave me that personal mischievous grin again. It was so different from the emotionless mask she wore on stage. Quickly my jeans were unbuttoned and pushed down. My shirt was pushed up around my neck. My brain shut off while my body got up to speed. My fingers found her delicate flesh beneath the thin strip of fabric. She arched and moaned exponentially to my minor ministrations. Flushed, she tore away the remains of her clothing. As I took a breath to steady myself, she was on me. Her body engulfed mine with blinding heat. Any protest I had at losing my virginity in a strip club was silenced by the act itself. I was immobilized by sensation. There was only pressure and heat. I felt her everywhere, wet and tight. She was seeping into my very pores. I wanted to consume her. I felt crazed with power. She was beautiful, pliant and mine to command. She took the pleasure I gave her and I wanted to devour her. I felt strong, stronger than I ever had in my life. Everything was murky, fuzzy, yet in my mind, I was invincible.

Her pace so frantic in the beginning, turned lethargic. She continued through her first climax almost more needy and demanding than before. "More, baby. More." She begged. I pushed upward to add to her efforts. "AH!" She half-cried, half-screamed.

Right as she reached the brink of her final orgasm, the door flung open. "CANDY!" A middle aged man barged in. I rolled to my side and let Candy fall softly on the couch. I started to simultaneously apologize and pull my pants up. My inexplicable sense of invincibility abandoned me, leaving me feeling shaky and weak.

I repeated my apology over and over. The manager just shoved passed to berate Candy directly. "What are you doing, stupid bitch?" He grabbed her chin roughly and turned her to face him. Her expression was completely blissed out. She smiled dreamily passed the looming manager to me. He yelled again, but she only kept smiling. She caressed her breasts and then lower down her stomach still looking at me.

The manager turned on me. "What did you give her?" He demanded. "I swear to God if she OD's I will have your balls!"

"Nothing. Nothing, Sir. I don't do drugs." I tried to convince him.

"Baby, baby come back." Candy was reaching toward me. She looked exhausted but divinely sated too. She was still reaching as her eyes closed. The manager's focus was immediately on her again. "Get out of here!" He yelled at me. "Don't ever come back here and if I found out you did something to her, you are dead!"

I didn't wait to be told again. I took the first door I saw. Then the next and the next, until I found myself in the poorly lit alley behind the club. Confused and scared, I ran. Forgetting I rode with Monte, I could only think about getting back to base. Base was where everything made sense and I was safe.

In the Infirmary

"Jay! Jay! Are you awake?" I was at the back door to the infirmary. I couldn't think clearly enough to remember if Jay was on duty tonight or not. I banged on the door anyway.

"I am now. Quiet, before we both get dishonorably discharged." Jay cracked the door so I could slip in. The club was only three miles from the base; it felt like I ran a marathon. I couldn't speak at first. Concerned, Jay brought a cool, damp cloth and pressed it to the back of my neck. "What happened, Walker?"

"I don't know..." I gasped. "There was a girl, a dancer at the club. She started...We started..." I suddenly couldn't tell my friend what I did. But I could tell she already knew. "Then the manager came it. The girl...something was wrong. She looked happy but it wasn't right. She wouldn't get up. It was like she was drained, too tired to care or move...but content."

We were in the one of the exam rooms. I didn't remember how I got there. I guess for the second time that night, a woman led me mindlessly to a room. I finally calmed down enough to sit on the exam table.

"What happened next?" Jay prompted.

"The manager told me to leave. I did. I just took off. Ran straight here." I dropped my head to my hands. "I don't know what happened, Jay. One minute, I was..."

"Having sex." Jay filled in the blank.

"Yeah. Not exactly what I imagined. It scared me. I don't know what would have happened if the manager hadn't come in."

Suddenly Jay was beside me, holding me. I felt overwhelmed and bereft, like I missed out on something very precious, but didn't know what it was.

"shhhh It's okay. It's okay." Jay soothed. "It's not your fault. That girl probably took something before she went on stage. It's okay."

I wondered though, Was it my fault?

Jay's touch became less friendly concern and more friendly.

"Jay, please don't." I pulled away.

"Why? I'm not as pretty as your stripper whore?" She sounded more hurt than angry.

"You're my best friend."

"That's even more reason why we should. We care for each other." Jay stood to face me as I stayed seated on the exam table. Jay nudged her way between my thighs, yet I was the one who felt trapped. She traced the outline of my chest through the damp material. She no longer looked like my "buddy". Her face was full of feminine wonder. "You're special, Jon." She whispered as if she didn't want to frighten me.

I never noticed how small she was before. Her toughness and take-on-the-world attitude masked her natural vulnerability. Now, she was exposed before me. Her eyes and posture pleaded with me to return her affection.

She wanted me to love her.

The surge of power I felt earlier at the club started to tingle again in my chest. What had been a heady drug-like high was now a raging sense of supremacy.

"Are you sure?" I gave her one last out.

"Yes." Her answer was a throaty purr she accompanied with action. She removed her uniform with the speed and efficiency only military practice can instill. For one moment, she stood before me completely nude. Her bright dog tags hung between her exposed breasts. Her hair was still in its neat uniform bun. Her obvious arousal was juxtaposed the remnants of her military image.

It was exciting.

I gained more confidence with Jay and the situation. She may have instigated the act, but I was in control. Or so I thought.

Emboldened, I turned Jay around. Her sculpted back and flawless skin amped up my already pitched desire. First, I pulled the dog tags off over her head. Then I started freeing her bound hair. Jay had chestnut brown hair. It fell to the middle of her back, but tonight was the first time I ever saw it down. I finger combed her incredible mane. She moaned, enjoying my attentions. Growing impatient, she pressed her curved bottom against my erection.

"Ready?" I teased.

"Please." My once-proud friend begged.

That plea triggered the monster I held in check. It was the demon I feared but never acknowledged.

I flipped her onto the exam table. She tried to simultaneously pull me to her and rip my shirt off. She was urgent and clumsy. I let her wrestle with my shirt while I opened my pants. My flesh was hot and massive. I was not being egotistical. I was honestly a little scared looking at it. Jay writhing beneath me brought me back to the moment. Any extraneous thoughts were instantly nullified.

I entered her too quickly. I couldn't stop myself and she didn't protest. There was no slowing down. Both our bodies demanded more and more. Jay stopped making coherent words. She screamed and moaned, but always incessant for more.

I had heard of out-of-body experiences before, the sensation of being dislodged from one's body. It's described as being out of control, of watching yourself in third person. I had a complete in-body experience. I felt everything; was aware of everything; in control of everything. I no longer felt tethered by mundane human considerations, like exhaustion, weakness or empathy.

I don't know how long we were on the table with my flesh punishing hers or her rewarding me with cries of delight when the scales began to shift in my favor. My energy mounted as hers waned. My muscles were fortified by the exchange while Jay grew less responsive.

But she never asked me to stop. It is important you remember that. She urged me on to the very end.

Everything felt better than perfect. Light sweat on scorching skin. Her hair flying about her face. Jay's breathless pleas for 'more'. There was no end to my stamina. My hips rocked forward ruthlessly. My body took and took. With each stroke I grew stronger and less human.

Poor Jay was no match for me.

I felt the end was coming for both of us, though in many ways it was the beginning for me.

Jay managed to curl her arms around my neck. She was too weak to pull me closer. Instead, I cradled her back, being sure to support her head and neck.

"Don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop." She managed to gasp.

I carried out her request. I put in all my effort; depleted all my reserves. I hit the wall of my orgasm and powered through.

It was sublime. It was pure instinct and amplified senses. I had no worries, no higher thoughts beyond the moment.

My breathing leveled. Yet my heart raced. My chest actually hummed with pent up energy. I felt the untapped potential of my own body. I should have been a spent, worn mess. Instead I felt like a god.

Jay hadn't moved. I rose onto my elbows. "Jay?" I pushed her hair from her face. She wore the same blissed out expression as Candy, except Private Jennifer Nelson was dead.

I left Jay on the exam table. I covered her body with a hospital sheet to save her modesty as much as I could. Her dog tags were still lying abandoned on the floor. Selfishly, I wanted a memento. I took the one from the smaller chain and following military tradition, put the other back around her neck.

She could have been asleep. Her face was serene. I envied her peace. I was angry with her, too. Not just for dying, but for making me recognize the dark need, the dark power within me. Surely, I was in part, responsible for her death. I was as guilty as if I strangled the life from her with my bare hands. Yet, the fault lay with her. The horror at what I had done was compromised by the sheer delight forever set in my friend's visage and the clear memory of her pleas for 'more'. Her vitality was spent; no, not spent. Drained. I sucked it from her like a mighty parasite.

I had trouble locating my sorrow. In part, because my body felt profoundly good and because I felt I spared Jay some cruelty of this world. She as a female officer serving during a nasty conflict, her potential was curbed by policy. Her likely path was a mediocre career, bad marriage and bitterness. I freed her from all of that.

My physical sense of well-being was offset by two realizations: I wanted to feel the surge of power while was with Jay and the stripper...and I was willing to accept the consequences.

Invitation

I stopped visiting my family. I'm sure by now I've faded into the local mythology. I'm just the odd uncle that joined the army and never came back. I wonder if I am the remnant of my ancestry or something new. Perhaps I'm a new step in evolution. I wonder if the college professor would find me 'fascinating' now. I think I'm different from my male relatives because I waited. I starved the greedy power within, so when it had its chance it took everything.

The army was all that I hoped it would be, an anonymous place to belong. People only see the uniform. The world's wars have provided the backdrop for my exploits. The US government never turns down a healthy young man looking to enlist. I haven't changed since the night with Jay. I spared her the meanness of Vietnam, but I witnessed Kosovo, Kuwait and Iraq first hand. I see your disbelief. I am much older on the inside. Jay's life stopped time's inevitable work. I went a little wild after being with her. There was Tiffany, Heather and Meredith. Each one was special. Each one had her reason for seeking me out. Depression. Heartache. Disillusionment. I gave them the pleasure of a lifetime in a single night. They thought it was worth it.

That brings me to us...you and me here tonight. Candy was right. Women, or at least some women, like dangerous. They go looking for the tall, dark stranger. Is that not why you are here? You have spent the evening listening to a stranger's dark story. You came looking for danger and found it. I am the man your mother warned you about. Jay was the only one, even after all these years, I have taken that didn't know how it would end. Now, you know.

And you will still come with me."

About B. C. Sirrom

Originally from rural West Virginia, B.C. currently lives in Tennessee with her husband. She studied architecture and landscape architecture, earning degrees in both. She loves creativity in all its forms: art, music, literature, etc. B.C. has always enjoyed storytelling, but until recently never put one of her stories to paper. Writing began as a way to relax during graduate school. No one knew she was writing until her first novel, Solstice Night was under contract. She writes stories that she would enjoy reading, such as fantasy, sci-fi, mystery and paranormal romance. Now working full-time, B.C. still finds time to write every day...well, almost.

Blog: <http://bcsirrom.wordpress.com/>

**Dance of the Valkyrie**

By L. M. Smith

PROLOGUE

Anchorage, Alaska

"And now ... the moment you've all been waiting for!"

The man's alligator skin cowboy boots thumped softly on the short, industrial style carpet as he made his way for the door. The room went dark and somewhere behind him a bright red spotlight clicked on, casting a sinful glow over everything that it touched. The unexpected volume of the cheering was what caught his attention and made him turn. How could a seedy little strip-joint in this part of Anchorage bring in so many patrons on a Thursday? When he saw her standing on the stage something unexpected happened; she certainly wasn't the first stripper he'd ever seen, but she was, without a doubt, the most interesting.

She'd struck a pose at the front of the stage wearing a floor-length red, patent-leather skirt with slits up both sides that were as long as her amazon legs and thigh-high black go-go boots underneath. A matching long red vest completed the ensemble, held together by crisscrossed lacing that barely covered her chest and exposed her muscular abdomen. Her rail-straight black hair was short enough in the back to expose her shaved neck but then gradually sloped downward in the front with long tendrils on either side of her face that cascaded, resting gently between her breasts. But these were not the details that made her unusual; every inch of her well-oiled skin was covered from head-to-toe in gray-wash tattoos, making her look ethereal as it reflected the haunting glow of the spotlight. She had multiple facial and ear piercings but they were almost difficult to notice compared to the two large, amber-colored horns protruding from her forehead and arcing toward the ceiling in razor-sharp points.

Only a few seconds had passed between the announcer's voice and the unexpected music that piped in from the overhead speakers. It wasn't the thumping of drums and squeal of electric guitars that one usually finds in those establishments, but the deep gongs from a large bell followed by a chorus of male voices chanting a slow, dark dirge. A female voice joined in, soft and haunting as it floated over the room with slow, mysterious lyrics about death and soul collection; and the woman on the stage began to move.

"Would you like to sit down?" A bouncer asked from somewhere nearby.

The man realized that his mouth was hanging open slightly and he snapped it shut; unwilling to tear his eyes away from her even as he felt someone take his elbow and lead him to a grungy black armchair.

Instead of hip thrusting and gyrating she began to roll her body slowly and seductively, like a giant serpent as her hands wove intricate patterns in the air around her body. A stripper pole rose from the stage and disappeared into the ceiling but it was ignored by the dancer and forgotten by the crowd as her feet move in slight increments causing her body to shift and sway poetically before them.

As she moved the man felt his interest building up inside of him. He found his eyes carefully tracing each tiny stroke of her fingertips as she danced them tauntingly around the bow upon her breasts.

'One soft tug.' he mused. 'That's all it would take to release them.'

As if reading his thoughts she obliged, deftly tugging at one of the dangling strings, and he felt his eyes widen as the vest slipped open a bit more beneath the weight of her immaculate curves. One-by-one she slowly picked at the laces, releasing them from the eyelets of the vest and allowing it to open a bit more each time. Never missing a trill from the music her body continued to roll and writhe before him but he couldn't stop watching her fingers. As if under some kind of a spell, he truly began to believe that he'd never wanted anything more in his life than to see her revealed. She dipped low, spreading her legs in a crouch that provided the taunting illusion of revealing her most precious secrets. His gaze raked up her exposed thigh slowly like a hungry animal stalking its prey, lapping gleefully at the way that her silhouette sloped upward with the curvature of her buttock before disappearing behind the frustrating appeal of her skirt.

His brief disappointment was repaired, however, as in the moment of distraction she'd managed to release the last string from her top and shrugged it from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the stage behind her with a soft thump. He believed that her breasts were near perfection and imagined that they would be just large enough to fill each of his hands yet still small enough to maintain a natural shapeliness. She rolled her body forward as she stood, sliding her own hands slowly up her body just as every man in the room wished that he could be doing instead. As she cupped one of her breasts in her hand her lips parted and a surprisingly long and narrow tongue slipped out to lightly lap at the firm nipple. An explosion of heat roiled through his stomach and he felt the discomfort of his excitement pressing against the back of his zipper.

She began to roll her hips in slow, seductive circles, turning her back to the audience a bit more with each one before spreading her feet wide and bending at the hips, just enough to suggest the very thing that every man in the room was thinking about, yet not enough to fully give them what they wanted. In that moment the man realized that her skirt was actually two separate flaps of leather, held together on her hips by ties just as her vest had been ... and her fingers were dancing over them with titillating precision. He shifted unintentionally forward on the chair, perching on the very edge and leaning toward her as the anticipation built. The music rose slightly in pitch and tempo, signifying that the end was near and his palms began to sweat with the suspense.

Suddenly the red spotlight shifted to one of cobalt blue and at that exact moment she gave in. With a single tug her skirt dropped to the floor and the haunting glow of the light shimmering over her skin painted her like a wild animal, waiting to be discovered. For the first time she gripped the pole tightly with both hands, lifting one leg up over her shoulder and just as the first shouts of joy began to erupt from the crowd the music ended and the spotlight went dark, plunging the entire room into utter blackness with little more than a glimpse at the very thing that they'd all been waiting for.

The man's throat erupted with howls of appreciation along with the others in the room and he jumped from his seat, longing to charge back across the club and into the woman's dressing room where he knew that she would be waiting.

"Missy's gonna be up in about twenty minutes."

The deep voice of the massive bouncer over his left shoulder stopped him before he could take a single step.

"She's not as good as Bonnie, but she's worth the wait. Can I get you something to drink?" He continued, waving at one of the scantily clad waitresses that were now weaving about the room with their trays.

The man ignored him, glancing back toward the dressing room just as Bonnie opened it a crack and allowed someone else inside.

"What can I get ya, cutie?" A tiny wisp of a woman was suddenly standing next to him wearing a bright orange and white baby-doll.

"I'm leaving." The man said gruffly before heading for the door.

ONE

Bonnie watched the blood ooze from the pores of her calf just before Karina, her tattoo artist and long-time friend, wiped it deftly away with a damp paper towel.

"I think I'm actually going to be sad when this is finally finished." Karina mused in her thick, Ukrainian accent without lifting her eyes from her work.

She was an immigrant and an artist in every sense of the word but you wouldn't know it by looking at her. For one thing, she didn't have a single tattoo of her own and, aside from a delicate silver ring in her right nostril, she lacked any other forms of body modification at all. If Bonnie had simply met her on the street as opposed to in the shop she would have pictured the woman attending a yoga class or a drum circle in a public park, based on her appearance. She had long, fuzzy brown dreadlocks that she always wore pulled up in a messy pile atop her head and her clothes always looked like they were homemade from some kind of organic fabric spun from plant byproducts. But she was one of the kindest people that Bonnie had ever met and, without a doubt, one of the very best artists in the business.

"Are you saying you're going to miss me, or the art?" Bonnie replied playfully.

In truth she knew that Karina would probably miss the paychecks that she'd been receiving more than anything. Bonnie had spent nearly ten years and over twenty-thousand dollars in Karina's shop adding to her gray-wash full body tattoos. To be honest, she wasn't really that into body art either, but like all Valkyries, Bonnie had been born with some unusual physical characteristics that made it difficult for her to interact with humanity. Among those characteristics were her large leathery bat-like wings, long red hair that always burned on the ends and smelled of sulfur, and her naturally gray-colored skin. She'd found a plastic surgeon in Seattle who had removed the wings for her and, even though he'd sworn not to tell anyone, she'd killed him when he was finished just to be sure. Shaving her head dealt with the burning hair problem and the sulfur stench, but the only way to hide gray skin was to cover it in gray-wash art to make people think that somewhere under all that ink she must have been pink like everyone else at some point in her life. Karina was the only one who knew that Bonnie's skin was naturally gray but she didn't seem to care and she spoke so little English that she doubted anyone would believe her if she ever did try to tell them.

"You will still come to visit me, no?" Karina asked, glancing up at Bonnie only briefly.

"Of course."

"You must bring me, still, the number for the man who did the horns."

Bonnie sighed. Another physical trait of all Valkyries was two thick, amber-colored horns that grew from the front of her forehead and curled upward into sharp points. She'd told Karina that the horns were implants that she'd purchased from a modification clinic in San Francisco, but this had only been a lie to pacify the artist. Modification clinics were rare and horn implants even more so, but they were possible and there were a select few, eccentric humans that had them. Unfortunately for Bonnie, Karina had asked for the clinic's number so that she could recommend them if she ever had other customers that were interested in the extreme. Bonnie had been making excuses to Karina for years when it came to the fictitious clinic, but now her tattoos were almost complete and, despite the fact that she'd grown fond of the artist, she had no intention of ever returning to this shop once they were finished.

At that moment the tiny bell on the shop's front door chimed and Bonnie could hear Beth, Karina's assistant, welcoming someone from the front of the shop.

"I'm looking for Bonnie Hansen." A deep male voice said as the sound of his shoes clacked softly across the linoleum floor. Bonnie stiffened in her seat and Karina glanced up at her, irritated by the movement.

"No one works here by that name." Beth replied, sounding as polite and considerate as she always did.

"She's a customer, actually. I was told that I'd be able to find her here."

"I'm sorry sir but HIPPA laws prevent me from confirming or denying the names of our patrons."

Bonnie smirked and Karina sighed with hopeless annoyance.

"Bonnie Hansen!" The stranger called out, loud enough for his voice to echo from the shop's rear walls.

Now it was Bonnie's turn to sigh and she shot Karina an apologetic look before replying in her normal speaking voice. "I'm back here. Who wants to know?"

The rhythm of the man's shoes thudded toward her slowly as he approached and when he finally came into view around the privacy screen between her station and the next, she immediately knew what he was. His crisp denim jeans and white button up shirt would have looked mismatched were it not for the gray suit jacket, left unbuttoned, and the sliver of a gun holster peeking out from beneath it. He wasn't a cop or he would have been wearing a uniform and he carried himself with too much arrogance to be a criminal, so that left her with only one other possibility – detective.

The expression of surprise on his face when he took in her physical appearance was one that Bonnie had seen a thousand times and still couldn't get used to. The shaved head, tattoos, and smattering of facial piercings might have only surprised some people but the horns got to everyone, every time.

"I'm – um – Detective Kirk – uh – mam." He stammered, confirming her assessment.

Bonnie smirked again. "Mam?"

"Do you know a gentleman by the name of Walter Brown?" He asked, ignoring her taunt.

Bonnie felt her stomach drop as she nodded. Walter was one of her customers from the RedTail, the strip club where she worked. Most of the men that came to watch her dance simply drank their beers, enjoyed the show, and went on with life but occasionally she could pick out the lonely and the ones with low self-esteem, work her magic on them, and have them eating out of her palm – and dishing out their pockets – for the rest of their lives.

"When was the last time you saw Mr. Brown?" He asked.

"Walter." She corrected. Mr. Brown sounded too formal for someone like Walter.

Detective Kirk merely nodded in concession, waiting for her to answer his question.

"Maybe a little over a week ago. He moved to Dutch Harbor so we don't see each other as often as we used to. Is he missing?"

"I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this but, Walter is dead." His apology sounded more like a reflex from his many years on the job than it did a sincere consideration of her feelings.

"How did he die?" She asked, allowing her voice to catch slightly in a feigned show of emotion.

"He was murdered. Stabbed twice in the back and left face-down in a field just outside of the Royal Yukon logging camp."

"Do you know who killed him?" She asked, though she already knew the answer. If the police knew who the murderer was Kirk wouldn't be here asking her questions.

"Where were you last Monday night between the hours of eight and eleven?" He asked.

"I was working." Her answer came quickly and as naturally as if it had been the truth.

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"Lots of people, I'm an exotic dancer at the RedTail on Gibson. Ask Russ, the bouncer. He was there that night."

"What time did you leave work?"

"I'm not sure exactly but I rarely get out of there before one or two in the morning."

"I'm finished." Karina announced, interrupting their chatter.

Bonnie looked down to admire the work even as Karina began applying some ointment to it.

"It's beautiful, as always." Bonnie said, swinging her leg off the edge of the bench and reaching for her Prada purse. "I'd love to stay and chat but I've gotta get to work."

Detective Kirk cleared his throat to remind her that he wasn't done questioning her yet. She turned her head to look at him while putting on her left shoe.

"I'm sorry Detective, I'd be more than happy to answer your questions but Sal, my boss, is an ass. If I don't show for work tonight he'll explode and make everyone else's life in that place hell. Can I come by your office in the morning? I promise you'll have my undivided attention."

He looked like he was preparing to argue but Bonnie stood, without waiting for his answer, and began squeezing past Karina in the narrow cubicle.

"Sal is the one that told me where to find you." He admitted.

"Then you know what a prick he is." She said, feigning relief and heading toward the front of the store. "I'll be there first thing in the morning, bright and early. I promise."

Kirk followed, taking up a stance between her position at Beth's register and the door.

"Am I under arrest?" She asked, cocking out her hip.

"No." He answered quickly ... too quickly. She must be their only suspect at this point.

"In that case I'm going to work and you can't stop me. Feel free to have someone keep an eye on me if you want." With that she handed three one-hundred dollar bills to Beth and called softly toward the back of the store. "See you in a few months Kar!"

When she turned to leave she was surprised to see Detective Kirk holding the door open for her. "Just one more question, if you don't mind." He pressed.

Once outside she stopped to oblige him.

"Do you know where, in Dutch Harbor, Walter was living? We tried the address on his identification but it's vacant and none of his former co-workers have seen him in over six months."

She nodded, now understanding how he'd found her. Walter used to work in cod processing on the docks but he was fired last spring. If Kirk spoke to the other dock boys one of them would have told him about her and since the majority of them were regular customers, they all knew where she worked.

"He was renting a spare room from Geoff Banks and his grandson. Geoff is the skipper of a red crab boat called the Caramina; he gave Walter a job and a place to stay after he got canned here in Anchorage."

Detective Kirk nodded his appreciation and Bonnie broke into a jog toward the city bus half-a-block away.

TWO

Bonnie took the fifty-dollars from the outstretched hand of the man between her legs and stood up. Warm, creamy liquid slipped between her thighs as she picked up her purple satin robe decorated with a silver Chinese dragon and slipped it on.

"Russ will be around to check on you in a few minutes so be sure to have yourself cleaned up by then ok?" She said.

The old sailor merely grinned at her through his disheveled beard as she grabbed a small black hand-towel from a stack near the door and tossed it on his stomach. Tying the sash on her robe she disappeared into one of the dancer's dressing rooms, making sure to lock the door securely behind her.

Technically and legally speaking, Bonnie wasn't a hooker – she was a dancer – but the club did have private rooms for patrons with slightly larger pockets and when one came along with a big enough budget, Bonnie was usually willing to go the extra mile. Of course Sal would come unglued if he knew what she and some of the other girls were really doing in those rooms but, fortunately for them, he was too cheap to replace the cardboard cameras that had hung from the ceilings since 1983 with real ones. Russ and some of the other bouncers knew the truth but as long as Bonnie and the other girls tossed them a few bones here and there, they were more than happy to keep their mouths shut about it.

The RedTail had about a dozen bouncers overall but Russ was Bonnie's favorite and she knew that he felt the same way about her. He was gay but that only made things easier for Bonnie because it gave her someone that she could count on who was also immune to her powers.

Valkyries don't just look different from normal human beings; they also have abilities that land them firmly in the realm of the supernatural. Most Valkyries consumed the souls of humans to survive but a few decades ago, when Bonnie left her clan to try out life in the real world, she gave up munching on souls and forced herself to develop a taste for chi instead. As it turned out, chi was a much better source of sustenance for a Valkyrie for a variety of reasons. Every human has only one soul and once a Valkyrie has taken it, or even part of it, it will never grow back. The humane thing to do when taking a soul is to kill the human so that he doesn't end up walking around trying to live his life without it; soulless humans tend to develop homicidal tendencies that lead them to torture and kill the fellow members of their species. But chi is the energy by which the human body functions and a Valkyrie can nibble at a human's chi throughout his entire life without any lasting side effects. Once the human experiences a strong emotion such as fear, anger, joy, or lust his chi begins to replenish itself and Bonnie learned that she could use the emotion of lust to her advantage in more ways than one.

Valkyries are predators and, just like any other predator on the planet, they're naturally equipped with special talents that make it easier for them to capture their prey, just as spiders spin webs and lions have huge claws and sharp teeth. For Valkyries, their talents are strength and seduction. The strength comes from the ability to store portions of the souls or chi that they consume in their horns and then tap into it as needed for an extra burst of potency, which is why Bonnie opted not to have her horns removed along with her wings. But the seduction happens when they dance; even with their shocking and even terrifying appearance, once a Valkyrie starts to dance no human male can resist her.

Bonnie was just about to step into the small shower for a quick rinse when she heard a soft tap on one of the dressing room's doors.

"Yeah?" She called out in response.

"Just checking." Russ replied from the other side.

Bonnie smiled with genuine affection. Russ was a really good person, and an even better friend. That was why she'd given Detective Kirk his name specifically – Russ would back up anything that Bonnie said without hesitation and he'd never ask questions. From Russ' perspective, what Bonnie did was her business and his job was just to keep her safe.

*****

As Bonnie walked through the police station toward Detective Kirk's office she wasn't oblivious to the fact that all eyes were turning in her direction. She'd hoped that she would get used to the staring and gaping at some point but, so far, she hadn't been able to. Still, being the town freak was preferable to living in underground tunnels and only coming out at night as her sisters did. One of the reasons that she'd chosen Anchorage, Alaska was because Valkyries hated the cold so none of her sisters would ever think to come looking for her here – the fact that the city experienced up to nineteen consecutive hours of daylight for months at a time didn't hurt either, since she was probably the only member of her species on the planet with enough guts to strut among humans in broad daylight.

Bonnie had left her clan because she and one of her sisters had dabbled in a guilty human pleasure that was forbidden among her kind ... sex. Over a century ago they'd snuck into the soldier camps of the revolutionary war, seducing warriors that would pleasure them before surrendering their souls. When their clan Mother had found out about what they'd been doing she'd punished them severely, equating a Valkyrie lying with humans to the perspective humans had on bestiality. But Valkyries didn't have any males among their own species and since the only member of a clan able to bear young was the clan's Mother, Bonnie failed to see the harm in it. Sex with males was preferable, from her perspective, to the erotic enjoyments that her sisters often shared with each other and, eventually, her lust for it had led her to flee in search of a different way of life.

Detective Kirk was on the phone when she tapped on the glass wall at the front of his office. He quickly ended the conversation and waved her inside.

"See? Bright and early, just like I promised." She said cheerfully.

"Have a seat." He instructed, barely glancing up from a yellow notepad as he scribbled something in a hurried mess.

Bonnie did as she was told, perching herself on the edge of a flimsy metal office chair across the desk from him. As she waited she noticed a picture frame on his desk depicting a lovely young and very pregnant woman, smiling with a dozen red roses in her arms.

"Was it a boy or a girl?" She asked, motioning toward the photograph.

"We don't know yet, she's not due for another few weeks. Can you please describe the nature of your relationship with Mr. Brown?"

Bonnie stiffened. "We were just friends."

"Are you sure about that?"

She sighed and sat back a bit farther in the chair. "Walter and I were just friends, but we were also pretending to be engaged." She admitted.

"Pretending. Why?" The accusation in his voice was obvious.

"Walter was gay, but he was still in the closet about it. His parents are very religious and he didn't want them to find out so I agreed to go along with the false engagement for his benefit." She explained.

"And why would you do that?"

"Being ... unavailable in my line of work has its advantages Detective. It creates a barrier for my customers and helps them to understand which behaviors are acceptable and which ones are not."

"And what about Mr. Banks; how well do you know him?"

Bonnie sat back in the chair fully now, stretching her long legs out in front of her. "Geoff and I go way back. I've known him longer than I knew Walter."

"Was he another one of your customers?"

She nodded. "He came into the RedTail about ten years ago, shortly after I was hired. When Walter lost his job on the docks I knew Geoff was looking for some help on his boat so I introduced them."

Kirk nodded and began writing quickly on his yellow notepad once more. "Can you think of anyone that would want to kill Mr. Brown?" He asked, without looking up.

Bonnie felt a wash of relief; a question like that meant that she was probably no longer a suspect. Maybe that had been Russ on the phone when she'd arrived, confirming her alibi.

"No, not really." She answered, honestly.

"Did he have any lovers?"

"None that I know of. Like I said, he was pretty deep in the closet so I doubt he would have taken a chance on seeing anyone in a place as small as Dutch Harbor."

"Do you have any idea why Mr. Brown would have come to Anchorage last week?"

Bonnie shook her head. They'd found Walter's body in a logging community just outside of Anchorage but he hadn't said anything to her about coming to town.

"And you didn't see him while he was here?" Kirk continued, still scribbling on his paper.

"No, I didn't even know he was in town."

He nodded and stuck out his hand. "Thank you for your time Miss Hansen."

Bonnie looked up quickly. "That's it?"

"Unless you can think of something you're not telling me." He fired back.

"No, I can't ... but if you want to give me your card I can call you if I do."

He'd stopped suspecting her, which was a relief, but a show of sincere cooperation just might make him trust her.

"Absolutely." He reached across the desk and retrieved a white business card from the silver display that was right in front of her. Flipping it over, he wrote a 10-digit number on the back before handing it to her.

"My office number is on the front and I'll be leaving for Dutch Harbor this afternoon so I've put my cell on the back." He offered.

She nodded, taking the card and shaking his hand before leaving.

THREE

"Hey BonBon." Russ called softly through her dressing room door, drawing her from deep contemplation.

She shot a glance at the clock, relieved to see that it was only seven-thirty; she still had a good half-hour before her show started.

"C'min!" She called back, adjusting her robe.

The door opened a crack and Russ poked his head through. "That Detective Kirk guy is here to see you." He whispered.

Bonnie nodded – she'd been expecting this. It had been over twenty-four hours since she'd met with Detective Kirk in his office and she hadn't heard from him. She wanted to be relieved by that but, considering he'd been about to leave for Dutch Harbor the last time they spoke, she'd assumed he would have returned with more questions for her about Geoff ... questions that she'd spent the last day-and-a-half inventing answers for.

"Send him in." She said, reaching across the makeup counter to toy with the jet-black wig that she would be wearing in her show tonight. She had a whole collection of wigs in various lengths and colors but this one was her personal favorite.

A moment later the door opened again and Detective Kirk entered her dressing room, followed by Russ. The bouncer took up stance by the door, closing it behind him and folding his arms across his chest protectively as Bonnie motioned Kirk toward one of the other chairs in the room. He opted to stand, however, and from the look on his face, Bonnie was going to need those answers that she'd come up with.

"How was Dutch Harbor?" She asked, before he could speak.

"It must be convenient having two fiancés living under the same roof so far away." He shot back, ignoring her question.

She sighed and motioned for Russ to leave them alone. The massive bouncer slipped out and, once he'd closed the door behind him, Bonnie offered once more for Detective Kirk to have a seat but, again, he declined.

"Geoff and I are not, nor have we ever been engaged." She said frankly.

"Well you might want to make sure he knows that because he seems to think otherwise."

"When I introduced Geoff to Walter we explained the truth to him about our engagement. I thought that if Walter was going to be living under the same roof as Geoff's grandson he should know about Walter's ... preferences."

This was, of course, only a partial truth. Bonnie had given Geoff the explanation about the engagement behind Walter's back. In truth, Walter hadn't actually been gay but she'd convinced Geoff not to mention it to Walter because it was a sensitive subject, so neither man had ever been the wiser. Now she needed Kirk to believe that same lie.

"So if Geoff knew that Walter was gay it made you free to be engaged twice." He accused, much closer to the truth than she wanted him to be.

"No." She lied. "When we told Geoff that I was only pretending to be engaged to Walter he made the joke that I should pretend to be engaged to him too so that he could brag about it to all of his buddies down at the bar in Dutch Harbor. It was just a joke, but it kind of stuck."

It was a lousy explanation and the doubt in Kirk's expression proved that he wasn't buying it.

"Why else would Walter have put up with it?" She asked, hoping to add credence to the story.

"Geoff said you visit Dutch Harbor sometimes. What exactly do you do when you're there?" His question held a kaleidoscope of accusations and Bonnie's stomach turned at the mental image of having a three-way with Geoff and Walter.

"We hang out, that's all. The four of us go down to the bar and drink duck farts and then argue over which one of us has to pay for the cab."

His left eyebrow peaked. "The four of you?" He asked.

She nodded innocently. "Yeah; myself, Walter, Geoff, and Todd."

"Todd as in Geoff's grandson?"

"Yeah he's twenty-two years old. It's perfectly legal Detective."

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty-nine." In truth, Bonnie was over four-hundred years old but when she'd first moved to Alaska she'd put her age on her fake ID as eighteen so that she could capitalize on the market for 'barely legal' strippers. Staying in one town for ten years meant that she'd had to celebrate her birthdays accordingly.

"Have you ever ... been engaged to Todd?" He asked carefully.

"If you mean have I ever had sex with Todd the answer is no."

Her words, both truthful and firm, resounded in the tiny room. She hadn't intended to raise her voice but from her perspective Walter, at forty-eight years old, was a child compared to her, making Todd the immortality-equivalent of an infant. She might not have moral standards when it came to bilking men out of their money but she'd never looked at Todd as anything more than a drinking buddy.

The knock on her door was a welcome interruption this time and she looked up eagerly expecting to see Russ telling her that it was almost time for her to go on stage. To her disappointment, however, a different familiar face appeared. Chet was a lumberjack who would disappear for months at-a-time to work the hard trails in the upper canyons. He stood well over six-feet and had the broad shoulders and massive arms to match. His physique was handsome but his face left something to be desired with weathered wrinkles around his eyes and a large gap between his two front teeth. He was always filthy and stunk of body odor but logging was a lucrative business and his pockets were deeper than both Geoff and Walter's combined. In an instant Chet's expression changed from glee at seeing Bonnie again to jealousy and rage as he charged across the room in two enormous strides and pinned Kirk against a wall of lockers.

"Who the hell are you?" He demanded, bracing his forearm under Kirk's chin.

"Chet stop it!" Bonnie demanded jumping from her chair.

An instant later Russ entered, filling the last of the small space with his three-hundred pounds and separated the two men effortlessly.

"I'm a homicide detective, who the hell are you?" Kirk said, adjusting his collar with one hand and flashing his badge with the other.

"I'm Bonnie's fiancé. Homicide? Who died?" He looked first at Bonnie and then back at Detective Kirk with an expression of confusion.

"One of my customers, Chet. It's ok; he's just asking me some questions. Why don't you go back out and I'll see you after the show ok? I promise."

Despite his rough exterior and even more volatile personality Chet trusted Bonnie, and Russ, so he didn't put up a fight when the bouncer took his elbow and started leading him toward the door.

"You're on in five BonBon." Russ added over his shoulder as they left.

Bonnie's stomach was turning now as she glanced back at Kirk and saw that he was gaping at her with a mixture of suspicion and disbelief. Two fake fiancés had been hard for him to swallow but expecting him to believe in a third one was going to be out of the question.

"I'll explain everything after the show but right now I've got to finish getting ready."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just arrest you right now!" He shouted.

"Keep your voice down! I'll give you two! Because I was here the night Walter was murdered and you know it. And because you don't have a shred of physical evidence that even suggests that I was involved. Now you're welcome to wait for me in here if you want and we can continue this in a few minutes, but I have got to be on that stage or there's going to be a riot out there."

The crowd had started chanting "Freak Show" – an affectionate nickname for Bonnie – and she suspected that Chet had started it with some gentle persuasion from Russ. The bouncer poked his head back into the room without knocking this time and the expression on his face solidified her claims – she was expected and there would be a small crowd of angry, drunk men if she didn't show.

"I'm leaving, but I had better see you in my office first thing tomorrow morning or I will get a warrant." Kirk threatened, jamming a pointed finger into the space between them.

"I'll be there." She promised.

"I'll walk him to the door." Russ offered, following Kirk out and closing the door behind him.

FOUR

The moment that Bonnie climbed out of the cab she could feel someone watching her. No doubt Kirk had taken her up on her previous offer of having someone keep an eye on her until he could find the evidence that he needed to arrest her. She tipped the driver and waited for him to pull away before looking around for the source of her discomfort. To her surprise, however, it wasn't a squad car or even an unmarked police car that she saw two houses down, it was Kirk himself. As soon as she saw him he began crossing the street toward her, stomping his snake skin boots angrily with each swift stride.

"What are you doing -?" She started to ask, but he cut her off.

"How many are there Bonnie?" He demanded loudly, causing her to take a step back toward the sidewalk in front of her condo.

"Just Chet." She promised.

"And what's the story with him? You do have one right?"

"No. I love him." She lied.

He stopped just short of the curb and she took another step away from him.

"You love him?"

The disbelief and accusation in his voice wasn't surprising. She knew exactly how this looked from his perspective and, at the moment, there wasn't a damn thing that she could do to fix it.

"Look, cheating wasn't a crime the last time I checked and you know I didn't kill Walter, I have an alibi." She said quietly, not wanting to cause a scene.

"Another lie, you mean."

"You talked to Russ, he confirmed it." She argued.

"You're right, I did talk to Russ ... and he did confirm it, but that was before I realized you have some kind of mystical way with men."

Her stomach quavered and she felt beads of sweat building on the back of her neck despite the cold.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I stuck around at the club tonight after your show; I had some time to kill while I waited for you to leave. I had a very interesting chat with a couple of the waitresses in the club and they told me that you weren't dancing the night of Walter's murder. In fact, they told me that you weren't there the night before, or the night after his murder either! They said you had Missy fill in for you and they remembered it clearly because, as you said yourself, there was practically a riot when the men that were there to see you didn't get what they wanted!"

He was shouting now and her face flushed when she noticed someone peeking out at them from one of the windows in the apartment complex across the street.

"Where were you Bonnie?" He demanded.

"What is wrong with you? You're acting more like a jealous..."

She stopped as the truthfulness of what she'd been about to say sunk in. Although his method of checking up on her alibi was the mark of good police work, his behavior at the moment was more like that of a jilted lover than a professional homicide investigator.

"You stayed for the show." She finished quietly, sagging with despair.

"Damn right, and it's a good thing I did!" He confessed.

She deflated even more. She'd never intended to let him see her dance which is why she'd invited him to wait in the dressing room. 'Dammit!' She thought as she remembered the picture of his pregnant wife and unborn child on his desk. The men that she'd influenced had been lonely, horny old fishermen, lumberjacks, and construction workers. She'd been dishonest with them, alleviated their pockets of hard-earned cash, and led them on but she'd never hurt anyone before. Now Walter was dead and Kirk was a raging sack of angry hormones that would do anything she asked him too; anything except go back to loving his wife and family.

"Come inside and I'll explain everything." She said sadly. "We can't stay out here causing a scene."

*****

Bonnie raked her nails down Kirk's back in delicious pleasure as he thrust himself against her repeatedly. They'd been in her bed for over an hour and she was nearing her fourth climax but he was showing no signs of slowing down. He gripped her left nipple firmly between his teeth, hissing as the pain caused by her fingernails increased the intensity of his passion. His next thrust came even harder and deeper than before pushing her entire body a few centimeters closer to the headboard.

For a brief moment, when she'd first taken him upstairs to her bedroom, she'd wanted to feel guilty for what they were about to do, but after a decade of depraved sailors and filthy mountain men, a seasoned and attractive man like Detective Kirk was a welcome indulgence. The way that he growled softly with each thrust excited the hell out of her and his impressive stamina was like winning the lottery, but her favorite thing about him was the way that he had taken immediate control; ravaging her like a wild beast when so many of the other men had preferred to simply lay back and let her do all of the work.

Suddenly he tucked his arms beneath her hips and scooped her off of the bed as he rose to his knees and sat back on his heels. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to continue the rhythm of their bodies rocking in tandem but he was holding her so tightly to him that she could barely move. In a second swift, fluid motion he lunged forward with her, slamming her back against the headboard with such force that she felt slightly dizzy with excitement. She scrambled to pull her feet beneath her on the bed so that she could support herself as he released her hips and grabbed the headboard with both hands, using it as leverage to resume his thrusting. He covered her mouth with his, pressing his tongue between her lips and plunging himself even deeper between her thighs. Every motion felt so incredible that she wanted to scream with joy but he was making it hard for her to breathe and that only excited her more.

A few powerful thrusts later he finally released her lips, moving to nibble and suck on the side of her neck. His gruff breathing and excited growling each time he re-entered her body added to the intensity and passion of the moment and she knew that he was finally getting closer to ecstasy. Even as she felt his shoulders begin to stiffen against her breasts, pressing her back against the wall, her own orgasm exploded upward through her naval making her toes curl and her fingertips claw tiny shreds of wood from the headboard. With a final explosive thrust she felt his iron shaft flex inside of her and a loud snarl escaped his lips as he released the headboard, grabbing her hips and crushing her against him.

As the intensity began to subside he tossed his head back to look up at the ceiling, exhaling deeply. Eyeing the exposed flesh of his throat for a moment she lunged forward, biting him sharply, hard enough to make it hurt but careful not to break the skin.

"Owe!" He exclaimed, jumping back slightly to look at her, but in a single breath his lips parted in a large grin and he laughed. Relieved, she joined in, knowing for certain now that he was completely under her spell. For a moment her relief was tempered by sadness; she hadn't expected him to be such a great lay and now, after what they'd just experienced together, she wasn't sure whether or not she'd be able to kill him if it ever came to that.

"Wanna go again?" She asked, loving the way that her breasts felt pressed between their firm bodies.

He laughed and fell back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. He was still inside of her but she could already feel that he was starting to soften and she knew that he needed a break.

"How about something to drink then?" She offered instead.

"That sounds perfect." He breathed.

She started to roll off of him but he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her against him once more for another passionate kiss.

"Hurry back." His whispered, letting her go.

When she returned to the room carrying two glasses of merlot she found him still lying nude on the bed where she'd left him, and the sight of his sweat-glistened body made her breath catch in her throat. He'd shifted to his side and had propped his head up with one hand. He was grinning at her and in that moment she had everything that she'd ever wanted when she'd left her clan.

She moved to sit on the bed beside him and handed him one of the goblets of wine but her mind was suddenly a million miles away, attempting to devise a plan that would get her out of the spotlight for Walter's murder and allow her to keep Kirk for herself all at the same time.

"You're not human." He said quietly, snapping her attention back to him.

"What?" She asked, feeling her heart skip a beat.

"You can't be. You're too perfect. You must be an angel." He swooned.

She relaxed a bit and tapped one of her horns as a reminder. "Hardly."

He grinned, reaching up to caress the horn gently with the fingertips of his free hand. "I think they're beautiful."

She sighed, remembering once more that his love for her wasn't real. Two days ago he'd been shocked and disgusted by the very sight of her in Karina's tattoo parlor.

"Do you really think that I killed Walter?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Definitely not." His conviction was not as encouraging as she would have liked. "But if you can't provide a better alibi for the night that he was murdered then no one is going to believe you." He added.

She shifted on the bed, rolling onto her stomach and stretching her legs out toward the headboard. He moved his fingertips in a slow trail down her back and over the curve of her left buttock.

"If I tell you where I was for those three days will you promise not to get angry?"

"I could never be angry at you." He cooed and she rolled her eyes. Of course not ... at least, not anymore.

"I was with Chet." This time she was telling him the truth. "We went to Phoenix together."

He frowned deeply at her but, as promised, he didn't get angry. "I know you don't really love him." He said quietly.

"You're right, I don't. But he makes very good money and that was something that I really admired about him."

"But he won't make you happy." He stroked his hand back up her body lightly and she looked at him with a smile.

"Definitely not as much as you could." She admitted.

"I have money too, you know. I've been saving up for a few years but you and I could take the money and go somewhere warm, like Tahiti."

"What about your wife?" She asked, cautiously.

"We've been having problems lately anyway." He answered dismissively.

She knew that, in that moment, he truly believed what he was saying but she also knew that it was a lie. Twenty-four hours ago he would have insisted that they were happy and that life was perfect for them ... and he would have been right.

"I can't leave until we solve Walter's murder. I'm innocent and I'm going to prove it."

"The coroner sent for a forensic specialist out of Seattle. She'll be here in the morning."

"Promise me that you'll tell me everything they find out?" She asked, feeling hopeful once more.

"I promise." He whispered as he pressed his hand between the backs of her thighs. She opened them obediently and inhaled sharply as he slipped two fingers inside of her. Swallowing the last of her wine in a single gulp she dropped first her glass, and then his, on the floor at the foot of the bed and rolled to face him for orgasm number five.

FIVE

Bonnie waved to Todd from the window of the single-engine Sesna as it touched down in Dutch Harbor the next morning. Detective Kirk had left shortly after four a.m. and she'd immediately showered and scheduled a charter to visit Geoff before the next crab season started the following morning. Todd was looking well from what she could tell, he'd shaved off all of his lovely dark brown hair and had finally traded in his L.A. sense of style for some more practical Alaska attire; donning jeans, work boots, and a thick blue wind breaker with a matching baseball cap.

As she climbed carefully from the plane he opened his arms for a hug and she obliged, enjoying the sensation of being genuinely appreciated by someone that wasn't under her spell. Russ appreciated her, of course, but Todd had harbored a little crush on her ever since his mother had sent him to Alaska so that his grandfather could straighten him out – and by the looks of it, she'd made the right decision.

"Hey Scooter, long time no see." She said when he finally released her.

"No bags?" He asked looking to the charter pilot who was now cleaning his windshield.

"No I can't stay. I just came to chat with the old man for a few hours and then I'm heading back tonight."

"That's too bad. I was going to challenge you to a duck fart competition."

Duck farts were the favored drink of the locals; a mixture of whiskey, Irish cream, and amaretto. The whiskey caused the cream to congeal in the bottom of the glass making the power-packed shooter look like liquid shit in a pool of dirty water.

"Oh please, you'll never win. Remember last time when you ended up almost falling off the pier..."

By that time they were both laughing so hard at the memory that she didn't even have to finish her sentence. He wrapped an arm casually over her shoulders and led her toward his grandpa's dingy red truck. Crab fishermen generally made some great money and Geoff was certainly no exception but he still lived in a run-down little house and drove a beat-up old pick-up everywhere.

Bonnie and Todd chatted idly all the way back to the house where Geoff was waiting for them in a plastic lawn chair on the front porch. His ear-to-ear grin wasn't nearly as sincere as Todd's had been but it still felt good to see him again. When Bonnie had first met Geoff he'd requested a private visit with her in the lap-dance room but once she'd closed the door he'd given her fifty dollars to please herself while he watched. He'd insisted that she take her time and truly enjoy herself, so she did – forgetting that he was even in the room as she'd fantasized about someone else and when she'd finally climaxed, it had been the real deal. When she'd finished he'd simply thanked her, and left without ever laying a hand on her. From that moment on he'd been her all-time favorite customer, until last night with Kirk.

"Hello beautiful. Need some money?" He asked the moment that she climbed out of the truck.

She smiled and declined the offer; she'd stopped taking money from Geoff years ago when he'd stolen a little place in her heart for being a genuinely kind old man. Sometimes she even wished that she could have freed him from her magic but once the damage was done there was no way to reverse it.

"No sir! I'm here for you, not your bank account." She called back, crossing the tiny yard and taking the front steps two-by-two.

They hugged and he quickly invited her in out of the cold.After a few minutes of catching up Bonnie finally decided that she needed to get down to the reason for her visit.

"Geoff, I'm sure you know that I'm here about Walter's murder." She said gently, holding his hands in both of her own as they sat together on his moth-eaten sofa.

"I didn't do it." He said sadly.

"I know you didn't sweetie, but I need to find out who did. Those cops in Anchorage are doing a piss poor job and they're starting to look at me for it because it's easier for them than finding out the truth."

"Well I told that Detective Kirk fella everything I know."

"Did Kirk go through Walter's room?" She asked, hopeful that he'd missed something important.

"Yes, even took half of it with him." He said slowly.

"Damn."

The fact that Kirk had taken some of Walter's things might be a good sign, that meant they might have other leads to follow once they went through it, but the fact that he had still shown up at the club the night before, after his trip to Dutch Harbor, didn't bode well.

"Was there anything that he might have missed?" She asked, refusing to give up easily.

"Oh hell I don't go through other people's stuff –" Geoff started to explain but Todd poked his head in the doorway and interrupted.

"He has a trunk on the Caramina."

Bonnie sat up straighter and turned to Todd. "Did Kirk see it?" She asked.

"I don't even think he went near it." The young man answered.

"Excellent, I need to take a look at it right away."

"That's probably not a good idea." Todd answered.

"Why?" She asked, concerned.

"Well if Kirk is considering you as a suspect it wouldn't be good for anyone to see you down at the boat poking around, especially if the pig decides to come back."

Bonnie nodded in agreement, Todd did have a point.

"I'll go get it for you." Geoff offered quickly.

"I'll go grandpa." Todd countered.

"I've got paperwork to sign for tomorrow anyway, I'll go. You stay here and keep Bonnie company." The old man stood and stretched out his legs.

"How long do you think the paperwork is going to take? Bonnie said she can't stay the night." Todd asked, handing his grandfather the keys to the old truck that he'd picked her up in.

"Oh not more than ... twenty minutes I'd guess. I'll be back within the hour."

"Thank you." Bonnie said sincerely just before her old friend stepped back out into the cold.

"Can I get you something to drink while you wait?" Todd offered once he'd gone.

She nodded, still lost in her thoughts and he disappeared back into the kitchen but Bonnie was too preoccupied to hear him lock and bolt the door.

"Here you go." He set two beer bottles on the small, flimsy coffee table in front of her and sat next to her on the sofa.

"Are you really upset over Walter or just worried that they'll find a way to pin it on you?" He asked, brushing the tail of her scarf away from her shoulder.

"Both." She sighed, wringing her hands.

"It's going to be ok; I know you didn't do it." He said, lowering his voice and reaching up to gently stroke one of her horns.

She pulled back, brushing his hand away lightly. "What are you doing?"

"It's ok, no one else is here. You don't have to pretend anymore." As he spoke he leaned closer, forcing her to lean away.

"What are you talking about Todd?"

"I know why you really come here. Walter and the old man both think it's for them but I know the truth. You don't have to hide it from me. I want it too."

"Todd, stop it." She spoke sternly as he leaned in farther but her words only lit the fuse for the young man's delusions.

With a single jolt he was on top of her, pinning her wrists painfully to the sofa and pressing the weight of his body on hers. In a heartbeat she could break both of his arms and send him flying across the room but she didn't want to expose her strength if she didn't have to. She wanted desperately to talk him out of this instead – the last thing that she needed right now was another scandal.

"I'm a better fit for you. We're closer in age, for one thing, and I appreciate your ..." his gaze raked over her horns and facial piercings before he ducked his head and deeply sniffed at her chest, inhaling her scent "...uniqueness." He finished in a seductive whisper.

"Todd, this is not going to happen. Get off me." She ordered, speaking softly but with a firm quality to her tone.

"You want me Bonnie. I know it, you know it. Why not just give in to it?"

"Todd, I'm warning you."

"With Walter out of the way there's nothing left to stop us right? The old man doesn't have to know; I won't tell him if you don't and I can come to Anchorage as often as you want me to." He was pressing his face into her chest as he spoke, nipping at her through her white cable-knit sweater.

Her anger roiled at his words. "Todd, did you kill Walter?" It was all that she could too to keep from snapping his neck.

"Only because you asked me to." He replied, pressing his hips against her thigh.

"What? I did not!" She practically shouted, enraged by the accusation. Her mind reeled as she tried to remember if there'd ever been a time when she could have accidentally infected him. Could she have ever gotten too drunk to control herself?

"Todd, I am ordering you to get off of me right now!" She barked.

He shoved his weight against her wrists, making them ache.

"No! You want me, I know it!"

As he spoke, angry spittle flew from his lips and spattered her face. He definitely wasn't under her spell or he wouldn't have been able to defy her like that.

"You're wrong, Todd. I don't want you and I never have."

"Fuck you!" He screamed so loudly that she was sure the neighbors could hear him. "I've been living in hell for the past six months because I can't stop thinking about you! The way you come in here and flirt with me for days at a time and then you fuck my grandpa and just leave! Fuck you bitch!" He'd pinned both of her wrists with one hand and was now using the other to yank at her scarf and sweater in an attempt to remove them.

"That's it, I warned you." She grunted.

Todd was flung backward and to the side with enough force that he tumbled over the coffee table, tipping it over and knocking the beers to the floor in the process. Bonnie sat up quickly, hoping that her actions would have knocked some sense into him.

"What the fuck was that?" He screeched, scrambling to his feet.

"I'm sorry Todd but you wouldn't listen." She bent to right the coffee table and pick up the spilled beer bottles. "Bring me a towel from the kitchen so I can clean up this mess." She continued, not looking up at him.

She didn't see that his face was a twisted mixture of rage and terror or that he'd pulled a knife from the back pocket of his jeans and flipped it open. She didn't realize that it wasn't over until she heard him scream before he began rushing toward her. She lifted her head and put her hands up to stop him. A brief moment before the impact she even saw, in his eyes, that he tried to stop himself, but it was too late. She felt the tension in her neck and heard the sickening squish as he gored himself on her horns. His body started to sag as he went into shock and she quickly pushed him away and then scrambled to his side as he fell back on the floor.

Blood gurgled from his lips and tears welled in her eyes as she pressed her hands against his wounds, desperate to stop the bleeding, but there was nothing that she could do.

"Todd nooooo. C'mon kiddo. Don't die." She cried softly.

Her nostrils flared as a long forgotten, yet familiar scent wafted through the air, reminiscent of an old gym bag and a field of lilacs at the same time. Humans couldn't smell it but Bonnie knew exactly what it was. As Todd's soul began leaking from his nostrils in thin, white tendrils of smoke that were invisible to the human eye, Bonnie leaned close to him and allowed her lips to part hungrily after almost ten years of sobriety.

SIX

"Bonnie!"

Kirks voice floated to her up the staircase even as she heard the front door slam. She'd left Dutch Harbor immediately, before Geoff could come home and find his grandson's body. She'd returned to her condo and was frantically throwing everything that she could into her travel bags. She might have been innocent of Walter's murder but Todd's death was her fault and it would be all-too-easy for the authorities to figure out the murder weapon and pin both deaths on her. It was time to leave.

Kirk's footsteps were taking the stairs two at-a-time and, judging by his breathing, he had even more bad news for her. She didn't look up when he burst through the doorway but, to her surprise, he took one look and immediately started helping her pack.

"Jill called my captain when I didn't come home last night." He gasped as he stuffed her bloody scarf into one of the bags. She quickly devised that Jill was his pregnant wife and patiently removed the scarf, tossing it on the floor between the bed and the wall.

"He sent a patrol out to look for me but they didn't know where to look. He threatened to take me off the case if I didn't tell him where I was all night." He continued.

"Did you?" She asked, only half-caring about the answer.

"Of course not." He sounded appalled but continued without missing a beat. "So I'm off the case. They gave it to Schreider and I'm telling you, Bonnie, she's a monster. He ordered me to give her all of my case files but I pretended that I was having computer problems to stall for time."

"I can't pack any faster." She growled, zipping up the first bag and throwing it toward the doorway.

"That's not all. Twenty minutes ago a call came in from Dutch Harbor. A neighbor found Todd dead in Geoff's living room and said that she saw you leaving the house earlier this morning. They're putting together a warrant right now."

"I guess one bag will have to do." She spat, dropping everything that she'd been trying to cram into her second bag and stomping into her closet. Ten years of hard work and dedication were falling apart around her ankles and she wouldn't even have time to take her damn wardrobe.

"What are you doing now?" He asked, still cramming clothes into her second bag, but she ignored him.

She swept away a curtain of crisply pressed satin blouses and tugged on the front of her shoe shelf until it separated from the back wall of her closet, just enough that she could slip her hand into the crack. A moment later she retrieved a long, roughly woven and age beaten crimson scarf.

"What's that?" He asked, finally stopping to look at her.

He watched as she spread the scarf out gently in her fingertips and draped it around the back of her neck. With practiced expertise she lifted the middle section of it high over her head and slowly lowered it over her horns. With a touch of magic the fabric woven from Valkyrie hair slowly descended toward her scalp, seemingly dissolving her horns as they vanished beneath it. Kirk's eyes grew wide as he watched but he only grinned appreciatively once the transformation was complete and she was tucking the ends around her neck to secure them.

"Brilliant!" He exclaimed. "Now we'll make it to Tahiti for sure! They'll be looking for a woman with horn implants so no one will ever suspect you like this!"

Bonnie examined her reflection in the mirror. By all accounts she was just your average human woman with a taste for extreme tattoos and piercings, but wearing the scarf over her head for the rest of her life wasn't going to be an option.

"We have to go. As soon as they get the warrant signed they'll be on their way over here." He said.

Bonnie turned to face Detective Kirk once more, a sad expression on her face.

"I don't even know your first name." She whispered, stepping toward him and placing her palm lightly on his cheek.

"It's Michael." He said quickly, basking under her gaze.

"Michael, thank you for everything that you've done for me. Last night was the most fun that I've ever had in my life ... but I can't take you with me."

His face fell and he gripped her free hand in both of his. "Why not?"

Without answering she moved her palm from his cheek to his throat, curled her fingers around his windpipe, and began to squeeze. His eyes went wide with shock and she stepped toward him until he fell backward across the bed. She fell on top of him without losing her grip, her eyes welling with tears once more as he struggled and jerked beneath her.

"You were perfect." She whispered, close to his ear. "I won't forget you." At last his protests finally ceased and his eyes rolled vacantly to the side. She poised her lips above his mouth and waited for his soul.

*****

Mexico City, Mexico

In a filthy little clinic on the outskirts of the city a nurse arrived to work one morning, only to discover the lifeless body of her boss – Romero Martinez, FRCS(Plas) – draped over his own examination table. The murder weapon, a large amber-colored horn, was protruding from the wound in Romero's chest and another lay a few feet away on the floor. Local police had no leads but Diana would remain convinced that his death was the work of la bruxa do diabo.

*****

Rio De Janeiro, Brazil

"E agora o momento você tem tudo que espera!"

Inside La Bichano Picante the lights went dark and the club erupted in cheers as a tall, exotic looking woman stood bathed by a red spotlight and covered from head-to-toe with tattoos. The soft chimes of a deep, haunting bell filled the room followed by a chorus of male voices chanting a slow, dark dirge.

About L. M. Smith

L.M. Smith is both an avid reader and writer. Her favorite authors include Kim Harrison and Richard Adams. She began writing stories and poetry as a child and has always been fascinated by mythology and the paranormal.

A self-proclaimed 'desert rat', she lives near Las Vegas, Nevada with the love of her life, their three dogs, and two cats. She is proud to be an alumna of the University of Phoenix and enjoys horseback riding, kayaking, and taking long walks with Vladimir: her Doberman Pinscher. While working on her next upcoming publication, her guilty pleasures include salt-and-pepper flavored sunflower seeds and cold, home-brewed coffee with Italian Sweet Cream ... though never at the same time because that would be yucky.

Facebook: <http://www.Facebook.com/AuthorLMSmith>

Thank You for Reading

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