Kathryn “Tyger” Ward
To The Third Power
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Kathryn “Tyger” Ward
To The Third Power
To The Third Power
by: Kathryn “Tyger” Ward
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Kathryn “Tyger” Ward
To The Third Power
© Copyright 2009, Kathryn L. Ward
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording,
or otherwise, without written permission from the author.
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To The Third Power
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This book is dedicated to my sister, Nyx Goldstone, without whom I never would have attempted this
crazy thing called NaNoWriMo. And to the love of my life, Lona Stein – there's nothing I can't do when
I'm with you, and I am nothing without you. The power to change the world lies within all of us – we
just have to recognize and plug into it.
Kathryn “Tyger” Ward
To The Third Power
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Chapter 1: Little Girl Lost
The dreams started when she was old enough to remember them. Maybe they'd begun
earlier, but who'd give credence to the nightmares of a child too young to speak?
Images of cavernous mouths, glowing red eyes, the feeling that there was no escape
from whatever was chasing her. There were other dreams, too, though. Dreams that were
wondrous.
Dreams of flight, the feeling of wind rushing over outstretched wings. Dreams of
running through the forest, moving too fast to be possible. Flowing over fallen logs, around
trees, no sound but the crunch of rapid footsteps and the panted breaths of the runner. The
feeling that there were others, nearby. That family was close, and that all would be alright, for
nothing could ever stop them.
Those dreams were good, and though she always seemed to wake up tired after either
kind of dream, she couldn't help but carry the feelings of the dreams throughout her days.
Other kids thought her distant at best, strange and an object of ridicule more often. It didn't
help that she was also the weird kid who's parents had pulled her out of school just after first
grade, in order to homeschool her. Though perhaps there was something more to her dreams
than they seemed.
Karyn Allaway lived in a run down apartment building across the street from an
elementary school – the very elementary school that she had attended until her parents saw
fit to school her at home. She would regularly walk across the dead-end street and squeeze
through the gate to the school's basketball court and playground. Many times she did this with
her father, who would sit quietly and watch her play in the sand. Sometimes they would bring
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a basketball, but more often he would sit on the stairs that lead to the main school building
and watch as she played on the school's equipment as if it were a park. More often than not,
however, when Karyn crossed the street to play, she was alone. This was the case one day in
the summer between third and fourth grade. Despite being pulled out of school, living across
from one made it almost impossible not to measure time in school days and school years.
On this afternoon, she'd thought she was alone on the playground. That was fine with
the eight year old. Her most recent friends had just moved out of the apartment complex –
and too far away for her to see them regularly. Yet again, she was on her own. But that didn't
matter to her – her favorite playmates were those that didn't usually talk back. As she
crouched in the sand below the slide, carefully forming what, to her eye, appeared to be a
fairly accurate sand sculpture of an Ankylosaurus, she could hear Dylan moving around
behind her. Today, her imaginary pet took the form of a small brown dog, who delighted in
dancing through the sand in the playground without ever leaving a single pawprint. A child of
powerful imagination, she could hear the little dog's happy panting and feel the breeze when
his prancing brought him close to her back.
Her parents had asked her several times where the name “Dylan” had come from.
She'd responded incredulously that “That's his name,” and her parents hadn't pushed the
issue farther. The name had come to her much as Dylan himself had – suddenly, and out of
nowhere. She'd been lonely that day, wishing that she could have a friend who wouldn't move
away – and there he had been. That first day, his form was misty and unclear. When she
thought about it later, she would have guessed that he was either a small dog or perhaps a
raccoon. Since then, he'd appeared in many forms, usually depending on the game she was
playing at the moment, but she knew it was him. The nice thing about Dylan was that he knew
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how to entertain himself if she didn't want to play with him right that moment, but he was
always there when she was ready to play.
She finished working on her sand sculpture and stood up, dusting the sand off of her
koolots. “Come look, Dylan. He's all done.”
The little brown dog trotted over immediately, stopping by her feet. His current form
was an ambiguous mutt with floppy ears and a feathered, waving long tail that resembled that
of a Golden Retriever. His mouth was open wide in a panting grin as he looked at his friend's
handiwork. It looked a little like a turtle, but she liked it. That's all that mattered to him. With a
sharp bark, he turned and tore up the ladder (another benefit of being imaginary – Dylan
didn't always behave all the common laws of physics and reality, even if Karyn understood
them), barking at her from the top.
Karyn giggled and climbed up the ladder after her imaginary friend. They slid down the
twist slide together. Who needed human friends when Dylan was always there for her? She
got up and started to head back around for the ladder again, when a sharp growling sound
from behind her made her freeze in place. She turned to see Dylan, now in a bigger canine
form, more the size of a coyote than the small hound dog he'd been moments before, with his
ears laid back and the fur raised from the base of his skull all the way down his tail. He was
staring at the gate to the school. A moment later, Karyn registered why he was growling.
Three of the meanest looking kids she'd ever seen were climbing over the gate. They
had to be in sixth or seventh grade by the looks of them, and they were coming straight for
the playground. Terrified, Karyn looked for a place to hide – but her physical reaction times
weren't the best, especially under stress... and the boys were upon her before she'd made her
decision.
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“Hey, look at that, Jarred. It's the weirdo girl.” The biggest of the boys sneered down at
her from what felt like two or three times her height. “Your empty-headed father forget you
here?”
Karyn felt her eyes burn. Her father was NOT empty-headed – he just always had a lot
on his mind and didn't have time for silly things. But she was too scared to retort aloud to the
boy.
“She probably can't talk yet, Max,” the one “Max” had called “Jarred” said, stepping
closer to Karyn. Terrified, she was rooted to the spot.
“Check out the giant turtle the weirdo made, guys!” The third boy was walking around
Karyn's Ankylosaurus sculpture slowly.
Karyn's tongue untied, artistic pride pushing through her fear. “I-It's not a t-turtle...”
Max smirked. “So it CAN talk.” He turned and looked at the sculpture. “You know,
Sammy, I think she's right. It isn't a turtle.” He walked very deliberately over to it – and kicked
it in the head, then stomped on the back, reducing the sculpture that it had taken Karyn an
hour to make back to the sand from whence it came in seconds. “It's roadkill!”
The boys laughed, and Karyn's little hands curled into fists, the first tears escaping her
eyes. Their laughter was like hyenas – vicious, mean, without even a trace of humor. The
sound of Dylan's snarling filled her ears, and she threw herself at the leader of the bullies,
screaming, “You killed him! You killed him!”
Max was caught off guard by the girl actually attacking him, but she didn't even land
more than a weak smack to his chest before he caught her arm and threw her onto her back
in the sand. The one hit she'd gotten in, however, had his accomplices laughing at him, saying
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that maybe a little girl could take him. Fury clouded his vision and he kicked sand at the girl.
“Freak! I'll show you what happens to freaks who don't know their place!”
Karyn was still stunned from the fall into the sand and didn't fight when the boys hauled
her to her feet and dragged her across the empty school grounds. By the time she started
struggling, it was too late.
Sammy laughed as he flipped the lock outside the chain-link fence that surrounded the
old, nearly two story tall generator and air conditioning unit that stood against the wall of the
main school building. The boys were jeering at her, laughing, as she pushed herself up with
scraped and bloody palms. The gate had been unlocked, or perhaps while she was fighting
the two that held her, the third had picked the lock somehow. However they had gotten it
open, she was now locked inside it with no way to reach the lock to let herself out.
“Freaks go in cages, in side shows and at carnivals!” Max jeered from outside Karyn's
new cell. Dylan snarled from somewhere behind her, but Karyn didn't look for him.
A panic unlike anything she'd ever felt before filled her as the boys turned to leave, still
laughing, and she ran to the gate. She banged on the chain-link fence with her scraped and
bloody palms, crying and screaming. “Let me out! Let me out! Don't leave me! Let me out!!”
She kept screaming until long after the boys were out of earshot. Finally, she turned
and pressed her back against the gate. The tears blurred her vision, but even with her sight
impaired, she could tell that the sun was beginning to set. Her parents would be looking for
her, soon. She prowled the area between the fence and the big machine that this cage was
meant to house. Scared and alone, Dylan's bark finally broke through the haze that had
wrapped itself around her brain. She turned in a circle, and wiped her eyes on her sleeves,
confused that she didn't see him right away. He'd barked, which indicated a canine form – but
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she didn't see him. Then, as if something had grabbed her chin and tilted her head up, she
spotted him – on top of the machine that shared this too small space with her.
“Dylan?” Her eyes were drawn down to the paws of her friend – the front paws that
stood on the first rung of a ladder that lead all the way up to where he was. Karyn's eyes lit
up. A ladder! Just like the one in the playground! Maybe if she climbed up with Dylan, there
would be some way to get out of the cage she was in.
The climb seemed to take forever – two stories was much farther than any playground
ladder she'd ever climbed before. Every time she felt that she might look down, a sharp bark
from Dylan kept her eyes on the prize in front of her. Finally, arms and legs trembling with the
effort, she hauled herself on top of the monstrous machine. Dylan cavorted happily around
her legs, back in his little brown dog form, as proud of her as she was of herself for having
made it.
And there, across the expanse of the top of the machine and the many maintenance
hatches that dotted it's surface, was her way out. The concrete stairs that went up the outside
of the school building for easy access to the second floor seemed very close to the far side of
the machine. She practically ran the distance to the far side, only to freeze in terror when she
reached it and realized that the distance between the edge of the machine and the far side of
the stair-rail was more than three times her height. There was no way she could jump it.
As she stood there, staring at the impossible task before her, Dylan launched himself
off of the top of the machine and landed gracefully on the landing of the stairs, then barked at
her. His message was clear - “What are you waiting for?”
Karyn felt like sitting down and crying. Her parents would never find her up here, and
her arms were too tired to climb back down; her voice too hoarse from her screaming at the
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boys earlier to be heard if she DID call for help. She had Dylan, of course, but she knew full
well that no one else could see or hear him. Despite her immersion in her fantasy world, she
was quite aware of where the line between fantasy and reality was drawn.
Giving up, she sat, then laid down atop the machine. She curled into a fetal position
and closed her eyes against the tears that once again flooded her eyes. Her hands hurt
horribly, the muscles in her arms felt like they'd been run through some sort of washing
machine, and she was trapped two stories off the ground – less than four hundred feet from
home.
As she lay there, a pigeon landed in front of her and began preening it's wing. Grateful
for the distraction, she stared at the bird and watched the careful, intricate way it cleaned
each individual feather. I could get down if I were a bird, she thought. I'd just fly right over to
those stairs... Her eyes closed, and she felt herself drifting off to sleep, the exhaustion of her
ordeal taking it's toll despite her fear.
Almost instantly, she was dreaming.
She was still on top of the machine, but she was where the pigeon had been a moment
earlier, running her flight feathers through a beak that was perfectly designed to act as a
comb. A moment later, and she fluffed her feathers, spread her wings and leaped into the air.
Her flaps were rapid, and her human mind didn't seem to be able to process the many minute
adjustments that were made to individual feathers as she flew. She was vaguely aware of
Dylan nearby, likewise in some sort of avian form, but the bliss of flying was too much for her
to bother concentrating on him for too long.
She woke up hours later, in her own bed, her night light the only light in the room. She
sat up, confused, not remembering how she'd gotten down from the top of that awful machine
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– out of that cage. Then the dream came back to her and she felt herself relax – the whole
situation was one of her dreams. She was never trapped two stories up, afraid and with no
one but Dylan. It was just a dream. Her hand reached reflexively for Wacoon – the stuffed
raccoon that lived on her bed, who she had named before being able to pronounce the letter
“R” properly. She found him right where she'd left him, but gripping his tail to pull him to her
caused a pain to shoot from her palm straight up her arm.
Karyn cried out, both in shock and in pain, and pulled her hands back until she could
see them clearly. Her palms had been bandaged, but there was no doubt about it – the
scrapes she'd received when she was thrown into the cage were real; and they looked exactly
as they had in her dream.
Dylan didn't make a sound from where he was curled up in a fuzzy ball at the foot of
her bed. His form was his quietest and most cryptic of all – a gray fox gazed at her silently
from the corner of her bed.
**********
As Karyn grew up, she tried not to give much thought to what had happened – or
hadn't happened – that day at the playground. Her parents told her that when they'd gone out
looking for her, they'd found her asleep under a tree – less than a hundred yards from her
own front door. Her hands had been scraped, and she barely woke up enough to walk back to
the house. After bandaging her hands, her mother had tucked her in bed, thinking she'd
exhausted herself playing somehow. Karyn never told them about the dream.
She grew older, and in time even Dylan faded to a fond memory, replaced by her first
real life pet – a parakeet named Buddy. Unliked but by her few friends (until they moved
away) and the ever increasing menagerie of animals she cared for, her life wore on. Years
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passed, friends moved away, pets died and new pets appeared. She studied, wrote, drew,
and lost herself in her own small world. The dreams continued, as well, but became less
frequent as she aged. Dylan's appearances were rare, but still fairly frequent – especially
when she was upset. It seemed her imaginary friend was content to simply make sure she
knew he was around, should she ever need him again.
Her studies moved on, though. She devoured every book on the natural world that she
could lay her hands on. Karyn possessed mountains of knowledge about the world outside
her parent's apartment, but no real practical experience of it. She was resigned to her life, as
well. Until one day, a day of loss, and a day of revelation. The day her aunt died.
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Chapter 2: Eyes Of A Tiger
Natalie Genovese stalked out of her house and slammed the front door shut. It felt good to hear
her mother shouting for her and knowing she had no intention of going back. She was eighteen years
old as of two days ago, and there was no way she was staying in this house, with this screwed up
family, any longer. She had money saved up, a bank account in her name... She was out of there.
Maybe her desire to leave had started when she was seven and realized that she was the
smartest person in her family – her mother came to her for advice about finances, and, more
importantly, listened and put into practice what her seven year-old daughter advocated. Or perhaps it
was that night when she was twelve and realized that, not only was her father cheating on her mother,
but her mother KNEW about it and never said anything. Maybe it was the time that she answered the
phone at two AM, only to find no one on the other end, and realized that it was possible that the phone
hadn't rung at all. More likely, though, was that she'd made the decision when her mother screamed at
her that she was worthless and wouldn't amount to anything – just like she did. That had been a month
earlier. Natalie, or Spike, as she preferred to be called, had spent the last few weeks leading up to her
birthday making plans, determined to prove her mother wrong.
She wouldn't be left the way her mother was – trapped in a marriage with a man who didn't love
her, but did bring home enough money to keep her going. She wouldn't be an alcoholic, cheating
asshole like her father, and she wouldn't be a vapid valley girl with a new boyfriend every five minutes
like her sister. She'd refused her father's offer of a car when she turned sixteen – he was just trying to
buy her off again. With no form of transportation save her own two feet, she quickly jogged to the bus
stop. She had a job – most nights and weekends, she worked at a video rental store. Tonight, she was
off, which was good because she'd need the afternoon and evening to find somewhere to stay.
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In the tree lined, hilly streets of her parent's well-off neighborhood, shadows flitting under cars
and seeming to duck behind trees tried to catch her eyes as she headed for the bus. She ignored them.
She knew if she turned her head, there wouldn't be anything there. She'd tried once, when she was
much younger, to ask her mother if she'd ever seen the strange shadow people and animals that seemed
to be everywhere she went. After her mother gave her a look that insinuated far too clearly that she
thought her eight year old daughter was losing her mind, Spike never mentioned it again. She just lived
with it, figuring that perhaps her imagination was overactive, or something. Boarding the bus, she
spotted a tall shadow figure leaning against a tree, seeming to be watching her. As usual, she couldn't
stop herself from turning to look at the large shadow head on... and, as usual, there was nothing there.
Wish a sigh of fury, she boarded the bus and paid her dollar. She'd ride it as far as it took to get away
from this neighborhood... from this illusion of normalcy.
She fingered the blue tiger eye stone that dangled like a dog tag from the studded black leather
dog collar she always wore – the collar that had earned her the nickname “Spike” in recent years. She
wasn't goth, not really – she just liked black, and liked the way the collar felt around her neck. Blue
tiger-eye is a difficult stone to locate at the best of times, but when she found one that would be perfect
to hang from her collar, she'd saved up the money and bought it herself. Sometimes she wondered if it
was other people like herself – those that seemed to be ignored by society, who slowly turned as black
as their own wardrobes and eventually faded into true shadows that created the shadow beings she saw
so often. She had an active imagination, yes – the imagination of a writer. None of her ideas ever
seemed to make it to paper, though. Instead, they remained in her mind, for her to run through when
she had nothing better to do or needed to distract herself. Times like when riding on a bus with no idea
where she was going except that it was away from her screwed up family.
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She wasn't the kind of person to shout or scream when she was angry – she was the kind of
person who would simply bite her lip and lapse into a furious, stony silence when people refused to
listen to her carefully thought out points. She let them talk, let them babble at her. People never seemed
to realize that she wasn't listening anymore, or if they did, they simply didn't care. They just kept
talking at her. At least when it came to the idiots at school, they eventually got the idea and left her
alone. They also seemed to hate it when she took something they meant as an insult and turned it into
something she could be proud of. That also came back to how she'd gotten the nickname “Spike.”
Five years ago, she'd made a conscious decision to stop conforming. She needed to do what felt
right to her – or else she found herself feeling like a puppet rather than a person. Her parents tried to get
her to dress one way, her school tried to get her to dress another – it was important to her that she find
her OWN style, her own way of expressing herself. All black wasn't against the school dress code, and
it made her feel good. Dark tones, blacks and blues, mostly, slowly began to take over her wardrobe.
She blended into the background at school, mostly, taking advantage of the anonymity of a public
school and it's stupid uniforms. Even though her shirt was black instead of white, and she wore pants
instead of a skirt, no one seemed to notice. Modified uniforms were allowed, based on the fact that it
was known that a lot of people couldn't afford to actually purchase the uniforms. And while this might
slightly defeat the purpose of having uniforms in the first place, for Natalie Genovese, it was a blessing.
Any time she needed more clothing, all she had to tell her family was that it was for school, and it
would be gotten for her. And so her wardrobe of dark clothing continued to grow.
Then one day, she came home from school to find her mother crying in the living room. At first,
she didn't ask what it was – probably another fight with her father, or something just as pointless. She
headed for her room, whistling for Weylin, her white German Shepherd mix.
For the first time in his eight years of life, Weylin didn't come.
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That worried Natalie enough that she stopped on the stairs on the way to her room, and came
back downstairs. She whistled for her dog again, but there was no answer. No scrabble of claws on hard
wood floor, no excited barks from the back porch or the garage... nothing.
“Mom?” she asked, but her voice came out too quiet for the sobbing woman to hear her. She felt
her fury building at her mother, but she restrained it and asked again, forcing her voice louder. “Mom?”
Patricia Genovese looked up finally, and upon seeing her eldest daughter, she burst into a fresh
round of tears. “I'm so sorry, honey... I never meant... I'm so sorry...”
Natalie felt her blood run cold. “Mom... Where's Weylin?”
Mrs. Genovese hiccuped amid her tears. “He was... in the garage. I was late for work... You
know that his hearing wasn't what it used to be... he must've been sleeping behind the car and didn't
hear it start...”
Natalie stiffened, her hands fisting at her sides. “No...” When her mother didn't continue, she
stared at the woman incredulously. “You... backed over my dog.”
Mrs. Genovese broke down into a fresh wave of sobs. All she could do was nod.
Natalie was breathing hard, grief and disbelief at war with fury in her head. “Where... is he?”
Mrs. Genovese shook her head. “I... I called animal control to take the body away. I couldn't
just leave him there...” She swallowed and reached beside her, then held something black with silver
studs – and a very familiar jingling dog tag “I saved his collar for you...”
Natalie's hand was shaking, and she took the collar from her mother on automatic. It was sticky,
and in the dim light of the living room, she could still guess that the stickiness was blood. She didn't
cry, didn't scream. She clutched the bloody collar to her chest, turned, and walked out of the house,
ignoring her sobbing mother's apologies behind her. Mrs. Genovese didn't follow her.
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She walked through the neighborhood slowly. In any other part of Los Angeles, a fourteen year
old girl walking alone might have been a target for trouble. But in Mount Sycamore, a very affluent
area with more fences and security patrols than Beverly Hills (it felt like, sometimes), she was perfectly
safe. She didn't even know where she was going until the double wide car gates of the Hallowed Oaks
cemetery loomed larger than life in front of her.
This wasn't the first, nor the last, time that she snuck into the cemetery. She'd been coming here
regularly since she was about ten years old. Amid the old gravestones (some from the late 1800s) was
the only place she ever really felt at peace. Despite the creepy surroundings, she found that she seemed
to catch sight of fewer and fewer shadow creatures once she was within the cemetery gates. Perhaps
there were just enough shadows cast by the headstones and the large trees that her paranoid peripheral
vision gave up on trying to create monsters and men lurking around every corner. Or, perhaps, the place
of eternal rest was too peaceful for even her troubled mind to conjure beasts.
That day, she slipped through the too wide bars of the old fashioned wrought iron fence and
headed deep into the several acre property. She weaved around grave markers and between huge old
trees until she found her quiet place. Between the two oldest headstones she'd found (Marshal Winters
– Born 1827, Died 1893, and Calandra Septomi – Born 1832, Died 1910), she sank to her knees in the
cool grass. The area was “fenced in” from the rest of the graveyard by three trees that were probably at
least as old as the headstones they shaded, two of which were Weeping Willows, and served very well
to mask her presence from any prying eyes.
Then, and only then, did she finally really look at Weylin's collar – the only thing left of her best
friend for the last eight years. She had been right at home, there was blood on the leather of the collar,
and the sticky, semi-dry liquid had stained the hand that had been clutching the collar as she walked.
She stared at the collar, and at the blood on her hand... and she felt her fury growing. What right did her
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mother have to have her dog's body taken away? Why couldn't they bury him in the back yard, like a
normal family, where she could visit his grave and know that there, under the ground... Much like
Marshal Winters and Calandra Septomi... there would always be some part of him there. Her best friend
was dead, and she'd been deprived of the only chance she would ever have had to say goodbye.
Her blood was pounding in her ears, and it had nothing to do with the exertion that it had taken
to get to her special place. Her hands curled into fists, her breathing sped into a furious pant, and when
she opened her mouth, a sound that was more the roar of an enraged beast than a human scream ripped
itself from her throat. She screamed, she pounded her fists on the ground, making Weylin's collar
jingle. She was oblivious to any and all sounds around her, lost in her grief and her anger. She'd never
felt this furious, never felt this out of control. She wanted to kill something, to make someone else hurt
as much as she hurt, to drive the pain she was feeling down someone's throat until they exploded with it
as it felt like her heart was doing.
Her secret spot was isolated enough in the many acres of cemetery that, while undoubtedly
some mourner, somewhere, heard her screams of rage – no one was able to locate the source.
Eventually, her screams turned to sobs, and she cried for her dog, her friend. It felt like hours later
when she finally stood up and turned to leave the cemetery. Before she left her secret place, however,
she set Weylin's collar on Marshal Winter's headstone, and carefully worked the dog tag on it's split
ring until she figured out how to get it off the collar. She pulled her, until then, very utilitarian keychain
out of her pocket (house key, locker key, key to her hope chest – no fobs), and carefully put Weylin's
dog tag onto her keychain. She stared at it for a moment, dangling there, then slipped the keys back into
her pocket, and clutched the collar in her bloodstained hand. Only then did she make her slow way
home.
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On the way out of the cemetery, she couldn't help but notice something very strange. Something
that, despite her grief and fury stricken mind, she swore to herself hadn't been there when she entered
the cemetery that day. Everywhere she looked, under every tree and bush, there seemed to be many
different kinds of birds... and every last one of them was dead.
She put the dead birds out of her mind, and when she got home, she disappeared upstairs into
her room without a word to her mother. She washed Weylin's dog collar with leather soap, soap she'd
bought specifically for making sure that his collar always had a bath when he did.
The next day at school, it was as if she'd been pushed over that little edge from invisibility, into
notoriety. Everyone seemed to know about her mother killing her dog – and everyone noticed the collar
that Natalie was now wearing. The popular girls started making fun of her first, calling her “Fido,” or
“Spike.” Natalie ignored them, as she always did when people made fun of her – but by the end of the
week, the nickname “Spike” had stuck. The rest of the school year passed, and by the time Natalie
moved on to 10th Grade, she'd decided that she liked it. She'd been Spike, ever since.
It wasn't until she got off the bus, an hour or so before sunset, two days after her eighteenth
birthday, that she realized where her subconscious had once again drawn her. She was standing at the
bus stop, outside the gates of Hallowed Oaks Cemetery. She stood there for a long time, one hand in
her pocket, playing with the house key she never intended to use again... and Weylin's dog tag, her
thumb stroking over the engraved letters as it had so many times in the last four years.
Perhaps it was because she was lost in her own thoughts, but when a fleeting, vaguely dogshaped shadow crossed the street in her peripheral vision, she turned to see where it had gone. She
found herself staring at an apartment complex across the street from the cemetery, with a very
prominent “Free Rent!” sign. She used to talk to Weylin about how her mission in life was to get away
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from her parents – to get out there into the world, have friends... have a life. She smiled slowly and,
without another moment's thought, she crossed the street and headed into the Rental Office.
21
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Chapter 3: Creative Commons
Everyone thought Lainie Shafir was perfect. She was one of those people who went around with
a spotlight on her at all times, even when she wasn't on stage. The problem with a spotlight is that it
illuminates only what you want the audience to see – and there was quite a lot to Lainie that she had no
interest in letting her audience see.
She would be eighteen in two months. The annoying thing about having a December birthday is
that your birthday is always overshadowed by the December holidays. Lainie was Jewish, but that
didn't matter – if anything, it made it worse than a Christian who had a December birthday. After all,
Christmas is only one day – Hanukkah lasts for over a week. Her musician father would undoubtedly
be playing on her birthday, he rarely wasn't. The month of December was always a big one for live
music, and she didn't have any delusions about exactly what that would mean. Yes, it was nice, because
there was always enough money in the house for her birthday and Hanukkah to be quite good as far as
food and presents went, but it was also annoying because there were times she felt that she didn't have
a father – she had a backup singer. Her personal history with her father, and her father's choices, didn't
help either.
She was a senior in High School this year, and the spotlight that had followed her throughout
her entire life didn't seem to be fading. She had her pick of boys – even those who were with other
women, which didn't exactly serve to endear her to the girls. However, most girls looked up to her in
one way or another. She always seemed to get the lead in the school play, if she tried out. The drama
and dance teachers were always telling other students to “be more like Lainie,” which engendered quite
a bit of resentment among her fellow arts students. There was a time, not too long ago, when Lainie had
considered taking the California High School Proficiency Exam and simply testing out of school. In
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fact, she hadn't only considered it, she'd technically done it. But despite having passed the test that, at
the time, only twenty people in the state were qualified to take, and (of those twenty), only three passed
– including her – she just... didn't stop going to school.
Outside of school there was simply too much anonymity. It was too easy to fade into the crowds
of people, going to and from their boring jobs like so many cattle milling about. Lainie wasn't ready to
lose the special stardom that came with being the prettiest girl in High School, the best dancer, and the
best singer. So she'd kept going to school. Now, in six months, she'd graduate and that part of her life
would be forced into the past. She dreaded that more than she was looking forward to her birthday. As
nice as it would be to be eighteen, it was yet another step closer to her inevitable collapse into
anonymity.
She wasn't necessarily the best at everything, but she gravitated towards those things that she
excelled at and it made her appear as the predominant Jack-Of-All-Trades of the school. Rehearsal was
always the highlight of her day. It wasn't that she was blind to the girls who looked at her with jealousy,
or at the boys... and men... who looked at her in lust, but that she simply chose not to focus on them.
She went through her day smiling, laughing, staying with Debbie and the other girls in her immediate
circle. She was very good at distracting herself from what she didn't want to think about.
However, at night, the memories would come. As she laid in that dreamy place between asleep
and awake, where nightmares seemed more real, she would remember. And her carefully applied masks
of the daylight hours were stripped away, leaving her a frightened ten-year-old girl again.
There was a reason she hated ice cream parlors. She sat in a booth beside a friend of her
father's, across from her dad as the two men discussed something that, in her later years, she would
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realize was illegal drugs. The man she was sitting beside was her father's dealer. What more innocent
place to meet than at the old town ice cream parlor?
Lainie tried to focus on her ice cream. She'd told her father she didn't like the man he always
seemed to “run into” when they were out together. Her father had simply told her, “Kiddo, I gotta do
my business.” So she dropped the subject. But the longer they sat together, the more upset she got.
Because the longer they sat there, the closer “Michael's” hand came to her leg.
The day it happened, it wasn't entirely a shock to her. She stiffened when the man's rough, big
hand rested on her thigh. She was dressed for a recital that evening – a recital that her father insisted on
taking her to, as an excuse to meet Michael. Her mother had been busy, on deadline – that wasn't
abnormal for a woman who was one of the most well known short story authors in the country – and
would meet them at the school later. Lainie had protested, saying she'd rather be late. Both her parents
told her she was just having a little stage fright and that it would be alright. So she'd left with her father.
Like always, he'd taken her to that same ice cream parlor, which was nowhere near on the way
to school. He'd ordered her a zebra chocolate sundae (white chocolate and regular chocolate ice cream
mixed together, with hot fudge and whipped cream), and they'd sat and waited. Lainie picked at the ice
cream – she was going to go on stage. Even at ten, she knew she shouldn't eat that. But her father had
gotten it for her, so she ate it slowly.
Michael entered, ordered a single scoop of plain vanilla in a cup, then slid into the booth beside
Lainie, across from her father. His voice wasn't a whisper – he always seemed to be keeping his voice
down in order to be polite to other patrons – but it was too quiet for anyone not at the table to hear him.
“How much this week, Max?”
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Her father smirked. “It's been a good tip week.” The men continued talking, and exchanged a
few items under the table, literally. About midway through their post-transaction conversation,
Michael's hand found it's way to Lainie's white pantyhose clad knee.
Lainie stiffened, stopping eating her ice cream immediately. He wasn't supposed to touch her
like that... She bit her lip when the man's hand slid up higher, his fingers nudging under her knee length
recital skirt. Her eyes found her father and she stared at him, trying to will him to see what's going on...
But the more she stared at him, even as the invading hand on her thigh slid up further, she realized that
her father couldn't be MISSING what was happening. The man's arm was obviously moving, and
following the line of his arm, it was clear where his hand had to be. Her father wasn't blind, which
meant he had to know.
Which meant, she realized as a meaty finger brushed somewhere no one's hand but her own had
any right to be, that her father didn't care.
Fury built a knot in her stomach, mixed with the fear of being unable to control anything. As
that horrible man's finger stroked her through her pantyhose and panties, she put her spoon down and
fisted her right hand. She could just imagine what it would feel like, to be holding a big knife like the
one from their kitchen... to bring it down hard and saw right through the pervert's intruding fingers...
She imagined it so vividly that for a moment, she thought she could even feel the handle of the knife in
her little fist. She passed the time that way until they left the ice cream parlor.
She performed at the recital that night – the show must go on, after all. But she didn't speak to
her father again. And in the future, when asked if she wanted ice cream, she would say no. She didn't
want ice cream. She threw herself into her acting and her singing, and though it took years, she finally
reached the point where that day was banished from her every day thinking. But she couldn't banish it
from that spot between asleep and awake. And she couldn't help but relive it every time she was with a
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boy and he tried to take that “next step.” Perhaps because they couldn't resist lying and saying she'd let
them, she quickly developed a reputation for being the school slut. And she let it go, because... well, it
didn't matter. People who didn't like her wouldn't like her no matter what. People who did like her
wouldn't care. So she continued through her life, that spotlight shining down on her. Boys falling all
over her even though she didn't put out... girls either idolizing her or hating her... either way, it didn't
matter. And she never gave any conscious thought to it if she could help it – not until the night of the
homecoming game.
Lainie Shafir didn't fit every stereotype for the High School princess. She wasn't a cheerleader,
though she had been in Flags when she was younger. And she wasn't dating a football player. Honestly,
she found the sport boring and a waste of school spirit, in most cases. However, she still attended the
Homecoming game – it would've simply been bad politics not to.
She sat amid her gaggle of friends, cheered when they did, followed the lead of the crowd as to
how to react to what was going on down on the field. She was nothing if not an excellent actress.
Anyone watching would've been convinced that she was as into it as the rest of the crowd. At halftime,
she excused herself to go to the bathroom and slipped away from her friends on the way.
The school was dark, quiet, as soon as you got away from anywhere there was a bathroom or a
water fountain. She slipped into an empty classroom and drew in a deep breath. The entire school in
one place was overwhelming. She hated football games, and pep rallies... it was the main reason she'd
left Flags, and the reason she'd never gone out for the squad. Too many screaming people in one place,
for too long... she could feel her stomach twisting. She wasn't afraid of the public... in fact, she'd never
had a problem with stage fright in her life. But being amid the group of screaming kids... being one
among many – it was that feeling of anonymity. That same thing that had kept her in school when she
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technically graduated two years previous. She hated it. It terrified her. And there was only so long of it
she could take before she needed to get away.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been in the abandoned room before she heard the door open.
She glanced over to see Darren McDowell, some strange combination of Jock and Geek. He was big,
beefy, not fat but muscular, and his usual interests varied between the Wrestling team, of which he was
the captain... and the Gamer's Association... of which he was also the captain. “Hey, Darren.”
Darren blinked into the darkness of the room, and closed the door behind him. “Hey. I thought I
saw you come in here.” He came over and sat on the edge of the teacher's desk beside her. “Hiding
from your adoring public?”
She laughed. “No. Just needed to be alone for a little bit.” She looked at him, stressing the word
“alone.” He didn't get the hint.
“Yeah, I get that. So... do you sneak around school in the dark often?” He slid closer to her. She
slid closer to the edge of the desk.
“No. I really just wanted to be alone, Darren.”
“Come on... why would you ever want to be alone?” His eyes lit up in the dim light that filtered
in through the window blinds from the football field's floodlights. “Unless you didn't want to be
ALONE...” He slid closer to her again. Their thighs touched.
Lainie stiffened – she was on the edge of the desk. “Darren, I want to be alone. Please go
away.” Maybe he spoke “blunt.” No, no, he isn't getting it, she thought as his beefy hand rested on her
thigh. Suddenly she was painfully aware of her spaghetti strap top, her short skirt, and just how useless
her sandals were going to be if she had to kick him. “Darren...”
Darren's eyes were dark, and his hand seemed to have a mind of it's own. “Come on, Lainie,” he
whispered, leaning closer to her. There was nowhere for her to lean, and his hand was now gripping her
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thigh painfully – she'd lost the ability to stand up. “You know you walked past me on the way in here
on purpose... Your perfume, your hair, the way you shake your ass when you walk... How could I miss
what you wanted? And now... I'm gonna give it to you.” He leaned in as if to kiss her.
Lainie snapped out of her frozen state suddenly. She didn't scream, but tore away from Darren.
He grabbed her shirt with his other hand, throwing her off balance enough that, combined with her
stupid slippery sandals, she fell off the end of the desk and slid to the floor. Her attempt at a scream
came out as a squeak when the captain of the wrestling team very soundly pinned her to the cold tile
floor. His face was in shadow now – she couldn't see his expression. In her mind's eye, his features
morphed into a monster, with slavering jaws and burning eyes. She struggled, but he was too strong,
and the feel of him pressing against her panties through his jeans terrified her to the point that her arms
and legs seemed to have no strength. All she could do was whisper the word “no,” over and over.
Darren didn't care, or even react if he'd heard. He held both of her hands above her head by the
crossed wrists, in one of his hands. His other hand dropped between them and slid up her inner thigh.
To Lainie, it was worse than that day back in the ice cream parlor – she knew this boy, or, at least, she'd
thought she did... What was it about her that made men DO this?! What could possibly possess people
who she imagined were normally fairly rational to suddenly decide to tear apart a girl just to satisfy
some stupid urge?
Just like that day in the ice cream parlor, she felt her terror overwhelming her, mixing with her
fury at being violated like this. But unlike that day with her father's drug dealer, the mental image
wasn't of a knife sawing Darren's fingers off. She had something bigger in mind... She'd just keep
focusing on her fantasy – eventually this would be over.
She imagined a large mallet, like something out of an old Looney Tunes cartoon. She imagined
it hanging from the ceiling, ready to swing down and hit Darren McDowell in the back of his stupid
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head. She imagined a string going from the trigger release that held the mallet up, down to Darren's
jeans button, so that when he opened his jeans, the mallet would fall. She gritted her teeth and closed
her eyes, focusing all her hate and fear into that mental image, even as she felt Darren undo his jeans
button. She imagined the mallet falling, the thud as it connected with her would-be rapist's head. She
imagined the feel of his body being knocked off of her, and the spell of his hold on her being broken.
She imagined it... and a moment later, it happened.
There was a thud and a grunt, and the weight of Darren's body was suddenly no longer on top of
her. Her eyes snapped open in shock and she rolled onto her stomach all in one move. The moment the
wrestling team captain wasn't on top of her anymore, she regained full use of all limbs and scrambled
up. Darren was against the wall in the corner of the room, crumpled like a rag doll. She could see his
back moving with his breathing from where she stood, so she knew he was unconscious. She stared at
him for a long moment, incredulously, then turned to see what could possibly have hit him.
She nearly collapsed when she saw there, hanging from the ceiling, still slowly swinging back
and forth – a giant mallet, hanging upside down, it's handle attached to the ceiling by a simple series of
bolts and a metal bar drilled through it. She leaned to one side to see behind it, almost trembling. There,
just as she had imagined it, was the mechanism that had locked the head of the mallet against the
ceiling until Darren had undone his jeans button and set off the trigger... the string still ran down from
the mechanism and over to where Darren was crumpled in the corner. It was impossible. It had NOT
been there before she imagined it – why the hell would a giant mallet be installed in a classroom?
There was no answer to that... And most certainly no reason for her to stick around. She would
NOT be caught having vandalized a classroom and knocked out the captain of the wrestling team. With
one last glance back at the strange contraption on the ceiling – exactly as she had imagined it, down to
the last detail – she turned and ran from the room.
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Within a few moments after she left, the mallet, it's attachment to the ceiling, and the string
tying it to Darren McDowell's jeans simply faded away, leaving the unconscious wrestling captain
alone in the classroom. Even where they had been attached to the ceiling, there was not a single trace.
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Chapter 4: Grown Up
Karyn worked well alone. Partially, that had to do with her essentially being brought up with the
kind of isolation that not simply being an only child would usually give her. But partially, as she grew
older, it was also by choice. She hadn't needed anyone else – why would she look beyond her own
family and pets for companionship?
One of the biggest influences in Karyn Alloway's life was her aunt. When she was first writing
and drawing, her parents encouraged her, of course – but it was the kind of encouragement that one
expects from parents. Not the kind that you usually received from peers who showed interest in your
work. Her aunt, however, was as close to an impartial observer as she could get with her social
situation.
She saw her aunt Jane twice a year or so – sometimes more if her mother had a random need to
get together with her sister. As a result, Aunt Jane was always very interested in whatever Karyn's
current project was. They corresponded through email as well, in between the visits in person. When
her aunt did come over, Karyn always made it a point to show her anything and everything she'd done –
even some things she hadn't shown her parents. Her fanfiction, her drawings, her carefully illustrated
storyboards that she hoped one day to turn into a novel. All of it was open to her aunt, even when it
wasn't to her mother and father. They sat together and talked, and Karyn usually felt that of all the
people she knew, her aunt understood her the best.
Sometimes their conversations turned philosophical – they would discuss what it might be like
to have an out-of-body experience. Or what it would mean to discover that there was more to the world
than what they could see and imagine – fantastic worlds within worlds, alternate dimensions, things
that should have sounded like science fiction to them, and yet they discussed them as if they were real.
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Aunt Jane was the one who got her into the thought process that if you wanted something badly
enough, if you needed something badly enough, you could make it happen. That the universe would
listen to your heart and give you what you needed.
And yet Karyn never brought up that evening when she was younger. She never told her aunt
about how, the one time in her life that she'd been desperate enough to NEED something that badly –
that it had actually happened. Even now, at twenty-two years old, she didn't believe her memory. That
dream of flying had been like so many others she'd had – it had to have just been a dream. The
scratches on her hands? Maybe she'd played so hard that day that she'd passed out standing up, and
skinned her hands and bruised her knees when she “fell” asleep at the base of the tree where her parents
found her. Never mind that the base of the tree was surrounded by very soft grass, and if she'd hit her
hands hard enough on the tree to have scratched them like that, she probably would have scratched her
face too. Her logical, biologist's mind won out in the end. It had been a dream. She hadn't somehow
turned into a pigeon and flown home, then passed out under a tree. No. She never talked about that day
with her aunt. They had plenty of other things to talk about.
Karyn was closed in her room, writing, when the phone rang. There was a computer in the
living room, but she preferred to do most of her writing longhand in big, five-subject notebooks. An
entire shelf on her bookshelf was filled with them at this point – fanfictions set in various worlds,
usually with some sort of a supernatural twist. Her own personal stories, her own diaries, her thoughts
on “how it might have been.” She had a whole set of notebooks devoted to how it might have been to
grow up if her parents hadn't pulled her out of school. The friends she might have had, that she might
have gone to high school and then maybe college with. It was her way of not being bitter, as strange as
that sounds. She couldn't change what had happened in her life, and she was happy with her quiet
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existence. But sometimes you just have to wonder – that's all there is to it. Those notebooks were her
way of wondering.
She was working on an elaborate fight scene, based on a certain song from the soundtrack of
one of her favorite movies. It was a battle against seemingly impossible odds, at which the tide would
be turned at the last second by the appearance of an anti-hero that the main group of good guys thought
had left them for good. He'd come in, they wouldn't know who's side he was on – until he led the lead
bad guy off a cliff, almost falling to his own death in the process. She was fond of redemption stories,
of characters that had the ability to go from bad to good, and make the change permanent. There was an
aspect of this in almost everything she wrote, and definitely in the eyes of the people and animals she
drew. The distant look of internalized brooding, or the strong countenance of a person who's finally
made a choice for good and would now save the day, contrasted by the vicious sarcasm that usually
identified the once evil character. She loved watching the character's evolutions along the plot of the
story, from bad guy to hero that would save the day. She loved it even more when the characters
seemed to take off on their own and the words would just flow from the end of her pen. That was what
was going on when the phone rang – between her deep focus on the writing and the song she was
writing to blaring from her stereo, it was no wonder she didn't hear the phone ring.
However, perhaps because his sounds came from within her head instead of outside of it, she
was suddenly aware of Dylan, coughing. She turned her head and spotted the gray fox on her bed. He
hadn't shown up in over five years, and it was almost a shock to see him now. She met eyes with him,
and felt a wave of guilt. He might as well have been saying, “How do you forget me so easily? I'm the
one who's always been here for you...”
Karyn swallowed and paused her music. “Why are you here?”
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Dylan didn't answer – true to form, he'd still never spoken a word. He just stared, and the
feelings within her told her his meaning. I'm always here. You just don't always see me. You'll need me
today.
Karyn furrowed her brow. “Need you...?” Her mom knocked on her door and the fox on her bed
vanished, as if it was her attention to him that had held him there and visible. “Come in?”
Irene Alloway was crying. Karyn stared at her, then got up, closing her note book and heading
for the door. “Mom? What's wrong?”
Mrs. Alloway was in her sixties – she hadn't given birth to Karyn until she was forty. As a
result, people usually mistook her for her daughter's grandmother. That age difference was more
pronounced when Irene was upset, as she was now. “Oh, Karyn... Karyn, sit down, sweetheart.”
“I think you should sit down, mom...” she lead her sniffling mother over and sat on the side of
her bed with her. “What's wrong?”
“That was your... your cousin Chaz on the phone...” She swallowed, and Karyn got a sick
feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her cousin never called. Any time any information from that part of
the family needed to be passed on, Aunt Jane did it. She was aware that their part of the family were
essentially the black sheep – poor, living in the same apartment for seventeen years – so if her cousin
called...
“Mom, what happened?” She was vaguely aware of Dylan pressing against her back from
behind. She didn't move.
Her mother sniffled, then whispered, “Janie's dead.”
Karyn had written the expression many times, but she had never personally understood the
meaning of the words “blood ran cold” until that moment. It was as if ice flowed through her veins. She
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trembled with the shock and the cold of it, then said the only thing she could seem to get out. “W-what?
How? When?”
Her mother was sobbing too hard to continue for a moment. “Mary found her...” Karyn's cousin
Mary – Aunt Jane's daughter. “She didn't answer her phone this morning, no matter how many times
Mary called back... so she went over.” Mrs. Alloway sobbed softly, and Karyn numbly handed her a
Kleenex, her other hand unconsciously finding Dylan's warm, invisible tail and wrapping her hand
around it. “The bathroom door was locked, but Mary knew where the spare key was... She found her in
the bathtub. It was too late, sweetheart.”
In the bathtub. Karyn was a writer, and she watched a lot of crime dramas – she knew that being
found dead in the bathtub meant one of two things. Either her aunt had drown – in which case, it didn't
make much sense for her to have locked the door – or her aunt had committed suicide. “She... killed
herself?” She couldn't believe it – all they'd talked to each other about... Aunt Jane had never
mentioned the possibility of killing herself. And yet, her mother nodded.
“They found a note, but... but we don't know what it said, yet. The police still have it.”
Karyn was suddenly glad her mother had asked her to sit down – she probably would've fallen
down at that second if she'd still been standing. “I don't understand...” She felt her eyes begin to burn
hot with tears. The reality was slowly starting to sink in. She'd never talk to her aunt again – that last
email she sent out last night would never be answered. They'd never discuss literature again, never
laugh about stupid cartoons or movies again. She'd never hear her aunt's voice on the phone or go to
her house for Christmas. Now the tears came.
Karyn and her mother cried on each others' shoulders for awhile, before her mom seemed to
drag herself to her feet, saying that she needed to call others in the family – find out what kind of
arrangements are being made for the funeral. Karyn didn't protest her leaving the room. The moment
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her mother closed the door, the young woman turned around and fell on her bed. Her eyes closed and
her body trembled with her tears. She felt Dylan appear again, with the steal of the Cheshire Cat, and
looked up to find his paws right in front of her face on the comforter. The comforter was dented, ever
so slightly by his presence.
“What do you want?” she whispered to the spectral fox. She stared at him when she didn't feel
an answer. “You knew, didn't you? This is why you thought I'd need you today... But you're my
subconscious. How could you have known if I didn't?”
There are more things in heaven and Earth, Dylan communicated with a slow swish of his tail.
Than are dreamed of in your limited philosophy. You've grown up – so have I. But I never left. You just
didn't need me for awhile. Now you need me again.
Karyn shook her head. “If I told anyone about you, they'd think I was crazy. Twenty-two years
old and still with an imaginary friend.”
You know I'm more than that.
The artist sighed and closed her eyes. “I'll be damned if I know what you are, Dylan. Go away.
Leave me alone.”
As you wish.
When she opened her eyes, he was gone, leaving behind an impression in the comforter
showing where he'd crouched. Karyn sighed and closed her eyes again. A moment later, though, her
eyes snapped open and she stared at the comforter. A dent. Dylan had left a dent. Her mind flashed back
to those long ago days in the sand at the playground – he'd made a game of the fact that he didn't leave
paw prints. There had never been any impression of where he'd been before. Slowly, almost as if she
was reaching to touch a poisonous snake, she stretched out her hand and laid it in the impression the
fox had left.
Kathryn “Tyger” Ward
The comforter was warm.
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Chapter 5: Shadow Stalker
Spike hated working late. She'd hated it when she was working video rentals, and she hated it
more now that she was working in a book store. Of course, it wasn't so much the book store that was
the issue – it was leaving it and catching the late night bus home that gave her pause.
At twenty-three years old, she had been on her own for four years now, and she was doing just
fine, thank you. She was completely self sufficient and had been since that day she'd stalked out of her
mother's house. She made enough to pay the bills for her little apartment and put a little away, just in
case anything happened. She loved the book store, loved working there. She even liked her manager,
who made an exception for her and let her wear her dog collar at work. He just insisted that she refer to
it as a “choker.” But she didn't like working after midnight. However, she couldn't tell anyone why.
No, she wasn't afraid of the dark. No, she didn't dislike riding the night bus – in fact, the driver knew
her pretty well and dropped her off right in front of her apartment complex rather than at the bus stop
that was two blocks away. No. She didn't like working after midnight because in the dark shadows of
the late night streets, her stalker had too many places to hide.
You'd think that a stalker was something that she SHOULD tell everyone about – at least the
police. The problem was that no one else could see her stalker. The shadows she had seen for her entire
life hadn't faded as she'd grown older. If anything, they seemed to gain strength and become bolder, if
one could attribute motives to faceless specters
She saw them everywhere, now. She tried very hard to exhaust herself prior to going to bed
every night – just so she wouldn't wake up and spot one standing at the foot of her bed. It wasn't as bad
if she didn't wake up until the sun came up. They crossed her field of vision indiscriminately, some
moving like animals – low to the ground and quick. But others, the ones that she was actually
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frightened of, were like men. Tall men, sometimes wearing what appeared to be a wide-brimmed hat.
They stood in the corners of rooms, only moving enough to draw her attention and make sure she knew
they were there. They walked past open doorways, so that when she turned her head to look, there was
nothing there. The shadow men haunted everywhere she went and everything she did. She saw them in
the supermarket, she saw them at home, she saw them at work... But the only time she felt like they
might do something to her was at night. When she'd wake to find a Hat Man standing at the foot of her
bed, and find herself frozen, unable to scream. When she'd lock herself in the bathroom with the light
on and have the absolute knowledge that there was one standing right outside the bathroom door, that
she would see the moment she opened it. And yes, when she walked from the store to the bus stop after
work late at night. It wasn't so bad if she got off before midnight, when there were still enough cars on
the road and other riders on the bus that she didn't feel that she was giving the shadow men perfect
opportunities to finally do whatever they'd been planning for her entire life. But any time she had to
work until after midnight, she knew she'd see them... and there would be no other human beings around
to shield her from their presence.
And yet, despite all of this, she refused to turn on all the lights in her apartment and banish
shadows entirely. She refused to sleep with a night light, or even a flashlight beside her bed. Her blinds
were open to welcome the morning sun, and that was all she did. She refused to give in to the bullying
of what part of her was certain was simply some strange part of her subconscious. The shadow men
couldn't possibly be real. All the research she'd done, while finding that other people had seen shadow
beings and “Hat Men” as well, most could be attributed to either a supposedly haunted location, or
some sort of psychosis – from the fear of the dark to someone's paranoid delusions about being
followed. Her paranoia, however, stemmed from the fact that the shadow beings seemed to be
following HER – something that no other account she could find mentioned.
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So she wouldn't give in to the insecurities, she wouldn't give in to her own brain trying to scare
her. In fact, she embraced the frightening. She loved horror movies, watching her favorites (mostly
werewolf movies) regularly. She read books that starred the supernatural, and imagined herself in the
role of the heroines. She imagined what it would be like to banish her own personal specters once and
for all.
Her day of banishing the shadow creatures would not be tonight. She'd already seen several
within the book store as it emptied of patrons for the evening. They lurked between the bookshelves,
and in back corners. There was one in the break room that had made her decide to skip lunch today. As
a result, she wasn't just tired and annoyed at the shadow creatures, but also hungry. As she worked at
re-shelving books, she caught a glimpse of a Hat Man, disappearing around a corner out of the corner
of her eye.
Spike sighed and glared at the corner. “I saw that,” she muttered – as if speaking to them would
make them go away. But, she was alone up here in the romance section, so she didn't worry that anyone
might catch her talking to herself. “You think you can scare me, blob boy? Go ahead and try it.”
Just as she suspected, the Hat Man did not return from where he had disappeared. “Figures,”
she said with a snort. They rarely came back. It had occurred to her that she might be seeing something
scientifically provable – like seeing people moving around in alternate dimensions as shadows within
her own. But if that was true, then the shadows shouldn't be aware of her. Either the guy that liked to
stand at the end of her bed was some sort of alternate universe version of a Buckingham Palace Guard,
or he was quite aware of her.
Spike returned to shelving the books, her hands working with the easy familiarity of someone
who's done this very task multiple times previously. She put the shadow men out of her mind for the
time being, letting her thoughts drift to the last book she had read. The latest book in one of her favorite
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series', she'd picked it up when it had first come out despite the fact that she owned the rest of the series
as mass market paperbacks. So eager was she to read this newest account of one of her favorite
characters – a female werewolf. The thing she liked about this series is that the “monsters” both were
and weren't the bad guys – it painted the supernatural in a human light and made it feel like it could be
there. Real, just below the surface of her own reality. Hiding out from humans carefully and
completely, she could just imagine the challenges faced by a modern day werewolf who needed to
change form regularly. Not to satiate a blood-lust, but to simply stay sane. She liked fantasizing about
changing shape, of running as a wolf or flying as a bird, but they were just passing fancies. She wasn't
sure she'd bother doing it if she could... Her life was fine the way it was.
Something caught her eye and she turned.. and froze.
The Hat Man had returned, and was standing in the very doorway it had disappeared into a few
moments before. But it wasn't the mere presence that had frozen her in place – it was the fact that for
the first time, the Hat Man had a face... sort of. What he had was eyes.
Two, bright red, glowing hot coals of eyes, in a completely black face.
That was it – forget not showing fear... She was afraid. Twenty-three years of seeing these
things everywhere, and she'd NEVER seen one with eyes before. She left her mostly empty box of
books to be shelved, turned and half walked/half ran down the stairs. She found her manager, feigned a
bad headache. Told him that she needed to go home. Since in the entire three years that she'd been
working there, she'd called in sick exactly once, he had no reason to deny her the request. He looked at
her in concern and told her to go home and get some sleep – he'd personally finish shelving her books.
Spike thanked him and left, grabbing her backpack from behind the register she'd worked most
of the day, and heading out to the bus stop. She kept her eyes straight forward, moving as quickly as
she could without it seeming like she was actually running away from something no one else could see.
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She did everything she could to make sure that she didn't look out of the corner of her eyes. She spotted
movement and didn't acknowledge it. She made it to the bus stop in record time, but didn't sit on the
bench. She fidgeted with her backpack, pretending that there was something very important, way down
in the bottom, that needed her complete attention.
She heard the bus coming and looked up, closing her backpack. A chill washed through her and
she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She knew, the way she knew when a Hat Man
was outside of her bathroom door, that the figure from the store was standing directly behind her. She
fought everything in her that screamed for her to turn around and face the being – to curse it out and
tell it off once and for all, but it was as if she was frozen to the spot. One hand slowly moved to her
pocket and she gripped Weylin's dog tag tightly in her fist. She felt her body try to tremble, her jaw
clenched to keep her teeth from chattering. Then, suddenly, the bus stopped in front of her. Before the
glass doors opened, she realized with a sick feeling in her stomach that she could see the reflection of
two glowing, red hot coal eyes, directly behind her. Spike moved forward with a lurch, as if breaking
her feet out of ice, the moment the bus doors opened.
She paid the driver and winced. It wasn't her normal midnight bus driver. It would figure that,
on the night that she was actually terrified and being followed, she'd have to walk those last two blocks.
After taking a seat near the front of the bus, she hazarded a glance out at the bus stop. There was no one
and nothing there. The figure was gone. And yet, still, she closed her eyes and felt fear clench in her
stomach. She'd seen the shadows pass by reflective surfaces before, many, many times. Never before
had any shadow being had a reflection. Either she was finally going crazy – or the stalking was getting
worse.
Spike exited the bus at her stop, muttering a quiet “thanks, but no thanks” to the bus driver. The
driver simply grunted, shut the doors behind her, and drove off. She stood there, alone at the bus stop
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for a moment before turning and walking toward her apartment complex. She had manged to convince
herself over the bus ride that there was no way that same being could be here, four miles away, faster
than the bus could drive. Unless, of course, it really was all in her head – in which case, what was she
afraid of anyway? It's stupid to be afraid of something your own MIND was creating. Her steps gained
confidence as she left the bus stop behind her. She was fine. She'd be home soon, get some sleep, and
everything would be fine tomorrow.
She had just convinced herself that maybe this had happened because her subconscious wanted
her to get a little more sleep, when the cold feeling of dread gripped her stomach again. She knew,
beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Hat Man was behind her. She heard no footsteps, but she never
did when the shadow beings were involved. She broke into a jog. She would NOT let this thing catch
up to her again. All her rationalizations flew out of the window as the feeling of fear grew in her
stomach. At the same time, her anger felt like it was boiling, just beneath the surface. What was she, a
coward? She's running away from something no one else can see – which means it isn't real. Was she
really afraid of something that wasn't real? She might as well let the horror movies she watched or the
books she read frighten her! There was no reason to be afraid of something that wasn't real. She slowed
down as she passed a dark alley. She could see her apartments in the distance – she'd be there in
another couple of minutes. Her jaw set. She wouldn't run – she wouldn't give this thing, subconscious
or not, the satisfaction of terrifying her. Her fury was like a burning ball, slowly melting the icy knot of
fear in her stomach.
When the man's hand shot out of the alley and grabbed her arm, though, her internal war
between fire and ice started to tilt toward ice again. She was unceremoniously yanked off her feet and
slammed to the asphalt of the alley. Over her, stood what she imagined to be a bum – he didn't have the
build or look of a gang member, and was apparently alone.
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At least he wasn't wearing a hat.
“Gimme all your money, bitch,” her attacker growled in a low, gravelly voice. The knife he held
in his right hand flipped open and glinted in the filtered light from a nearby streetlamp. “NOW, unless
you wanna know how Swiss Cheese feels.”
“Never liked it much,” she muttered, then grunted when the man's foot connected with her side.
“MONEY. NOW!” he snarled, brandishing his knife. Spike felt her stomach heating up with
anger again. She was being stalked by some sort of supernatural creature, or just a specter of her
subconscious, and this idiot was daring to try and frighten her?
“Keep your pants on.” She was surprised at the calm, bitchy tone in her own voice. She slowly
opened her backpack, standing back up at the same time, and looked for her wallet. Suddenly, the
backpack was torn out of her hands and hurled back toward the entrance to the alley.
The man slammed her back against the wall, the knife at her throat. “Maybe I won't,” he hissed.
And suddenly she knew that she was about to be raped – and it was her own fault for giving the jerk the
idea. Just perfect... And to make matters worse, the Hat Man was back – skulking in the shadows
behind her would-be rapist.
Her anger and fear formed a simultaneously hot and cold ball at the pit of her stomach and she
began to tremble with terror and rage. The knife pressed into her throat, and she felt a sickening
squelching feeling when it broke the skin as the guy was fighting with his pants. She knew then – he
was going to rape her, he was going to kill her, and he was going to take her backpack. She had to get
away, she had to do something...
Her entire life flashed before her eyes, and fury began to build anew – all the times her screwed
up family had messed her up, her mother killing her dog... Leaving had been the best thing that had
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ever happened to her, and now she'd screwed this up all on her own and was probably about to die.
“No,” she whispered, barely aware that she'd even said anything aloud.
Her attacker sneered. “Wrong answer, bitch.” He pressed her harder against the wall, and she
could feel him against her leg, through his still closed pants. The hot warmth of her own blood slowly
trickled down from the knife cut in her neck.
“I... said.. NO!” She screamed it, this time, mustering everything she could into the shout of that
one word. Her hands came up and she shoved the man back. She saw red, literally, fury clouding her
vision. He would NOT steal her life... Her mother had tried, her family had tried, but she was in control
now, dammit! She and ONLY she would decide when she was done!
Furious, she stalked toward the man, who'd lost his knife when she shoved him back and he
stumbled on his own pants. “Now get. Out. Of. My. FACE!”
The man's hands flew up as if to defend himself, and he shouted, amid a suddenly roaring wind,
“What ARE you?!!” And then he was gone. Not vanished – dead. His body collapsed like a puppet
who's strings had been cut, crumpling to the asphalt.
Natalie Genovese's eyes cleared the moment the man hit the ground, and she stumbled back,
suddenly completely exhausted. She stared, dumbly, at the man's body for what felt like a long time
before it even occurred to her to check his pulse. Not that it mattered – there wasn't one. And some part
of her knew there hadn't been one since he collapsed.
She stood from having checked her dead attacker's pulse, and found herself face to face with the
Hat Man. His glowing red eyes burned into hers, and as she stared, shaking with fear now, her
resistance drained. And as she watched, in horror, a slow smile spread across the Hat Man's featureless
face – a smile made up of sharp, bright white fangs, that stretched so far across his empty countenance
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that it seemed they would reach his ears. That horrible mouth opened, and the most disgusting, sick
laughter that can be imagined poured forth.
Spike broke then. Her feet unfroze from the ground and she whirled, running so quickly that she
almost caused herself to fall face first into the asphalt. She barely had the presence of mind to snatch up
her backpack as she darted out of the alley. She ran the rest of the way to her apartment and locked
herself in, then she turned on every light in the apartment and closed all the blinds before curling up on
her bed and wrapping herself in warm blankets. No matter how many she wrapped around herself, she
couldn't stop shaking.
Several hours later, when she finally managed to fall asleep out of pure exhaustion, the
creature's laughter was still echoing in her head.
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Chapter 6: Power Play
Despite her fears of fading into anonymity, Lainie Shafir was finding many ways to keep that
from happening. Starting with the fact that she worked as a costumed greeter for one of the biggest
chains on the west coast. And while most people who wound up in that particular dead end job wound
up wearing the big mascot costumes, she somehow always managed to pull the shifts that had her in the
face character costumes – simple dress and make up, sometimes a wig. She was the star of every shift
at work, greeting guests, putting her acting talents to full use when a particularly annoying guest tried
to make her break her “smiling, happy princess!” guise.
She still lived with her parents, but, at the age of twenty-three, she wouldn't be there much
longer. Her savings account had a nice pad in it from several years of working on top of the paid acting
gigs she'd gotten when she was younger. To the outside observer, she had a perfect life – and that was
exactly what she wanted the outside observer to think.
No matter where she went, or what she did, the men she met all leered at her. All seemed drawn
to her, as if she was doing something that would tell them she was easy. She was careful how she sat
and how she dressed... after that encounter with Darren at the Homecoming Game, she'd been even
MORE careful. She'd surrounded herself with female friends – only to find that some of them even
seemed drawn to her in a way that made her more than a little uncomfortable. She hadn't had a real date
or a real boyfriend since before Homecoming. Darren had never told anyone what had happened – and
neither had she. Who would believe her, anyway? Not just the attempt by the captain of the wrestling
team to rape her, but the fact that she'd apparently created a giant cartoon mallet out of nowhere and
then it had knocked him off of her. There'd been no evidence of the mallet, or what had held it to the
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ceiling. She'd returned to that room several times, and she imagined Darren had, also, trying to figure
out what had happened. One thing was certain – she knew it HAD happened, and that she wasn't crazy.
Years later, even as she planned to move out and slowly distanced herself from her parents in
preparation of doing so, she still couldn't shake the feeling that something she had done that night had
caused what had happened. That maybe she had some strange ability to create something out of
nothing, and then it would fade afterward, when she didn't need it anymore.
She'd tried to go about conducting experiments on the fact, but either she simply wasn't
replicating the conditions of the “test” properly, or she was just a little bit crazy. But what was wrong
with being a little bit crazy? People were crazy all the time, if the news was any indication. And while
those people didn't seem to do so well with it, if the part of the population that was nuts was that
LARGE, how could there not be people out there who were a little unwell, mentally, and doing just
fine? She wished she could just shrug off what had happened – ignore it and make it go away, but she
couldn't. Alternately, she found herself wishing that something would happen to cause her to do it again
– just to prove to herself that she wasn't crazy. But that didn't seem very likely, either.
So she went to work, day after day. She smiled at the kids, laughed with the parents, and helped
them find cute cartoon character print items that you couldn't get anywhere else. She put it out of her
mind – until the night her father came home and smashed a hole in her wall.
She was in her room, relaxed on her bean bag chair in the corner. Her TV was on – some
mindless sitcom about an era that had ended before she'd even been conceived. It didn't matter to her
because she wasn't watching it – she was reading. Perhaps it had to do with her mother being a short
story writer, but Lainie had always been a good reader. She'd been reading on a low college level in
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grade school, and had therefore been quite bored with the “see Spot run” equivalents that she was
forced to read during her early academic years. Her interests turned to classics like 1984, and Brave
New World, and, of course, This Perfect Day, when her friends were still discussing the social
ramifications of The Bernstein Bears. Her teachers had been worried with her choice of reading
material, and had actually gone as far as banning her from bringing those books to school, when her
fifth grade teacher caught sight of the line “...at twelve, sex began...” in one of her books.
She heard her father's van pull up, but didn't react. She'd known he was coming home, and that
was the reason she was closed in her room. It wasn't hard to overhear the man when he was on the
phone with her mother – his voice was loud, deep, and carried a long way. So when she'd been eating
dinner and overheard that he'd lost his Thursday night gig, she quickly got up, took her food and her
book, and went into her bedroom. He would come home ranting and raving. She'd never forget the time
that, during one of his more violent outrages, he'd slammed a bottle of barbeque sauce down on the
dining table so hard that it had essentially exploded. They were still finding stray bits of barbeque sauce
all over the dining room and kitchen every time they cleaned the house. She had no interest in being
there for him to verbally kick around when he came home in a bad mood.
SLAM!
“GODDAMN THIS PIECE OF-”
Lainie slipped her headphones on and tried to lose herself in her music. She didn't need to hear
it, didn't need to see it or think about it. As long as she ignored it, it wouldn't bother her anymore.
Wouldn't be as real. The down side to getting lost in music is quite simply that you're then ripe to be
caught entirely off guard by someone slamming your bedroom door open.
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She felt like she jumped a mile, clean off the bean bag. Her book went flying, her iPod went the
other way, and unceremoniously yanked her headphones out of her ears, opening them to the verbal
assault her father was hurling at her.
“-dare you hide your pathetic, skanky ass in here while your mother and I try to figure out what
to do! You're an adult,” he screamed, pounding his fist against her bedroom wall to illustrate each and
every word. “You don't get to back off while we figure out where we're gonna get another two hundred
bucks next week! You KNOW her contract doesn't get paid for another two months, we can't afford me
to lose this night! You aren't even fucking LISTENING to me, you little whore!”
Lainie was listening, but perhaps the staring at him, dumbfounded, mouth hanging open, gave
the wrong impression. She sputtered. Her father had sworn to her, in one of his lucid moments, minus
the drugs and alcohol, that if she was ever in her room, he wouldn't follow her in there. That he
believed a person's private space to be a sacred thing, and that there was no way he'd violate that. It
wasn't the shouting, or even the words he used that had her frozen in shock – it was quite simply the
fact that he was betraying her trust in a way she'd somehow believed he never would. “I...”
“Don't you talk to me like that, you little bitch!” And suddenly he was moving toward her – her
eyes found his and she pushed herself back into her beanbag chair. His eyes were bloodshot – it was
probably a miracle he hadn't been pulled over on the way home... He probably lost this gig for bribing
the bartender to serve him tequila in his water glass again. She rolled to one side and scrambled to her
knees, pressing herself against the wall.
“Daddy...” She felt like she was four years old again, cowering under a table as her father
stomped around the house because he couldn't find his sunglasses. Only this time, it wasn't her
perception that was aiming his anger at her – he actually had chosen her as his target. It was as if there
was a bulls-eye on her head and he had some sort of a homing scope on his fury. “Daddy, please...”
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Max Shafir lunged at his daughter – he didn't care. She was in here, with her pretty dolls and
little things that just took money from the house and never brought any in... she was worthless and
useless and how DARE she claim to be a part of this family without contributing a whit to it?! He'd
make sure she contributed...
Lainie dodged, terrified, and cried out for her mother. A loud slam came from right where she'd
been, and the whole house seemed to shake. She snatched up her backpack and fled out the door, the
sound of her father slamming through her room, smashing her things and throwing other things against
the walls chased her through the house. She found her mother, sitting at the dining table, her head in
her hands. “Mom, come on.” She didn't know why she was suddenly so... lucid. A moment ago, she'd
been terrified. Later, she'd be furious. But for now, she felt... numb.
Her mother lifted her head and met her daughter's eyes. “I can't stay with him anymore, Lainie.”
Lainie was too numb to react to her mother's declaration. She grabbed her mother's hand and
pulled her from the chair, heading for the front door. And that's when her father noticed she wasn't in
her room anymore.
“Where are you, you little bitch?! Get back here so I can whip your ass!”
Lainie shoved her mother out the door, then turned and faced her father as he came stalking
down the hall at her. “You get away from me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes were
hard, and her father kept stalking toward her. She knew then that when he reached her, he'd hit her.
And she also, somehow, knew it wasn't going to happen.
“You selfish whore! How fucking dare you-” Max Shafir reared back to deliver a punch that
had already put a hole in a bedroom wall tonight... but the wall that was suddenly between him and his
daughter was much harder. His hand impacted the brick wall that had literally just appeared in between
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him and his daughter, and he heard the crunching of bones. There was silence for a split second, and
then he howled in pain and gripped his shattered hand, blood dappling the carpet.
The brick wall faded... revealing Lainie, slowly dropping her hands. Her eyes were still hard,
and she glared at the wounded man, gibbering a few feet away. “If you ever come near me or mom
again...” She let the threat hang in the air, then turned and left the house.
Her mother was waiting for her in the car, and when Lainie got in, she started it up and drove
away without a word. Lainie sat in the passenger seat, silent. She'd created that brick wall. She'd
imagined it, believed it would be there... and suddenly it was. Just like that mallet at Homecoming. Just
like the knife that she was now convinced had been in her hand when she was ten. She stared out into
the Southern California night and drew in a slow breath as her mother pulled into a Motel. One
question burned in her mind.
What am I?
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Chapter 7: Fly Away
Karyn had never been to a funeral before. She almost couldn't imagine how her Aunt's could
count, either, since she hardly felt like she was there at all. Two days earlier, at the viewing, she hadn't
wanted to enter the room where her Aunt's body lay in it's open casket. Her mother had urged her, but
she'd refused, staying in the waiting room of the mortuary. She listened to the quiet conversation in the
other room, catching snatches here and there.
“...such a shame...”
“...never would have thought she'd...”
“...condolences to you and yours...”
“...looks like she's sleeping...”
“...so very sorry...”
So very sorry. Everyone was so very sorry. They said it was such a shame. Not once did she
hear anyone call her aunt an idiot. Not once did she hear someone say “how could she...” As much
disbelief as seemed to be going around in the other room, she didn't hear one person say what she
KNEW was on all of their minds. What pushes a person to take their own life? She closed her eyes, and
it was as if she was there.
She stood in the corner of her aunt's bathroom, watching as she carefully laid a note to her
husband atop a pile of towels. The bathroom door was locked. She watched Aunt Jane, wearing that
stupid pink bathrobe of hers, down an entire bottle of sleeping pills. Karyn bit her lip as she watched
her aunt climb into the bathtub and settle down, not wanting this to be too hard for her family to clean
up later, of course. When the razor blade drew blood, Karyn abruptly snapped herself back to reality
and the present with a sudden shout of, “NO!”
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Silence fell in the other room, and Karyn rested her head in the palm of her hands until the quiet
murmured conversation began again. When she lifted her head, the first thing she saw was Dylan,
sitting on the tile floor in front of her.
You should go see her.
“What does it matter?” Karyn muttered, being careful to hide her moving mouth from anyone
who might pass in or out of the viewing parlor.
It isn't the same to say goodbye to a closed box.
“Yeah, but...” Karyn closed her eyes. “Dylan... I don't want to see her like that. I don't want my
last memory of my aunt to be her... cold and dead in a box.”
As opposed to what you just saw in your head? His tail swished, curling around him the other
way, and his inquisitive fox face stared up at her with deep brown eyes. You will regret not going in.
“You never used to talk this much.”
I never used to need to.
It was true. When she had been growing up, Dylan's body language was always enough. A tilt of
an ear of the pointed swish of a tail or jerk of the head communicated enough that words, even
telepathic ones, simply weren't necessary. In the intervening years, she'd obviously lost a lot of her
childhood innocence and subtlety – though apparently not her imagination. For if she'd lost that, there
wouldn't BE a gray fox sitting on the floor of a funeral home, trying to convince her to go in and say
goodbye to her Aunt.
Karyn sighed and stood up, awkwardly smoothing the lines of her black skirt. She rarely wore
anything other than jeans, and she felt... awkward and out of place in these uncomfortable clothes. She
didn't glance at Dylan – she could feel him with her, paws making a light “tap tap tap” sound on the
floor beside her as she walked. The sound blended well in with her footsteps, so she couldn't tell if
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anyone else could hear him or not. After the other day, when she found the warm spot in the comforter,
she hadn't known what to think. Had her imaginary friend somehow become... real? She'd put it out of
her mind in the following days, leading up to her Aunt's funeral, but every time she saw Dylan she
thought of it. And she was seeing him far more now than she had in the past few years.
Maybe he was right. Maybe she was seeing him more now because she needed to. Who else
could she talk to? There was only so much she could get out in her writing and drawing. In the last four
days, though, her writing had fallen flat. She hadn't been able to finish the fight scene she'd been
working on that day. She hadn't been able to work on any of her other projects. Drawing, on the other
hand – drawing was coming incredibly easy. She'd read a book once that said all great artists drew
inspiration from their own emotional pain – and her pain was very emotional at the moment. How
many times had she imagined that scenario, wondering what her aunt was thinking, how she could have
actually done what she did. Had she actually been as eerily calm as she was in Karyn's imagination? Or
had she been crying? Maybe sobbing as she fought to overcome her body's survival instinct with sheer
will? The problem with suicide is that there's never any witness except the person who committed the
act themselves, and as her aunt was evident – those people don't talk much after the event.
Karyn made her way quietly, unobtrusively, into the viewing room. Dylan was at her feet, and
she was highly aware every time his soft, non-corporeal form brushed against her leg just below the
end of her skirt. It was amazing how everyone spoke so quietly in rooms with a corpse. It was almost as
if they were trying very hard not to wake a sleeping person. But Aunt Jane wouldn't be waking up from
this “nap.”
She stopped in front of the open casket and found herself staring down at her aunt's face. Her
hands were folded calmly on her stomach, just above where the lower half of the casket lid obscured
the rest of her body. She was wearing a black dress that Karyn couldn't remember ever having seen on
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her before – her aunt wasn't really a dress person. She was, like Karyn, more inclined to wear jeans and
a t-shirt, or that stupid pink bathrobe. Karyn bit the inside of her cheek as her eyes roamed over her
aunt's face, down her body to her folded hands. The undersides of her wrists, Karyn knew, would be
unceremoniously stitched shut. The “lifelike” detail was reserved for the parts of the deceased that the
loved ones would see. And even then, it fell short. She looked like she was sleeping... but never in sleep
was a person's chest so still. Never in sleep were their cheeks so... made-up. In Karyn's eyes, she
looked like some sort of mannequin, some mockery that was trying very hard to look like her aunt, and
was failing. Her aunt didn't wear dresses. Her aunt didn't sleep on her back – or with her mouth closed.
Her aunt's eyes always seemed to move when she slept, as if she was constantly dreaming from the
moment she closed her eyes. These eyes were still, this... thing's... chest was still. It lay on it's back, it's
hands folded across it's stomach... it wasn't her aunt. It was a shell. A stupid, pointless shell. She
couldn't say goodbye to a shell – her aunt wouldn't hear her...
Dylan shifted against her ankle. Breathe, little one.
Karyn suddenly became aware that she hadn't been breathing. And the moment she drew in that
breath, her eyes turned impossible to see through, blurring with hot tears. Her aunt was gone, she
couldn't say goodbye to a shell any more than she could say goodbye to a box. Her aunt had stolen the
opportunity to say goodbye from her, forever. What a selfish thing, suicide...
Karyn. Karyn, listen to me“No!” She'd shouted. It made everyone in the room jump and look at her – she was unobtrusive
no more... instead, she was now what she hated being – the center of attention. But she didn't care, she
didn't notice. “No, I will NOT listen! She's dead! She's gone! Why doesn't anyone care how SELFISH
this was?! Why doesn't anyone say what an idiot she was for doing this!” She glared down at the
corpse, tears flowing freely now. “You're stupid, Aunt Jane! How dare you steal yourself from us! How
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dare you! HOW DARE YOU!!” Her voice echoed. She was aware of her mother and father, her uncle
and cousins, trying to get her to calm down. Telling her she was hysterical. She wasn't hysterical, she
was furious.
Karyn Alloway jerked away from her blood family and turned, running in low-heeled shoes out
of the funeral home, Dylan at her heels. Only her fury kept her ankles straight and her body moving
forward as she ran in shoes that were barely meant to be walked in. She heard someone screaming, over
and over, “I hate you! I hate you!” It took her a few moments to realize that it was her.
Maybe her family decided to let her go, but for whatever reason, no one but Dylan was chasing
her as she fled across the street and into the cemetery, leaving the mortuary far behind her. She crested
a hill, tripped over a headstone that was embedded in the ground except for one corner of it, which
stuck up just enough to catch the toes of a woman who was running far harder than she probably should
have been in a cemetery. Suddenly, she was falling head over heels, tumbling down the hill, bumping
her elbows, legs, and back over and over again against the ground, against embedded headstones,
against roots and the occasional rock. In a detached sort of way, she realized she would be very, very
badly bruised when she came to a stop. Then her head struck something, and she didn't realize anything
else for what felt like a very long time.
She opened her eyes to find fierce gold eyes staring back at her. She slowly became aware of
her body, and with each limb came a fresh wave of aches and pains. Her leg felt wet, and she absently
realized that it was probably blood. She blinked a couple of times, until the face that held those gold
eyes came clear in her vision. She knew immediately that it was Dylan, though for the first time in
years, he wasn't in his gray fox shape. A red-tailed hawk stood awkwardly on it's talons, peering at her
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with what she knew was worry, even though the “expression” on the bird's face would have looked
nothing short of furious to anyone who didn't know Dylan.
Are you alright?
“You're in my head,” she mumbled. Her voice sounded scratchy, hoarse, from the screaming
she'd been doing in the mortuary and as she ran away. “You tell me.”
She forced herself to sit up, after testing each limb in turn and making sure that nothing was
broken. She couldn't turn her head quite as far as she felt that she should be able to, but other than that,
she seemed to be fine. A glance back up the hill told her that she was quite lucky she hadn't broken
anything in her fall. A gauntlet of gravestones, embedded headstones, tree roots, and medium sized
rocks paved the path she'd taken down the hill. It truly was a miracle that she hadn't given herself a
concussion or anything in the fall. She shook her head, and winced at the pain radiating from a lump on
the back of her head. “Ow.”
Where did you think you were going?
“I don't know, Dylan... I had... That didn't feel like Aunt Jane.” She leaned back against a
gravestone and looked up at the sky, suddenly spotting what Dylan had borrowed his current form from
– a hawk was circling high above the cemetery, and undoubtedly was able to see them clearly from
over a mile above them. Apparently she'd seen it clearly enough that Dylan was able to take it's form,
though she couldn't remember having registered it prior to passing out. “It was... fake. I couldn't even
say goodbye.”
I gathered that from the shouting.
She glared at the hawk. “I don't even know why I did that.”
It's called a psychotic break. Or, perhaps, simply grieving. Everyone does it in their own way.
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“Says the talking figment of my imagination,” she said with a pointed look at Dylan, who
preened his wing nonchalantly, running the long flight feathers through his beak slowly. “If there was
evidence I was having a psychotic break, it would be YOU.”
Then you've been crazy since you were born, little one. I've always been here. His fierce hawk's
gaze leveled at her. She looked away first.
“I hate this, Dylan,” she said finally, deflating, leaning back against the headstone again. My
whole life, the only person I've ever really been able to talk to has been you. I hate it here. But I'm
trapped. I can't leave. I can't get away... I wish I could just...” She watched as Dylan spread his wings
pointedly and flapped them. She felt a slight breeze. “Yeah. I wish I could just fly away.”
What if I told you that you can?
She sighed. “If this is about that dream-”
It wasn't a dream. He hawk-walked closer to her, tottering on his talons, letting the sharp tips
dig into the ground the way they were designed to pierce the flesh of prey animals. You did precisely
what you believe you did.
She glared at him. “This is not the way to convince me that you aren't the evidence of a
psychotic episode, Dylan. You're telling me that I turned into a pigeon.”
If I can shape-shift, why not you?
“Because you aren't REAL.”
Are you sure of that? He met her eyes again, and she could have sworn she caught a look of
mischief flashing there. He fanned his tail feathers... and in a rush of beating wings and russet-colored
tail feathers, he flew straight at her. The wind from his furiously beating wings made the grass wave
around her – there was no other wind. And he banked at the last moment, soaring up into the sky, his
wind wake blasting past her and making her hair fly behind her.
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Karyn nearly fell over from the backwash of wind, and stared after Dylan, up into the sky. She
watched as he caught a thermal and soared up to meet the other hawk high above. Her eyes were wide,
and she could feel herself shaking in a way that had nothing to do with the injuries she'd sustained.
She was still sitting there, staring into the sky, when her parents found her over an hour later.
They'd tried to take her to the hospital, but she'd refused, saying she was fine. She knew in her
heart that she wasn't fine, though. She found herself questioning her sanity – her very existence. If
Dylan could leave a warm spot on her bed, could fly away and make grass and her hair move with the
wind he created, could make the sounds of claws clicking when he walked... What did that mean? Was
she crazy? Or was the “imaginary friend” she'd had as long as she could remember... not imaginary?
And if he wasn't imaginary, then... what was he?
There are many names for what I am, Dylan said.
Karyn jumped and her eyes went wide. Her desk chair spun around and she caught it as she was
facing her bed. Her bruises shot pain up and down her limbs and through her back, making her wince.
But sure enough, there was Dylan sitting on her bed, back in his usual gray fox form. “God, don't DO
that!”
“God” isn't one of those names. She could “hear” the humor in his tone, and she glowered at
him. No matter how upset with him she currently was, or how frightened of what this thing she'd
thought her brain had created had become, she still found it hard to treat him as something other than
what she knew he was – her lifetime best friend.
“Well, that's good to know. I'd hate to think I was about to do this to God.” She threw a ruler at
him.
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Dylan's eyes followed the ruler... and it landed at his feet. He didn't move. You didn't want it to
hit me. Afraid it would go through me?
“Everything used to go through you. What changed?” She leaned forward in her chair and
winced at a pull in her back, making a sound that was half grunt, half growl.
You did. He gazed at her, his eyes dark brown, glittering jewels set in the gray and black mask
of his face. His tail swished slowly, and curled around his paws as he settled into a laying crouch on the
corner of her bed, the ruler still at his feet. You grew up. So did I.
“So you've said before,” she said quietly. “I still don't know what you mean by it.” She sighed,
then took a deep breath. “Tell me.”
Tell you what? He asked, quietly, his ears perking, aiming toward her. She could recognize the
signs of his nervousness... or perhaps it was anticipation.
She leaned forward, ignoring the aches in her body, resting her hands on her knees and staring
at him seriously. “Everything. What are you? Why me? Why did you suddenly get so much more...
more...”
Real?
“Yes.”
Dylan drew in a slow breath – she could see his sides expand from it, his fur rippling. It never
occurred to her before that she'd never heard of a gray fox when she first started seeing him as one –
but now that she thought about it, it hadn't been until she was at least ten that she became aware of
other types of foxes than the normal red fox that she saw everywhere. How had her brain created a gray
fox... when she'd never even heard of one?
Dylan stood, then hopped down off the bed and walked up to her – with every step, he seemed
to get a little bit bigger. Until, as he stood before her, his form was still a gray fox – but he was more
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the size of a German Shepherd, yet still with the correct fox proportions... A giant version of himself.
As she watched, he swished his tail up behind himself, until it spun almost like a helicopter blade... and
suddenly, where there had been one tail, there were five. The tails fanned behind him like an impressive
garnish to his new, larger form.
Karyn drew in a deep breath, and whispered, very softly. Only one word, but it was enough.
“...kitsune...”
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Chapter 8: Power Play
Spike went back to work the day after her encounter. She kept watching the papers, the news –
but there was no mention of a bum found dead in an alley within three hundred feet of her apartment
complex. She passed the alley that afternoon on the way home to find... no evidence of the body, or
even of the struggle between her and the bum. She should have breathed a sigh of relief, but instead,
she just felt more nervous. Maybe something out there was watching over her after all – but more likely
whatever it was, was going to show up to bite her in the ass when she least expected it.
Weeks passed without any mention of the bum's death. She relaxed back into her routine, with
the exception of one small thing. Everywhere she went, she was aware of the Hat Man with the
glowing red eyes. Even when she didn't see him, she felt that he was there, lurking just around a corner,
watching everything she did. A red glow in the corner of her room at night, a dark blob turning a corner
just out of the corner of her eyes, a shadow in the mirror until she glanced fully at it. Everywhere she
went, everywhere she looked, the Hat Man lurked. But she slowly became resigned to that as well – as
long as she didn't have another face to faceless encounter with him, he could lurk around her all she
wanted. She wasn't going to let it throw her off. She hated not being in control. After a week of fear,
she decided that she was taking control back. And what's more, it seemed to be working.
She meditated every morning, focusing on her emotions, controlling her fear, controlling her
anger. She envisioned them as something she could bottle up and store away for when she needed them
– a red and black swirling thing that she funneled into little clear bottles and stored at the back of her
mind.
Of course, there was one place where she didn't feel the Hat Man's presence. One place where,
no matter how long she stayed there, she never felt afraid or angry. Her special spot in the cemetery,
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between the headstones of Marshal Winters and Calandra Septomi. Though, in all honesty, the fear and
anger felt like it left her the moment she entered the cemetery – long before she reached her special
spot. She made it a point to walk across the street and into the cemetery at least once every couple of
days – those blissful moments of calm, free of the Hat Man's presence, helped keep her sane just as
much as her meditation did.
As she sat in the cemetery, nearly a month after the encounter in the alley, she ate a sack lunch
that she'd packed and listened to the birds in the trees. Her mind, in those moments of calm, went back
slowly over the encounter. She still remembered it as clearly as if it had happened five minutes earlier,
but as long as she was in the cemetery, she couldn't feel fear about it. She analyzed it the way she had
math problems at school – coldly and efficiently. Logically, she knew that she'd done nothing to kill the
man – at least, nothing that most people would think of. She sifted through her memories of that night –
her thoughts, her emotions, and tried to separate out exactly what she'd been doing when the man had
died.
She'd been furious, and terrified. She'd thrust both palms out toward him, as if shoving all that
anger and fear at him. She vaguely remembered imagining it as a physical thing that could knock the
bum away from her. She hadn't meant to kill him... Maybe she hadn't. Maybe his own arousal,
combined with the stress of the situation, and probably having drunk too much, had added together to
give the man a heart attack. That was the logical deduction to make, after all.
So why did it feel like that assumption was wrong?
She exhaled quietly and opened her eyes – she hadn't realized that she'd closed them. There was
a squirrel on the ground in front of her, eating an acorn quietly, regarding her with a calm, unhurried
gaze. No one came to the cemetery with dogs that would chase the squirrels, and children were always
carefully controlled upon the sacred ground. As a result, the squirrels and other little animals that
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inhabited the place of death were calm and quiet around people; contributing to rather than taking away
from the air of solemnity that blanketed the old trees and headstones populating the acres of land.
As she stared at the squirrel, her mind suddenly jumped back in time to the day Weylin had
been killed. Her hand lifted of it's own volition to finger the collar around her neck. She'd been furious
and angry that day, as well. And now, when she thought back on it, all the corpses of small animals
she'd seen on her way out of the cemetery stood out as if they'd been painted neon red by her mind. Her
memory was incredibly good – she backed up that day to when she'd been running through the
cemetery, furious, crying, Weylin's bloody collar clutched in her hand. She was certain of it – the little
animals corpses had not been there until she was leaving. And she hadn't been there very long. Could
something she'd done... have caused that? Like she'd caused her attacker's death, years later?
She stared at the squirrel, and suddenly became very aware of the “bottles” of fear and anger
she'd been storing for weeks. One of them spun in her mind, like a slowly rotating vial in a video game.
Somehow, she could see both the bottle, and the squirrel in the real world at the same time. She
watched it, taking in the way it's whiskers moved with it's chewing, it's dark, black eyes catching the
little bits of sunlight that filtered through the trees. She watched the way it's tiny hands skillfully
manipulated the nut it held, carefully working it open with meticulous precision. She watched the way
it's tail twitched in time with the soft wind that stirred the grass.
Her hand seemed to rise on it's own, until her palm was facing the squirrel. She imagined the
bottle of black and red swirling gas. Then, in her mind, she uncorked it... and hurled it at the squirrel.
There wasn't an explosion, not even a sound. But she felt something. It was as if a shock
traveled down her arm from her shoulder. And, in an instant, the squirrel just suddenly collapsed. It was
as if the creature was a puppet who's strings had just been cut.
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Spike stared at the squirrel's corpse, her hand slowly dropping back down beside her. She didn't
know what she'd expected to happen... No. That was a lie. She did. She'd expected exactly what had
happened... She just hadn't believed that it WOULD.
Slowly, she rolled onto her knees and crawled toward the squirrel's body. Kneeling over it, she
stared down at it, her mouth open in a small “o.” It's whiskers were still, it's black button eyes wide
open, that same look of serene calm on it's face that it had had when alive. She reached out to touch it,
and her hand smoothed slowly over it's fur. She'd never touched a squirrel before, and this one was still
warm. It held the same fascination for her that all dead things always had – she had been one of those
“strange kids” in school who looked forward to frog and fetal pig dissection. In her apartment, she kept
a coyote skull that she'd found some time ago on a walk down a dry riverbed. It was a soft gray color
and really appealed to her – to make things better, it even had all of it's teeth. She'd named it “Coyo,”
and tended to use it as a focal point during her meditations, imagining the old coyote it had to have
come from. So, while touching a squirrel that had just dropped dead for no apparent reason – other than
a strange experiment that should in no way have worked – might seem a strange thing to do, for Spike,
it was only logical.
There was no doubt about it – the squirrel was dead. It was as if it's heart had just stopped –
much as her attacker's had, weeks earlier. She withdrew from the tiny corpse, found a small tree branch,
and proceeded to dig a shallow grave right beside where the squirrel had fallen. At the same time, she
spoke to it, quietly.
“I'm sorry... I had to know. It was an experiment – a lot of lives have been lost to science. I
know that's probably no comfort to you.” As she placed the squirrel in the grave and covered it up with
the displaced dirt, she slipped her hand into her pocket and rubbed her thumb over Weylin's dog tag.
“You always loved squirrels... Take care of this one, boy.”
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She rocked back on her heels and drew in a slow breath, just crouching there over the squirrel's
grave, her mind lost in a whirl. So what she had done was real. She somehow had the ability to channel
her fear and anger and simply... kill. She felt herself trembling – what a terrifying power... And
impossible. But she'd proven it, and she wasn't willing to take the lives of more creatures by proving it
a second time... At least, not yet. Maybe... maybe on the way home from work she'd buy some feeder
mice from the pet store – animals that were destined to die anyway. She was so lost in thought that she
was completely caught off guard when she stood up and turned around – to see a dog... No, not a dog...
it's limbs and face were too slender, it's body was too small... A fox? But not like any fox she'd ever
seen – this one was gray, with black speckles, a white chest, and strange red highlights at it's cheeks, it's
feet, and it's sides. It's tail was very long, and very fluffy, and it dangled down over the side of Marshal
Winter's headstone as the fox sat daintily atop it, staring at her with knowing, dark brown eyes.
“Where... where did you come from?” she whispered. He was unlike any fox she'd ever seen
before – albeit true that she'd only seen red foxes in one zoo, previous to this moment. “Who do you
belong to?” Maybe he was a pet – there sure weren't any WILD foxes like that in Southern California.
The question is... Who do YOU belong to, Natalie Genovese?
Her jaw dropped open – she'd heard a voice inside her head.. A voice that seemed to be coming
from the fox itself. “What the...”
No need for cursing. You are lost... I am here to help.
“Uh... thanks... but I know exactly where I am.” She muttered, wryly, “Though now I'm
thinking I've gone somewhere else... like... crazy.”
You are perfectly sane. I have seen you use your power, Natalie-
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“Call me Spike.” She shook her head. “Natalie... is just what my parents called me.” She was
holding a conversation with a telepathic animal. Then again, she'd just proven that she could kill
something with a thought, so... maybe this wasn't so nuts after all.
The fox seemed to laugh, giving a soft chuffing sound. Very well, Spike. I have seen your power
– it is a dark one. You are destined for a hard road. But you shall not be alone.
“Because a talking fox is going to be with me?” She sounded incredulous. She didn't care if she
was insulting the creature – surely her subconscious could have come up with something better... a
wolf... Weylin, even.
There are others like you. Come, I will show you. He hopped down off the headstone and
swished his tail, starting to walk away, then looked back over his shoulder. Well?
Spike closed her eyes, took a deep breath... and followed the fox. After all... what did she have
to lose? “What do I call you, anyway?”
I am called Dylan.
Spike almost stopped in her tracks. “My 'guide' or whatever... has the name of some black
dude?”
It is a name. Mine. As Spike is yours.
“Touché,” Spike said with a laugh, and ducked under the low hanging trees, following the fox.
After about a hundred yards, behind one of the many mausoleums that dotted the many acres of the
Hallowed Oaks cemetery, Dylan suddenly stopped. His stop was so sudden that she almost tripped over
him.
“What?” She said, staring down at the fox, then watching as he leaped up atop another
headstone. “We were going here? For some reason I thought you'd take me further...”
No need. They are almost here.
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“They? Who?” She craned her neck, looking around. There didn't seem to be another soul in
sight – human or animal. And when she looked back to the headstone the fox had been sitting on, she
discovered to her shock that Dylan was simply... gone. “Hey! Where'd you go?”
She turned all the way around. She didn't see or hear him anywhere. However, she was
suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that she was being watched. “Not here.... No. You are NOT
allowed in here...” She turned around again, slowly, searching for the shadow form of the Hat Man –
after all, any time she'd felt like she was being followed before, he'd been the culprit... Why not this
time? However, now... she had a weapon.
At the back of her mind, she readied one of her little bottles of fear and anger, and imagined it
in a hand, hauled back as if prepared to throw a fast ball. With that “arm” cocked and ready, she
searched the trees, the shadows at their trunks, the edges of the mausoleum... When she caught
movement out of the corner of her eye, she whirled and prepared to throw her mental bottle at the
creature that had haunted her nightmares for years. Her hand flew up, palm out... And at the last
possible second, she checked her throw.
Standing between two headstones was a very large white dog with piercing blue-green eyes.
She stared at it, and slowly lowered her hand. Was this who she was supposedly waiting for? “Um...
hey...” Maybe it could talk, like the fox had... She'd never felt quite so dumb. That is, until the dog
walked behind one of the large monuments it had been standing between... and a girl, about her age,
with hair so light blonde it could've almost been the same color as the dog's fur had been, walked out of
the other side. She wore comfortable jeans, and a t-shirt with a pair of wolves on it. Spike couldn't help
but stare as the girl approached her – the white wolf on her shirt looked exactly like the dog... wolf?...
had a moment before, right down to the same color eyes.
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“Hey,” the girl said quietly. She seemed shy, nervous, as if she hadn't spoken to another person
in a very long time. “Dylan said-”
That, Spike latched onto immediately. “Dylan? You know that fox thing, too?” She didn't know
if she should be relieved or frightened. Relieved won out, though, and she felt herself mentally place
that bottle she'd been readying back onto the shelf with all the others.
The new girl smiled now, but it was still a half smile, a nervous smile. “Yeah. I've known Dylan
since I was like... two.”
Spike looked around. “Where'd he go, then? And where'd... that wolf/dog go?”
The other woman blinked. “Oh, I'm sorry... I thought Dylan had told you.” She smiled again, a
real one this time – a smile of delight, perhaps happy to finally tell another person her secret, or
perhaps the knowledge and the thought of what she could do simply brought her that much joy. “The
wolf was me.” She extended a hand now, standing right in front of Spike. “I'm Karyn Alloway. It's a
real pleasure to meet you.”
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Chapter 9: On The Road
Lainie Shafir was learning to like life on the road. Since she and her mother escaped her father
that night, they'd done little more than drive south and stay in motels. Her obsession with not fading
into anonymity was appeased by the knowledge that she could do something that no one else could do.
That made her special. That made her unique. It also, technically, made her a freak – but she didn't
choose to look at it that way. How could the girl who could make something out of nothing ever fade
into anonymity? Anyone who ever met her would know, subconsciously, that they'd met someone
important, someone unique... And that was enough protection from anonymity that she felt confident in
her current transient lifestyle.
It seemed now, nearly a month after they'd run out on her drunk, frightening, and consequently,
injured, father, that they were finally going to settle down. Her mother had rented them an apartment,
and was getting back to writing her stories for more than two hours a day. Soon the money would begin
coming, and Lainie would be able to rebuy all the things they'd simply abandoned in the previous
house. Among all of those things, it was her iPod and laptop that she missed the most. Her mother's
laptop had been in the car when they'd left, or else she'd have had to buy a new one and lose all of the
work she'd had previously. Thankfully, the laptop was Gertrude Shafir's primary computer, and housed
all of her work.
Lainie, however, quickly became bored with simply sitting in her new, mostly empty room, and
staring at blank walls all day. It would be so much quicker if she could just... manifest the things she'd
lost, the way she'd made the mallet, the knife, and the brick wall that had stopped her father's fist from
connecting with her face. But, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to make it work. She
could create things that were complicated, as long as she understood how they worked. She could make
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a working ball point pen appear on her desk. She could create a simple stapler, and staples. She had
tested this multiple times, however when she tried to make an iPod, or a laptop, she'd essentially get an
empty shell. The item looked right, but there wasn't a single working component inside of it.
It hadn't taken her long to figure out that she had to understand something before she could
create it. So she stuck to simple things – and, no matter how many times she was tempted, she never
tried to create money. She could too easily imagine being caught for passing forged bills. And while the
police would be stumped as to how a girl without even a computer to her name could create forged
money, she'd still be arrested. That was not the destiny of a super-powered woman. So she didn't create
money. No, she'd have to go about that the old fashioned way... and find herself a new job.
It hadn't taken her very long to find a job once they'd settled in. It wasn't as fun as her old job
had been, and she wasn't “on stage” anymore, but it did have a good paycheck. And as her mother was
insistent on paying all of her bills, her money could simply go to rebuying those necessities that she'd
lost in the move. Laptop, iPod... within a couple of weeks of hard work and paychecks, her room felt
like her room again. Just... cleaner, what with the lack of twenty plus years of built-up stuff.
She worked evenings at a convenience store, selling people cigarettes and booze until long after
they probably should have been smoking and drinking. She liked the cash register after the first week –
it was like a dog, or something. She had to get to know it, learn it's quirks, but then she could easily get
it to roll over and beg for treats. But prior to that, the cash drawer had been her mortal enemy –
popping out when she didn't require it (credit card transactions) and refusing to open every time a
customer handed her cash. She had a bruise on her thigh for a couple of days after the drawer had
violently insisted that it HAD to open, RIGHT THEN. Despite the fact that her leg was in it's way.
She went to work, came home, slept until ten or eleven in the morning, got up, messed around
on her new laptop, and then got ready for work again. Her mother was typing furiously that afternoon
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when she got bored and decided to go for a walk. She told her mom, of course, but just got the
customary grunt of acknowledgment that was normal when her mother was working. She put on her
iPod, and half walked, half danced out of the apartment.
She didn't work that night, had some money in her pocket, and figured maybe she'd go to a
movie or something. She jogged for a ways, listening to her current favorite song on repeat until it
ceased being her favorite song. At which point, she pulled out her iPod and was walking slowly as she
scrolled through the music on it, looking for a new favorite song.
Lainie didn't dress the way she used to – she didn't feel like she needed to. Gone were the
spaghetti strap tank tops and short skirts... Well, the short skirts, anyway. She was wearing tight jean
shorts that afternoon, and a loose t-shirt. It was a warm afternoon, and she planned on catching a cab
home if she was out after dark. She settled on a new favorite song and started it playing. A moment
later, she paused it and furrowed her brow. She saw something small and furry dart into an alley. A cat?
“Here, kitty kitty kitty...” She loved cats. That, added to her natural curiosity, made her follow
the creature into the alley. It was a brightly lit afternoon – what could possibly be in there that she
couldn't handle?
The cat was nowhere to be seen, but she heard something rattling behind a trash can. She “kitty
kitty”ed again, and slowly approached the trash can – only to jump back when a creature with striking
fur coloring, little pointed ears, and an incredibly long, bushy tail leaped up and landed atop one of the
trashcans. That wasn't a cat, certainly. It took her a moment to place the animal she'd only seen in one
nature documentary that she'd mostly slept through in school – a fox. A gray fox. An animal that, she
was almost certain, did not usually show up in city alleys.
Are you just going to stare at me?
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The voice caught her off guard. She jumped, spun around, and glared at nothing. “Alright,
who's there? Am I on Candid Camera?”
Where would I carry a camera? I do not exactly possess a bag.
Her eyes found the fox again, met it's eyes... and stared at the peculiar intelligence she saw in
those dark orbs. “Are... you talking to me?” She was a woman who could create things out of nothing...
Who's to say she was the only strange thing in the world.
Do you see anyone else I would be talking to? The fox looked around, pointedly, and swished
his long, fluffy tail, then sat, curling his tail around himself.
“It's more that you're talking at all,” she said, amazed at how quickly she was becoming
accustomed to talking with a strange little animal. Maybe it was because he was an animal that she'd
never seen in person before, and not something familiar like a dog or a cat. Somehow, she felt she'd be
freaking out a lot more if it was a talking dog. Though a fox was kind of like a cross between a cat and
a dog...
Am I talking? My mouth does not move. You hear me with your mind, not your ears.
“Telepathy,” she said quietly. She wasn't a sci-fi geek, but she was aware of some of the
terminology. “So how come you can talk and no other animals can?”
Who's to say they can't? Perhaps they are simply picky who they speak to. I know I am. He
hopped down from the trash can and approached her slowly, his tail swishing lazily behind him. I know
you are special, Lainie Shafir. I know what you can do.
Lainie blinked. “You... How?”
You are not alone. There are others like yourself, though their powers are different. He swished
his tail and made a soft churring sound. Would you like to meet them?
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She felt her heart speed up. Others, like her? Other people with powers? Different powers?
But... that would mean that she wasn't special... That she was simply one among a different multitude –
people with strange abilities, like creating things out of nothing.
You are the only one with your power that I have ever met. It was as if the little creature could
read her mind – though, given that he was apparently projecting his thoughts into her head, she
supposed that wasn't so unbelievable. And what he said did make her feel better.
“Alright... Say I do want to meet them. Where are these people? Is there like... a monthly
support meeting or something? PPA? Powered People Anonymous?”
The fox tilted his head and seemed to raise an eyebrow at her. Follow me, he said, finally. He
turned and swished his tail, obviously beckoning for her to follow. Lainie watched him for a moment,
then broke into a jog to catch up. She had no idea where she was being lead, but somewhere in her
heart she felt that the road she was traveling was the right one. And not the physical road beneath her
sneakers, but... the road that seemed to branch out from the pawsteps of the fox in front of her. She had
the profound realization that she was walking toward her destiny... and it was getting away. The fox had
broken into a run.
“Hey! You! Wait!” She sped up and ran after him. Wherever he was going, she wasn't going to
miss a moment of the journey.
Lainie stared up at the wide open wrought iron gates of the Hallowed Oaks cemetery. “You've
got to be kidding me.”
They are within. The fox was standing upon one of the gate supports, his head above Lainie's at
the moment. Come on. They are waiting for you.
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“In a cemetery? I've NEVER been in a cemetery! It's full of... dead people.” She shuddered.
Yes. I understand. You are creation – death is your opposite. The fox swished his tail and
hopped down, landing gently on the ground before her. Sometimes we must face that which frightens us
the most to discover our destinies.
“Yeah... but a cemetery?” She made a face. What was she afraid of? She'd nearly been raped.
Her father had tried to break her face with his fist. And she was afraid of dead bodies, six feet under the
surface of the ground, inside sealed boxes where she would never see, touch, or even smell them?
“You're right. OK. Lead the way.” She squared her shoulders and followed the fox into the cemetery.
Almost as a counterpoint to his fast running on the way to the cemetery, the fox's movements
were now slow, deliberate. They walked slowly, the animal just far enough ahead of her that it was
clear she was following him. They made their way around headstones and deeper into the cemetery, up
and down several hills, past mausoleums. When Lainie spoke, her voice was a whisper, either out of
respect for, or fear of, the dead. “I had no idea this place was so huge...”
Yes. It is a place of peace and power. The fox picked his way around a buried headstone – he
was careful never to step on one. As a result, so was she.
“Power?”
You will understand in time. He lead the way deeper into the cemetery, then stopped suddenly.
They are beyond this building. Go, Lainie Shafir, and meet your destiny.
She opened her mouth to ask him why he wasn't going... but was cut off when he simply...
vanished. She'd been following the creature for miles now. She'd felt his warm breath on her bare leg.
She'd felt his tail brush her skin. And now he'd vanished... as if he'd never been there. She stared at the
spot he'd been for a long moment, then swallowed hard. She did the only thing she could do – she
slowly made her way around the outside of the mausoleum.
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On the far side, she saw a young woman, dressed all in black, wearing... was that a dog collar
around her neck? The woman was staring up into the sky, her mouth slightly open.
“Um... Hello?”
The woman with the collar jumped and turned, glaring. “Shit! Don't sneak up on me like that...
who're you? Wait, let me guess... Dylan brought you?”
Lainie blinked. “Dylan? I followed this gray fox...”
She nodded. “Yeah, that's him, the sneaky bastard... I've only known him for a couple of hours
and I know he's sneaky.” She turned and extended a hand to Lainie. “I'm Spike. That's Karyn, up
there.”
Lainie shook her hand before she registered what the other girl had said. “Lainie... Uh.. Up
where?” She looked up, but all she saw was a bird of prey circling high above them.
Spike pointed... at the bird. “Up there. Hang on. I'll get her down.” She stuck both pinkie
fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Lainie managed not to cover her ears with her
hands, but didn't succeed in not wincing. Then her eyes went wide when the whistle was answered by a
sharp “Tssseeeeeeeer!” from above.
“Whoa! Are you a... a... falconer, or something?” Lainie asked Spike, her eyes wide. The girl
wasn't even wearing a leather glove... though, on her, with her goth style, it wouldn't have even looked
out of place.
The goth girl raised an eyebrow at Lainie. “Are you kidding me? She was just showing me what
she can do.”
Lainie's mouth opened, then closed again. She didn't know what to make of that statement.
Instead, her eyes wandered back up to the sky just in time to see the hawk tuck her wings back and
drop like a stone toward the ground. Her mouth opened in a soft “O,” as she watched the raptor
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plummet toward earth. At the last possible second, the bird's wings flared, flapped, and the hawk came
to an amazingly soft (especially given the speed with which she'd aimed herself at the ground) landing
atop a headstone.
“Wow,” Lainie said softly. She stared at the bird of prey – some kind of hawk, she could tell... It
looked like the one that was so famous for living in New York City... What did they call that hawk?
Pale... something.
Spike was watching the new girl, however, not the hawk. She didn't seem to have any obvious
powers... when last Spike checked, cheerleading wasn't a magical ability. At least not one that could
rival causing death with a thought or shape-shifting. Speaking of....
Lainie watched, almost uncomprehendingly, as the hawk jumped off the top of the headstone,
landing in front of them with a quick flutter of it's powerful wings, and there, before her eyes...
changed. The hawk seemed to glow from within, and that glow grew. In a split second, there wasn't a
hawk standing in front of them – but a girl, about their age, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a pair of
wolves on it.
“Hi,” the hawk-turned-girl said to Lainie. “I'm Karyn.”
Lainie Shafir just stared. When she spoke, it came out as a stammer. “I... I'm Lainie. Lainie
Shafir.”
Karyn smiled. It was a shy smile, but there was a glow about her that made it seem friendly, all
the same. “Nice to meet you, Lainie.”
Dylan gazed down at the three from where he stood atop the mausoleum, his fox muzzle
opening in a small, panting smile.
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Chapter 10: Coming Together
One week earlier....
“...kitsune...”
No... Well, yes, but no. Obakemono, to be precise. Dylan tilted his head at Karyn, his five tails
curling around him with the visual of a flower somehow twirling it's petals. That is, if you prefer to use
the original Japanese.
Karyn swallowed and shook her head. “I've never heard of Oba... that. Kitsune's I've heard of.”
Dylan gave his half barked laugh. His bark was deeper in this larger form, but not unlike other
things she'd heard from him in various forms in the past – his coyote, for instance... Though this form
was even bigger than that one. It is Obakemono, simply meaning “shape-shifter,” or, literally, “a thing
that changes.” However, as you know, I'm far more than that.
Karyn felt... hurt. The emotion surprised her a little, but it did make sense – he had been her
best friend for her entire life, and he'd never told her what he really was. “Why didn't you tell me
before now? All this time... You've let me believe I was losing my mind-”
You didn't really believe that. You would have stopped talking to me if you did.
She glared at him. “Or maybe you just want to think I would have. You're all I've got, Dylan.
You always have been. I'm not going to stop talking to you because I think you're a delusion. You're
still the one... now the ONLY one... I can talk to about my writing, my artwork.... My life beyond what
my parents see. If I cut myself off from you... I really would lose my mind.”
To his credit, Dylan looked cowed. He lowered his head and stared down at the carpet, his eyes
closed for a long moment. I understand. He raised his eyes to meet hers again. I'm sorry.
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“You keep saying that we've grown up together, Dylan... I know we have. I just can't believe
you hid this from me for so long.”
I had no choice, the giant fox said, his middle tail lifting, then thumping on the floor with
emphasis. I could not reveal my true self to you until you knew your true self.
Karyn shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair, stopping with her palm pressed
against her forehead. “Yeah. Back to that. You're telling me that I can somehow...”
Change what you are – as I can. That is why I was drawn to your energy when you were so
young. I was, and ever will be, your friend and guardian. He stood to all fours and met her eyes. His
gaze was serious as always, but somehow seemed even more poignant by his size, and the five tails,
swishing slowly behind him. But now the time has come for me to show you who you truly are.
Karyn rubbed her temples. “I get the feeling this means I'm moving out sooner than I'd
planned.”
I did not say that you could not come back, Karyn.
“You didn't say I had to leave, either, but I figured that part out on my own.” She held the fox's
eyes for a long moment, then slipped out of her chair to kneel in front of him and held her arms out.
“Indulge me with one last proof, my friend.”
Dylan didn't have to be asked twice. He'd spent his entire life with her having to make sure that
his touches were the barest possible, that he was as close to non-corporeal as he could possibly be. In
two steps, her arms wrapped around him, and his head dropped down over her shoulder, his right front
paw wrapping around her waist as best he could to return the hug.
Karyn's eyes squeezed tight shut, but tears escaped them both. He was warm, soft... and alive.
She could feel the beat of his heart, his breathing ruffled her hair, and her fingers were buried in the fur
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of his back. He was real. It all was real. When the hug broke and he stepped back from her, she met his
eyes again. “I'm ready.”
Dylan's mouth opened in a panting grin. Then come with me, little one.
“You're... kidding, right?”
Karyn stood at the edge of the drop off, several miles from her house. The street was behind
her, hidden by a high hedge. Cars controlled by drunk drivers had a tendency to go flying off that edge
regularly, but as the hedge was in one piece, it obviously hadn't happened in awhile. She leaned over
and looked down, then shook her head. “No. Dylan... I can't. I'm afraid of heights.”
You've flown before.
She glared at him. “I was a little kid! I don't even know how I'm supposed to do this.”
Imagine your shape – see what you wish to be. As she watched, a cocoon of light seemed to
envelop Dylan, and a moment later his hawk form was standing before her. And you will be it.
“You're telling me I can be anything.” She shook her head. “Dylan... part of me still thinks I'm
crazy.”
Ignore that part. It is what will make you fail. When you were a child, all you wanted to do was
get off that roof, remember? You wanted to go home. You knew you couldn't jump...
“And I knew that pigeon I was watching could just fly...” Suddenly she blinked and stood up
straight. “Dylan... Fly. I need to watch you fly.” This is crazy, she couldn't help thinking. I'm standing
on a ledge, asking an invisible hawk to fly so I can watch him and then... what? Become a hawk? And I
thought I was losing my mind before...
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Dylan didn't need another word of urging. With a rush of wings, he was in the air. He caught a
thermal given off by the street and began to spiral up. Karyn watched him, intently. She wanted this.
She wanted it badly. How often had everyone dreamed of flying, and here she was, given the chance to
live what every kid dreams of... She just had to get past her own disbelief.
Her eyes followed Dylan's flight path as he swooped and flapped and soared. She watched the
way his feathers adjusted, the way his wings moved, the way he held his talons clenched up underneath
him, his red tail fanned wide, catching the light of the sun. She followed the graceful loops he made in
the air, and took a deep breath in. She'd love to be up there with him... that kind of freedom.
Suddenly, she was vaguely aware of a slight feeling of falling. She went to put her hands out to
catch her, only to find that her arms didn't... bend the way they were supposed to. Incredulously, her
eyes returned to Dylan... and this time she FELT her eyes zoom in on him – he was much further away
than she'd thought he was. She turned her head... and saw a brown wing stretched out from her
shoulder. She looked down and saw whitish chest feathers, which fluffed, then laid flat, revealing the
killing talons in her yellow hawk's feet.
You did it!! Dylan swooped past, his mental voice a crow of joy. Fly with me, little one! Fly!
He buzzed her, and before she knew what she was doing, her wings were beating and her feet
were running in an awkward jogging hop – her knees bent the wrong way now, after all, and then she'd
launched herself off the edge and into the air. There was a sickening moment when she was sure she'd
fall, and then she felt her wings catch the air. It was as if the body itself knew what to do, just as it had
been when she'd shifted into a pigeon when she was a little girl. Her tail made minute adjustments, her
wings flapped when they needed too, and she quickly found herself soaring up to meet Dylan at the
bellies of the clouds.
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“I did it! I really did it! Dylan, I'm flying!!” She could hear herself, and she was aware that
somehow, so could he. She opened her beak, and heard the scream of a hawk come from her throat.
“Tssseeeeeeeer!”
Dylan answered her screech with one of his own, then lead her further from the embankment
they'd flown off of. Together, they soared over her neighborhood, past the old school, and further than
she'd ever been before. Laughing with joy, they dove together, Karyn relaxing into her new body more
every moment. Her fear of heights was gone – how could you fear something so beautiful?
Karyn began a game of snatching the leaves from trees. Diving, pulling up at the last second
and grabbing a single leaf in her talons. Dylan would follow suit, though he missed more often than she
did. Despite the body being new to her, it was as if she just... knew how to use it. They swooped
together through the glass canyons of downtown, soared past the sports stadiums and the amusement
parks. They banked west until the ocean came into view, letting out dual hawk screeches in pure joy at
flying together.
Hours later, they returned to Karyn's apartment complex, and landed upon the roof. She sat
there, on top of an air conditioner, Dylan by her side, and fluffed her feathers. “This... this is the most
amazing thing ever, Dylan.”
You've only just begun, little one. He gazed at her, and his beak opened in what she immediately
recognized as a smile. Had he been human... or had she, for that matter, she might have kissed him
then. But hawks don't have lips, so they simply sat together, feathers fluffed, bodies pressed against
each other in the cool of the evening, and watched the sun set.
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In the following few weeks, they worked every day. Karyn learned how to take many forms –
from the smallest mouse (she refused to go any smaller... as she put it, “Insects are not something I like
to LOOK at, let alone BE”), to a creature that hadn't existed in the world for ten thousand years – the
dire wolf. In all her studies, there had been no animal that had fascinated her like the giant wolf of the
last ice age. And while she had never seen one alive, she had seen modern wolf skeletons, and dire wolf
skeletons. She'd seen artist's representations and sculptures. It was more than enough for her to create
the body. Her favorite forms quickly became the dire wolf – something that could be mistaken for a
large, bulky dog until you got too close – and the hawk, something common enough that a pair of them
flying around wasn't noticed at all.
During this time, she also continued to work on her art. All the money she'd saved up from
doing artwork commissions for people over the internet was going to go very quickly once she moved
out. It was a benefit that, when she changed shape, her clothing and anything held within the clothing
changed with her – as long as her wallet was on her, in a jeans pocket or wherever, it would be there
when she changed back. As she and Dylan discussed, the only reason she'd need to keep an apartment
at all would be to have an address and a place she could have her parents come visit. With her shapeshifting ability, she could easily survive each night as a different animal, beg food from humans, or
even catch her own. There would be no need for money unless she had a human craving... like a
cheeseburger, or a warm bed to sleep in. However, when she'd talked about going around to apartments
and pricing single bedrooms, Dylan had been adamant.
You won't need that, he said. It is almost time.
She'd sighed and asked him to please stop being so cryptic, but he refused to say any more.
Less than a week later, during one of their flights, he lead her to Hallowed Oaks Cemetery and
perched with her atop a mausoleum.
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Wait here.
“Why? Where are you going?” She tilted her hawk head and blinked at him confusedly. Dylan
never left her alone when they were out together.
To find the others... It's time for you to meet them. You are not the only one with a special power,
Karyn. The three of you will be stronger together than you could ever be alone. He fluffed his feathers
for emphasis, and his talons gripped the concrete bar he was sitting on tighter.
She glared at him – and a hawk's glare is a truly fierce thing. “You've been hiding things from
me again.”
I had to, the Obakemono said quietly. I don't have a choice sometimes, Karyn. The way he said
it, she knew he was telling the truth. He'd told her earlier that he was bound by the rules that governed
his kind, and one of the rules was that he couldn't explain the rules. Annoying, but she'd accepted it –
despite being cryptic, he hadn't steered her wrong once. And she had to put some stock in the fact that
she'd known him for over twenty years, even though she hadn't had any idea that he was what he was
for most of that time.
“Fine,” she said with a shake of her head. “I'll wait here.”
Thank you, and he really did sound relieved. I will not be long. In one smooth, fluid movement,
he shifted from hawk to fox, and leaped down off the roof of the mausoleum, running off across the
cemetery. She watched him through the telescopic vision of the hawk's eyes, until she lost sight of him
as he crested a hill. She relaxed and settled down to wait. He'd be back... her big problem now would
be meeting these new people... She wasn't exactly practiced in social graces outside of her own family.
She spread her wings and fluttered to the ground, then shifted directly into a white wolf form –
not her dire, just a normal white wolf. In fact, the same white wolf that was on the shirt her human form
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was wearing that day. She walked into the shadows under a big weeping willow tree, and laid down.
She'd wait here. It wouldn't be as nerve wracking if she couldn't see them coming.
Current time...
Dylan watched the three women introduce themselves to each other. Finally, the triad was
together. He stood, his fur gleaming in the sunlight, his five tails swishing dramatically behind him. He
gave a deep bark that drew the three women's attention to the giant fox standing atop the mausoleum,
and gazed down at them, meeting each one's eyes in turn.
Nature, he said, meeting Karyn's eyes. Is a profound power source. She opens herself to you,
offers you her many forms. With those forms come weaknesses. You must always be aware of who you
are at all times, that you do not lose yourself. When Karyn nodded, Dylan shifted his attention to Spike.
Death, the darkest source of power one may possess. He saw her stiffen, and raised a paw in a
gesture of appeasement. No power is bad, Spike. As all of you must, you must be careful how you use it.
Do not let your anger or fear consume you, or your power may change form and alert the Dark Ones
themselves. Spike looked like she wanted to say something, but Dylan turned his attention to Lainie
before she could get a word out.
Creation – and lust. Your source of power is versatile, limited only by your imagination. But
beware lust – it's effect on those around you cannot be controlled. And while Karyn can turn into a
beast, it is your power that releases the beast within men. Guard yourself well, and all will be as it
should. Lainie's eyes widened with understanding – pieces of her life falling into place unlike they ever
had before.
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In this place of calm, this place of power, I have brought you together. This world needs you.
Darkness, light, and life must work together to maintain balance. Do not forget all I have told you
today... This is merely the first lesson. Dylan's tails fanned out behind him and his eyes glowed bright
orange. Today, the power of three is born.
The girls looked at the fox, then at each other. No words were exchanged... suddenly, it was as
if they didn't need to. They were the only three members of the most exclusive club on the planet.
Spike was the first to put her fist toward the middle of the triangle formed by where the three of them
stood. Karyn met her eyes, then extended her fist to touch Spike's. Finally, Lainie's joined it. Whatever
happened, wherever this went from here... From this day forward, they were in this together. No matter
what.
Outside the cemetery, the Hat Man lurked in the shadows. He hadn't succeeded in swaying the
dark one... but he would. Oh, he would... Her power would feed his master for centuries... He wasn't
troubled by the other two – though one had a power that drew his interest... It was nothing compared to
the dark one. Perhaps he would take her, and the innocent girl, too, as snacks for himself... But the dark
one would be saved for his master.
Oh yes... Kerboros would feast... and soon.
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Chapter 11: Class In Session
Spike had never really had close friends. As it turned out, neither had Lainie or Karyn. As they
sat in the cemetery after Spike showed them her quiet spot, and the still fresh grave of the squirrel, they
discovered that they had more in common than just their abilities.
“My friends kept moving away,” Karyn said. “It's like my parents are stuck in that... that
damned apartment and can't get out.”
“My parents are like that, too,” Spike said with a shake of her head. “Only, instead of not
moving... ALL they do is move. Every couple of years, my dad gets restless, packs up the whole family
and the next thing I knew, I was in a new school district. I gave up on making friends after awhile.”
“Sounds like a midlife crisis kind of thing,” Lainie said thoughtfully, leaning back against the
side of Marshall Winters' headstone.
“Yeah, if he hadn't been doing it all his life. My mom said once that he was “born a rolling
stone,” and is just... destined to keep goin' until he hits something.” Spike shook her head. “I decided
that I didn't want to be around when that happened, so I moved out.”
“My dad's an addict,” Lainie said after a moment... then, as if she'd broken some sort of dam,
the rest came flooding out. “No matter what I did, it was never good enough for him... He always was
so focused on the drugs and the booze that nothing else mattered but his music.” She bit her lip. “The
night me and my mom moved out, he called me... all kinds of horrible things.”
“You aren't horrible,” Karyn said, leaning over and putting a hand over Lainie's. She'd never
been one for casual touching before today – but she felt as if she'd known these two as long as she'd
known Dylan. “First of all, you're beautiful.”
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Lainie gave a soft laugh. “Yeah. That's my other problem... Guys don't want to leave me alone. I
make it really clear that I don't want them, and they still... try to force it.”
That is your ability, Lainie. Dylan was lying on a low branch of one of the overhanging trees,
gazing down at them.
The “creator” looked up at the Obakemono and raised an eyebrow. “Alright, smart guy. How do
I turn that OFF? Because, honestly? I don't like going through my life never knowing when I'm going
to be raped.”
You cannot turn off your passive ability without “turning off” your active one as well. The fox
hopped down out of the tree and landed lightly, swishing his tail. However, you can control it. Aim it.
Have it effect only those you wish it to.
Lainie cocked her head to one side and watched the fox carefully. “I'm listening. How do I do
that?”
Your siblings of power will simply draw energy from your lust ability – the effect of it on normal
people will not effect them. Therefore, you must focus some part of your attention on Spike, or Karyn,
or both, at all times. Imagine the lust as a river, and you are diverting the stream.
“Yeah, because that works so well in movies,” Spike said wryly. “The water always goes
EXACTLY where they want it to, doesn't it.”
“It's worth a shot,” Lainie said quietly. “Dylan hasn't told us anything that wasn't true yet.” She
looked back and forth between Spike and Karyn, memorizing their features. She then closed her eyes
and focused, imagining their faces in detail. She'd always been good with matching names to faces, no
matter how recently she'd met the person. It was a valuable skill when one was on stage as much as she
had been earlier in her life, and now it aided her even more.
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Karyn drew in a sharp breath, feeling a wash of power come over her. “Wow...” She glanced at
Spike, to find the dark powered one staring back at her, with an identical 'whoa, did you feel that?!'
expression.
As long as Lainie is boosting your powers, you must be careful. Your powers are not as stable in
their hyper state, and may... do things on their own.
Karyn looked at her lifelong best friend. “Are you saying I could just... randomly shape-shift
without meaning to?”
Spike, for her part, looked terrified. “Or that I could kill someone by LOOKING at them?”
This is why you must be in control of your ability – and not allow your abilities to control you.
Dylan swished his tail and sat in the center of the triangle the girls had instinctively sat down to create.
Together, the three of you are more powerful than any one of you alone. Your powers work in concert.
Creation, life, and destruction. Dylan looked at Lainie. With Karyn present, you do not need to
understand something completely in order to create it – as long as it is a biological organism.
“You're... saying I can create animals out of nothing.” It wasn't a question, but Lainie needed to
hear the response anyway.
Yes. To protect yourself or your power siblings. When you are finished with these shade
creatures, Spike's ability will cause them to fade back into nothingness. Dylan hopped up on the rock
that Spike usually leaned against when she came here alone, and licked his paw absently. Spike, your
ability is not something to fear. Though it is dark, and can be abused terribly, the same can be said for
either of your power siblings' powers.
“Why do you keep calling us that?” Spike said with a snort. “We aren’t sisters. We never even
MET before today!”
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Ah, but siblings you are. Bound together by your powers and the energy that supports all things.
The fox gave an exaggerated yawn. If you wish me to call you something else, then I will.
“I like it,” Karyn said with a smile. “I’ve never had sisters, or siblings… whatever.”
“You don’t want them. They’re nothing but annoyances and pains,” Spike said, her voice almost
a growl. Her sister had been almost as bad as her mother when it came to essentially screwing her over
and not caring that she’d done so. “They ask you to do everything for them, drive them places, loan
them money, and they never give anything back.”
“Well, then we won’t be that kind of siblings,” Lainie said decisively. “Though, honestly, I like
“power sisters” better than “power siblings.” When last I checked, the only male around us is you, fox
boy.”
Dylan laughed, a barking sound aloud, emphasized by his mental laughter. It has been many
years since anyone but Karyn has addressed me so informally, Lainie. Training the three of you will
truly be a pleasure.
“Why do you have to train us at all?” Spike was staring at him, now, her hand in her pocket,
fingering Weylin’s dog tag. “Why can’t we just figure this shit out for ourselves? We’ve done fine
before today…”
Have you? And what, Spike, do you truly know of the world? He stalked, slowly toward the goth
girl, laying his ears back, growing in size with every step until his large kitsune form stood before her.
You are lost, in a world of frightening beings. Would you rather not have an explanation? Continue
moving through your life, haunted at every turn by beings only you can see?
Spike almost choked. “How… how do you know about those? What are they?”
Karyn looked confused, and a glance at Lainie only earned her a shrug of similar confusion.
“What beings? Spike, what’s he talking about?”
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Spike glared at Karyn, then at Dylan. “Fine. Now that you’ve made an idiot of me in front of
them, you might as well tell me what they are.”
Dylan sat and curled his five tails around himself, giving a soft growl. They are creatures of
pure darkness… beings of the in between. Between darkness and light, between night and day… His
eyes found Karyn, and then darted back to Spike. Between life and death.
“So they’re… what? Ghosts? Evil? That one I saw I KNOW had to be evil… Nothing good has
eyes or teeth like that…”
“Eyes…. And teeth?” Lainie looked shaken. “Will someone please explain what we’re talking
about?”
Spike sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her right index finger and thumb. “Fine. As
long as I can remember, I’ve seen… shadows that move. Sometimes they look like animals, other times
they look like people.” She sighed. “Lately, there’s been this one in particular. It’s… following me. It’s
about seven feet tall, looks like it’s wearing a wide brimmed hat. I’ve seen ones with hats before, but
this one… It’s different.”
Karyn drew in a slow breath. “It has red eyes, doesn’t it.” Somehow, the statement wasn’t a
question. Spike’s attention darted to the shy girl.
“How did you know that? How could you possibly know that?!”
Karyn flinched away from Spike’s accusatory tone. “I… I’ve seen things like that before. When
I was little, before Dylan really stayed with me all the time, I used to see this… floating black thing in
my room. I swear, it looked like a human skull. I.. I tried to make it go away. I tried to tell my mother
about it – she just said I needed to pray to Jesus and it would go away, but it didn’t.” She looked at
Dylan, and there was something in her eyes that made Lainie pause and raise an eyebrow. “Not until
Dylan chased it away.”
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“And you didn’t ask him what it was?!” Spike was incredulous – if she’d had someone she
could ask what the hell the things she saw were when she was a kid, she sure as hell would’ve asked.
“I was… like two! All I cared about was that it was gone, and it never came back.”
It was a simple minion. Dylan swished his tails and slowly laid down in the grass. Nowhere
near as dangerous as the creature you have described, Spike.
“I knew it was dangerous,” Spike muttered. “So what is it?”
It’s kind has no names… Only those of elite status in the between worlds have names, and those
are usually names given them by humans who have been unfortunate enough to have encountered them.
“I’ve been calling it the Hat Man,” Spike said with a snort. “Creative name, huh?”
“Appropriate, it sounds like,” Lainie said with a placating smile. She’d never seen anything like
the creatures her new friends were describing – but if she had to imagine, they looked a lot like the way
she imagined her father’s addiction in physical form. So, maybe she had encountered the creatures –
they’d just hidden behind her father’s familiar face.
As good a name as any for a creature that is not worthy of one, even in the eyes of it’s superiors.
Dylan sat up and drew in a slow breath. The being you have described is a messenger of a greater evil.
I am well acquainted with him and his kind. However, it is not the Hat Man you need to fear – he is
incapable of hurting you.
“The way you say that, it sounds like there is something we need to fear.” Lainie got straight to
the point, leaning forward and glaring at him. “Spit it out.”
Dylan’s eyes closed for a long moment. The ancient Greeks called him Kerboros. It means
“beast of the pit.” He is the master of the in between realms… But that has never been where he has
desired to stay. He swished his tails and looked at each woman in turn. If I may, I would like to tell you
a story. It is a true story, and it is quite relevant to our situation today.
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Karyn, Lainie, and Spike exchanged a look. Karyn spoke first. “I want to hear the story.
Especially if it’s important to what we can do, and what we’ve seen.”
Lainie nodded. “Yeah…” She blinked, then looked at her watch. “Shit! My mom’s going to be
so worried about me, though… I have to get home.”
Spike furrowed her brow and checked her own watch, then did a double-take. “Oh, damnit…
I’m late for work, too.” She smirked at the fox, standing up. “Story time will have to wait, fox boy.”
She looked around at the others. “Can we meet here tomorrow?”
Lainie nodded. “I’ll be here,” she said quietly – something told her she wouldn’t miss it for the
world.
Karyn nodded as well, and watched as the other two walked away. “Do I have to wait for
tomorrow for the story, too, Dylan?”
The fox opened his mouth in a smile. You will want to hear it with your “sisters,” little one.
Come along – let’s go home.
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Chapter 12: Story Time
The next day seemed like a long way away, as far as Lainie was concerned. She spent that entire
evening going over and over in her head what she’d heard of Greek mythology, trying to figure out if
she’d ever heard the name Kerboros before. She drew a blank, over and over again, but was unwilling
to potentially spoil Dylan’s story the next day by looking it up on her laptop. So she waited, and tried to
act normal. She watched TV with her mother in their apartment, but excused herself to head to bed
earlier than usual. Her excuse was that she wanted to start a new exercise regimen and would be doing
some walking every morning until she shed the two pounds that were hanging on her since the holidays
of the previous year.
Her mother was so caught up in her current work, a deadline right around the corner, that she
barely acknowledged her daughter’s explanation. It made Lainie wonder why she’d bothered wasting a
perfectly good excuse. She should’ve probably saved that for anything else that came up in the
future… Like what, she didn’t know. But something was bound to happen and she’d regret using up
that excuse, even though she didn’t normally lie to her mother. What was she supposed to say? “Sorry,
mom, but I have to get up early tomorrow to meet with two other young women who have weird
powers like mine. What power? Oh, I can create things out of nothing, didn’t I tell you?” Yeah. While
she could easily prove it, she didn’t feel that her mom really needed to know about it. She didn’t want
her to worry, either. And what response could there be OTHER than worry from finding out that your
daughter was possibly tangling with some really dark powers?
Speaking of darkness, she couldn’t help but wonder about the Goth girl’s power, and those
creatures she’d described. Maybe Dylan’s explanation would bring it all into focus, but in the mean
time, she felt very lost. The fox, or Obakemono, as he’d called himself, seemed to know what he was
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talking about, but Lainie wasn’t sure she was ready to trust the word of a talking mythical creature. Her
power was creation, and she supposed that did imply a lust component, which did explain everything
from her father’s drug dealer to Darren at Homecoming. However, that didn’t stop it from freaking her
out more than a little bit to realize that, because of something she didn’t know about and could barely
control, she was in constant danger of being raped.
Lainie lay in bed, her room dark, her stuffed teddy bear clutched to her chest, staring up at the
dark ceiling. She imagined what it would be like to be constantly followed by shadow things she could
barely see – and then, with a chill that seemed to start at her toes and go all the way to the hairs on the
back of her neck, she realized that she probably WAS being followed by the shadow things, her power
just prevented her from seeing them. Frightened, she manifested a trip wire of sorts around her bed. It
was quite awhile longer before she fell asleep.
Spike was wired that night – it was as if she’d drunk one of the giant cups of coffee that they
sold where she worked, and then topped that off with one of those giant energy drinks. Finding out that
she wasn’t alone, even if she wasn’t in company that had quite as fucked up lives as she did, still…
company! There was a lot to be said for knowing you aren’t crazy. And that other girl, the shapeshifter… Karyn. She’d said she’d seen things like the Hat Man before. And if that wasn’t enough – the
entire way home, all the time at work last night, and all this morning, she hadn’t seen a single shadow,
Hat Man or otherwise. It was the first “free” night she’d had in years, and she felt like celebrating. She
stayed up most of the night, watching movies and listening to music. She finally fell asleep around four
that morning. Her alarm went off at eight.
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Karyn was finding it a little easier to sleep these days. Maybe because shape-shifting did use up
so much energy that she found herself exhausted at the end of the day, but also because she felt more…
satisfied and secure in herself than she had in her entire life. Her sketchbooks were filling up with
drawings of the way the world looked from the air, or subtly shaded drawings trying to capture the
depth in a canine’s black and white vision. The magic in her newest novel took a turn for the realistic,
and her shape-shifters went from pain-filled transformations to easy and simple ones. It took away from
her word count, but it became more believable to her.
That night, she crawled into bed and snuggled up against Dylan, who’d gone from sleeping at
the foot of her bed as he had for most of her life to sleeping stretched out beside her. His warm form
was the biggest comfort she could imagine – much like when she was very young, she once again had
no idea what she would do without him.
“Dylan?”
Mmm?
“How long will you live? Will… will you live longer than me?”
Yes. Dylan’s voice sounded… quiet, and disturbed. He rolled over so that he was facing her, his
muzzle an inch from her face. You will live longer than most humans, given your ability. You will be
able to shift forms and live the lifetime of that form, and as long as you shift again prior to it’s death,
you will survive. However, even your power will eventually exhaust itself… After which, I will continue
to live.
“Do Obakemonos ever die?” Her voice was quiet as well, and she gazed into his dark fox’s
eyes.
Yes… and no. We can be killed many ways, but not by simple aging. In your terms, I suppose…
we live forever. His tail thumped once on the bed – a gesture that Karyn knew well… Dylan was upset.
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She actually smiled, despite the upsetting nature of their conversation. “You don’t like the idea
of living without me, do you?”
He met her eyes. No. He craned his neck forward until his forehead rested softly against hers,
the warmth of his fur against her skin, and one paw reached out, lying across her hand on her pillow.
Karyn whispered, softly, not moving so as not to break the magic of this soft, intimate touch. “I
can’t imagine living without you, either.”
They fell asleep like that; her arm draped across his soft body, his paw on her other hand, their
foreheads touching.
The story I have to tell you is older than I am, Dylan said. The four of them had gathered in the
cemetery again the next day, and were eagerly awaiting his story. It was passed down to me by the
Obakemono that trained me in the ancient ways of our race. It is a story of darkness, of despair… but
also of hope. Are you ready for me to begin?
The three women exchanged a look, and then nodded at the fox in unison. Dylan, who was in
his large kitsune form, reared up on his hind legs and weaved his paws gracefully through the air.
Suddenly, it was as if they were all flying. The cemetery seemed to fall away, and below them, the
tableau of ancient Greece was laid out. They could see the temples, so ancient in their own time, but
shining with white marble, new and beautiful in this vision.
In a time when magic was the norm, and the world was explained by Gods and Goddess’ high
above earth atop Mount Olympus, such dark things were also normal. There were parts of the city that
few people would ever visit at night, for fear of being haunted by a specter, which they called skiá, or
shadow. Dylan walked out over the vision world, seemingly standing on nothing, and looking down at
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the people going about their daily lives. We have no name for these creatures now, though many people
do still see them. However, they are always seen more by people who hold some belief in the old ways.
These skiá were considered to be many things – from the ghosts of the wicked, somehow released from
Hades to wander the Earth in darkness, to the embodiment of the evil eye. However, those of us who
exist more in the spirit realm than in the “real world,” where you live, know their true nature.
Dylan swished his tail and gestured below, where the world as they could see it suddenly
seemed to go slightly transparent. In between, over and around the humans moving around, they
suddenly became aware of other shapes. Humanoid, mostly, but there were some obvious beasts,
lurching creatures of four oddly shaped limbs and strange loping gaits. Their world was one of
darkness, constant shadows… and curled around the mountain itself was a large, roiling mass. As they
watched, their stomachs twisting with an instinctive fear, a massive head lifted, a snort of black flame
exited a cavernous mouth, gold eyes blinked, and then the head returned to it’s rest.
Dylan waited for the giant dragon to rest again – and a dragon it was, there was simply no other
word for it. That is Kerboros, the ruler of the in between realms. When a human spirit goes awry after
death, it is a glimpse of Kerboros’ fiery maw that has brought life to the legends of a fire and brimstone
hell for the wicked. He loves the taste of human flesh, but because he exists only in the in between
worlds, he rarely is able to satisfy his terrible hunger. However, once, he did.
The scene below them changed – an entire continent, off the coast of Greece, with similar
building styles and yet obviously advanced technology laid out before them. The in between world was
once again invisible.
Spike’s eyes lit up. “Atlantis?! It really existed?!”
It did. Dylan’s mouth opened for a moment in a panting grin at the Goth girl’s excitement. They
stood, for a long time, and watched life go on in the lost continent. They had flying machines,
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submarines, so many things that would not be invented again for centuries – and some things that
hadn’t been invented again. They had some sort of natural electricity that everything ran on that had
none of the downsides that modern electricity did. Dylan drew in a breath, drawing the girl’s attention
to his voice, though their eyes continued to roam the world below them.
Their technology far outreached their own grasp. Their king believed that they could perhaps
cheat death itself. Become immortal, by tapping into the world of the dead and simply blocking them
from leaving their bodies. It was his family’s legacy over many generations. Finally, their masterful
machine was ready to test. It would generate a field that would essentially prevent souls from leaving
their bodies. However, the Kings, having been unaware of the true nature of the in between world, had
tapped into it, rather than into the world of the dead. The moment they turned that machine on… their
hope for immortality became their nightmare.
The scene below them changed again. Now the in between world was not only visible, it was
spilling over into the true world. Skiás ran rampant, their monstrous forms ripping through the innocent
civilians in the street. The armies of Atlantis fought back, weapons of energy and incredible blasting
power blew skiá after skiá away, taking pieces of the cities with it. It looked as if the Atlanteans were
going to win, were going to push the in between world back where it belonged. And that was when
Kerboros tore through the rip between worlds.
Dylan narrated the carnage below, pulling back far enough that they could now see the entire
continent again. Kerboros was hungry. He tore a hole in the veil between worlds and surged through.
He was too powerful to be harmed by the Atlanteans weapons, though they did weaken him over time.
He ate people, buildings; great chunks of the land itself were scorched and burned. The King and his
surviving cabinet quickly realized that this massacre was their own doing; their own quest for
immortality had doomed the very people they hoped to save. Together, the King and his loyal men came
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up with a last ditch plan – it would destroy their world… But perhaps it would save the rest of the earth
from the monsters they had unleashed.
The picture zoomed in again. They watched the King and two other men working frantically at
the machine they’d hoped would be their salvation and had instead become their doom. The palace was
falling around them. The massive black dragon, almost the size of a mountain in and of himself tore at
the marble with his claws and ate all those who dared to counter him.
The King was successful. The picture zoomed out again and they watched as explosions rocked
the entire continent, lighting up the then night sky as if it was mid-afternoon. It set off earthquakes,
tsunamis, even volcanic eruptions around the world. When it was over, the portal was closed… and
Atlantis was gone.
“And in a single day and night of destruction the island of Atlantis disappeared in the depths of
the sea,” Dylan quoted Plato as the vision around them faded, leaving three shaken young women and
one kitsune once again standing in the cemetery. Dylan met each of their eyes in turn. Kerboros has
never forgotten that single day and night. He lives for one day being able to rend the veil once and for
all, and wreak that kind of destruction across the entire world. To eat his fill of human flesh, to hear his
fill of human screams. But those of us of the other worlds also have a prophesy. “As the dark one’s
power grows, as the world comes closer to destruction, three will rise. And Darkness, Light, and Life
shall banish the dark one forever.”
Spike caught on first, and all she could do was stare at the fox in shock. “You think… the three
of us are destined to fight… that giant dragon thing?!”
No.
Spike relaxed a little. “Oh, good. For a second there, I thought-“
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I do not think you are. I know you are. My family has trained for centuries that one of us could
be your guide, and I am thankful that it has happened in my lifetime.
Spike… just stared. She looked at the other two women. “You’re hearing this too, right? I’m not
losing my mind?”
Lainie shook her head. “How… how are we even supposed to FIGHT that? It took an entire
continent blowing up to lock him away before, and it didn’t kill him!”
Karyn was strangely silent.
Creation, destruction, and life. The powers you hold, in concert, can win any battle. But you
must learn to work together. You are stronger as a unit than any of you will ever be alone.
Spike shook her head. “There’s a chance none of this is true, you know. That we’re all nuts,
locked up in a rubber room somewhere…”
Lainie glared at Spike. “And what if it IS true? I’d rather be ready.”
Spike snorted. “Yeah… You do that, cheerleader. I’m out of here… I’ve got work to get to.”
Without another word, she turned and jogged away, leaving Lainie and Karyn to stare after her. And
yet, she couldn’t escape Dylan’s voice in her head.
Be ready, Natalie. Your true work has not yet begun.
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Chapter 13: Overwhelmed
Fuck her “true work!” Fuck that fox thing, and his stupid prophesies. Forget him, forget the
other two freaks... She could be freaky all on her own and be fine. She had been for years.
Spike shelved books furiously, as only someone with a true love of books could do. She
somehow managed to get her fury across, while never hurting a single book. Customers avoided her,
and she was more than fine with that. She wasn't a hero, she was a young woman, out on her own in
Southern California, estranged from her family and working just to survive. She didn't need these
“powers” or whatever that stupid fox wanted to call them. She didn't need two people she'd probably
wind up having to support in some way – because that was just the way with her. Any time she found
people she thought would be good friends, they would always lose their jobs soon after and she'd wind
up being the “good friend” and supporting them while they searched... and fall behind in her own bills
at the same time. No. She was NOT going to do that again.
She shelved a copy of Bitten by Kelley Armstrong, then pulled it out and looked at it carefully
for a moment. The wolf's eye on the cover caught hers, and for a moment, she felt as if the shapeshifting fox was somehow watching her through it. With a growl, she shelved the book and rested her
forehead against the cool wood of the bookshelf itself. “Goddamnit... Get a grip, Spike.”
She'd only known those others for two days. Why was thinking of them making her stomach
twist in knots? The last time she'd felt this upset had been... when had it been? Oh. Right. When her
mother had somehow gotten her cellphone number and called her. Three months ago. She blinked, then
cursed under her breath. There had been a strange smell in her kitchen not too long after that day. Now,
knowing about her ability, she couldn't help thinking that she might have accidentally killed some small
rodent or something with her fury. She'd had to change her phone number, update it on all of her
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contact information – it had turned into a royal pain in the ass, just because she didn't want her idiot of
a mother to be able to get in touch with her for stupid things like tech support. She wanted tech support
she wouldn't pay for? Then she'd better make good friends with the Geek Squad or something.
Spike lifted her head from where she'd been squatting with it pressed against the bookshelf, her
hands moving reflexively, seeming as if she was reorganizing something on the shelf below where her
head rested, just in case her supervisor peeked in on her while she was working. Almost immediately, a
cold chill ran up her spine.
She stiffened and made a sound in her throat that was mid-way between a whimper and a growl.
She'd gone almost two full days without feeling or seeing him... of course he'd show up now that she
was furious. She'd let her guard down – this was her own fault. Still, the adrenaline tingle in her tongue
and the chills running up and down her back wouldn't stop. “Go away,” she said, trying for a brave
tone. Even in her own mind, it sounded like a little girl hiding under blankets, begging the monsters in
her closet to go away. And while Dylan had assured her that the shadows were in their own dimension
and couldn't hurt her... there was such a thing as being scared to death.
She couldn't sit still any longer. She grabbed the now empty box of books she was shelving and
held it tight against her chest. She left the aisle, feeling herself gaining distance from the Hat Man with
every step. She didn't turn and look back, and she made a point of not trying to guess what he might be
doing or where he might be going. It didn't matter. He was in an alternate dimension. He couldn't hurt
her. What did it matter where he was?
The tingling in her tongue had almost stopped when she reached the stock room. She pulled out
a box cutter and was in the middle of breaking the box she'd been using down so that she could recycle
it when she lifted her head and found herself face to face with something even more horrifying than the
Hat Man.
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A single gold eye with a cat-like slit pupil was glowing in front of her. It wasn't the eye itself
that had her frozen in terror, though... it was the size. That one single eye was the size of a car.... and it
was staring right at her.
“What are we going to do, Dylan?” Karyn was up in her room after having eaten dinner with
her parents. “If Spike doesn't help us...”
Spike will come around... She does not realize how close we are to a true battle. Dylan lounged
on his belly across the end of her bed, his tails gracefully waving behind him.
Karyn swiveled in her chair and looked at him. “How close?”
Dylan met her eyes. Close enough that I feel the need to tell you something quite important. He
waited until it was very clear that she was listening, her body leaning forward in her chair. When it
comes to the fight, your animal forms know what they are doing. Withdraw your intellect and work on
instinct. Then you will know what to do.
She swallowed and closed her eyes, then pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, just
above her nose. “Dylan... I don't fight. You know I don't.”
You will. The assured tone in his voice made her swallow, but she didn't respond again. A
moment later, she felt a warm, furry forehead press it's way between the palm of her other hand and her
knee. There are other things I have not told you, you know... Things about myself.
He was trying to distract her. She couldn't help but smile. “You know me too well.” She stroked
his forehead slowly, running her fingers over the silky smoothness of his ears, down to the soft ruff of
his neck.
I have known you for your entire life, little one. His deep brown eyes gazed up at her and his
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tails swept the carpet behind him. He lifted a dainty paw and rested it beside his chin on her knee.
Karyn sighed, trailing her fingers through the thick fur of his neck. “I know... sometimes, lately,
though... Especially knowing you aren't some figment of my imagination... I've just been wishing...”
Yes?
She drew in a slow breath, then shook her head. “Nevermind,” she said softly, stopping petting
him and gently withdrawing her hand. He lifted his head and blinked at her, only moving his paw when
she turned around and put her back to him again. Tears stung her eyes. How was she supposed to tell
him that she'd been wishing he was human? That she was... and probably had been for a very long
time... in love with him? How do people in romance books find this so easy? And on TV! You'd think
that telling someone you were in love with them was something anyone could do as easily as saying “I
like cheese,” or something equally benign. It wasn't! It was hard, and painful, and scary... What if it
ruined the relationship you already had? What if it ruined a friendship that had been lifelong? What if...
There was a hand on her shoulder.
“Karyn.”
She froze in her seat, drawing in a sharp breath. The hand was warm. The voice was male... and
as familiar as her own. She slowly turned in her chair, feeling the hand move, and she found herself
face to face with a young man. He appeared to be about her age, maybe a year or two older. He wore a
dark gray comfortable sweater with rust-red patches at the elbows, and black jeans. He was handsome,
but not movie-star worthy. He wasn't plain, either... his hair was a cross between red and brown, and
more than a little tousled, looking as if he just couldn't get it to lay right no matter what he did. But it
was his eyes that drew her attention almost instantly. His deep, soulful brown eyes. Eyes she had been
looking at since she was two years old.
“D-Dylan...-” She was cut off by his finger gently resting against her lips as he crouched in
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front of her in her chair. A moment later, he removed his finger and leaned in close.
The kiss took her breath away.
Lainie was laying on her bed, iPod earbuds firmly embedded in her ears. She stared up at her
blank ceiling and tried to lose herself in the music, but her thoughts were too caught up in turmoil to
even begin to fade, no matter how loud the beat pounded in her ears.
Multiple dimensions, insanely powerful beings, a pair of people with powers that were
supposedly designed to work with her own, and yet one of them had abandoned the others, and the
other had seemed so lost after that happened that she'd flown away... And while it was awesome to
know someone who could turn into whatever she wanted to, Lainie couldn't help thinking it would've
been more useful to have someone who had the power of persuasion. She'd been too in shock by
Spike's simply leaving them there, after all they'd heard, all they'd seen, to shout 'hey, you, get your
death-powered ass back over here!' the way she should have.
The power of creation, puh. She should've been able to do something more. She lifted the hand
that wasn't controlling the iPod, and made a pencil appear in her palm, then changed it into a classic
dart. She hurled it at the board on the wall – she'd also created that out of nothing, a few days earlier...
then made the hammer and nails she'd used to hang it. She'd discovered that if she put emphasis into
the act of creating, she could make the items last much longer than the transient things she'd used to
defend herself. There was no doubt that her power was useful, but in a fight? What could she do? Drop
ACME anvils on the bad guy's heads?
The dart missed by a mile and embedded it's sharp point into the carpet instead.
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Lainie sighed. She couldn't figure out what she was supposed to do, how she was supposed to
fix this... She created another dart and tossed it, too. That one at least hit the wall. Lainie sighed again.
There was no other word for it... She felt overwhelmed.
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Chapter 14: Course Correction
Karyn had never been happier that she'd insisted on having the ability to lock her door – or that
she locked it in habit when she was deep in her writing or drawing. Her mother had once told her that
when she met the right guy, she'd... just know, somehow. It was an intuition of sorts, from what she
described. Karyn had scoffed at the time. She didn't meet many people, and when she did, they
invariably had one of two reactions – they either liked her a lot, but had to move away fairly soon
afterward.. or they hated her for no discernible reason and acted like bullies to her. She'd come to the
conclusion a long time ago that there just wasn't a guy out there for her.
In some ways she was shocked to find that it was because her guy had been there all along. In
other ways, however, she felt as if her soul had known it much longer than she had. Especially now, as
they lay tangled together in her bed – their bed, really. It always had been. She couldn't remember a
night that she hadn't been aware of Dylan's presence on her bed – even through the years that she didn't
see him, she'd known he was there.
She sighed softly and snuggled closer to him. She couldn't imagine a more perfect feeling. He
was a little bit taller than her – whether he had chosen that aspect of his human form on purpose or
whether it had simply happened that way, she didn't know. She also didn't care. Her head fit perfectly
on his shoulder. His arm was around her, fingers trailing slowly up and down her bare back as she
hugged him gently with the arm that was draped across his muscled stomach. The blankets were
tangled, leaving their feet bare and their bodies covered from there to just above their waists. Karyn
didn't care – usually blankets overheated her. She enjoyed the cold far more than the heat, and winter
was her favorite season. But right now, the soft warmth of their bodies and the bed was... perfect. She
couldn't imagine a more wonderful sensation.
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“Dylan?” Her voice was a soft whisper... a bedroom voice, if she had to give a classification to
it. Breathy, quiet... nothing like anything she'd ever heard come from her own mouth before.
“Mmm?” His eyes were closed, his hand slowly trailing up and down her back the only
indication that he was awake.
“I love you,” her voice was almost a breath, not quite a whisper, but she knew that he'd heard
her.
The hand on her back slid up until his fingers tangled in her hair. “And I love you, little one... I
always have.” He turned his head and pressed his lips to her forehead. Lips that a short time before had
been many other wonderful places, attached to hands and a body that had almost made her scream with
pleasure. She felt a soft shudder run through her at the memory.
“...I'm so tired...” It was almost a complaint. She didn't want to go to sleep. Didn't want to miss
a moment of this first time with him, with her love.
“Sleep, precious girl.” He whispered against her forehead, “I'm not going anywhere.”
It was as if that was all she needed to hear. Her eyes drifted closed, and in a moment, she was
gone.
Spike trembled in fear. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. It was him... the monstrous
dragon from that vision... Kerboros... She suddenly regained control of her legs and stepped back from
the gigantic eye. The pupil widened, but otherwise didn't move. She took another step, then swallowed.
A stench unlike anything she'd ever smelled seemed to flood the room, as if some giant monster had
burped brimstone and sulfur. Rotten eggs and skunk spray looked like fancy perfume in the face of this
disgusting scent. Spike gagged – and somehow, that was the urge her body needed to get going. Her
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eyes found the glowing red exit sign from the back of the storage room, and the next thing she knew,
she was outside in the alley behind her store. She ran, not heading for the bus stop – just running.
Maybe it wouldn't be able to follow her.
In her panic, her mental vials were forgotten... some kind of warrior she'd be! In the face of a
monster like that... and she'd essentially pissed her pants and run away. And yet she couldn't stop
herself from running. She didn't take into account that she didn't know the streets around the bookstore
that well, except for knowing where the bus stops were, and it wasn't long before she was fairly
hopelessly lost.
She stopped running after crossing a mostly deserted street. The feeling of tingling in her
tongue had faded, and though her heart was pounding in her chest, it was from exertion and not terror.
Panting, she leaned against a streetlamp. Why her? Why were these things showing themselves to HER
and not the other two?! She'd withdrawn from the fight. She wasn't a warrior... and yet it was her the
Hat Man, and now Kerboros himself, haunted.
Your power draws us, young one.
She jumped so high she felt as if she could have cleared the streetlamp if she'd jumped to the
side rather than straight up. “Who's there?! Show yourself!” She spun around, brow furrowed, hands
clenched into fists. “I'm warning you... You don't know what I'm capable of...”
Oh, I assure you... I do. He stepped from a dark alley, but stayed in the shadows. It wasn't the
Hat Man, but it wasn't the eye from the store room, either. Randomly, she suddenly realized she was
still wearing her work uniform. She tugged at the apron and swallowed hard.
The creature, for it wasn't a human, stood on all fours but was as tall as a man. She could barely
make out taloned forepaws, and a head that looked like a cross between a bird and a snake. She got the
impression of a long tail, lashing in the darkness. “What... who are you?!”
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You know me. A smirk spread across the monster's features. The expression made Spike
shudder. Your power knows me... All that is darkness and death resides in your soul, young one. You
do not want to fight me, do you?
Kerboros... In some sort of ambulatory form that was easier for him to maneuver within the
confines of her modern world than his huge dragon self. “No. I don't want to fight at all... Get away
from me.”
The laugh Kerboros let out was as disturbing as his right hand shadow's had been. Mocking and
all-knowing at the same time. He stepped forward, lowering his head to meet her eyes, his own still the
glowing, gold, slit-pupiled eyes that she'd seen in the store room, though these were a comparatively
more manageable size. Me? You are the one drawing me to you... Your aura of darkness, your
thoughts, your violent tendencies... They're delicious. I'm here to offer you a deal.
Spike swallowed and stepped back, her back pressing against the lamppost now. “What... kind
of deal?”
Kerboros smiled – never before had Spike understood the phrase “smile of a snake,” and
suddenly it made far too much literal sense. Join me. Let your power feed my own. In exchange, you
will not have to fight. A low growl rumbled from his throat and he lowered his head, the golden glow
of his eyes taking on a far more reddish tinge. However, if you refuse.... He opened his mouth and
expelled a small snort of red-hot flames before smirking at her again by way of finishing his statement.
Spike swallowed, but her eyes narrowed. This inter-dimensional bully thought he could
intimidate her into helping him? He obviously didn't know her very well... She'd grown up in East L.A.
If there was one thing she didn't do, it was give in to intimidation. “Fuck you.”
Kerboros, for his part, looked shocked. His prey suddenly growing courage was not something
he was used to. He growled, low and long, and flexed his taloned forepaws. Very well, then. Have it
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your way.
Spike's eyes went wide as the monster began to grow, smoke and flames spouting from his
mouth and nose. Around the corner, though, she heard a bus pull up to the bus stop. Before he could
complete whatever horrific transformation he was in the middle of, Spike whirled and ran. The roar
from behind her was deafening. She made it to the bus and onto the bus – somehow, in her running,
she'd gone in a large circle... This bus would take her straight home. Even as she sat in the back of the
bus, though, she was aware of the monsters outside the windows... In every shadow, things moved.
From the darkness, she caught glimpses of red eyes.
“Good job, Spike,” she muttered, her hand in her pocket, clutching Weylin's dog tag. “Real
good job. You pissed off the big bad.” She exited the bus at her stop and ran as fast as she could – but
she didn't go for the apartment. She crossed the street and climbed the fence into the cemetery. It was
dark except for the few lights on the mausoleums, but the shadow beings had never followed her into
the cemetery before...
Of course, she'd never pissed off their leader before.
She dropped down on the other side of the fence and kept running.
Karyn jerked awake suddenly and clutched tightly to Dylan's chest. “Dylan! We have to get to
the cemetery!”
Dylan had been mostly awake, but he jumped when she jerked awake. His brow furrowed and
he looked at her, hugging her against him. Her heart was pounding, her body was shaking against him,
and he'd been so distracted by just sleeping with her that he had almost disconnected from his superior
senses. “What?” A second later, though, he knew.
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Within moments, they were both up, dressed... and out the window in matching owl forms.
Their thoughts might as well have been one and the same – they hoped they weren't going to be too
late.
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Chapter 15: Battle Royale
Lainie had finally managed to clear her mind when something came flying through her bedroom
window. She choked on a scream and scrambled back away from whatever it was, only to find herself
staring at Dylan, standing on the foot of her bed. “Dylan?!” She squeaked the word, immediately
furious with herself for it having come out that way.
I apologize for my abruptness, but we must go. Now. His tails were lashing, his muscles tense.
She didn't know much about wild canines, but he sure looked ready to bite something.
“Why? What's going on?” And yet, even as she asked that, she was getting up and pulling on a
jacket, dropping her iPod on her bed.
Spike is under attack.
“Oh, goddamnit! Let's go.” She opened her window – Dylan had flown through it in his
immaterial way, but she immediately saw the owl sitting in the tree outside her window, shifting from
one foot to the other in an obviously agitated fashion. Even as she climbed out the window and made
her way down the tree – no way she could explain to her mother why she was leaving the house at
nearly midnight after having already been out most of the day, so if she got caught having snuck out...
She'd always subscribed to it being better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
Lainie was thankful that she was in such good shape as she ran through the streets, following
Dylan yet again, as he ran, his tails bobbing behind him, and Karyn soared silently overhead. The only
sound was her feet pounding the pavement, mixed with the click of Dylan's claws ahead of her. She
wanted to ask questions, to get more information... to figure out how in the world they were going to
HELP Spike, let alone why they were bothering to help someone who obviously had no interest in
helping THEM... But she needed her breath to keep up her running speed.
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It wasn't very long before she realized that they were running exactly the same way Dylan had
lead her two days earlier. They were headed for the cemetery. Sure enough, as the Hallowed Oaks
Cemetery sign came into view, Dylan leaped into the air and shifted forms to an owl for the length of
time it took to glide over the fence, then shifted back to kitsune and landed smoothly on the other side.
Karyn landed beside him, her overly large wolf form panting from the exertion of her flight.
She's near the alcove, Dylan shouted as Lainie landed after having successfully climbed the
first fence she'd ever had reason to in her life. She was panting, but the moment the two canines took
off running, she was running again with them.
Lainie's mind was racing – what could she do? What could she create to help? In a few
moments, she'd better have some idea. For the moment, she focused on following the two quadrupeds
through the incredibly dark cemetery.
Karyn's tongue lolled out of her dire wolf's muzzle as she ran. She should've paid more
attention, should have been more vigilant... She should've woken up sooner, or done something... What
if they were too late? Her paws pounded the grass and she leaped, clearing a headstone as if it was a
hurdle at an obedience trial and she was a prize show dog. In a few more strides, the three cleared the
last hill, and Karyn almost stumbled in shock.
Spike was standing with her back to the alcove. A red aura surrounded her and she was hurling
glowing red lights down into a roiling mass of living shadows that seemed to be pouring out of one
spot just below the roof of the large mausoleum where they'd first met. But it was what sat atop the
mausoleum that nearly made both Karyn and Lainie freeze in their tracks.
It looked like a huge black gryphon crossed with a dragon, almost too large to fit atop the
building. It's claws cut into the sides of the building, it's wings were spread and slowly flapping. Karyn
was overwhelmed by a sudden mental image of the Night On Bald Mountain segment of Disney's
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Fantasia... That creature bore such a horrific resemblance to the master of darkness that there was no
doubt in Karyn's mind exactly who they were looking at... However, it was Lainie who spoke first.
“Kerboros...” Lainie had stopped a few steps behind the two canines. Her legs were trembling
with exhaustion and fear. “Oh God...”
He is not in this world! Dylan bumped Karyn's shoulder to get her attention, then pawed
Lainie's leg until she tore her eyes away from the horror atop the mausoleum and looked down at him.
Look at his claws! They pass through the wall, not penetrate it. The rip his creatures are tearing
through is too small for him to pass through. We must close it before they enlarge it enough for him!
Karyn growled. Attack a monster? She didn't know if she could... But she COULD see where
they were coming from. “I'm on it.” Compared to Kerboros himself, those little monsters coming
through the rip were nothing... and the wolf in her mind was furious at the invasion of territory. Without
another word, she launched herself down the hill, snarling, and into the battle.
Dylan tore down the hill behind her, ignoring Kerboros' furious bellow at the sight of him, a
descendent of his most mortal enemy. He didn't have to look to know that Lainie was running down the
hill after them. He had faith in all three girls – but it was too early for a true battle.. They weren't ready
for this yet. He had faith in their minds and their hearts, however, and for this battle, that would have to
be enough.
Lainie did the only thing she could think of. She split off from the canines and ran up the other
hill to Spike, dropping random things atop the shadow creatures as she did. A piano, two oil drums, an
iron bar... Anything that she could think of, she manifested above the mass of them, knocking them
back down the hill and, in a lot of cases, squashing them flat.
Spike's head turned incredulously. “Cheerleader?!” She was bruised and battered, and looked
exhausted, yet still she kept hurling those little glowing things – things that Lainie could now see where
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vials filled with some sort of red and black jelly-looking substance. “What the hell... how did you
know-” She was cut off when a wave of creatures surged up the hill again. Each one she hit with a vial
simply dropped dead where it was, and it seemed like two more took it's place.
Meanwhile, at the base of the hill, Karyn was fighting viciously. Her fangs tore flesh, snapped
bone. The creatures may have looked like they were made out of shadow, but they were as real as she
was. Claws tore at her white pelt, leaving bloody tracks, but in her fury at them for defiling what she'd
felt from the moment Dylan had shown it to her was a sacred place, she didn't feel the wounds. She
snapped, ripped, jerked, and tossed creatures, fighting her way ever closer to the portal they were
coming through. Dylan was somewhere off to her right, ripping his own way through the crowd of
creatures. She'd had no idea until this moment that he had the ability to basically light his tails and
paws on blue fire, but it was certainly coming in handy NOW.
Dylan snarled as he burned through another demon on their way to the portal. Karyn was just as
good of a fighter as he'd known she'd been. She was right by his side, tearing demons apart as if she'd
been born a dire wolf. They fought their way to the portal, the crashes of Lainie's attacks and the red
flashes of Spike's lighting their path until they were there.
Hold them off! I'll close the tear!
Karyn snarled in response and ripped into the demons that had just come through the portal,
even as Dylan reared up on his hind legs and blasted blue fire through the portal in the other direction,
forcing the invading army back. Her entire world was blow and counter-blow. She got her paws into the
fight, rearing up and slamming down hard on a fallen demon, smashing it's skull with her pure weight,
even as another launched at her and she clamped her jaws down on it's arm and jerked hard.
Had Dylan been able to sweat in his kitsune form, he would have been. Blasting fire with his
tails and starting with the top of the rip, he was slowly sealing it, as if cauterizing a wound in flesh. His
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fire was magical, dimensional power... the one thing besides an explosion the level of the one at
Atlantis that could seal these kinds of rifts. He couldn't see the edges but with his mind's eye, even as
he drew them together like closing an invisible curtain and sealed them. He was focused, but he could
not block Kerboros' taunting from his mind.
You think you're winning, you pathetic excuse for a Protector? You aren't even a third of the
warrior your ancestor was! You think you and these stupid humans can beat me? This is your great
prophesy? Ha!
Your distractions mean nothing, Evil One. You have no idea the power these girls wield. We will
never allow you another taste of human flesh. He sealed the last bit of the rift. Never!
Kerboros snarled and spread his wings, leaping off the top of the mausoleum and flapping away
up into the sky. Furious... but defeated, for the moment.
Dylan turned from his task, panting with exertion, and launched back into the battle. The rift
was closed, but they still had to get rid of the demons that had made it through. He did everything he
could not to let Kerboros' taunts get to him, but even as they finished off the remaining demons, he
couldn't help doubting... After all, he'd already almost lost one of the girls, and he'd only been training
them for two days... Would his knowledge be enough? Would their power be enough? For the first time
in his long life... he wasn't sure.
The sun rose the next day to reveal the results of the previous night's battle. Headstones were
cracked and knocked over... with no evidence left of what had done so. The bodies of the demons and
the items the creator had dropped upon them had vanished within hours of their creation, just like
everything else she'd ever made in order to defend herself.
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Spike sat up in the recliner in the living room of her apartment. Lainie was snoring quietly from
where she lay on the floor on a pile of blankets. Karyn was stretched out on the loveseat, with Dylan
laying on the back of it like a cat. Spike was awake, having woken up not too long before. She still felt
exhausted and knew she would go back to sleep soon, but something was bothering her. Near the end of
the battle the night before, she'd noticed that the monsters that were hit by her vials weren't dropping
dead. They were dropping, but not dying. Then Dylan or Karyn would come by and finish the job later.
Spike was shaken to discover, when she closed her eyes and went to the meditative place where she
kept her vials, that her cabinet was empty. She'd used up every single vial of anger and fear that she'd
stored over the years in that one battle.
As she sat in the recliner, she watched a fly that had been buzzing around the room for quite
some time land on the window blinds. She stared at it, then focused, drawing deep within herself,
created a vial, and hurled it at the fly with a flick of her fingers. The fly fell off the blinds and landed on
the windowsill. Spike let out a breath that she hadn't even known she'd been holding. It was fine. She
still had her power...
The fly got up and flew away.
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“We beat him. The rip is sealed, and he flew away!”
That does not mean Kerboros is beaten – not hardly.
Spike was quiet, ignoring Lainie arguing with the Obakemono. She had to work tonight, and
they were no closer to figuring out what they were going to do about the threat to the cemetery than
they'd been several hours ago when they woke up. “Of course he isn't beaten! We didn't even TOUCH
him! We were too busy trying to keep those damned minions from tearing us apart!”
Lainie blinked at them and then grunted and flopped back down into the couch. “If he left,
maybe he gave up,” she muttered, but her voice was quiet and she knew better than to believe it, even
as she said it.
Karyn was sitting up in the recliner, but her head was resting back against the back of the chair
and her eyes were closed. She was sore all over, despite that no wound she'd sustained the previous
night had translated to her human body. Dylan sat perched atop the back of the chair, staying very close
to her. He was more than aware that she was that what she'd done the previous night had been a huge
step forward. She'd fought, she'd fought viciously, and she'd won. He'd never been more proud of his
little one. “We have to find a way... to stop him from coming back. To stop him from trying again.”
The cemetery is a place of power, as I've said. Dylan curled his tail around him and crouched
like a cat, his legs curled under him. It would attract him despite it's also being a place of peace. It will
attract him again.
“So, if we were to set a trap,” Spike said, very quietly. “We should do it there. Probably near the
alcove, since that's where he attacked before.”
“A TRAP?!” Lainie stared at Spike incredulously. “You're suggesting we set a trap for a dragon
half the size of a mountain?”
Spike glared. “Who will, if we don't?! We're the only ones who know what's going on. This isn't
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like Atlantis. The entire populace has no clue that there's a fucking RIP in dimensions, and that some
massive, homicidal dragon is raring to come ripping through and eat the entire damned world!”
“And we can't tell anyone... Even with our powers – what would that prove? They'd say that
Lainie's a magician, that I'm using special effects or something... and Spike couldn't even demonstrate
her power.” Karyn's brow was furrowed and she'd finally opened her eyes.
“For more than one reason,” Spike muttered. She thought she'd spoken quietly enough that the
other two wouldn't hear her, but when Dylan looked right at her, she cursed inwardly. Damn that
Obakemono!
What reason would that be, Spike? The fox's eyes were locked on her face, and the other two
women's attention quickly followed his.
Spike would've growled if she could have. “Fine. I noticed this morning that my power isn't...
working. I tried to kill a fly. It fell, then got up and flew away.”
Dylan tilted his head and swished his tail, sitting up again and blinked slowly. That is...
disturbing. How have you been channeling your power?
Spike sighed. “It's stupid. I visualize little vials and channel all my... fear, and anger into them.
That's what I was chucking at those things last night.”
And you ran out. There was understanding in the fox's unspoken voice. You have been fueling
your power with negative emotions“How am I supposed to fuel it with anything else?! The power is to cause death, for crying out
loud. How much more negative can you GET?!” Spike was leaning forward, glaring at Dylan.
Yes, but you do not have to feed it with negative emotions. Simple focus can do the same thing.
As Lainie and Karyn have discovered.
“Then what am I supposed to throw?” It was such a stupid question! What was she supposed to
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throw at the immaterial beings if not immaterial items? Well, they weren't immaterial, and it still
worked. So maybe the vials weren't, either.
You don't have to throw anything. See your target, aim your hands, and the power will flow. If
visualizing helps, then visualize a beam from your hands. But the power is within you – it is not
wrapped up in your emotions.
Spike sighed. There wasn't anything around for her to test it on, so she didn't bother. “OK. Fine.
I'll try it that way.” She sat back and closed her eyes. “I gotta get some actual sleep. We still don't have
a plan.”
Lainie took a deep breath. “Let's try this, then, if we HAVE to talk about this. How do we kill
him?”
Kerboros is unkillable. Without him, the in between would not exist. Dylan lashed his tail and
growled softly in frustration. He must survive – and yet we must keep him OUT of this dimension. Now
that he has found a place with enough power for him to attempt to punch through, he will try it again.
“What about sending him somewhere else? You said he has to live – not that he has to STAY in
the in between,” Karyn said, leaning forward despite her aching muscles.
Dylan looked thoughtful. That has merit, little one. If we were to push him far enough that there
was another dimensional wall between him and this world, his threat would greatly diminish, as would
his control of the creatures of the in between.
Spike blinked. “Great. So... how do we do that?”
Dylan shook his head. I do not know... I will have to do some research to find out exactly what it
would require to push a creature of his power through a dimensional barrier without tearing it. It
should be possible.
Lainie sighed. “Good. Now that that's decided, we gotta get some rest.”
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“Some of us more than others,” Spike said wryly. “I don't know about you two, but I work
tonight.”
“I was supposed to work today, but... I'm obviously not,” Lainie said with a smirk. “I think
nearly having been ripped apart by creepy shadow things last night was reason to call in.”
Karyn blinked. “That wasn't the reason you actually GAVE, was it?”
Lainie laughed. “Of course not. I told them I had a fever. I have good attendance. I'm fine.”
Spike shook her head. “I ran out last night. I gotta show up today and have a damn good story.
So I can keep my job.” She stood up. “Which means that I have GOT to get some sleep. Stay if you
want. If you leave, click the lock on the door before you close it.” She headed into the bedroom and
shut the door.
“We've gotta get home, too,” Karyn said tiredly. “I feel like I haven't slept in days...”
Just relax, dear one. We will rest soon. Dylan nuzzled into Karyn's hand as she petted him, and
Lainie raised an eyebrow. The way they were with each other, suddenly – it was far different from the
way that he interacted with her, or Spike. Something had changed between him and Karyn in the last
day or so. She hadn't had much contact with them prior to the change, but she had always been a good
judge of people's intentions and relationships to each other.
Lainie watched as Karyn and Dylan got up and left the apartment with a quiet goodbye, and
then she couldn't help smirking a little bit. She figured it out... though for a few hours afterward, she
tried to figure out exactly HOW what she suspected could possibly be true. Everything she thought of,
though, came out to one thing... a very, very odd form of bestiality. Oh well... to each their own.
Karyn winced. She was laying on her stomach on her bed. Dylan was in his human form,
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crouched on his knees and straddling her hips, his strong hands sliding up and down her back slowly.
“Relax, little one,” he whispered, his mouth next to her ear. “The wounds have become muscle
knots and we must work them out. He rubbed circles with his thumbs at the back of her neck, then
slowly slid his hands down her back. He stopped at every knot he found and worked it until it loosened.
By the time he was making his third pass down her spine, she was finally relaxed under him. “Better?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled against her arm. “I'm so tired...”
“You can rest as soon as I am certain you won't hurt yourself by doing so,” he said softly. His
hands slid down her sides, fingers carefully feeling over her ribs. When he'd started, her back had been
completely out, her muscles spasming and twitching even at his gentle touches, making her wince in
pain. He'd started the massage at her ankles, rubbing his way up until her legs were relaxed, and then
he'd started on the knotted brick that was her lower back. Everywhere she had been wounded, it seemed
to have transformed into knotted muscle when she shape-shifted back to her human form after the
battle. Several hours later, being thankful for his Obakemono stamina, he'd finally managed to relax
her.
“Do I get a clean bill of health?” Karyn turned her head and blinked back at Dylan.
He couldn't help smiling. “Yes. You will be fine.” He stretched out beside her and started
petting her back gently.
Karyn was quiet for a long moment, then she whispered, “Do you really think we'll be able to
do it, Dylan? We'll be able to beat Kerboros?”
“I have faith in your power and that of your power sisters,” he said immediately, meeting her
eyes. “It will not be easy, but... in the end, we will prevail.”
Karyn smiled a little bit. “I believe you.” She closed her eyes and snuggled against him. “Gonna
sleep now.”
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Dylan snuggled closer and whispered, even as he pulled the covers up over them. “Sleep well,
little one. I'll be right here.”
Exhausted, and yet content, Karyn slipped into a soft, warm, dreamless sleep.
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Chapter 17: Battleground
Dylan was gone most of the next day. Karyn woke up with him, but he left soon after. He had
research to do in the other worlds – the places only an Obakemono such as himself could go. It left
Karyn to pass the day alone. She tried to return to her drawings, but she could find no inspiration to
draw anything other than large, dangerous, slit-pupiled eyes that seemed to glare at her out of the page.
Scowling back at her paper, she closed her drawing pad and picked up her latest notebook
instead. She hadn't written a word of this story since her aunt died. She was still in the middle of that
same fight scene. She read it over again and her brow furrowed. This wasn't realistic at all... Battles
weren't this clear cut. There was blood flying, bodies falling, screams, roars, growls... She closed her
eyes and shuddered.
She didn't remember much of the battle, to be honest. The feral part of her, the part that had
been more wolf than human, had taken over for most of the battle. But she'd had moments of clarity
that ranged from strange observations – such as the fact that the demon's blood in her mouth tasted the
way burned rubber smelled, to simple sensations, like the fact that her flesh ripping under a demon's
claws was remarkably similar to the sensation of unzipping a zipper, only with the added issue of
ripping nerves that screamed in pain, tearing an inhuman howl from her throat.
The flashes were more than enough for her to piece together just how violent she'd been...
Dylan, on the other hand... she remembered his kitsune flame, the way she'd protected him while he
sealed that rip. She didn't feel bad for taking the lives of demons that would've just as quickly torn her
to pieces, it was more a realization that she was uncomfortable in battle and wanted to avoid it if she
could.... and at the same time, she knew there would be at least one more battle. And perhaps worse
than that, was the realization that there was a part of her that looked forward to it.
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She blinked, as if waking up from a nap, finding a pen in her hand – and four pages written.
She'd rewritten the battle scene into something much more realistic... once again purging her demons
through her artwork and words. She felt a weight she hadn't been aware of leave her shoulders even as
she got up to go lay down. It was a little after sun down – she had no idea how long she'd been writing,
but it was long enough. She'd lost most of the day to her thoughts and her waking nightmares.
She pulled one of her many stuffed animals against her chest and held it tightly. Dylan had been
gone all day, and she was almost shocked at how badly she missed him. In the last few weeks and
months, he'd become the most important person in her life, and she really couldn't imagine her life
without him anymore.
She rolled onto her side and gazed out her open window. “Dylan,” she whispered. “Where are
you?”
Dylan was frustrated. As much research, as much gathered evidence as his species had
regarding Kerboros and the in-between, it was as if no one had ever put specific thought into a way to
bind him forever. His research was taking far longer than he'd anticipated, and with every hour away
from Karyn, he felt his stomach twist painfully. He knew she needed him – she hadn't even begun to
process the emotional level of what she'd done during that battle yet. He knew her – she'd need him to
help her understand that she'd done the right thing, that there had been no other solution. He needed to
get back to her.
In the Obakemono realm, there were no real physical forms. Anything you saw or felt was what
your mind was projecting around you to be seen or felt, or even smelled. He had created a library
around himself – the sensation of flipping through old, leather-bound volumes of ancient lore was more
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comforting to him, with all the time he'd spent in the human world, than the reality of being a formless
spirit mentally leafing through the millennia of collected consciousness of his species. He sat in a
strange mixture between his kitsune and his human form, looking like the fox-demon of old Japanese
myth. Nine tails coming out of a human butt, clad in his usual black jeans. Fox ears perking out of his
tousled hair instead of in the normal human spot for ears. His eyes were his usual brown fox's eyes with
their slit, cat-like pupil, even as he gazed down at the book he held in human hands.
He sighed. What was he bothering with this for? There wasn't going to be any information..
there's never a history of doing anything until it happens, and what he was searching for was something
he couldn't remember having ever heard of being done before. He put that book back and picked up
another one, then growled to himself as he leafed through it. Every second he was stuck here was
another second he was away from Karyn...
“You had been warned against developing feelings for your charge,” a deep, obviously
Obakemono voice said from behind him.
Dylan turned and looked at the grizzled old man behind him, two small white fox ears
protruded from his silvery hair, and nine tails slowly swished behind him. He'd been lying a little bit
when he'd told Karyn that he wasn't exactly a kitsune. In all honesty, the kitsune of Japanese legend
were Obakemono, but they had already been given that name before the kitsune label was slapped
upon them. This elder, having nine tails, was nearing the end of his very, very long life. “And how
would you have me avoid it? I have been with her for her lifetime...”
“And you dare to think that you are the first of your race to have feelings for a charge? It is
dangerous, young one.” The old man shook his head. “They are but mortals, with a lifetime less than a
tenth of our own. Do you desire to live your eternity in grief for one who, to you, was yours for but the
blink of an eye?”
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Dylan stiffened. His memories of Karyn's life so far flashed before his eyes, but he especially
focused on the last few weeks... the last few days... the feel of her in his arms, how it felt to be inside
her, to be together, to be as one... to hear her whisper his name, to hear her say she loved him. He stood
straight and tall, and looked the old man in the eye, laying his ears back and lashing his tails for
emphasis on this one simple word – one word that meant so much. “Yes.” He took in a slow breath,
then nodded. “Yes, sir, it is more than worth it.”
The old man watched him for a moment, then gave a slow nod of his head and turned to leave.
But before he had exited the “hall” that Dylan was in, he turned and looked back at the young
Obakemono. “What you seek to do has never before been attempted, even when our numbers were
strong and our power unlimited. To bind the evil one... It is a daring plan. I sincerely hope that you and
your charges are successful.” He turned again and seemed to glide away... but a book fell from a shelf
as he passed it, and he was gone before Dylan could say a word.
Dylan walked over and picked up the fallen book. He was just about to put it back when
something in the page it was open to caught his eye. He read over it. Then he read it again.
His shout of jubilation echoed through the Obakemono realms.
It was nearly midnight when Karyn blinked awake to the feeling of a warm body against her
back and soft lips kissing their way over the back of her neck. “Mm? Dylan?”
“Wake up, little one,” his familiar voice tickled her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “I
found exactly what we needed... but we must move quickly and gather the others.”
That woke her up. She rolled over until she was under his arm, and she blinked up at him, eyes
wide. “You found something? What is it?”
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Dylan smiled at her and kissed her once, then shifted to his owl form and hopped toward the
window. I'll tell you on the way, love. We must go.
Karyn didn't need any further encouragement. She sat up, shifted to owl, and was out the
window after him a moment later.
Lainie was already climbing out her window when the two owls came swooping up. “Hey, did
Spike call you guys, too?” She was whispering as she focused on getting her backpack out the window
without making too much noise.
No... We were coming to get you, Dylan said, a note of confusion in his voice. I have found“Well, that's just great timing then. Come on,” Lainie said, slinging her backpack over her
shoulder and taking off at a jog. “Spike called me. There's something up in the cemetery.”
“How did Spike get your phone number?” Karyn's mental voice was confused as she swooped
above the creator.
“I knew she was a stubborn bitch and wouldn't ever ask for it... So I wrote it on the notepad by
her phone before I left the other day. We need some way to get in touch with each other... I'm just glad
she wasn't so pissed at me for leaving it that she decided not to USE it.” She glanced up at the darker
colored owl and raised an eyebrow. “So? What'd you find, fox boy?”
Dylan flapped once and swooped lower – high enough above Karyn that the wake from her
wings wouldn't throw off his flight path, but low enough that Lainie could see him without really
having to look up to hard. I discovered exactly what we need in order to make and then seal a rip in
dimensions, to push Kerboros through and out of the in-between for good.
“Great. From what Spike said, we might need it damn fast,” Lainie said between breaths as she
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continued jogging – waiting for buses would take too long, and after having run this distance several
times already, she didn't need them to lead her anymore.
“What did she say?” Karyn flapped a couple of times, soared up on a nighttime breeze, then
swooped back down and ahead of the jogging human, turning her small drop into speed.
“Just that she needed us to get there fast. There were shadow things milling around outside the
cemetery like Elvis fans outside Graceland,” Lainie said. “Her words.” She leaped a fallen trash can as
if it was a hurdle, and kept moving, the two owls keeping up easily despite the lack of nighttime wind.
Dylan drew in a sharp breath, but disguised it with a flap of his wings. If Kerboros was making
his move tonight... they might be too late. We must hurry.
“Yeah, I got that... And you know, some time, you gotta tell me when you two started sleeping
together,” Lainie said even as they rounded the corner onto the street where the front of Spike's
apartment complex was and she sprinted for the gates.
Karyn and Dylan exchanged a glance, but before either of them could respond, Dylan very
nearly flew into a lamp post, only avoiding it by simply phasing through it at the last second, as the
cemetery came into view.
All along the fence, shadows undulated and moved as if the trees were dancing – and yet, with
the lack of night wind, the trees were still. The shadows themselves were moving.
Even as Lainie opened the gate to the apartment complex with the code Spike had given her
over the phone and the two owls swooped over the fence, Dylan couldn't help worrying... Even with all
their power, and all his knowledge... They still very well might be too late. Tonight, the place of peace
and power would become a bloodbath... the cemetery would be a battleground.
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Chapter 18: Setting The Stage
Spike was pacing back and forth in front of her apartment when Lainie came jogging up with
two birds soaring over her shoulder. “Did you see those little shits? All over the cemetery as if they
own it.” Spike's hands were flexing into fists, but for the first time since they'd met her, she didn't just
look angry – she looked scared. She didn't know for sure that she'd be able to get her ability to work,
and if she could, she didn't know that she wouldn't “run out of juice” again. This was the worst possible
time for a battle... Of course, that's precisely when it had to happen.
Karyn swiveled her head, then hopped down from the low tree branch she'd landed on,
transforming back to her human form on the way and landing. Her clothes looked rumpled – slept in.
She'd gone straight from her work table to her bed, after all. She'd never had to worry about that before.
“It's like no one even wants to come outside tonight,” she said quietly. And it was true – all the
apartments around them, even those that Spike knew contained people who were normally night
people, were dark. And the few shadows she saw moving behind blinds, well... she didn't trust that they
were actual human shadows.
Yes. Most humans are not completely oblivious to the supernatural world around them as they
would have you believe. Though it is not conscious, I imagine that most know better than to come out
tonight, Dylan said. He was now in his full kitsune form, standing on the ground before them and
looking up at each girl in turn.
“Fox boy here says he figured out how to make Kerboros pop dimensions,” Lainie said – she
wasn't exactly quoting him, but nor was she wrong, so he didn't say anything about it.
Dylan spoke the moment all three women looked at him. It will take a large amount of power to
create the rip between dimensions that we need... And in order to do it, I will need to venture into the
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in-between itself so that I can be sure the rip will go beyond it. I can do it, but I will need all three of
you to keep Kerboros' minions off of me while I do so.
“Dylan,” Karyn said very quietly. “If you go into the in-between... Kerboros HIMSELF will
attack you.”
I will simply have to avoid his detection. By the time he knows I am there, I hope it will be too
late.
“Unfortunately,” Spike muttered, “We don't exactly have a better plan. This is it, kids. We need
to get to the cemetery without those things getting us-”
More than that, Dylan said seriously. The three of you need to get into the alcove and charge
your abilities. Remember, Lainie possesses a reserve of power that is designed for the two of you to
draw upon. You will need this charge tonight... The battle the other night was merely a skirmish
compared to what tonight will be if Kerboros realizes our intentions.
The girls looked at each other. Finally, Spike held out her fist, Lainie touched it with hers, and
finally, Karyn put hers in as well before Dylan laid his paw atop all of them.
I am sorry you have not had more complete training. I am sorry that it took so long for me to
find you all and get all of us together. But tonight, you will have to work as a unit... The fate of three
worlds depends on all of us. He withdrew his paw and stood, taking a few steps away from them. Let's
go.
Without a word, the three girls turned and followed the fox out of the apartment complex.
They left through the back of the apartment complex and took the long path around to the other
side of the cemetery, trying to avoid the roiling mass of shadows that they'd all seen at the back gates.
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The side of the cemetery faced a main street. This was good, because it was very well lit by the
streetlamps. However, it was bad for the same reason. Karyn and Dylan were easily able to get over the
fence in animal forms, but Lainie and Spike had to wait and watch to be sure no cars were coming
before they dared the climb. Several harrowing minutes later, after Lainie froze atop the fence, thinking
she heard a siren coming that way, only to have it turn on the street just before the stretch where they
were, they were all inside the cemetery's walls.
“Oh, great,” Spike muttered. It didn't take long for them to see exactly what had her annoyed.
None of them had been in this part of the cemetery before. Orienting themselves via knowing that the
west wall was to their back could only do so much for helping them find the alcove. “We're in, but
we're lost.”
“Not for long.” A flash of light, and Karyn was in her owl form again. She launched herself into
the air. “Stay right here. I'll be back.” And with a few powerful flaps, she was gone.
Lainie watched the owl go, then turned her attention to Dylan. She had to do something to
distract herself. The thought that they, three twenty-something girls, and a semi-invisible spirit animal,
were about to go up against an inter-dimensional dragon that had essentially caused the destruction of
Atlantis was freaking her out more than a little. Distract, distract, distract. She'd learned that lesson
from her Nana well. “So, how long has it been?”
Spike raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet. For the same reason Lainie wanted a distraction,
Spike wanted to avoid them. She needed to keep her focus... to keep filling those vials. No matter what
Dylan had said, she knew what had WORKED, and she needed to stick with it. Maybe the power boost
she'd get from Lainie would be enough to keep it going. However, when Dylan spoke next, it drew her
attention unbidden.
We have been sleeping together for several days now. I admit, however, it feels as though we
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have been “together” for much longer. Dylan was sitting calmly, his tails curled around him. Or, at
least, he appeared calm.
Spike stared at the fox. “Whoa, wait... You're WHAT with Karyn?! How...” She raised an
eyebrow. “How is that even POSSIBLE?”
Dylan simply looked at her with the unreadable gaze of a fox. Obakemono means “thing that
changes.” He said, and Spike could've sworn there was a smirk on the fox's muzzle. But, before she
could snap a smart ass remark back at him, Karyn came swooping down.
“The alcove is straight that way,” she said, even as light enveloped her and she shifted back to
human form. “Not far at all.”
“Great!” Lainie said. “Then let's-”
“It isn't the distance, it's the obstacles,” Karyn continued. “He's in between here and there, on
the mausoleum again.”
“'He'?” Spike said with a raised eyebrow. But when Karyn met her eyes, and she saw the fear
hiding there, Spike felt a chill run down her own spine before Karyn even said what she knew she
would say next.
“Kerboros.”
They stared at each other for a moment before Lainie summed up what they were all thinking
very nicely.
“Shit.”
Dylan lead the way around the base of a hill – the last hill between them and hill that housed the
alcove at it's summit. When he stopped, all three young women behind him stopped as well. Karyn,
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shift.
“Wolf?”
Battle form. Whatever you feel the most comfortable with. We may have to clear a path.
Karyn pulled Spike and Lainie close to her, to block the flash of light from her shift, and a
moment later, she stood under the light of the full moon, in the form of her white and silver dire wolf.
She nosed her way between the other two girls and moved up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Dylan,
peering around the bottom of the hill. Between them and the hill that housed the alcove, there was a
writhing mass of indistinguishable shadows. “My God...”
“Damn, that's a lot of them,” Spike muttered.
They are not in our dimension yet, Dylan said quietly, his tails brushing the girls' legs. But this
group is... much larger than the platoon the other night. This... this is not an army. He felt his breath
catch in his throat and his stomach twist. This... is an invasion force. They're coming through... Tonight.
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Chapter 19: Element Of Surprise
“They're WHAT?!”
Karyn turned and snarled at Lainie. Her voice had gone high-pitched with terror, and it was all
she could do to keep herself from running away. “Shut up! They'll hear you!”
Spike and Dylan stared at the shadows for a moment – they didn't appear to have heard at all.
Dylan breathed a relieved sigh, then turned and glared at Lainie. Precisely what I said. They're coming
through. Tonight. Kerboros will have his army rip the hole wide enough that he will be able to escape
the bindings of the in-between, and devour humanity to his dark heart's content. We must stop that from
happening.
“Duh,” Spike muttered. “The question is HOW are we going to stop that from happening? I
don't know about you guys, but... I don't know if we can fight off that many.”
We might not have to. If we can get Kerboros through the dimensional rip and out of the inbetween, away from our world... It is very possible that he will lose the control he has cultivated over
the shadow beings. He swished his tails and gazed out at the shadows. But first we must get past them...
The alcove is key. We cannot let them enter it.
“Why aren't they already in it?” Spike asked, finally voicing a question that had been bothering
her since that first battle. “I thought they'd stayed out that other night because I was defending it, but...”
They cannot enter it without Kerboros' power directly feeding theirs, in this world. And they
would not dare enter it in their own. It is a place of power – of power designed for good. Without
Kerboros' aid, they would not survive within it.
Lainie blinked. “Wait... So... let's just run. We can get into the alcove and they can't. Why are
we waiting?”
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“Because they don't know we're here,” Karyn said with a swish of her tail and a growl. “The
moment they see us, we lose the element of surprise... Which is one of our big weapons right now.” Just
because she didn't like being a warrior didn't mean that she couldn't THINK like one.
Dylan nodded. Precisely. We must maintain stealth as long as possible.
“Fine,” Spike muttered, fingering the dog tag on her keychain. Then she blinked. “I think... I
know another way.” She just saw a shadow – but it didn't look like one of the shadow beings. Instead, it
looked like a dog. Like the shadow she'd seen the day she got her apartment. “This way.” She turned,
without waiting for the others, and followed the dog-shaped shadow. It didn't instill in her the same
kind of dread the other shadows did. In fact, she didn't feel afraid of it at all. It was friendly... somehow.
She knew it. She lead them in a long, winding path around the base of two hills, twisting between
headstone after headstone. She kept catching glimpses of the dog-like shadow as they walked, and
three times it seemed to indicate a turn just before they would've run into another bunch of shadow
beings.
Dylan followed, just behind Lainie, Karyn beside him as they walked. He kept his eyes out for
any rogue shadow creatures that might sound an alarm, but they always seemed to just avoid them.
Less than half an hour later, after some creative maneuvering, they wound up atop the hill, slipping
between the branches of a weeping willow to enter the alcove. For just a moment, Dylan thought he
saw something, but before he could get a good look at it, it vanished from view. Perhaps even HIS
imagination was being overactive tonight. Alright. Focus your powers together. I will act as a catalyst
until you are ready to stand on your own.
“'By your powers combined...'”, Spike mumbled, almost absently. It did feel surreal, like some
old Saturday morning kid's show. But it wasn't, and she knew it. This was real, and they would be
really dead if it didn't work. She stood at the center of the alcove, closed her eyes, and focused on her
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power. She remembered when she first tapped into it, and the sight of all the dead birds on her walk out
of the cemetery... She remembered her feeling of outrage that the bum had dared to attack her that
night, after she'd already been scared out of her wits by the Hat Man... She remembered the power
she'd felt surge through her arm when she'd killed the squirrel, and the way it had felt when she'd begun
single-handedly defending the alcove in the previous battle.
Lainie's eyes were closed as well, her hands dropped to her side, backpack on the ground up
against Marshall Winters' headstone. She remembered how she'd felt when she'd summoned the knife
when she was ten, and the mallet at homecoming... She remembered how powerful she'd felt when
she'd conjured the brick wall to stop her father from attacking her, and how amazed she'd been that
she'd been able, almost by doing the thing that she'd thought was ludicrous the day before (dropping
anvils on bad guys), to help Spike defend the alcove against the army of shadow beasts. She could feel
her heart rate speeding up, and she let it. That was power. She could feel her power.
Karyn, back in human form, was breathing deeply with her eyes closed. She focused, carefully.
She remembered that first remarkable feeling of flying when she'd turned into a pigeon. She
remembered how it felt when she'd first consciously made a transformation. She remembered the
exhilaration of flying with Dylan, and the power she'd felt when she'd first discovered her dire wolf
form. She remembered the feeling of fighting, of being lost, with everything going on around her, and
yet her part of the battle seeming to move in slow motion. The feel of her fangs as they sank into and
tore the flesh of the shadow creatures, the sensation of her own skin ripping in response to their wicked
claws.
Dylan watched from where he sat between the two headstones, and he couldn't help the panting
smile that broke across his fox face as he saw all three girls' power auras begin to show. A blue glow
around Lainie, a red glow around Spike, and a green glow around Karyn. Creation, Destruction, and
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Nature, bound as one. Now, he said quietly, though he knew all three could hear him. Take each other's
hands.
When they did, their individual glows became a tricolored rainbow that swirled around all three.
Just a few moments more, and they would be fully charged. Dylan was so focused on this, the
culmination of everything he had worked toward and believed in his entire life, so proud of his Karyn,
that he didn't hear it before it was too late.
There was what felt exactly like an earthquake, and one of the huge oaks that protected the
alcove shook so violently that it seemed that it's roots would tear right out of the ground. When they
did, it threw all four of them to the ground, breaking the contact between the girls and making even
Dylan stare up in terror.
The once proud oak rose into the air, roots torn free of the ground, a giant reptilian claw
clutching around it's trunk the way any normal-sized person would pick up a glass of water.
Kerboros laughed, a low, demonic sound, and as the four watched, he proceeded to tear the oak
in half and throw it deep into the cemetery. He lowered his giant dragon face and glared at them with
those horrible gold eyes. “Surprise.”
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Chapter 20: Sacrifice
To his credit, Dylan was only frozen for a moment before shouting, RUN!
The girls scrambled to their feet as a flood of shadow creatures came pouring up the sides of the
hill toward them. Karyn ducked a claw swipe, and in a flash of light, she was a wolf again. She caught
that shadow creature's arm in her jaws and whipped it back against it's friends, knocking some of them
rolling and creating a small alley through which they could run. “Run! That way! Come on!”
She and Dylan ran down the hill, the opposite way from where Kerboros stood, his upper body
already through the now huge rip, his minions pouring out of the dimensional tear around his great
scaly belly. Snapping and snarling, they cleared the way for Lainie and Spike, who ran right behind the
two canines. “Get into the rip, Dylan! We can still win this,” Karyn shouted at her once best friend,
now boyfriend, even as she shook a creature in her bone-crushing jaws before tossing it back from
whence it came.
I won't leave you! He blasted fire, clearing another path, ignoring Kerboros' taunts behind him.
“You'll be back. I KNOW it. Now go!” She ripped another demon's guts out and left it bleeding
on the ground before launching herself back toward the portal.
Dylan didn't have a choice. He shouted to Lainie and Spike, Split up! Try to distract them! And
then he dove after Karyn. He didn't dare use his fire – Kerboros' attention was focused on the creator
and the destroyer... NOT on him, or on Karyn, as Lainie and Spike turned and began dropping large
items upon the shadow creatures and hurling... Oh no. Spike was still hurling those vials of hers...
There was no time for him to correct her. He fought through the roiling masses of creatures, following
Karyn. There was a sick feeling in his stomach every time he lost sight of her flashing white fur for
even a second, but it would always surface again... bloodier, but still there. Still fighting. As they
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reached the rip, having approached it from a side where Kerboros, who was still struggling to free
himself from the rip, couldn't see them easily, Dylan passed Karyn. In a spot of relative quiet, their
bodies shielded from Kerboros' eyes by his own bulky body, the two paused, panting.
Suddenly, in a flash of light, Karyn shifted back to human. And, as if sensing her intent, Dylan
did as well. They stood there, face to face, for a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity, then, as
if by mutual decision, suddenly they embraced and kissed.
The world fell away. The vicious battle being fought only a few hundred yards from them was
forgotten. They were wrapped in nothing but each other, and this moment. When the kiss broke, they
rested their foreheads against each other, clinging to each other as if they might never let go.
“I love you,” Karyn whispered, tears in her eyes. With Kerboros halfway out of the rip, the plan
itself was a long shot, and they both knew it... And what's worse, it was a long shot that they had no
choice but to use – no choice but to risk all of their lives, and do everything they could to stop this... Or
tomorrow, the entire world would wake up to the apocalypse.
“I love you, Karyn,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers again. But their time was up, and they
knew it. He wouldn't promise that he'd be back – he couldn't. And he'd never make a promise to Karyn
that he didn't know he could keep. So, instead, he kissed her again, then turned and shifted to his
smallest fox form in the same motion with which he leaped through the gap between Kerboros' belly
and back leg.
Karyn stared after him for a moment, then lost him in the mass of shadows beyond the veil.
With a feeling as if her own heart was being ripped out, she turned and faced the mob of beings that
came through the portal ahead of Kerboros, who now blocked it. With a howl that was as much fury as
grief, she charged back into the fight.
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Lainie and Spike had been separated by the pure volume of creatures between them. Their
bodies sported their power auras again, but neither seemed to notice their own, and only used the
other's to keep track of where they were.
Spike was breathing hard, sweating and starting to tremble a little bit as she hurled her vials at
the demons. She had to keep going – had to. The moment she stopped, she would be overwhelmed. But
her internal cabinet was once again running out of ammunition, and she didn't have the time to restock
it. She felt a surge of panic when one of the creatures she'd hit with a vial got back up, then felt like
cheering when, out of nowhere, a flash of white fur tore through the group she was fighting with. There
was a spray of blood, and she knew the one she'd failed to kill had died under Karyn's fangs.
As the shadow creatures turned their attention to the wolf in their midst, Spike sank back
against a tombstone and trembled. She was out of ammo, she couldn't fight... And though she could feel
herself glowing with power, she didn't know how to USE it... What had Dylan said? She hated to admit
that she'd been wrong, but this wasn't just her life on the line. This was the entire world. Now what had
he said?
'See your target,' Spike remembered the fox's voice. 'Aim your hands, and the power will flow...
Visualize a beam...' She swallowed... It was worth a shot.
She stood up and faced the swarm of demons again, and almost choked... They had Karyn down
and were ripping into her. Oh god, if her indecision had gotten Karyn killed... Before she could think of
anything else, she raised her hands, aimed them palm out at the demons surrounding her, and focused
JUST on the demons. It wouldn't hit Karyn... She knew it wouldn't. “DIE!!”
Karyn's vision was graying. She tried to bite, but couldn't move her head. She couldn't get her
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legs under her. It almost felt like sleep paralysis, except that in her case, there were actual demons
holding her down. She was vaguely aware of one reaching to slice her throat.. when suddenly the
weight just fell off of her.
The wolf felt a surge of energy, and pushed herself up, shaking the dead bodies off of her, and
stared up at the top of a nearby hill in shock. Spike was standing up there – but instead of hurling vials,
she was projecting a red beam of death down into the masses of shadow creatures... and they all fell
before her power. What was even more amazing was that Karyn's wounds were healed. She was at one
hundred percent, ready to fight again as if she hadn't fought at ALL yet. She let out a howl, and charged
across to where Lainie was pinned in – it was all she could do until Dylan returned.
Lainie was dropping everything she could think of on the demons, but still more came. Pianos,
safes, anvils, even an elevator or two fell from the sky, shattering headstones and demons alike. She
barely stopped herself from dropping another elevator on top of a mass of demons when she caught
sight of white fur flashing in the moonlight – Karyn. She turned her attention to another area. Maybe
they would win this, somehow... But even if they beat all of his minions, they'd be done for the moment
Kerboros managed to get the rest of his massive body through the rip. She could hear his roars of
frustration as he clawed at the ground, uprooting trees and caskets alike, every slam of his massive feet
causing minor earthquakes to spread through the cemetery. Whatever Dylan was doing, he'd better
hurry.
Dylan had flown over the other half of Kerboros' army. They were so focused on shoving their
master through the rip into the other dimension that they didn't notice the keen-eyed owl that soared
from under one of his hind legs and over all of their heads. His every sense was attuned to finding a
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weak point, a spot where he could create a rip into a dimension further removed from the in-between –
far too aware that every second he spent in here was a second going by out there where his girls had to
fight alone.
This hadn't been how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to have the element of
surprise – not Kerboros. They were supposed to have enough time for the girls to charge completely
before the battle... but he'd stalled too long. Taken too long in his research, taken too long in figuring
out how to get them to the alcove... If any of them died, it would be on his head for eternity.
He began creating the rip, his body shaking with the effort it took. Working his magics within
this in-between realm was ten times as hard as it was in the normal world, and much harder than it was
in the realm of the Obakemonos. He got frustrated and began ripping harder and harder... suddenly, he
was aware of a presence beside him. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel it – it was as if he was
wrapped in a blanket of support. Suddenly it became easier to cast. Immediately, he understood what
had to be going on. His fellow Obakemono were sending him support along the bond that ties all of his
species together. The magical version of “many hands make light work,” Dylan was feeling the support
of his entire species as he worked to create the rip. The rip tore straight up, as if it was a zipper, making
a hole even larger than the one that Kerboros and his minions had created. Finally, it was big enough,
and Dylan turned to fly back over the creatures and out to where he could reach Karyn and the others
with his voice, when he noticed that Kerboros had gotten a third massive leg through the rip he had
made. He was almost free.
No... Dylan launched himself into the air. He didn't know how, but he had to stop the monster...
even if it cost his own life. With the power of his entire species behind him, he soared at the top of the
rip above Kerboros' back. There was no chance the girls could hear him, but he still needed to try.
He is almost free! We must get him back! The rip is prepared, and we can defeat him once and
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for all! We must get him back into the in-between and through the rip! He kept repeating, over and over.
There was no answer.
Karyn, Lainie, and Spike had made something of a last stand across from the old mausoleum.
Dead creatures and fallen objects littered the cemetery which looked as if it had been through an
earthquake even bigger than the Northridge quake of 1995. The three were within sight of each other,
all fighting furiously. But even when Spike turned her death beam on Kerboros, it didn't do anything.
Lainie dropped ever larger and heavier items on him, and he only laughed. Karyn focused on keeping
the surviving minions away from them while they tried desperately to fight the giant dragon himself.
“Nothing's working!” Lainie shouted, the desperation sending her voice up an octave or two.
“Oh god, we're all going to die!”
“Shut up, cheerleader,” Spike muttered. “We'll figure something out... We have to.” She hadn't
come this far, mastered this power, just to die right when she had it under control! She turned at a
warning shout from Karyn, but it wasn't fast enough – something hit her over the back of the head and
sent her tumbling the rest of the way down the hill, even as Lainie shouted her name.
Spike opened her eyes and growled, then rolled out of the way quickly before the club that
seemed to be made out of pure darkness slammed to the ground and took a chunk out of the tombstone
behind her. She sprang to her feet in a practiced move, and found herself facing off with none other
than her own personal demon – the Hat Man.
His eyes glowed a smoldering red, and he brandished the club furiously, viciously. His fanged
mouth bared his teeth in the grin of a demon skull as he lunged at her again. She shot her beam at him
and it hit... and nothing happened. The Hat Man laughed. His voice seemed to come from everywhere
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and nowhere at once – and somehow Spike knew it was him, even though she'd never heard him speak
before. “You cannot kill that which is already dead, little girl.” His vicious grin spread across his
featureless face again. “You, on the other hand...” He lunged, brandishing the club.
Karyn fought her way back up to where Lainie stood – another wave of demons had come
through the rip around Kerboros' newly freed hind leg, and the evil laughter of the giant dragon echoed
through the cemetery, seemingly inside their very heads. “I have to help Spike!” She'd seen Spike
facing off with the Hat Man at the base of the hill. But as the demons swarmed toward her, she knew
she'd have to help Lainie first. But, as she turned to leap into battle again, she heard something...
Dylan's voice?
...We must... back through... in-between.... rip... somehow!
It WAS Dylan's voice, and he needed her help. Karyn turned, stared at Lainie, then quickly ran
up to her and leaned against her leg. She knew, in a sudden moment of clarity, exactly what she had to
do. They'd been going about this the wrong way – they needed to fight fire with fire... and she was the
only one with the firepower they needed.
“What are you doing?” Lainie muttered incredulously – she hadn't heard Dylan. She was too
focused on casting her own power at the creatures swarming their hill.
“Getting a power boost! We can win this!” Before Lainie could ask what she meant, the white
dire wolf was enveloped in a bright green glow – even her eyes were glowing bright green. She
launched herself down the hill, straight toward Kerboros.
“Karyn, WAIT! You'll be-” But before Lainie could finish her sentence, her eyes went wide as
she watched what happened to the white wolf.
As Karyn ran, she became enveloped in a bright, blinding green light. It started as her aura, then
seemed to completely wrap her entire body. And then, it began to grow. By the time she reached the
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bottom of the hill, she was a massive green ball, nearly the size of Kerboros himself, hurtling toward
the dragon, throwing his minions to the sides as she passed.
“What is this?” Kerboros asked with a laugh. “Some new toy the little girls are-” He was cut
off by a thunderous roar, and for a moment, he even stopped his struggling to free himself of the rip.
Standing before him on four redwood tree-like legs, each ending in a five toed, splay clawed
foot, swishing a tail so long that it nearly hit Lainie with every furious lash, with two wings on it's back
spread wider than Kerboros' own, and with the head of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, only many times it's size
atop a long, graceful neck, covered with armored scales... stood Karyn, her massive eyes still glowing
green, brightly.
Dylan had once told her that her power was drawn from nature – that she could become any
creature she could visualize and BELIEVE she could become. Why it had never occurred to her before
that it didn't mean she was limited to creatures that actually exist, she didn't know... And yet, perhaps it
did. After all, standing before her was a dragon that would end the world. She had become the dragon
that would save it. With another roar, she launched herself at Kerboros. She knew that pushing him
back through the portal would mean that she would go as well... And if that was the price that had to be
paid to save the world – she would pay it.
Kerboros barely had time to register what had hit him before he was shoved violently back
through the rip he'd been fighting for an hour to release himself from. Claws dug at scales, drawing
blood. Fangs snapped, flames blast into the thick air of the in-between as the titans grappled with each
other.
Kerboros' minions seemed... frozen. As if they didn't know what to do. Dylan was frozen as
well, where he clung to the top of the rip above where Kerboros had been sticking through a moment
before. It took him a long moment to register exactly what had happened. But the moment he saw the
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green glowing eyes on the second dragon, he knew. Karyn...
Now was not the time for emotion, though... She was fighting for her life, and he wouldn't
belittle her sacrifice by not doing everything he could to make sure she wouldn't have to MAKE it. He
flew off the rip between dimensions and soared over the heads of the stupefied minions – Kerboros
didn't have enough focus to control the minions and fight a dragon equal to him in size at the same
time. The minions were useless, mindless creatures molded from shadow. Dylan had a free shot to the
other rip... He could only hope that there would be some way to keep Karyn's selflessness from turning
into an irreversible sacrifice.
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Chapter 21: Clash Of Titans
Roars echoed through the cave-like space of the in-between. Karyn wasn't thinking. She gave
herself over to the vicious, primal creature that she'd created by patching pieces of different dinosaurs
together, combined with her knowledge of Kerboros' own dragon form from observation. The T-Rex in
her head snapped at her opponent's throat, fangs breaking scales but not skin. Her foreclaws grappled
with his, and her back feet tried to kick like a raptor's. Scales were torn from each dragon's tender flesh,
and all of Kerboros' taunts were lost in his sudden struggle to survive.
Never had there been another creature his size, matching him in ferocity. He couldn't get far
enough back to use his flame breath as a weapon – not without burning himself in the process. But that
meant his opponent – was this really the meek little shape-shifter?! – couldn't use whatever weapon
she'd undoubtedly factored into her own form as well. So they fought, tooth and claw. He was the first
to draw actual blood, but she did soon after. The destroyer's death ray had glanced off his scales.
Anything the creator had thrown at him had simply bounced off his elegant, natural armor. But this? To
battle a creature that was his match in size and ferocity? Nothing in his long history had prepared him
for such a fight.
Dylan was working quickly. He soared over the faceless shadow creatures, frozen by their
master's distraction, and clung to the rip he and the entire might of his species had created. He pulled it
wide and called to the woman he loved – a woman in the body of a massive dragon, currently fighting
for her life against the largest threat humanity had ever known. Kerboros, the beast of the pit. If he had
anything to say about it, humanity would never have to worry about him again after tonight. Karyn!
Work him this way!
Something within the feral beast that she'd become heard and responded to Dylan's voice, and
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she flapped her wings once, hard, kicking all four feet into Kerboros' stomach, making the great dragon
give a great expulsion of air as he flew backwards. Before he could scramble to his feet again, she was
back on him. Her jaws clamped on his neck, tearing his scales and choking him. He clawed at her,
snarling, and snorted a puff of flame, but he couldn't get his mouth open enough to do anything. She
planted her legs and whirled to the side, trying to throw him as she had so many of his minions when
she was in wolf form. She didn't take into account that he'd been watching her both times she'd fought.
Kerboros planted his feet and spun with Karyn's toss. When she released his neck, he flared his
wings, reared up, and slammed his foreclaws down onto her side, knocking her rolling. He drew in a
deep breath and exhaled a blast of flame that made Karyn roar in pain as her exposed flesh was burned
and her wounds were abruptly cauterized. She rolled out of the way before he could do it again, and his
next blast was met by blazing green fire from her own mouth. The two dragons circled each other,
facing off. Then, as if on some agreed-upon signal, they launched into each other again, fangs and
claws flashing in the brimstone light of the in-between. And still, they moved closer to the rip where
the Obakemono waited.
Spike was locked in battle with the Hat Man when Karyn suddenly went dragon and charged
Kerboros. The roar distracted her for an instant – it didn't sound like Kerboros' roar, and all she could
think was “oh, great, another dragon?!” before she registered that it was attacking Kerboros and made
the connection. However, it was the distraction that the Hat Man needed. He swung his club and caught
her hard in the shoulder, only missing her head because she turned to see where the sound had come
from. It knocked her off her feet with a sickening crunch, and she cried out as she went flying. She
came to rest, dazed, against a tombstone. She'd lost her knife somewhere during the flight, and now
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she'd lost the use of her left arm as well. If she had to guess, she'd say that either her upper arm was
broken, or her shoulder was dislocated. Of course, exactly what was wrong with her wouldn't matter in
a moment – the Hat Man approached, club raised, vicious fangs exposed in a sickening grin.
Spike's hand slipped into her pocket and fingered Weylin's dog tag. “I'm sorry, boy,” she
mumbled. “Couldn't save you... can't save the world... Guess I really am useless...”
The Hat Man's disgusting mouth opened wide in that same mocking laughter that he had let out
that night in the alley. He stood right in front of her and raised his club to deliver the final blow... then,
suddenly, he staggered. He stepped back and seemed to shake himself. “Master? What...?”
Spike saw him out of the corner of her eye first. A canine shape, low to the ground. For a
moment, she thought it was Karyn, somehow... But it wasn't Karyn. It wasn't Dylan. And as the
shadowy canine leaped for the Hat Man's head while he was distracted, Spike's eyes went wide in
recognition. “WEYLIN?!”
The canine ghost, a creature of the in-between in it's own right, grabbed the weakened Hat
Man's hat in his teeth and pulled the creature to the ground, snarling. Spike could see Weylin now,
straight on – and she could see through him as well. He still seemed to wear his collar and dog tag,
despite that she knew she was wearing and carrying the true articles, and he wrestled with the Hat Man.
Spike was in shock, but her brain was working overtime, even as Lainie continued dropping massive
objects on the rest of the now frozen minions. They drew their power from Kerboros – who was now
distracted by fighting Karyn. He didn't have power left to lend them... But Dylan had said the Hat Man
was different. Like a general... And he'd said he was already dead... A corrupt ghost, taken over by
Kerboros' power.. And therefore with a will of it's own to do his bidding. “Sic 'em, Weylin!”
She struggled to her feet with her one good arm, watching as the ghost of her old dog, no longer
old in death, but a young adult, in his prime once more, ripped the Hat Man's hat from his head... and
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with it, some of the darkness that covered the figure. Spike furrowed her brow as she saw a flash of...
white hair?
The Hat Man was shouting, but he'd lost his club when he fell. The dog was tearing at him,
ripping... and suddenly, so was he. Tearing at his own face, ripping the very darkness that cloaked his
form from himself. “Help me!”, he cried. And somehow, Spike knew he wasn't shouting for help
getting the dog off him, but the darkness. She moved quickly, using her one good arm to tear at the
darkness that clung to the spirit's immaterial flesh. She didn't question her being able to touch it – her
power was death... the darkest of all. Of course she could grip the very shadows themselves and pull
them to her will if she wanted.
When the last shred of black had been torn from the ghost, she stepped back, Weylin at her side,
and stared. She recognized the old man before her, somehow... Where had she seen him before?
“The King and his surviving cabinet quickly realized that this massacre was their own doing;
their own quest for immortality had doomed the very people they hoped to save....” Dylan's voice
echoed through her mind... The King. The Atlantean king! He had dreamed of immortality, had
sacrificed his life to save his world after his own dream had destroyed it, and as if in punishment, his
spirit had been given the one thing it had desired. He had obtained immortality – in the slavery of the
being that he had released and that had ultimately destroyed his world.
Spike didn't know what to do. The King stood shakily to his feet, and Spike gave him a
respectful bow, standing when the King waved it off. “There is not much time. We must seal the hole!”
Somehow, even though she could tell by the movement of his lips that he wasn't speaking English, she
could understand him.
“Yeah... but Dylan and Karyn-”
“There is no time! Sacrifices must be made to save the world!” The King turned and ran across
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the cemetery toward the shimmering rip in reality. Before Spike knew what she was doing, she was
running after him, Weylin's ghost at her side. She became aware of Lainie a few moments later, also
making her way through the carnage toward the rip, shouting for Karyn and Dylan. Spike didn't shout,
but she hoped that they would make it out in time.
The fight within the in-between was bloody and vicious. The glow in Karyn's eyes had begun to
fade, but Kerboros was also badly hurt. His back was to the rip, and still seemed too focused on his
opponent to notice what was going on... it helped that the rip itself was almost invisible, except for the
Obakemono that clung to the fabric of reality itself, keeping it open.
Karyn could see Dylan, could tell how close she was. She could feel her body failing. The
massive heart was pumping sluggishly, her legs were trembling... but if she could do one last push, she
could make it. Just one last time, and then she could rest. Throwing all of her strength into what she
had to do, she reared up and roared... and Kerboros actually stepped back. She didn't look tired. She
looked... deadly. She focused on a change – and a massive version of Triceratops horns sprouted from
her huge head. She lowered her head and charged Kerboros like a jouster. He reared up and prepared to
deliver a blast of flame straight at her head before she could reach him.
It was exactly what she had hoped he would do.
Karyn checked her charge at the last second and turned broadside to Kerboros, then threw
herself at him in a massive shoulder check. Her wing and shoulder hit him square in the belly. Her wing
crumpled, bones snapping, leather tearing, and the air in the monster's lungs was expelled in a massive
blast of flame that scorched her back and other side even as her momentum forced him back... and
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through the gap.
Kerboros realized too late what was going on. He roared and snapped, his claws struggling to
grab the ground of the in-between, but the other dragon had to much momentum. He slowed, but he
didn't stop. As he fell through the gap and realized that there wasn't any ground on the other side, he
instead grabbed for his opponent. If he was to be banished, he would take the bitch who banished him
with him!
Karyn roared in pain as Kerboros' claws caught her good wing and pulled her toward the gap.
She was aware of Dylan's shout of “No!” but was also aware that there was nothing he could do. He
had to work at sealing the rip. Karyn had to make sure that Kerboros couldn't fly back out of the hole,
whether or not she was pulled through WITH him. She craned her long neck around, and clamped her
massive jaws down on his wing, wrenching until he howled and she felt the joint separate.
The sudden searing pain in his back was too much for Kerboros, and he released his hold on his
opponent to roar in pain – it was the last sound they heard, fading into the distance as he fell through
the gap and kept falling. Gone.
Karyn clawed desperately at the ground of the in-between, pulling herself back through the hole
even as Dylan sealed it. Once she was completely on the in-between side, she collapsed. The shadow
minions still in the in-between were now milling around, aimlessly. They didn't know what to do with
themselves without their master – but fighting wasn't anything they seemed interested in.
Dylan finished sealing the rip and reinforcing it, all the power of his race still flowing through
him. He landed in kitsune form and ran around to Karyn's massive head. Karyn! Karyn, shift back!
Human, wolf, anything!
“I don't think I can, Dylan,” her voice sounded... distracted and distant. It made Dylan's heart
ache. “They need you out there... go... seal the other rip...”
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Dylan whined.. Foxes can't cry. He shifted to his human form and wrapped his arms around her
muzzle. “I don't want to leave without you, my love.”
“You have to... Please, Dylan. They need you. Please go...” She sounded so weak, so very tired.
She just wanted to sleep. “It's OK... I love you. Go.”
For the first time in his long life, he cried. Now he understood why his elder had warned him
against becoming emotionally involved with his charge... And he still would not have done it any other
way. He'd rather mourn her for eternity than have lost the time he had with her. “I love you too...” He
swallowed. “I can stay with you-”
“No. They still need you, Dylan... go.” Her eyes were dimming, pleading as she looked at him.
“Please.”
Dylan kissed her muzzle, held her for a long moment... then turned and ran for the other rip.
Tears in his eyes, he shifted to his smallest fox form and ran as quickly as possible. Even as he left her
massive body behind, he saw a green glow in the edges of his vision. When he turned for a moment to
give one last look at his love, her body was gone... Absorbed by the power of nature itself, rather than
letting the one powered by life be consumed by death.
The howl of grief he let out echoed through the in-between, even as he launched himself
through the gap and back into the true world.
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They knew something was wrong the moment the Obakemono cleared the rip. Mostly because
he was alone, but also because the look on his face could be described in no other way but 'stricken.'
Dylan collapsed down onto the torn up ground on the other side of the rip and just lay there, panting.
Lainie didn't seem to register right away what was going on. Even as the Atlantean King used
his power to seal the rip, she shouted through, “Karyn!? Karyn, quick! He's almost done!”
Spike was staring down at Dylan. He looked so miserable, so lost. “Lainie,” she said quietly,
reaching out and touching the other woman's shoulder. “Lainie, stop. Karyn isn't coming.”
“What are you talking about?!” Lainie looked at the destroyer like she was insane. “She hasn't
come out yet! Of course she's...” She trailed off and her eyes found Dylan, lying on the torn up ground
like a puppet who's strings had been cut, soft whimpers escaping his muzzle. “Oh...”
Spike and Lainie watched together as the King finished sealing the rip – not even a seam could
be seen in the air.
The King turned to the women and bowed quietly. “One of your own has paid the ultimate
price for my stupidity... I cannot begin to express my sorrow.” Even as he spoke, he was beginning to
fade. His spirit had been trapped too long, and was eager to go onto wherever it was supposed to go
next. “My sincere condolences for your loss...” He looked down at the fox on the ground, but didn't
even dare to know where to begin. Instead, he simply gave them a slow wave, then released his atoms
upon the wind to reform where they would. At rest – at peace – finally.
Lainie felt tears stinging her eyes. She knelt and gently gathered Dylan's small fox form into her
arms, then looked at Spike. “Think... we can maybe crash at your apartment again?”
Spike just nodded, and her hand dropped to the ghost dog that still stood at her side. It passed
through the dog's head, but he closed his eyes, obviously feeling the touch. She turned and lead the way
out of the cemetery, even as they heard the first wails of sirens in the distance – beyond the sound of
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the many car alarms that were set off by the battle itself. They made it back to the apartment before the
police or fire department made it to the cemetery.
A massive, yet highly localized earthquake, the news said the next morning. That was the
explanation for the destroyed cemetery, the uprooted tree, the disturbed graves and destroyed
gravestones. People felt the earthquake for miles around. Some reported sounds like unbelievably huge
animals roaring that were explained away as old construction, stressed by the earthquake and straining
to stay upright. Spike turned off the TV and sighed.
When she'd finally managed to fall asleep the night before, Weylin had been “asleep” at the foot
of her bed. He'd been gone that morning... Gone, and yet not gone. That sense she'd had for years that
had become attuned to the shadow beings now seemed to be able to feel other things – like the presence
of the ghost of her dog. Weylin was still here... he'd never left her. And while she was thrilled to have
him back, in a way... all she had to do was glance at the back of her couch, and she felt incredibly
guilty that she felt happy about anything.
Dylan was laying across the back of Spike's couch like a small fur throw. He hadn't moved
since Lainie had laid him there when they'd returned to the apartment the night before. He was
breathing, and his eyes were open, but there was none of his former life in him.
Lainie stepped up beside Spike and set a glass of orange juice beside her. “Do you think he'll be
OK?”
Spike just shrugged. She didn't know much about psychology – shelving books on a topic didn't
make you an expert. “I don't know... Who knows how mythical creatures deal with grief?”
I can hear you both, you know. I am in mourning – not deaf. He pushed himself up slowly and
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climbed down from the couch, not doing his usual energetic bounds. I am going to go for a walk“...mmm... Dylan, stop moving... I'm still sleeping.”
To their credit, all three people in the room froze and looked at each other, then at Dylan. Lainie
was the first to break the silence, saying, incredulously, “Karyn?!”
“What? I'm sleeping...”
“Karyn, you're supposed to be DEAD!” Spike said, standing up and turning all the way around.
She didn't see the shape-shifter anywhere – not that she couldn't be something small and hiding
somewhere...
“I'm not dead... I don't think. I'm warm. Comfy... Ah! Dylan! Dylan, don't scratch!”
Dylan froze, his eyes wide in shock. He was sitting, hind leg raised and cocked, prepared to
scratch at the ear that had been itching horribly since he... since he leaped down from the couch.
Karyn... are... you a flea?
“Well.. yeah. I know I said no insects, but... as you were leaving, I just... I wanted to be tiny, and
I imagined riding with you... and suddenly I was so warm, and safe, and I know you wouldn't hurt me. I
just... burrowed in and slept.”
The fox looked like he would dance in pure jubilation. Shift to human, Karyn! Do not worry –
you won't hurt me.
“OK.”
There was a flash of light right beside Dylan's ear, and he leaped deftly aside as the light grew
bigger and Karyn appeared. She looked exhausted, her clothing was ripped and torn, but still hanging
together where it mattered, and a nasty scar disappeared up the back of one arm, into her shirt – most
likely ending at her shoulder blade where the wing had been torn off. Apparently if the wounds were
bad enough, she could carry more than just muscle soreness between forms.
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Spike gave a shout of joy, and before she could check herself, she was hugging Karyn. Lainie
joined in, and for the first time in her life, Spike realized that she felt COMFORTABLE with these
people. Truly comfortable – she could be herself. They accepted her, despite the fact that her power was
the most terrifying of all of theirs – even though she'd tried to push them away. And when it came down
to it, Karyn had been willing to give her life to save them all.
Lainie grinned as she hugged both other women. Karyn was alright – their triad was still whole.
She had so much trouble imagining it just being her, Spike, and Dylan... It was as if Karyn was some
sort of glue that cemented them together. That thread she'd felt was unraveling from the moment that
Karyn hadn't come back through from the in-between suddenly felt whole and strong again. She and
Spike were just getting ready to break the hug finally... they truly had become sisters – even to the point
of being reluctant to break a hug... when the hug was broken for them.
Karyn barely had time to squeak in surprise before she was pulled away from her sisters and
into Dylan's arms. The kiss was passionate, and the fox-man had literally swept her off her feet. Karyn
melted into his arms with a mewl of pleasure.
Lainie stared with big eyes, then exchanged a look with Spike, who was smirking. Well... That
explained the anatomical issues she was trying to figure out when she first realized that Dylan and
Karyn were sleeping together... Why it hadn't occurred to her that Dylan would have a human form is
beyond her, but it hadn't.
Spike cleared her throat, after letting the lovers have a nice long time to get reacquainted, and
smirked when both lovers were blushing upon separation. “Don't mean to bother you or anything, but
this IS my apartment. I didn't see a need to create a designated make-out spot.”
Karyn blushed deeper, but snuggled into Dylan's chest. The fox-turned-man smirked. “Then
perhaps you should.”
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Spike laughed and shook her head, then headed into her bedroom to get dressed... for being up
late saving the world the night before, she couldn't afford to miss a night of work. This wasn't a horrible
fate... the idea of having friends... roommates, maybe, even, in the future. It wasn't something she was
used to, though. And even as she changed clothes and heard Lainie and Karyn laughing about
something in the living room, she gazed at herself in the mirror. One hand touched her collar, the other
fingered Weylin's dog tag in her pocket.
“Mission accomplished,” she said quietly. And she smiled.