The House Of Whoosher... ;-)

[Scrappy Amazon]

She awoke slowly from her dreamless sleep. It took time to become aware of her surroundings. This was an unusual occurrence for her. A lifetime of being on edge had taught her to awake quickly and take full stock of her immediate situation. But the sleep she had gained, partially from exhaustion, and partially from the spell Dixie had cast on her, had allowed her to relax for the first time in years.

Her first thought as she came into wakefulness was of Dixie. That spell, both the physical one and the mental one, were definitely something she wanted to explore. She couldn’t do that without talking to her first.

She opened her eyes and looked out the window that she had been staring out of when she fell asleep. The only evidence left that it had snowed were the ice crystals slowly growing up the window causing an impressive display of fractal elegance. It was still dark but she could just make out a thin sliver of light gray on the horizon. Another few hours and the sun would be up and another day in House O’ Hell would begin. “Well looks like it’s going to be a cold and wet day.”

Slowly she slid stiff legs from the bed and sat up in the chair. The quilt she had thrown over Dixie now lay across her chest. She scanned the room as her eyes adjusted to the light. The bed was empty. “Damn, slipped through my fingers again. Ah well, I have other things to do anyway.” She stood up and began a long feline like stretch to sooth sore muscles. She made her way to the bathroom telling herself to remember to look for a personal gym in the house.

She leaned on the counter and examined her face in the mirror. Heavy bags shown under her eyes. A product of stress and lack of sleep. “Not as bad as last night but certainly not up to your usual standard either.” She ran her hand through her hair as she tried to summon the energy to face the day. “Ah, well another day another nightmare.”

She fished around in her bag for her toothbrush, and even though it was still technically the middle of the night she went through her usual morning routine in short order then headed back to the bed room. Looking around for her boots she decided against putting them on right away. There was nothing like padding around in your bare feet first thing in the morning. Instead she grabbed them up, stuffed a pair of socks down inside then made her way downstairs to the Library.

The floor was cold but she didn’t regret leaving off the boots. As she reached the bottom of the stairs she decided against rifling the creepy kitchen for coffee and headed straight for her original goal. She slid back the heavy wooden pocket doors and inhaled the scent of old books. This was her passion. Reading and learning. She knew how she was perceived; badass, dumb biker chick. She often surprised people with her ability to quote Shakespeare and discuss religion with ease.

She tossed her boots on the floor and made her way to the shelves across the room. She scanned the spines looking for the books on mental list she had compiled. After selecting a few more important volumes for her research she flopped down into one of the overstuffed chairs and began to read. The answers she needed were here. She just had to find them.

[Phalon]

She looked down at the woman lying on the floor and saw an aura of otherworldliness surrounding her. Freebird reeked of the history of this place; ghostly images of those since gone clung to her like leeches cling to skin and refuse to let go. She quickly looked at Joxie and Guru to see if they saw it too. Nothing that revealed they did shone in their expressions. If either of them sensed the ghosts that hovered here, they kept it concealed for reasons unknown…..and Phalon knew at least one of them was very good at keeping things concealed.

Glancing over to Guru, she raised her eyebrow. He was like a pendulum. In the short time she’d been here, the emotions and actions he’d displayed swayed back and forth, from one extreme to the other...trembling with emotion as he was the first time she’d seen him, and yet, the majority of the time; completely business-like and no-nonsense. Compassionate, but also a would-be murderer. HA! She’d foiled those plans when she came back, she mused. Or was he a murderer? There were still those unexplained ugly images of him standing over the dismembered woman with a bloodied sword in his hand - the same woman whose picture he had longingly stared at. And it was that same sword, she knew, which he’d used to pin her to the wall just moments ago. But yet, he didn’t do anything more than hold her there, even when earlier he’d been so willing to blast her into oblivion. Such complexity for one who seemed so calm on the exterior. Then, there was this matter of healing himself. She couldn’t figure him out, and it infuriated her.

“Huh? What happened?” The voice drew her attention away from him, and she knelt down next to Freebird, whose eyes had opened. Guru kneeled on the other side, and said something to her. Freebird nodded in response, and Phalon guessed he had asked her if she was alright. Joxie had moved a chair from against the wall and pulled it behind them. Guru took Freebird’s arm on his side, and nodded towards Phalon to do the same on hers, intending to help Freebird into the chair. Clenching her teeth, she braced herself. ‘Here it comes’, she thought as she placed her hands around Freebird’s arm.

In this room was a woman who looked so similiar to Freebird, it could have been her, except the manner of dress and hairstyle was wrong…different then the way the rest of them in this place were dressed - older, as if from a time since passed. She sat in a chair, her back resting against one chair arm, and her legs thrown over the other. She sipped wine from a glass while making notations in a book she held in her lap. Flames from an oil lantern were reflected in the silver ring on her finger, making it appear to glow as she turned the pages of the book. Now a man, standing over her, saying, “It’s your turn to die.” Screams, and the woman fled up the stairs. A broken wine glass, and a blood-red wine stain spread across the pages of the book.

“Uhm, Phalon?” Joxie brought her back to the present, and she helped Guru lift Freebird into the chair. Her mind wasn’t in the present though – it was in the past. Her past. And her ring. She ran her finger over it, tracing the thick strands of silver twisted in a never-ending knot. It was left to her by her great aunt Eurayle, a powerful seeress also known as Aislin Saorla. Queen of Dreams. It was Aislin Saorla’s ring. It was now her ring. And it was the same ring as the woman wore in the vision she’d just had. Over and over, Phalon traced the knot with her finger, until she was taken somewhere else.

There were two figures in a forest clearing. One lay slumped on the ground motionless. The other knelt next to her; tawny hair shining red-gold in the sunlight – a child sobbing over the dead body of her mother. The girl took her mother’s lifeless hand in her own and kissed it, before slowly removing from it a ring of silver. Placing the ring on a chain she wore around her neck, her amber colored tear-filled eyes already started to turn cold.

The features were older; sharper, and more hardened now. But the eyes remained the same. Phalon knew those eyes. Leaning down to Freebird, the only person in this room who could understand her language, she said, “Whether you all are done here or not, I have to get back to the house. There’s someone there…something I must see.” The other woman nodded, and Phalon added, “Oh, and listen Freebird…if you happen to run into something upstairs with a mouth full of rotted teeth, that possibly could be a man, but who I’m sure is not…” She glanced in Guru’s direction. “Tell him to use the lightning bolts. The sword is useless in this case.”

She straightened and as she turned to leave, Guru said something to her. Not harsh, or inquisitive – neither a command, nor question – but merely a comment; an observation of some sort and she wondered what it was.

She thought she’d try again…differently this time – a kind of peace offering. Bad judgment on her part, to offer the fruit in such a manner the first time around. Lesson learned, perhaps. She plucked the apple from the tip of her sword, then tossed it in Guru’s direction. She heard, rather than saw him catch it, as she was already entering the staircase when the contact was made. And judging from the lack of lightning bolts or swords entering her back, he’d learned something about her too…..perhaps.

[guru]

It was time to do some serious rethinking. In the dining room the woman with the sword dissolved when blasted by the ion gun. She had to be a spirit. But ghosts don't eat. And ghosts can't be pinned to the wall. Something happened to make her solid. He had never seen this before and considered the possibility their enemy may have some new tricks up its sleeve.

Guru wanted to say something ... to make sure there was no residue of tension, but she was leaving and caught him in mid-thought. He spoke the observation that convinced him to make peace.

"If you were a ghost, your fingers wouldn't smell like chicken."

Her reply was silent and confusing - she tossed him the apple.

'A Rome apple. Rome? That's it! That's where I've seen her sword before!'

His thoughts were interrupted by a question from behind him.

"What in the blue hell are you doing with a sword?!"

[Phalon]

She walked out of the cottage into a world of silver. It had snowed during the time she was inside…just a dusting, and the ground was too warm for much of it to remain except for small patches beneath the trees which were dotted along the path leading to the main house, and larger strips of it running parallel to the edge of the forest.

The Moon Goddess, Selene, had not quite yet conceded her nightly appearance to her sister, Eos, goddess of Dawn, and it would be awhile before both disappeared and their brother Sun, Helios took over to light the day. It was Selene who still had reign over the sky now, and her silvery light cast blue-gray shadows from the trees on the remaining clumps of snow, making them appear the color of Phalon’s steel blade. Brighter were the flashes of the moon’s reflection on the rippling waves of the sea….flashes of polished silver, like that of her ring.

Sword and ring…both were objects that seemed connected to this place and she wondered if either, or both were the reason she was brought here - out of place and out of time amongst these people. For, she was sure, there had to be a reason, because if not, none of this made sense.

She bent down and scooped a handful of the snow, and staring at it flat in her hand, marveled at the icy crystals she held. She’d only seen snow once or twice in her lifetime, and though she knew there were places on earth were it was a common occurrence; in Greece it was not. Its presence there served as a warning from the gods that mortals were interfering in things they should have left alone. And this place, if nowhere else, would surely make the gods angry; the people here seeming to play with mortality as if it were something that they, themselves could decide…herself included.

She closed her hand tight around the snow, squeezing until the cold burned painfully, and the warmth from her skin turned it to water dripping from between her fingers. The pain she felt and the warmth of her hand meant that she was alive – something she was obviously not when she first came here. How did she overcome death then, and reappear out of the void between this place and hers alive? She thought she knew.

It was that one step that she took into the bright meadow of her youth…her foot barely crossing the threshold before Scrappy’s screams had filled her head, and she made the choice to return. She wondered if she would ever stand at that threshold again, and have that same choice laid in front of her…to remain, or return; and watching a silver droplet of water hang suspended from her ring, wondered if the choice was ever hers to make. Again, there had to be a reason for all this - a reason they were all somehow conncected.

The answers lay in the house though, and not out here in the waning moonlight. She hurried up the path to find the ring of silver that matched her own and discover what explanations were contained within the knots.

[Becka]

After walking through the house a little she thought it was odd that she didn't run into anyone. Oh well she thought they are probably doing their own thing. She decided to go to the library and finally pick up her packet. She walked to the library and saw a woman sitting in a chair engrossed in her reading. Carly decided not to disturb her just yet and went and retrieved her packet. She took a look around the library at all the books she wished she had time to read. There are things to be done in this house that didn't include reading a bunch of books. Since the woman in the corner was the first person she encountered she decided to try to get her attention. Carly thought it was strange that she hadn't noticed her come in. Must be a good book she thought. Instead of trying to scare her right away Carly decided to try an experiment. She lifted her hand and chose a book near the woman. She moved her hand and the book fell to the floor with a crash. The woman didn't even bat an eye. Well I guess I'll move to plan B Carly thought. She walked up to the woman and tapped her on the shoulder. The woman looked up with a look of surprise. "Hi. I'm Carly. What's your name?"

[Scrappy Amazon]

Scrappy sat in the big overstuffed chair, bare feet resting comfortably on the cold low table. She pulled what she thought was the oldest book off the top of the stack . The title on the cover read “Fallon Family Genealogy”. She had known almost from the beginning that she was connected to this house and this book seemed to confirm it. Fallon was her mother’s maiden name.

She ran her hand over the hard wooden cover plate. The scroll work on the leather binding looked to be hand tooled and gave off the rich aroma of knowledge and age. The silver Triquetra embedded in the cover was slightly tarnished and cold to the touch. Force of habit caused her to reach down and begin to play with the heavy silver ring attached to a chain around her neck.

The unending circle knotted in a pattern like intertwining lovers. All lines and curves. One beginning where the other left off. The meaning of the knot work was lost to her now. Buried among the other secrets her mother had held. The last thing her mother had given her. Or the last thing she had taken from her mother after she had ended her life. Scrappy looked up from the aged and fragile book and let the memory come. It slid in like a cold knife between her ribs.

A light breeze blew across the meadow and ruffled Scrappy’s hair as she knelt by her mother’s now dead body. The long silver sword protruding from her chest. She pulled out the offending object and flung it into the woods as far as she could. She cradled her mother’s head in her lap, wet salty tears mixing with wet salty blood. She leaned forward and sobbed into her mother’s now deaf ear. “I’m sorry momma, I didn’t mean to, please don’t be dead. Please….I’m sorry.”

She sat like that for a long time, sobbing, until exhaustion finally took her and she fell asleep hunched over her mother’s body still cradling her head. The next thing she remembered were work roughened but gentle hands gripping her under her arms and lifting her into a standing position. Scrappy looked around her. The sun was just sinking below the tree line causing the forest to look like it had been set ablaze. Workman from the manor were carefully covering the bodies and laying them in carts to be transported to the house.

In a haze of shock and exhaustion Scrappy was barely aware as one of the men, a gentle giant, she remembered, removed a ring from her mothers hand, the very same she now wore around her neck, and placed it in her own. Curling her fingers around it, he spoke softly to her, “It will be alright child, all that was hers is yours now.” His warm calloused hand held onto hers. In the instant she looked up into his eyes it happened. Flashes of images. Some from the ring, some from this man, flew into her head like a flock of migrating birds. Too many to number separately.

This man having a meal at an old wooden table. The ring being passed from one woman to the next through many lifetimes, only pieces of lifetimes long passed. The man again working in a field, a woman tied to a stake, flames licking at her feet. A woman in blue, long sword in her hand, cutting a path of destruction though a field of soldiers. There were too many at once. The pain seared through her head like lightening on a hot summer evening. Scrappy dropped to her knees stifling a scream, the ring still clutched in her hand.

Scrappy came back to reality with a sigh. “Focus Scrappy. You have work to do. Let the past be.”

---

Edited to get image to show up. ~Mini-Mia / Joxcee

[dixielandyankee]

Dixie woke with jump and, propping herself up on her elbows, took in the dimly lit room in one long glance. It was still dark...still? She didn't know how long she had been asleep, nor how long it had been night time. She judged that it was the early hours of the morning as the moon was faintly visible through the slit in the heavy curtains and the light outside was pale and glooming. She eased herself into a sitting position and twisted her neck to one side, it issued an audible crack and Dixie winced, "Damn this bed is uncomfortable" she scolded, to the room.

She blinked a couple of times and took in the sight of Scrappy, somewhat cleaner than when she had last seen her, slumped in an easy chair, her boots propped up on one corner of the bed. She looked peaceful, Dixie suspected that the effects of her spell were still in evidence as Scrappy had managed to sleep through her bumpy awakening and her subsequent conversation with the room!

She pushed the blanket from her and drew her knees up, the room was chilly and the fire seemed to have gone out some time ago. Her stomach growled, telling her that it might be time for breakfast. The interrupted meal of a few hours earlier hadn't done much to appease her hunger and she thought she might slip out and try to find some breakfast for her and Scrappy. 'Not much point in waking her' she mused as she clambered from the bed and smoothed her rumpled shirt. 'I think it might be time for a change of clothes though', she thought as she surveyed her appearance from the neck down. She scrunched her eyes up thoughtfully, wondering if she could remember where she had left her travel bag.

"Ah" she exclaimed, "the hall!". It seemed impossibly long since she had set foot in this place and merry hell had been unleashed, and she couldn't quite believe that her bag would be where she had left it. Rubbing her arms she scampered to the door and eased it open. The corridor beyond was dark and she reached for her wand, muttering "Lumos". The familiar orb of light appeared and she slipped out into the gloom. She could see the top of the long flight of stairs ahead and she trotted towards them and down into the hallway. She didn't feel like wasting much time in the eerily silent grand entrance hall, there was no sign of life from any of the rooms nearby and she darted across to the door and collected her bag. Noticing that there was still some light emanating from the library she pushed open the door. There was no one in the room beyond but the fire was still burning low in the grate. She slipped off her shirt and pulled a fresh one from her bag, then underwear, jeans and a soft roll-neck jumper. Once changed she stuffed the other clothes back into the bag and shouldered it. She headed out of the library again, feeling a strange vibration creep down her spine she turned back again and surveyed the room. Definitely empty. As she turned to wards the door again and out into the foyer she did not notice the flames in the grate fan higher and burn more fiercely, nor did she see the friendly orange colour disappear and the fire begin to burn a chilly blue.

After the brightness of the library, the hall seemed very dark. Dixie's hand reached for her wand, and patted thin air. A rush of adrenaline clutched her heart. "Shit", she stood very still and took a deep breath, willing her eyes to adjust more to the darkness. She could see the faint outline of the pale staircase and a cold shiver ran across her skin. Breathing deeply again she concluded that her wand must have slipped out of its holster whilst she was changing and she turned a full 360 degrees back to the library door. Pushing it open she noticed that the light was faint and strange in the room, it was another split second before she noticed that there was a figure standing in front of the fire place, a man, with his back to her and his hands folded in front of him.

A feeling came over Dixie...and it was not good. As she stood, peering silently at the floor, trying to locate her wand without disturbing the figure, it moved and began to turn towards her. 'Crap, crap, crap', she shouted in her head as she realised he held in his thin, bony hands...her wand. There were certain incantations she could perform without its help, but she was tired in body and mind from the day already spent in this house and she needed that wand to make anything work right now.

"That's mine", she said stupidly as her eyes moved from the long fingers to the dark, stained sleeves of the coat he wore and then further up, to the neck of the shirt through whose ragged edges she could see grey, mottled flesh. Steeling herself, she raised her eyes to his face and stepped back with a horrified intake of breath. The cheeks were white and gaunt and the eyes blazed with a bloodshot, blue aura. The cracked lips parted to reveal rotten, jagged teeth as he smiled a cruel knowing grin.

"And you, little girl, are mine!" uttered the rasping voice as the figure darted towards her, without warning, hardly seeming to brush the floor. The air around her throat closed in, compressing her windpipe as she tried to scream for help...Scrappy's help...but nothing came out. The creature...for he was a creature and not a man any longer...bore down on her, warming her face with its fetid breath and the room grew dizzying and cloudy. "She may think she can defeat me", rasped the voice, "but I will take that which she loves once again, in this life as in every other, and she will know that she can never escape"

Blackness enveloped Dixie's mind and she could feel her body going limp, and she could no longer struggle. And her last conscious thought, was of Scrappy and a whisper of a time long ago, and she cried out to her to save her once more.

[Joxcenia]

Joxcee found a corner to hide in to stay out of the way of the investigation and interaction going on, she was only here as an observer and didn’t want to influence any of the others. Even though any helpfulness from her wouldn’t have affected the outcome of this contest anyway, since the winner was the last one to remain, not the one to solve the mystery of this haunted mansion. The mystery could remain a mystery as far as she was concerned. And hopefully this attitude would see her through the hauntings. Perhaps the ghosts would leave her alone if she left it, them, alone.

Note to self… If you ever get talked into doing this again, insist on security guards and metal detectors at all entrances and exits. Me being here with others who have weapons is NOT an option that I will allow to happen ever again. Oh, yeah, and any future “haunting” conventions will have to include cast members of the RenPics television shows… lets see if Lucy is as tough as Xena when it comes to a real haunting, or if Reneé is the real “kick butt heroine” when dealing with these harrowing incidents. Sheesh! At least if Hudson were here right now, I could be doing yoga to calm my frazzled nerves.

Joxcee wanted to run and hide when she saw the swords, but her feet wouldn’t move. She wanted to shield her eyes, but then she wouldn’t be able to see who was threatened next, and if it was her she wanted to have a chance to escape. When all ended well, she sighed with relief, only to gasp when she realized that the strange woman who had drug her here was leaving without her. How can she do that to me? Why didn’t she just leave me in the dining room where I was safely away from all of them? What is going to happen to me now? How do I get back to the mansion? Oh woe is me… if only the raven would come rapping at the door and distract everyone while I snuck off out a window or side door.

“What in the blue hell are you doing with a sword?!”

Joxcee turned to see a very irate Mrs. Peacock, her eyes piercing deep into Guru’s soul. If this were a cartoon, no doubt there would be smoke bellowing from her ears, and flames would be shooting out of her mouth as she opened it to utter each word. Oh great, it just keeps getting better and better. Now, how do I get away before one of them murders the other? And how did Mrs. Peacock enter the room when there are no doors behind her? She must have used a secret entrance, one that perhaps goes underground and ends back up at the mansion? I won’t have to go outside and fear getting lost and freezing to death. Funny how rain can turn into snow in a matter of minutes, how it can be warm and then the winds blow up a frigid, cold air front. How Mrs. Peacock’s eyes can turn an otherwise warm room into a freezer.

Joxcee searched the wall behind Mrs. Peacock, trying to get an idea of just where the hidden door could be. At first opportunity she was going to get inside the hidden passageway and head for the mansion, her room, and safety. Okay, hopefully, her room would offer her sanctuary from any harm the mansion and its occupants could cause her. With this mission on her mind, she braced herself for the right moment to take action.

[LoyalMinion]

My master came to me today. He shared with me a brief glimpse of what he has planned for this group of people. His plan to exact a multitude of lifetimes worth of revenge. It is so perfect in it’s simplicity that it cannot fail. I have my orders. I know what I must do. In a few minutes I must remove myself from this house. This haven and harbor that had grown to be like a second skin and I its life blood.

He has given me a part to play. One more important than observer. I must get myself to the altar and await their arrival. He is sure they are about to find the missing pieces he needs them to find. The link to the other lives that they will need to motivate them. The drive they will need to get them where he wants them.

And if the information he has provided isn’t enough, he has gained himself some insurance. As I look upon the face of the woman he has brought me I doubt my master. If only for a moment. I wonder she is enough to bring them. Enough to stir the rage he needs to force them into making a mistake. We shall see. For now I must be about my task.

[Scrappy Amazon]

She returned her attentions to the task at hand and began flipping through the yellowed pages. Fearing even her breath would damage the delicate paper she held the pages gingerly between two fingers.

The first page contained a key of sorts, hand written in elegant script. It laid out the symbols used for marriage and sibling relationships throughout the book. One symbol which matched the Triquetra on the cover, said it was meant to represent “Female Heirs of Power”.

She carefully turned to the next page. Dates at the bottom read “Circa 104 BC to 5 BC” Isn’t that interesting. She mused silently to herself. Seems like someone has been keeping track of my family for a very long time. What was even more interesting though was half way down on the page. The name of the mysterious woman in the blue robes. Phalon. And it also indicated that she was one of these Heirs of Power. Dang, she must be pretty old by now….she chuckled slightly to herself.

I wonder…she said out loud to no one in particular. Carefully but quickly she began flipping through the pages again. Skipping pages filled with generation upon generation. All very interesting she was sure but not what she was looking for. She stopped at a page labeled “Circa 1559 AD to 1630”. There it was. Elizabeth and Titania. The dream was beginning to get a little fuzzy but this she remembered at least. The names of the women who had borne their souls before.

Out of curiosity she thumbed her way to the last page of the large book. The last two were stuck together, almost as if the ink hadn’t dried when the book was closed for the last time. She gingerly unstuck the pages and revealed what she was looking for. There she was, on the last page recorded along with her parents. Recorded she supposed for posterity.

Well now that I have that answer. . . She laid the large book on the low coffee table, face up and open to the last page, and reached for another from the stack. A small soft sided brown leather book, tied together with old and cracked leather cording. Her attempt at untying it only served to disintegrate the leather. Note to self: Be less ham-fisted.

She started to open the book more carefully when another one went flying off the stack she had made. Another note to self…be more careful where you put your feet. She went back to reading the little diary when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Scrappy nearly shot out of her skin. It was very unusual for anyone to be able sneak up on her. She craned her neck around and stared up at the tall dark haired woman.

"Hi. I'm Carly. What's your name?"

Scrappy stood and extended a hand. I’m Scrappy. You must be one of the late arrivals. Man have you missed a lot.”

---

Edited to get images to show up. Nothing else was tampered with. ~Mini-Mia

[Phalon]

She opened the heavy door to the house and stepped into the foyer. She shuddered though it should have felt warmer in here, protected from the cold and wind, than it did outside. But outside…outside under the sky, and near the sea she didn’t feel so far away from home. Within the walls of this wretched house, though, there was no mistaking she was so far removed from her place in time that it seemed improbable she’d ever return. And what then? What would happen to her if she’d be forced to live out her existence in this place – a place where she did not belong?

She pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind…she’d left the others in the cottage so abruptly for a reason – to confirm what she already knew, and she needed to find Scrappy to do that. Crossing the tiled floor, she started towards the staircase leading up to the room where she’d left Dixie and Scrappy. Muffled voices coming from behind the library door stopped her, and she turned around. A thin sliver of light appeared under the door, and walking towards it, she thought she could make out the sound of Scrappy’s voice.

Stepping into the room she saw that one of the voices did belong to Scrappy, and the other belonged to a tall young woman. Standing together talking, they stopped when she entered, and turned towards her. Arched brows over violet eyes told Phalon the woman did not know what to make of her – long robe adorned with baubles and trinkets, sword in hand, and hair whipped by the wind, looking, she was sure, like something the Furies had toyed with. Sigh. Long story, she thought, to try to explain why her appearance was so different then those here; unbelievable, and one that even she could not fathom.

She almost laughed as she watched Scrappy stammer something Phalon would have loved to understand; an explanation, she guessed from Scrappy’s confused facial expressions, as to who she was. “Carly, this is Phalon. She…she…uhm…she’s from ancient Greece. I think she may be dead, or something…a spirit, but I haven’t figured that out yet. And, oh yeah – she probably wants to talk to me, and the way we do that is a bit odd too. Hang tight, and we’ll be right with you.”

That said, Scrappy turned her attention from Carly, and towards her. “Phalon?”

Giving the newcomer a smile and a brief nod, Phalon crossed the room and stood in front of Scrappy, who fingered a ring on a thin chain around her neck; aimlessly and not aware she was doing it - much like the same way Phalon often twisted her ring around her finger or traced the silver threads that made up the knot; a habit, like twisting strands of hair around her finger, that she did when she was lost in thought.

She reached out and enclosed both Scrappy’s hand and the ring within hers. Her other hand – the hand on which she wore her ring, she raised and held in front of Scrappy’s face, watching the recognition register in amber eyes as they darted towards the ring encircling Phalon’s finger.

"You and I....we are connected. How?” Phalon said the words in her mind.

Scrappy planted her bare feet on the cold wood floor defiantly, her eyes challenging Phalon; amber eyes searching green for deception. Breaking her hand free from Phalon’s, she quickly removed a glove and grasped Phalon's hand hard within her own. "Where did you get that? Is this some kind of joke?" The voice in Phalon’s head rang with accusation.

"It is no joke. The ring was given to me by my Great Aunt...something she wanted me to have after she'd died. She saw things....like I see things… and like you see things. You must see things….we must be connected in this way somehow, otherwise how could I speak to you like this…through touch and thought? I can read others sometimes through a simple touch, whether it be intentional or not – the things they feel, or might have done or will do, but never have I been able to communicate in this way.”

Phalon watched Scrappy’s guard ease a bit; shoulders held less tight, her eyes lost the confrontational glare, and the grip she had on her hand slackened so that it was held firmly but without pressure. The beginnings of trust, perhaps? "I found your name in a family history. This ring," she said, holding up the chain, "was my mother's. What does it mean?"

“Your mother – she was a seeress also?” Phalon asked.

"My mother held secrets that she died for. No one would tell me what they were but I have struggled with my gift all my life since then and I suspect she had the same power." Again, though no words where spoken, Phalon thought she could feel defiance, as if Scrappy felt she had something to prove – perhaps more to herself than to anyone else.

Not wanting to lose any of the trust she felt she might have gained, Phalon changed course. “And the family history? My name appears in some such book?”

A heap of books where stacked unevenly on a low table, and Scrappy now knelt in front of it. Phalon did the same, kneeling next to her. Removing a heavy, leather bound book from the stack, Scrappy lifted the cover, and carefully turned the first few brittle pages. Grasping Phalon’s hand again she said, pointing with her finger of her free hand. “Here.”

Phalon looked at Scrappy, shaking her head, “I can’t read this.”

“Here…see – this is how you spell your name in English - P H A L O N. And up here,” She moved her finger up the page, “this must be your mother and father. And here - your brother, his wife and his children. What was that Aunt’s name? The one who gave you the ring? There’s a symbol that the key says represents the heirs next to your name, and also hers. This is your family tree.”

"This is my family?” Now it was her turn to be caught unaware. Suddenly finding it hard to swallow, she ran her fingers across the words on page, trying to soak up the warmth of the people she loved just by touching their names. Their images flooded her mind and she bit her tongue to keep the tears from coming. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let herself take one last look at them before she reluctantly moved on. She sighed, and opened her eyes to answer Scrappy’s question. "Eurayle...my great aunt Eurayle...also called ‘the Queen of Dreams’, a name bestowed upon her by a people from a place other than my own.” She paused, thinking for a moment, before continuing, “Do you dream, Scrappy?"

“Everyone dreams, Phalon. Of course, I do.”


"But do you dream when you're awake. Do you "see" things that happen, or things that may happen? What have you dreamt while in this place?"

“Since I was ten I have been able to "see" things by touching objects. Most of the time I see where they have been or who has handled them. Sometimes, though very rarely, I see where they are going to be or who will have them in the future. When I held that pot I saw you, but I think that had more to with the fact that you were standing right there and your energy was very agitated. Last night, at dinner, after I was attacked and unconscious I had a dream about when my mother was killed, then I dreamed about where I think my soul was in the past. What do you see when you 'dream'?"

Phalon ignored the question for now…the details of her nightmares since she’d entered the house not mattering, except for the thing that brought them…him. And he, she thought, was a nightmare she and Scrappy may have in common. Why had he chosen Scrappy to attack in the dining room? And what place did he take her to in her mind. "You were attacked...it was him, wasn't it? He who attacked you in the dining room was the same who killed your mother? He was there also, when you were young, wasn't he?”

"I'm not sure. I didn't really get a look at the guy who stabbed me, but it must have been since that's where my vision went when the sword he was holding entered my back." She paused before continuing. Her next thought coming more hesitant, her eyes cautious again, “Why – why all these questions about something I’d rather not remember – that I’ve tried so hard to forget? And what’s this got to do with the rings?”

“The rings…I’m not sure…but see?” She pointed to the symbol in the book next to her name, and next to Eurayle’s; the symbol drawn long ago similar to the twisted silver that they both wore now, standing in this room. Scrappy said it appeared next to the heirs…but heirs of what? Heirs to the power, or heirs to the ring? Or were they the attached – one having something to do with the other. Euryale had the Sight, and passed the ring to Phalon. Scrappy’s mother had it, and now Scrappy wore the ring. Phalon ran her finger down the page containing her family’s history…there, the symbol appeared again, further down the page from her name. She closed her eyes for a moment…could this mean…..? Could it mean, she’d return home someday to pass her ring down to another? There was hope…and whether it be false or not, it was something she could cling to. Again, she pushed those thoughts away for now.

“Think, Scrappy, think. It’s important…rotten teeth in a twisted grin, hissing vile words that cut into your soul… Is he the same one?”

[Phalon]

Scrappy’s hands flew up to her temples, pressing hard and remembering… “YES! Yes, it was him, the demented son of a bit….” Though the physical contact between them was broken, Phalon did not need to hear her thoughts to understand the meaning of the audible words. Scrappy’s tone of voice, and the look in her eyes confirmed to Phalon what she had suspected.

She flipped to the back of the book laid out in front of them – to the last page. She took Scrappy’s hand again. “And this …read this page to me. It is you, isn’t it? The book – the family…it began in my time and ends in yours…just like him. He began with me – I killed him long ago when I was much younger, and he took something so precious from me that I can not fit it into words….” She ran her hand back through her hair, and sighed, “I don’t know…perhaps he was already dead when I stabbed the life out of him. He keeps coming back, it seems. And now you…he…it…ends with you. It has to – it has to end in this place. It is the reason we are here.”

She stood and brought the other woman to her feet with her, taking both of her hands now, and looking hard into her eyes. “It has to end, Scrappy. We have to make it so.” Dropping her hands, she turned and moved towards the hearth, wanting the warmth of the fire to remove the chill she felt just thinking about him. But how could this be accomplished? she thought to herself. The thing just wouldn’t die.

As she walked to the fire, she stepped on something. She bent to retrieve it. Clasping it in her hands, she gazed into the fire in front of her, to a point beyond the flames. Through the blaze she saw moonlight falling on a long piece of slate-gray stone resting on two low boulders of granite - moonlight filtered through branches bare except for the few remaining leaves refusing to let go; dead, but holding on as if clinging to life, making the slab it fell upon dance with eerie shadows like outstretched arms. Moss covered and worn smooth from age and weather, barely visible on the slab are etched runic symbols. An altar in the forest, and this is where she is.

She straightened, took Scrappy’s hand in her own again, and left there the thing she retrieved from the floor – Dixie’s wand. “Now he’s got her.”

[LoyalMinion]

Aiden stepped away from the high window and addressed the bound woman. “Well, shall we? I have places to be and you are to go with me.” She attempted to throw angry words at him through the gag. “Well, I can see you and I are never going to be friends.” Approaching her cautiously he made sure her hands were securely bound before hauling her to her feet. “Can’t have you attempting any of that Hocus Pocus on me now can we?”

Holding firmly onto a piece of her shirt at the shoulder Aiden dragged her to an innocuous looking piece of wall. Reaching up he pressed firmly on a knot in the wood paneling. To Dixie’s surprise a door shaped piece of paneling popped open. “After you my dear.” After shoving her through the doorway Dixie found herself at the top of a narrow spiraling staircase.

They made the bottom quickly and quietly despite her attempts to the contrary. Exiting through a hidden door behind set of shelves in the kitchen they exited through the side door and made their way in the dark to the place his master had told him to go. He was told to wait there. With this woman until the others came to rescue her. And then his master would begin the rest of his plan.

[Scrappy Amazon]

Scrappy looked down at the long slender piece of wood Phalon had handed her. She recognized it as Dixie’s wand immediately. In a panic, Phalon’s words sinking in, she grasped Phalon’s hand in an iron grip and looked into her eyes. Shooting the words into her mind in a painful flurry.

"Where is she? Can you see her?"

“No...no, I can't see her, but rather, I can feel her presence in a place in the forest...at a stone altar of some sort. Cold and shadowy. Listen, Scrappy - my visions are not always complete...and I often interpret them wrong. But....”

She didn’t want to hear excuses now. Her frustration level rising, she began to plead. "I have to help her. Tell me where to find this place. Help me, help her, please."

Continuing as if Scrappy hadn’t interrupted her, “...but, here, this vision - there is just so little to go on. The house seems to be surrounded by forest, closing it in, except for the wide openness the sea offers beyond the bluffs. I have no idea where to look.... How about you? Can you "see" anything by holding her wand?"

Scrappy closed her eyes and grabbed the wand. Attempting to force a vision was always a bad idea, but she had to take a chance. Fear driving her, she took a deep breath and waited.

’You can do this.’ she said to herself. The feeling was different. No energy exchange this time. No powerful draining of her strength. Nothing. Her fear and panic were overriding her gift. Only stilted images of two people in the Library and then in the forest. She couldn’t even be sure if it was Dixie, but somehow she knew anyway who it was.

"Phalon I can’t do it. All I can see is her here in the Library and that guy with the sword pulling her away. Sh!it! There must be something in this house that will tell me where he's taking her."

"Wait..." Phalon placed her hands over Scrappy's hand on the wand. "Maybe we can figure this out together? Two minds seeing together as one."

Scrappy closed her eyes again and grasped the wand between their hands. ‘Thank you Phalon.’

The images started to flow now. One after the other. Dixie in the Library, the guy with the rotten teeth grabbing her and taking her through a passage in the wall. Some other man, not the guy with the sword, dragging her tied form through the woods behind the cottage.

"They are heading for the woods behind the cottage let's go." Scrappy started out the library door grasping for her gun. A sudden sinking feeling filled her stomach as she found her holster gone. ‘Damn, I left it in the bathroom!’

"I have to go back and get my gun!" she yelled back at the pair. Scrappy ran out the door into the hallway mounting the steps two at a time bare feet pounding the wood stairs. "Damn my boots. How did this get so messed up. Are we ever going to have a moment of peace in this f**king house?”

Noticing Scrappy grasping for her missing holster Phalon shook her head. Assuming Scrappy was telling them she was going to get it. She wanted to call after her and tell her that her weapon would be of no use against that beast - but it was too late. Scrappy had already broken the contact, and severed the ties of communication. And, she thought as she drew her sword from its scabbard on her back, perhaps there was more out there than just him.

"She's coming back", Carly offered to Phalon.

Phalon smiled, guessing that Scrappy would be returning, and Carly was telling her as such. Actually it was unmistakable from the noise overhead coming from upstairs sounding like a herd of cattle that Scrappy had not left the house yet. She returned in a moment, and said something impatiently.

Finding her gun and holster where she left them, she straped them on quickly. At the last minute she grabbed her trench coat off the chair where she had flung it last night. Exiting her bed room she sprinted back down to the library to retrieve her boots. "I'm going, are you coming or not?" Forgetting that Phalon had no idea what the hell she was saying.

Carly nodded decisively and began to drag Phalon toward the door as Scrappy made for the entryway after sliding her boots on quickly. Scrappy looked over her shoulder to make sure they were coming and caught a look from Phalon…a hesitation as Carly grabbed her arm.

Scrappy stopped just outside the door as if to get her bearings and secretly brushed Phalon’s hand ‘What’s wrong?’

"Watch her, Scrappy. I'm not sure why yet - but be aware she might not be what she seems."

"Ok, I think they went through there. Let’s go.” And to Phalon alone she said ‘Thank you.’

[Becka]

Everything happened so quickly one moment she was trying to ask Scrappy what exactly she had missed in this mysterious house and then this new woman came in and she was trying to figure out how Scrappy and this woman communicated. If she let her mind bounce around to much she would get a major migraine. And if that happened who knows what would go flying around the room. She was studying this new woman and Scrappy hold each others hand not speaking but communicating somehow mentally. She had to find out what they were talking about if only to figure out this house. Just as Carly thought she might get to ask a few questions Phalon handed something to Scrappy. She handed her something that Carly couldn't quite make out, but as Scrappy looked at the item in her hand her face twisted into a look of panic. After that everything was a blur suddenly Scrappy was running upstairs for something and then coming back for Phalon and Carly. She was trying to get them to follow her. Phalon wasn't following so Carly grabbed her arm to pull her along Scrappy looked like she needed all the support she could get. As they were all leaving the library Carly spoke up,
"Umm guys, I have an idea. I could go let myself go to this altar and tell you what I see there. That way you have an idea of whether or not it is a trap. What do you think?"

[guru]

'It's a trap!'

That one thought rang out in Guru's mind like an air raid siren. Here was Mrs. Peacock appearing out of nowhere and appearing highly irate. Unless she had supernatural powers, there must be a passageway behind her. 'And what exactly are her duties in this dark little basement room under the guest house, anyway?'

Guru was starting to get perturbed. "I'm defending myself with this sword. Would you like a lesson?"

Even he was surprised by the venom in his voice. When he had to consciously stop his hand from reaching for the sword, he realized something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Maybe it was just a reaction to the look on her face. He quickly looked inward and hoped that was all it was. But just in case...

"We're going back to the house. We need to stay together."

That sentiment was not shared by all. Just as Mrs. Peacock leaned forward - proving her attention was riveted on Guru - Joxcee sprang into motion. Like a cheetah she darted from her corner and slipped through the narrow doorway. Gone.

"Joxcee! No!!"

Wasted words never echoed so loudly. But wasted time was Guru's main concern ... as was the safety of everyone in the accursed manor. He stepped forward and extended his arms to Freebird, and softly intoned in his best bedside-manner voice, "C'mon - I'll take you back to the library. We'll put our feet up and have snacks."

Mrs. Peacock had other ideas. "You will not touch the child!" And she moved forward to assist Freebird out of her chair.

'Curious choice of words,' Guru thought. He made a telling gesture of stepping back so as not to violate Mrs. Peacock's comfort zone.

As the women were leaving, Freebird glanced back over her shoulder and said, in a way that sounded like a plea for help, "You have the power of Zeus." Then they were gone.

He was alone. Mental checklist time.

'Gather evidence. Do a safety check. Leave no fires behind. Remember what Scrappy said about the history of this house.'

But on closer inspection, there was no fire ... no fireplace ... no electric light.

[Phalon]

There was no fire ... no fireplace ... no soft yellow glow from lighted fixtures once they stepped outside….but the still, peaceful morning air felt decidedly more settled than it did inside the house; the warm yellow and orange flames of sun just starting to appear on the horizon of the sea providing a feeling of warmth that the eerie flames in the hearths of this place never did. Dawn – and the dark violet night sky gave way to one streaked with gold.

A beautiful sunrise, but they did not have time to stop and enjoy it; the urgency of finding Dixie wiping out all else in their minds. Scrappy, one hand still free of its leather glove specifically for the purpose of being able to communicate with Phalon, grabbed her elbow. “Where do we start looking? There is just too much forest surrounding this place.”

Phalon looked around. The day’s first rays of sun sparkled on the little remaining snow along the tree-line to her left. On the other side of the immense span of yard, though – the side on which the cottage sat – the snow appeared gray; the forest dark and foreboding. A sign? She remembered the runes on the altar from the image shown her in the flames, and the sketches Guru made of the symbols in the room below the cottage. Similar; and perhaps the cottage and the altar were in close proximity to each other; whoever drawing the symbols having once copied them from those on the altar, found during a peaceful walk in the woods…..though Phalon found it hard to imagine anything such as a peaceful walk in such a place as this.

She pointed towards the cottage and the forest beyond. “There. I think that’s the place to search first.” At least I hope it is, she thought to herself.

Scrappy turned to the other woman standing in the trio. “Okay, Carly. Do your stuff.”

Carly closed her eyes and stood motionless for a moment before Phalon saw a mirrored image of the woman depart from her body rise up, and float through the air drifting like a fast moving cloud in a gust of wind towards the area where Phalon had just pointed. Her physical body remained behind; still, except for her eyes moving rapidly beneath her closed lids, and Phalon wondered if the eyes saw where the spirit traveled.

Lovely, she thought. Great. What next? A pair of seeresses from the same family, separated by centuries of generations, a missing sorceress, a man who healed himself, a woman who bore a striking resemblance to one who lived here previously, and an evil spirit who’d attached itself to a family and would not leave them be for what seemed to be an eternity of torment… And now this? Was there not anyone…anything…in this place that was normal?

She looked to Scrappy, who shrugged as if this were apparently something she witnessed on a daily basis. Scrappy….her relative. How ironic that she’d thought of nothing else, and everything she’d done here revolved around her intent to get back to her family – and part of it was already here, connected through centuries old bloodlines. Scrappy was family, and she wondered if those ties had anything to do with the choice she made to return…if on some subconscious level they’d known they were connected in this way.

Her eyes were drawn back to Carly…or rather, the shell of Carly. She could not shake the feeling she’d gotten in the library that something was not quite right with the woman. She raised her arm and snapped her fingers near Carly’s ear. Nothing. She passed her hand back and forth in front of the woman’s closed eyes – still nothing. All it would take was a quick touch, she thought. Just a brush of her fingers would perhaps reveal if her uneasy feeling towards the woman was warranted. Her fingers outstretched, reached towards Carly’s cheek.

The woman’s eyes snapped open; violet flashing gold – almost slyly feline in appearance as she stared directly at her, making her feel as if those eyes bore into her soul. Keeping her eyes holding Phalon’s, she turned her head slightly towards Scrappy, and said, “I’ve found it. I’ve found the altar where he took Dixie. Come on, this way.”

One last look of warning shot in Phalon’s direction and Carly turned towards the cottage. Scrappy quickly followed. Perhaps I am imagining it, Phalon thought. She was tired and the events that took place since she’d been here were wearing on her, making her see things that weren’t really there. That is what she hoped anyway, as she followed the path Carly led them on, past the cottage and to the altar in the forest.

[Scrappy Amazon]

The three of them trotted down the path towards the cottage. Scrappy was itching to run but she needed the newbie to direct her so she forced herself to let the woman take the lead.

A multitude of thoughts ran through her mind as the sun rose. She wondered what Phalon had seen when this woman grabbed her arm. She thought briefly about how she managed to get herself into this mess. The realization the she and Phalon were related was a surprise as well. All be it a pleasant one. But the most important thought that ran through her head was wondering if Dixie was alive and unharmed.

They rounded the end of the cottage and were met with a solid wall of trees. ”Damn! Now what?” She turned back to Phalon silently questioning. Phalon understanding the look on Scrappy’s face pointed in the direction she thought they should go. That was all the encouragement that Scrappy needed. She took off at a run crashing through the underbrush headless of the tree branches and poison Ivy.

She vaulted over a fallen log then looked behind her to see if the other two were keeping up. She watched briefly as Phalon attempted to climb over a log and proceeded to trip over her long robe, falling palms out onto the soft forest floor. Stuck between helping Phalon up and continuing on Scrappy hesitated for a second. In the end panic for Dixie drove her on into the ambush she knew was waiting for her.

Scrappy slid to a stop as she entered the clearing. She pulled her weapon and waited. Watching, listening. The cold stone altar stood as silent witness to who knew how many ages. Dixie tied spread eagle across the dew covered stone struggled against her bonds. The gag in her mouth preventing her from warning Scrappy of the danger. Scrappy motioned by placing a single finger against her lips for Dixie to be still.

Scrappy circled the altar keeping one eye on the woods and one eye on Dixie. Her face was bruised and the ropes holding her down bit cruelly into exposed flesh. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She knew she was being watched. It was time to get things underway and get some answers.

Scrappy approached the prone form of Dixie cautiously. Reaching down she removed the gag. The instant the gag was removed Dixie croaked through abused windpipe. “Scrappy it’s a trap!”

”I know. Don’t talk just let me see I if can get you untied.” She reached down with her free hand and began feeling around the bonds looking for some kind of purchase. ”Damn, he’s got you tied up pretty good. I’m going to need something sharp.”

”How about a sword?” Scrappy could almost smell his breath as a feral grin barred rotten teeth. He stepped from the tree line sword drawn and pointed toward Scrappy. Scrappy swung her weapon to bear on him as well.

”I’m sure I can manage without your help.”

”Ah yes. I’m sure you are a very capable young woman. But you really should reconsider my offer.”

”What do you want?

”Ah now there is the question.” He advanced still further. Sword still drawn, but lowered slightly. ”I want the same thing you want Scrappy. You just don’t know it yet.

”Cut to the chase before I just shoot you and put you out of my misery.”

”If you think that will accomplish anything, then, please, feel free.” He thrust out his arms as if her were hung on a cross, head thrown back, waiting.

”Suit yourself.” Scrappy aimed at his chest and fired. She watched as the bullet sped across the distance and entered his chest leaving a small hole where his heart should be. He staggered back half a step from the force of the bullet but he remained standing in his vulnerable position. She aimed again, a little higher this time. The loud pop as she fired echoed through the surrounding woods. The bullet ripped through his up turned chin exiting the top of his head.

As it had when she shot him through the chest the hole closed up almost immediately. No blood no gore, only the grotesque grin as he lowered his head to look at her again. Scrappy looked at him not with the fear he would have expected but with curiosity. “What are you?” It was almost a sigh.

”That is a question that would take some considerable time to answer. And it really has nothing to do with our current situation.” Scrappy holstered her weapon. Knowing now it wouldn’t do her any good and wanting to have both hands free. ”So allow me to answer your previous question. What do I want. I want this all to end. The endless chasing and the centuries of not knowing. I want your power, and I want you dead.”

He advanced on her again sword shining in the new sunrise. The only thing separating them was the altar and Dixie’s prone body. ”Well now. We can’t have that now can we." She began a slow purposeful retreat trying to draw him away from Dixie. Hoping he would leave her for the moment and follow until reinforcements could arrive. To herself she said, ”What is taking them so long anyway?”

[Phalon]

“Umph…” The wind left her lungs as she hit the ground. She lay there for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to force air back inside her. She caught her breath, and muttered under it, “Damn this robe, and cursed be the day I first put it on” - just as she had muttered the countless other times she’d tripped over it, got it caught on something, or otherwise been dragged down by it.

She looked up and half expected to see her friend, Blackwolf, offering a hand to help her to her feet, her eyes rolling in exasperation with her clumsiness – just as she had the countless other times Phalon had ended up on the ground due to getting tangled in the long robe. Blackwolf wasn’t there, of course, and she missed the sarcastic comments that surely would have followed this latest show of her grace and agility.


Neither did she see Scrappy or Carly, who she’d been following. Quickly, she turned to untangle the hem of the robe which had caught on a gnarled branch protruding from the downed log, and wondered why she still wore the thing. It was part of her though, just as was her sword. And in this place where she had so little to remind her of who she was, and where she belonged; she was not about to part with anything; even something as insignificant as the robe.

She worked it free from the branch and moved to stand, when something sparkling on the ground caught her eye; the shimmering light out of place in the dirt. She picked it up, and holding it between her fingers, she gazed into the swirls and flashes of iridescent color. She recognized it for what it was – adamao; a diamond, for she had seen one or two of them in Greece. Not like this one though. Even in the faint morning light; made dimmer still from the thick forest growth, the thing shone brilliant – somehow alive. It dazzled her…held her mesmerized as she stared into the swirls of light and color.

A sharp crack…followed by another; and the sound brought her out of the trance-like state the thing held her in, and she placed it in her pocket. The loud cracks, she recognized, were the sounds made by Scrappy’s weapon. The voices that followed were faint, but listening closely, she judged them to be not very far away. One belonged to Scrappy....the other made her skin crawl.

Phalon remembered telling Blackwolf, always ready to rush in; sword drawn, “Action is not always best taken by physical means”, as she tried to teach the younger woman to have patience, and to think before reacting. Blackwolf had listened and learned. Phalon had learned also. Patience, in this case, was luxury she could not afford, and physical action was required. Saying to nothing but the air, “Do you think all those times you led the way, half dragging me through the forest on some urgent quest, that I wasn’t paying attention? Watch me now, Blackwolf.” Swiftly, she made her way towards the voices, with the stealth of a wolf.

[Phalon]

"Who knows if to live is to be dead, and to be dead, to live? And we really, it may be, are dead; in fact I once heard sages say that we are now dead, and the body is our tomb…” Socrates. Plato

* * *

From the underbrush just outside of the clearing, she assessed where things stood. Dixie was bound to the altar with Scrappy standing on one side, and he, with his sword drawn, on the other.

She had thrown her sword at him once before, in the dining room, to no avail. It had passed right through him. Again, she hurled it towards him, flexing her wrist upon its release, so that it spun flipping end over end as it sailed through the air. Steel clashing with steel, and this time her sword hit its intended mark with the desired effect.

Caught off guard, his blade fell from his hands as hers met with it, and this gave her just enough time to rush into the clearing and wedge herself between him and the altar.

“Ah…someone who speaks my language,” she said, smiling at him and masking her disgust at sickening smell of his putrid breath hot on her face. She pulled her sword from where it stuck in the ground and sheathed it at her back, knowing it served its purpose and would be of no further use against him. “I’ve missed hearing it so. Speak to me in Greek, please, for old times’ sake. I just love the way it rolls off your forked tongue.… so very comforting, and it brings back such lovely memories shared between you and I.”

He complied, eager for the opportunity to torment whenever he could. “Ah Phalon…how nice of you to drop in – and just in time. Stick around - it promises to be quite a good show. Perhaps, you and I can even get together afterwards…you know, just for old times’ sake.”

“I have other plans.” She was stalling for time, knowing Scrappy behind her was working fervently to release Dixie. Searching, she came up with an idea. “I think I have something that belongs to you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the diamond. As the sunlight hit it, she felt drawn to it, nearly unable to pull her eyes away from its radiance. She forced herself to look away, and at him instead.

He noticed, and she thought she saw a small grin play at the corners of his mouth. “Oh? You think that’s mine? Whatever gave you that idea?” She didn’t know…it just felt wrong…it had a certain hold over her, she knew, like he did, and for whatever reason, she guessed the two were connected. He continued, “Keep it, Phalon. I’m now done with it anyway. Consider it a token of my affection. And if the gift giving is over, get out of my way. I’ve got others to spread my joy to.”

“Leave them be. Consider me instead”, she offered, as she quickly put the diamond back in her pocket. She was glad he didn’t put up and argument over its ownership, and knew at the same time it was unnatural for her to feel this way. It took considerable effort to leave it there, and not give in to the urge to stare into its light again.


“You?! Ha! Phalon, why would I do that? Old versus new, and fresh blood is better, no? Yours has got to be stale by now, don’t you think?”

“With age comes wisdom. If it’s the power you seek, mine is older, more refined…aged like a fine wine. I’ve honed it to an art form over the centuries, wielding it like no other before or since me,” she lied.

“Why now, after all this time, would you consider such a thing? You’d be helping me, and why would you want that?”

“I help you; you help me. We are alike, you and I. Kindred spirits, so to speak”, she shuddered at the thought before the words even left her mouth. “Inhuman. You are inhuman. Me? I was dead….and now I’m alive? Alive but feeling dead, and what’s the difference? What have I got to lose? What’s here, in this place for me? I’ll tell you. I’ve got nothing – my friends are gone, no family…no warmth…no love. What’s the point?”

“Ah, but you’ve one family member here, don’t you? You’ve never been one to give up so easily. Clawed your way out of worse situations, if I remember correctly.” He leered, “a couple of them provided by me…first with Athan and your following trip into madness, and then again standing on the brink of insanity here, after I showed you what you’d become – dead. And now your not. How’d that happen, I wonder?”

She shrugged. “I have my ways.”

“So you overcome death, and after all that, you’re saying that you’re suddenly willing to give up?”

“All I’m saying is that I’m tired. Hanging on for centuries gets old, you know.” She smiled. “Of course you do – you’re as old as I. I can end your torment, just as you can end mine. Fair trade, don’t you think? I give you power, and you send me to the Elysian Fields. My life and you spare theirs.” She hoped this didn’t sound as ludicrous to him as it did to herself. Buying time, and she was saying the first things that came to her mind, making it up as she went along.

“Always the do-gooder. Taught by Eurayle, and bound by that ridiculous oath of hers that your family’s power never be used for evil. Not much fun, if you ask me.”

“You knew Eurayle?”

“What’s the matter, Phalon. Does that surprise you?”

“No, just a bit disappointed that I wasn’t your first. You kind of held that special place in my heart,” she said sarcastically.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Phalon. She’s the one who started it all…killing me for the first time when she found out I was just using her to gain her power, and damning my soul for all eternity. Before that nasty little deed though, she let her guard down thinking I loved her, and let me see just a glimpse of what that power could do. It whet my appetite, and I never quite lost the taste for it. As I lay dying with her knife stuck in my belly, I made a little vow of my own…that the soul she’d cursed for eternity would spend all that time following her family. Over time, I’ve gained a bit of the knowledge, but you all are so damned righteous in your convictions. Not a one of you was willing to give it up completely. Until now…now I intend to get what I’ve been denied. Get out of my way. Our little game is growing old, and I’m growing bored of playing it with you. You just don’t quit.”

“Exactly what I was thinking…that this game has grown boring. Let’s end it with just one more play. To get to her, you’ve got to go through me.” She had her plan set, and whatever the outcome, she hoped it gave Scrappy enough time to get Dixie free and lead them both out of here.

“Is that a challenge?” he said, grinning.

“No. Consider it a dare.”

She offered a silent plea to her gods. “If the gods be in this place, please, hear me now. Zeus, grant me the power to do this. Hermes, in your role as psychopomp, guide this soul to its place in the Underworld, and Hades, chain him there for eternity. He’s been loose for far too long, and it’s time it ended.”

‘Let this work’, she thought, ‘and somehow, let me live through it.’ Whatever she told him, it was a lie. She wasn’t willing to let go yet; wasn’t willing to simply give up and let him win. He advanced, meaning to pass through her to get to Scrappy who was still working on Dixie’s binds.

Closer…she felt his icy chill enter her…..this was it; her one chance…Now!…and she kept him there…his soul held by her mind; his raw cold wrapped in her warmth. She had trapped him within her. Centuries of his memories flooded her mind, and she used them – called on them to aid her…Eurayle….Elizabeth…Balere…countless others; generations of her family whose names she didn’t know but from what she saw looking into his mind. His memories mingled with hers now, and threatened to make her lose her grip on him. She didn’t though; she held tight with all that she had – and all the power of those he’d took combined - together, they all held him within her, and didn’t let go. She staggered from the clearing before the vessel she’d become overflowed, and unleashed its vile contents once again.

[Joxcenia]

Joxcee made a mad dash for the secret entrance behind Mrs. Peacock, her fear of the people in the room being greater than the unknown. What if the secret passage is dark? Joxcee stopped in her tracks, a seconds hesitation, giving her just enough time to scan the wall for the trigger to open the hidden door. She spied a rope sash hanging down the wall beside the fireplace for no apparent reason. It isn’t attached to any curtain… no bell at the top for it to ring…. What other reason can it be there for, other than to pull open the passage door? She pulled on the rope and rushed inside the hole that suddenly opened up in the wall. There was light! Praise the Lord! Joxcee gave a silent prayer of thanks as she raced through the narrow passageway. She followed the lit torches overhead, passing by several dark places along the walls on either side of her and stopped at the next set to look at them more closely. The pattern must mean something, like it was put there by design, not by some freak of nature.

A draft of cool air blew over and around Joxcee as she stood between the dark places on the walls, one in front of her and one behind her. For a brief moment, she paid no attention that her hair was blowing straight back, off her shoulders, and not across her face from one side to the other. Then she realized. Slowly she reached out a hand to feel for the wall her gut knew wasn’t there. Oh… Please be a wall… please be a…. Joxcee jerked her hand back when it went beyond the wall, into the dark void. A maze… I’m in a maze!?! Joxcee jumped back, then jumped forward again. Stay in the light… just stay in the light…. She looked up and down the row of torches to her left and right. As long as I stay on the pathway with the lit torches, I’ll be all right. I will. I WILL! She held her breath. Breathe girl… Breathe! Joxcee sucked in a mouthful of stale air, almost choking as her throat went dry. Run girl… RUN! Things are in those dark places… scary things… things that will reach out and grab you as you run past…. The worms crawl in… the worms crawl out….

[Scrappy Amazon]

The immediate danger was over. Phalon had effectively lured the man with the sword away, giving me the chance to free Dixie from her bonds. What Phalon was going to do with him after that I had no idea.

I flung off my coat, the previous excursion warming me beyond the need for it. I circled the great stone untying Dixie as I went whispering soft hushes that everything was ok now. That I was there and she was safe. But somehow they didn’t register. The tears streaming down her cheeks began to mingle with the crusted blood and soft blonde tresses. Having freed her completely I then climbed onto the stone to cradle her head against my chest.

She needed to let the tears flow. To let the stress and fear wash out of her. And I intended to let it. I held her tight, still whispering, still consoling and reassuring slightly rocking. Finally when the sobs subsided and she relaxed into my arms I began to probe. I needed to know what had happened to her while she was out of my sight. But ever the one to stumble over things of this nature I went too far and pushed her back into the darkness.

“Tell me what happened. Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

Instantly she stiffened in my arms and her breathing became ragged the tears began anew. Anger rose like white hot fire up my spine. Making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Those simple actions had told me what had happened. Bile rose in my throat causing a constricting lump. I couldn’t breathe, my vision blurred, and my hands shook.

This man had spent eternities, god knew how, causing pain and devastation in my life and lives and for that he would pay. For causing the death of my mother and now for this. I knew now from that moment on, the shining blue eyes I had so enjoyed before would never be the same. Would any of us be the same again?

I looked down at the beaten and bloodied face of an angel. Hoping she would forgive me for what I was about to do, but I needed to know. I needed that image to drive me on and keep the anger in me fueled for the fight that I was sure was coming. Leaning down slightly I whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry honey. Please forgive me.” Hoping the double meaning in that sentence didn’t go unheard. I began to assert my plan, to violate her again. Only this time it would be in her mind and not her body.

Slowly I ran my ungloved hand up her arm until it was gripping her red and damaged wrist. I gently massaged the area trying to help the circulation to return while breathing deeply and hoping my emotional turmoil wouldn’t prevent me from seeing what I wanted as it had before. A few more deep breaths, and still nothing.

I had rarely been able to get visions from people before. But I had to try. I leaned down once again and placed a warm kiss on her neck just below her ear. Still whispering I said, “Help me see. Let go and let me help you. Let me help us all.” Reaching up I used my teeth to remove the remaining glove then placed my hand on the edge of the stone to prop myself up better. The instant my fingers brushed the stone the energy began to flow. I didn’t fight it. The vision washed over me like a hot wind on a desert summer morning. It stole my breath and made my eyes water.

I stood in the clearing again. The scene I had been a part of now gone. An outside observer to this one, witness only, unable to participate or alter its path. But I knew that somehow I was a part of it. My soul had a connection and I must see.

The blonde one Titana, knelt at the altar. The same one who had held my souls other body before. Tears falling upon the tender new grass, her belly swelled with the unborn life within. She held the well worn letter in her hand reading it again for the hundredth time. The same one I had seen her reading before when I had the dream of her on the ship.

I approached her slowly, hoping this time to catch a glimpse of what was written in the letter. I leaned over her, my presence just a breeze against her skin, as the words on the faded parchment began to become clear.

My beloved,

How I yearn to feel your warmth next to me as I face my judgment upon the morrow. No laws of man nor man of God will ever keep my love from you.

I fear, however, that your presence would only leave you in grave danger. I beg of you to please listen carefully to me, as it will put my mind at ease and make this trial easier to face. I have secured some money for you. Please use it to gain safe passage to the Americas.

Be careful as you travel securing a new life for yourself. Never mention my name or our tender affair, for my name will be linked to the evil that stalks my family. The pain I endure now small compared to the sorrow I should know if any harm were to come to you because of this. Remember always the sound of my heart and the whisper of my voice before you sleep, and I will meet you in your dreams.

Yours faithfully,

Elizabeth

I would like to take this moment to say thank you to TZ for helping me write the love letter.

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[Edited only to get all the post's contents into a PDF file... nothing was added to or deleted from Scrappy's post. ~~Joxcee~~]

[Joxcenia]

Joxcee watched the row of torches that were leading her to where Mrs. Peacock had come from. Where had she come from? She had to have come from the mansion; there was no other building on this property, or was there? Joxcee slowed down when the lit torches in front of her ended, and the path led on into darkness. She froze for a second, concentrating on the shadows at the edge of the darkness, afraid to blink. Was there movement in the darkness? Were the torches lit in the opening to either the left, or the right? Should she venture closer to the darkness to peek around the corners to see if she could continue on her journey to wherever Mrs. Peacock had come from? Where had Mrs. Peacock come from? Did she really want to find out where Mrs. Peacock had come from?

Ever so slowly, Joxcee crept toward the darkened pathway in front of her and peeked to the right, nothing but darkness. She turned and looked to the left, darkness. She stepped back, and as she did so, the torches on the right and left of her went out.

[Scrappy Amazon]

WARNING: The following post contains material of a graphic and disturbing nature regarding rape. Please read at your own risk. It was never my intention to either offend, or to glorify or demean an experience like this. Only to share. Comments are welcome in the House of Whoosher “Comments From Our Readers” thread.

Sobs broke through the stillness of the quiet glade. Titania’s tears sounding muffled to my out of place ears. I watched the woman who possessed the soul I was beginning to care so much for. I had only known Dixie a day, but we had shared a lifetime of love and devotion already. I wondered if Dixie knew this. Or if she simply felt the history when we were together.

I have spent a lifetime of keeping my feelings in check and never letting anyone get close to me, but somehow they came flooding through as I watched Titania cry over a love she lost. My heart was breaking for her and I wanted to know how she felt. I needed to know what she had been through to get here at the request of her lover.

I watched as she refolded the letter and wiped salty tears on her dove gray cloak. She reached out and placed a delicate hand on the, as yet undecorated, stone alter. I heard her whisper low and filled with pain to her long dead lover. I moved in closer so I could hear the words behind the tone.

“If you only knew My Love, the things I have done to fulfill your request.” Her head hung low in shame and pain. I knelt down next to her in the grass, knowing she could not hear or see me. But I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Tell me then. I am listening.” I reached up to brush away an errant strand of golden hair, but my hand passed through it sending tendrils of electricity through my fingertips. Feeling my presence she turned the hand that was laid on the altar palm up. I reached out to entwine our fingers. My hand lay in the same place hers did, atop the stone, our lives mingling.

Another vision slammed through me. The intensity of this one causing my stomach to turn, and my nerve endings to rage like fire under my skin. I attempted to breathe slowly as I welcomed it.

She ran through the filthy streets breathing hard and trying not to trip over her skirt. Her mind raced. “How did he find me?” she screamed internally. Bystanders looked on but none willing to help. Beads of fear induced sweat stung her eyes. Terror clouding her thoughts to anything but flight.

A sharp turn down an alley brought her the possibility of freedom. A door stood open. “Please,” she cried “whichever goddess is listening help me now!”. She looked over her shoulder to gauge the distance between them and tripped over a piece of debris on the cobbled walkway. She landed hard, palms scraping on the rough stone, knees striking with jarring force skin peeling from tender shins.

Fear drove her on. She stood on bruised and protesting legs and began running again. But her miscalculation had cost her. He had closed the distance in seconds. His hairy filthy hand reached for her dress and caught hold with an iron grip. Jerking her back into his arms her worn leather shoes slid in the slime covering the street. He snaked a hand up to her mouth and covered it to prevent her from screaming.

She attempted to scream anyway, knowing no one could hear her. Or even if they could no one would help. She tried to bite him but this only served to make him press harder. His hand partially covering her nose as well now staunched the free flow of air into her already burning lungs.

Her knees began to give but he held her up through sheer will and one arm wrapped possessively around her waist. Fingers searching, digging for things no man had ever touched. Her tender flesh screaming at every new bruise.

The hand covering her mouth suddenly let go and wound itself through her hair. She took a deep breath attempting to sooth damaged lungs and began to scream. The hand holding her hair shot foreword and hard brick met soft lips in a rush. Blood trickled freely from damaged lips as her tears began to burn. “Please.” She whispered. The sticky copper taste ran down the back of her throat.

“Yes. Please, plead with me little girl.” His lips pressed against her ear as a knee slid up her thigh to rest painfully in the small of her back, holding the rest of her body firmly to the wall. His hot and rank breath made gooseflesh rise on her arms. The terror now was almost complete. Her mind raced, her body tensed, searching for a solution.

“Do you know what I did to her before she died? Would you like me to tell you?” She struggled more, her anger getting the better of her, which only served to make him press her body against the wall harder. “She fought me too. Almost to the end. Eventually she disappointed me though. She gave up. She gave in and begged me for it. Begged me to take her. Begged me to end the torment. And I am so very good at torment.”

He leaned up slightly and licked the side of her neck to her exposed ear. The pressure from his tongue too hard to be passionate. It left a sick feeling in her stomach. Her mind began to separate from her body. She knew what was about to happen and her mind fought against the mental scars she was about to receive.
He pushed her roughly down on the pavement. Her face slammed unmercifully into the cobbles. The stench of the slime on the road and his foul breath caused her to gag.

She tried again to free herself. To push herself up off the street and run but his weight holding her down from behind was too much. Her chest and knees dug painfully into to stones as he began tearing her skirts from her body. One hand held her neck to the ground while the other began its covetous exploration of her now exposed body.

Her mind raced away. Protecting itself form the brutality, from the violation of her body and the core of her being. Mental screaming pierced the last vestiges of light and sanity in her shattered soul. He spoke into her ear again, but this time she didn’t hear. She had gone. Her soul had torn from her body, fled from pain and tears and shame. She hovered there, stuck between reality and oblivion. In the end she chose oblivion. Sacrificing the good memories to rid herself of the bad ones that were being formed.

Mentally she walked away intending to never return. Leaving the battered and abused shell to fend for itself. No more conscious thought. No more daily struggle to live. No more pain of loss and guilt, and no more living without her love. She looked down one more time on the scene before her. Her body lying prone his heavy grunting filling the air as he pounded out her life in a steady rhythm.

She turned toward the sunrise, dissolving as she went. Letting the breeze take her away. Begging the sun to absorb what was left.

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[Edited only to get all the post's contents into a PDF file... nothing was added to or deleted from Scrappy's post. ~~Joxcee~~]

[Scrappy Amazon]

I removed my hand from hers and the stone as if it were on fire. I covered my face with my hands unable to bear the sorrow I felt for both Titania and Dixie. And then I heard it. Barely more than a sigh through the sound of our tears, hers for the suffering she had been through and mine because twice now I could not prevent it. “Please don’t leave me again. I need you.”

“You know I’m here?” Titania turned her head to look in my direction, but she looked through me as if she could not quite see where I was. The same deep blue eyes looked in my direction.

“I can feel you near. And I can hear your breathing carried on the breeze.”

“I don’t belong in this time anymore. You know that.”

“I know. We have both moved on. I don’t belong here anymore either.”

“Something has happened.”

“I know. I came here to remember.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Don’t do that to yourself. Or to us. We need your help. Not your pity.”

“Tell me how. What happened to Dixie?”

“I don’t know. But I helped you to see my torment so that you might better understand hers.”

“Tell me what happened after.”

“Is that important?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t bring her back if I don’t know.”

“Do you love her?”

I couldn’t answer her question. I tried to avoid it by making excuses. “I’ve known her for two days. How could I possibly....” She interrupted me. Frustration clearly in her voice.

“Have you ever allowed yourself to feel that way? Out of control. Vulnerable.”

“No. Why are you doing this to me? Just tell me how to help her.”

“Because you can’t help her if you are unwilling to take the chance that you might get hurt.”

“Just tell me.” I was getting angry again. I understood what she was getting at, but I just couldn’t face it yet.

“I ran away. From the pain and the torment. I wanted to die. I did for a while. I went to a cold dark and strangely comforting place. Elizabeth came to me there. She held me and reassured me. Then she told me I had to go back. That it wasn’t time yet. That the child I would conceive would carry our love into the next generations. Then she told me that we would be together again.

And so I went back. Because I trusted her. But Elizabeth had gone and wasn’t there to help me deal with it all. When I awoke and found him laying there out of breath I screamed at him ‘Why?’. He said, ‘Because I serve God and he will have what is his.’ I attempted to shove him off me again. In doing so my hand found a broken piece of pottery. I drove it through his skull with all the force I could manage. As I rolled him off of me I managed to say, ‘You serve yourself.’

After that I roamed the country side. Half in, half out of madness. But as the child within me grew the pain lessened. And finally I found this place. Where I could be safe from him and the church. I raised my daughter here and lived out a long and almost happy life. As happy as I could be without Elizabeth. And when I died, she kept her promise. We were together again. For a while. Until it was time for us both to move on again.” She looked straight at me this time. “Tell me, was that helpful?”

“No.” I admitted. ”So tell me what I need to know.”

“You already know how to help her. The details are unimportant. Just be there. And don’t run because you are afraid.”

“Ok.” We stood now facing each other. I reached up to touch her face again. She reached up to grab my hand and suddenly she was solid, our fingers intertwining.

”Save your compassion for her. I am beyond that now.”

“Thank you.”

I came back to my reality still sitting on the stone, cradling Dixie’s head and shoulders in my lap our fingers intertwined as they had been with Titania. I was breathing hard but there was no headache this time. It was cold but I was unwilling to move her yet. Reaching down I grasped the edge of my trench coat. I lay next to her on the altar to help spread the body heat and threw my coat over us. We both just needed to rest for a minute. Wrapping my arms around her I went to sleep. Exhaustion overtaking good sense.

[Phalon]

She had not given much forethought to what she’d do with him once she had him trapped inside her. She had had some vague notion that she could just absorb him, and thus, render him powerless. At home, she’d once seen her friend Bhen Rudha, a priestess of war, absorb a storm; swallow it whole, and use it to fuel the crimson haze that was her battle madness. But the battle they had fought then had been on the outside – on a battlefield that was a forest filled with evil.

The battle with evil that she was fighting now was taking place inside her. And Phalon was no Warrior Priestess. His storm raged against her, and she was losing ground. Her only thought now was to get as far away from the altar as possible before she lost hold of him completely.

She crashed blindly through this forest surrounding this house - far removed from the other forest that was her home. The trees and underbrush thinned and she stumbled into a small clearing. Pausing in an attempt to regain some control, she leaned against a tree, grateful for the solidity it offered. She tried to refocus her mind, calling on the others – the ones that made up his memories – to help. In the roar inside her head, they were silent.

Across the clearing, she was startled to see Carly standing; motionless. The younger woman beckoned to her….offering assistance? Phalon hesitated and wondered if perhaps she should turn in the other direction, towards the sea. The voice she heard was soft and soothing; comforting her, and though the words were not understood, they seemed to lull some of throbbing inside her head. “Come on, Phalon. I can help…let me do this.” Human contact – Phalon was alone, and susceptible to it.

As she stepped away from the tree, she immediately recognized that it was a mistake. Even through blurred vision, she could see the reassuring smile on Carly’s face was more of a forced grimace, and her violet eyes flashed a warning…..

Whack!!!

The blow to the back of her head brought her to her hands and knees; the force of it releasing him from her. The rush as he was expelled from her body took all her energy with him. Her strength sapped, her arms buckled and she sprawled in the dirt. The one who’d delivered the blow from behind grabbed a handful of her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling and bringing her back to her knees. She was forced to look up at him as he manifested himself in front of her. He towered over her; stronger than he was before, though perhaps it only seemed so because she was weakened…helpless to do anything to stop him.

“Ah, you have done well, my little assistants…unwilling or not”, said the being she loathed; the thing she’d come to hate. He glared towards Carly. “Do not try to help her again”, he said. “I saw that look of warning, you know…I see everything…and it was not appreciated by me. It could have ruined everything.” Phalon watched Carly cringe under his glare and at the harsh sound of his words. Possibly she isn’t a completely willing participant in his game, Phalon thought. Somehow, she was relieved by this, though it seemed an absurd thing to bring her relief in her current predicament.

“Aiden, hold her there”, he continued. “Carly, get it. It’s in her pocket.” Kneeling next to her, Carly started rummaging through the pocket of her robe. Why? Phalon wondered. What could possibly be in her pocket that he’d wa……her diamond! That it was his to begin with didn’t matter…she’d found it….it was hers now, and how dare he try to take it from her. Again she had a vague thought that her obsession with the thing was not right, just as she did at the altar when she’d held the diamond in front of him. There was a little tug towards the back of her mind warning her – but she pushed it away, not listening. The diamond was hers; and hers alone.

And Carly had it now. Before the other woman could step out of her reach, Phalon caught her wrist and pried open her fingers. Look at it! It shone brightly in Carly’s open palm, the sun catching it and making it sparkle like nothing that Phalon had ever seen. So pret…. “Pretty, isn’t it, Phalon?” he said in Greek for her benefit. It didn’t matter what language he spoke - she barely heard him; his voice only a faint echo towards the background of her mind. The stone; radiant in her eyes, was the only thing left that mattered to her now. “Yes, yes…look at it…the swirls of color. Its beauty is hypnotic.” She was already mesmerized; so enraptured with what she saw in it – its brilliance – that she failed to recognize the truth in what he’d just said, and never saw the look in Carly’s eyes, begging her to look away.

“Give it to her.” Carly placed the diamond in Phalon’s hand. Phalon watched the swirls of iridescent color gather into a concentrated orb, rotating within the stone. Faster and faster the orb spun, until it exploded; radiating white heat – a brilliant blinding light - shooting out from the diamond’s facets. The streams of light burst into soft, warm golden sparkles; almost alive the way they danced around her.

He drew a breath, long and deep, drinking in the tiny golden points of light with it until none remained floating in the air. She felt her head being pulled back by her hair, so that her face tilted up towards his. Aiden’s hand was under her chin, his fingers applying pressure to both sides of her jaw, forcing her mouth open. And then with the strength of Boreas himself, he blew a gale of golden wind into her with such force she could do nothing but swallow it.

She felt herself losing consciousness, and struggled against it. Their deed nearly done, and the plan almost complete, she was released and allowed to slump to the ground. “Finish it.” The words were in Greek. He wanted her to understand.

A foot on her back pressed her further into the ground – pressing so hard she thought her backbone would snap. When the strain was nearly too much to bear, the earth beneath her gave way.

Was she to be buried alive!!!!

[Phalon]

She dreamed a dream she dreamt before…in a time long ago, and a place far away.

She was wearing her blue robe – not the royal blue one; the one she’d laid over Bhen Rudha at the close of their battle against Kedos; evil. This robe was a blue the color of the sea and was made by the weaver with the fiery hair and glassy stare. It was not floor length, but nearly so, and stopped just above her ankle. The yoke of the garment was the color of red wine, and along the back - above where the two fabrics met, was embroidered a row of amber and ebony-green fern fronds. The yoke made a slight dip - a wide V - at the center of her back, and in that V, an intricate knot was embroidered in the same amber color of the ferns, and of the amber eyes of one familiar to her , but from a time other than hers and whose name she could not now place. The material that made the yoke also lined the inside of the robe. She’d never felt a material so soft. So comforting. She ran her hands across it admiring its texture, when she felt the robe being pulled from her. She spun around, the fabric swirling about her legs. Unseen hands belonging to unseen entities grabbed at her. Laughter filled her ears. The wind kicked up, and the robe’s material flowed out behind her, the hands tearing it from her back. The entities, the robe, and the wind were gone, and she was now alone in a dark forest.

She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her head bent, and hands pressed to her forehead. She felt despair at having had her robe torn from her - an aching; a mourning, as if the robe were just more than an article of clothing meant to keep the sun off and cold out. It was a part of her, and she felt lost without it. Uncontrollable sobs wracked her body, and she crumpled in a heap on the forest floor.

“Don’t let them do it, Child. Don’t let the Furies’ madness start to tug at the corners of your mind.”

She looked up, and saw Eurayle standing above her; pieces of onion she held in her hands slipping through her fingers and landing on the ground in front of Phalon. “Gather the pieces, Phalon. Put them together and make yourself whole.” The last piece of onion dropped to the ground, and the great seeress held her hand out to her. Phalon grasped the gnarled hand, staring at the silver ring upon its finger; thinking it meant something, but unable to remember what. She let the hand pull her from the ground. “Go, Child. Go find what was taken from you.”

Eurayle was gone, and she now found herself running through the forest, afraid of what may lay ahead, but more terrified of what was behind her. Blindly running, tears streaming down her face, she nearly ran into Zena; stopping short just before she ploughed into her friend. “Zena!!!”

“Phalon! Where have you been all this time? And what are you running from.”

“I’m searching for something I lost, but I can’t seem to find it. I don’t know where to look.” What was she looking for? The robe? Something else? Home? Her family and friends? Her life? Herself, perhaps? All of those things? “Help me find it, Zena. Help me before I lose it all.”

She fell through the earth as the dream ended, and did just that. Everything gone…she’d lost it all.




note: Phalon's dream, in italics, is an excerpt taken from the Zena Scrolls.

[guru]

No immediate way to tell where the light was coming from. A mystery.

'No time ... gotta go.' He snatched up the sketchpad and jammed it unceremoniously into an interior coat pocket. Any other weirdness in the room would have to wait its turn. There were other problems to address.

As much as Guru tried to maintain a mood of scientific detachment ... he couldn't. He just couldn't. It was a losing battle against the creeping sense of irritation nipping at his heels. There was absolutely no excuse for his outburst at the young woman with the sword, and he knew he should feel bad about it. What if he slipped? What if his aim was off and he relieved her of her sword hand? 'What if that was the only way to teach a lesson to that little...'

Alarm bells went off in his head. That last thought was not his!

Funny thing about being an immortal -- the longer lifespan allows time to form a more perfect sense of self. Guru could not help but feel compassion for those who spend their paltry handful of years doubting themselves ... wondering who or what they are. Not that he claims to be some kind of elightened master, but he knows who he is. He just doesn't know why he is.

The few mortals who knew about immortals were mostly convinced evil was at work. People who look into Guru's eyes frequently assume he is up to no good. Must be something about him they do not care for. Once every great while he wakes up in the middle of the night wondering if someone knows something he doesn't. Something about why he exists.

Right now he didn't care for crawling around some hole in the ground digging for pieces to yet another puzzle. There stood the open door begging him to avail himself of its unspoken hospitality. In his current state of mind he would've torn a closed door off its hinges if it stood in his way. Blood surged. Pressure mounted. Like a four-foot tarantula crawling up his back, anger clawed its way into his consciousness.

Damn this emotion when he wanted to be purely logical!

Into the darkness of the secret passageway he charged with a commanding stride, echoes dutifully answering the barking orders of his footsteps. Guru's job as a musician depended on a highly-developed ability to analyze sound, and that ability proved useful in navigating the unexpected turns of what he had first assumed to be a straight-line tunnel from the cottage to the house. The timbre, the timing, the volume and balance of each echo painted a sonic picture of what lay ahead. Until one echo didn't sound right.

With outstretched fingers he walked in a little circle feeling the space all around. He stood at a three-way intersection. No immediate way to tell which way to go.

No immediate way to tell where the anger was coming from. A mystery.

[LoyalMinion]

It had easily gone according to the Master’s plan. Too easy, he thought. He had expected a fight from her, or at least some resistance – but there was none, and that had disappointed him a bit. Of course, the Master had been inside her mind – he hadn’t expected that, and wondered how the Master had accomplished it. Or maybe it was her doing? It didn’t matter – it had weakened her, and had made it easier for them to accomplish what needed to be done.

And it had been done well – it went so perfectly he was almost smug with the sense of accomplishment. Of course, it wasn’t all his doing. Carly had seen her trip over the log – what a bit of luck that was. She’d hung back and hid behind a tree as the other rushed ahead to the altar. While the one with the sword worked to untangle herself, Carly had thrown the diamond to the ground in front of her. Even the rising sun played a role; its rays catching the stone and making it shine bright so that she noticed it.

Their spot had been carefully chosen. The tunnel beneath the clearing was weak and already near collapse. All he had had to do was break up the ground. And that was done easily; the soil already soft from the previous night’s rain. She didn’t even need to be led there; she’d wandered into the clearing on her own. Just a beckoning hand from Carly, and she was in perfect position for him to hit her with the shovel he’d used to loosen the dirt – not enough to kill her, or even seriously hurt her – the Master had not wanted that. Though as he raised the shovel, the urge had been there to just bring it down as hard as he could and take her out of the picture for good. But they needed her alive when she fell into the tunnel under the spell of what was contained within the diamond. So as much as he would have liked to split her head open with the shovel, he hadn’t. His Master would have not liked it if he’d done other then what he’d been instructed, and he hated to displease.

Carly had displeased the Master with the look of warning to the woman. That could have ruined everything. He wondered at this newcomer’s loyalty, but supposed she had not yet relinquished herself completely – as he had so long ago. He had been jealous of her at first; that his Master…now their Master…had taken another into his fold. It didn’t take him long to accept it though; he’d seen the wisdom in having another. He could not be everywhere at once, and now welcomed Carly’s help. But was she completely willing to help, and would she ever be? He was bothered by the doubt he’d seen in her eyes. And it troubled him that if she did not comply exactly with what they were instructed to do, that misfortune might befall her – he wouldn’t want that.

And it also troubled him that he had this concern – however tiny it was – for someone other than his Master. He noticed a tiny seed of doubt within him begin to grow.

[guru]

He frowned. The anger was fading into a distracting twilight of annoyance. 'Maybe all I needed was something to think about.' Guru felt more relaxed as he pondered the dark intersection. He didn't have long to ponder.

A muffled thud from the left corridor directed him like a lighthouse beacon. In such a passage, sound can be quite distorted and lose a good bit of valuable information. 'It could be a cave-in for all I know,' he chided himself for his haste at rushing forward.

Light up ahead ... and the sudden realization that he never would have forgiven himself for running the other way. The light was from a cave-in, and the cave-in happened for a reason. That reason was lying on the floor seven feet in front of him.

He recognized the woman from her full-length robe and the tinkling sound of glass vials. Remembering her sword, he resisted the urge to rush forward and offer assistance. No sudden moves -- nothing that might startle her. He did not want to create more distance between them.

In the dim glow desperately trying to filter down from a dawn still gathering strength, a lone figure stood ... brushed away a little dirt ... turned slowly to face him ...

... and smiled.