# chapters

path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211212211112121222111221111121212112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Spy in the White Shift
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll head back--" Sam starts.<br/>
<br/>
"Back wit'cher li'l gal?" You grin nastily and nod out at his truck. "When yew gonna make it legal wit'er?" He smiles back mirthlessly, and you slap him in the chest. "Leave her here a spell, if yew like."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes glint, and he glances to the side: toward Jape's old shack, you can tell. "Feelin' a little lonely, Jape?" he asks softly.<br/>
<br/>
You spit in the bucket.<br/>
<br/>
Sam shrugs, and you walk out with him to the truck, where he opens the passenger-side door. "Come on, Sally," he says. "Ol' Jape'll take care of you. My, ain't you gettin' to be a <i>big girl,</i>" he grunts as he lifts the unresisting child. She just looks around, paying no attention to him or you or anything else. "Run 'er along home when you're done," he says as he slides into the truck.<br/>
<br/>
"She gotta mind o'er own," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
He snorts. "She got everything <i>but</i> that."<br/>
<br/>
"Good."<br/>
<br/>
Sam glances at you, and for a moment lets show the intense loathing he feels for you and what he thinks you have in mind. He starts the truck, and drives off.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, come on, Sally," you tell her in a jocular voice. "I gotta li'l game we kin play. Called 'Spot th'imposter." You put a hand on her shoulder, but she pays no attention, and her head swivels from side to side as you draw her into the station.<br/>
<br/>
She's a small thing, with nut-brown skin; huge, staring eyes, like an owl's, that never seem to blink; and a thick tongue that can't fit in her mouth. A great, wild mane of brown hair explodes from the top of her head in huge tangles and falls down to her shoulders. She is dressed in a simple white shift that appears not to have been washed in a week or more. She has no shoes. <br/>
<br/>
You lead her back into the bay and punch the button that opens the secret compartment. As the lift comes up, you touch the back of her neck, knocking her out for seventy-two hours. You put her in the back with Jape, and slip her dress off her. She is wearing nothing underneath. You put your hand to her forehead, but as with Jape you keep her mind and body separate.<br/>
<br/>
Back in the office you pull on her mind--<br/>
<br/>
There's barely anything there. Vague, shifting images and impressions, disordered, and barely coherent even as things. You have no sense of which are recent and which are old; indeed, after dipping deeply (but briefly) into it, you have the impression she can't tell much difference between the past and the present, and probably doesn't remember anything that happened even a few minutes ago. <br/>
<br/>
You decide to keep Jape's mind nearby, so you can be guided by his own impressions of the way Sally acts.<br/>
<br/>
Which is seemingly random: She appears and disappears; she lingers and she flees. She stares and stares and stares, at anything and at nothing. Her face never shows anger or fear or happiness or sadness. Even when she eats--which she can do on her own--Sally never seems to notice her surroundings.<br/>
<br/>
But no one ever notices her, either.<br/>
<br/>
You disrobe and pull her <i>imago</i> on. Your first impression is of the thing in your mouth; it's like a huge wad of meat. You try to blink; it's hard, and more like clenching your eyes shut than actual blinking. Your face feels immobile. <i>That'll make it easy,</i> you reflect.<br/>
<br/>
She has no obvious deformities, save for her tongue and a general skinniness, but you feel no pleasure as you pull her shift over your head. You don't bother pushing your hair away.<br/>
<br/>
With eyes staring and head wobbling slightly, you skip and hop along the highway toward town, with the calluses on the bottoms of your dirty feet protecting you from the stones. You pass a few shanties, some of which have people sitting out in front, but no one stops or calls to the half-naked little girl skipping along through the cold mountain air.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But Cuthbert is not all shanties and trailers and lean-tos. It actually has a central town square, with a small green park taking up a tiny block in the center. Small two-story buildings of stone and brick frame it: the jail and courthouse, the city hall, the bank, the dry goods store, the grocery store, another gas station, and a few hard-goods stores. For a few blocks on either side there are some small but well-kempt houses and businesses. There is even a church. But they are all grey and weather-beaten and dingy under the leaden skies.<br/>
<br/>
No one stops you as you flit through the central district. No one seems to notice you. Even the few children you see pay no attention. And you ignore them.<br/>
<br/>
You walk along a broken sidewalk along one of the main thoroughfares, past a faded blue building with a big fish-shaped sign hanging out front. Houses become sparse, separated by lots covered by dead grass and weeds. You've been walking for miles, but Sally has been toughened by lots of wandering. <br/>
<br/>
And finally it comes into view: The Big House.<br/>
<br/>
It's like a big cube, grey like everything else in town, but the immense bay windows glint in the fading sunlight. The yard is tidy, and the veranda is clear of clutter, except for a few wicker chairs. You hop up the wooden steps to the front door, and step in.<br/>
<br/>
The foyer is neat and clean and rather floral, in a faded way. There are two doorsways, leading left and right, and before you is an immense staircase. There is a banister on one side, and a metal railing on the other. The latter is like a railroad track, and attached to it is an immense, cushioned chair. Wheels and chains and pulleys can lift it along the track, to carry the village's crippled matriarch up and down. The chair is at the bottom, and you hear voices from the parlor on the left.<br/>
<br/>
Grandmother is there, wallowing on a low sofa. Her face is broad and jowly; pimples and whiskers disfigure her broad upper lip. Spectacles in silver frames hide her piggy eyes. Her iron-gray hair is pulled up in a huge bun.<br/>
<br/>
She ignores you as you linger just inside the doorway. Her entire attention is bent on the figure before her.<br/>
<br/>
You keep your face frozen, for it is Will Shabbleman.<br/>
<br/>
He slouches insolently, and avoids her gaze. "How many times do I have to tell you, Grandmother, I've never seen him before."<br/>
<br/>
"He's a strikin' lookin' young fella," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"So I would've remembered seeing him."<br/>
<br/>
She stares at him, hard. "Rosalie says he had dealings with that fat old man what fetched you down from our bosom."<br/>
<br/>
Shabbleman shrugs. "He had lots of dealings--Blackwell, I mean. And he had me laying low after that other one showed back up again."<br/>
<br/>
"But you didn't look into them after they burned his place down?"<br/>
<br/>
"I tried, but it's a big town, and I didn't have any luck."<br/>
<br/>
"She fancies him, boy. A grandmother can tell."<br/>
<br/>
"It's the other one she fancies, ain't it? According to her, he's just <i>lookin'</i> like--"<br/>
<br/>
"The other one, the fat one," she interrupts. "He didn't have no magic like that, did he? Magic to make folk look like what they ain't?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. If this'n--" Shabbleman shrugs tightly. "If this'n can do what she says he can do, I don't think Blackwell coulda stood up to 'im."<br/>
<br/>
"Could I?" Her voice is very quiet.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Can he do more than change his face? He coulda got in to Blackwell's place, done all kinds of mischief to him, if Blackwell wasn't expecting him. But you know what he is, and he don't know you know."<br/>
<br/>
"But there'll be others comin' in," she says. "Jape turned one fella back today, Sam says. Sent two more in--"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gummint men, it looks like. Nate's got 'em in lock up. That catch your ear, boy?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's Zach's business, not ours."<br/>
<br/>
"Everything's our business, boy. Is <i>that</i> why you asked who they were?"<br/>
<br/>
"You said there might be more coming in, Grandmother. I aim to help, and can't help if I don't know what you know."<br/>
<br/>
She smiles in a nasty way. "You're clever, boy. Glad to see I didn't raise me a dummy. But if there's more comin' in--" She gets a very shrewd look. "That ain't a bad thing, it strikes a soul."<br/>
<br/>
"Who <i>are</i> they?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never you mind. But Zach ain't the only one in the sausage-makin' business." She leans back, and fiddles with one of her canes. "We could lay in some supplies," she muses. "Against the day I find my old gammy's book o' receipts." She touches Shabbleman in the chest with her cane. "Rosalie don't got feelings for you, Will. How does that make you feel?"<br/>
<br/>
"She does what you tell her, Grandmother. She brought that'n up here like you asked."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but your heart would ache so, wouldn't it, boy, to know she was thinking of another's face while taking your seed?"<br/>
<br/>
Shabbleman shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Kill 'im," she says softly. "You'd feel better for killin' him, wouldn't you, boy?"<br/>
<br/>
"I like me some killin'," he says with a soft grin.<br/>
<br/>
"So you <i>say,</i>" says the old woman.<br/>
<br/>
The far door opens, and a tall, bony woman with huge, staring eyes comes in. She does a double-take, and gasps when she sees you--the first real reaction to Sally's presence you've seen. She looks over her shoulder into the room she's come from, and with a frightened expression hurries over to Grandmother. She whispers in her ear.<br/>
<br/>
The old woman turns to stare at you, long and hard; you pretend to ignore her, and Shabbleman's more cursory glance.<br/>
<br/>
"Take her in hand," Grandmother says. "I'll see to her in a spell."<br/>
<br/>
The woman hurries over and takes you by the hand; unresisting, you let her pull you upstairs, where she locks you in a bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Kill him,</i> Grandmother had said to Shabbleman. She must have been talking about Joe. <i>Just observe,</i> Rick had said. But you don't have your phone to call him, as you'd had no spot to put it on Sally's body.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112122111121212221112211111212121122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Thing Beneath the Church
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Nervously, you pace the bedroom, though not in a purposeful way; like Sally, you just wander about, bouncing off the cherry-wood furniture, the wardrobe, the vanity table. It's a nice bedroom, much nicer than you'd expect to find in a town like Cuthbert, decorated with a floral wallpaper and little glass baubles. Framed black-and-white photographs on the walls show grim-faced Shabblemans; to your discomfort, you can glimpse traces of your own features in them, and of Rosalie's, and of Robert's and your own mother's.<br/>
<br/>
An hour passes as you wonder what to do. Nothing, you finally decide. The door is locked from the outside, and Sally doesn't seem the type to open a window and shimmy down a pipe. And Joe said he knew it was a trap. You'd trust Frank more to survive in a corner, but Joe is smart. Mostly you're regretting taking Sally and not Sam as a disguise, for you keenly miss your cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
The clock on the mantle has just chimed six, and the sky outside is almost invisible in the encroaching dusk, when the bedroom door jiggles. Another woman--a young girl with two slits where her nose should be--comes in. She doesn't speak, just seizes you firmly and tugs the dirty shift off you and drapes a clean one on. She takes you by the hand and pulls you roughly downstairs. Grandmother is in the door to her parlor, leaning on her canes, and you let wide, unseeing eyes fall on her as you pass. Her lips are curled into a nasty grin. Outside, the girl pushes you into a car. There's a tall man behind the wheel: Nate Shabbleman, the town constable, Jape's memories tell you.<br/>
<br/>
It's a short, silent drive back into town; he parks in front of the church, and he pulls you out and roughly up to a side door. It's pitch black inside, and smells of dead flowers and old cloth. With a firm hand on the back of your neck he leads you into the sanctuary and up to the pulpit. He grasps it; there's a click, and he pushes it to the side.<br/>
<br/>
Yellow light spills up from a trap door. You linger next to it, and Nate seizes you under the shoulders, lifts you, and drops you into it.<br/>
<br/>
You bite your tongue hard as you land on hard concrete, but you've little feeling in it, and just scramble up. Nate follows you, sliding down a ladder. He seizes you again, and pushes you down some steps and along a rude stone corridor. It opens into a large underground room lit by flickering bulbs.<br/>
<br/>
There's a small cell in the corner, inside of which you see one of the men you'd waved into town earlier. It's the clean-shaven man, and his dark eyes glitter as he looks at Nate. Hunched in a chair by the cell is another man, barefoot, but in a parka. One of the sleeves is pinned up.<br/>
<br/>
But the room itself is dominated by something that looks like an enormous still. Three huge steel tanks hang from the ceiling, each with a mare's nest of tightly coiled metal tubes coming out. These all lead to a bulbous glass cylinder, and it hurts your eyes to look at it; the curves on it seem all wrong, and you have the unsettling impression that it is inside out. Another glass tube leads from it to a thing that looks like a pressure cooker suspended by wires from the ceiling. And from this hangs a rubber tube, ending in a long, vicious-looking needle, that hangs next to a chair.<br/>
<br/>
The chair has straps on it, at the wrists and ankles and neck, like an electric chair.<br/>
<br/>
Nate pushes you over to the cell, and to your alarm handcuffs you to it. "Grandmother wants you to watch this," he says, looking you direct in the eye. You affect not to understand, and he snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna use <i>her?</i>" the man in overalls says in a trembling voice. His head is narrow, with a prow-like nose extending from a sloping forehead over a weak chin; a huge double Adam's apple bobs in his throat.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe later," says Nate. "It depends." He takes a gun from his holster and addresses the man in the cell. "I'm going to open this up," he says, "and you're going to sit quietly in that chair over there." He nods at the chair under the apparatus. "You do what I say, and you'll walk out of here a healthy man. You don't, and--" He cocks the gun. "We don't got much crime up here in Cuthbert, which leaves me lots of time to practice my marksmanship. At this range, I won't kill ya, but I will make ya hurt."<br/>
<br/>
"Do what he says, mister," says the man in the chair, and his voice trembles harder. "For both our sakes."<br/>
<br/>
Nate unlocks the cell door and steps back, keeping his pistol aimed low. The prisoner steps out slowly, and slowly makes his way over to the chair, and slowly sits down. "Coop," Nate says, and the other man scrambles over. "Keep your head down," Nate says, and trains his pistol on the prisoner.<br/>
<br/>
With his one arm the other Cuthberite binds the prisoner into the chair. "Is this really going to work?" he says. It sounds like two voices straining out of his throat, and you realize he isn't scared; it's just the way his throat is built.<br/>
<br/>
"Ain't used it since I was a little boy," Nate says. "But we keep her oiled and polished."<br/>
<br/>
You're glad for Sally's frozen face when Nate picks up the hose and stabs the needle deep into the back of the prisoner's neck. He gasps and gurgles, and his eyes bulge. Nate twists a valve on the hose, and the man goes stiff; his eyes go out of alignment.<br/>
<br/>
Nate spends a few minutes adjusting nozzles and valves and tubes. His attitude strikes you as a little strange, for he moves jerkily from task to task, listening between movements, and murmuring softly to himself. When he's satisfied, he goes over to a large lever in the floor, and pulls it.<br/>
<br/>
From beneath the ground comes a groaning and roaring. A rumbling shudder passes through the contraption, and you think you hear escaping steam. The tubes quiver, and the glass cylinder starts to sing.<br/>
<br/>
But your eyes are quickly drawn to the man in the chair. He makes a choking noise, then lets out a deep, shuddering sigh. His head lolls a little to the side.<br/>
<br/>
And then he begins to shrink. But he doesn't grow smaller, at least in height. He just seems to lose mass and definition. His already lean face grows leaner and leaner. His shoulders droop. His pants and his flannel shirt sag. You look away, for Sally never concentrates on anything for long, but you let your gaze wander back from time to time. Within a few minutes, his head is in alarming shape. His eyes have sunk so far into the sockets that they've disappeared, and his forehead has collapsed. He looks like a balloon figure that is deflating. And he continues to shrink and sag.<br/>
<br/>
Inside of ten minutes there's just a pile of loose clothing. The glass tubes and cylinders, meanwhile, have filled with a dark liquid that swirls evilly. The steel tanks groan and pop. It continues to make a racket even as Nate snatches up the clothes, disentangling them from the rubber hose.<br/>
<br/>
From the clothes he pulls free something like a long, deflated balloon. He pushes the clothes to the floor, and gestures the other man over. The latter has taken off his overalls and, naked, sits in the chair. He grips the edge with his one arm.<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme help ya," Nate says, and kneels in front of him. The man raises his feet, and Nate slips one end of the balloon over them and carefully tugs it up.<br/>
<br/>
He has to shift about as he works, and for most of the time Nate's body obscures your view. After a few minutes both men stand, and Nate continues to work at him. There's lots of tucking and smoothing and pulling at his body. Then the man sits, and Nate goes behind the chair.<br/>
<br/>
Now you do stare. The man's body has completely changed; it is now strong, well-proportioned, trim. He has two arms, and with both hands pinches himself lightly in various places. A cock rises to half mast between his legs.<br/>
<br/>
Nate draws something up the back of the man's head, and pulls it over like a mask. He brushes at the face for a bit, but the man reaches up and does his own adjustments. Then he stands.<br/>
<br/>
It's the man who had been in the cell. There is no lumpiness to his body, no sign of anything untoward beneath. He looks completely normal, in body and face. Even his eyes glitter blackly.<br/>
<br/>
"Gotta name, have you?" Nate asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Just my own," the man replies, and there is no tremble in his baritone. "Am I supposed to have anything 'cept the skin?" He snatches up the discarded clothes.<br/>
<br/>
Nate glances at the machinery. "No," he sighs. "And you won't have that long, maybe a week if you take care of it. Take ya back to the jailhouse, now, put you with your 'friend'." He leers over the word. "You find out exactly who they are and what they want. Dependin' on who they be, we might fill up a coupla more bottles."<br/>
<br/>
And then he looks down at you. "That's right," he says softly. "Dependin' on who we got at the jailhouse, we might just be drainin' you off too. Let's put you in that cell now."<br/>
<br/>
He saunters over, and bends to take off your handcuffs.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Screw observation,</i> you decide, and touch him as he bends. He falls heavily to the ground. The other man looks over at the noise, and comes over too. When he's in reach, you dart out a hand and knock him out as well.<br/>
<br/>
You fish Nate's keys off him and unlock yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Now you do feel the pinch of decision: Ten to one, whatever they just did they're going to try doing to Joe. Can you get back to your phone, and can Rick and Miko get into town fast enough to stop it? Or do you try a rescue yourself?</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221121221111212122211122111112121211222
author_id: seuzz
title: Cousins and Lovers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>At the very least you should pick up Nate Shabbleman's <i>imago,</i> so you bend to press a little hand to his forehead. As with the others, you keep mind and body separate, and after standing back up again plunge into his brain.<br/>
<br/>
First, Joe: <i>Good.</i> Last Nate knew, your colleague was at Rosalie's house, oblivious to the dark threads gathered about him. Grandmother had given Nate no orders concerning him. As for you--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> Your cover isn't just blown, it's in tatters. Well, you would have figured that based on what they did with you. But Grandmother had sent Nate out to Jape's to look around, and he had found Jape and Sally and the rental car. "Lowland magician, shapeshifter of some kind," Grandmother had told Nate when he'd returned to the Big House. She'd pointed up the stairs with one of her canes. "You watch yourself. Take her down to the church basement, lock her in, show her what's in store. Drain off one of them others that Zach caught. Could be they're in it together."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know how to run the still," Nate had said.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell ya when you get there," she'd said, and given him a ring.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck!</i> She's here now, in spirit. It's one of her tricks: She's got devices that let her spy. That ring on Nate's finger will be one of them. Grandmother was sitting in her parlor, watching and listening and speaking to him. She'll have seen what you did to Nate and Charlie. She'll be sending reinforcements over right now.<br/>
<br/>
The only good news is that Nate took your bag over to the Big House. If you can get back in there, you can call Rick.<br/>
<br/>
You scoop up Charlie's discarded overalls and run for the exit.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's pitch black outside: clouds obliterate the stars, and there are no streetlights in Cuthbert. But it means no one is likely to see you. On the other hand, you won't be able to see anyone to throw your cloak over them.<br/>
<br/>
You don't have any safe disguises, but you will be safer in a bigger body than a smaller one. You tear off Sally's shift, and, still running across the churchyard, pull on Phil Dawes's tall, strong frame. Bad idea: you stumble in mid-stride and sprawl across the stiff, dead grass. You scramble up, and cover your nakedness with Charlie's overalls. They're far too small--the cuffs of the legs only come halfway down your calves--but they'll afford you a little protection. None from the bitter cold, though. A soft but sharp wind, smelling of snow, has begun to blow.<br/>
<br/>
You leap the church wall and drop into an alley. A car passes along a nearby street, but there's no other sign of immediate pursuit. You only pull up short when you step into the lot next to the Big House.<br/>
<br/>
The upstairs are dark, but there's a light in the parlor window. You hop carefully over to it. Through a chink in the curtains you peer in.<br/>
<br/>
The frightened-looking woman who pointed you out to Grandmother is on the sofa, sitting rigidly, her hands clasped. It's "Aunt Sarah," Sally's mother, though Sally is too addled to understand "mother," let alone recognize she who birthed her. "Aunt Sarah," who hardly ever leaves the Big House, and is rarely seen even within it. But Nate sees her, and quite often, for Aunt Sarah is one of his favorites, and he is one of hers. <br/>
<br/>
Indeed, she treats Nate Shabbleman with a tenderness that is just short of the incestuous. <br/>
<br/>
The world goes grey as you slip into Nate's <i>imago.</i> Like his nephew, Will, he is one of the few well-shaped Shabblemans around; if you'd managed your infiltration better, he would have been one of the best and most comfortable hiding places in this benighted little burg.<br/>
<br/>
You rap lightly on the window. Aunt Sarah jumps at the sound, then with staring eyes comes over. "Nate!" she softly gasps after brushing curtains aside and opening the window. "What--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hush! Is Grandmother near?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. No," she whispers back. "She went out in the car only a few minutes ago. What--"<br/>
<br/>
"I cocked things up bad, Aunt Sarah," you gasp. You grab the back of her head and draw her close to give her a short but hungry kiss on the mouth. "Grandmother-- I gotta-- That bag I brought in earlier. It still in the foyer?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. I think. Nate, what did--"<br/>
<br/>
"Bring it over? I only got one chance to make it right for Grandmother, or--"<br/>
<br/>
She nods, looking even more frightened, and hurries away. You look nervously around, hopping from foot to foot. Grimly, through your fear, you recognize it as one of Nate's mannerisms, a remnant from his boyhood.<br/>
<br/>
"Nate, I--" Aunt Sarah is back, but she is empty-handed. "It's not there. I think Grandmother must have-- In fact, I remember now, she took it with her."<br/>
<br/>
You groan. "Oh, Auntie, that's-- If I can't--"<br/>
<br/>
"What can I do for you, Nate?" Her voice is soft, pleading.<br/>
<br/>
"You do love me, don't you, Auntie?" You leap up and kiss her again. <br/>
<br/>
She follows you back down, and kisses you all along the side of your mouth. "Oh, you know I do, Nate, ever since you was--"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't go through the front door, Auntie. But meet me up in your bedroom. I'll take the rain pipe."<br/>
<br/>
"But--"<br/>
<br/>
"Bedroom, Auntie!"<br/>
<br/>
She sucks in a hard, trembling breath, and nods.<br/>
<br/>
You shimmy up onto the veranda, and run lightly around to her bedroom window. She's just opening it when you get there, and you swing over the sill. You're reaching to knock her out, but she grabs you first, putting both hands on your cheeks. "Nate! Sally! She's mine, my only, but if you want her, if you want to take her--" She shudders, and kisses you again, hard. You feel her tears on your cheeks. "Take her, Nate. Take her with my blessing. She's of an age now, and she won't-- She won't-- Know. What it is you're--"<br/>
<br/>
You embrace her, and touch the back of her neck before she can finish.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You horrible woman," you mutter as you tuck flabby boobs into the cups of a cheap bra. "Of all the horrible--" You pull stockings up over skinny, disfigured calves and knees. You swallow hard, and with fluttering hands pull the dress over your head and settle it about your twisted torso. Your eyes clench rather than blink as you try to force back tears. You're feeling not just your horror, but Sarah Shabbleman's own horror as you turn toward the mirror. Her huge, terror-stricken eyes gaze back at you. You pull the belt tight around your waist, and your eye falls on the little porcelain bird, and another shudder ripples through you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You sit in the back parlor, behind Grandmother's front parlor, every day, all day, hands clasped around that bird. Your forty-year-old bones are nearly frozen in that attitude, and even when not on "watch" you sit in that attitude. But you don't see the parlor through your staring, staring eyes. You see the outer world, bumping along, through the eyes of Sally Shabbleman, and feel the stones under her feet through the soles of your black pumps. "Turn, turn," you mutter, and Sally stumbles in another direction. "Eat, eat." You feel the fork in your clenched hand as it carries food to her daughter's mouth. "Stop, stop." Sally pauses, to gaze long and hard at Nate Shabbleman. The hot flush within you has no correspondent in Sally. But what she feels there--what she <i>would</i> feel there--you feel.<br/>
<br/>
Grandmother had pressed the bird's twin into Sarah's brain when she was a newborn infant, before the bones at the top of her skull had closed. No one sees Sally, not really. But Sally sees all, and so you see all, and from you Grandmother hears all. Only when Sally sleeps can Sarah release herself from sentinel duty.</i><br/>
<br/>
"You horrible woman," you mutter to yourself, but a maudlin wave of pity washes over you as you push the naked woman under her own bed and let the bedspread fall back to the floor. Is it your pity for Sarah Shabbleman you feel, or her pity for herself?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Nervously, you pat your hair down, and snatch up some bobby pins from the vanity, biting them open and shoving them into the mess. This is terrible. You yourself are dreadfully nervous, not knowing what to do, and dreading evolutions, both the unforeseen and the all-too-easily foreseeable. And you've put yourself inside the mind and body of a woman who is nothing but nerves. The skin about your thin lips puckers and folds as, with trembling fingers, you slide some pale lipstick over them.<br/>
<br/>
With a flutter and sigh you open the door and step into the hallway. There is no point in trying to call Rick; all calls go through Molly at the ancient switchboard, and out-of-town calls always need clearance from Grandmother.<br/>
<br/>
And Sarah Shabbleman never steps from the Big House; if you leave, to warn Joe, and get caught, it will look very strange. If you leave, and cannot find him, and return to a waiting Grandmother, you will have blown your newest cover. It's a good cover for getting close to the old witch. Just get close enough to touch her--<br/>
<br/>
You turn at the top of the stairs, and step back with a little shriek. "Will, you startled me," you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Everything startles you, Aunt Sarah," Will Shabbleman says. His face is pale. "Where's Grandmother?"<br/>
<br/>
"She went out. Weren't you here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just came in, was down at Zach's gettin' a bite." He fixes you with a glance. "You got a minute to talk?"</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211212211112121222111221111121212112221
author_id: seuzz
title: Faces from the Past
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Anytime for you, Will." You smile at him, but your lips flutter nervously, and you wring your hands.<br/>
<br/>
This is actually a pretty good chance. Surely it won't take more than a minute to get him alone, knock him out, and copy his memories. You are very curious to know what he's been doing, for Blackwell doesn't seem the type to let a victim get away.<br/>
<br/>
He gestures at the spare bedroom behind you, and with a nervous glance you precede him into it. He closes the door behind when you're both inside. You could just fly at him, but you prefer to give him a short listen first. Besides, he might react badly if you went straight for his body.<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on, Aunt Sarah?" he asks. His face is pale.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you say in trembling voice. "Nobody tells me anything--"<br/>
<br/>
"Where did Grandmother go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Out. She was in the front parlor, meditating--"<br/>
<br/>
"Meditating bullshit. Who was she spying on?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have no idea, Will. She sent Sally out--"<br/>
<br/>
"Why aren't <i>you</i> with Sally, Aunt Sarah?"<br/>
<br/>
"M- me?" Your eyes wander with terror, and you squeeze your hands tightly. "I- I'm never with Sally, she has free run of the town--"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I mean, Aunt Sarah." He steps up close, and looks down at you from under lowering brows. "I learned a few things when I was with that lowlander wizard, and I can recognize certain signs I couldn't read before. Grandmother and her little birds, for one. Sally and you, for another."<br/>
<br/>
"I-- That's--" You gasp ineffectually.<br/>
<br/>
"And now there's an outsider in town, staying with my Rosalie, claims to be able to change his face. It seems to me that <i>some</i> people around here aren't acting quite like themselves. Rosalie, for instance. Sally, for another." He leans close. "Grandmother," he adds in a whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"Grandmother?" you whisper back. "You don't think Grandmother is-- Oh, no, it couldn't be--"<br/>
<br/>
"She hasn't given me a very warm welcome since my return. She's treating me badly. I haven't done anything to displease her, have I? She hasn't mentioned--?" He trails off.<br/>
<br/>
"No, Will, not a breath, certainly not to me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Was she spying on me while I was in Saratoga Falls?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will, I really ... don't ... know!"<br/>
<br/>
His lips curl up a little at the corner. "Do I make you nervous, Aunt Sarah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nervous?" Your voice is something between a squeak and a whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"Like Uncle Nate makes you nervous?"<br/>
<br/>
You suck in a little breath. <i>Perfect chance.</i> You hope you're reading it right. "Will, I--" You raise a quivering hand to his face. He doesn't stop you. "I--" You lay it on his cheek. You force your eyes shut. "Hold me, Will."<br/>
<br/>
He puts his arms around you. You put your free arm around him. You bring up the sigil.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't collapse.<br/>
<br/>
You open your eyes. He's staring past you, eyes bulging. You feel a burning in the palm of your hand, and it rapidly becomes painful. Still he doesn't topple.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow, and pull your hand away. He closes his eyes, and a shudder passes through him.<br/>
<br/>
But before he can open them again you have your hand at his face. Quickly, you murmur words you haven't murmured in many weeks but which you know because they are carved into your very body. You pull at his brow.<br/>
<br/>
A mask comes away in your hand, and the bloated face of Professor Aubrey Blackwell appears. You stagger back as his great paunch explodes against you, and he falls heavily onto the floor.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, this isn't really an unexpected development; the suspicion had crossed your mind a few times, but you'd put it aside as an unprofitable speculation. Does Grandmother know? Given his questions for you, and the cat-and-mouse game down in the parlor you'd witnessed earlier, you doubt it. But it will definitely be worth knowing what he knows.<br/>
<br/>
Might be useful too to have his complete <i>imago</i> on file. You kneel beside him and cover his forehead with your hand.<br/>
<br/>
You only touch at his memories lightly, however; just enough to satisfy your curiosity on a few points. So:<br/>
<br/>
Datum: He turned Will Shabbleman into a golem and buried him next to the mausoleum. On a scale of one to ten, your surprise at this is minus two.<br/>
<br/>
Datum: After you rescued him, he used Jonathan Straussler's credit cards, debit cards, and access to various accounts to rapidly lay his hands on-- Surprise at stealing Straussler's money? One. That he got his hands on nearly eighty-five thousand dollars? That's a seventeen on a ten-point scale.<br/>
<br/>
Datum: He raided his own house while the possessed Frank was out and stole Shabbleman's mask, a handful of tools, and a few books. That's a nine, because you wouldn't think Blackwell has that much stick in him.<br/>
<br/>
Datum: He hid out in Saratoga Falls under Shabbleman's face, and even broke into Frank and Joe's one or two times after they burned his house. A six, and that low only because you figure Shabbleman's mask gave him the nerve.<br/>
<br/>
Datum: He came back to Cuthbert under Shabbleman's face. You don't know what his reasons for <i>that</i> are. But he damn well didn't tell Grandmother who he really is.<br/>
<br/>
Datum: He still thinks Frank is possessed by his own anima. You don't know how to score <i>that</i> on the surprise scale. No wonder he's nervous about Joe's suddenly turning up in Cuthbert.<br/>
<br/>
All very interesting, but only in a "Where Are They Now?" kind of way. At the moment, you're more interested in the deduction he had made just a little while ago: Grandmother was spying on Will Shabbleman all the time he was down in Saratoga Falls, and almost certainly knows it was an imposter who returned under his face.<br/>
<br/>
And you're interested in that because it gives you a deduction of your own: Grandmother was certainly spying on Rosalie the entire time she was there too. She would have heard much of and maybe everything Joe said to Rosalie; maybe what you had said to her too.<br/>
<br/>
 Did Rosalie know she was being spied on?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sarah Shabbleman never paid much attention to Rosalie Stewart, but she saw things, with her own eyes, and through the eyes of another. You've only to think of Rosalie and you see them too.<br/>
<br/>
The little girl, trembling in Grandmother's parlor, awaiting her pleasure or displeasure. The little girl, biting back tears as a thin, whip-like cane struck the back of her bare legs, punishment for tiny sins and forgetful lapses. The tiny girl, stiff with terror in Grandmother's lap as she was petted and kissed, waiting for the moment when caresses would turn without reason or warning into smacks. The little girl, stifling screams as she was put in the pit and shut in the dark with the snakes and beetles, simply to learn "what happens to naughty children." The little girl who was given a puppy on her tenth birthday, so she could watch it being drowned in a rain barrel as punishment for a transgression whose nature she was never told. A little girl who was told that Grandmother was always watching her, and always weighing her in the balance.<br/>
<br/>
She didn't have to know that Grandmother was watching. She would have believed it regardless.<br/>
<br/>
You think of the coltish girl that Joe found in Saratoga Falls, and her warm, grave eyes. You look at Blackwell. What would your eyes have looked like, if you had been raised and tortured by him? You doubt they would have looked as calm as Rosalie's. <br/>
<br/>
You raise your eyes at the sound of a bell. The church bells. They haven't been rung to summon the town folk in thirty years, not since the night--<br/>
<br/>
Well, no one knows what it was that escaped. They only found the folks it had found, and those that picked up what was left, and buried them, themselves sickened soon thereafter, and were told to lay themselves in open graves, there to die, so none others would have to follow <i>them.</i><br/>
<br/>
Now, again, something terrifying is loose in the town, and Grandmother is summoning all her kin and relations, to warn them.<br/>
<br/>
A grim smile twitches at your lips. <i>You</i> are that thing.<br/>
<br/>
You bend over, and knock Blackwell out for another six hours, then put Will Shabbleman's mask back over him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The town square is dark, and the crowds are a darker mass in the black pit that is Cuthbert. Grandmother will expect Aunt Sarah in the center, with her, in the decayed bandstand. You push through the crowd with feeble apologies. Maybe she sees you approach, and maybe she doesn't, as she leans against her canes, her face close to a microphone connected to loudspeakers. The crowd is silent. You spot Rosalie nearby, and sidle over to her. She pays you no notice. Joe is not with her.<br/>
Grandmother gives the laggards another five minutes to gather, and then she speaks.<br/>
<br/>
"I pray you are all here," she says, and her rasping voice booms into the darkness. "But I am speaking to only one. If you are here, you know who you are. There's a boy in the church yonder, praying too that you hear me, and that you'll do as I bid. Step forward, confess your presence, and I will spare you both. Defy me, and that boy in the church will become thin. <i>Very. Thin.</i> I give you ten minutes."<br/>
<br/>
The crowd is silent, and only the wind whispers in the dark. Then, with a small murmur, a dozen figures struggle to the front.<br/>
<br/>
"Not you, you fools!" Grandmother screams. "I'm talking to the lowlander! But mark those there who came forward," she mutters to the man at her elbow.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Everyone will be here,</i> you think to yourself, <i>including Molly at the switchboard.</i> You can slip over there and place the call.<br/>
<br/>
You step a little to the side, and brush against Rosalie.<br/>
<br/>
Could you trust <i>her</i> to make the call, while you distracted Grandmother?</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112122111121212221112211111212121122212
author_id: seuzz
title: Giving a Witch What She Wants
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You glance over your shoulder: the crowds are thinner around the back of the bandstand. You slip your hand into Rosalie's--she jumps a tiny bit--and throw your cloak over Grandmother. Rick has had you practice smuggling lots of things under your cloak, and you're pretty sure you can get Rosalie out. As long as she's quiet. "Don't talk," you whisper in her ear, and squeeze her hand. She shifts a little in apparent surprise, but follows.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly you sidle backwards out the bandstand, winding your way through the open spaces in the crowd. When you're clear of the crowd, you and Rosalie vanish into the dark. <br/>
<br/>
"What is it, Aunt Sarah," Rosalie asks when you stop just around the corner of the bank.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not your Aunt Sarah, Rosalie," you reply in a low voice. "It's me. Nick Martin. Or Will Prescott, whichever name you prefer." Rosalie looks back at you dumbly. "You know, the shapeshifting <i>Stellae</i> you met in Saratoga Falls."<br/>
<br/>
"How did you get out of the church?" she asks in a quiet voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't. That's Joe in there. He <i>told</i> you he was me, but it's Joe. I've been sneaking around all day trying to find you. Making a total clusterfuck of things, too. Your grandmother has a lot of nasty surprises in this town. Now listen, I need your help."<br/>
<br/>
"Help?" she says faintly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, help!" You remind yourself she's very new at this, and utterly terrified of her grandmother. "Can you run the phone exchange? Make a call out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Molly showed me once," she stammers. "She's very sweet."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Call this number." You give her Rick's cell. "Tell the man who answers that you have a message from the squirt. The squirt, okay? Tell  him I need Godzilla and a rickshaw, and I need them yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Godzilla and a rickshaw?"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. Squirt needs Godzilla and a rickshaw, inside the church." You squeeze her forearm. "Will you do that for me? I'm counting on you."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Mr. Martin," she stammers.<br/>
<br/>
"Will," you correct her. "My real name is Will Prescott. I'm actually a cousin of yours. I really want to get you out of this, Rosalie, safely away from your grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"I won't ever be able to get away from her," she says sadly.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course you will. I got away from someone nasty myself. Please, Rosalie. All you have to do is make that phone call. I'll keep your grandmother distracted."<br/>
<br/>
She hesitates, then nods. You touch her shoulder and send her along.<br/>
<br/>
Your little code should tell Rick the message is on the level. And "Godzilla" should really piss Miko off. You think you'll want her mad.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Someone has fetched a chair in the meantime, and Grandmother is sitting in it, leaning forward against her canes, staring ahead at nothingness. You wonder what's passing through her head. Anger? Naturally. Malicious plots? Certainly. Fear? You can hope.<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes she'd given you to come forward. You've likely got two minutes left. Do you surrender? What will she do if do? You know what she'll do to Joe if you don't. She only has to say the word--<br/>
<br/>
But what if she doesn't say the word? What if she fell asleep, and couldn't be woken up?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Perfect.</i> And as Aunt Sarah, you can get close.<br/>
<br/>
No one stops you as you approach the great, bloated witch. If you could just touch her at the neck or shoulder, as though laying a supplicating hand there. But she's bundled up against the cold, with a rough cloth and shawl. Her fat but gnarled hands are resting her lap, however. You only have to lay your palm there.<br/>
<br/>
You come up to her shoulder. She doesn't respond. You lean over to whisper in her ear. You put your hand out, and bring up the sigil.<br/>
<br/>
Her other hand strikes like a viper, seizing your wrist in a vise-like grip. Her head shifts. "Got you!" she hisses. She wrenches your hand over, revealing the dimly glowing sigil. "Grab her!" she cries. "Grab Sarah!"<br/>
<br/>
You wriggle, and bring your other hand up, but she is strong, far stronger than you would ever have guessed, and you can't get a palm onto her. Strong hands seize you at the shoulders and waist. You twist and shut your eyes, lunging for Phil Dawes's <i>imago</i> again. Briefly, you feel hands falling off you. But then they are over you again, and someone kicks your feet away, and you fall with many bodies crushing you beneath.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They bind you and carry you over their heads into the church, whose sanctuary is now dimly lighted. They push the pulpit aside and drop you through the trapdoor like a sack. You discover that hitting the floor like a big guy hurts a lot more than hitting it like a small girl. It's another minute or so before three more join you: Oliver Gibson, and Neddie and Adam Shabbleman; strong but misshapen youths. You do a little double take at Neddie: He has a volcanic sprout of hair spurting out his bullet-shaped skull. <i>Jesus, he turned out ugly.</i> They push you along, down the steps. The set-up is the same, though the participants are different. Nate and the skin-wearer, still unconscious, have been shoved into a corner; Alvin Shabbleman is standing guard in the middle of the room; and a very bemused-looking Joe is inside that little jail cell.<br/>
<br/>
"Howdy, Joe," you say with a little nod of your head. "Turns out Rick had some different travel plans for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Howdy, Will," he replies. "I kinda figured he might. Nice dress," he adds, for you're still in Aunt Sarah's one piece.<br/>
<br/>
"You two shut yer yaps," Oliver says. He looks around. "Granny said Nate'd have it on him," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"It's the ring on his right hand," you say. "It's like a broadcast tower. Grandmother can see and hear everything that goes on down here. If you put it on, she'll be able to talk to you." Oliver frowns at you. "You'll be able to hear her, too. I think. I couldn't hear her when she was talking to Nate earlier."<br/>
<br/>
Oliver stares at you, then gives a curt nod. "Much obliged." He looks at the others, and they break into guffaws as he slips the ring from Nate's finger. You give Joe a poker-faced look. He returns you a poker-faced look of his own.<br/>
<br/>
Oliver is frowning again, and he twiddles the ring on his finger. "What's that, Grandmother? I can't--" He twiddles some more. "Okay." He turns to the others. "Grandmother says to put that one--" He jerks his chin at you. "--inna't chair."<br/>
<br/>
You try not to show fear as they press you rudely into it. This looks like it for you, but you're not going to show any fear in front of Joe. If Rick and Miko get here too late to save you, you want Joe to be able to tell them that you died as a <i>Stellae</i> should.<br/>
<br/>
You assume they don't scream for mercy.<br/>
<br/>
They cut your cords and strap you in. That done, they stop. Oliver frowns some more. "Are you sure?" he says, then winces and shrugs. "Okay, boys," he says. "Open her up." He nods at the cell. The others stare back blankly for a moment, then shuffle over to let Joe out. Then they step inside the cell and pass Joe the key and the ring. He locks them in, then steps over to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe?" you ask, and now there is a quaver in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't shit yourself, Prescott," he says as he undoes the straps. "You did perfect. That time with Rick's done you good. Speaking of whom--" He taps you on shoulder. "Come on. Him and Miko are upstairs."<br/>
<br/>
You blink, but follow at a trot up the steps. "What the fuck's going on," you ask. "Grandmother's gonna--"<br/>
<br/>
"Viritrilbia and Arbol, Prescott," he sighs. "Light and illusion and ventriloquism. Soon as you told me about the ring I knew what to do. I know how such things work. Witch Hazel's seeing what I want her to see, and that fella heard what I wanted him to hear." You reach the ladder, and he pats you on the ass. "Up you go."<br/>
<br/>
The first thing you see as your head pops out the trapdoor is Rick's hand; he grabs you and pulls you up. You do a double take, for Joe's here too, standing next to Miko. But as you watch, he vanishes. But only briefly, for Rick pulls him out of the basement next.<br/>
<br/>
"How'd you get here so fast, Rick?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"We snuck in after dark," he says. "Been watching from the roof of the bank for the last hour. We can get out through that window there. With the whole town in the square it shouldn't be a problem."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Rosalie?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that the girl who called me Godzilla?" Miko hisses.<br/>
<br/>
"I just told her what to say. We have to get her out."<br/>
<br/>
"She's one of them, Prescott," Joe says in a stony voice. "She's picked her side."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, she picked <i>ours,</i>" you retort. "She's the one that called Rick. And I promised we'd take her with us."<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta stay here and run the projector," Joe says truculently. "You have any idea what that thing down there is supposed to be doing to you?"<br/>
<br/>
You describe it; Joe and Rick don't react, but Miko sucks in a sharp, hissing breath.<br/>
<br/>
"You're the only one that can get her out," Rick says. "We can come back later with reinforcements, and I'd rather do it that way. But it's your call."</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221121221111212122211122111112121211222121
author_id: seuzz
title: Deliverance
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I love you too, Miko," you reply. "I'd hate to see anything happen to you." She turns pink, and it's not with embarrassment.<br/>
<br/>
"How you gonna do it, squirt," Rick asks. "You gotta look you can use?"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "All the ones I've got I've blown. I'm sorry, Rick, but I've cocked this job up totally." But then you get an idea. "Joe, can you make it look like Nate Shabbleman, the constable down there, has woken up?" He nods. "Then I'll use him."<br/>
<br/>
"I think I can play Granny along for twenty minutes," Joe says in warning tone. "That's all."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll hurry," you gulp, and drop back down through the trapdoor, to get Nate's clothes and gear.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Grandmother is still in the bandstand, which is still surrounded by a silent crowd as you hurry through. But she's not paying attention as you draw up. Joe had said that she'd asked for you to come. "You got anything you need me to do, Grandmother?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She's silent for a moment, her eyes staring, and she grins. <i>She must be enjoying the illusion Joe is giving her.</i> When she speaks, it's in a slow, slurred voice. "Get yer cousin. Will," she says. "Let's see what's inside <i>him</i> too."<br/>
<br/>
"Ain't he here?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Get you some deputies."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll check the Big House first," you say, and she doesn't reply.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dammit. Are you going to have to rescue Blackwell as well?</i><br/>
<br/>
You jog off toward the jail and slide into the ancient police cruiser. But you drive over to the phone exchange instead. You'd not seen Rosalie at the park, and hope she's still over there.<br/>
<br/>
She is, slumped at the switchboard. Those beautiful brown eyes are red from weeping. She swallows and looks away when you come in. "Grandmother wants me," she says tonelessly.<br/>
<br/>
"No, <i>we</i> do, Rosalie," you say. "It's me again."<br/>
<br/>
She looks up, and then her eyes fall. "It doesn't matter. We'll never get out, never get away. She'll always be--"<br/>
<br/>
"We won't if we don't try. Come on. You made the call, but we have another stop to make." She is boneless as you take her arm, but you don't have to drag her out to the car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You leave her in the cruiser when you reach the Big House, huddled in the back, while you run in. Blackwell is where you left him, and you're glad he's under Will Shabbleman's face, for it's easier to sling him over your shoulder and carry him downstairs, where you throw him into the passenger-side seat. "Shit," you mutter as you get in, for you can see shadows moving along the street in the dark: people returning to their homes. Grandmother must think she's got things well in hand, thanks to Joe's trickery.<br/>
<br/>
You nose the cruiser into the street, but have to stop when a figure hurries over: Lyle Johnson. He leans in at the window. "Grandmother said you need deputies." <br/>
<br/>
"Not 'nymore. I got 'im here." You nod at Will Shabbleman, and Lyle withdraws. You punch the car up to nearly fifteen miles an hour, and cruise back toward the square. It's the only way out of town.<br/>
<br/>
Rosalie's head appears in the rearview mirror. "What's <i>he</i> doing here?" she whispers urgently, nodding at Shabbleman.<br/>
<br/>
"Gotta save 'im too, Rosalie." You glance back at her. "He's your betrothed, you know."<br/>
<br/>
She's silent a moment. "You're not Nick Martin," she says in a low voice. "He wouldn't know that--"<br/>
<br/>
She grabs at your throat, and your hands jerk on the steering wheel, sending the car lurching from side to side. <i>Hell of a way to discover where her true loyalties now are.</i><br/>
<br/>
You punch the accelerator, and she falls backwards off you. "It really is me, Rosalie," you growl. "I don't just copy faces, okay? I can copy--! I was down in Saratoga Falls with you and Joe. Remember we had that interview, you told us about Cuthbert--"<br/>
<br/>
"Grandmother would have heard everything," she wails. "She's always watching, always spying--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you have any jewelry she gave you, any rings or necklaces or bracelets?" She says nothing. "Take 'em off. Throw 'em out the window. That's how she does it!" You hope she hasn't put anything inside Rosalie, like she put inside Sally. "Do it!"<br/>
<br/>
Rosalie doesn't react right away; then with sudden violence she rolls down the window and snatches something from her neck and hurls it out. She throws away a ring, too.<br/>
<br/>
And then shoes. And her blouse. And the rest of her clothes.<br/>
<br/>
You try to keep your eyes on the road as you drive into the central square.<br/>
<br/>
The town siren goes off, briefly. "Nate's car! The cruiser! Stop them!" Grandmother's voice shrieks over the loudspeakers. Now you do punch the accelerator, and with a squeal the car leaps ahead. You jerk the wheel to the side, sailing over the sidewalk as bodies loom in view, landing on Fifth Street. You gun it again. Fortunately, almost everybody was back inside when Grandmother realized what was happening, and you make it out the square and the few blocks down the street, to where Rick told you to rendezvous.<br/>
<br/>
He's crouching by the rental car in the vacant lot when you jam the car to a stop. "Rick!" you yell at him through the open window. "It's me, I got everyone, but they're all on alert back there, gonna be after us in a minute!"<br/>
<br/>
"Dammit, squirt, I told you no high-speed chases!" The rest of his reply is lost as you hit the accelerator again. The car leaps. Behind you, you see the headlights of his car come on. He's got the better wheels, too, and passes you before you even hit Jape's gas station. As your headlamps flash over it, you see your own rental car in front. It's already half-stripped.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Whether they gave chase or not, you don't know. Pursuit never shows up, and when you're back on the interstate, you pull over when Rick does, and everyone transfers to his car. You make brief introductions around, and Rosalie squeezes into the front seat with Rick and Miko, while the still-sleeping Will Shabbleman is put between you and Joe in the back. Joe and Rosalie exchange no words; the normally talkative Joe just grunts to all inquiries. Rick is taciturn, and so is Miko.<br/>
<br/>
You put your head against the window, and when you're not looking, fall asleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake with a start, to find the car at a stoplight. You look around, and after a few minutes recognize the intersection. You're back in Saratoga Falls. Rick must have driven hard and fast, for it's still dark.<br/>
<br/>
Everyone else is still quiet until you pull up in front of Joe's place. Rick turns around to stare at Shabbleman. "How much longer is he going to be out?"<br/>
<br/>
You do a rough calculation. "He should be waking up any time now." You lean forward to peer at the clock. It's only a little after two in morning. "Yeah, I'm actually surprised--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm awake," Shabbleman says to your surprise. "Just trying to figure out what's going on."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you knock him out again?" Rick asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Not while he's wearing that mask," you say. "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Aubrey Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
No one stirs. Shabbleman himself just shrugs stiffly. "Okay, you and the kid take Gandalf inside," Rick says. "Bed him down however you want, but make sure he stays. The rest of us are gonna find a motel."<br/>
<br/>
Shabbleman doesn't resist as you and Joe take him by the arms and march him into the house. The Shabbleman insolence falls away, and Blackwell's own archness takes over once you have him in the living room. "Am I here to await the pleasure of my false doppelganger?" The words sound very strange coming out of Shabbleman's mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right, fucker," Joe snarls in a weary voice before you can answer him. "Frank'll be along in a day or two, and then--"<br/>
<br/>
Shabbleman lunges for the gun at your hip.<br/>
<br/>
He has it out before you can stop him, but you and Joe grab his arm. There's a hard, intense struggle.<br/>
<br/>
A shot sounds. <br/>
<br/>
Nate doesn't like to keep the safety on.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211212211112121222111221111121212112221211
author_id: seuzz
title: Recoil
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You curse as you feel a shattering, burning blow to your pelvis. The world goes gray. The Moon appears. <i>Imagos</i> swirl before you.<br/>
<br/>
But all the pain has vanished, and you are very calm. <i>Shit,</i> you sigh. <i>Is it really gonna be as easy as that?</i> You remove Nate Shabbleman's <i>imago</i> and pull on Will Prescott's. The world reappears.<br/>
<br/>
You blink in surprise at the pain, and for a panicked moment think you've miscalculated. But it's a pain in your jaw. <i>Fuck, it's like Joe just punched you in the mouth a minute ago.</i><br/>
<br/>
Which, as far as this appearance goes, is just what happened.<br/>
<br/>
Everything else seems to be okay. Joe has the pistol, and is looking at you with a wild expression. Shabbleman is also looking at you, pop-eyed. "So I guess I'm back," you say. "Now will you two settle the fuck down?" You wish there was more authority in your voice; you just sound peevish.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay?" Joe gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine. Except for this busted lip. Nate Shabbleman's probably not going to be okay, but we can worry about that later."<br/>
<br/>
Will Shabbleman's knees buckle, and he falls to the floor. "I'm dead," he says quietly. "It would be a kindness if you--"<br/>
<br/>
"No one's shooting anyone," you snap. "Get rid of the piece, Joe. If the neighbors call the cops--"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop ordering me around, Prescott," he yells.<br/>
<br/>
"Then stop being a dick!" You shift to glare at Shabbleman. "Listen, I don't know what's going to happen to you, but you don't have to worry about Frank. We got that anima thing off him. It's all back to normal."<br/>
<br/>
He looks between you and Joe, and his head sinks. "I am still dead."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe things will look brighter for you in the morning," you say. He flinches as you reach for his face. "I'm just going to put you to sleep again," you tell him. His expression falls, but he suffers to let you take the mask off. His clothes are already ripped and disheveled from the earlier transformation, and he just sinks backward onto the floor. "How long should I knock him out for?" you ask Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" Joe asks. His face is flushed, and his eyes filmy.<br/>
<br/>
"Hal Swann," you reply. "I met him in England and he taught me a few more tricks. I can put him to sleep for as long as we need. Hours, days even. Maybe years."<br/>
<br/>
Joe's cheek twitches. "Fuck. You <i>have</i> been-- Okay, we're gonna have to transport him to Olympia. Knock him out for a week if you can." <br/>
<br/>
You oblige, and then put the mask back on him. "Are you okay, Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you!" Then he takes a deep breath. "I will be okay," he growls. "I'm just exhausted."<br/>
<br/>
"So am I, Joe, now that you mention it. But at least I'm not--"<br/>
<br/>
"Morning, Prescott. Save it for the morning." He suddenly seems to notice the gun in his hand. He empties it of all the bullets, and stalks back into his bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You wait up a bit longer, in case the police do show up, and after an hour go to bed yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake with a start, and fall back with a groan. <i>You're going to be late for school if you don't get a move on. Did you get your homework done?</i><br/>
<br/>
You snort hard, blink the sleep away, and grab at the clock. It's nine-thirty. You wonder what you'll find out in the house.<br/>
<br/>
You kick away Nate Shabbleman's discarded things and pull on some over-large pajamas--Frank's, by the size of them--and shuffle into the dining room. Rick and Joe are at the table, each with a mug of coffee; Rick has a small bottle of bourbon next to his. "Morning, squirt," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You grunt back, and fill a mug of your own before joining them. They are silent as you drop down heavily at the table. "So, who wants to yell at me first," you ask. "Could you wait till I'm awake, though?" You slurp some coffee down.<br/>
<br/>
"No yelling, squirt. That can wait till we're home. Kid's caught me up on what happened here after we dropped you off."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Miko and Rosalie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Back at the motel. They'll spend the day together. They made a connection last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" You're not sure you heard right.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Talk about asshole boys and all that." <br/>
<br/>
Joe winces.<br/>
<br/>
Rick sighs. "I'll yell at you after I hear your report. For now I'll say it's a landing we can all walk away from, which is the minimum."<br/>
<br/>
"I cocked up my assignment here too, Rick. Getting Joe's <i>imago.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Kid already told me about that. You can tell me in your own words later. Right now, I'm gonna go read a magazine in the bathroom. You two can talk." He gets up.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow down some more coffee, and avoid Joe's face. "I'm sorry I got pissy with you last night," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"No, it was my fault," he says, but doesn't look you in the eye. "I'm sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess we were both tired, stressed out."<br/>
<br/>
"We were a good team when we were in the thick of it," he says. "I don't care what Rick's gonna tell us, we were <i>good.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> were good, Joe. You knew how to--"<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't have known to do it if you hadn't been smart enough to tell me. Right in front of them, too. Even after--" He runs his finger around the rim of his mug. "Well, I can't wait to work with you again."<br/>
<br/>
"Will you let me? You know, you tried sending me away--"<br/>
<br/>
"It was for your own safety, Prescott," he snaps, and some of last night's belligerence reappears. "I could've got out of it, you know. I <i>was</i> out of it, when you showed up. I only stayed to rescue <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You had the opposite impression, at least until you found yourself in that chair, but you pretend to see his side. "Thanks. I wish I'd been good enough that I didn't need rescuing--"<br/>
<br/>
"Damn straight!" he yells. "I pulled it off, saved your ass! So when that fat fucker shot you last night--" He catches himself. "Aw, fuck me, Prescott, you don't want to work with me." He leaps to his feet and strides into the kitchen. "Only reason Frank puts up with me is because Dad always puts us together. I hate it when he has to save me. <i>Hate it!</i>" He pushes at the countertop, lifting himself into the air. "I hate it when there's someone else along, acting like my fucking babysitter. But I like having a partner." He does a couple of quasi-pushups before dropping back to the floor. "I like having a straight man."<br/>
<br/>
"I can play lots of parts, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
He smiles mirthlessly. "Sure, treat it like a joke." He folds his arms and stares at the floor. "Well, anyway. I'm sorry for being pissed last night. But it's hard to find <i>Stellae.</i> They're rare. I was really proud that Frank and me found <i>you.</i> And then I found Rosalie. Wow! Made me fit to bust my buttons. So when he shot you last night--"<br/>
<br/>
You can't believe what he's saying. "You thought they were going to take away your medal?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you! That's not what I'm--! I really do like you, Prescott." But he glowers in a way that seems to belie his words.<br/>
<br/>
"You like everyone, Joe. Even Blackwell has his points."<br/>
<br/>
He colors hard, and smashes the countertop with his fist. "Fuck--! Me! But I don't <i>care</i> about him! Throw him in a crocodile pit, let 'em eat and shit him onto the river bottom. I won't miss him. But I responsible for my friends and my colleagues. You understand that, Prescott? Will? Shit, what the fuck am I supposed to call you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I like 'Will'. I'm used to it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I care about you, Will. I helped find you, and I care about you, so now I feel like I'm responsible for you. <i>That's</i> how come it scared me shitless last night when--"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh. Is that what it's about?</i> "You also found Rosalie," you say.<br/>
<br/>
He turns very quiet.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you feel responsible for her? Do you care about her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't sound like you mean it."<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you. It's a carefully composed look, a grave but neutral look, the look of a guy who's going to tell you one thing and one thing only, and leave you to draw conclusions.<br/>
<br/>
"There's a difference, Will. You didn't double-cross me, and you actually saved me back when we first met. And <i>I</i> wasn't the one who went in and saved <i>her.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
That's all that gets said, and you're both still silent when Rick reappears a few minutes later. "You need some lighter reading material, kid. I like to relax when I'm on the pot." Neither you nor Joe respond. "So I made some phone calls. Frank'll be back tomorrow, to take Dr. Bombay and the girl out to Olympia. Miko will ride along with them."<br/>
<br/>
"What'll I do?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Stay here, sort through those books, have some more parties." <br/>
<br/>
Joe makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
"And me?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll fly back to LA this afternoon. You're gonna have to buckle down and do some hard work for Kali. She's been spending a ton on airfare thanks to you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He leaves a little later, to run some errands. You talk a little more with Joe. "There's one more thing," you say after you've talked about the Cuthbert adventure, comparing viewpoints. "I don't know if I should tell you or leave it to Rosalie--"<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me," he says. "I don't think we're going to have much to say to each other."<br/>
<br/>
"When you introduced us, you said you hoped we'd be friends. I'd like it if <i>you two</i> were."<br/>
<br/>
"We will be," he says. "We'll be good friends. Colleagues." There's no stiffness to his tone, but no warmth either.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Will Shabbleman was her 'betrothed'."<br/>
<br/>
"Interesting," he says after a pause. "That explains a lot."<br/>
<br/>
That's all you say on the subject of Rosalie.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112122111121212221112211111212121122212111
author_id: seuzz
title: Decompression
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Rick shows up at around three, to pick you up and drop Rosalie and Miko off. Rosalie seems very calm, and smiles warmly at Joe. He smiles back. But they don't look at each other much. It's weird, for you've never thought of Miko as a "buffer," but you're glad she will be staying with them overnight.<br/>
<br/>
"You packed, squirt?" Rick asks.<br/>
<br/>
And you finally remember, with a groan: "I left my stuff back in Cuthbert."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," he says, and doesn't sound surprised. "That'll be the first thing I'll yell at you about. Don't forget your stuff when you bug out. You also left a rental car, but I've reported it stolen."<br/>
<br/>
"My phone, too."<br/>
<br/>
"Yep. I already knew you'd left it all behind. I put in a call in to Witchiepoo, using your number. Told her that if she wanted to live to see next Christmas, she'd leave the girl alone."<br/>
<br/>
"What did she say?"<br/>
<br/>
"She got the message. Leave it at that."<br/>
<br/>
But you don't. When you're in the car: "Seriously, Rick, is Rosalie going to be okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course she is. She'll stay with the old man in Olympia for a few weeks. Depending on how she does, she might go see Margaret, or jet off somewhere else. We have a couple of retreats. But she's got a good head on her shoulders."<br/>
<br/>
"She had a horrible childhood, Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"I could see that. So could Miko. Lotta <i>Stellae</i> have had it rough. But she's a Glundandran. They got big bottoms, even the skinny ones like her. It takes a lot to knock 'em over. I thought you said Fyodor told you some stories."<br/>
<br/>
"He told me one. Something about Kursk."<br/>
<br/>
"If you can survive the eastern front in the Second World War, you can survive Cuthbert. Don't worry about the girl."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what you're gonna call her, Rick? I'm the squirt, Joe's the kid, and she's the girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll wait till she's back on her feet before I give her a name."<br/>
<br/>
At the airport, Rick hands you a bag and a stack of IDs. "We went shopping for you late this morning," he says. "Well, Miko did. I made you some stuff so you could get on the plane."<br/>
<br/>
"Back to being Nick Martin," you smile. You unzip the shoulder bag and paw through it. "I hope Miko remembered my size." You pull out a t-shirt, and groan when you hold it up to look at the image on the front.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Godzilla.</i><br/>
<br/>
"She'll kill you for sure if you ever lose that one," Rick says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't talk on the plane, or on the drive back to Kali's. She welcomes you with a hug when you step into her apartment. "For heaven's sakes, child, I'm glad to see you," she says, and rubs your back and arms. "I was dreadfully worried. Rick didn't help by <i>not</i> keeping me informed."<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't exactly free to call you with color commentary," he says brusquely, and pushes his way into the kitchen, where takes a big bottle of brown liquid from the cabinet. "You wanna do some meditating before giving us your report, squirt?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did that on the plane," you say. "I'm ready. I'll take some of what you're having, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Kali exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
But Rick smiles wryly. "About time." He pours you a glass. It burns and you shudder a little over the taste. But after it and a second belt, you feel more relaxed.<br/>
<br/>
You describe everything, from the moment you arrived in Saratoga Falls. When you're done, you go back over it a second time, carefully, so Rick can comment. "Should I have confessed everything to Joe?" you ask. "After I saw what was going on with him and Rosalie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Rick says bluntly. "You're in a tricky spot with us. You're good at winnowing out secrets, better even than the kid. You act like a spy and an informer, and people will treat you like one."<br/>
<br/>
"I flunked my assignment by telling him."<br/>
<br/>
"Some things are more important than my exercises."<br/>
<br/>
"And I told you, I'm not doing that kind of exercise for you again, Rick, not against other <i>Stellae.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Good. I was wondering when you were going push back. I'm glad it was now and not later." <br/>
<br/>
Your mouth falls open a little. "You <i>wanted</i> me to push back, to refuse to do that kind of copying?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, not necessarily. But you're learning a lot more about yourself, and we're learning a lot more about you, than just whether you can sneak in and out of someone's bedroom."<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you quiet for a bit. <i>It's like learning about killing, back in London,</i> you finally decide. You're not just learning things; you are learning what you need to learn.<br/>
<br/>
You continue the analysis. Rick doesn't stop your second recital until you hit the point where you decided to disguise yourself as Sally. "You had to leave your phone behind when you did that," he says. "An operative who's out of contact is useless."<br/>
<br/>
"She was invisible to people in town. I figured I wouldn't need--"<br/>
<br/>
"Always keep a line open, especially on these early jobs. You <i>will</i> need back up. And she turned out to be wired. You couldn't have known that, but she was. As soon as they tumbled to you, put you in that bedroom, you should have shimmied out and split. Got into another house, got another disguise. Now go on."<br/>
<br/>
You stop yourself when you get back to the killing of the man in the church basement. "I should have tried to stop that, shouldn't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Collateral damage, probably couldn't have been helped, once you decided to play passive. Sucks for that DEA agent, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Was that what he was?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably. I eyeballed what was left of him. They all got that kind of look on them."<br/>
<br/>
"What <i>was</i> that machine down there?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to know. I put a monkey wrench in it, though. I doubt they'll be using it again."<br/>
<br/>
"What are we going to do about the rest of the town? About Grandmother?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's for Charles to decide."<br/>
<br/>
"We should burn it down," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe," Rick says. "But it's a big hornets' nest. Sometimes its better to leave those be. Know where they are and what they're doing instead of scattering them to where you don't know."<br/>
<br/>
He lets you continue until you finish. He mulls it over a bit. You speak first. "So, it all went wrong when I picked Sally as my disguise."<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says. "It went wrong when you let those drug agents through. You should've used them to get into town."<br/>
<br/>
"But there were two of them, Rick. And I'd have got caught just like they did."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't matter if there were two. Dump one at the gas station, drive in alone. And Jape's head woulda got you through any troubles in town, at least until you coulda switched into one of the townsfolk. That's the big takeaway I'd point out to you. Look at <i>everything</i> as an opportunity, and weigh it."<br/>
<br/>
Silence envelops the room. It takes more courage than you'd needed inside Cuthbert to ask the next question: "So, overall, how did I do, Rick?"<br/>
<br/>
"This wasn't for a grade, squirt. But you did alright. Made some big mistakes, but kept your head and made some good plays to recover. Practice, so you'll be able to make the good plays all the way so you don't <i>need</i> to recover."<br/>
<br/>
You nearly bust with happiness, but keep calm. "So what's my next assignment?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dinner, meditation, and bed."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Rick doesn't show up the next morning, and when you get up you find that Kali has left you a ton of homework. You grimace over it, but after breakfast and a shower, you settle down to it. It's a terrible anticlimax after the last week of excitement. But it sets the pattern for the next few days: Intense schoolwork in the mornings and afternoons, and meditation and dream journals with Kali during the evening. <br/>
<br/>
It leaves her as vexed as you it leaves you restless. "This second <i>ousiarch</i> of yours," she mutters after leafing through your most recent dream entry. "Nothing makes sense to me. "The bells you say you were trying to ring clearly point toward Lurga. But you have them hanging from the eaves of a forest, which points toward Perelandra."<br/>
<br/>
"And I kept trying to hit them with a big club. That'd be Malacandra, wouldn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, the big stick is just your seventeen-year-old hormones kicking in."<br/>
<br/>
You redden. "Maybe I should try going to bed in some other <i>imago.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
She pauses over the suggestion. "That's not a bad idea." <br/>
<br/>
But the next evening, before you can report to her on what Nick Martin dreamed, Rick walks in. "Just heard from the old man," he says. "Frank, Miko and the girl got in. Nice Christmas present for him."<br/>
<br/>
You rear back, for with all the excitement, and the return to balmy California weather, you'd missed it: the day after tomorrow is Christmas.<br/>
<br/>
"You two going up there for the holiday," he asks as he drops onto the sofa beside you.<br/>
<br/>
Kali must have read your expression. "This will be your first Christmas away from home, Will?" she softly asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say. <i>Whoa.</i><br/>
<br/>
"The old man throws a nice shindig up in Olympia," Rick says. "I usually skip, but there'll be more than a few folks up there. He likes his parties."<br/>
<br/>
But you're not listening. <i>There is a fake version of you in Saratoga Falls. And because of the accident to your face, you won't be able to step in and take its place when you want.<br/>
<br/>
Sweet baby Jesus, you'll probably never have Christmas with your family again.</i> "Pretty good chance of that, yeah," Rick agrees when you say so aloud. <br/>
<br/>
Kali glares at him in exasperation. "Is that <i>all</i> the sympathy you can extend?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't do sympathy. But I gotta job for the squirt he might like, take him back to town. A high school kid named Jonathan Straussler needs to reappear."</span></div></div>


author_id: seuzz
title: Christmas Spirits
path:
1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221121221111212122211122111112121211222121112

chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>That's not the way you want to see Saratoga Falls, and Rick shrugs when you say so. "I think I'd like to visit Olympia for Christmas, though. I should meet Charles, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Rick says. He pulls out some money. "Here's an advance on something I owe you. Buy something nice for 'em all."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know who they are or what they like," you say, totally missing Rick's "something I owe you."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't go wrong with liquor," he says. "Liquor for the men, chocolate for the girls."<br/>
<br/>
"And Father Ed?" Kali asks acidly.<br/>
<br/>
"He's a Jesuit, not a hermaphrodite."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll drop you off at a sex shop, squirt, you can buy a ball-gag for him."<br/>
<br/>
"Rick!" Kali glares at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Get him a rubber chicken. He'll hate anything you give him, but he'll love squawking over <i>that.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You give Kali a pained glance. "I've heard him speak highly of the Three Stooges," she says. "If you see anything themed to <i>them</i>--"<br/>
<br/>
"And the usual drill," Rick says. "In and out without being spotted, then back in to leave the cash."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why, can't I trust you to shoplift without me being there?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You complete the expedition without incident, but when you get back there's news: Charles doesn't want you for Christmas, but he does want you to move to Olympia when Rick and Kali are prepared to relinquish you. "I'm flying to Olympia in the morning," Kali says. "You'll be spending Christmas with Rick." You feel your face fall. "I'll assume you're thinking how much you'll miss my company," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"Does Rick do Christmas?"<br/>
<br/>
"In his own way."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You got family, Rick?" Your voice is slurred, and the fingers around your shot glass are numb. <i>How can he put so much away without showing it?</i><br/>
<br/>
A soft honky-tonk tune plays in the bar, and sad and worn decorations adorn the mirrors behind the bar. Shabby men in shabby clothes huddle at the bar or in the booths. Rick looks shabbier even than them. You glance in the mirror: Nick Martin is the nicest-looking fella in the place. You fumble a toast at him. "Well," you ask again. "You got family?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't crawl outta the primordial ooze, squirt, whatever Miko says," Rick mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, wha' izzat all about with her, Rick?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, we'll talk about the old cop," he growls. He tosses back a shot and gestures for another, for him and for you. <br/>
<br/>
"Old cop? Whozzat? Your dad? Why do you call him--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because he was a cop."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Was he good?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. Only got decorated twice."<br/>
<br/>
"Soun's good to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Good for what he was. A detective that made his quota."<br/>
<br/>
"Whazzat mean?"<br/>
<br/>
He glares over at you. "Thought you was studyin' for the business, Martin."<br/>
<br/>
"I am. Was. Well, summon who looks like me was." You shrug, and toss back the shot.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe it was before your time. Long ago in a city far, far away. You made cases. That's all they cared about. Making cases, to show they were doing their job."<br/>
<br/>
You blink stupidly, and grasp at an inference that you're sure wasn't intended. "You mean didn' matter if they's guilty?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. He made his quota, and drank himself into an early grave."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, jeez. I'm sorry, Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be. He's happier that way, or he wouldna done it."<br/>
<br/>
You hunch against the bar. Liquor has made you tactless as well as brave. "I know why <i>you</i> drink, Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure you do." He stares down into his glass. "Saw my first one on Christmas morning when I was ten," he says quietly. "Never been a Christmas person since."<br/>
<br/>
"Firs' what?"<br/>
<br/>
"First <i>thing.</i>" He sniffs at his drink. "So excited. It was a big box, biggest under the tree. I only had three of them, presents. Insisted on saving that one for last. Opened it up and--" He looks away. "One of them wriggled out, grabbing at me. I screamed." He drinks. "The old cop slapped me, 'cos he thought I was screaming at his gift."<br/>
<br/>
"Wha' wuzzit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Erector set. Big box was a blind, a little joke, foolin' with me. Old cop thought I was ungrateful, didn't believe me when I told 'im what I actually saw."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit. Tha's a helluva thing to happen on Chrizzmas, Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Didn't help a few years later, when I figured out what it was all about. There'd been a killing in a department store. Blood all over the toy aisle. I know now he lifted that set as 'evidence', and passed it on to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus, Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. He was a good man. 'S why he killed himself. I never got to tell him what a good man I thought he was. Another round over here!" he calls to the bartender. "Spirits, squirt," he says, and lifts his glass. "The spirits of Christmases past. May they <i>stay</i> there."<br/>
<br/>
You clink glasses.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>The first Tuesday after New Years:</i> "For heaven's sake, child, don't slouch," Kali says. She straightens your shoulders and raises your chin. "Head up. You've never looked so much like a bag of loose bones."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe because I don't usually travel looking like this." You tug at the knot around your neck and shrug inside the tight suit jacket.<br/>
<br/>
"I remember when people dressed up to travel," Kali snaps. "Instead of like they'd just stumbled awake with a hangover."<br/>
<br/>
"How old <i>are</i> you, Kali?" Rick asks from the sofa.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll thank you not to ask personal questions, Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"Then don't drop veiled remarks about <i>my</i> travel dress."<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't making a veiled remark about your travel dress. I was explicitly referencing the way you <i>always</i> dress."<br/>
<br/>
"And I wasn't talking about this suit," you whine, and scratch under a pit. "I'm talking about my <i>face.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a nice face, Will," Kali says, and fixes you with a bright but penetrating smile. "It's yours."<br/>
<br/>
"They're <i>all</i> mine. You've said so yourself. This isn't <i>my</i> real face any more than-- Why won't you let me wear my Nick Martin face? That's the one I put on when--"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you're going to meet Charles," she says. "It's only respectful to meet the head of our Order under your own face. Well, the face you were born with. Other people brought your other faces into the world. You brought this one."<br/>
<br/>
"No I didn't. The <i>Libra</i> put it on me, and fucked it up, too."<br/>
<br/>
"It's <i>yours,</i> child. The <i>Libra</i>-- Well, it set it on you backwards." She straightens the lines on your suit, and plucks at invisible dust motes. <br/>
<br/>
"I guess I should just be glad it didn't put my butt where my face is," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll drink to that," Rick says, and takes another deep slug from his tumbler.<br/>
<br/>
Kali steps back. "Well, I can't stop you from slouching between here and Olympia," she says as she eyes you critically. "But keep your head up when you meet Charles." You must have shown some emotion, for she gasps slightly. "Good heavens, child, you're not <i>afraid</i> of him, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shouldn't I be? He's the head of the <i>Stellae.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"He's got Glundandra <i>and</i> Arbol for <i>ousiarchs</i>, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"So <i>shouldn't</i> I be scared?"<br/>
<br/>
"Good heavens no, child! There's no reason to fear him."<br/>
<br/>
"Why, is he like bears? He's more scared of me than I am of him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be insolent."<br/>
<br/>
But Rick laughs. "No, tell him that when you meet him. He'll get a kick out of it." He ignores the look Kali has shot at him, and stands with a sigh. "Okay, I think I'm liquored up enough to face the LA traffic. Come on, let's-- Oh, for the love of-- Don't be looking like <i>that</i> when you meet him!" Rick's lip curls in disgust.<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" you whine.<br/>
<br/>
"Like you're gonna piss yourself. It's enough you pissed yourself the first time you met me, squirt. Don't do it with him."<br/>
<br/>
You turn with a sigh, but freeze when the penny drops. You turn back with a dirty look. "Is that how come you always call me 'squirt'? Because I pissed myself when you tried fileting me with that knife?"<br/>
<br/>
Rick's eyes widen, and his mouth tightens. "Out of the monkey suit, squirt. Now!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's gotten into <i>you</i>?" Kali exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"You only <i>now</i> figured out where I got your nickname?" Rick jabs a finger in your face. "I want another month of field work before sending you on to the old man. I got a case now you can help me with. Sharpen your skills until you can make the <i>obvious</i> deductions."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Two more months of exercises follow. There are no more jobs for the <i>Stellae,</i> but Rick has you help him on one of his normal investigations. Frank and Joe stop in for an overnight stay, during which you have a nice talk, and they let you copy their <i>imago.</i> Both are flattered by your request, for their own reasons: Frank likes that you want a "fighting form"; Joe preens at being one of your "bedroom faces."<br/>
<br/>
And then, finally, you do make it onto an airplane. </span></div></div>


author_id: seuzz
title: Shadows of the Past
path:
11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211212211112121222111221111121212112221211122

chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's as a poised and athletic young woman that you stride through London Heathrow, tugging your travel case behind you. You sense lots of eyes on you. No surprise: a girl with big tits, strong legs, and a trim ass would get them anyway. You've also got long, pale-blonde hair and a strawberries-and-cream complexion. But you've also the taut, watchful expression of a jungle cat, and no one hassles you.<br/>
<br/>
Frank meets you out front, and you embrace, rubbing each other and renewing acquaintance with each other's bodies. "How was Chapel Hill," he asks as you get in the car.<br/>
<br/>
"Muggy. Muggy and green. Or were you asking about Joe and Rosalie and Charlene?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was asking about whatever you want to talk about."<br/>
<br/>
"In that case, I missed you." You rub his thigh. "That's why I came back early."<br/>
<br/>
He smiles. "Don't get used to it. I set up an appointment for tomorrow after you called," he says. "Percy Quillington's group."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah. Back on the bear."<br/>
<br/>
He looks over. "I thought you said it was a successful mission."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it was. But, well, shadow of the past and all that."<br/>
<br/>
"For who? You or Rosalie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Both. She didn't show it, of course, but I could tell. She talked about how she wanted a big family, how she missed having lots of family around."<br/>
<br/>
"Joe will be happy to oblige," Frank says. "And they'll never run out of names, not as long as they can keep naming them after <i>you.</i>" <br/>
<br/>
You punch him, but fall silent for a bit, and watch the traffic as Frank guides the car away from the airport. "Do you want kids," you ask him quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Again, he gives you a sidelong glance. "That shadow you mentioned. Was it Cuthbert or Chapel Hill? Or Saratoga Falls?"<br/>
<br/>
"I knew I shouldn't have asked," you mutter. "I knew you'd take it the wrong way."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't assume I <i>am</i> taking it the wrong way," he retorts. "Or at least tell me plainly what you mean. We're partners, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're supposed to be <i>married,</i> Frank," you retort. "But are we a family? Even without kids?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a moot point. We can't have any. We're not going adopt, either. If anything happened to us--"<br/>
<br/>
"If anything happened to us, Joe and Rosalie would take our kids in."<br/>
<br/>
"It still wouldn't work."<br/>
<br/>
"But don't you want a family? Something more than a partnership?"<br/>
<br/>
He takes your hand. "I never had family, so I don't miss them. I don't remember anything before the orphanage. I had Dad and Joe, of course. I guess Laverne was a kind of surrogate mom." He looks over at you. "I'm happy with what we've got. Are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes." You squeeze his hand. But you still notice he didn't answer your question: <i>Does he want more than a partnership under the cover of a marriage?</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You unpack and settle in, and tell him about the trip, concentrating more on Joe and Rosalie and little Charlene than on the unpleasantness in Cuthbert. You realize that you'd changed the subject to children in the car because it's actually less nettlesome than the subject of that terrible town. <br/>
<br/>
But it still preys on you, and as evening encroaches, and Frank goes out into the garden to meditate, you pull out the hymnal that Alaknanda had retrieved from the church. You fix yourself a light meal and bend over it as you eat.<br/>
<br/>
She'd found it on the old, dusty organ, and she'd brought it back out, for it had "emanations." You'd shown it to Joe when you'd returned to Chapel Hill to give your report, but he'd only grunted over it, saying that the strange, handwritten musical lines will be meaningless without seeing the organ and the infernal machinery it's connected to.<br/>
<br/>
But now, looking at it more closely, you're not so sure. Joe often shares his expertise with you, in that peculiar way you have of "sharing", by letting you copy portions of his mental <i>imago.</i> He's right that the melodies and harmonies are "musical garbage", but there is more to them. The patterns they create are mesmerizing, and your skin begins to prickle as you feel a kind of harmonic resonance within you.<br/>
<br/>
It's coming from the unreadable sigil, the one so dense that you can't even read it to see how to unlock it. Nash and Joe and Kali have studied its equivalent in the <i>Libra</i>, and it has left them baffled as well. <br/>
<br/>
Now, it is singing to you, from within you. You feel your eyes watering as they track along the hideous hymn lines, and the world gradually goes out of focus--<br/>
<br/>
Sulva flashes before you.<br/>
<br/>
You blink hard, and find yourself back in the dining room. You look around, and feel yourself all over, inside and out. All seems unchanged.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly, you resume eating.<br/>
<br/>
And then you sense a presence behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Slowly, you turn around.<br/>
<br/>
It's in the dark hallway behind, invisible. You stand and close the book. The thing in the dark retreats as you advance.<br/>
<br/>
You follow it back into Margaret's parlor, where it stops. You murmur a special phrase, and the light of Sulva falls on it. You suck in a short breath.<br/>
<br/>
It's you. One of your <i>imago.</i> Not just any <i>imago,</i> either, but the un-aged, seventeen-year-old face of Will Prescott. It stares back at you with a haggard, terrified look.<br/>
<br/>
You regard it. Has something rattled loose from you? Is it a phantasm? If so, is it one cast by yourself, or by another?<br/>
<br/>
You open the door to the wardrobe, exposing the mirror it contains, and advance on the apparition. It retreats, circling the room. As you pass the vanity, you pick up the mirror that Margaret had made for you. If the thing is part of you, then it should be easy to catch within your personal mirror. And if it isn't--<br/>
<br/>
Computer users aren't the only people who have to worry about "Trojan infiltrators." You think carefully for a very long time before deciding.<br/>
<br/>
To your surprise, you feel yourself shifting back your original form. You leave it be, though, and raise the mirror to your chest. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You lower the mirror and blink. The apparition has vanished. Except it hasn't. You feel it settle and dissolve into you, and you briefly sense its startled surprise. <i>Your</i> startled surprise, for you've entirely absorbed it and everything it was, including its sense of self. <br/>
<br/>
And it <i>was</i> you. A version of you. You shudder as you remember the hard faces of the golems as they'd stared down at you.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you're well out of that. But there's nothing you can do about it, and you're sure it's not the sort of thing anyone you know can do anything about. Of course, you can't help feeling a terrible pity for the poor bastards caught up in that business, but its meaning--if it has one--lies elsewhere now.<br/>
<br/>
You close the wardrobe and drop the mirror onto the desk and march briskly through the kitchen to the back door. The rumble of nighttime traffic becomes louder as you step into the garden and stride over to the figure stretched out on the grass. You kick him lightly in the hip. "Don't just lay there and tell me you didn't feel anything, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
He sits up sharply. "Why, what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing. Just worlds colliding. Didn't you feel it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't feel anything. What makes you-- Why did you change?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I'd like to know." You frown. "I'll have to meditate on it. Shit. Are you up or going back down? Come to bed. I didn't fly back early so I could spend a fuckless night in a cold bed."<br/>
<br/>
He grunts. "If you have to meditate anyway, Marta--" He looks you up and down, and grunts again. "If you have to meditate, <i>Will,</i> you might as well--"<br/>
<br/>
You drop onto him, slipping back into your "Marta" form as you do so, and straddle him. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and kiss him hungrily. "I just got a bad shock, Frank," you murmur when you release his mouth. "I can meditate in the morning--" You kiss him again, and he kisses you back. "It'll keep till then. But I need--" You dart back in, and now there's a taste of blood on your tongue. Or is it on his tongue and you're licking it off his? "And I need something hard and firm to get a grip on. That's what you give me, right?" You hug him tightly and rub your face against his; the bristles on his cheek scratch and bite at yours. "Something to nail me in place?"<br/>
<br/>
He wraps you in his arms and gets to his feet, lifting himself and you as easily as nothing. You wrap your legs about his hips and hang on tightly as he takes you inside and throws you onto the bed. There's a brief tearing of clothes, and then he's atop you and inside you: a great shaft of iron. You don't scream as you cum, because it's not passion you feel shuddering through you, but safety and security and firmness of being.<br/>
<br/>
Once is enough, and when you roll over at three in the morning to find he's returned to the garden you just go back to sleep. That's the way it is with Frank, and you're entirely content with what he gives you. For he gives you everything you need.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what <i>was</i> that about last night?" he asks the next morning as you sit down to breakfast. "You weren't just looking for a good fuck, I could tell."<br/>
<br/>
You slop some of your kale smoothie into a glass and avoid his eye. You're far from sure what it was about, and you doubt it has anything to do with him. And telling him about it might freak him out. Frank often worries about the future; he doesn't need to worry about a past that never happened.<br/>
<br/>
To tell him about it: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/141111" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1942914">A Past That Never Was</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/141111" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122
author_id: imaj
title: In Which The Author Reveals Their Insecurities
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Be careful child,” says Kali gravely.<br/>
<br/>
You gulp nervously at Kali’s warning.  It’s hard enough to work out regular girls, let alone fickle Japanese warrior women that keep on threatening to cut you open, and Miko has been nothing but fickle since you first met her.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you volunteered to talk to her.  Kali smiles encouragingly as you uncurl your feet and stand up.  “If I don’t come back out, tell my parents that,” you being, trying to bolster your courage with a witty one-liner, or a least a one-liner of some sort.  You tail off as you remember that there is a fake Will filling in for you back home – no one but Joe knows you are gone.  “I better come back out,” you finish quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Kali’s smile widens a fraction.  “Relax Will,” she says.  “The worst that can happen is Miko will give you another tongue lashing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” reply convincingly, reluctantly dragging yourself towards Miko’s bedroom.  No, the worst she can do is that she can take that sword of hers and cut you down like a stalk of grass – and not one of those oversized ones from the story either.<br/>
<br/>
You knock gently at the door to Miko’s room and wait.  There is no response, so you open the door gently and walk in as softly as you are able.<br/>
<br/>
It’s dark, and Miko is only recognisable as a huddled shape on the bed.  Surprisingly, she’s making quiet, muffled, snuffling noises.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you ok,” you ask, genuinely concerned.<br/>
<br/>
Miko rolls over on the bed.  It’s impossible to tell for sure, but you guess that she’s facing you.  “Why don’t you tell me,” she asks acidly.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you reply quickly, waving your hands frantically.  “I mean if I was really rooting around inside your memories I’d be making a better job of this…  Uh…  That sounded better inside my head,” you garble.<br/>
<br/>
Miko sits up on the bed.  “You are hard to dislike Will Prescott,” she says stiffly.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s good, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” she replies sourly.  “It means you are a shapeless Sulva chameleon who will say anything to get people to like him.  <i>Her</i>,” she spits.<br/>
<br/>
You open and shut your mouth wordlessly, like a fish stuck out of water, unable to think of anything  “I’m sorry,” you eventually manage.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry,” parrots Miko, capturing your whine perfectly again.  “If I had my way I’d cut that thing out of you,” she snarls.<br/>
<br/>
“This is about your father,” you say, not quite sure where the words come from.  “The fox that killed him was disguised as you.  When you see me like this, it reminds you of that.”<br/>
<br/>
Silences falls over Miko’s room for a few brief moments.  You are briefly aware that you aren’t even breathing, so still are you standing.  Then Miko breaks the spell with a low growl.  “Get out.”<br/>
<br/>
“I…” you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
“Out,” shouts Miko, starting to rise from the bed.  You hurriedly step back outside her bedroom, slamming the door behind you.<br/>
<br/>
“That went well,” you mutter as you sit back down opposite Kali.  She gives you a long, slow look that seems to go straight through you.  “She threw me out,” you explain.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?”  Kali arches an eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
 You look guiltily at the floor and curl up comfortably in the chair “I might have said that I reminded her of her father being killed,” you say quietly.  “Like in the story you wrote.”<br/>
<br/>
Kali’s eyebrows shoot up further still.  “That was… perhaps unwise,” she says.  “Yet at the same time.”  She pauses for a few second.  “You and Miko have become quite tangled child, drawn into conflict even.  I would expect as much from Miko, but you?  Is it another link to Catilindria, or Sulva reflecting Catilindria.?”  You realise that she is talking more to herself than you now and lose track of the meaning of her words.  You wait patiently for Kali to address you again.  “Perhaps you said the exactly <i>right </i>thing to Miko child,” continues Kali, looking directly at you again.  “To force her to confront her past, how it is obstructing her duty as your mentor now.  To do it in such a Catilindria-like way though.  Fascinating.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is there an exactly right thing to say to you as well,” you ask absentmindedly.<br/>
<br/>
Kali blinks a couple of times and clasps her hand to the chest in a seemingly involuntary reaction.  “Gracious child, what a question to ask.”  For a moment it seems like her self assurance and poise has been shaken, but you dismiss the idea as your imagination.  Kali seems as composed as ever.  “Perhaps I should ask you a question first.”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is she changing the subject</i>, you wonder.  “Sure.”<br/>
<br/>
“What did you think of <i>Miko’s  Chronicle</i>, did you like it,” she asks, but she does not give time to answer and instead continues.  “I sometimes fear that I do not have the words to put together a story, even though I can understand stories as I take them apart.”  She sighs and you sense that it would be better not to interrupt her.  “When I was a girl I would draw pictures.  Sometimes of my parents, sometimes of the tenement that I lived in and sometimes of other things in the town I grew up in, like the abbey there.  Always I would draw the sky as a narrow strip of blue at the top of the paper and the ground as a green strip at the bottom.  You could look at the picture and recognise it for what it was, but no artist would draw or paint like that.  My stories are the same I think.”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you say, standing up.  “No, it was good, I liked it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you,” says Kali with a faint half smile.  “It does me good to hear that.  You don’t think that I was too heavy handed in foreshadowing the number eight in the piece,” she asks.  You aren’t quite sure what she means, so you make an ambiguous gesture that could be easily interpreted as a yes or a no.  It seems to satisfy Kali.  “I was worried that in having Charles being the only character who’s words are rendered into Japanese I was perhaps trying to be a little too clever,” she adds.  “Or that I accurately described the martial act that Miko and her father practiced…” <br/>
<br/>
“It was really good,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“I am too self conscious about it,” she admits.<br/>
<br/>
“You worry too much,” you reply.  You reach over and give Kali’s hands a gentle, friendly squeeze.  “Ow, what was that,” you say, pulling your hands away and shaking them.<br/>
<br/>
“A static shock child,” replies Kali, her assurance flooding back.  “I think you need to be a little more careful with the furnishings in the apartment.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, right, sorry,” you say sheepishly.  “Perhaps I should go to bed, it’s getting late.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course,” replies Kali.  “Remember to record any dreams that you have in the journal I gave you.”<br/>
<br/>
You nod and retreat to your bedroom.  After such a long day, your bed is very inviting and you fall into a deep slumber almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222
author_id: imaj
title: Ye Cannae Fling Yer Pieces...
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You dream vividly of your first day at elementary school.<br/>
<br/>
Only your mother called it primary school and she’s holding your hand tightly <i>right now</i> to stop any more attempts at running away.  You look at where your hand meets hers as she half drags you along the pavement, not giving the slightest second thought to the contrast between your mother’s pale, almost white, skin and your own caramel hued tones.<br/>
<br/>
High cast iron railings line the edges of the playground, lending it the appearance of a prison from your low viewpoint.  Children run and laugh and play in front of an imposing red sandstone building.  You catch the fragments of singing drifting out over the fence:  “The odds against it reaching earth are ninety nine tae wan.”  Don’t they realise they’re trapped in there?  Impulsively you hug your mothers skirts and look up at her.<br/>
<br/>
Your mother is the best mother in the whole world, but you’re thinking if she’s going to abandon you here, she’s maybe only number two or three.  She smiles back down at you though and you feel your own mouth turn up a little at the sides in response.<br/>
<br/>
“Come oan,” she says, letting go of your hand and ushering.  “It’s no’ that bad.”<br/>
<br/>
You take a few faltering steps through the gate before turning back round, your feet tensed and ready to run back.  Your mother kneels on the ground, her head now at the same height as your own, and waves.  It gives you just a little more confidence and you wave back before walking into the playground.<br/>
<br/>
The playground is thronged with groups of other children.  Some are talking, some playing, some running about.  Many of them loom over you and you pick your way nervously through the crowd.  To your shock, a boy your own age stumbles out in front of you from a group of older children, falling to the ground.  He rapidly picks himself up and your eyes drift down to the uniform grey shorts that stop just above his grazed and scraped knees.  “It wisnae me,” he shouts at the world in general before running off, straight through another group.<br/>
<br/>
One of the larger boys turns round and looks down his nose at you with a sneer.  “Why don’t youse lot go back to where youse came from,” he growls.  You don’t understand what he means and you spin round desperately looking for your mother.  You are lost in a sea of other children and you can not see her.<br/>
<br/>
You set of in another direction, pushing past a group of older girls who mutter as you go, searching for a quieter corner of the playground.  As you turn a corner of the building, you find yourself in a much more sparsely populated area.  You sit on a step in front of closed door and put your head in your hands.  Tears are welling up behind your eyes and you feel ready to burst.<br/>
<br/>
Then you look up as a shadow falls over you.  Another girl, about your own age stands in front of you.  She’s playing listlessly with a stick, her ginger hair tied into two messy pigtails.  “Oh hiya,” she says, suddenly noticing you and dropping the stick to the ground.  “I’m Morag,” she adds, thrusting out a sticky looking hand at you.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m Kaliope,” you reply, ringing out the syllables of your name in a sing song voice.  You shake Morag’s hand, which is as sticky as it looks.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s a pretty name,” replies Morag, only now wiping her hand on her skirt.<br/>
<br/>
In the distance you can hear some of the children in the playground break out into song again:  “Oh, ye cannae fling yer pieces oot a twenty story flat…”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
And then you wake up, the memories of the dream rapidly fading away.<br/>
<br/>
A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s late morning, and that Kali and Miko must have left for work by now.  As it is too light in your bedroom to get back to sleep now, you climb out of the bed and head to the bathroom.  You turn the tap, let the water run for a few seconds and splash a little on your face.  Then you blink a couple of times and lazily focus on the mirror in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh no, not again,” you mutter to yourself.  <br/>
<br/>
The voice sounds a little different robbed of the last traces of its accent, but it undeniably matches the face you see, that of Kali Valentine.  You sigh calmly, which in itself surprises you.  Perhaps you’ve somehow picked up a little of Kali’s own unflappable demeanour.  You roughly brush the a few strands of silvery grey hair behind your ears and set out into the apartment.<br/>
<br/>
The apartment is empty of course, but you find a handwritten note taped to the counter in the kitchen.  The handwriting is small and neat, Kali’s own hand.  You wonder if you could try and replicate that now before dismissing the thought.  Kali’s memories remain elusive and you can barely recall the dream of her childhood.<br/>
<br/>
The note is short.  “I thought it better to let you sleep in this morning Will,” it reads.  “We will be back for dinner.  Help yourself to what you need and remember to do your meditation exercises.”  You place the note back on the counter and glide back to the living room, where you look longingly at the door to Kali’s own bedroom.  She did say anything you need, and what you need are some clothes that fit.<br/>
<br/>
You open the door to Kali’s bedroom with some trepidation, expecting to somehow be struck down for your trespass.  It’s just an ordinary bedroom though, in the same minimalist stylishness as the rest of her apartment.  You walk around the bed, running one of your now coffee coloured hands over the covers.  It rests for a moment on the chest at the foot of the bed and on some unknown impulse you open it.  The chest is full of sheets and bedding, so you close it disinterested.<br/>
<br/>
You find a large walk in closet with mirrored sliding doors built into one wall of the room, giving you a chance to look at your new face.  Kali is as striking as when you first met her, the strange combination of patches of near white hair at her temples despite that thirty-something appearance fascinating.  From the half remembered dream, you are now starting to think that Kali is perhaps older than she looks.<br/>
<br/>
You walk inside the closet, feeling the clothes as you pass them, and feeling just a little bit guilty as you do.  That thought hurries you a little and you select an ankle length purple skirt and simple white blouse, along with a matching purple headscarf to tie your hair.  It’s only when you take the ensemble out the closet that you realise that it’s what Kali wore to meet you at the airport when you arrived<br/>
<br/>
The guilt at invading Kali’s privacy still nagging at you, you quickly dress.  It’s surprising how naturally it comes, or how comfortable the clothes feel on you.  Then you leave Kali’s room, carefully closing the door behind you, for you have a lot to do today.  Recording what you remember of your dream from last night should be your first order of business.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You are half dozing in one of the sofas when the front door to the apartment opens.  Miko enters, glancing at you once and then twice when she notices the change in you.  Her face splits into a wide grin.<br/>
<br/>
“Not funny,” you mutter sourly.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh but it is,” she replies before turning back to the door.  “Kali,” she shouts.  “There’s someone here you should really meet.”  Miko bursts into laughter as you sulk.<br/>
<br/>
“Who is it Miko,” says Kali patiently as she enters.  Her gaze falls upon you and her hand immediately shoot up to her chest.  Sheepishly, you realize you’ve mirrored her gesture.  “Oh my,” she says.<br/>
<br/>
“I woke up like this this morning,” you say.  “I borrowed some clothes, that’s ok, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Kali looks momentarily conflicted, but then she smiles warmly.  “Of course it’s ok child, but heavens child… Why didn’t you phone me?”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Why didn’t you phone her?</i>  “I uh…” you stutter.<br/>
<br/>
“We need to fix this,” continues Kali.  “I shudder to think who you will end up as next.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well of course we need to fix it <i>now</i>,” mutters Miko darkly.  “It’s different now he’s parading around with <i>your </i>face.”<br/>
<br/>
“Miko,” exclaims Kali with evident shock.  “We would be doing the same however I had found Will this evening.”  Miko indicates her disbelief in that statement by rolling her eyes and stomping away to her room.  Kali, however, ignores her and addresses you instead.  “I have been thinking about your problem, and I do have a few things I would like to try, if you will agree to it.”<br/>
<br/>
Try?  That sounds worrying.  Kali seems so assured and confident but that word <i>try </i>leaves you with nagging doubts that she is making it up as she goes along.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221
author_id: imaj
title: Reflections on the Libra
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I think I’m ready,” you say a little while after dinner as you set yourself down in the seat opposite Kali and Miko.<br/>
<br/>
Miko barely glances up from the book she’s reading, but Kali smiles and sets her hands in her lap.  “Good,” she replies, standing up.  “I have a few ideas of what we can do but first we need information.”  She walks calmly over to some shelves and lifts a notebook.  “I don’t need to examine the <i>Libra </i>though,” she says quietly, half to herself as she returns to her seat.  “Not with you here, anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko makes a tsking sound and mutters something darkly in Japanese, her eyes remaining fixed on her book.<br/>
<br/>
“Will,” continues Kali, addressing you directly now.  “It would help me if I understood the structure of the book in more detail.  If you could describe it…”<br/>
<br/>
“I haven’t seen it for a while,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“Hmm, yes,” admits Kali.  “But I think you’ll be able to remember it in detail.  Start at the beginning, with the cover and the frontispiece.”<br/>
<br/>
<i>What the hell is a frontispiece</i>, you think.  “There isn’t one,” you find yourself saying without thinking.  “The inside cover is blank, to start with.  A sigil appears once you buy the book.  You have to cut your thumb and press it to the sigil.”  You stop for a moment, your mouth hanging open.  How did you know what she meant?<br/>
<br/>
Kali just looks at you with a faint little smile that looks almost smug, like she’s just confirmed a suspicion.  “And the cover.”<br/>
<br/>
“Red leather,” you describe.  “Gold lettering.  Eastman colours.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh that was the school you were attending, wasn’t it,” asks Kali.  It must have been a rhetorical question because she doesn’t give you a chance to answer.  “The title page?”<br/>
<br/>
“I…  I can’t remember very well.”<br/>
<br/>
“You can child,” she replies, quietly but insistently.  “Try visualising the book.”<br/>
<br/>
You take a breath and centre yourself, just as you would for your meditation and the book blazes into vision in your minds eye.  The image of the book flips open and the title page resolves itself into crystal clarity.  “There was a row of faces, three of them, but they’d change and shift in front of you.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko mutters something in Japanese again.  Your face flushes.  “No I didn’t,” you tell her.  “I thought it was an optical illusion.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko growls and sets her book down.  “Stop that,” she scowls at you and stalks off to her room.<br/>
<br/>
Kali raises an eyebrow.  It takes a few minutes for you to realise what happened.  “That was Japanese again wasn’t it,” you ask.  Kali nods a silent affirmative.  “She just said something about not noticing that the book was bad news when the faces shifted.  I didn’t even notice that she’d said it Japanese.”<br/>
<br/>
“Interesting that Miko’s memories still seem to be within you even though you have… ah… <i>changed</i>,” replies Kali, tapping her pen thoughtfully against her teeth.  “But continue.”<br/>
<br/>
“On the other side of the title page was a blank piece of paper. Except it wasn't blank the night I fell into the book. It was covered with a silvery writing."<br/>
<br/>
"Was the moon out?" Kali asks sharply.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember. Maybe?  It was pretty light inside the workroom.”  A bloody thumbprint appears on the image of the book in your mind on the frontispiece sigil and the title page flips over.  The silvery writing does not appear on the reverse of the image-page.  “Oh, I could only turn that page once I’d done the blood and thumb thing.”<br/>
<br/>
Kali jots down a couple of words into her notebook but makes no sound.<br/>
<br/>
"Each page was locked," you explain. "I had to do something before I could turn the page, whatever the spells were. But they don’t explain what they do. That’s on the reverse side of each page."<br/>
<br/>
Miko emerges from her room, her expression stony.  She returns to the seat and collects her book before turning away again.<br/>
<br/>
“I guessed it was like a test:  did I have the guts to do the spell without knowing what they did.  That sort of thing.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko pauses halfway to her room.  “And again I ask,” she says, this time in English.  “Did you not find the book suspicious?”<br/>
<br/>
“The follies of youth,” replies Kali before you have a chance to say anything.  “You were young once too.”<br/>
<br/>
“I was never like that,” mutters Miko.  “I knew well enough to leave alone.  Boys…”  She continues back to her room.<br/>
<br/>
“Is she going to…” you begin, but Kali holds up a single finger and you fall silent.  “Uh…  The book?”  Kali nods and you continue.  “There were some warnings:  ‘be careful’, ‘don’t use the book with a light heart’, like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“And then the first spell,” says Kali gravely.  Miko emerges from her room again and heads for the kitchen.  “Describe it for me.”<br/>
<br/>
“It makes a mask,” you explain.  “If you put it on someone it copies them.  Actually you have to polish it first.  Takes forever,” you groan.<br/>
<br/>
“And was there a sigil there,” asks Kali,  “describe it for me too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure,” you reply.  You describe the sigil that appeared on the page with the first spell, gesturing with your hands to help indicate its shape as Kali draws on the notebook.<br/>
<br/>
“Can you stop there child,” interrupts Kali.  “My pen has run dry.”  You wait patiently while Kali fetches a new pen.  You recommence your description once she settles back into the chair.  Kali bids you to stop again after a few moment.  “This one too,” she frowns.  Kali experimentally tries the pen on the notebook again before looking at you thoughtfully.  She hands the pen and book to you.  “Perhaps you could draw it for me,” she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You accept the notebook and sketch out the sigil, drawing its looping, curling form with ease.  “Here you go,” you say handing the book back.<br/>
<br/>
Miko strides out the kitchen and grabs the notebook from a shocked looking Kali.  Miko takes one look at your sketch and rips it from the book before ripping the sigil into tiny little pieces which scatter across the floor.  “What,” she asks as you and Kali both stare mutely at her.  “Oh come on.  <i>You </i>can’t draw the sigil but <i>he </i>can.  And that <i>doesn’t </i>set alarm bells off everywhere?  What if he can make the other sigils from that book?  You’re as naïve as he is,” says Miko addressing Kali.<br/>
<br/>
“I think perhaps,” replies Kali stiffly.  “You should retire to your room.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think perhaps,” says Miko, echoing Kali’s intonation.  “That we should cut that book out of him before he brings us both down with him.”<br/>
<br/>
“I am trying,” says Kali with uncharacteristic testiness.  “To do my job.”<br/>
<br/>
“As am I,” growls Miko, her voice rising.  Miko bristles with anger, the emotion practically radiating off her.  The tension in the air is almost electric and you are too scared to so much as move a muscle, lest you set everything off.<br/>
<br/>
Then suddenly it evaporates.  “I’m sorry Miko,” says Kali mildly.  “We will just proceed with descriptions for the remainder of the evening.  I’m sure Will has no intention of drawing any of the other sigils, much less using them.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko relaxes a little.  “I think I’ll sit here for a while,” she replies, settling back onto the sofa.<br/>
<br/>
“Very well,” replies Kali evenly.  “Now Will, if you can <i>describe </i>the second spell in the book for us.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Later that night you're feeling restless, and thinking of Joe and Frank, and that causes you to remember those composition books. You wonder if there's one about them. It might be fun to read.<br/>
<br/>
Softly you pad down the hall to Kali's office. Before you knock, though, you hear her Miko’s voice.  Apparently she is talking on the phone.<br/>
<br/>
“No, I’m not happy about it,” you hear Miko saying.  “He’s got that damn thing inside him and…”  She pauses for a minute.  “Coming here?  Great,” she says sourly.  “No, you know how I feel about him.  Well at least it’s another pair of eyes to keep on the <i>oni</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
You recognise that word, even without the help of Miko’s memories.  You’re almost tempted to burst in and confront her about her attitude towards you.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, <i>that sword</i>.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211
author_id: imaj
title: Happy Families
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It isn’t bravery that makes you burst through the door, but rather weariness.  You’re tired of Miko’s constant insinuations about your trustworthiness.  You don’t care if she strikes you down with her sword now, because at least you wouldn’t have to put up with it any more.<br/>
<br/>
Miko is looking out the window into the night, the phone handset in one hand.  “I’m not a demon,” you shout angrily at her.  She turns round to look at you, evidently surprised.  She keeps the handset at her ear though.  “I’m not a monster and I’m definitely not some fucking evil wizard that needs slain by the heroes.  I didn’t want any of this to happen and I definitely didn’t mean to fall inside that book and end up back to front.”  You pause to take a breath whilst Miko continues to stare at you with what might be shock, but could just as easily be amusement.  “I’m just kid,” you add quietly.  “Sometimes I wish everything could go back to the way it was before because, yeah, all this magic stuff is cool but I could do without the endless offers to cut me open.”  You look Miko directly in the eyes defiantly.  “If you’re going to use that sword on me, do it now and get it over with.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko stares at you for a few seconds.  Then she bursts out laughing.  “I don’t think you are a warlock Will Prescott,” she says.  “No warlock could possibly be quite as whiny or pathetic, but you are dangerous,” she adds more seriously.  “You’re naïve and you don’t know what you’re dealing with.  You are like a child in charge of a firework factory.”  She stabs a finger at you.  “So I’m just trying to keep <i>you </i>safe.  And me.  And Kali.”  She pauses to listen to the phone.  “Charles wants to speak to you,” she adds, handing the phone to you.  <br/>
<br/>
Miko pushes past you but pauses briefly before exiting.  “Oh and Will,” she says.  You turn round to look at her, seeing that Miko has turned back to face you as well.  She’s grinning like a shark.  “I like you Will, you’re a decent boy.  You’re just out of your depth.”  And with that she spins around and walks out, leaving your mouth gaping open.  Why does she keep fucking with your head?<br/>
<br/>
“Will,” comes a voice from the phone.  You’d forgotten about it for a moment there.  “Will, are you there son?”<br/>
<br/>
You put the handset nervously to your ear.  “Um…  Hello?”<br/>
<br/>
“Good to speak to you again son, though I guess that should be ‘girl’ now,” says the voice on the end of the phone.  Again?  You’ve never heard this guy's voice before, though it seems warm and friendly enough.  You pause for a second.  “You ok there?”<br/>
<br/>
You make a slightly strangled sound.  “I uh…” you stall.  Might as well admit it, you realise.  “Do I know you,” you ask, hoping not to sound like too much of an idiot.<br/>
<br/>
The voice on the other end chuckles.  “I guess the last time we met was a little unconventional.  It’s Charles Brennan.”<br/>
<br/>
It takes a few moments for the name to jog your memory.  “Uh…  Hello… uh, sir,”<br/>
<br/>
Charles laughs again.  “I overheard you talking to Miko.  I know things are difficult for you right now, but <i>both </i>Kali and Miko are there for you.  Miko told me you read the story Kali wrote about her.  We’ve all had troubled entries into the Stellae, but in time you’ll come to see us as your family.”<br/>
<br/>
“Even Miko,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“Even Miko,” replies Charles with another earthy laugh.  “It was good speaking with you Will.  Maybe next time we’ll talk I’ll get the chance to talk to Will Prescott rather than Kali Valentine too.”  You find yourself laughing along with Charles this time.  Then it’s time to exchange your goodbyes and get to your bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
To your surprise, Kali is sitting primly on the sofa in the living room when you emerge from your bedroom the following morning.  “I’ve asked Miko to cover for me at work today,” she says anticipating your question.  “Come sit,” she adds gesturing at the table opposite her.<br/>
<br/>
You settle into the seat and momentarily struck at how odd the scene must look.  On one side, immaculately turned out, poised and confident is Kali Valentine.  On the other side, her twin, still dishevelled from bed, all awkward and messy looking.<br/>
<br/>
Kali seems to notice as well, because she doesn’t quite bring herself to look at you, instead gazing at the notebook from last night.  “I reviewed the notes we made last night,” she says.  “And I think I see a pattern.”<br/>
<br/>
“A pattern,” you ask nervously.<br/>
<br/>
“Indeed child.  Your progression matches that of the book.  First you acquired Miko’s <i>imago</i>, the image of her.  It could have been at any time since you met her.  Miko’s Catilindria <i>ousiarch </i>makes her something of a catalytic agent.”  Kali permits herself a small smile.  “You might say she gets everywhere.  Of course, like the second spell from the <i>Libra </i>you had to be sealed, and that happened when Miko kissed you.”<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes bulge.  “She told you about that?”<br/>
<br/>
“We are colleagues child,” replies Kali.  “We do talk about your education from time to time.  Reading about Miko’s past seemed to move you to the third spell from the book as you described it to me:  You picked up some of Miko’s memories, admittedly haphazardly.  That brings us to the fourth spell.”<br/>
<br/>
“Which joins everything together,”  you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“Which joins everything together,” echoes Kali.  “When you took my <i>imago </i>two nights ago you took my memories as well.  Didn’t you notice?”<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
“Look at how you are sitting,” adds Kali.  You notice that you’ve raised one hand and pressed it to your chest, just below the collarbone, with the palm open.  It’s a gesture you’ve seen Kali make on occasion.  “So you have picked up some of my mannerisms as well.”<br/>
<br/>
“But it’s not like I’m wearing a mask,” you interrupt.  “That was the first thing I tried when I woke up looking like Miko.  I tried to pull off a mask, but there wasn’t one.”<br/>
<br/>
"That’s right, you aren’t wearing a mask," she says. You make a face. "Which is in itself a clue as to your condition. The fact is, I suspect, that you are the mask, child, and you cannot remove yourself."<br/>
<br/>
“What does that mean,” you whine.<br/>
<br/>
Kali looks at the notebook again, seemingly reluctant to meet your gaze.  “I’ll have a better idea once we get you back to normal,” she mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
“You can do that?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think I can help you,” she replies, her voice finding more strength again.  “We’ll begin with some meditation.”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111
author_id: imaj
title: Familiar Faces
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You settle onto the floor and close your eyes.  The image of the Moon appears almost instantly, but it is faint just as the real Moon itself can appear faintly in the daytime sky.  You focus and the image of the moon solidifies into something more tangible feeling.<br/>
<br/>
“You see the moon,” asks Kali.  You don’t respond, but somehow she senses that you do.  “Good, now think of the first sigil from the <i>Libra</i>.”  After a few moments she adds:  “It is within you and you <i>know </i>it child, relax and let it come.”<br/>
<br/>
The image of the moon wavers, as though it's a reflection in a pool that has been disturbed. The sigil forms and comes into focus, branding itself across the moon in a way that somehow manages to both scar it and yet look as if it was meant to be there.  “Think of the second,” says Kali a little more insistently.  “And the third, the fourth.  Bring them together.  The disparate sigils bind together as one, their ring perfectly encompassing the lunar disc, whose shadows and features resolve into the merged sigil's own elements. "Cup your hands before you, child," Kali says. "Hold the vision in your palms."<br/>
<br/>
You oblige. Your hands seem to grow heavy, and something warm settles into them. "Very good, Will," Kali says. "Now think of me.  Not the me sitting in front of you but the one inside yourself<br/>
<br/>
You sigh and try to relax further. There are two of Kali nearby, you realise, and one of them is close, very close.  You feel her presence enveloping you, coddling you like a mother would an infant.  And then her face appears within the sigil. It is the moon, and the sigil, and Kali's face, all bound together, like a cloud that can take on different appearances without changing.<br/>
<br/>
"You are doing very well, Will," Kali says softly. "You can open your eyes."   <br/>
<br/>
The vision is still before you, but it is floating in the palms of your cupped hands. Again, it wavers for a moment, but you find yourself able to focus it. "Do you see it," you ask Kali.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course, child. Anyone could see it. Well done." You glance up, to see her eyes glinting with pride. "This is your first great step. I remember when Frank first raised the mailed glove of Malacandra, exactly where you are now sitting. Hold, don't lose your concentration," she cautions as the image wavers again. "Good.  Now send the image away.  Push it from you.”<br/>
<br/>
You strain against the image.  It is like an unyielding wall, yet still you push, harder and harder until you feel something starting to give…<br/>
<br/>
The wall breaks and crumbles, releasing what feels like a flood.  The image of Kali seems to shoot into the distance, winking out as it passes into the infinite.<br/>
<br/>
You collapse on the floor, surrounded by darkness.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You are swimming in darkness, an endless and featureless void.  It is impossible to tell if you are making progress or just marking time.  You look around, flip over and look behind you, screaming wordlessly, anything just to tell if you are alive or not.<br/>
<br/>
And then the moon hovers into, like a beacon guiding you home.  You blink your eyes open and realise you are staring into Kali’s face, which is etched with an honest concern.  “You’re back with us child,” she says with relief.  “In more ways than one.”  You feel her hand in yours and she pulls you to your feet.  “Your hair is a mess,”<br/>
<br/>
“My hair…” you mutter and run your hand through it.  It feels coarse and short, not like what you’ve grown accustomed to at all.  It takes a few seconds to realise, but it is because it is actually your own hair.  You bring your hand down and stare at it.  It’s the same pasty colour it was before this all kicked off, not the caramel colouring of Kali.<br/>
<br/>
“Shall I fetch a mirror,” asks Kali, but you are already running to the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
You regard your face in the mirror with a curious mixture of elation and disappointment.  It’s good to be back to normal again, but at the same time, it’s that odd, mirror flipped face that you’ve had since passing through the book.  A small voice inside you adds that Miko and Kali were simply more interesting people to be than boring old Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
“I was kinda hoping to go back to normal,” you say to Kali when you re-enter the living room and sit down on one of the sofas.  “I mean not flipped back to front like I am now,” you explain when she looks puzzled.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” she says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“What,” you ask, a sense of alarm rising within you.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry Will,” she says with a sad little smile.  “But the truth of it is that you are still a golem.”<br/>
<br/>
The explanation is long and technical, and if you are being honest, some of the finer points of it confuse you.  It takes a little while but you eventually grasps the basics of it, though you sense that you were wearing Kali’s patience a little thin.  It comes down to that you don’t have a ‘natural’ form anymore, and that the flipped face you saw in the mirror is just another captured image.  Just like you’ve captured images of Miko and Kali.<br/>
<br/>
Then Kali drops her second bombshell.<br/>
<br/>
“So you didn’t change <i>back</i>,” she explains.  “You simply switched between being me and being you.  From one imago to another”<br/>
<br/>
“But I just wanted to stop being you,” you reply.  “How did I end up like this if it’s just another image?”<br/>
<br/>
"Sulva brought you back,” explains Kali.  “Did you see him before you woke?"<br/>
<br/>
You remember the vision of the moon in the darkness, and nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. He is your ousiarch, and as long as you bind yourself tightly to him, he can catch you if you go seriously askew with your powers. It can be a close-run thing, though, and you mustn't rely thoughtlessly on him. You should have had your own <i>imago </i>at the ready for the switch."<br/>
<br/>
“Why didn’t you tell me,” you whine.<br/>
<br/>
“I… didn’t realise,” stammers Kali.  It’s almost frightening, seeing her stripped of her natural confidence.  “I was working on a hypothesis and it nearly blew up in our faces.”<br/>
<br/>
My faces, you think with just a touch of bitterness.  That makes you feel a little guilty though, because whatever else, Kali has helped you understand yourself a little more.  It is then that you look down at yourself and realise something.  “Maybe I should change out of your clothes.”<br/>
<br/>
Kali manages a smile and relaxes a little.  “That you should child.”<br/>
<br/>
Back in your room, you take a moment to check just how ridiculous you look in Kali’s clothes.  They hang awkwardly on your skinny frame.  Of course, you didn’t look exactly right in them even when you had Kali’s face.<br/>
<br/>
A thought surfaces in your mind.<br/>
<br/>
If the face in the mirror is just an image that you can summon, then couldn’t you summon one of the others just as easily?  You settle into your meditation position and try to summon the sigil and face again.<br/>
<br/>
You reach out with your mind for Kali’s image again.  It feels tenuous and distant, slippery and hard to grab hold of, but you persevere.  It feels like you sit there for an age, but in reality, only a few minutes can have passed.<br/>
<br/>
You open your eyes again.  In the mirror you see Kali Valentine again, her hair matted and a thick film of sweat on her brow.  You grin at the change and she grins back.<br/>
<br/>
Then you close your eyes once more and reach for the mirror-Will, sending Kali back into the distance.  This time the change is easier, like slipping into a well worn groove.  You open your eyes and only you remain, grinning like an idiot.<br/>
<br/>
You should tell Kali about this, really you should, but at the same time you are still annoyed about just how close she brought you to disaster a few minutes ago.  There’s no rush to tell her.  Maybe you could wait a few more days, practice a little more and really impress her once you’ve mastered the technique.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221112
author_id: imaj
title: The Lunatic and The Shark
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There's no need to let Kali know right away.  With a little time and practice you can perfect it, make a switch without exhausting yourself.  If you can show her then, just flipping between her and Miko and yourself, that would be <i>awesome</i>.<br/>
<br/>
First things first though, you look like a mess.  You strip out of Kali's clothes and head for the shower in a bathrobe.  It's a strange experience stepping into the stream of hot water, because you've grown accustomed to bodies of Miko and Kali respectively.  You never quite got round to exploring them in the shower.  In Miko's case, that was because you were scared what she'd do if she found.  For Kali, it just seemed, well, <i>wrong </i>somehow.<br/>
<br/>
Now you're back in your own, albeit mirrored, form it just seems plain dull and boring.  The prospect of a quick massage down there to relieve your tension might once have appealed, but doesn't so much any more.  So you quickly wash yourself, vigorously towel yourself dry and head back for the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
Kali is in the living room, looking through a handbag, when you emerge from the bedroom the next morning.  "Oh," she says looking up as you enter.  "I"m just going out for a few minutes to run an errand," she explains.  "I'll be back soon."  She grabs her coat from where it is lying on the sofa.<br/>
<br/>
"Cool," you reply.  "What do you want me to do with your clothes?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's a basket in my bedroom," she replies, slipping the coat on.  "Put them in there and I'll wash them later."<br/>
<br/>
She's gone by the time you pick up her clothes from your bedroom, so you just head on into her one and find the basket she mentioned.  It's sitting in one corner.  You roll the borrowed clothes into a rough ball and drop them in, before heading back out.<br/>
<br/>
The chest at the bottom of her bed gives you pause again.<br/>
<br/>
You stop in your tracks to look at it, run your hands along it.  You can't think why it seems so interesting.  When you open it and look inside it still contains only bedding.  On impulse you dig your hands into the pile of sheets, pushing them underneath the top layer and down.  You see another layer of sheets below the first, and catch a glimpse of a third layer below that.  Still, you dig your hands deeper and feel more sheets underneath that.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing but sheets and bedding.  It doesn't surprise you when you get a static shock from rubbing all that fabric.  You pull your hands clear, tidy up the top layer and close the chest.  Shaking your head wryly, you leave Kali's bedroom, still unsure as to what possessed you to do that.<br/>
<br/>
Something is out of place when you walk back into the living room and it takes a few seconds to spot it -- the front door to Kali's apartment is open.  You are about to call out her name when you catch some movement out of the corner of your eye.<br/>
<br/>
A man walks out the kitchen holding a glass.<br/>
<br/>
That doesn't quite describe him adequately.  You've seen homeless bums that looked better than this guy.  It's impossible to judge his age accurately, so dishevelled does he look, like someone who's lived his life hard and had the consequences etched across his face.  His hair is long, lank and greying in patches, perhaps prematurely.  The unshaved fuzz of several days of growth look similarly splotchy.  The clothes look like they've come from a charity shop, all faded and decades out of style.  He licks his chapped lips anxiously and stares at the glass in his hand.<br/>
<br/>
You let an involuntary gasp and the man looks up, his eyes narrowing.  He scans the room carefully, sniffing the air experimentally.  You stand rooted to the spot as his eyes sweep towards, unable to move at all.<br/>
<br/>
For a second his eyes bore right through you, then his gaze moves on.<br/>
<br/>
He didn't see you?  Kali said you could render yourself, if not invisible then inconspicuous.  Did you somehow do that without trying to?  Perhaps if you could sneak to Kali's office and use the phone there--<br/>
<br/>
The man finishes looking round the room.  He walks quietly, impossibly quietly -- barely making a noise, over to the small table by the sofas and places the glass down on it.  The man reaches inside his decrepit sports jacket and pulls out a knife.  You stare at it and gulp, it's very definitely a knife in a "that's not a knife" sort of way.  This is the knife that makes other knives feel inadequate.  Your bowels loosen.<br/>
<br/>
The man holds the knife horizontally at chest level, the blade facing outwards and starts looking round the room again.  He smiles wildly, exposing a set of crooked and yellowing teeth.  Again he sniffs experimentally at the room.  "Fishy," he snarls,  "Oh little fishy."<br/>
<br/>
Great, it's not just a strange man in the apartment.  It's a <i>madman</i>.<br/>
<br/>
You stand motionless as the madman starts stalking round the apartment, your muscles quite unwilling to respond to your brain"s commands.  He moves with a feral grace, checking the room thoroughly.  Under the table, around the sofas, he moves carefully and quietly.  Quietly, except for the maddening stream of nonsense he mutters under his breath.<br/>
<br/>
He reaches the point where he's standing directly in front of you.  The stench, a mix of stale sweat and just a hint of cheap booze, is overpowering and you try desperately to stop yourself from gagging.  He's looking straight at you now, except he's looking straight through you, like he can't quite register your presence.<br/>
<br/>
The madman looks to the side, as if he's preparing to move on and you breathe a sigh of relief.  His eyes snap back round towards you and you watch with horror as his eyes focus on you.  "Miko," he asks in a puzzled sounding voice.<br/>
<br/>
You don't have time to think how he knows the name of one of your teachers.  "What," you reply, sounding just as confused.  The words come out in Miko's voice.  A quick glance at your hands confirms you've somehow changed back to her without even thinking about it.<br/>
<br/>
The madman jumps back like a cat.  "I don't know who you are sister," he says, twirling his knife menacingly.  "But Miko Toyotomi you ain't."  His eyes flicker from side to side, like he's gauging you, looking for an opening.<br/>
<br/>
You force yourself to relax, to let your body hang loose.  When the man pounces at you, his knife flashing as he comes, you let instinct guide you into a ducking roll that easily skips past him.  It wasn't even your own instinct:  You can almost sense Miko's feel for combat, just on the edge of your grasp.  You pick yourself up off the floor and look at the madman.<br/>
<br/>
He's staring at you again, his mouth open in surprise.  He doesn't pause for long though, as he starts weighing up his knife and grinning evilly.  The little bit of Miko's know-how inside you recognises his intention immediately and you are already on the floor when the knife comes flying out of his hand and sails harmlessly over you.  The knife strikes the large tribal mask mounted on the wall, burying itself in the mask and causing it to fall from its mountings.  <br/>
<br/>
That in turn frees the mask of Joe you used to travel to L.A..  It clatters to the floor and rolls along before finally settling underneath the little table between the sofas.  You glance at it and an idea forms in your head:  Putting on a mask knocks people out.  If you could put the mask on the intruder you could keep him still long enough to call for help.<br/>
<br/>
You scrabble to your knees and start crawling across the floor.  You've almost reached the mask when something heavy falls on top of you.  It's the madman " he grabs you and you both roll over in a tangle of limbs.  Miko's a capable fighter, but this rough and tumble brawling isn't in her repertoire.  The man punches you in the gut, then again.  Your grip on him weakens and he clambers atop you, placing two strong hands at your neck.<br/>
<br/>
You reach for the mask as he starts to squeeze.  It's too far, tragically just inches out of reach.  A last desperate gambit is all that remains.  You summon the first sigil of the <i>Libra </i>to your hand.  Miko's colouring leaches from your skin as you slip back to your flipped face.<br/>
<br/>
The sudden change causes the madman to loosen his grip for a moment.  "Showing your true face at the end huh," he grins.  "Can't say I blame you for hiding it."<br/>
<br/>
The momentary distraction is enough.  You bring the sigil to bear, pressing it against the side of his head.  The madman has just enough time to look surprised before toppling over unconscious.  You haul yourself to your feet and dust yourself off.<br/>
<br/>
Just then Kali walks back in the apartment.  She looks at you, then at the slumbering intruder on the floor and then back at you.  "What the hell is going on here," she asks, the use of a curse word catching you completely by surprise.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122
author_id: imaj
title: In the Court of the Kraken
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I said I was sorry,” you mutter under your breath, unable look directly at the presumed intruder sitting on the sofa opposite.<br/>
<br/>
Kali sets a tray down on the small table between the sofas.  She lifts an expensive looking bottle of scotch and places it in front of her guest.  Then she makes a bit of a show of placing a jug of water next to it.  The man you thought of as the intruder doesn’t notice, or pretends not to notice.  “You’re a sweetheart Kali,” he replies, winking at your mentor.  She looks pained for a brief moment, but sits down next to the man.<br/>
<br/>
His name is Rick Bredon and he’s another member of the <i>Stellae</i>.  Not, in fact a crazy man trying to kill you.  Well, he was trying to kill you, but he isn’t crazy.  It was a <i>misunderstanding</i>.  Which you have apologised for.  Three times now.<br/>
<br/>
“You got lucky squirt,” grins Rick, exposing those yellowing teeth again.  “It was a long drive.  I’m just as dry as the desert I drove through.”  You look to Kali for a clue as to Rick’s meaning but she offer none.  “If I’d been drin…” he pauses a second and glances at Kali.  “If I’d been on top of my game you’d be dead by now, and we’d be down another acolyte.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick opens the bottle and sniffs at the neck before sighing contentedly.  “Water of life, this stuff,” he mutters under his breath.  “Neat trick you got there though.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will seems to have absorbed some of the spells of the <i>Libra Personae</i>,” explains Kali smoothly as Rick pours a generous measure from the bottle.  “And is capable of reproducing their effects.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, a neat trick,” replies Rick.  “Care for a measure,” he asks you, indicating the bottle.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s seventeen years old,” interrupts Kali sternly.<br/>
<br/>
Rick shrugs.  “A man’s old enough to die, he’s old enough to drink,” he offers by way of explanation.  “Besides, squirt’s just survived his first run in with someone above his power grade.  Deserves a little celebration.”<br/>
<br/>
You think better of correcting him by describing how you freed Frank of Blackwell’s influence.  “If it’s all the same with you sir, I’d rather not.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick snorts, or perhaps it’s some kind of weird half laugh.  “Don’t need to call me ‘sir’ squirt, just ‘Rick’.”   He sniffs at the glass one last time before downing the contents in one go.  Kali winces.  “Yeah, yeah, I know.  This stuffs wasted on me,” he tells her, inspecting the now empty glass.<br/>
<br/>
“Actually,” replies Kali primly.  “I was going to ask just how did Will manage to get the better of you.  You were out cold when I arrived.”  You glance from Rick to Kali and back, trying to follow what’s going on here.<br/>
<br/>
“Like I said, the squirt got lucky.” He replies surreptitiously winking at you.  “I had him down for the count but he managed to land some kind of knockout grasp on me.  Musta been from the <i>Libra</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“That is impressive Will,” replies Kali with a faint smile.  “Well done, but in the future you should probably avoid attacking your tutors.  It is not perhaps the most effective way to open a relationship with them child.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, the squirt done good,” interrupts Rick before knocking back another shot.  “Scuttlebutt says you’re another Sulva,” he adds, addressing you directly.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah I’m… what do you mean <i>another</i>,” you ask.  “Everyone keeps telling me that I’m the first Sulva to join in over a century.”<br/>
<br/>
“There’s only ten planets squirt,” says Rick.  “We gotta share, ‘specially since we all get two.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will is a Sulva” interrupts Kali quickly.  “I’m still working on identifying his second <i>ousiarch</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll bet you are,” replies Rick, pouring another drink.<br/>
<br/>
Something about Rick’s manner puzzles you, and it’s not the way he keeps calling you ‘squirt’.  “Are you a Sulva,” you ask him directly.<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, Malacandra and Eldibria.  What did Kali tell you about Sulva?”<br/>
<br/>
“Only that they are very difficult to find,” interrupts Kali again.  There’s something puzzling in the way she’s talking to Rick too, now that you think about it.<br/>
<br/>
“Difficult to find doesn’t mean unique squirt.  You take a look in the archives, you’ll see we’ve come across most of the Sulva combinations over the years.”  He empties his glass again and sighs.  You’re about to ask him what he means by the combinations when he goes ahead and answers for you.  “It’s the combination of <i>ousiarchs </i>that makes you what you are squirt.  You… uh… get influences, yeah influences from both.  Kali can explain it better than me though.”<br/>
<br/>
“And I will later,” she explains.<br/>
<br/>
“So if you have Sulva and Malacandra, that makes for a good assassin,” explains Rick ignoring Kali.  “Hell, that’s half of where the word assassin comes from.  Sulva and Glundandra, that’s a rare one, doubly so I guess.  I heard John describe that one as being the cuckoo king once.”  You don’t ask who John is and Rick seems to have no desire to explain.  He refills his glass before  continuing.  “Can pretty much take charge anywhere he said.  Now, Sulva and Perelandra…”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course, members with Rick’s <i>ousiarchs </i>have in the past been referred to as krakens,” interrupts Kali smoothly.  “Mythological sea monsters,” she explains, anticipating your next question.  “Rick is dangerous where water is concerned.”<br/>
<br/>
“Very dangerous,” smiles Rick.  He hold up his empty glass and stares at it.  “I think I should slow down a bit,” he states, his words teetering on the edge of being slurred.<br/>
<br/>
“Quite possibly,” agrees Kali with a smile.  She stands up and brushes her skirt with her hands.  “I should fetch Miko.  We will need to discuss the next phase of your education child.”  Rick pours himself another drink and stares at it morosely whilst Kali fetches her coat.  “I shall return in a little while,” she states before closing the door behind her.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221
author_id: imaj
title: Rick's Rules
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I…” you begin, but Ricks bids you to be silent with a simple hand gesture.<br/>
<br/>
He sits quietly for a few minutes before speaking.  “Funny how she didn’t want to talk about Sulvae,” grins Rick, his manner considerably sharper than it was before Kali left.<br/>
<br/>
“What,” you ask in confusion.  “I thought you were drunk.”<br/>
<br/>
“Rick’s rule number seventeen squirt,” he explains.  “Always act a little dumber than you really are.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wait a minute,” you interrupt as he sips at his drink.  “I thought you were friends.”<br/>
<br/>
“Colleagues,” replies Rick.  “And in the <i>Stellae </i>it always pays to keep an eye on your colleagues.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s…  paranoid,” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
“Paranoid isn’t what I am squirt,”  says Rick with a wild grin.  “What I am is <i>alive</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s one way of looking at it,” you mutter sourly.  “Is that what you didn’t mention my turning into Miko when you broke in.”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t break in, I have a key.  But, yeah.  Does Kali know you can do that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sort of,” you shrug.<br/>
<br/>
Rick laughs out loud.  “Now who doesn’t trust his colleagues.  Explain.”<br/>
<br/>
You blush deeply.  “I mean that I sort of turned into Miko, and then Kali, but Kali helped me get back to looking like this,” you explain, gesturing at yourself.  “She doesn’t know I can go back and forth between faces now.”  You pause for a moment,  “I was going to tell her,” you say hotly.  “I just wanted to get good at it first.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course you were squirt,” grins Rick unpleasantly.  “Let’s see it again.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Lets see it again,” repeats Rick, this time more insistently.  “Show me what you can do.”<br/>
<br/>
“I need to meditate to do it on purpose,” you explain, settling onto the floor.  Rick frowns at that comment, but you close your eyes and concentrate.  The <i>imagos </i>waver into your consciousness, and to your surprise, there’s a new addition.  It’s Rick, of course, you picked up his face when you knocked him out earlier.  You think it would be a great joke to show him his own face, maybe get him back for the way he keeps calling you ‘squirt’.  You pull the image towards you, submerging into it, letting it settle on and around you, straining at the effort of it.<br/>
<br/>
You open your eyes and grin at Rick.  “What do think <i>squirt</i>,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“I think that face suits you squirt, makes you look handsome,” he replies, grinning himself.  “Maybe I’ll let you keep it.  Would be quite funny to see when Miko gets back,” he adds cryptically.  “Actually, try Miko again for me.”<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes again, reaching this time for Miko’s <i>imago</i>.  It’s easier to call to you than Rick’s was, perhaps because you’ve used it before.  You hold it tight, letting it cut close to you.  “Like this,” you say sternly when you open your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Ha, you almost sound like her,” says Rick as takes another sip at his drink.  “You’re a little rough round the edges squirt,” he adds more seriously.  “It takes you too long to switch.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” you say quietly, a little deflated.<br/>
<br/>
“Chin up,” replies Rick.  “All that means is you need a little practice.  Ok, a lot of practice, but why’d you think Kali called me out here.”  Rick takes another sip from his drink and looks at you with a crooked grin.  “Did you ever, you know, play about with the goods while you were stuck like that?”<br/>
<br/>
You almost choke at that suggestion.  “Are you kidding,” you reply.  “She’d have <i>killed </i>me if she found out.”  Rick erupts in a gale of laughter.  “She keeps on threatening to cut that book out of me,” you add quietly once the laughter subsides.<br/>
<br/>
“Well that’s Miko for you,” explains Rick.  “She always sees the world in black and white.  Me, I got a dozen shades of grey, each one darker than the last,” he adds morosely, finishing off his drink and pouring another.<br/>
<br/>
“Why is that,” you ask.  “About Miko I mean.  Is it some kind of Japanese thing?”<br/>
<br/>
“No squirt, it’s because her parents got whacked when she was just a kid,” replies Rick wearily.  “Didn’t you read that story of Kali’s?  She keeps trying to get one about me on paper too.  You should cut Miko a little slack sometimes though, god knows she deserves it.”<br/>
<br/>
You sit in silence for a minute.  It had never occurred to you to think of Miko in that way.  “Do you really have seventeen rules,” you ask Rick, trying to change the subject.<br/>
<br/>
“I got a couple of dozen,” he admits.  “Like number six:  Always check the door.  Number seven is ‘check it again’.  It never hurts to be too careful in my line of work.  Our line now I guess.”<br/>
<br/>
“Our line,” you gulp.<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, the girls have it easy,” grins Rick.  “Kali rarely sets foot outside her classroom on <i>Stellae </i>business.  Miko gets called in on the tough fights, but at least that’s <i>uncomplicated</i>.  You and I are going to be the ones crawling through the shadows, picking out the leads.”  He takes another drink and laughs.  “Don’t think I’ve ever seem Miko’s face go <i>that </i>colour.”<br/>
<br/>
You make another, very audible, gulping sound.<br/>
<br/>
“Relax squirt,” grins Rick lopsidedly.  “It’ll all be alright so long as you remember Rick’s rule number one.”<br/>
<br/>
“Which is,” you ask very, very quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“If you see something odd, you worry about it.  Pick away at it until you work it out,” he explains.  “By the time you leave L.A. you’ll be ready to do that.  If you learn to stop whining first,” he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
“Very funny,” you scowl.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I’m a regular comedian,” he states, taking another drink.  “Did you say you could do Kali?  Let’s see her too.”<br/>
<br/>
You nod and close your eyes.  Kali’s <i>imago </i>hovers just at the edge of your reach.  With a burst of will, you focus on bringing it closer, revealing another image floating just behind it.  That gives you pause.  You mentally survey the collection of <i>imago </i>around you.  Kali’s is there, in front of you.  Rick, Miko and your mirror self are all nearby too, but you are unable to account for the fifth image.  Where did it come from.<br/>
<br/>
Well what did Rick say?  If you see something odd you pick away at it…<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221112211
author_id: imaj
title: A Ghost From The Depths
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You concentrate and bring the mystery image closer to you.  It settles around you, grows and entwines itself into position.  When you are ready, you open your eyes and stare at Rick steadily.<br/>
<br/>
“Hmmm,” is all he says.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean ‘hmm’,” you ask.  Your voice is soft and light, the voice of a young woman.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s not Kali,” continues Rick.<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” you explain.  “When I was reaching for Kali’s <i>imago </i>I felt this one nearby.  I don’t know who it is, or where the image came from but…  Well I guess I picked at it.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick laughs.  “You’ll go far squirt,” he nods.  “Go take a look at yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
You retreat to the bathroom, gasping in surprise when you look in the mirror.  The girl that you see there is simply the most devastatingly attractive person you’ve ever seen.  She blows Maria Vasquez, the hottest girl back at Westside, out of the water and makes Chelsea Cooper look like a troll.  <br/>
<br/>
You pause for a moment and wonder if there are such things as trolls.  You resolve to ask Kali later<br/>
<br/>
Even dressed your own rumpled and ill fitting clothes she radiates an intense beauty and hints at feminine curves.  You turn your head around and from side to side, admiring what you see.  The girl in the mirror has dusky skin and an Arabian cast to her features that lend a touch of the exotic to her beauty.  Two piercing green eyes shine like emeralds.  You try an experimental smile, almost dazzling yourself with the girl’s perfect white teeth.<br/>
<br/>
Rick looks round as you return to the living room, failing to affect nonchalance as you walk back in.  “What’d you think,” he says tightly as you settle down on the seat opposite him.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s hot,” you blush.  “I mean <i>really </i>hot.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick offers you a subdued grin.  “Yeah, I guess she’s the kind of girl that’d get your hormones on overdrive.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who is she,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Rick sighs unhappily.  “Her name’s Hélène Verdier.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know her?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I was making what we investigator types call a ‘deduction’.  It’s something we do sometimes,” he explains tiredly.  “You haven’t left the apartment have you?  So you have to be someone that’s been in here.  Impossibly beautiful half Arab girls are thin on the ground ‘round here, so it must be Hélène.  But the big give away is that I can smell Eldibria on her.”<br/>
<br/>
“Smell Eldibria?”<br/>
<br/>
“Things are going to get pretty old fast if you keep on repeating everything I say squirt, but yeah, smell.  It’s nothing like smelling something though,” he explains, tapping at his nose.  “I can’t smell anything.  But then again, smell is the best word I got for it.  Kali could explain it better.  Kali’s got a lot of explaining to do,” he adds darkly.<br/>
<br/>
You sit quietly, unsure of what Rick means.<br/>
<br/>
“An Eldibria killed her,” he eventually explains, looking at his shoes.  Your eyes go wide.  “Not me, if that’s what you are thinking, but I can still smell the stink of it on her.”<br/>
<br/>
“But if she’s dead, how did I get her <i>imago</i>?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well that’s the sixty four thousand dollar question isn’t it squirt,” grins Rick, suddenly looking a lot happier.  “Change yourself back to normal and we’ll talk about this later.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“Do trolls exist,” you ask Kali as you line the last of the leftovers up on the table, buffet style.<br/>
<br/>
Kali freezes momentarily.  “Why on earth would you ask that child,” she asks.  Out of the corner of your eye you watch as Miko takes a plate to Rick.  She hasn’t even got one for herself yet.<br/>
<br/>
“Just something I was talking with Rick about,” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t remember talking about trolls,” interrupts Rick without looking up.  He pushes the food around his plate ineffectually, but doesn’t lift fork to mouth.<br/>
<br/>
“Something I was thinking about when we were talking then,” you explain.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes there are such things as trolls,” replies Kali with a sigh.  “But they are mercifully rare and tend to live in solitude and away from people.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not very challenging,” interrupts Miko.  “The easiest way to kill them is…”<br/>
<br/>
“Miko,” interrupts Kali sternly.  “We are eating!”  Miko’s face flushes angrily.<br/>
<br/>
Rick plays with his food some more.  He finally takes a few bites, chewing carefully and swallowing with great deliberation.  “You got it all figured out Kali,” he asks, still staring at his food.<br/>
<br/>
"A great deal,” she replies solemnly.  “However, there is  much I am not certain about, and I have apprehensions about continuing."<br/>
<br/>
"Continuing? He got some <i>more </i>stuff he can do?"  He finally looks up from his food and stares at you for a moment.  Only a moment.  He looks back down, finding more interest in pushing his food about the plate again<br/>
<br/>
"He is recapitulating the Libra's structure, and there are some spells in there that should not be performed except under extraordinarily rare circumstances. If at all."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh quietly, that doesn’t sound like good news at all.  You say nothing though, because they insist on talking about you as though you aren't there. You just keep eating and listening.<br/>
<br/>
Rick shrugs.  “Squirt can turn himself invisible, or near enough.  Can turn himself into other people.  What more does he need?  Meantime, he's got some other tricks you can work on, take apart. And these spells of his are supposed to knock people out when he uses them. That's a useful trick by itself." He looks around. "You have a bell, Kali?  His inconspicuous trick…”<br/>
<br/>
“We gave a necklace,” interrupts Miko.<br/>
<br/>
“And I have reservations about his use of <i>imago</i>,” states Kali leaning forward.  “When I helped him to revert to his own form,” she continues in a quiet voice.  “He was lucky to escape unhurt.  Practice is required.  A lot of practice.”<br/>
<br/>
“He was managing fine this afternoon,” replies Rick.  You almost choke on your food.<br/>
<br/>
“He was what,” ask Kali and Miko in near unison.<br/>
<br/>
“I asked the squirt to show me what he could do,” explains Rick as you seethe at the betrayal.  “He’s practicing and wants to show you when he gets good at it Kali, so go easy on him.”<br/>
<br/>
“I should speak to him about the dangers of what he’s doing,” replies Kali sternly.<br/>
<br/>
“Was he in my body again,” asks Miko, with a tone approaching disgust.  “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
Rick laughs.  “Would I?  If it makes you feel better he was me too.  Me, you and Hélène Verdier.”<br/>
<br/>
The room goes deathly silent, even the clinking of cutlery on the plates stops.  You’re still angry at Rick for telling Kali about this afternoon, but instinct tells you to be quiet.<br/>
<br/>
“Really,” says Kali slowly after several silent seconds have passed.  “How would he have picked up her <i>imago</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s what I was wondering,” replies Rick, looking up from his plate and staring at Kali.  She stares back at him, unblinkingly.<br/>
<br/>
“I told Will that he picked up Miko’s image, not by touch, but from her very presence.  People like Miko fill the room,” explains Kali slowly.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks,” mutters Miko.<br/>
<br/>
“I suppose the same thing must have happened with Hélène,” continues Kali, her voice laden with sadness.  “Even now, months after…  Her presence is everywhere.  You see now why I am so protective of Will?  I will not have another acolyte…   I will not lose another acolyte.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you saying the squirt picked up the <i>imago </i>from a ghost,” asks Rick sceptically.<br/>
<br/>
“I suppose he could, couldn’t he,” replies Kali.  “Ghosts are nothing more than pure <i>imago</i>, but in this case I mean that I carry Hélène’s ghost with me.  Perhaps Seattle affected me more than I had realised, perhaps when Will acquired my imago he also picked up what I’ve been carrying around with me…”  Kali drifts off, unable to continue. You turn to look at her and realise that tears are forming in her eyes.  “I think I need to lie down,” she adds after a few moments.  Kali wipes at her eyes and excuses herself from the table.<br/>
<br/>
“Look what you’ve done,” hisses Miko at Rick after Kali has left the room.  She snatches Rick's still unfinished plate away from him and takes it to the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
“What the fuck just happened,” you ask, finally finding your voice.<br/>
<br/>
Rick turns to face you, surprise momentarily passing over his face.  “You were there the whole time squirt,” he asks.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” you mutter.  “Thanks for telling Kali about this afternoon.”<br/>
<br/>
“Rule number two squirt:  Trust no one,” he explains.  “Kali’s just trying to make sure you don’t come to a sticky end, which you know by now is a real possibility .”<br/>
<br/>
“That makes no sense,” you reply angrily.  “I’m supposed to trust no one, but I should trust Kali to look out for me.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick grins.  “Never said my rules were perfect squirt.  Besides, what’d you make of what she said?”<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer, Miko emerges from the kitchen.  “Don’t go fucking about with my body again,” she says menacingly before heading for her bedroom.”<br/>
<br/>
“Take your time,” adds Rick.<br/>
<br/>
“I…” you begin.  “I don’t know.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick looks around the room and grins.  “You know, if I could turn invisible and I wasn’t sure what someone was up to in their room, I know what I’d do.”  He hauls himself to his feet and starts clearing the table of food.  You guess that’s the conversation over.  Did he really mean what you think he meant?</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122112
author_id: imaj
title: The Case of the Missing Muse
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It doesn’t matter what Rick means or doesn’t mean.  Even if you wanted to snoop on Kali, you couldn’t.  You’ve never managed to pull off your disappearing trick on purpose, it just kind of happens.  You trudge off to your room to while away the hours before bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Someone shakes you violently.<br/>
<br/>
“Grzxflltt,” you mutter incomprehensibly.<br/>
<br/>
They shake you again, more urgently this time.<br/>
<br/>
“Just a few more minutes Mom,” you whine.  Someone slaps your face harshly and your eyes snap open.  Miko is perched over you.  “Oh fuck,” you whine again and are rewarded with another slap.  “I’m awake, I’m awake!”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” replies Miko waspishly.  “But you deserved that.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko stands clear as you try to rub the sleep from your eyes.  A glance at the clock by the bed reveals that it is only half past seven.  Admittedly the kind of time you got up back in Saratoga Falls, but having fallen into the habit of getting up after ten since you came to L.A., it seems ungodly early now.<br/>
<br/>
“What is it,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali’s gone,” she replies.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean gone,” you reply without thinking.<br/>
<br/>
“Look it up in a fucking dictionary,” she scowls and stomps out of your room unhappily.<br/>
<br/>
You stumble out of your bed and follow her into the living room, where picks up a note from the small table between the couches and hands it to you.  You recognise Kali’s neat, tight, handwriting instantly, even though it takes you a few minutes to focus on the words.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry,” the note begins.  “I thought I’d moved on from what happened in Seattle during summer, but I was wrong.  I need time to heal and I need solitude.  I shall return when I am better.”<br/>
<br/>
“This is Rick’s fault,” says Miko, snatching the note  from you.  She paces impatiently about the room while you stand at loss for what to do.  “I phoned him earlier and he’s on his way over.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you want me to do,” you ask quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t fucking know,” she shouts at you.  She sighs and her shoulders sag.  “I don’t know what to do,” she says quietly and you realise it’s the first time you have seen her at a loss.  You take her by the shoulders and guide her gently over to one of the sofas.  “Thank you Will,” she adds, leaning on your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
You sit like that, awkward and unsure what to do next for a while.<br/>
<br/>
Rick pushes through the front door about twenty minutes later.  Miko sits up straight, opens her mouth as if to say something and then thinks better of it.  “She’s gone,” she eventually says, her tone oddly flat and lifeless.<br/>
<br/>
“Lets go take a look then squirt,” replies Rick, motioning you over.  He heads for Kali’s room.<br/>
<br/>
“Where are you going,” asks Miko, a note of alarm creeping into her voice.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali’s bedroom,” replies Rick.  “Where did you think I was going?”  Miko looks as if she is about to voice a complaint but Rick cuts her off.  “How else am I going to investigate this?  Come on squirt,” he adds.  You scamper after Rick, following him into Kali’s bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a mess, completely different from the tidy, organised room you were in yesterday morning.  The bedclothes are rumpled, clothes are scattered about the floor and the chest at the bottom of the bed lies open.  Sheets spill out from it, pulled out in a rush and not placed back.<br/>
<br/>
“This strike you as normal squirt,” asks Rick as you close the door behind you.<br/>
<br/>
“It wasn’t like this yesterday morning,” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali’s neat.  Organised.  Tidy,” explains Rick, punctuating his speech with small, abrupt, hand gestures.  “This isn’t like her at all.  So she left in a hurry.”  He kneels by the unmade bed and closes one eye, as if examining something.  “Maybe she couldn’t sleep.  Got up in the middle of the night and decided she was going to go.”  Rick gets up and moves to the walk in closet.  “She packed quickly and messily.  You know what the puzzler is though squirt?”<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, because you do not.  In fact, you are impressed at the way he’s working everything out.<br/>
<br/>
“The chest,” he explains as he walks over to it.  “Why’d she need bedding.”  He kneels again and digs inside.  “Why’d she need bedding from the bottom?”<br/>
<br/>
“What did you find,” asks Miko, entering the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
“Only more questions,” mutters Rick, standing back up.  “She left in a hurry Miko.  I don’t think she told anyone where she was going.  Hell, I don’t think she told anyone other than us that she was going at all.”<br/>
<br/>
“So,” asks Miko.<br/>
<br/>
“It means someone’s expecting Kali at work in an hour or two,” explains Rick.<br/>
<br/>
“But she’s gone,” states Miko.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, but she’s still expected at work soon,” replies Rick.  “If she’s run off without thinking…”<br/>
<br/>
“She hasn’t,” interrupts Miko.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s not what this room tells me,” says Rick sharply.  “All I’m saying is we want to make sure she has a job to come back to.”<br/>
<br/>
“What are you…” begins Miko.  She glances at you.  “Oh, no…”<br/>
<br/>
“Why not,” grins Rick.  “Think of it as part of the squirts training.”<br/>
<br/>
You finally realise what Rick means.  “No,” you protest.  “No way.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re going to be doing this a lot squirt,” explains Rick.  “Better start practicing now.  It’ll save your life later.”<br/>
<br/>
“This is,” Miko pauses to search for a word.  “It’s disgusting Rick.  Disgusting.”<br/>
<br/>
“What did you think the squirt was going to be doing Miko,” replies Rick.  “We all have our part to play.”  He winks at you, rather pleased with the pun.<br/>
<br/>
Miko’s face twists, but she acquiesces.  “Very well,” she says sourly before leaving the room.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not sure about this Rick,” you whine.  “It feels wrong.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’d be helping Kali out squirt,” explains Rick.  “I’m learning a lot watching you.  Learning what you can do, how we’re going to work together.  You’re going to have to be good at it squirt.  You gotta be able to walk into the office block as the boss’ pretty PA, download the files from the isolated network, maybe plant a virus or two and come back out.  And that’s as well keeping her lunch date with her vapid friends from HR and meeting Steve from marketing for a little quick nookie in the stationary cupboard.  All without any of them working out what you’ve been doing.”<br/>
<br/>
“You really think I’ll be able to do that,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, if you can’t you’re going to have a real short career,” replies Rick.  “With a very private funeral,” he adds, causing you to shudder.  “I’m going to guess you don’t want that, so start practicing now.  Fill in for Kali today and I’ll start looking for her.”<br/>
<br/>
You bite at your lip nervously as you agonize over what Rick is asking of you.  You can’t shake the feeling deep down that it’d be wrong somehow.  Unfair on Kali.  On the other hand, if she goes missing from her job without warning, she could easily lose it.  Filling in for Kali, at least for a little while, could stop that.  And Rick seems adamant that this is part of your training.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221122
author_id: imaj
title: The Kounterfeit
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I’ll do it,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“Good,” nods Rick curtly.  He waits patiently for a minute before looking at you again.  “Well?”<br/>
<br/>
“Can I do it in private,” you whine.  “It feels awkward.”<br/>
<br/>
“If it makes you feel better squirt, but you better get used to flaunting other peoples bodies” he replies cryptically before exiting.<br/>
<br/>
You walk over to the mirrored doors that lead into Kali’s closet.  Closing your eyes, you reach out and feel for the <i>imago </i>of Kali.  It feels warm and comforting, despite the distance between it and you.  With a little effort, you concentrate and pull it towards you, at the same time readying to expel your own image.  The sense of Kali get’s closer and closer, blazing brightly in your mind’s eye, comforting and nurturing you.  It envelopes you, radiating outwards and illuminating the mental image you hold yourself in.<br/>
<br/>
Then you open your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Seeing Kali in the mirror is a small relief, because this time the transformation has been smoother.  Still, there is no time to relax, as you’ll need to get ready quickly and you can only feel the faintest ghost of Kali’s memories.<br/>
<br/>
Kali’s bedroom has an en-suite, so you dive inside for a quick shower.  Despite having used her <i>imago </i>before, you’ve never looked too closely at her body.  You don’t have time now either, even if you weren’t plagued by lingering feelings of <i>wrongness</i>.  It’d be like spying on your mother.  You wash quickly and efficiently, although you are mildly surprised to finally notice just how youthful her body is.  You were sure she was older.<br/>
<br/>
Just a perk of Perelandra, you think.<br/>
<br/>
The stray Kali thought is encouraging, you realise as you dry yourself off.  You might just have a chance of pulling off the impersonation.  You pad back through to the closet and look for clothes, quickly picking up a simple looking ensemble:  Pinstriped slacks, a white silk shirt and a wide belt.<br/>
<br/>
You start slipping into the clothes, starting off with a plain looking but functional set of panties and bra.  The slacks and blouse feel comfortable as you slip them on, almost natural feeling.  After you slip the belt round your waist you examine yourself in the mirror again.  To your surprise, you have the same simple elegance that the real Kali seems to exude.  There’s something missing though, so you sit down by Kali’s make up table and try to apply some.<br/>
<br/>
It takes several attempts to get it right, but eventually you manage to replicate something that broadly matches Kali’s understated look.  Then you pin your long, grey streaked hair into a tight bun that leaves a couple of bangs hanging down at the front and walk out into the living room.<br/>
<br/>
“Come Miko,” you say serenely.  “We do not want to be late.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick looks up from the sofa and almost cracks a smile.  “Colour me impressed squirt,” he says.  “You almost sound like her.”<br/>
<br/>
“Almost,” replies Miko.  “Except you forgot to pick up the designs for the client.  And probably her car keys as well.”<br/>
<br/>
“Gracious,” you say, consciously replicating Kali’s gesture of placing the palm of her hand just below her collar bone.  “That was foolish of me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Now you’re laying it on a little thick squirt,” grimaces Rick.  “Do it the way you did it when you first came in.”<br/>
<br/>
“I wasn’t doing anything,” you protest.<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe that’s it,” explains Rick.  “Try and relax, go on what instinct tells you.  I’m guessing they’re really <i>Kali’s</i> instincts.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll try,” you say uncertainly.<br/>
<br/>
“Try and get the designs for the client from Kali’s office then,” interrupts Miko sourly.<br/>
<br/>
“Remember squirt,” calls Rick as you retreat from the living room.  “Relax.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“I don’t see why I can’t drive,” you moan as Miko turns Kali’s car into the driveway at your destination.  Kali’s client has a large mansion in the Hollywood Hills a good hundred yards back from the road.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you know how to drive,” asks Miko acidly.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course I know how to drive,” you exclaim.  “I have a truck back in Saratoga Falls.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wrong,” replies Miko shrilly, carfully navigating the car round a steep bend in the driveway.  “Will Prescott has a truck in Saratoga Falls.  Kali Valentine’s car is in Los Angeles.”<br/>
<br/>
“Kali Valentine is allowed to drive her own car,” you whine too quietly for Miko to hear.  You look around, craning you neck to peer out the passenger side window.  The garden is large, although there are clear signs that work is being undertaken there – bits of tarpaulin and scaffolding  litter the ground.  The house at first appears to be a large bungalow, but as you get closer you realise that there are lower floors where the side of the hills fall away beneath it.  “Who lives here,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Miko tells you.<br/>
<br/>
“Awesome,” you say.  “I love all his films, especially the ones with the giant robots.  You know, the ones that turn into other giant robots.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko shakes her head and makes an odd little gesture with one hand.  It mean’s she’s really annoyed you remember from somewhere.  “This is not going to work.  You may look like Kali, but your manner is nothing like her.  He is a <i>producer </i>Will,” she explains.  “He does not <i>make </i>the films except in the broadest of senses.  “Kali does not like the films this man oversees, and I agree with her.  They are crass, overbearing and without merit, much like the man himself.”  Miko pauses as she takes another difficult turn.<br/>
<br/>
“However, he is very wealthy,” you interrupt, the words almost slipping out unbidden.  “And wealthy people can afford to be crass and overbearing, and to hire people to make there lives a little less crass and overbearing.”  Miko glances at you, a trace of surprise clear in her expression. “I remember saying that,” you say anxiously.  “How do I remember saying that?”<br/>
<br/>
“Because Kali said that,” replies Miko quietly as she pulls the car to a halt beside a truck filled with decorating equipment.<br/>
<br/>
You stare out the window and try and centre yourself, as if you were about to meditate.  Kali’s <i>imago </i>surrounds you, masking you.  At the same time you can sense little wisps of memory darting about, at times they float on an invisible wind, or drift directionless or sink to the floor.  They are intangible and you can not grasp them, but if you hold your ear to them you can just about hear voices.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you can use that…<br/>
<br/>
“I can do this,” you say quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Miko makes a non committal sounding soft grunt.  “You’d better be quick,” she says nodding towards a thin figure striding out from the house.  <br/>
<br/>
<i>The client</i> you think as you look at him:  Floppy, greying hair with a deliberately messy style, designer stubble.  His clothes are simple, yet at the same time clearly very expensive.<br/>
<br/>
And he’s expecting to speak to Kali.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221112211221
author_id: imaj
title: First Impressions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You close your eyes and concentrate on the wisps of Kali’s memories.  The radiating glow of Kali’s <i>imago </i>that fills your minds eye dims somewhat.  It isn’t diminished or gone, merely filtered to allow you a better view of Kali’s persona.  As it fades you realise that there are more of these memory-ghosts than you had thought.  They flit about seemingly at random for as far as you can imagine.  It’s as if there are a thousand whispering voices, just on the edge of hearing.<br/>
<br/>
You reach for a nearby one, hoping to pull it closer, but it proves stubbornly intangible.  With focus, and a lot of effort, you slowly drag it closer until you can hear its voice.  To your surprise, the others shift around too, as if they were somehow all connected invisibly.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes snap open.  “He wants his house decorated as if it was an Edo period castle,” you say.  Your voice is calm and serene, the words rolling out with just the smallest hint of an accent.  Just as Kali might speak them.  “Inspired by his latest film.  Samurai robots, no less.  Will might like to see that, but I can’t imagine that it appeals to you as much Miko.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko actually smiles.  “I didn’t think I’d ever be happy to see you rooting around in someone’s head, but you might actually do this,” she says quietly, as the client is getting very close now.<br/>
<br/>
“Quite,” you smile, reaching round to the back seat to fetch the black plastic tubes with Kali’s latest drawing inside them.  There is a tiny, almost unnoticeable static shock as you grab the picture carrier and, unbidden, another little cloud of memory leaps at you.  You remember drawing pictures as Kali, not the ones inside the tube but another set, the garden that is taking shape around you.  You push the thought to one side, it’s not important right now.  “We had best talk to him,” you sigh, feeling Kali’s own weariness with the client’s tastes.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali,” says the client warmly as you step out the car, the picture tube in one hand.  “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”  You search what memories you can, but there’s nothing that hints at what he’s talking about.  Perhaps it was a conversation Kali had <i>after </i>you copied her <i>imago</i>.  He grabs you by the shoulders and leans in and air kisses you.  The bristles of his stubble scratch against your cheeks, causing more memories to flash close briefly.  “Maybe you can show me what you’ve been cooking up, eh?”<br/>
<br/>
He turns to Miko, just as she closes the driver side car door, before bowing stiffly in a way that he must think is Japanese.  “Miss Toyotomi, good morning to you too,” he adds.  You can’t help but give Miko a pointed look as she rolls her eyes.  It’s a Kali reaction, and that very fact knocks Miko out of her stride.  Luckily the client misses all of this.<br/>
<br/>
“New sketches,” asks the client, grabbing at the picture carrier in your hand.  Your first instinct is to pull it away from him, but his hand brushes yours and another flash of memory hits:  You suddenly <i>know </i>that it’s better to let him grab the drawings rather than risk upsetting him.  “Can I look at them,” he asks once the carrier is already in his hands.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course,” you say smoothly.  “In your study, perhaps?  I shall be along momentarily, I just need to have a few words with the contractors first.”<br/>
<br/>
The client grins like a puppy that’s been given a treat.  “Great,” he replies enthusiastically before bounding off back inside his house.  Both you and Miko watch him in silence until he disappears inside.<br/>
<br/>
“That seemed to work,” says Miko quietly, sidling up beside you.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m getting better at it I think,” you reply, letting Kali’s persona slip for a second.  “I just need to focus, and sometimes touching something brings up memories.”<br/>
<br/>
Miko raises an eyebrow.  “Well don’t go touching my things,” she snarks.  “Kali would probably be able to explain why but…  well…”<br/>
<br/>
“We will have to make do with what we have,” you reply, pulling Kali’s memories and mannerisms close again.  You clasp your hands together earnestly and scan the grounds.  “We will need to find the contractors before they try to put the carp pool in the wrong way round again,” you add as you settle deeper in to being her.  It is going to be a long day.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“I can’t believe I used to like that guy’s films,” you say as the lift doors open.  You and Miko exit, the door to Kali’s apartment is only a few steps away.<br/>
<br/>
“You can stop being Kali now, you know,” replies Miko as you fumble in Kali’s handbag for the keys.<br/>
<br/>
“I have stopped being Kali,” you moan.  “Talking to that guy put me off ever seeing one of his films again.”  You find that the door is unlocked already.<br/>
<br/>
“Rick must still be in,” replies Miko, spotting your concern.  She pushes past you and through the door.  <br/>
<br/>
Rick is still lounging in the living room when you enter, another empty bottle sitting on the table by the sofa.  He looks up as you enter.  “How’d it go squirt?”<br/>
<br/>
“Passing grade,” replies Miko before you have a chance to speak.  She continues to talk as she walks straight past Rick and heads for her bedroom.  “Kali’s client couldn’t spot the difference, although the man <i>is </i>an idiot,” she adds, slamming her bedroom door behind her.<br/>
<br/>
“Sounds like you did good if you impressed Miko,” says Rick.  You sit on the opposite sofa demurely.  “You think you got it worked out?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m starting to understand it more,” you explain.  “I need to concentrate and focus to access the memories.  It’s almost like listening to them.  If I listen to one though, related memories become easier to get to.  I’ve also noticed that if I touch something, I sometimes get flashes of memories that might be associated with the objects.”<br/>
<br/>
“Psychometry, huh?”  As Rick utters the word, its meaning falls into your mind from somewhere in the set of Kali thoughts surrounding you.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be ridiculous Rick,” you reply.  “That’s hardly a Sulva prodigy.  No, I believe touching the objects simply jogs the memory, making it easier to access.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick actually smiles widely at this.  “You did it there, didn’t you?  That’s impressive squirt.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” you smile back, letting Kali’s memories slip away.  “It’s really helpful, being able to get Kali’s insight on my powers directly like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t rely on it too much squirt,” say Rick, the smile rapidly fading from his face.  “I doubt you’ll be able to rely on Kali’s instincts when you’re wearing a different face.  Even if you can, a moment out of character is gonna be a life and death issue once we get properly started.”<br/>
<br/>
“<i>Properly </i>started,” you ask.  “You mean we haven’t already?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah,” he gestures vaguely.  “Training exercise.  Part training exercise, part helping Kali out.”<br/>
<br/>
“And have you found out where Kali is yet,” interrupts Miko, emerging from here bedroom again.  “Or have you spent the entire day drinking.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know I work better lubricated,” answers Rick.<br/>
<br/>
“I know you’d <i>smell </i>better after a shower,” Miko shoots back, wrinkling her nose in disgust.  “Did something die in that jacket?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m hurt,” says Rick evenly.  He gives Miko a level stare, but she seems to have exhausted her ammunition for now.  She sits down next to Rick.  “I did a little digging.  Kali’s passport is gone, which tells us she’s leaving the country.  She left her car so it could be by train.  Most likely by plane, though, since I accessed her e-banking and she withdrew a pile of cash from an ATM near LAX.”<br/>
<br/>
“You hacked her computer,” screeches Miko.<br/>
<br/>
“You’d be surprised how many people write their passwords down somewhere.  Kali’s got the skill to talk her way round using a credit card to book tickets.  No trail to follow that way.”<br/>
<br/>
“If she uses her passport,” you ask.  “That’d leave a trail too, wouldn’t it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Harder one to follow,” shrugs Rick.  You get the feeling he’s sizing you up.  “I can think of a way to get round that though.”<br/>
<br/>
Before you can ask him what he means, the phone rings.  You all look at each other.  “You going to answer that,” Rick asks you.<br/>
<br/>
“Why me?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s <i>your </i>phone ‘Kali’,” replies Rick.<br/>
<br/>
You pick the handset up from its base, pulling Kali’s thoughts and memories closer again.  It’s getting a little easier and the memories are more complete each time.  You clear your throat and speak.  “Hello,” you say clearly, matching Kali near perfectly.  Rick moves up beside you.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey Kali,” comes the voice from the other end.  You almost don’t recognise it, because it’s robbed of its characteristic cheery enthusiasm.  The identity of the caller is still obvious though.<br/>
<br/>
You put you hand over the mouthpiece of the handset and look at Rick.  “It’s Joe,” you mouth silently.<br/>
<br/>
Rick suddenly looks alert.  He stabs the speakerphone button on the phone base and makes circling motion with his hands.  “Keep talking,” he mouths.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s good to hear from you Joe,” you say calmly.  Inside you struggle to keep a lid on your nerves.  Is Rick running another impromptu training exercise?  “How are you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Worried,” replies Joe, his voice now coming out of the phone’s base unit.  Miko looks up from her seat on the sofa.  “I read what you wanted me to read.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at Rick, who shrugs.  You have no idea what Joe is talking about, and his words haven’t dislodged any memories.  Should you keep playing along, pretending to be Kali, or admit the truth to Joe?</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122112212
author_id: imaj
title: What Joe Knows
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It’s one thing to trick a passing acquaintance of Kali’s, but something else entirely to successfully fool someone that knows her as well as Joe does.  Kali was Joe’s tutor for much, much longer than she has been yours.  They’re practically family.  You are convinced you’d slip up somewhere along the line.<br/>
<br/>
Better then, to come clean now rather than risk embarrassment when Joe finally catches on that you are faking.  A stray Kali thought reminds you that he is very, very clever, after all.<br/>
<br/>
“Joe,” you say quietly.  “It’s, me, Will.”  Rick puts his head in his hands but you ignore him.  “It’s kinda complicated.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will, really?  If you hadn’t said…” he replies.  “You sound just like Kali.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, it turns out I can sort of turn into other people,” you explain.<br/>
<br/>
“That is so cool,” interrupts Joe.  “But where’s Kali?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’s sort of missing,” you reply nervously.  “I’m filling in for her until we find her.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then I’m too late,” replies Joe quietly.  “Who’s ‘we’?  Miko?”<br/>
<br/>
Miko snorts in the background, but you ignore her.  “Miko is uh… here,” you reply, choosing your words carefully and diplomatically.  “Rick too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Rick’s there?  Can I speak to him,” asks Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m here kid,” says Rick in a neutral tone, lifting his head out of his hands.  “What did you mean about being too late?”<br/>
<br/>
“A few months ago I got a letter from Kali,” explains Joe.  “There was a simple envelope maked with a sigil.  A conjunction of Arbol, Perelandra, Lurga, and Catilindria under a comet.  I don’t need to tell you what that means.”  Well, they need to tell you, because it’s meaningless gibberish as far as you are concerned.  It’s obviously important though, because even Miko is silent now, her face earnest as she listens to the speakerphone.<br/>
<br/>
“So you opened it,” asks Rick.<br/>
<br/>
“A few hours ago,” confirms Joe.  “I’d been looking for the signs for a while, checking every week or so.”<br/>
<br/>
“You didn’t open it before then,” interrupts Rick, his voice remains neutral but you can clearly see he’s unhappy, even if Joe wouldn’t be able to.<br/>
<br/>
“The instructions were clear,” explains Joe.  Rick doesn’t say anything.  He doesn’t need to, disappointment is written all over his face.  Maybe Rick wouldn’t have left the envelope unopened?<br/>
<br/>
“What was inside kid,” asks Rick eventually.<br/>
<br/>
“One of Kali’s stories,” replies Joe simply.  It seems such a trivial answer, and for a second it looks like Rick is going to ask another question, but Joe continues.  “It’s about… well… It describes… what happened in Seattle.”  It’s strange, you realise, hearing Joe at a loss for words.<br/>
<br/>
“You didn’t know about it kid,” asks Rick.  “Must have been a shock finding out like that.  Artefacts like the Chalice of Shadows and the people that use them rarely play nice, but I figure you know that now.”  Rick pauses a second to think about something and you swear that for a second you can almost hear him working out the angles.  “But that itself isn’t something that needs you to panic and call Kali about it being ‘too late’ is it?  What else was there?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing gets past you, does it,” chuckles Joe nervously.  He’s trying to calm himself, you realise with Kali’s insight.  “I’m glad you’re on our side.  It was just the story, but the ending was unusual.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” says Rick, his face tight.<br/>
<br/>
“What happened to Hélène,” asks Joe.<br/>
<br/>
Rick looks at you long and hard before answering.  “Lucio used the Chalice on her,” he states plainly, unwilling to elaborate exactly what that means.<br/>
<br/>
“After that, I mean,” replies Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali cremated the girl’s remains,” answers Rick.  “If that’s what you mean.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not according to the story she wrote,” replies Joe, laughing nervously again.  It is a brittle laugh that could break and twist so easily.  “She took the… what remained of Hélène back to L.A. and hid it in the chest at the foot of her bed.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at Miko.  Her mouth hangs open, her expression one of uncomprehending shock, as if she had just been told that up was down and suddenly found herself falling into the sky.  Rick is made of sterner stuff, he controls his emotions, keeping them much closer to his chest, but you can see the slightest touch of worry in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you still there,” asks Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, we are,” replies Rick.  “Thanks kid, you’ve filled in a lot of gaps.”<br/>
<br/>
“What…  What should I do?”  Joe’s question sends a shiver down your spine.  It sounds like he’s just as shaken as Miko, and that tells you the situation is very grave.<br/>
<br/>
“Keep your eyes open kid,” explains Rick.  “If you see Kali, you let me know, you know how to contact me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” says Joe.  “But you really think she’d come here?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know what to think right now kid,” replies Rick.  “So I’m sticking to being careful.”  He stops for a few seconds to think and you can see him thinking over what he’s going to say next again.  “There’s one more thing, and you ain’t going to like it kid:  Keep an eye out for a pretty arab girl, striking green eyes.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why,” asks Joe.  “Who’s that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hélène,” replies Rick flatly.<br/>
<br/>
It takes Joe a few seconds to respond.  “No,” he shouts.  “She wouldn’t do that, not Kali.”  You are totally lost as to what they are talking about now.<br/>
<br/>
“Not saying she would kid,” states Rick equivocally.  “Just saying we have to cover all the bases.”<br/>
<br/>
“She wouldn’t…”<br/>
<br/>
“I believe you kid.  I really do”<br/>
<br/>
Joe sighs.  “Have you spoken to Dad about this yet,” he asks.<br/>
<br/>
“Not yet,” answers Rick.  “I was hoping we could sort it all without having to trouble him.”  Miko shoots Rick a hooded, unhappy looking, glance.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll keep an eye out for them then, Kali and Hélène,” says Joe, resignation obvious in his voice.  “Thanks Rick, and bye.  Goodbye to you too Will.”  The phone clicks off as Joe cuts the call at his end.<br/>
<br/>
“You aren’t going to tell Charles,” Miko asks Rick darkly.  “He will need to know.”<br/>
<br/>
“I would be surprised if he didn’t already,” says Rick evenly.  “I don’t want to trouble him with it, right now it’s not important.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not important,” screeches Miko.  “She will have to see Edward.”<br/>
<br/>
“The Jesuit,” scoffs Rick.  “You really think he can help Kali.  Margaret would be more Kali’s speed.”  He looks thoughtful again for a second.  “Hmm, that gives me an idea,” he mutters.  “Besides, should we be having this conversation right now,” he asks, looking directly at you.<br/>
<br/>
Miko glances at you for a few moments  “No,” she replies acidly before stabbing at Ricks chest with a finger.  “I’ll speak to you later,” she adds before storming off again.  She does that a lot, you reflect.<br/>
<br/>
“Not invisible this time squirt,” says Rick with the ghost of a smile.<br/>
<br/>
“I wish I was,” your mumble quietly.  “What’s going on?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not going to sugar coat it for you,” replies Rick, shaking his head.  “It doesn’t look good.  And it’s never a good thing to find out that the biggest threat you’re going to encounter in your career isn’t a monster or some damned artefact but when one of your own goes bad.  I told you an Eldibria killed Hélène.  It was one of us, one of the <i>Stellae</i>.  Someone who’d started to blur the line between right and wrong until he couldn’t tell which was which anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
“Like Frank,” you ask.  “And the anima band?”<br/>
<br/>
“Eh?  The cadet,” replies Rick.  “Not exactly the same – Frank wasn’t himself when he did those things, so he has a shot at redemption.  I’m taking about when you get to the point where you are behaving like that because you <i>genuinely </i>believe it’s the right thing to do.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is that going to happen to Kali,” you ask worriedly.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s not done anything wrong,” explain Rick.  “Just made a couple of silly mistakes.  Living in a bit more of a grey area than she’s used to, but we can’t all be as pure as the driven snow like Miko and the Jesuit.  Some of us are always going to be a little grubby.  The trick is not to get too grubby,” he adds, giving you a faint little smile.  You’re not sure if that’s encouraging or frightening.  “Kali will be all right if we find her quickly.”<br/>
<br/>
“If we don’t find her,” you can not help but ask.<br/>
<br/>
“We’ll find her in time squirt,” replies Rick convincingly.  “Listen, I’d better talk to Miko, calm her down a little.  We’ll talk in a bit.”<br/>
<br/>
You settle back down on the sofa as Rick knocks on the door to Miko’s bedroom.  He enters after a few seconds, leaving you alone in the living room.  You try to relax, to put what you’ve heard out of your mind.  In your heart, you know that <i>you </i>are a grey area, a grubby little corner of darkness in the <i>Stellae</i>.  The sudden revelation that you might yet fall completely gnaws away at you.  <br/>
<br/>
Knowing who the rogue Eldibria Rick was talking about, and knowing how they came to stray so far as to end up killing this Hélène would put your mind at ease.  Joe mentioned that Kali had written a story, and you find yourself wondering if there is a copy of it somewhere in the apartment.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, do you really want to know?  What if the rogue Eldibria’s story was similar to your own.  You don’t think you could bear knowing that.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221122121
author_id: imaj
title: The Accidental Voyeur
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Kali’s office seems the logical place to start looking, especially since your attempts to dig into her memories have come up blank.  You’ve trawled through what you can of Kali’s thoughts, but there is nothing about Seattle.  Nor anything about writing the story that Joe called about.  Skipping from one related memory to another hasn’t brought you anywhere close either.  It’s almost as if she had repressed the memory of it.<br/>
<br/>
So, the office.  Kali keeps her stories there, and you know now that touching things, objects, people, whatever sometimes brings a memory into focus.  Maybe looking here will lead you to the story you are looking for.<br/>
<br/>
The office isn’t particularly large, just a comfortable workspace where Kali can prepare the various drawings and documents she needs in her job.  One wall is lined with shelving, filled with art books, drawing materials and boxes full of odds and ends.  On the opposite side, two desks.  The first, plain and uncluttered, save for Kali’s laptop.  The second is really more of a drawing board, its angled surface adjustable by the means of a number of small pulleys and weights.  The far wall is mostly window, presenting a great view of the cityscape<br/>
<br/>
You start with the shelves, pulling down the same box Kali did the night she gave you Miko’s story and placing it beside the laptop.  The box is full of notebooks, some bound in leather others cheap spiral bound things.  You pick one at random and open it, flipping through the pages idly.  It’s not even a story, just a few random notes on Welsh mythology about some guy called Efnysien.  You feel one of Kali’s memories become more prominent and grasp at it:  She hasn’t even written this story yet, just made some vague plans to.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the notebooks are similarly disappointing.  At any other time, they might be interesting reads, but tonight you are looking for something very specific.  You stack them all neatly beside the box until it is empty.<br/>
<br/>
Nearly empty, anyway.  At the very bottom you find a loose leaf of paper.  There are a only few lines written on it.  They might once have been in Kali’s neat hand, but it is impossible to tell.  She has apparently scored through the text heavily, obliterating whatever was written and making it impossible to read.  Only the final line has escaped this treatment, two words in Kali’s tight, neat script:  Retrograde Motion.<br/>
<br/>
The words seem meaningless to you, another story title?  It doesn’t match any of the stories in the notebooks you’ve looked at so far, so you pick up the piece of paper to try and see if it provokes any memories.  Nothing surfaces, no tell tale little shock as a memory gets closer.  Instead you feel your hold on Kali’s persona weaken a little.<br/>
<br/>
That’s a giveaway in itself.  A story that Kali’s persona doesn’t want to think about?  It must be the one you’re looking for, but where is it?  Kali obviously hasn’t committed it to paper, or at least stored it with her other stories.  You wonder for a few seconds what other methods she could have used to write it before your eyes come to rest again on Kali’s laptop.<br/>
<br/>
With hindsight, you’re surprised that you didn’t check it first, and that Kali wrote her stories by hand rather than typed them.  You boot the laptop and drag a chair over to the desk.  It doesn’t take long to dig through the files – Kali, it seems, prefers to do most of her work on paper and the laptop is only used for financial calculations and spreadsheets.  It also seems that while Kali knows more than you can imagine about the Stellae and magic, her knowledge of computers is sketchy at best.  You find the file you are looking for, helpfully titled ‘"<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/view_item/item_id/1890248-Retrograde-Motion---Part-1" target="_top" title="A member of a secret society investigates the disappearance of one of her colleagues.">Retrograde Motion - Part 1</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/view_item/item_id/1890248-Retrograde-Motion---Part-1" target="_blank" title="A member of a secret society investigates the disappearance of one of her colleagues."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a>’ in the recycle bin on the laptop’s desktop.<br/>
<br/>
You open the file and settle into the chair to read.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You’ve almost finished when Miko storms into the room, her face like thunder.  She walks straight past you without a word, right up to the window.  Miko stares out the window, her hands on her hips, as you sink further into the chair.  It’s difficult enough dealing with Miko normally, let alone when she’s in a bad mood.<br/>
<br/>
You are just about to sneak out when Rick walks in as well.  He glances at you briefly, then at Miko.  When he looks back at you, he seems momentarily confused, as if he has forgotten something.  Rick sighs, discounting whatever is troubling him and walks silently over behind Miko.<br/>
<br/>
“You disgust me Bredon, you know that,” says Miko without turning around.  She must have seen Rick’s approach reflected in the window.  She spins round and jabs her finger at Rick.  “First you let that perverted boy run around playing at being Kali.  And it isn’t enough to hide her disappearance from outsiders, you want to hide it from the <i>Stellae</i>?”<br/>
<br/>
“Firstly,” replies Rick holding up his hands.  “We still need to train the squirt, and this is almost <i>exactly </i>the perfect training scenario for him.  Almost too perfect.”<br/>
<br/>
“What are you suggesting,” screeches Miko.<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing,” replies Rick.  “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.  Kali’s life falls down round her, squirt’s training gets accelerated.  That kind of destruction and renewal happens all the time.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s nothing to do with me,” says Miko angrily.<br/>
<br/>
“And secondly,” continues Rick, ignoring the visibly shaking Miko.  “All I’m saying is we make sure Kali gets to see Margaret.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s Edward’s job to deal with Kali and whatever she has or hasn’t done,” interrupts Miko, stabbing her finger at Rick again.  “Not Margaret’s.”<br/>
<br/>
“And what do you think will be left of Kali once he’s done,” says Rick solemnly.  “Going by what the kid told us, and what we know ourselves, Kali’s gonna be fragile right now.  We deliver her to Ed’s tender ministrations and he’ll rip her apart.”<br/>
<br/>
“Better that than have her go rogue,” spits Miko.<br/>
<br/>
“This is Kali we’re talking about…” begins Rick.<br/>
<br/>
Miko sniffs at the air theatrically.  “You’re drunk, I can smell it on your breath,” she shouts.  “You’re a filthy drunk that can’t be trusted to do the right thing.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know I work better lubricated,” replies Rick angrily.  It’s the closest you seen to him losing his temper.  “Besides, I need to be to deal with you,” he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
“What,” screeches Miko.  “Well at least the stink of the booze hides the stink of <i>you</i>.  When was the last time you bathed?  Six months ago?”<br/>
<br/>
“And when was the last time you had a good fuck,” replies Rick in kind, the question stunning both Miko and you.  “Oh that’s right, I know.  Two hundred and seventy five days ago…”<br/>
<br/>
Rick is cut short as Miko pounces at him with the feral grace of a cat.  He staggers back a few steps before falling on his ass, Miko’s weight bearing him to the floor.  Just as you think you are about to watch your tutors murder each other, Miko does something far more surprising.<br/>
<br/>
With a snarl she lunges at Rick’s mouth and starts suckling noisily at it.  They make long, luscious, squelching sounds, and Miko makes little roaring noises in her throat. She raises herself up long enough to hiss at him. "Oh, God, you've been with <i>filth</i>, you <i>filth!</i> If I catch something from you…"<br/>
<br/>
"I use protection. You know me, Miko. Layers and layers."<br/>
<br/>
"Whores and sluts! And they all look like <i>me</i>, don't they, you degenerate!"<br/>
<br/>
"They don't look anything like you. I only take my business to Koreans."<br/>
<br/>
She gives a little scream and tears open his jacket. He hikes up her skirt and pulls down her stocking, and then she's working feverishly at his trousers.<br/>
<br/>
You ease yourself very, very gently out from the seat and tiptoe very, very quietly to the door.  Then you close it a softly as you can behind you and go sit in the living room, trying desperately to think of something else other than what you just saw.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Rick wanders back into the living room sometime later.  You haven’t moved since you left the office really, just sat there half heartedly meditating.  Your eyes snap open as you hear Rick’s soft padding footsteps.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you… um… speak to Miko,” you ask nervously, unable to meet Rick’s eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Rick looks at you quizzically.  “You <i>were </i>in the office, weren’t you,” he asks slowly.  “For a moment I thought I saw you but when I looked back you were gone.”<br/>
<br/>
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you stutter.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re a lousy liar squirt,” replies Rick.  “Something else we’re going to have to work on.”  He sighs heavily and brings his hand to his forehead.  “Don’t mention this to Miko.  She’s… well, you know…”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m a terrible liar,” you say weakly.  “Not suicidal.”<br/>
<br/>
“Aren’t you,” he asks.  “It’s a close run thing.”  He sighs with exasperation again.  “Christ, we’re going to have to get this invisibility thing of yours under control, if only to stop Miko from murdering you.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s not funny,” you mutter unhappily.<br/>
<br/>
“<i>Someone’s</i> going to kill you if you can’t get to the point where you can use it at will,” states Rick flatly.  He pulls his head out his hands.  “We’ll make a start now.”</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221112211221211
author_id: imaj
title: In The Uncharted Depths
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You nod your assent.  The sooner you get this sorted the better.<br/>
<br/>
“Ok squirt,” says Rick, pointing at a spot on the floor.  “Sit yourself there.”  He squats in front of you and holds out a filthy looking hand.  “Put your palm in mine and think of the moon.”  <br/>
<br/>
You are briefly reluctant to do as he asks, so dirty is his hand, but there’s a very serious look in his eyes that causes you to relent.  You close your eyes and relax.  The moon appears, filling the sky in front of you, so close is it.  You drift effortlessly, basking in its reflected light.<br/>
<br/>
And then there is a sharp tug downwards as gravity cruelly reasserts itself.  You fall and fall, the moon shrinking away from you until you hit what feels like water with a loud splash.<br/>
<br/>
The ocean, and it must be an ocean for there is no land in sight, is tranquil.  A perfectly flat mirror that reflects the sky above.  Gentle waves lap at your neck as you tread water, wondering what is going to happen next.<br/>
<br/>
The water around you starts to move.  Slowly to begin with, but picking up more and more speed until it forms a raging vortex.  You fight to keep your head above the waves but to no avail.  The water closes over you, dragging you deeper into the murky depths.  You gulp for air but there is none.  Your lungs fill with water and you cannot breathe.<br/>
<br/>
But you do not drown, instead you float there, somewhere in the uncharted depths.  The water is thick and it is impossible to see very far.  There is no hint of the surface above you, nor the sea bed below you and nothing but gloom in all directions.<br/>
<br/>
Then you realise the shadows are starting to coalesce in one direction.  You squint at the dark mass forming nearby, trying to make out the shape of it.  You can see nothing, or at least nothing <i>recognisable </i>and suddenly you feel very afraid.<br/>
<br/>
You start swimming away from the gathering shadows, but the water is cloying and almost unwilling to let you pass.  A glance to your right and reveals a thin tendril of shadow keeping pace with you, just out of sight.  You try to pick up the pace and veer to the left, but to your horror there’s another tendril there.  It swings in closer, and a gigantic tentacle, covered in suckers emerges from the gloom.<br/>
<br/>
You turn yourself about and try to head in the opposite direction again, but the other tendril draws closer, revealing a second tentacle.  All the while, the mass of shadows behind you grows closer and closer.  You try swimming straight up, but it’s too late now.  The tentacles grasp you about the waist and drag you backwards.<br/>
<br/>
The shadows behind you start to take a solid form as they emerge out from the murky water.  A huge, beak like, maw lined with needle teeth snaps open and closed as the tentacles pull you in.  Two huge beady eyes swivel to focus on you, peaking out from under a crusted shell that stretches all the way back into the darkness.<br/>
<br/>
Kali called Rick a kraken, and you wonder for a second if that’s what this monster is – a kraken.<br/>
<br/>
Then it bites down on you and your nerves are wracked with them most intense and terrible pain you have ever experienced.  You scream and scream and scream as everything fades to black.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The living room reappears.  Miko rushes in from somewhere else in the apartment, dropping into a combat stance quickly and with a practised ease.  She takes in the scene:  You, your face pale with fright and sweating profusely.  Rick, tired and disappointed looking.  Then Miko bursts into laughter.  “I thought someone was being murdered,” she smiles.<br/>
<br/>
“Very funny,” you mutter weakly.  You think you preferred her when she was threatening to cut you open.<br/>
<br/>
“Teaching the squirt to hide,” grunts Rick.  “Gotta get a handle on his disappearing trick if he wants to use it in the field,” he explains to Miko.  “Stick out your hand again squirt.”<br/>
<br/>
“Again,” you whine clutching your hand close.  “It <i>hurt</i>…”<br/>
<br/>
“You think that hurt,” sighs Rick.  “Wait'll you're snooping around the Egyptology wing of some museum, and the bad guy sends <i>scarabs </i>after you. Now come on."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You try it three more times, with the same results. You're trembling hard by the fifth time he puts out his hand. "Gimme a hint, Rick," you plead. "I can't--"<br/>
<br/>
"You gotta find it yourself, squirt. It's in you someplace. A hole. A shadow. A blind spot where the kraken can’t see you.”<br/>
<br/>
“How come I can do it when it’s you two uh… talking about me,” you ask.  You don’t want to mention that it happened earlier in the office.<br/>
<br/>
Miko takes a bite out of the apple she’s been eating for the last little while.  “Much as I’m enjoying watching you scream like a little girl,” she begins with a wolfish grin.  “You might actually have a point.  You’ve got more of a spine than you let on.  It isn’t fear that makes you vanish is it?”  Her smile glints as her eyes bore straight into you.  “Oh, something much worse for a teenage boy,” she giggles.<br/>
<br/>
“What is it Miko,” sighs Rick exasperatedly.<br/>
<br/>
“Embarrassment,” replies Miko gleefully.  You feel your cheeks flush.  “See!”<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s say your right Miko,” says Rick evenly.  “What do you suggest?”<br/>
<br/>
“Ask him what he happens when he’s embarrassed,” grins Miko, looking at you pointedly.<br/>
<br/>
“Sometimes I wish I could just sink into my surroundings,” you say quietly.  “Like right now…”<br/>
<br/>
“So what are you saying,” asks Rick.  “That the squirt becomes part of the background.”<br/>
<br/>
“Or he distracts you with it,” suggests Miko.  “Like the puppeteer in a bunraku show.  You watch the puppet, not the puppeteer,” she explains when both you and Rick stare at her in confusion.  “Oh fine…  Like the way a matador uses his cape in a bull fight.  Does that make more sense for you?  Want me to explain with diagrams?  Americans,” she mutters the last word quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Rick turns to face you again, ignoring the still muttering Miko.  She’s shifted to Japanese now and you have no intention of calling up her memories to try and understand it.  “One more time squirt,” says Rick.  “This time try distraction rather than hiding.”<br/>
<br/>
You place your hand in Ricks again, finding yourself in the depths of the ocean again.  Already, shadows gather in the distance as the kraken approaches, but this time you are ready for it.<br/>
<br/>
Though there is nothing nearby to distract the beast, you now realise that there is still one thing that you can use.  One thing that you will <i>always </i>be able to use.<br/>
<br/>
The moon is your ally.<br/>
<br/>
You reach for it and feel it as Sulva forms in your hand.  Thrusting your arm out, you point the moon in the direction of the kraken.  A shaft of light illuminates the water in front of you, and beyond it you can make out the writhing tentacles and snapping beak of the monster.  It cannot approach you, for Sulva blocks its path and leads it astray every time it moves towards you.<br/>
<br/>
An invisible hand closes about yours and squeezes hard. The vision wavers and dissolves into Rick's unshaven face. His smile is mirthless as he grips your fist inside his. "Hold it," he says. "Hold it. Hold it. Where is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's in my hand," you say slowly.<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you going to put it?"<br/>
<br/>
Where can you possibly put the Moon?<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but you don't have to put it anyplace. You just have to know where to find it. You remember what Miko said, the bit that made sense anyway. "Toro," you tell Rick.<br/>
<br/>
"Good enough," he says, and releases you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
To your surprise, Rick is waiting in the living room when you emerge from Kali’s bedroom the following morning.  You’d only been in a few minutes, just long enough to get dressed for another day on site with the client, but somehow he’d come into the apartment during that time.<br/>
<br/>
“I am surprised to see you here again Rick,” you say calmly, letting your attitude match your current visage.<br/>
<br/>
“Morning to you too squirt,” replies Rick, looking up from a battered notebook.  You crane your neck to take a peek, but Rick’s handwriting verges on the illegible.  “You heading out to Kali’s client again?”  Rick continues before you can answer.  “Change of plan, we’re going to use that new skill of yours to track down where Kali’s taken herself.”<br/>
<br/>
You think about that for a second.  It’s true that most of the remaining details on the client’s house were worked out yesterday.  All that needs to be done now is to supervise the start of the work, and Miko could do that by herself.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, it wouldn’t be a good idea for Kali to miss two days of work out of the last three.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122112212111
author_id: imaj
title: The Airport Assignment
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Rick pushes through the crowd of passengers milling aimlessly about the airport concourse.  He snakes through the crowd with the ease of a shark darting through water, people almost instinctively part to let him pass.  No such luck for you though, you inevitably get caught when the gap in the crowd closes after Rick’s passing, or trip over suitcases, or get elbowed in the face by accident.  You wonder if you are subconsciously throwing your cloak about again, blinding the passengers to your presence.  Now that you have a better understanding of it, you can see you aren’t.  You just naturally have that effect on people.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on squirt,” says Rick impatiently, turning to see why your progress is slow.<br/>
<br/>
A little girl runs across your path, almost causing you to trip and fall.  “Can you slow down Rick,” you call, just keeping your balance.  “I can’t keep up.”  Rick sighs but stops, giving you enough time to catch up.  “Why are we here anyway,” you ask, just before a heavyset woman in her late fifties pushes brusquely past you and careless lets her suitcase roll over your toes on the way to the check in desk.<br/>
<br/>
Rick snorts as you suppress a yell of pain.  “Christ squirt,” he exclaims.  “No wonder your prodigies developed the way they did.  You’re almost naturally invisible.”  You look at your shoes, partially to see the damage, but mostly to hide your embarrassment.  “And that’s what we’re gonna do here, put your prodigies to the test, at least the cloak anyway.”  He pauses to look around, his gaze settling on travel agent recessed into one of the walls.  “We’re gonna look for Kali too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why here,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Rick frowns.  “Investigating’s all about making connections squirt,” he explains very quietly.  “Kali withdrew a large amount of cash from one of the ATMs here – we know she was here.  Kali took her passport – we know she took a flight, and was probably going abroad too.”<br/>
<br/>
“But she could have gone anywhere,” you whine.  It’s true – flights go from LAX to all over the world.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re gonna play a hunch too squirt,” explains Rick, flashing the briefest grin.  “I got an idea where Kali <i>might </i>have gone, and there’s only a handful of travel agents and airlines that offer that destination.”  He points at the travel agent he was looking at earlier.  “That’s one of them.”<br/>
<br/>
“So?”<br/>
<br/>
“So, this is where you work your magic squirt,” says Rick.  “Kali ain’t the kind of lady who carries a false passport.  She’s booked a flight in her own name, and it’s gonna be on someone’s computer.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick starts pushing through the crowd again and you hurry after him, stumbling as you go.  “So I just throw up the cloak and peek on their computer,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re a quick study squirt,” answers Rick.  “That’s exactly what you do.  You’re young, you understand how these things work better than I do anyway.”  He stops by the entranceway to the travel agent and turns to look at you.  “Look, I’ll make it easy for you.  See that blonde at the desk there,” he explains, subtly gesturing towards one of the woman inside.  She’s pushing forty and wears far too much make up, you decide.  “She’s going to take a leak in a minute.”<br/>
<br/>
You try to keep your surprise and confusion off your face, but probably fail miserably.  “How’d you know?”<br/>
<br/>
“What did Kali tell you about Eldibria?”  You shrug noncommittally.  “Water squirt, water.  You know how much of the human body is water?  I just gave it a little nudge.”<br/>
<br/>
You watch the woman closely as she taps at her computer.  After a minute, just as Rick predicted, a pained expression crosses her face briefly and she stands up from her chair.  Then she passes through a door at the back marked ‘employees only’.<br/>
<br/>
That’s your cue.  You wrap your cloak round the other woman inside the travel agent.  She too busy with her computer and it’s easy to tie up her attention.  Two customers sit in front of her.  The first, a man, is talking animatedly to the woman and is easy to distract.  The second customer, presumably the first one’s wife or girlfriend is looking round.  You have to wait until she looks away, as you learned last night that you cannot vanish from someone who is looking straight at you whilst practicing with Rick.  Only once all three are tied up in the folds of your cloak, distracted by the scenery and not by you, do you enter.<br/>
<br/>
You look back as you walk calmly over to the vacant computer.  The crowd on the concourse is floating aimless outside.  No one seems interested in what’s going on inside, and in any case they are far too numerous to distract anyway.  You’ll just have to keep your wits about you and duck out of sight if anyone shows any interest.  You settle into the empty chair and your hands hover over the keyboard.<br/>
<br/>
Damn.<br/>
<br/>
It’s locked.  You’d need the woman’s password to access the computer.  You look up sheepishly to where Rick is leaning nonchalantly by the entrance.  Nothing to do but go tell him of your failure you realise with a sigh.<br/>
<br/>
“What’d you mean locked,” says Rick out of the corner of his mouth once you’ve explained it to him.<br/>
<br/>
“I mean, I’d need the woman’s password to look up Kali on their system,” you explain.  “I don’t have it so I can’t check.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick puts his head in his hands.  “Christ squirt,” he moans unhappily.  “You give up at the first hurdle?  That ain’t going to work.  You’re gonna to run into problems out in the field, and you’re gonna have to change your plans on the fly.  Why don’t you <i>find out</i> what the password is?”<br/>
<br/>
“But how would I…” you begin, before realisation strikes you full in the face.  No wonder Rick is so upset.  “Oh…” you add quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” sighs Rick.<br/>
<br/>
You smile sheepishly and duck back inside the travel agent.  The three people, the woman at the computer and her two customers still seem to be thoroughly enmeshed within your cloak so you proceed to the door the blonde passed through a few minutes ago.  One quick last look around assures you that no one is looking and you enter the door quickly yourself.  You close it behind you as soon as you are assured that no one is standing behind it.<br/>
<br/>
There’s not much in the back.  A very short corridor leads to a small kitchen which must double as a break room.  You glance inside – it’s empty.  There’s another door opposite it which is closed and, as you find out when you gently try to open it, locked.  Pressing your ear against it, you can just about make out the sound of running water.  A toilet being flushed, you guess.<br/>
<br/>
Which means you haven’t got much time.  You press yourself against the wall beside the toilet door.  If the blonde sees you when she comes out, you will not be able to hide yourself from her.  You prepare the sigil from the <i>Libra </i>in your hand and wait.  After a moment, there is a clicking sound as the door unlocks and the blonde woman exits.<br/>
<br/>
You’ve chosen your spot perfectly, as she turns away from you.  She is so close that you can see the roots of her hair, which are much darker than the rest of it.  You don’t waste any time, tapping her gently on the side of her head with your open palm.  She topples forward as soon as the sigil connects, but you grab and hold her before she can reach the floor.  Then you drag the blonde back inside the toilet, sitting her down on the toilet seat.  With luck she will not give her fainting spell second thought.<br/>
<br/>
You neither need, nor particularly want, to summon this woman’s <i>imago</i>, so you just reach for the memories you have absorbed.  Luckily, her password was near the surface.  It turns out to be her husbands name: Ron.  You shake your head at her appalling laxity.<br/>
<br/>
Better move fast.  You open the door back to the shop front and poke your head round, careful to take a look before you exit.  The customers have left, just leaving the other woman.  You wrap your cloak around her before heading for the unused computer again.<br/>
<br/>
The system opens up when you tap in the blonde’s password.  You have her memories of how to use the system, so searching it is easy.<br/>
<br/>
Paydirt.<br/>
<br/>
Kali booked a ticket here.  You have her destination, the airline she flew with and even the time she flew out – the very morning after she disappeared.  You push the chair back and head to Rick to tell him the good news.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221122121111
author_id: imaj
title: A Really Bad Idea
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“London, huh,” says Rick, nodding gently after you relay what happened inside the travel agent to him.  You catch a ghost of a smile playing across his features.<br/>
<br/>
“You knew,” you ask, half knowing the answer.<br/>
<br/>
“I suspected, I had a few ideas about where she might have gone” he replies.  “You confirmed it for me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well at least I did something,” you mutter unhappily.<br/>
<br/>
“You did ok squirt,” says Rick in a tone you guess is supposed to be encouraging.  “You had the presence of mind to make sure the blonde didn’t see you before you raided her skull.  And you hid her away somewhere she wouldn’t think too much about when she came to,” he nods.  “But did you remember to lock her computer after you were finished?”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck,” you swear.  “Should I have?”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re gonna be invisible squirt,” explains Rick.  “But that doesn’t mean people can’t see you.  Not where you are but where you’ve been.  The ripples you leave behind.  Blondie’s gonna come out in a few minutes and wonder why her computer isn’t locked.  Someone like her, it isn’t going to matter so much, but the kind of guys you’re gonna be dealing with?  Some of them are clever and some of them are paranoid.”  For a moment you wonder exactly how paranoid someone has to be before Rick considers them so.  “That’s a dangerous combination,” he adds.<br/>
<br/>
“Like you,” you ask, the words slipping out before you have a chance to consider them.<br/>
<br/>
Rick snorts.  “Worse than me squirt, worse,” he explains.  “Now, if I was going to grade you – which I’m not, because you’re here to learn, not to get bullshit grades – you’d be barely scraping a pass.  Until you can pull jobs like this off without leaving any trace at all, you ain’t ready.”<br/>
<br/>
“I see,” you say, staring at your feet crestfallen.<br/>
<br/>
“Cheer up squirt,” says Rick grimly.  “It ain’t that bad:  You’re heading in the right direction.  You just need more practice.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks,” you reply quietly.  “Actually, how did you know Kali would be going to London.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oxford actually,” explains Rick with a shrug.  “London’s just the closest airport.  She’s gonna see <i>Margaret</i>.  Margaret Dillon, her old mentor.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s a good thing right?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s the right thing to do, given the mess she’s gotten herself into squirt, yeah,” explains Rick.  “Given all the different ways she might have reacted, this is probably for the best.  It’s nice to be pleasantly surprised rather than have my cynicism proven correct again.”  Rick grins again for a brief moment.  “I guess I’d forgotten what a good little choirgirl Kali can be.  Of course, she should have gotten help months ago,” adds Rick with a frown.  “But Margaret will forgive that lapse.”  <br/>
<br/>
The way Rick stresses the name suggests that there are others in the Stellae that would not.  You think better of asking though.  “What happens now,” you ask instead.<br/>
<br/>
“Well,” says Rick drawing out the word.  “I should go to England and check that Kali <i>has </i>gone to Margaret and not laid out some clever diversion for us.  Like I said before squirt – You always check, and then check again just to make sure.”  He looks into the distance.  “I hate flying,” he says under his breath.<br/>
<br/>
“Cool,” you interrupt.  “I’ve never been to England.”<br/>
<br/>
“You ain’t going now squirt,” replies Rick.  “I can’t stretch to paying your fare as well.  Besides, this is just a formality, I’ll be back again in a few days.  Miko will look after you till then.”<br/>
<br/>
You try to hide your disappointment.  It’s unfair, you think.  You’ve helped out so much and now you’ve just been switched off and told to go home.  You don’t even want to think what the next few days are going to be like with just Miko for company.<br/>
<br/>
“Here,” says Rick, fishing about inside his faded sports jacket.  He pull out a set of car keys and tosses them to you.  “This’ll help you get back to Kali’s place,” he explains walking towards the travel agents.  He only takes a few steps before turning back round to add something.  “Oh, and squirt,” he says, his face solemn.  “Take good care of my baby.”<br/>
<br/>
You suppress a snort.  Rick’s car is a banged up heap that looks like it’s ready to break down at any minute.  Or fall apart, one or the other.  Still, you guess it’s important to him, so you nod gravely.  “Sure Rick.”  He actually smiles at you before turning back round and heading inside to book his own flight.<br/>
<br/>
The crowd on the concourse is a little easier to navigate now that you aren’t following along in Rick’s wake.  Of course, you still have to deal with the airport’s architecture and confusing approach to signage to make your way back out to the short stay car park where Rick’s car awaits.  You stop for a few seconds to puzzle out a sign that seems to indicate your way out goes through the roof as a group of three flight attendants walk by, small travelling cases trundling along behind them.<br/>
<br/>
They work for the airline that Kali flew out on, you realise.  In fact, they might even be the going to fly out to London given the time of day.  It’s a little stray memory from the blonde in the travel agent that get’s jogged by seeing the uniform.  You hadn’t even realised you were still holding her thoughts close.<br/>
<br/>
A crazy, crazy idea forms in your head.  Rick said he couldn’t afford to buy you a ticket.  You’re sure if he could have done, he would have let you come.  Ok, you’re not sure about that at all, but it’s a good excuse.  After all, Rick never explicitly told you to go back to Kali’s apartment.  What if you could stow away on the flight?  Keeping your cloak wound round a jet full of passengers for the duration of a long haul flight would be impossible, but if you used the <i>imago </i>of someone who was supposed to be on the flight…<br/>
<br/>
You watch as the three flight attendants continue away from you.  Two women, one man, their red uniforms immaculate.  If you could just split one off from the group and steal their face, their clothes and their suitcase, then you could be on your way to London, assuming that’s where they are bound for.  Even if those three aren’t it wouldn’t be too hard to find the cabin crew for Rick’s flight and swap places with one of them.<br/>
<br/>
An inner voice tells you that what you’re thinking of is a <i>really </i>bad idea.  Not disobeying orders as such, but it’s certainly it certainly has the feel of something utterly stupid.<br/>
<br/>
But then again, you always were stupid.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221112211221211112
author_id: imaj
title: The Moon Is Your Mentor
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The flight attendants push their way through the crowd on the concourse and you realise that you realise that you don’t have much time to make your decision.  You look at the sign, allegedly leading to the exit.  Then back at the flight attendants, the crowd already closing the path behind them.<br/>
<br/>
It’s probably the wrong decision, but you turn to follow them.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a little easier than it was following Rick.  The attendants are walking next to each other, the crowd splitting in front of them in a way that it never seems to for you.  It takes a little while longer for the crowd to fall back in once they’ve past, and that gives you the time to keep up with them.  You walk along behind them nonchalantly, your hands in your pockets and keeping your head down.<br/>
<br/>
You stop as the three approach a security checkpoint.  A guard stands by a door marked ‘authorised personnel only’, his hand resting easily on a holstered pistol.  You do a smart about turn when you see that, it’s not something you want to have to handle.  In fact, you almost give up on the whole idea.  That only lasts for a handful of seconds, until you realise you’re being stupid again.<br/>
<br/>
Turning back round, you see that the three attendants are still held up by the guard.  He’s checking their identification very carefully.  That gives you an opening:  They’re all distracted, not even aware of your presence.  You summon your cloak to you, covering the guard and the attendants in it.  Experimentally, you move in closer to check that it’s working.  A couple of people in the crowd on the concourse glance in your direction but the guard remains engrossed in the attendants identifications.  You’re close enough to hear them talk now.<br/>
<br/>
“Do we have to go through this every time,” ask the male attendant, with a very noticeable accent that you don’t recognise.  He’s barely older than you are, if much better groomed<br/>
<br/>
“Just doing my job,” replies the guard without looking up.  He hands the male attendant back his ID.<br/>
<br/>
“We appreciate it,” says the older of the other two attendants.  Maybe late thirties you think.  She’s attractive in a very specific and engineered sort of way that must take hours in front of a mirror every morning to achieve.  If what you’ve seen on television is accurate, her accent is very definitely English.  “We know how things are now.”<br/>
<br/>
“My pleasure Ma’am,” replies the guard with a tight smile.  “Everything checks out so I’ll let you through now.  Long haul flight, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Back home to London,” answers the older attendant as the guard punches in the code to open the door.  Another lucky break, these are exactly the people you’re looking for.  You move in closer again, trusting your cloak to keep these four from noticing you.  You’re practically breathing down the attendants’ necks but they seem indifferent to your presence.  Nobody shouts or complains as you slip through the door after them and let the cloak slip from around the guard.<br/>
<br/>
The attendants set off down the corridor, which only runs for a few metres before feeding into a larger corridor.  You follow them, peeking round the corners at the junction carefully, checking both directions.  The new corridor runs for some distance in both directions and numerous doors lead off it.  <br/>
<br/>
You just manage to catch another security guard in the folds of you cloak in time as he emerges from one of the doors.  His gaze passing over you just seconds after you put the cloak in place around him.  This corridor is going to be problematic, you realise – There’s too many ways in and out and it’d be all too easy for someone to see you before you spot them.  Suddenly, for all your prodigies, you feel very exposed.<br/>
<br/>
You resolve to grab the <i>imago </i>of one of the attendants as quickly as possible, it will be a lot easier to move once you stop having to look over your shoulder every few seconds.  You dart from door to door, checking all around you as you move forward.  It’s exhausting work, and you struggle to keep up with the three attendants.  You have another couple of narrow escapes with people entering the corridor or coming up behind you, just managing to get your cloak around them on each occasion, before the attendants come to a stop outside a set of toilets.<br/>
<br/>
“I need to stop here for a minute,” says the older woman before ducking inside one of the doors.  She wouldn’t have been your first choice, but the constant use of your cloak is starting to exhaust you.  You need to make the switch now.  You check the corridor one last time and edge into the toilet behind her, the <i>Libra </i>sigil already forming in your hand.<br/>
<br/>
The toilets are small and poky, only a couple of cubicles and a pair of sinks.  You move inside, slowly and carefully, just in case there’s someone else inside already.  Luckily the attendant is alone.  To your surprise, she seems to have come in to fix her makeup rather than use the toilet.  Still, it makes your job easier.  You thrust your palm onto her forehead, grabbing hold of her as she sags downwards.<br/>
<br/>
Her <i>imago </i>bursts into your awareness.  You pull it close, not quite enough to transform, but enough to flip through some of her stronger memories:  She’s Jennifer Moore, Jen to her friends.  At thirty nine, she’s a little older than you had thought, but looking good for her age, though it takes a lot of work and even more makeup to fix her look.  You scrabble through the wisps of memory, looking for the important one to confirm again she’s who you need – As Rick said, check and check again.  Yes, she’s due to work on a flight back to London.  Almost certainly the one Rick will be on.<br/>
<br/>
You pull Jen’s unresisting form into one of the cubicles and start removing her uniform.  You’ll need to work fast, make the switch before she wakes up.<br/>
<br/>
Fuck.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Before </i>she wakes up.  At best, you’ll have about fifteen minutes before Jen drifts back into consciousness.  The flight to London, you now know from her memories, takes hours.  The sheer scale of the mess you’re in almost encourages you to give up on the whole idea.<br/>
<br/>
Then you remember something Kali told you, something about Sulva: “He is your <i>ousiarch</i>, and as long as you bind yourself tightly to him, he can catch you if you go seriously askew with your powers.”  It seems like a long shot, but maybe a little meditation can give you some inspiration.  Worst case scenario, you can always give up and go back to Kali’s apartment.<br/>
<br/>
You lean on the counter, looking into the mirrors hung on the wall above the sink.  Then you close your eyes and summon the moon.  It hovers in front of you, round and full, so close you can make out patterns of craters and ridges.  Surprisingly, they start flowing and moving, rearranging themselves until you are staring at the combined sigils from the <i>Libra</i>, writ impossibly large over the surface of the moon.<br/>
<br/>
“What is it,” you mutter quietly to yourself.  You already know the sigil, you just used it to take Jen’s <i>imago</i>.<br/>
<br/>
As if in response to your question, the markings start flowing again, splitting apart, resolving into their component parts.  Well again, that’s something you knew already:  Sigils make up other sigils and the most complicated sigils describe actions, intents and spells.<br/>
<br/>
One element brings itself into focus, taking up the whole face of the moon.  Less helpful, as you are unsure what the part-sigil means.  The moon shrinks back, till it is only the size it would be in the night sky, sitting in a field of stars.<br/>
<br/>
The stars, you realise, are the <i>imagos </i>you’ve captured.  Kali, the star representing Kali, winks.  She knows more about the sigils than you do, so you pull her mind closer and look again at the moon.  You dive in and examine the sigil part closer.  A whisper from Kali’s thoughts tells you that it’s the part of the sigil that knocks out the target.<br/>
<br/>
What’s interesting, and what you can see thanks to Kali’s memories, is that the knock out sigil part is itself made up of two parts.  One part knocks out the victim, the other governs the length of time.  Weirdly, you notice, the second part can be adjusted, made stronger.<br/>
<br/>
That’s what you’re looking for.  You offer a quick thanks to Sulva for the insight.  It didn’t tell you anything you didn’t know already, but it helped you to reflect on what you did.  Helped you put things together in a new order.  You dial up the power on the knock out sigil element and put everything back together.<br/>
<br/>
You’re eyes snap open and you are back in the toilets.  On the floor beside you, Jen is starting to stir.  You bring the modified sigil to your hand and press it down on her forehead.  Jen goes still again, and this time she should be unconscious for at least six hours.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you ok in there Jen,” calls a voice from outside.  Her memories tell you that it’s Trisha, one of the other two attendants.<br/>
<br/>
You stagger a little as you summon Jen’s <i>imago</i>, twisting it round yourself and draping it over your body.  The older flight attendant appears in the counter mirrors, still wearing your clothes.  “I’m fine,” you reply in her voice.  “I just need a couple more minutes.”<br/>
<br/>
Hopefully that will keep Trisha out the way whilst you change into Jen’s uniform.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122112212111121
author_id: collided2
title: Accidents and Escape
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The door doesn't move. “Oh hurry up Jen,” comes Trisha’s voice from the other side. That gives you a few minutes at most you figure, so you move quickly and start stripping the real Jen. You breath a sigh of relief... and then disaster strikes. <br/>
<br/>
You step back trying to gather your thoughts, and fall over the prone Jen. You can't muffle your surprised yelp in Jen's voice as you tumble back, or the hard thud as you hit the floor. Panic-stricken, Jen's eyes - your eyes - look desperately at the door. <br/>
<br/>
"Jen?" Trisha's voice echoes. Hastily you wrap your cloak around her, backing up and watching as the younger flight attendant bursts through the door, and looks in shock and surprise at her colleague, unconscious on the floor. "Jen? JEN!" She bends over the body, furiously tapping her cheeks. Then the panic fades, and Trisha's training takes over. Instantly she's working her way through her first aid training, checking her breathing, her pulse. You stand back in quiet horror, still wearing Jen's face, awash with her thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
You've ruined her career. It's all over. Your one action has destroyed her life. <br/>
<br/>
You blink at the realisation as you watch Trisha's desperate attempts to help her colleague. You feel existential, like a ghost of Jen in an out of body experience. Flight attendants aren't allowed to fly if they have a history of fits or seizures. Jen's fainting spell - as it's going to be remembered - is a black mark against her career. There's no way she'll be able to explain what happened, because she doesn't know. She's going to be grounded for life, having lost her job. She's not going to be able to pay the rent with her flatmate. She's never going to find a rich husband who... you shake your head. You don't have time to think about this.<br/>
<br/>
You look at Trisha. It's tempting to use a sigil on her, too, but that's the last thing you can do in an airport; it's only going to cause panic. One person unconscious is a medical emergency. Two is a terrorist alert. <br/>
<br/>
 You slip through the door, back into the corridor. You need to get out of here before all hell breaks loose, but now you're trapped. You're back in the corridor again, with all its unpredictable through traffic, and the effort it takes to use the cloak is exhausting you. You've got to get out of here, you realise. You edge out, casting desperate looks in either direction.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly you're aware of noise behind you. Trisha is calling for help. Of course she is. You don't know where people are going to come from, and you doubt you could raise your cloak even if you did. You're exhausted, drained completely. You decide to take your chance. Shifting your <i>imago </i> back to your own form, you rush through the door opposite, unsure where it will take you. <br/>
<br/>
You close the door, and, with relief, realise the room is pitch black. The lights are off, and that means nobody's home. You slump down against the door, letting your body slump to the floor. Behind you can hear people talking to each other, yelling with concern. No doubt they're rushing to Jen's aid, trying to revive her. It's going to be chaotic, you know. That could be an opportunity to slip away. <br/>
<br/>
You stand up and turn the lights on, deciding to risk it. A momentary flash blinds you, before your eyes adjust. You're in what looks like a janitor's office. There's a bunch of boiler suits with names on them, and trolleys containing various cleaning fluids and chemicals. Behind them metal shelves contain row upon row of different colored bottles of bleach. You blow out your cheeks, and form a plan.<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later you leave the room. The EMTs are in attendance and the corridor is busy, but nobody pays you any attention as she turns out of the room, pushing a cart, and heads toward the general concourse. Without drawing any attention, you press the exit button and slips out of the secure area, and out into the crowds. <br/>
<br/>
You feel bad about using Kali's <i>imago </i>for this, but she's the only one who wouldn't draw attention. Despite her looks, she is the only person whose face you have who looks old enough to be a custodian. It also puts paid to your plans with Rick. There's no way you can chance being spotted in departures with the face of Kali Valentine, and that means you're heading back to LA. <br/>
<br/>
It's easy enough to lose the trolley, and then you're heading to the carpark to collect Rick's ride. It's still a crappy piece of junk, but at least that suits your current disguise as a janitor. You start the engine and groan inside at the throttled gargle emanating from the engine. This is going to suck. Not only do you have to nurse this heap of junk back to Kali's, but you'll have to suffer Miko until Rick gets back. <br/>
<br/>
You stall the engine in its space, and bounce in your seat, wondering why the hell Rick drives stick anyway. "Gracious," you groan in Kali's voice, shaking your head at how weird that sounds. <br/>
<br/>
The pause, though, gives you time to think. You try and remember exactly what Rick said. Miko will take care of you. He never told you that you had to accept. It was more of an option. You drum your fingers on the dash and consider your options.<br/>
<br/>
You could head back and see Miko. She was lightening up to you, you thought. She still wasn't ideal, but you passed off your impersonation of Kali successfully, and her tips with your cloak were actually constructive. It could be interesting training. Chances are she'd have you continue to impersonate Kali until the real Kali returns. <br/>
<br/>
But Miko is still an enigma, entirely closed up and sealed. You remember Kali mentioning that Miko was a consultant on her design project, but you're not sure if you can recall what Miko <i>actually does</i> during her long days absent. Rick probably knows, but you wonder if you could impress him by finding out more. Despite reading her story as written by Kali, there's much you don't know.<br/>
<br/>
A dangerous thought pops into your mind. Dangerous because it involves Miko, and she carries a magic sword and can probably kill you in a second if she wanted. But it would be an ideal test of your skills if you could pull it off... and you think it would impress Rick.<br/>
<br/>
You remember your American history, back in Saratoga Falls. American Indians used to count coup - risking their life to touch their opponent. You wonder if you could do something similar to Miko. You wonder how many times you could meet her, having borrowed someone else's identity, without being caught. If she catches you, she'll kill you - or perhaps just have a screaming fit. But if you could pull it off, maybe Rick will start trusting you enough and your abilities to let you go to Europe, or on a mission...</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221122121111212
author_id: collided2
title: Miko or Miko
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>If they are going to trust you, you're going to have to prove yourself, you decide, your own <i>imago</i> forming around you as you drive off. And there's no better way to do it than to prove yourself to Rick by getting close to Miko. Miko Toyotomi is a <i>badass</i>. She'll be on constant guard. And if you can somehow pull this off, even your grizzled, hard-drinking kraken mentor will have to admit it's pretty impressive.<br/>
<br/>
You could cheat. You're pretty sure after your foray at the airport you could pry into Miko's thoughts, locked up in those beautiful constellations in your head, and know exactly what she does with her day. But the cloak has tired you out, and while you could have kept any imago close, you don't know how well you'd muster the thoughts. It seemed easy, but then so did sneaking on board the flight...<br/>
<br/>
Instead, you'd do what Rick would try. Old fashioned detective work. There's no point heading back to Kali's; Miko never returns home until gone 6pm at the earliest. You still have half the day, and as you head down Los Angeles' arteries, the haze of pollution a brown smear outside Rick's heap of a car, you decide there's not much point heading to Hollywood, either. It's across town from the airport, and besides, you doubt she's working on Kali's project. <br/>
<br/>
So where would Miko go? <br/>
<br/>
You think about what you know. She's fiercely independent, so probably works on her own. That doesn't help in LA. She's Japanese... again, not a huge help. But she's also carrying a sword. It's a long-shot, but you figure you might as well try Little Tokyo. It's a desperate ploy, but you can't just constantly change your appearance and hope to get lucky. Sulva's got you this far, but you need some talent of your own. <br/>
<br/>
Eventually you pull up and get out. The buildings are all three-storeyed, with hanging signs in both English and Japanese characters. On the corner there's a large wooden structure of some kind, painted bright red with a little grated room at the top. You feel like you're in some tourist idea of Japan, Westernized to the point that the real culture has been airbrushed out of existence. It's not Miko's kind of place at all, but, you figure, you're not going to lose anything trying here.<br/>
<br/>
Your theory is that Miko has to find a place to practise with the sword. She could do it at Kali's, but it's not equipped like a proper dojo, and maybe there's some aspect of ritual to the whole thing. The only problem is where to begin.<br/>
<br/>
"Hi," you say, deciding to stop a random person on the street. The man is Japanese-American, and looks at you expectantly. "I was looking for my friend. She's..." you pause. It's kind of stupid to say 'she's Japanese' in Little Tokyo. For a moment you consider darting down an alley and shifting into Miko's form, but that's probably the dumbest thing you could do. "She...she trains with a sword. Is there any dojo around here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Try down by the temple. There's a kendo dojo down there."<br/>
<br/>
You thank the man and continue down the street. Nobody pays you any attention, just assuming you're another tourist come to rubber-neck at a different culture. You pass supermarkets filled with ingredients you don't recognize, and countless restaurants that offer Japanese kitchen food - the kind you never thought was authentic anyway. Eventually you hit the 'dojo' the man described. It's little more than a doorway that leads down a grimy, darkly lit flight of stairs. A faint smell of urine and sweat drifts up from inside. So much for dojos being a place of purity, you figure. Perhaps it's better downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
You take a step inside, only to halt as a bony hand grips your sleeve. "Hey!" you exclaim, turning to the side. An old man is sat on a stool by the doorway, tucked out of view. He's almost a stereotype too, with a whispy beard and an impossibly wrinkled face, the skin like old parchment. <br/>
<br/>
"I want to see if my friend is here," you say. <br/>
<br/>
The old man shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"My friend. Down there." <br/>
<br/>
Another shake. A gesture to leave.<br/>
<br/>
"She trains with a sword. Kendo, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ken-do..." the man looks at you for a moment, then shakes his head. You wonder if he speaks English. You're tempted to start a sigil and press it to his forehead.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. My friend Miko, she..." His eyes widen in understanding. <br/>
<br/>
"MIKO?" <br/>
<br/>
"Yes! Miko! Hai?" The old man gestures. Not downstairs, but next door - to the temple. You raise a brow, wondering what he means, but he's insistent. "Miko! Miko!" You practically let him heard you out the door, and then you're in front of a...well, a shrine. <br/>
<br/>
You take a step through the arch. Amazingly, in a moment you feel utterly alone, disconnected from the noise of LA. Leaves drift on the wind as Fall turns to Winter, scattering on a serene stone square. There's a smell of incense somewhere, and a small, darkly lit shrine up a flight of stone steps. It's got a traditional Japanese roof, bowing outward, and you can see a bell at its entrance. In front of the shrine is a small pool of water, with wooden ladles resting on the pool wall. You seem to be the only person around.<br/>
<br/>
You edge inside. The shrine, it seems, is only the first part of a much larger complex. Around its corner a series of buildings stretch out behind it, all gathering in front of a much larger temple building. A few people are there, quietly going about their business. You head up the stone steps, walking to the first shrine.<br/>
<br/>
"Can I help you?" A quiet voice, soft and with a Californian accent, comes from inside. You turn to look. A young woman is stood there, a classic Japanese beauty somewhere between 20 and 30. She's much smaller than you, and her black hair is cut short in a modern style. She's wearing red-rimmed glasses, with wide cheeks and a cute smile that greets you warmly. You'd assume she's just an American girl like anyone else, only she's wearing a Japanese robe of some kind, its top half white, the bottom half a deep red. It flows down, covering her body.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh...hi," you say. "I was told my friend was here. Miko?"<br/>
<br/>
The girl giggles. "Your friend, Miko?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"No," she shakes her head. "You were told there <i>was a miko</i> here. Miko means...ah, it's kind of like a shrine maiden."<br/>
<br/>
You glow with embarrassment. The old man had completely misunderstood what you were saying. Although, in a way, you have discovered something about Miko that you never thought you would. "Oh, sorry... I didn't realize..."<br/>
<br/>
"No," the woman says, shaking her head. "It's OK. Miko is a name, too. It's just a role as well."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and shrug. "Ah...so...what does a miko do?"<br/>
<br/>
She smiles. "Here, come, I'll show you."<br/>
<br/>
The woman leads you further into the shrine, past the altar and bell, into a quieter room. You wonder if this is to keep you from being seen by the other worshippers, who might wonder what you're doing. Sure enough, she quickly closes the door. "Here, take a seat," she says, pointing to a mat on the floor. You do so, wondering where this is going. With an easy motion, your guide reaches for a small box with a bunch of rolled up pieces of paper. She hands them to you, gently folding her robes to take a seat opposite. <br/>
<br/>
"My role varies. I cleanse the shrine. Sometimes I perform ritual dances. But I also help with this. It's called omikuji, fortune telling. Pick a roll, and that's your fortune. There's only a set number it can be. Everything from great luck to great misfortune."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, and do so. It's just a bit of fun, after all. You unfurl the paper, and look at it blankly. It's in Japanese. <br/>
<br/>
She grins. "This is your fortune, here, pass it over and I'll tell you what it says."<br/>
<br/>
You give another shrug, and pass it over. Your hunt for Miko has been fruitless, but so far this has beaten sitting at Kali's all day, waiting for her to get home. You watch as the woman looks at it. She clears her throat dramatically, opens her mouth... and gasps. If she had breath she would scream.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes are wide with horror. She looks at you, not comprehending at all, only turning pale and shaking, her body leaning away from you, trying to claw to get away. You try and ask her what's wrong, but her fright is beyond words. You know any moment she's going to start yelling in fear.<br/>
<br/>
Instinctively you reach over, your fingers touching her forehead, the sigil in your hand sending her into the deep trance you put the flight attendant into earlier. The woman slumps to the ground unconscious, her <i>imago</i> flashing into your mind.<br/>
<br/>
You sit back and wonder what the hell just happened. Clearly she saw something in your fortune. Something that filled her with terror. And you don't read a word of Japanese. <br/>
<br/>
This is big, you know. <br/>
<br/>
And you can't do anything about it.<br/>
<br/>
You've got two options. You could take the fortune back to Miko, of course. She'd be able to read it, and you imagine she'd know what to do with it, too. Obviously this is something monumental. But there's another option, too. You're pretty sure you've recovered well enough to go prying into memories, and your guide is asleep for several hours. You could always replace the shrine's miko, find out the fortune yourself, and maybe find out what's going on.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122112212111122
author_id: imaj
title: Easy Ways To Spot A Shapeshifter
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The door doesn’t move.  “Oh hurry up Jen,” comes Trisha’s voice from the other side.  That gives you a few minutes at most you figure, so you move quickly and start stripping the real Jen.<br/>
<br/>
Her uniform is a deep, vivid, red that is cut close to reveal her figure.  You start with the silk scarf round her neck, removing it and folding it carefully before placing it on the counter.  Her blazer comes off next, revealing a plain white blouse that hugs Jen’s figure tightly.  Her chest heaves as she breathes, doing interesting things with the way the blouse clings round her breasts.  You might have stopped to stare once, but you’ve got an identical pair under your own clothes.  You can always look at them later.<br/>
<br/>
You decide to unbutton the tight blouse next, with the way she’s settled on the floor it looks ready to burst open.  As you undo the buttons, Jen’s breasts spill out.  They are ample, but look as if they might sag if it were not for her bra.  It’s the bra of someone that needs support, not to look sexy – plain white with no frills or decorations, just sturdy and practical.  As you place the blouse and bra by the rest of Jen’s clothes you notice you were right:  Her breasts <i>do </i>sag a little.<br/>
<br/>
You also notice she’s wearing one of those bodystocking tights things, the ones that come right up to the stomach and help keep it flat.  Of course, wearing her <i>imago </i>like you are, and knowing her memories as you do, you know that her belly is starting to run a little flabby.<br/>
<br/>
Her shoes come off next, shiny red leather with a practical short heel.  Those you leave on the floor.  Jen’s pencil skirt is the same deep red as the blazer.  You unzip it carefully, working it round her ass and pulling it down past her feet before adding it to the growing pile of clothes.  That just leaves her tights, including the tummy tucker, and panties.  The former have to be removed carefully to avoid any runs, the latter you pull away roughly, revealing a dark thatch about her crotch.  Evidently she dyes her hair.<br/>
<br/>
That’s the last of Jen’s clothes.  You drag her into one of the stalls and wedge her onto the toilet seat.  Then you hastily remove your own clothes and pile them on top of Jen’s sleeping body.  You wedge the door to the stall shut.  Hopefully no one will discover her until she wakes up later.  By then you should be in London.<br/>
<br/>
You catch sight of yourself in the mirrors.  Your new face is beautifully made up, perhaps a little strong, but Jen has done a good job of concealing the effects of age.  The rest of your body shows its age more, little touches of fat showing here and there, things not quite as firm as they might have been in the past.  Jen wouldn’t have been your first choice, but she’ll do – you’re only going to be her for a little while.<br/>
<br/>
Workmanlike, you start donning Jen’s clothes.  You stuff those ample breasts into her bra, lifting them up and taking the weight off your back.  The panties and tights follow quickly.  With the tummy tucker in place, your new body shape looks svelte.  You turn left and right quickly, feeling how Jen’s persona admires the changes it makes.<br/>
<br/>
Now for the uniform itself. You start with the blouse, letting Jen’s memories guide you towards leaving the top button open.  The gap leaves a small window for your cleavage to peek through and another Jen memory prompts you that your breasts will jiggle nicely through it in the tight confines of the blouse.  The uniform skirt feels equally tight as you zip it up.  It’ll constrain your movement in a way you’re not used to, so you feel out through Jen’s memories:  small steps will help, it seems, especially once you get the heels on.  Then you tie the scarf into place, again relying on Jen’s memories to get it perfect.  Finally, you pull on the blazer, buttoning it closed.  You hadn’t noticed earlier, but there’s a little gold nametag pinned to it.  Gazing at it in the mirror, you still manage to read the reversed writing:  ‘Jennifer Moore – Senior Cabin Crew’.<br/>
<br/>
You let your ruby painted lips part and smile Jennifer’s smile.  <i>Perfect</i>.<br/>
<br/>
The other two attendants are still waiting outside the toilet.  Trish looks up as you exit and grab hold of Jen’s suitcase.  “About time,” she says sullenly.  “All fixed up,” she adds, causing a little tremor of jealousy to flare deep in Jen’s persona.  Trisha is a good ten years younger than Jen and it shows.<br/>
<br/>
“Actually Trish,” you reply, letting Jen’s feelings of scorn loose.  “I had a little toilet emergency that needed sorted.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, whatever,” replies Trisha, tousling her hair.  The word <i>bitch </i>bubbles to the top of your thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
The third attendant, the young man, rolls his eyes at this.  Jen’s memories tell you his name is Clive and she doesn’t get on well with him either.  “We don’t have time for this,” he says caustically.<br/>
<br/>
You look at your two new co-workers, momentarily disassociating yourself from Jen’s persona just to put down the bile she feels for them.  <i>Well</i>, you think, <i>this will be fun…</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You duck round the curtain and into the little service area between the first and economy class sections of the plane.  As the senior member of the cabin crew, Jen is in charge of the other too, even if they do make for recalcitrant underlings.  She usually selects herself to spend most of the flight looking after the first class section – that’s where the wealthy people are.  From your outsider looking in perspective, it seems a little tragic that you’ve just spent the last thirty minutes flashing your aging boobs at wealthy looking businessmen.<br/>
<br/>
Trisha glances in your direction as you draw the curtain back into place behind you.  Jen’s feelings towards her co-worker leave you on edge and you have to fight down the urge to be catty towards her.  “You know, I was just thinking Trish,” you begin, in a trying to be polite voice.  “Maybe you’d like to do first class this flight.”<br/>
<br/>
Trisha looks up at you, her eyes roving about your face as she tries to work out why you are giving up one of Jen’s jealously guarded privileges.  She doesn’t know that you’ve also spent the last half hour looking for Rick, and now you want to check the aft section of the plane.  It doesn’t surprise you that he wasn’t in first class.  Rick doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d willing part with more money than he needed to.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know,” Trisha replies, gesturing at what she was doing.  “I was kind of in the middle of something.”  <br/>
<br/>
You take a quick look at what she just indicating.  Jen’s memories tell you she’s clearly just pretending to work in order to take a quick break.  “I’d really owe you a big favour,” you add though gritted teeth.<br/>
<br/>
Trisha smiles like a cat.  “Oh all right then,” she answers, trying to sound like she’s only accepting grudgingly.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you,” you say, forcing a brittle smile, before squeezing past Trisha and into the aft section of the plane.<br/>
<br/>
You spot Rick almost instantly.  He’s right at the back of the plane in an aisle seat, struggling to make himself comfortable.  You suppress a grin, he’s sat himself as close to one of the emergency exits as possible.  You can’t go straight up to him, that would be too obvious.  Instead you pick your way down the aisle, stopping at several of the cramped seats along the way:  An old woman that needs help switching on the light above her, a boy of ten struggling to adjust his seat.  There’s a couple of men you stop at and bend over to talk to for no other reason than Jen would find them attractive – staying in character is important.<br/>
<br/>
Finally you reach Rick.  “Everything alright sir,” you ask politely.  He is unsuccessfully trying to stuff a small pillow behind his head.  “Let me sort that for you.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick looks at you suspiciously, but no more so than he does with everyone.  “Ok,” he says.  You lean over and adjust the pillow for him, causing your generous breasts to swing very close to his face.  You have to suppress Jen’s disappointment as he ignores them.  It’s not so much that she would ever be interested in Rick, just the complete lack of any reaction needles at her.<br/>
<br/>
“Is that better,” you ask.  Rick mumbles incomprehensibly, but judging by the way he’s no longer struggling to get comfortable, you assume the answer is yes.  “Perhaps I could get you a drink Mr Bredon.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick goes very, very still.  His eyes flick from side to side and he licks his lips.  Then he relaxes a little.  “When we get to London,” he says very quietly.  “You and I are going to have a little chat squirt.  I’ll be waiting for you in the arrivals area.”<br/>
<br/>
For a few seconds you consider denying his accusation, pretending not to understand what he’s talking about, but you stare into his eyes.  Rick might seem calm on the outside, but his eyes show a storm ready to break.<br/>
<br/>
“How could you tell,” you ask, whispering.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t make me say ‘but I never told you my name’ squirt,” hisses Rick.  “You’re in enough trouble already.”<br/>
<br/>
You stand up and walk stiffly back down the aisle.  Rick seems angry, and you feel more than a little guilty about your stupidity in following him onto the flight.  You resign yourself to taking your punishment on arrival.<br/>
<br/>
But if Kali can run away for a few days, why can’t you?</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221122121111221
author_id: imaj
title: Several Kinds of Idiocy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You doze fitfully in the passenger seat of the hire car.  Rick’s angry with you, you’re sure, but he’s restrained himself so far.  He’s only said a few words to you since you met him in the concourse at Heathrow Airport in London.  You glance at him with half eyes.  He’s focused on the road, seemingly marshalling his thoughts before talking to you.<br/>
<br/>
Dawn is starting to break, the half light spilling across the freeway Rick is driving along.  Traffic is light, at least in the direction you are heading, but the road leading back to London is busy already.  As the sky lightens, it’s getting harder and harder to sleep, despite how tired you feel.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you know why I’m annoyed at you,” asks Rick quietly.<br/>
<br/>
You yawn and stretch before settling yourself down in the passenger seat again.  “Because I didn’t go back to Kali’s apartment like I was told to,” you reply miserably in Jen’s voice.  You haven’t changed since leaving the airport, Rick insisted that you stay as you are.<br/>
<br/>
“That only a small part of it,” explains Rick, his eyes still firmly focused on the road.  “Doing what you’re told to is important.  Sometimes it’ll save your life, sometimes it’ll get you killed,” he adds grimly.  “You need to be able to tell the difference, and know when to act on your own initiative.   But that’s something experienced <i>Stellae </i>know how to do, not weeks old acolytes.  Otherwise we end up with squirts doing all kinds of stupid, stupid things.”  He turns his head from the road briefly enough to glare at you.  “Like this.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” you say in a very small, very quiet voice.<br/>
<br/>
“But that’s only part of it,” continues Rick, pushing hard on the gas as he overtakes a dawdling car.  “It’s the mess you’ve caused for this woman,” he explains, taking one hand off the wheel to gesture at you.  “You’ve left her stranded in America with no clothes, no passport…”  Rick sighs and shakes his head.  It probably isn’t a good idea mentioning that you left her the set of Kali’s clothes you had worn to the airport.  “Once you’ve finished with that face you’re going to take the time to mail everything you stole back to her, but not before you’ve put a sizeable chunk of cash into her bank account.”<br/>
<br/>
“How am I going to do that,” you whine.  “It’ll be traced back to me.  I don’t even have much money.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’ll do it in person, with cash,” explains Rick.  “And I’ll lend you the money.  You can work the debt off.”<br/>
<br/>
You sit in abject silence.  You don’t know what kind of work Rick has in mind for you, but you get the feeling it will not be pleasant.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re damned lucky, you know that,” he adds after a minute.<br/>
<br/>
“What? How?”<br/>
<br/>
“That Jen dame, she’d have been knocked out for about ten minutes, wouldn’t she,” asks Rick.  He doesn’t wait for an answer.  “So she wakes up ten minutes later, naked, wherever you left her.  What if she’d gone to security?  What if someone had found her?  You’d have a big security alert, planes grounded and people asking awkward questions like ‘how come you look exactly like her’.  Christ squirt, do you realise the level of paranoia that would have opened up?”<br/>
<br/>
“She didn’t wake up after ten minutes,” you reply, still in that quiet voice.<br/>
<br/>
“Say what?”<br/>
<br/>
“She didn’t wake up after ten minutes,” you repeat, a little louder.  You explain to Rick how you modified the sigil to extend the length of time Jen would be knocked out for.<br/>
<br/>
“Interesting,” says Rick to himself, nodding slightly.  He’s got that look on his face again, the one where he’s picking apart something or thinking it over.  Then it abruptly vanishes.  “You still got lucky squirt,” he says.  “Lucky that no one found her unconscious.  You know what makes me really angry though?”<br/>
<br/>
You do not, and you say as much<br/>
<br/>
“That you gave yourself away so easily on the plane.  Using my name, that’s a Rookie error,” he explains.  “I’d never have guessed otherwise.  Letting me get an eyeful of the goods was a nice touch, but you undid it all with my name.”  He sighs and shakes his head again.  “You got a lot of potential squirt, a hell of a lot of potential, but you’re gonna be playing for keeps once you make full member.  Mistakes like that are gonna get you killed.”<br/>
<br/>
You have no response to that.  The pair of you sit in awkward silence as Rick turns the hire car onto an offramp signposted ‘Oxford’.  “I’m sorry,” you eventually work up the courage to say.  “I’ve let you down.  What happens now?  Do I go back home?”<br/>
<br/>
Rick looks thoughtful as he turns the hire car onto another road.  “Nah, now you’re here it would do you good to see Margaret anyway.  She’ll know better than me what to do about your little adventure anyway.”  That sounds a little ominous and you squirm in the chair.  “What you said about putting the real Jen to sleep,” he continues, changing the subject.  “You changed the sigil to make it last longer?”<br/>
<br/>
“Um… yeah,” you reply, a little surprised at the change in topic.  “I sort of meditated and Sulva broke it down into bits for me.  I can show you the bit that knocks people out.”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe later,” replies Rick.  “I’m driving.”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh, ok.  Yeah, the bit that knocks people out.  I used Kali’s thoughts and memories to look at it.  When I did that I saw that it was designed to let you change the power level of it.  So you could send people to sleep for different lengths of time.”<br/>
<br/>
“Useful,” replies Rick monosyllabically.  “Worrying too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh…” you reply, not quite getting what Rick’s angling at.<br/>
<br/>
“Think about it squirt.  You’ve got a sigil that’s <i>designed </i>to be changeable,” explains Rick.  “But nobody can change it because you can’t copy the sigils from the <i>Libra</i>.  No one can, no one except you.”<br/>
<br/>
“What does that mean,” you ask nervously.<br/>
<br/>
“It means we’ve got another reason for you to speak to Margaret squirt.”<br/>
<br/>
You find yourself squirming in your seat again.  “What’s she going to do?”<br/>
<br/>
“Help you take a long hard look at yourself squirt, and you’re not gonna like what you see” explains Rick.  “I didn’t,” he adds so quietly that you can barely hear him.<br/>
<br/>
You find yourself thinking of the conversation Miko and Rick had back in Kali’s apartment.  The one about Kali seeing either Margaret or Edward.  Much as you have spent the last while feeling sorry for yourself, your suddenly find yourself feeling even more sorry for Frank.<br/>
<br/>
“What is it,” asks Rick, glancing at you.  “You got an odd look on your face.”<br/>
<br/>
“I was just thinking about Frank,” you explain, looking out the window.<br/>
<br/>
“Hmph,” snorts Rick.  “Yeah, compared to the cadet, you got it easy.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Rick shakes you awake.  You mumble incoherently as you stretch your arms and legs, hitting them off the roof and floor of the hire car respectively.  <i>That’s right</i> you remember, <i>we were driving to see Margaret Dillon</i>.  You blink a couple of times and crane your neck to look around.<br/>
<br/>
Rick has parked the car in the gravel driveway of a detached villa, set into its own ground, much like Blackwell’s house back in Saratoga Falls.  The comparison ends right there, because while Blackwell’s villa was an ugly, foreboding building, this villa is completely different.  It has a simple style, no fancy stonework and large windows to let the light in give it an airy appearance.  The garden is bright and well kept, and the front wall of the grounds is low.  The other buildings in the street look similar.<br/>
<br/>
Two other cars are parked in the driveway.  A small European compact with flanks emblazoned with the logo of the same car hire company that Rick  used.  The other is a sleek luxury saloon, its plates noticeably different from all the other cars you have seen on the roads here.<br/>
<br/>
“Looks like Margaret has guests,” says Rick and he gets out the car.  “Come on squirt.”<br/>
<br/>
You unbuckle the belt and climb out before fetching Jen’s suitcase from the trunk.  You’re stuck with her clothes for now.  The gravel in the drive crunches under your feet as you follow Rick to the door.  He looks around the door frame before pressing a button he finds set there.  Inside you can here a chiming sound.<br/>
<br/>
There is the sound of movement inside and then the thick door creaks slowly open.  Just beyond the threshold stands Kali, dressed in a simple bathrobe.  “Hello Rick,” she says with a wan smile.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali,” he replies.  “It’s good to see you here, really it is.”<br/>
<br/>
“Likewise,” she says without feeling before staring at you in some confusion.  “Who is this,” she asks Rick.  You watch as she thinks about it, and the pieces start to click into place in her mind.  “No…  Will?”  You smile goofily and nod.  “It wasn’t necessary to bring Will along Rick,” she says quietly, staring at the floor.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t,” replies Rick.  “Squirt took it upon himself to come out with me.  I figured it would be a good idea to introduce him to Margaret while he was here.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, she’s still sleeping right now,” explains Kali.  “Although I’m sure she’d love to meet Will later.”  Kali looks at you again.  “Speaking of sleep, you look like you are about to fall over child.  Were you not able to sleep on the flight over?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you say, stifling another yawn.  “This woman is a flight attendant,” you explain, gesturing at yourself.  “I had to do her job.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a long flight,” says Kali, nodding her head sagely.  “I don’t think we’d begrudge Will a couple hours of sleep before he meets Margaret, would we Rick?”<br/>
<br/>
“If he wants to,” says Rick with a shrug.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221112211221211112211
author_id: imaj
title: A Nightmarish Future
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Kali leads you up some stairs and into a small guest bedroom at the back of the house.  While she closes the curtains you set Jen’s suitcase down by an old fashioned looking wooden wardrobe and remove her blazer.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll come up to wake you in two or three hours,” says Kali as you settle onto the bed.  You are too tired to change, and just want to sleep.  Kali smiles and nods as you mumble your thanks.  You don’t even notice her exit, as you are already drifting away to sleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Rain beats down heavily, plastering your hair to your forehead and drenching your clothes, and it is <i>your </i>clothes for it seems you are back to yourself.  Whether that’s the original you or the flipped version you cannot tell, for there are no reflective surfaces nearby and the puddles on the ground are disrupted by the insistent patter of the rain.<br/>
<br/>
You seem to be standing in an empty parking lot.  Nearby, the bright neon lights of a seedy looking motel light up the night sky:  Bright pinks, blues and greens that are reflected on the wet ground.  Heavy clouds fill the sky, hiding Sulva from your vision.  In the distance you can see the headlights of passing cars as they travel along a highway.<br/>
<br/>
A car turns into the parking lot, bright beams of light illuminating its path as it slots into a space.  It is a futuristic looking thing – as if a car had somehow been melted into a smooth and indistinctive looking shape.  It skirts low to the ground and its wheels are hidden behind covers.<br/>
<br/>
You move closer to get a better look.  The wipers continue to batter away ineffectively, clearing the rain from the windshield.  There are two people inside it, and they pay you no attention as you press up against the passenger side window.<br/>
<br/>
“This place looks gross,” says the passenger in a distinct accent, a young woman, barely older than you are.  She has dark skin and an exotic cast to her features that mark her as foreign.  Her hair is an unruly mass of black waves.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s just for the night,” replies the driver.  He’s older, maybe in his mid thirties.  He’s handsome enough, although there is something naggingly familiar about his face.  The motels neon lamps leave his neat blond hair streaked with outlandish colours.  “We need to rest, at least for a while, before we move on.”  The driver sits silently for a handful of seconds.  “I’ll get us a room.”<br/>
<br/>
The driver opens the door and hikes his minimalist looking grey jacket over his head to protect himself from the rain.  He runs for the reception.  You consider following him, but decide instead to stay with the car, taking a closer look at the passenger.  She’s wearing a tee made of a strangely plastic looking white material, the colours from the signs run across it as she turns in the seat.  As you look closer, you realise she is crying – soft, long sobs that cause her lean body to heave.<br/>
<br/>
You walk around the car.  It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.  Kneeling down by the hood, you look at the plates.  They are dated fifteen years from now.<br/>
<br/>
You don’t have time to think about that.  The driver runs back out from the reception and opens the passenger side door.  “I got us a room Vidya,” he says.<br/>
<br/>
The passenger stays in her seat.  “One room, to share,” she asks miserably.  “I know what they say about you.”<br/>
<br/>
The driver shrugs.  “It’s all true,” he sighs.  “I’ve got a limited amount of cash left, so one room it is.  I don’t want to use my credit card, and in any case I think the <i>Stellae </i>one has been stopped.  Now it’s raining <i>very heavily</i> out here and I’d like to get inside before I have to add pneumonia to my list of worries.”  The driver breaks out into a weak smile.  “I have enough worries as it is.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok then,” says the passenger, Vidya.  She doesn’t sound entirely convinced, but rather as if she is conceding the point out of necessity.  Vidya climbs out of the car and dashes for the shelter of the motel, leaving the door open behind her.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah thanks,” shouts the driver.<br/>
<br/>
“Close it yourself Joe,” comes Vidya’s voice from over by the motel.<br/>
<br/>
And it strikes you.  The driver <i>is </i>Joe.  If the car is fifteen years into the future then this must be Joe fifteen years into the future.  You recognise now his face, just filled out a little by adulthood.  Joe closes the passenger door before running over to join Vidya.<br/>
<br/>
You follow.  Even standing right next to them as Joe unlocks the door to the room, neither notice you.  You are able to slip between them as they enter.  It’s as if you have wrapped them in your cloak, although you do not remember using it, nor can you sense its presence.<br/>
<br/>
Vidya closes the door and turns on the light.  “I was right, this place is gross,” she says surveying the room.<br/>
<br/>
Joe shrugs off his soaking jacket and sits on the bed wordlessly.  He stares at the floor with vacant eyes.  Vidya sits next to him clasping her hands between her thighs.  “I know,” she says quietly, tears brimming in her eyes again.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali,” says Joe mournfully.  “Rosalie, Ed, all dead.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why is this happening,” says Vidya quietly, her head bowed.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali had been dead for weeks when I found her,” says Joe quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Vidya’s head jerks upwards sharply.  “But…  But that’s impossible,” she stammers.<br/>
<br/>
“Because we both spoke to Kali this morning,” says Joe, raising his own head too.  “It wasn’t her.  They looked like Kali, they spoke like Kali and they acted just like Kali would.  Perfectly so.”<br/>
<br/>
“How is that even possible,” interrupts Vidya.<br/>
<br/>
“There are ways to impersonate people,” explains Joe.  “But to do it so completely and perfectly, I can only think of three ways to do it, and two of them are locked up out of reach in the <i>Stellae </i>archives.”<br/>
<br/>
“So the imposter used the third way,” asks Vidya.<br/>
<br/>
“The imposter <i>is </i>the third way,” say Joe morosely.  “Will Prescott.”  You freeze at the mention of your name, but Joe continues talking.  “There’s no easy way to say this, but he’s one of us, one of the <i>Stellae</i>.  Or he was anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
“What are you talking about Joe,” you ask, shouting your question.<br/>
<br/>
“He went missing a couple of years ago,” continues Joe, oblivious to your intervention.  “I guess he’s back.”<br/>
<br/>
“But why,” asks Vidya, her expression fraught.  “Why do this if he’s a Stellae.”<br/>
<br/>
“He isn’t, not anymore,” says Joe unhappily.  “He’s fallen, gone retrograde.”  Joe’s face goes white.  “Taken Nibiru as an <i>ousiarch</i>,” he adds shocked.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali never mentioned such a planet.”<br/>
<br/>
“She wouldn’t.  We don’t talk about it,”  says Joe.  He seems to be holding back tears himself now.  “Nemesis, the dark planet:  Pride, conceit and tyranny.  There’s no other way he could have taken out three powerful <i>Stellae </i>otherwise.  And why did he do this?  I think he wanted you.”<br/>
<br/>
Vidya sits in shocked silence.  “What…” she stammers.  “Why me?”<br/>
<br/>
“The next stage of your training,” explains Joe.  “You were going to come work with me and John Reilly in the archives.  I think he planned to kill and replace you.  And I’d have taken him straight to the archives without realising,” he adds, staring at his feet again.  “He doesn’t know where they are, you see.  One of the first things Rosalie did when Dad picked her as his successor was move the archives.  Only a few of us know the new location, she excluded herself.  She’s a cagey one.  Was a cagey one…“ he corrects himself, trailing off.<br/>
<br/>
“But why are they so important,” asks Vidya.<br/>
<br/>
“They don’t just contain the knowledge and history of the order,” replies Joe.  “But also every artefact we’ve made safe:  The <i>Calice de Ténèbres</i>, the <i>Libra Personae</i> and Efnysien’s vessel and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”<br/>
<br/>
“I would have it all,” you whisper, realising your future self’s motivations.<br/>
<br/>
“He would have it all,” echoes Joe.  “And you don’t realise how frightening that is.  Some of the things in there have been locked away with good reason.”<br/>
<br/>
Vidya lifts herself from the bed and paces around the room a couple of times.  She turns to face Joe  “You said he would have replaced me,” she asks nervously.  “He could do that?”<br/>
<br/>
“He can replace anyone,” explains Joe.  “His gifts make him the perfect imposter.”<br/>
<br/>
Vidya nervously edges towards the door.  “But he could be anyone,” she begins, her voice rising, panic in her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Not me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” says Joe with a wan smile.  “If he’d gotten to me, he’d already have found the location of the archives in my memory and be halfway there by now.  If that’s not enough, I think there’s one other way to tell.  Did Kali use any of her gifts in the last week?”<br/>
<br/>
Vidya stands stunned.  “Her gifts…” she stammers.<br/>
<br/>
“Powers, prodigies, something like that” explains Joe.  “Kali was able to summon Arbol’s fire,” he adds, swallowing visibly when he refers to Kali in the past tense.<br/>
<br/>
“No,I think,” says Vidya uncertainly.  “I’m sure.  Yeah, she just lectured me and led my meditation.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s because Kali’s <i>ousiarchs </i>were Arbol and Perelandra,” explains Joe.  “Prescott’s are Sulva and,” he hesitates again.  “Nibiru.  So he couldn’t use her gifts.”  Joe closes his eyes and concentrates.  A pair of sigils appear, one in each of his open hands:  Arbol and Viritrilbia.  “See.  I’m who I say I am,” he smiles weakly again.<br/>
<br/>
Vidya visibly sags with relief.  “Thank you,” she replies.  “What,” she adds, noticing Joes expectant look.<br/>
<br/>
“You too,” he replies.<br/>
<br/>
Vidya closes her eyes and holds her palms out upturned.  She frowns with concentration and you’re not sure if its panic or lack of practice that slows the appearance of the sigils in her hands.  They waver indistinctly, impossible to read.<br/>
<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122112212111122111
author_id: imaj
title: A Nightmarish Future, part 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The sigils in Vidya’s hands waver one last time and resolve themselves into something solid:  Viritrilbia and Kenadandra.  She holds them therefore a few seconds before letting them dissipate.  Then Vidya opens her eyes and mops her brow with the back of her hand.<br/>
<br/>
“And you are who you say you are,” says Joe with a fragile looking smile.  “This is what Prescott’s done to us:  Reduced to not even trusting people are who they appear to be.”  He shakes his head unhappily.<br/>
<br/>
“What do we do now,” asks Vidya uncertainly.<br/>
<br/>
Joe looks at the ceiling nervously.  “We get help,” he replies unhappily.  “This is too big for me.  It might be too big for all of us, but who else is there…” he trails off and stares straight ahead, his eyes unfocussed.  “We can’t go to John,” he says to himself.  “If Prescott’s following us that just leads him where he wants to go.  We have to go to Rick, no one knows Prescott better, and Rick always could spot him.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t want this to happen,” you whine, but Joe cannot hear you.<br/>
<br/>
“Who’s Rick,” interrupts Vidya, back to pacing again.<br/>
<br/>
“You haven’t met him yet,” states Joe.  “Another <i>Stellae</i>, an investigator.  He trained Prescott and frankly, that makes him the best hope we have.  I’ll phone him.”  He pauses.  “I’ll phone everyone that’s left,” Joe adds bitterly.  “They need to be warned.”<br/>
<br/>
Vidya stops pacing, her face pale.  “Oh gods,” she mutters.  “What if <i>he’s</i> already phoned everyone.”  Joe looks confusedly at her for a moment.  “He could be Rosalie and tell the other <i>Stellae anything</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
Joe thinks it over for a second.  “No,” he replies, trying to sound confident.  “The logical thing for Prescott to do would be to try and keep what’s happened quiet.  He got Rosalie and Ed so easily because their guard was down.  They weren’t expecting him.  If he draws attention to what’s happened the rest of us will be ready for him.  Even with…  with Nibiru that makes it much harder for him.  He’d also run the risk of Rick working out the truth.”<br/>
<br/>
“If you’re sure,” says Vidya, making it clear that she isn’t.<br/>
<br/>
“I am,” replies Joe, picking up the phone by the bed.  He starts dialling a number.  “I’ll make the call now.”<br/>
<br/>
Vidya sighs.  “I’m going to take a shower, ok?  I need to relax.”<br/>
<br/>
Joe nods and Vidya makes for the en suite  bathroom.  Even though you’d like to listen to what Joe has to say to Rick, you feel compelled to follow Vidya.  It’s almost as if you know that you’ll learn more that way.  She doesn’t notice that you push the door open ahead of her, but simply closes and locks it once she has entered.<br/>
<br/>
The bathroom isn’t big, in fact with you and Vidya in it, there isn’t much room to move.  There’s a cubicle shower, a toilet, a sink and a rack of dirty looking towels.  A frosted glass window has been opened wide to let the air in, causing little drops of rain to splash off the inner windowsill.  Vidya holds one of the towels in her hand as she examines it before sighing with disgust and closing the window.<br/>
<br/>
She peels off the plastic like tee she’s wearing, revealing that she isn’t wearing a bra.  Not that she needs to.  Her figure is lean, bony even and you can clearly make out her ribcage.  Vidya produces a hair tie from one of her pockets and pulls her mass of inky curls up, tying it in place.  The she kicks off her shiny white sneakers and pulls down her tight jeans.  You look away as she pulls down her panties.<br/>
<br/>
That’s when you see him.<br/>
<br/>
It’s you, the mirror flipped version.  He looks older certainly, but not as much older as Joe does, perhaps a consequence of spending so much time in other faces.  He’s lurking in one of the corner of the bathroom – no wonder it felt so small, three people hardly leaves any room at all in the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
“Can’t you see him,” you ask Vidya.  She ignores you.<br/>
<br/>
You realise why she can’t see him.  The other you must have wrapped her in his cloak.  You open your senses and feel for it.  It’s wrapped tightly round her, trailing back to the other you.  As you look in his direction the other you looks directly back and winks.<br/>
<br/>
Shivers run down your spine.  You want to run, or wake up, or whatever will let you escape from this place but you are rooted to the spot.  You can do nothing but watch as Vidya examines herself in the mirror.  She turns from side to side, then looks down at herself and sighs unhappily.  Then she turns to reach inside the cubicle and turn the shower on.<br/>
<br/>
The other you simply watches as Vidya steps inside the shower.  He sighs wistfully, then very slowly and very quietly he starts speaking.  “I remember, a long time ago, that I dreamed this moment,” he begins.  “And I remember dreaming that I heard myself say these words, even as I’m speaking them just now.  I remember that I had a lot of questions, but that there only one that got answered.  The answer is ‘because I can, and because I want to show Joe that I can outsmart him’.  So if you really are standing here, dreaming all this, there you go.  The rest of the answers you will have to find out for yourself, because we are out of time.”<br/>
<br/>
Vidya opens the shower door and steps back out, water running down her body.  She reaches out for a towel but never makes it.  The other you steps smartly forward and thrusts a glowing hand onto the centre of her chest.  To your surprise she doesn’t collapse to the floor, but rather stands frozen in place.  Then she starts shrinking, slowly at first, but then more and more rapidly.  Her feet dangle in the air as they pull upwards.  Within mere seconds, the other you is holding onto a doll, no more than nine inches tall, where Vidya once stood.<br/>
<br/>
The other you stuffs the doll behind the towel rack and starts stripping of quickly.  His clothes join the doll behind the towel rack as well and in less than a minute he stands naked.  Seeing your own, albeit older, body naked is unsettling, but that discomfort does not last long.  The other you shivers and his form shifts to that of Vidya.  She smirks unpleasantly, then that conceited expression vanishes, replace by the haggard and dispirited look that Vidya has had since your first saw her.<br/>
<br/>
The fake Vidya carefully selects the least dirty looking towel from the rack.  She examines it, duplicating perfectly the disgusted look the original showed not a few minutes early, and then starts towelling herself down.  Then she gets dressed in a workmanlike fashion.  No time wasted, examining herself or taking pleasure in her stolen body, the fake Vidya simply redresses without thinking.  Exactly the way you imagine a young woman on the run would.  She glances in your direction as she walks out of the bathroom, but apart from that there is no little slip in character that would suggest she was anyone other than who she appears to be.<br/>
<br/>
As you follow her back into the motel room you feel conflicted.  This other you, the fake Vidya is skilled with their prodigies.  Unlike you, they’ve learned to use them without little giveaways and tells.  In some way, this is what the <i>Stellae, </i>your teachers, want you to become – a perfect imposter.<br/>
<br/>
But the other you is also a monster, a murderer with a twisted morality.  Is that a consequence of your prodigies?  <br/>
<br/>
Time seems to trickle to a halt as Joe puts the phone back down.  He is turning, slowly turning to face the fake Vidya, a weak smile starting to grow in his face in inch by agonising inch.<br/>
<br/>
The fake Vidya is walking towards Joe, moving at a glacial pace.  She has a brittle smile too, but it’s fake.  It hides a real smile, gloating in your other self’s moment of triumph.<br/>
<br/>
The dream grinds to a halt.  Neither Joe nor the fake Vidya move any further.  Is there something you can do?  Something you should do?  Joe will not be able to hear any warning you give him, but what else can you do?<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221122121111221111
author_id: imaj
title: A Taste of Home
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“No,” you yell, sitting bolt upright, reaching out with your hand to try and warn Joe.  “No!”<br/>
<br/>
You realise you are back in the guest bedroom in Oxford,  Kali is sitting on the side of the bed, looking a you with honest concern.  “Everything is alright child,” she says, taking your hand and holding it comfortingly.  “You’re safe, here with me.  I came back up to wake you and you were thrashing in your sleep.  Did you have a bad dream?”<br/>
<br/>
“Something like that,” you say, calming down.  You take a moment to wipe the sweat from your face with one hand.  <br/>
<br/>
Kali gets up and starts opening the curtains.  “I suppose that your dream journal is still back in my apartment,” she asks, pulling back one long heavy curtain and securing it in place in a hook.  You nod an affirmative.  “I’m sure there will be a notebook somewhere in the house that you could use,” she continues kindly.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you want to know what it was about,” you ask nervously.  “It was a little…  I don’t think…”<br/>
<br/>
“You could tell me about it,” interrupts Kali, seemingly ignoring your protests.  “But now that you’re <i>here</i>, it would be far better if you told Margaret.”  You stare at her dumbfounded.  The idea of sharing what you’ve just dreamt with a stranger horrifies you.  “Margaret is my old teacher child.  She knows far more about interpreting dreams than I do and is a psychologist by training.  She used to work at the university here.”  Great, that’s all you need – someone poking around inside your head and deciding it means you want to sleep with your mother.  Evidently you let your distaste show on your face because Kali laughs nervously.  “Relax child, Margaret will only want to help you.  Besides,” she adds, her expression suddenly more serious.  “I think it will be a while before I am ready to teach you again.”<br/>
<br/>
You stare at Kali, this time in puzzlement.  Then you remember:  The note she left in her apartment.  “Oh,” you say quietly.  “Seattle…”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” replies Kali quietly, her hands clasped to her chest.  You both stand unmoving and silent for a few seconds.  “Well, I shall go and make breakfast,” she eventually says.  “You should change and come downstairs child.  I think you will be able to find your way to the kitchen easily,” she adds, grinning slightly.  With that, she leaves you alone in the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
She’s right about getting changed.  Jen’s uniform, which you went to sleep in only a few hours ago, it dripping with your sweat.  You find her suitcase and look inside it for a change of clothes.  After slipping into a pair of worn and comfortable jeans and loose fitting rollneck sweater, you head downstairs<br/>
<br/>
The kitchen is easy to find.  You follow the wafting smell of cooked food to a room at the back of the house.  The kitchen is simply furnished, but unlike the minimalist styling of Kali’s apartment, it is more rustic looking and old fashioned.  Kali is working at the cooker on one side of the room, fiddling with a series of pans that are the source of the wonderful smell.  <br/>
<br/>
You sit at the honey coloured wooden table in the centre of the room, opposite a bear of a man with a silver coloured beard.  He grins broadly at you and you smile nervously in return, bowing your head and staring at the surface of the table.  It is chipped and worn.<br/>
<br/>
Kali comes over and places a small notebook and pen beside you, nowhere near as fancy as the dream journal you left back in L.A..  You open it and start jotting the events of your dream before they fade from your memory. Kali returns to the cooker and continues to push the contents to the pans about.<br/>
<br/>
“So Kali, this is our new Sulva then,” says the man opposite you loudly.  He isn’t shouting, it just seems that his normal speaking voice is a bit louder than most other peoples’.  There’s an accent there too, one that sounds like it’s just walked out of a bad cold war era spy movie.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes Fyodor,” replies Kali with an exasperated sigh.  She doesn’t look up from the cooking food.  “This is Will Prescott.  And Will, this is Fyodor Chernomyrdin.”<br/>
<br/>
You look up at the hulking man again and smile weakly.  “She doesn’t look like much of a Will, unless this is one of those decadent imperialistic western names,” he smiles very broadly back at you and winks.<br/>
<br/>
“That isn’t funny Fyodor,” says Kali, sighing again, more loudly this time.  “He’s too young to understand what passes for your sense of humour.”<br/>
<br/>
“<i>He </i>is too <i>young</i>,” says Fyodor incredulously.  “Neither of those two words are correct Kali.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nevertheless they are Fyodor,” explains Kali, still paying more attention to the cooking food than the boisterous man in front of you.  “One of Will’s prodigies is a form of shapeshifting.”<br/>
<br/>
“A shapeshifter, huh,” says Fyodor, leering at you.  “I have these pictures of some lovely young women, I wonder if you could…”<br/>
<br/>
“Fyodor,” interrupts Kali angrily.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m just joking with my new friend here,” protests Fyodor, grinning cheekily at you.  He winks at you again.  “It is good to meet you Will.  I am sure your skills will prove a valuable addition to the order.  You and Rick should work very well together.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know about Rick,” you ask, your voice quavering.<br/>
<br/>
“Well I did see him earlier,” grins Fyodor.  “That and Charles conferred with me over your assignment.”  He laughs uproariously.  “Oh you look like a stuck pig Will Prescott.  You should lighten up, life is short.”  Fyodor slams the table with his hand, jolting it and sending your pen skittering across the notebook.<br/>
<br/>
“Quite,” mutters Kali, spooning the contents of the pans onto plates.  “Fyodor, perhaps you could take Margaret her breakfast?”<br/>
<br/>
“But of course Kali,” he replies, putting his big hands on the table and levering himself to his feet.  You let out a little gasp as you see he is well over six feet tall.  “Allow me,” he adds, picking up the tray that Kali has set one of the plates on.  Then he leaves by the door you came in by.<br/>
<br/>
“He certainly seems….” You begin.<br/>
<br/>
“Shall we say ’larger than life’,” offers Kali.  “If you are wondering why Charles discussed you with Fyodor, well let me explain child.  Fyodor is Charles’ lieutenant, you might even say deputy.  A lot of the older <i>Stellae </i>were surprised when Alexandre Sable chose Charles as his successor as leader of the order, especially since Fyodor had directly apprenticed under Alexandre during the war.  Nevertheless, Fyodor has been a loyal aide and confidant for Charles ever since.”<br/>
<br/>
“Which war,” you ask, putting your pen down.<br/>
<br/>
“The Second World War, but for heavens sake child, do not ask him about it,” answers Kali.<br/>
<br/>
“Was it that bad,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“Very much so, but do you think that would stop him telling you about it,” asks Kali.  You shake your head, Fyodor clearly carries his good humoured nature with him, and you suspect it would act as a shield against the horrors he might have encountered.  “Exactly.  It would take all day, and some parts of it would likely make you quite ill,” she adds placing a plate in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
“Is he a Glundandra then,” you ask as Kali places knives and forks round the table.<br/>
<br/>
“Well guessed child,” she replies, sitting next to you with a plate of her own.  “He would not have been considered for leadership of the <i>Stellae </i>otherwise.  His other ousiarch is <i>Kenadandra</i>.”  You pause suddenly, a piece of greasy looking fried egg halfway to your mouth.  The mention of Kenadandra suddenly reminding you of Vidya from your dream earlier.  “As a leader, he is utterly focussed on the needs of those in his care and exhorts them to bring out the best of themselves by working hard.  He also got bought your breakfast for you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Huh,” you mumble in between mouthfuls.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, he was in Glasgow yesterday on business.  He knew I was going to be here, so he brought a taste of home back down for me,” explains Kali in a wistful tone.<br/>
<br/>
“I was wondering why you never made stuff like this back in L.A.,” you reply.  You look at the plate.  Eggs and bacon are the most recognisable foodstuffs, although the bacon is a different cut than what you are used to.  There’s a wrinkled looking red thing that might be what a tomato looks like after spending too long in a frying pan.  A flat pink squarish shape of indeterminate meat and two black circular things nestle next to each other.  A golden brown and very flat quarter circle shaped piece of food is soaking up the running egg yolk.  “Is there anything here that isn’t fried,” you ask.  The whole plate is swimming in grease.  “Oh, there’s a slice of toast.”<br/>
<br/>
“Actually, that’s fried bread,” laughs Kali gently.  “This is comfort food Will, just like my mother used to make on a Sunday morning before kirk.  Good for the soul.”<br/>
<br/>
You cut away a small portion from one of the black circular bits of food, and lift it to your mouth.  It almost goes splattering back out across the table, but you manage to chew it slowly and eventually swallow.<br/>
<br/>
“Some of it might be an acquired taste,” admits Kali, looking at your face.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” you blush.  You tear into the rest of the plate, wolfing the contents down.  Kali is right, once you’ve worked out which bits you don’t want to eat, the rest of the food does feel comforting.  You relax and push your mostly cleared plate to the slide and continue to write up your dream in the notebook.<br/>
<br/>
Kali looks across from her own meal, which is only half finished.  “Shall I take you to speak to Margaret once I’m finished,” she asks. </span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221112211221211112211111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Dream Dissected
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Kali ushers you into a very small and dark and low-ceilinged room lined with bookshelves. The windows are small and entirely muffled by thick curtains. The only light in the room comes from the fireplace. It is almost unbearably warm, and the atmosphere is so thick you can hardly breathe. Your eye darts nervously to the ceiling, for you almost have the impression that is dropping toward you, and the walls seem to close in.<br/>
<br/>
There are a few high-backed armchairs, one of which dwarfs the tiny woman sitting in it with her feet dangling above the dark rugs. She is possibly the oldest-looking person you have ever seen, with a face so wrinkled and wizened and mottled with spots that it scarcely looks human, or even animal; the unkind thought forms that her face looks more like a withered apple. She hardly has a nose anymore, and what's left of it supports immense spectacles that magnify her eyes like saucers. Those eyes are dark and flat in color and aspect, like lead. Her hands, you notice, are very large and bony, and in one of them she feebly grasps a pencil, though she has no paper.<br/>
<br/>
Kali coughs politely. “Margaret, this is Will, my new acolyte,” she says.<br/>
<br/>
The old woman's eyes shift slightly, and you feel as though she is staring right through you as you stagger into an empty seat opposite, and you don't so much sit as you let your legs buckle. "Ma'am," you stammer, and try to clear your throat of the quaver. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Will." Sweat breaks out all over your scalp; your back already feels drenched with perspiration from the close heat, but this now feels more like nerves. Kali has already introduced you, so why are you introducing yourself again? "Will Prescott," you add.<br/>
<br/>
You look nervously over at Kali, who has herself stumbled into a chair between you and Margaret Dillon. You swallow, and fidget your hands. "I, um, I came out with Rick. I wasn't supposed to," you find yourself blurting out. "He told me to stay behind, in the States, but--" <br/>
<br/>
But what? Why did you come?<br/>
<br/>
"Will has only been with us for a few weeks," Kali says, coming to your aid. "But he's already helped us. Immensely. He saved Frank--Giuseppe, you know--from a very bad fate. He's ambitious, and likes to help by using his gifts."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are your ousiarchs, Will?" Margaret says, finally speaking. Her voice is very dry and very quiet, almost a whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"Sulva," you say. "Everyone says Sulva, and I've meditated--Kali's really helped me a lot--" Your words seem to tumble all over each other in a disordered state. "So I know Sulva is one." You look over at Kali. "No one seems to be able to figure out my other one."<br/>
<br/>
"The signs are indeterminate," Kali says, sounding a little defensive. "I have tried several times to pin it down, and even Joe--Franz--"<br/>
<br/>
The pencil shifts fractionally in Margaret's hand, and Kali abruptly shuts her mouth. "Sulva," Margaret says softly. "You like to travel, Will."<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't sound like a question, but you can't help gainsaying her. "No, not especially. I mean, I've done a lot of it recently. Moving out to LA, coming here--" You gasp at the way you've boxed yourself back into the question of why you came out here. "But I don't … like … to travel."<br/>
<br/>
"Rick's compared him to a squirrel," Kali murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
Margaret's eyes briefly close, and they are slightly softer when she opens them again. "I see. Do you travel in your dreams?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, when I meditate I seem to--" You suddenly realize she is alluding to the dream you had this morning. "I had a dream this morning, after I got here and fell asleep."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not unusual," Kali says softly. "In this house." She looks over at her old teacher. "Maybe you could, or you would want to--" She takes a deep breath. "Help him with it."<br/>
<br/>
"You're his teacher," Margaret says.<br/>
<br/>
Kali's shoulders sag. "I'm not sure I'm ready to do this again," she says nervously.<br/>
<br/>
Margaret says nothing, and fire crackles in the silence. Kali's face sags into an expression of misery, but she finally rallies, and calmly lifts her eyes to yours. "Begin, Will," she says in quiet and clear voice. "Tell us your dream."<br/>
<br/>
You never forget that morning. "I dreamed I was in the future," you say. "It was raining, and I saw a car." Not once do you consult your own notes, and details you'd forgotten flare out, even if you can't put them into words, and the scenes you witnessed seem to play out before your eyes again, there in the dark. As you speak, the atmosphere in the room becomes thicker and harder, pressing in on you. Your ribs creak as your breath rises and falls, and a terrific pressure closes about your temples. But your words flow out easily if a little thickly, and though the narrative is terrible and you stumble at worst points, you feel temporary respites each time you pass them. "And then I yelled, to warn Joe," you finish quietly. "That's when I woke up."<br/>
<br/>
The thick air doesn't dissipate, but all the pressures that had closed about you relax. You feel empty but at peace.<br/>
<br/>
No one says anything for several long minutes before Margaret speaks. "These are your own prodigies you witnessed yourself performing?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Well, mostly. What I-- What the older me did to Vidya isn't something I can do. At least, not yet." You look over at Kali. "Something like it is in the book--"<br/>
<br/>
"The Libra Personae," Kali says. "Will is entangled with it, and many of his prodigies recapitulate spells it contains. We have been careful about exploring them."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to do anything like that," you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
Margaret's brow is so wrinkled it is hard to tell, but you think it furrows a little. "You do not wish to have these prodigies?"<br/>
<br/>
What a miserable question. "I don't know," you admit. "I know I don't want to do anything like what I saw. Not to people I know and … and like. I want to be a Stellae," you say with sudden force. "I want to work with Joe, and with Frank and Rick and Miko and Kali. I want to use them to do the things that they do, and to help them do them." You let your head fall back against the chair, and groan. "I want them to be happy with me, and happy to see me. I don't want them to be afraid of me. Or to hate me. Or--" You swallow as you think of Rick glaring at you. "Or to be angry with me. Rick's angry with me," you add, though you didn't mean to say so. "Because I disobeyed him."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" Margaret's question is so quiet you're not sure she even spoke.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Maybe I do like my prodigies. Maybe I wanted to use them. Maybe--" You feel a sharp pain in your chest. "Maybe I wanted to show him that I could … that I could follow him."<br/>
<br/>
Margaret's gaze is unwinking. She is not impressed by the "maybes".<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to show him," you quietly say, and again it feels like a relief to speak so clearly about something you didn't want to voice. "I wanted to show him, the way the other me in the dream wanted to show Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"An anxiety dream," Kali murmurs after another long pause. "Not unusual under the circumstances. And the sort of thing we might have expected you to suffer under this roof. I think it actually speaks well of you, Will, that--"<br/>
<br/>
Again, the pencil shifts in Margaret's hand, and again Kali abruptly stops speaking. The two women are silent, and then Margaret stretches her free hand toward the other, groping weakly. Kali takes her hand, and they clasp. Margaret closes her eyes and ducks her head, and Kali does the same. Margaret's lips work soundlessly, but her breathing becomes raspy.<br/>
<br/>
They hold this attitude for so long that you wonder if you should steal away to leave them alone. But you remain where you are. The air hasn't lightened any, but maybe you've acclimated, for you no longer feel so oppressed, and you've even stopped sweating. You don't know why, but you feel far better for having sat in this room. But you don't think you want to go through this sort of thing again. And this was only you sharing a dream. You almost break out in a new sweat to imagine what Frank would have to go through if he came here with the guilt of what he had done back in Saratoga Falls.<br/>
<br/>
A quarter hour passes, and soon you're bored. You look down at the notes you took, and though the horror is gone from them, they still cause you discomfort. And you notice one detail you'd somehow omitted from your recital: Nibiru. What is that?<br/>
<br/>
Margaret and Kali lift their heads; your own teacher looks very relieved herself. "Thank you, Will," she says, and you notice the use of your own name instead of the more familiar "child." "We can leave Margaret now."<br/>
<br/>
"I do have one question," you say as you get up. "I forgot to mention it, but in the dream Joe said something about me taking Nibiru as an ousiarch. Which planet is that?"<br/>
<br/>
Margaret's expression doesn't change, but the pencil snaps in her hand.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122112212111122111112
author_id: imaj
title: In the Garden
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stand up from the chair.  For a few seconds you think about somehow getting finding out about Nibiru.  You could take the information about Nibiru directly from Margaret’s head, but the urge passes as quickly as it came upon you.  Not following instructions, that’s what got you in trouble in the first case.  After the discomfort of the last half an hour, you are anxious to leave in any case.<br/>
<br/>
Kali lingers as you walk out of the library with your head bowed.  You consider eavesdropping through the door, but that would be just as bad as if you’d stayed hidden in the room.  In any case, the door is heavy and it would be hard enough to hear Kali through it, let alone Margaret.<br/>
<br/>
Your notions of somehow listening in on the two women are finally dispelled when Fyodor puts a friendly arm around your shoulder.  “Ah my new friend,” he says loudly, loud enough, you think, to be heard on the other side of the door.  “How was your meeting with Margaret,” he adds, guiding you away from her room.  His grip is almost crushing and you wonder if he doesn’t know his own strength.<br/>
<br/>
“It was uh…”  You search for a word that best describes the grilling she gave you.  Is there some kind of confidentiality thing like with doctors, you wonder.  “Helpful,” you eventually settle on.<br/>
<br/>
Fyodor laughs loudly.  “Yes, Margaret is very helpful.  She helped you realise something, no?”  You grimace a little as you remember what it felt like in the library.  “You certainly look like someone Margaret’s helped,” he grins widely.  “Come, we’ll take a walk in the garden.”<br/>
<br/>
Fyodor doesn’t look like he’ll take no for an answer, and you doubt you could break out of his iron grip.  You let him guide you out the back of the house and onto a well tended lawn which stretches back several metres.  Fyodor releases his grip and you almost stumble to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
“The fresh air does you good, no,” booms Fyodor.  “I find Margaret a bit grim, and I grew up in the Russia,” he laughs.  “But her garden is beautiful.”  You look around and have to agree with him.  Even in fall, Margaret’s garden is splashed with colour.<br/>
<br/>
“She did help me,” you admit.<br/>
<br/>
“In her way,” says Fyodor, slapping you in the back.  The force of the blow causes you to stumble forward a few steps.  “And now you’ve learned whatever important truth she drilled out of you, you are better for it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think so,” you say quietly.  “I mean, I want to master my prodigies, but…  Well I keep on making stupid, dangerous mistakes.  Getting involved with Blackwell, ending up inside the book, following Rick here.  One mistake after another,” you say dejectedly.<br/>
<br/>
Fyodor laughs again.  “Is that it,” he asks.  “Obviously you learn from your mistakes otherwise you wouldn’t be here.  I’ll tell you big secret my friend:  Everyone makes mistakes.”  Fyodor grins broadly again and indicates himself with a thumb.  “I make mistakes, you make mistakes even Margaret makes mistakes.  Learning from them is the trick.  You want me to tell you Margaret’s big mistake,” he says, leaning forwards and winking at you conspiratorially.<br/>
<br/>
You can only nod, caught up in Fyodor's exuberance.<br/>
<br/>
“She told one of her author friends all about the <i>Stellae</i>,” explains Fyodor.  “Ha, big laugh, but luckily no one reads the book anyway.  She’s in it too, you know, character called ‘Grace’, but it’s her.”  <br/>
<br/>
That surprises you, although you find yourself wondering if someday someone will write a story about you.  “It’s more than that,” you explain.  “I keep wondering if I’m, you know, evil.  All my prodigies seem evil, or have evil uses”<br/>
<br/>
Fyodor laughs again.  “Will, I grew up on a collective farm in the Volga Basin,” he begins.<br/>
<br/>
“This isn’t a war story, is it,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“Actually I have a lot of stories about the Great Patriotic War,” says Fyodor, his tone uncharacteristically wistful.<br/>
<br/>
“Only Kali said I wasn’t to ask you about it,” you continue.<br/>
<br/>
Fyodor looks hurt for the briefest of moments, but the expression is soon chased away by another wide smile.  “When I grew up they all told me that the people from your country were evil, but later on, during the war I found that they were just as human as me.  Will, I am strong enough to break every bone in your body, that’s Kenadandra’s gift to me, but I choose not to.  I choose to use my gifts to protect people.”  He grabs your shoulders and shakes you in a way he must imagine to be gently.  Your head rocks about violently until he stops.  “You will learn how to choose too.  It will be hard work, but everything worth doing is.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks, I think,” you say.  You consider mentioning Nibiru again, but decide against it.  Margaret just snapped a pencil, Fyodor could easily snap your neck.<br/>
<br/>
“Your welcome,” replies Fyodor before crushing you in a bear like hug.  You swear you hear a rib crack as you gasp for air.<br/>
<br/>
“If I can interrupt you two for a while,” says Kali, walking out onto the garden.  You would have to know Kali very well to spot the nervousness playing at the edges of her smile.  Having spent a day as her, you do know her well enough.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course,” replies Fyodor, releasing you.  You stagger backwards.<br/>
<br/>
“I owe you an apology Will,” she begins hesitantly.  “When I ran out on you, Rick and Miko back in L.A. it was partly because I didn’t think I was good enough to remain your teacher but…  Well, even if I stayed in L.A. and failed you in some way, it would still have been better than failing you by abandoning you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, so Margaret’s been helping both of you this morning,” says Fyodor with a somewhat subdued grin.<br/>
<br/>
“As she always does,” says Kali somewhat sorrowfully.  “It’s been decided that the next phase of your education will be here in Oxford with Margaret and myself,” she continues.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It’s been decided</i>, you think.  What an odd way to put it.  “So that means more sessions with Margaret,” you ask, fidgeting nervously.  “Is that necessary, I mean I’m fine, she totally helped me realise my problems this morning.”  Fyodor suppresses a laugh beside you.<br/>
<br/>
“Margaret thinks otherwise,” says Kali, she pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing.  “And I agree with her.  So yes, there will be sessions with Margaret and myself.  I will continue to lead your meditation of course.  Fyodor will be here too, although I’m not sure in what capacity he will aid your education.  I’ve yet to speak to Rick…”<br/>
<br/>
“This is bullshit,” you interupt, causing Kali to gasp in shock.  Your brain has finally caught up to the conversation and realised what that phrase <i>It's been decided</i> means.  “Margaret decided I have to stay here.  I saw how she reacted in the library.  She thinks I have to be watched,” you add angrily.<br/>
<br/>
“Reacted to what,” says Fyodor slowly.  Kali is still too stunned by your sudden outburst to respond.<br/>
<br/>
“Something that happened in the dream I had,” you explain, talking fast.  “Will someone please explain what’s so important about Nibiru that it means I have to stay here?”<br/>
<br/>
“You dreamt about Nibiru,” says Fyodor, clearly surprised.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes…”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” says Kali firmly.  “But in Will’s dream, his <i>nightmare</i>, it was mentioned.”  You don’t understand why Kali thinks the distinction is important.  “You can understand why Margaret was concerned.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” replies Fyodor.  “But I can also understand why my new friend Will is concerned too.  He needs to know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is that an order,” asks Kali very carefully.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course, not,” grins Fyodor, leaving you with the impression of a large, hungry bear.  “Charles put <i>you </i>in charge of Will’s training.”<br/>
<br/>
“He did, didn’t he,” sighs Kali.  “You’re putting me in an awkward position Fyodor.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will you please tell me Kali,” you interrupt.  “I need to know why it’s so important…” you trail off as a realisation hits you.  “You don’t need to tell me, do you,” you say quietly.  “I already know, because when I lifted your <i>imago </i>in L.A., I got some of your memories too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Better if it comes from you then Kali,” says Fyodor with a shrug.  </span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221122121111221111121
author_id: imaj
title: The Dark Planet
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I’ll tell you,” sighs Kali.  “You might well wish I hadn’t when I’m done, but Fyodor is right…”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m always right,” interrupts Fyodor.<br/>
<br/>
“If you know you’ll be better prepared.”  Kali walks you over to a bench at the back of the garden and bids you to sit.  She watches patiently as Fyodor returns to the house before speaking.  “I’ve taught you about the different <i>ousiarchs</i>, and how they relate to the planets of our solar system.  You know that every member of the <i>Stellae </i>has two.”<br/>
<br/>
“I only have one,” you interrupt.  “Sulva.”<br/>
<br/>
“We just haven’t identified your second <i>ousiarch </i>yet,” says Kali smoothly.  “You do have one, which I suppose is part of the problem.  There’s another <i>ousiarch </i>out there, the existence of which we can only infer.  We do not talk about often,” she explains ruefully. “If we don’t talk about it we can pretend it doesn’t exist.  For the most part it doesn’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“And that’s Nibru,” you say.  “But what do you mean it doesn’t exist?”<br/>
<br/>
“Because we’ve found no matching planet for it,” explains Kali.  “And because we have not found the planet it is a mystery to us.  For centuries we only <i>suspected </i>the existence of Catilindria and Kenadandra.  Without knowledge of their matching planets the behaviour of their colleagues under their influence mystified us, scared us even.  Can you imagine, Catilindriae like Miko without truly understanding their character, or why they behave that way.  Then Uranus was discovered and we realised exactly why they were as they are.  People like Miko are a valued part of the order today.”<br/>
<br/>
“You need to understand the planet to understand the <i>ousiarch</i>,” you ask.  It sounds more than a little confusing<br/>
<br/>
“It’s true,” answers Kali.  “As the scientists discover more and more about the planet, we also discover things that they don’t suspect, or realise to be relevant.  Nibiru remains undiscovered, and so we know very little about it.  Think on this Will:  Scientists are able to discover planets around suns far distant from our own, but they have yet to discover Nibiru.  It is hidden from us, and because it is hidden from us we sometimes refer to it as the dark planet.”<br/>
<br/>
“There is no easy way to explain this,” admits Kali after another pause to think.  “There are times when members of the <i>Stellae </i>go rogue.  We have a lot of words for that, like Fallen or Retrograde.”<br/>
<br/>
“Like in that story you wrote,” you interrupt.  “Lucio.”<br/>
<br/>
“Heavens Will,” says a shocked looking Kali.  “How do you know about that?”<br/>
<br/>
“It was in the recycling bin on your laptop,” you explain with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
“I see I still have a lot to learn about computers then,” replies Kali with the faintest of smiles.  “But as I said, we have a lot of words like Fallen or Retrograde.  Sometimes they can be redeemed, by people like Margaret or Ed, sometimes not, as in Lucio’s case.  Members who lose their way are incredibly rare though, but the worst of them…  The very worst of them, they all had Nibiru as an <i>ousiarch</i>.  In the context, the name ‘the dark planet’ seems strangely apt.”<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes almost pop at what you are witnessing.  Kali, gentle, calm, sympathetic Kali, is starting to bristle with anger.  Her words are forceful, her manner resolute.  “I told you that the order was millennia old, that it traced its roots back to ancient Babylon.  In the history of the <i>Stellae</i>, the number of times one of our order has fallen so far can be counted on the fingers of one hand.  I will not let it happen to one of my wards,” she states before leaning back on the bench.  The fires in her eyes dim and she is back to the Kali that you have known these short few weeks.<br/>
<br/>
It is at this point your brain catches up on the conversation again, as something she said minutes ago finally flags your attention  “Wait a minute,” your say.  “You said not knowing my second <i>ousiarch </i>was part of the problem.”  The gears of your mind finally tick into place.  “Margaret thinks my second <i>ousiarch </i>is Nib…  the dark planet, doesn’t she,” you angrily accuse.<br/>
<br/>
Kali places her hand at her collarbone again.  “She worries, or perhaps it is me that voices the worry and she gives life to it,” replies Kali, unable to quite meet your eyes.  “In truth your situation is quite unique.  That we have been unable to identify your second <i>ouisarch </i>is one part of it.  I would prefer to think that your second is unfixed and wanders between the other planets, rather than attribute some misunderstood notion of darkness to it.”<br/>
<br/>
“But there is also the way by which you came to us,” continues Kali.  “The <i>Stellae </i>tries to recruit members at a younger age, like it did with myself, Joe, Frank and Miko, before the world has too much of a chance to stain their character.  Some do join at an older age.  Fyodor, for example, was actually a little older when he joined, plucked straight from the ranks of the red army at Stalingrad by Alexandre Sable.  Remember not to ask him about it,” she smiles bleakly.  “But you…  You are both old and a one time apprentice of a warlock, another unusual occurrence.  There are some <i>Stellae </i>that would view such a background with askance,” she adds.<br/>
<br/>
“But I did the right thing in the end there,” you protest.<br/>
<br/>
“Indeed you did,” she replies warmly.  “And in doing so you saved both Frank and Joe, something which I am thankful for.  But that still leaves your link to the <i>Libra</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s always about the <i>Libra </i>you whine.”<br/>
<br/>
“We don’t know for sure who wrote the <i>Libra</i>,” explains Kali.  “Much of its history is shrouded, but John - that’s John Reilly, one of the order’s archivists – has his suspicions and even that took a lot of piecing things together and reading between the lines.  I confess that I asked him about it shortly before you arrived in L.A..”  Kali pauses for a few brief seconds.  “The author, the man John thinks was the author was one of the <i>Stellae</i>.  Nibiru was not one of his ousiarchs, at least not originally…” she trails off.<br/>
<br/>
“At least not originally,” you echo, the meaning of Kali’s words quickly becoming clear.<br/>
<br/>
“He was one of the handful that took the dark planet.  Now do you see,” she asks.  “Especially since his purpose in writing the book appears to have been to bring its readers to his viewpoint.  We all have to be mindful of our actions, but you will have to be doubly so.  I’m afraid that amongst all of us, you have been left particularly vulnerable to falling.”<br/>
<br/>
“I see,” you say bitterly.<br/>
<br/>
“There is still one piece of good news Will,” says Kali.  She looks directly into your eyes and smiles, that little action somehow making your situation seem less bleak.  “If there is anyone that can help you find it within yourself to stay true to the order, it’s Margaret.  That’s why it’s important that you stay here, to speak with her before…”<br/>
<br/>
Kali falls silent.  She is trembling and tears are forming in the corners of her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“She is dying Will and she doesn’t have long left.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
After the revelations of the morning, the rest of the day passes by in a mundane blur.  As promised, Rick takes you to a nearby bank where you pay in, in cash, an eye popping sum to Jen’s account to compensate for the mess you have left her in.  You’ve no idea how long it’s going to take to pay Rick back, but since he continues muttering about it “not being nearly enough” as you leave, you resolve to stay quiet on the matter.<br/>
<br/>
By the time you return to Margaret’s house you find Fyodor has somehow acquired clothes in your own size, that is to say the size of the <i>real </i>you.  You do worry briefly about owing him money too, but with a characteristic grin, he waves off any offer of payment.<br/>
<br/>
Rick leaves shortly before dinner, announcing that he’s going to sort out the mess you made in travelling to England.  He does add that he will return within a couple of days to continue your practical training.  Kali confides in you that he wants to be away from Margaret’s house for a while.  For all that he’s still angry, you fervently wish you could go with him.<br/>
<br/>
The evening is taken up with meditation exercises led, as promised, by Kali.  Although Sulva offers you no new insights or gifts, Kali is still pleased with the progress you have made in her absence.  It is with a sense of quiet satisfaction that you finally fall over into bed at the end of the day and drift into a mercifully dreamless sleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Kali ushers you back up to Margaret’s library after breakfast the following morning.  You can’t help but hesitate as you grasp the door handle.  Yesterday’s experience with Margaret isn’t something you are keen to repeat, and certainly not so soon, but you have no choice.<br/>
<br/>
Kali looks at you expectantly, she’s waiting till you go in before attending to whatever it is she needs to do.  Now that you know the full truth about Nibiru, you feel you need her support more than ever.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221112211221211112211111212
author_id: imaj
title: The Second Session
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Come in with me Kali,” you ask nervously.<br/>
<br/>
She looks surprised for a moment, her hand at her collarbone again, her eyes wide.  Then she relaxes again.  “If that’s what you want Will,” she says smoothly.<br/>
<br/>
The library is just as you left it yesterday, and every bit as oppressive.  It almost feels like you have to push through the cloying air and it is with a great relief as you sink into one of the high backed seats before legs buckle underneath you.<br/>
<br/>
Margaret is sitting in the same chair as she was yesterday and you wonder if she has moved at all in that time.  She sits motionless, only those leaden eyes shifting as she watches you sit down.  If she is surprised to see Kali enter with you, her face does not betray it<br/>
<br/>
You wring your hands nervously.  They are already damp with sweat and the room seems to be pressing down on you again.  You shrink back into your chair.  Margaret has said nothing since you entered, and you don’t even know where to begin.  “I…” you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
“I told Will about Nibiru,” says Kali.  Margaret’s dull eyes flick to the side.  The pressures on you recede and you glance at Kali.  She’s gripping onto the arms of her chair as if her life depended on it.  A thick film of sweat is visible on her brow.  You watch with horror as the minutes tick by agonisingly slowly.<br/>
<br/>
“He needed to know,” says Kali, slowly and carefully with great effort.  “Ignorance is a danger for Will,” she adds, wiping her brow.  Kali turns to look at you, and your mind turns back to your conversation in the garden yesterday.  “His ignorance entangled him with the <i>Libra</i>, his ignorance entangled with him with a warlock and now he is here, dreaming of Nibiru,” continues Kali, the words spilling out faster and faster till she is talking more normally.  “So I told him what he needed to know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why,” rasps Margaret.  Her voice is so quiet that you can barely hear it, yet as soon as she speaks the room falls silent.<br/>
<br/>
Kali looks thoughtful, then she smiles as if some great burden has been lifted from her shoulders.  “Because he is <i>my </i>student,” she says.  “Because it is my duty to prepare him for what comes.  He depends on me.”<br/>
<br/>
For a moment the stifling air in the room lightens, a little chink of light squeezes past the curtain and illuminates the library.  Kali stands up and smiles again.  She smiles without reservation, no hint of sadness or regret in her face anymore.  “Thank you Margaret,” she says quietly.  With a nod to you, she exits the room leaving you alone.<br/>
<br/>
<i>So much for moral support</i>, you think as the light fades from the room, again filling it with that sense of oppression.  You aren’t really sure what happened there at all.  You sink back into the chair as the weight of the room starts pushing down on you again.<br/>
<br/>
Margaret’s flinty eyes bore strait at you.  “Tell me what you have learned about Nibiru Will,” she says wheezily.<br/>
<br/>
“Only what Kali told me,” you say.  The answer doesn’t seem to impress her, for she simply sits motionless.  You elaborate, the words coming out in a gable and you get your tongue twisted on more occasion.  Like yesterday, the air almost gets thicker around you and you almost struggle to breath.  Soon you find yourself turning to Kali’s discussion of your own background.  Margaret neither reprimands nor encourages you over the change of subject, but it increasingly feels like some great force is pushing at your ribcage.  It almost seems casual, thoughtless even – and with the implication that it could crush you without even trying.  “And…  And that the author of the <i>Libra </i>took Nibiru as an <i>ousiarch</i>,” you say with difficuly, finishing your answer.<br/>
<br/>
Margaret says nothing for a while, but the pressure on you weakens.  Though the air remains thick and cloying, you can relax a while.  “Do you want to take Nibiru as an <i>ousiarch</i>,” asks Margaret eventually.<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you instinctively answer.  <i>What an unfair question to ask</i>.  “Kali told me that the worst of the rogues and fallen <i>Stellae </i>ended up with Nibiru,” you add, the words flowing freely now.  “I want to help my friends, I want them to be happy with me.  I told you that yesterday.”  You swallow, realising you are close to shouting.  “I’m not going to end up like those fallen <i>Stellae</i>…”<br/>
<br/>
“How can you tell,” interrupts Margaret with a whisper.<br/>
<br/>
“I…” you stumble over the words.  How <i>can </i>you tell?  You’ve said the words, said them several times over, but all you’ve done is state your intentions.  You sit for a miserable half an hour trying to think up some way to answer the question put to you, coming up with no response.  The final remnants of the pressure around you slip away and you sense that today’s session is over.  You slink out the room dejectedly.<br/>
<br/>
You have much to think about.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“I can’t take it anymore,” you whine to Rick at the kitchen table one afternoon.  He returned this morning, three full days after he left.  Three whole sessions with Margaret.  It feels like a lifetime since you arrived.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s tough squirt,” he growls, swirling the clear liquor in his glass around.  He’s actually been in a better mood since he returned.  Though he refuses to be drawn on the details, he has somehow managed to put Jen’s life back together for her.  At least that’s one problem off your conscience.  “Margaret’s tough, but you’re making progress, aren’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I feel relieved every time I walk out the door,” your admit.  “But I don’t know if that’s because we’ve achieved something or because I’m simply happy to be out of there,” you explain.  “It’s so stifling in there.”<br/>
<br/>
“I hear you,” replies Rick, downing the glass in one go, shuddering as he does so.  “Listen squirt, Margaret’s no doubt been doing a good job with your <i>soul</i>,” he explains, stressing the last word cynically.  “But what about your powers?  When did you last do something to develop them?”<br/>
<br/>
“I meditate with Kali every night,” you explain.  “She seems happy with my progress.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s good squirt,” says Rick evenly.  “That’s real good.  But you still need to practice with them out in the real world.  What’d you say we give them a try tonight?”<br/>
<br/>
You almost leap out your chair.  A change of pace is just what you need.  “Yes,” you reply enthusiastically.<br/>
<br/>
“Thought you might squirt,” says Rick with a rare grin.  He reaches under the kitchen table and pulls up a plastic bag.  He shoves it across to you.  “Here, I got you some clothes.”<br/>
<br/>
“You shouldn’t have Rick,” you reply, opening the bag.  “Fyodor already got me some my own size and I don’t want to owe you any more money.<br/>
<br/>
“No charge,” says Rick, still grinning.  A little warning bell starts to go off inside your head.<br/>
<br/>
You take a look inside the bag.  “You really shouldn’t have,” you say again, this time in a very weak voice.  Inside the bag is a pair of skinny, too tight for you jeans, a vibrant green woman’s tee and a set of bra and panties.  “These aren’t for me, are they?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll be blunt with you squirt,” sighs Rick.  “The easiest way to grab someone’s face is to get them alone, and the easiest way to get someone alone is in the bedroom.  Or the toilets or the stationary cupboard or wherever else it is people do it these days.  So we’re gonna grab you some bedroom faces.”<br/>
<br/>
“Bedroom faces,” you echo, not quite getting Rick’s meaning.  “What do you mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“The kind of faces that people want to be alone with,” explains Rick.  “A couple of each gender should be enough, and you’ve already got one.”<br/>
<br/>
You try to think who Rick means.  It’s obviously not himself, as the clothes are for a woman.  Nor can it be Jen, if you striped away her heavy makeup, she wouldn’t be that attractive at all.  Kali would just feel too <i>wrong </i>and, whilst she might be suitable for going after older men, Miko would not be happy at all to find you using her face that way.  That only leaves one face.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you sure,” you ask Rick carefully.  “I mean would Kali be ok if she saw me walking around like that?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’ll have to be,” says Rick.  “With a face like Hélène’s you’d have them queuing up for you.  All you need to do is find a couple of handsome guys and get them alone long enough to take their <i>imago</i>.  If you can do it without them realising I may even be impressed.  Oxford’s a college town, so it should be easy enough to find them tonight.”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122112212111122111112121
author_id: imaj
title: Of Bad Pickup Lines and Worse
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You check yourself in the mirror one last time.  Though the clothes Rick got you are casual, perfect for posing as a lone college student at one of Oxford’s many bars, thanks to Hélène’s <i>imago </i>you look absolutely devastating in them.  Rick’s task should be easy looking like this.  And it’s not like he said you actually have to sleep with them, your grimace temporarily disfiguring the beautiful face in the mirror, just grab their <i>imago</i>.<br/>
<br/>
There is a knock at the door.  “Come in,” you shout, expecting Rick.  He’s promised to drive you into the town centre.  To your surprise, you see Kali reflected in the mirror behind you.  “Oh, uh… hi,” you say sheepishly.  This is awkward.  “Um, I’m sorry about this,” you say sheepishly.  “It was Rick’s idea.”<br/>
<br/>
If Kali is unhappy at what she sees, it doesn’t show.  “I understand,” she explains.  “Rick told me about his plans earlier.  He’s an excellent field agent Will, and if he thinks this is going to make you better in the field I have to defer to his opinion.”<br/>
<br/>
“You aren’t like, upset or anything,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“Yesterday I would have been,” says Kali with an odd shrug.  “After talking to Margaret this morning, seeing Hélène again just reminds me that I have to do my best prepare you for what you are going to encounter in your career.  Which, I suppose, is why I consented to this,” she adds, waving her hand at your body.  “Do…  Do you have any of her memories?”<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and examine the <i>imago </i>in your mind.  The wraith like ghosts of memory are few and far between and you sift through them rapidly.  “Only a handful,” you admit.  “I think I could maybe talk in French, have her accent and mannerisms.  Not much else.  Maybe it's because I wasn’t expecting to absorb her <i>imago </i>from her remains.  You brought them with you, didn’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Fyodor has them,” explains Kali.  “He has a knack for examining artefacts and seeing what makes them work.  Then he’ll dispose of them and scatter the ashes.”<br/>
<br/>
“Knock, knock,” says Rick as he enters the now open door.  He examines you critically.  “Good,” he states flatly.  “You ready for this?”  You nod.  “Remember, all you’re looking to do is grab the <i>imago </i>of a good looking guy in his early twenties.  You don’t to show off, you don’t need to take anything of his.  If you can do it without him noticing, that’s great, but no ones going to complain if another drunken fratboy wakes up unable to remember what he was doing and with his girl missing.”<br/>
<br/>
“They don’t have fraternities over here,” chides Kali gently.<br/>
<br/>
“Whatever they do have then,” sighs Rick.  “Let’s get moving squirt.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t, have to…  you know…” you ask hesitantly.  For some reason you find it very embarrassing asking in front of Kali.<br/>
<br/>
“Not unless you really want to squirt,” snorts Rick.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You nurse your bottle of beer and look around.  The bar Rick has selected for your assignment tonight is packed with college students, something that makes the air every bit as close as in Margaret’s library.  Here, though, you can add ‘hot’ and ‘sticky’ to the mix.  The mass of students getting drunk and enjoying themselves only seems to highlight your loneliness.  You’ve picked a stool by the bar to sit on, and as you scan the bar for potential targets you occasionally catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the bar.<br/>
<br/>
Hélène’s face grins nervously back at you, and you think that this might be a better way to complete your task:  Wait for people to come to you.  As Hélène, you are easily one of the most attractive women in the place, judging by the hungry looks some of the young men have given you already.  As for the women, it’s been either disinterest or envy.  Sometimes even hate, or on one occasion, that same look of desire that the men have.<br/>
<br/>
You look at your watch and take another sip from your beer.  You don’t want to get too drunk, because that might lead to you making a mistake or doing something stupid, but you also need that little boost in confidence the booze might provide.  What Rick has asked of you isn’t something that comes naturally.<br/>
<br/>
Your train of thought is broken by someone talking to you.  “Hallo,” comes the voice – male – accompanied by a nudge in your side.  You turn to see someone, well someone frankly unimpressive according to what little thoughts and feelings of Hélène you can hold onto.  He’s thin, reedy even with messy hair that is a particularly dull shade of brown.  Your interest is only held by the nagging feeling that he reminds you of someone.  “Are you waiting for someone,” he asks, rubbing at a week’s growth of stubble.  “You were looking at your watch,” he gables.  “So I thought you were waiting for someone.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at the interloper with pitying eyes.  Hélène’s fragmented persona suggest that he might not be quite so bad looking if his complexion cleared up, he had a shave and someone gave him a comb.  He’d also need to lose that geeky Dungeons &amp; Dragons tee.  “I’m waiting for someone… else,” you say, your voice cracking a little as you realise just who he reminds you of.  You’ve just shot down yourself, or at least someone very like you.  The thought makes your stomach turn a little as he walks dejectedly back to his hollering friends.<br/>
<br/>
“Was he bothering you,” asks another voice with a very crisp, very English accent.  You’ve noticed a lot of different accents in the bar already, as it seems Oxford attracts students from all over the country, but this accent is the one you’ve seen the news anchors use on the television here.<br/>
<br/>
You turn round to face the new voice.  This is a little better, you realise, closer to what you are looking for.  He’s perhaps a little short, but broad and very well defined, with an athlete’s physique that his close fitting shirt show of well.  “He was nothing I couldn’t handle,” you say with a coy smile. A little trace of Hélène’s accent slips into your speech.  “But thank you for the offer.”<br/>
<br/>
“My pleasure,” replies the guy, running a hand through his hair:  It’s blond and well groomed.  He reminds you a little of Jason Lynch back in Saratoga Falls now that you think about it.  He lacks the psychopathic gleam in the eye of your former schoolmate though.  “Did your friend abandon you,” he asks.  <br/>
<br/>
He must have heard what you said to the other guy.  “My cousin actually,” you lie, making up a story on the spot.  “She’s a student at the college here and I’m visiting her.”  That should account for any gaps in your local knowledge without raising any suspicion, you think, feeling rather pleased with yourself.<br/>
<br/>
“Which college,” asks your suitor.<br/>
<br/>
“Um what…” you stumble.<br/>
<br/>
“The uni’s made up of lots of colleges,” he explains.  “I’m George by the way, love your accent.  You’re French aren’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oui,” you say with a musical laugh.  George joins in.  “My name is Hélène,” you add offering him a slender hand.  He takes it and kisses it in the old fashioned manner and you giggle again.<br/>
<br/>
“Hélène,” he echoes you.  “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”  Inwardly you groan at the terrible pick up line, but on the outside you smile as if dazzled by his wit.  If you can get him alone long enough to grab his <i>imago </i>then you can go back to Margaret’s house and end this charade.  “Well, if your cousin’s forgotten about you, perhaps you’ll let me be your Paris for the evening,” he says with a bright grin. You giggle again.  You may not understand his joke, but you’re content enough to play along with him to get what you want.<br/>
<br/>
“Perhaps,” you reply coyly, running a finger down his shirt.  You reach for your beer again, only to find it’s empty.  How did that happen?<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll get you another,” smiles George.  He makes a gesture to the bartender, ordering two more beers.  Then he hooks his arm round yours and guides you through the packed bar to a booth near the back.  Two more young men sit there, cut from the same cloth as George:  Clean, athletic and well groomed.  “These are my friends Tony and Harry,” explains George, sitting you down.  “This is Hélène boys, her cousin's abandoned her so I suggested she could come sit with us tonight.”  There is a chorus of hellos as you greet each other.<br/>
<br/>
George disappears only to return a few minutes later with your drinks.  He sets your bottle on the table in front of you, causing it to foam up.  You grab the bottle and suck at it before any of the beer is spilled.  “Thank you,” you say, setting the bottle back on the table<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“I think I need to go to the toilet,” you say groggily, trying to stand up.  Not that you were ever a heavy drinker before, or a drinker at all for that matter, but somehow the beer seems to have hit you hard tonight.  Perhaps it’s being Hélène’s slight frame that’s causing you problems, but regardless, you have to go and you have to go now.  Tony and Harry glance at each other but George makes room for you to climb out of the booth.<br/>
<br/>
You stagger uncertainly through the crowd in the bar towards the toilets.  A long corridor leads away from the main bar area and as you walk along it you stumble and lean against the wall.  You’re dimly aware of George appearing at your side and lifting your arm around his shoulder.  “I can… manage myself,” you slur as Tony appears on the other side.  They lift you up and continue down the corridor towards a green door marked ‘fire exit’.  You vaguely feel that something is going badly wrong here, but its so much effort to think, so much effort to keep your eyes open.<br/>
<br/>
The last thing you see before blackness takes you is George push the green door open and lead you out into the night air.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221122121111221111121211
author_id: imaj
title: Saved By Sulva
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You dream of the night sky.<br/>
<br/>
The air is still and unmoving, no breeze to push the stifling air away.  You get up and look around but it is impossible to see where you are.  An impenetrable darkness blocks your sight in all directions.  You can barely even make out your feet in the gloom.<br/>
<br/>
You look up.  Thick clouds block the night sky and the stars are hidden from you.  Sulva is hidden from you.  No, that’s not right.  Sulva is <i>never </i>hidden from you.  You reach a hand up to the sky, beckoning your companion and a small gap in the clouds starts to form.  Sulva peers through, its familiar face both reassuring you and energizing you.  <br/>
<br/>
A shaft of moonlight illuminates the ground and you see a path leading away from your location.  A short distance ahead you recognise a Japanese shrine gate, its shape at once both familiar and alien.  A figure appears by the gate:  Miko Toyotomi, dressed in blood red biker’s leathers.  Held in a sash at her waist is the curved shape of her sword.<br/>
<br/>
You make your way down the path confidently.  Unlike the real Miko, the dream Miko is happy to see you:  Her arms open wide in greeting as you approach and the two of you hug.  The darkness around you fades away and you groggily wake up.<br/>
<br/>
The first thing you are aware of is the uncomfortable position you find yourself sitting in:  Your arms stuck behind your back.  You try to move them, but they seem stuck in place.  Bound?  There does seem to be something rough feeling chafing at your wrists.  Nor can you move your legs, and as you look down you can see that they have been tied to the legs of the chair with thick looking rope.<br/>
<br/>
You also notice that your boobs have shrunk.<br/>
<br/>
The only explanation is that you somehow changed <i>imago </i>whilst you were sleeping.  Given the dream you had, and given the subtle change in the tone of your skin you suspect you are now wearing Miko’s face.  You meditate for a few seconds and the introspection confirms it.  You also consider retaking Hélène’s <i>imago</i>, yet there’s something not quite right about how it feels that stops you.<br/>
<br/>
You turn your attention to the room.  There are no windows and the only source of light is a single electric bulb.  It sways slightly as if caught in a breeze, causing the shadows cast by the series of stone arches that make up the room to dance about.  There is no carpet or rug and the floor is made up flagstones polished by centuries of use.  The walls are stained where water has trickled down them and even now you can hear a soft dripping sound.<br/>
<br/>
Aside from the chair you’ve been tied to, the only other piece of furniture is an unvarnished table.  You crane your neck to take a closer look.  It’s cluttered with garbage:  Candles, musty books, odd looking glass vials – the sort of mess that you remember seeing back in Blackwell’s workshop cum laboratory.  Useless…<br/>
<br/>
No, there’s an ornate looking knife half under one of the books at the very edge of the table.  The unpleasant words <i>sacrificial dagger</i> bubble to the surface of your mind.  If you could somehow reach it…<br/>
<br/>
Whoever your captors were, they were expecting Hélène Verdier not Miko Toyotomi.  Even without access to Miko’s Malacandra <i>ousiarch</i>, her athletic body packs more muscles into it than Hélène and yourself combined.  You half hop, half waddle, chair and all, over to the table.  The knife looks wickedly sharp, so you very carefully turn your back to the table and probe gently with Miko’s dextrous fingers.<br/>
<br/>
Success!  You work your fingers round the hilt of the knife and grasp hold of it.  Very, very carefully you try to feel for he rope with your other hand until you have enough of an idea of its location to try and cut it.  It takes a couple tries to place the knife correctly and at times you can feel the knife rest against your unprotected skin but eventually you get it.  You slowly saw at the rope, not going all the way through but instead stopping once its weakened enough to be snapped Miko’s strength.<br/>
<br/>
With one hand free the rest of the process is easy.  You cut the bonds on each of your legs in turn.  With that done you can twist round in the chair and free your remaining hand with little effort.  Although you haven’t touched Miko’s persona at all since you woke up, you can feel her contempt for the amateur way your captors had you trussed.<br/>
<br/>
“Everything’s set up,” says a voice outside the room, just beyond the rotting door that is the only exit.  “All you need to do now is return this evening and…  Well, you know what happens then.”  There is a sound of a key turning in a lock and you look around for somewhere to hide.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you don’t <i>need </i>somewhere to hide.  You press yourself in behind one of the arches, readying your cloak.  The door swings open and two men walk into the room.  You don’t wait to see them properly, throwing your cloak around them instantly.<br/>
<br/>
“What the fuck,” says one of them.  It’s George, from last night.  He’s still wearing the same clothes bar the addition of a heavy looking open brown robe over the top of them.  He half runs to the now empty chair and kneels beside it, picking up the frayed remains of the rope.  “She was right here.”<br/>
<br/>
“And now she isn’t,” says the other man, whom you don’t recognise.  He is, perhaps a little older than George, but not by much.  He too wears a brown robe, but you can’t help but notice ugly looking stains upon it.<br/>
<br/>
“She couldn’t have gone,” exclaims George.  “I gave her enough of the stuff to keep her knocked out till the ceremony.  And the door was locked.”  You bristle with anger:  He must have drugged you at the bar.  Thinking about it, Hélène must still be drugged, and it was only by Sulva leading you to shift to Miko that you were able to throw off the drug induced stupor.<br/>
<br/>
“Lets assume the worst Georgie boy,” says the other man with a trace of smugness.  “She was somehow resistant to the drug and was enough of an expert lockpicker and contortionist to escape.  Where’s she going to go?  The tunnels are a maze and she’ll never work her way back to the surface without knowing which way to go.  We’ll just post Tony and Harry on the exit and the rest of us will sweep the tunnels till we find her”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re right,” replies George.  “Of course you’re right,” he continues, his speech slowing back down to normal.  “Nothing to panic about.  Worst case scenario, we can just go out and pick another girl to be the third tonight.”<br/>
<br/>
“Exactly,” says the other man with a serpent like grin.  He throws something to George, who catches it easily.  “You lock up here, I’ll go organise the search party.”  He walks out the door, leaving you and George alone in the room.<br/>
<br/>
You circle the room slowly as George walks over to the table and starts rummaging through the heap on top of it.  He’s muttering to himself and you move in closer to hear him  “…know I left the dagger here somewhere…” he mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
You realise you still have the knife in your hands, poised and ready to use.  The blade gleams with an ugly light as the words tumble over one another in your head:  Dagger, ceremony…  You look from blade to George and back again and you understand with a terrible certainty that he planned to use the very knife in your hands to sacrifice you for some unknown purpose tonight.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck…  Did she take it,” mutters George, panic rising in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
He’s totally oblivious to your presence, wrapped in both your cloak and his own rising concerns.  Miko’s competent with almost any sort of blade and it would very easy to kill him now.  It’s what he was going to do to you.  The blade glints, almost as if it’s willing you to use it.<br/>
<br/>
You lower the blade.  Are you ready to make that decision?</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112221122111122212121121121211221212112121112122112221112211221211112211111212112
author_id: imaj
title: An Escape
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You raise your arm again, ready to bring down the knife into George’s back.  At he very least he’s a kidnapper and from the sound of what’s been said he’s a murderer as well.  Judging by the robe and magical trappings on the table, he might even be some kind of cultist.  He doesn’t deserve to live.<br/>
<br/>
Unsummoned, something you heard yesterday bubbles to the front of your mind.<br/>
<br/>
<i>How can you tell?</i><br/>
<br/>
How <i>can </i>you tell?  You’ve seen the evidence but is it your place to make that kind of decision?  You drop your arm to the side and instead ready a sigil in your free hand.  George’s partner said you’d never be able to find your way out unless you knew where to go.  Well, you don’t know, but George does.  Your free hand connects with the back of his head and he sags like a puppet with cut strings.<br/>
<br/>
You catch him as he falls.  He’s heavy, but easy enough to drag thanks to Miko’s strength.  For a moment you consider taking his clothes and simply walking out the front door using his <i>imago</i>, but that path has risks of its own.  You want to keep things simple, leave no trace of your passing just like Rick has told you to.<br/>
<br/>
Instead you drag George back to the chair and sit him in it.  You’d dialled the knockout part of the sigil back to fifteen minutes, so with any luck you’ll be long gone by the time he comes to and he’ll put it down to the stress caused by losing you and his knife.<br/>
<br/>
Even though you decided not to use it, you think keeping the knife would be a good idea.  Examining it again, Miko’s instincts tell you it has the look of something ritual.  Kali, Rick and Fyodor will likely want to have a closer look too.  Ultimately though, George was panicking about losing it, and he needs it for whatever he has planned, then taking it away from him makes sense.<br/>
<br/>
You review George’s captured <i>imago</i>, tearing through his memories with little more than a glance until you find what you need:  The way out.  His companion, who George’s memories tell you is called Rob, was right:  The tunnels are a maze.  The memories tell you they are narrow and twisting, barely tall enough for a person to walk upright in places.<br/>
<br/>
You figure you have to move quickly.  George will not be out for long and the tightness of the tunnels could make your cloak difficult to use if it came to squeezing past people.  You aren’t sure about that, but there’s no point in taking risks.  You creep out the doorway, sticking your head through first to check outside.  It’s one of the larger areas in the tunnels – a vaulted hallway with half a dozen side rooms more or less identical to the one you woke up in.<br/>
<br/>
As you peer round the door, you spy Rob locking one of the side rooms with a heavy iron key.  The remnants of your cloak still linger on him, but you wrap it round him afresh just to be on the safe side anyway.  He moves to the room on the opposite side and, producing another old looking key, unlocks it.  He disappears inside.  That gives you your chance.  You move down the hall with stolen catlike grace, passing through the door at the end of the hall.<br/>
<br/>
This next section of the tunnels is the worst part according to George’s memories.  Intentionally designed as a maze, the ceiling sags in places, forcing you to stoop to pass.  You move forward cautiously and carefully.  You know from George’s memories that there are four of his fellow cultists in the tunnel complex right now.  You’ve already passed Rob.  Tony and Harry should be up ahead at the exit, but that still leaves one unaccounted for.  You don’t want to stumble into him by accident without having the chance to pull your cloak over his eyes.  Left, left again, then straight through two junctions and turn right, you use George’s own route through the maze.<br/>
<br/>
You hear footsteps up ahead.  You duck into a low ceilinged side tunnel before they get closer.   It only runs a short distance before reaching a dead end where the ceiling has collapsed.  You crouch and listen as the footsteps get closer.  Another cultist, the hood of his robe obscuring his face passes by without looking at you.  That should be the last of them then.  Only the two at the door between you and freedom.<br/>
<br/>
You crawl back out of the side tunnel and start moving at speed.  A right, two lefts in succession and then one more right and you’re out of the maze and into an arched antechamber.<br/>
<br/>
Fuck.<br/>
<br/>
Two more cultists are in the antechamber.  Where the hell did they come from?  One is pulling his robe over his head and you snap your cloak round him without thinking.  The second is staring straight at you.<br/>
<br/>
“What the hell,” he mutters, his jaw gaping at the unexpected sight.  Like all of the cultists you’ve seen so far, he has an athlete’s physique.  “John,” he says, turning round to catch the attention of his friend.<br/>
<br/>
That’s all the distraction you need and you throw up your cloak around him too.  You shift to the side, unsure how well the cloak will hold if they get too close to you.<br/>
<br/>
“Where did she go,” says the second cultist.<br/>
<br/>
“Where did who go,” ask the first, struggling with his robe.<br/>
<br/>
“There was a woman standing right there,” answers the second, pointing at where you were a few moments ago.  You edge further away, closer and closer to the exit.<br/>
<br/>
“Well what did she look like,” asks the first cultist, finally getting his robe into position.<br/>
<br/>
“Oriental totty,” says the second.  “Bit older but still pretty.”<br/>
<br/>
“You, my friend, are imaging things,” replies the first, rubbing at his closely clipped beard.  “None of the girls are oriental.  The girl we’re looking for is an Arab.  Unless you can’t tell the difference.”<br/>
<br/>
“I bloody well can,” snorts the second cultist indignantly.<br/>
<br/>
“Well there you go then,” sniggers the first.  “You probably <i>did </i>just imagine it.  Even if you didn’t, where could she have gone?  She probably just turned and ran back into the maze.  I’ll call Rob and let him know we’ve pinned down our lost flower.”<br/>
<br/>
“You do that,” replies the second angrily, pointing his finger at his compatriot.<br/>
<br/>
That was too close, you reflect as the pair take up station by the door you came in.  You made a stupid assumption – that you’d accounted for all the cultists in the tunnels – and got caught out.  Of course Rob was going to call in help once he realised you’d gotten loose.  What would Rick say about your naïveté?  Something like ‘count them and then add half again just in case’ no doubt.<br/>
<br/>
You can worry about it later.  The way out is clear, bar for the two remaining cultists waiting at the exit.  Then again, if they think they have you pinned down in the maze, they might bring the two guarding the door further in.  You move forward cautiously again.<br/>
<br/>
A few minutes later you are congratulating yourself for outthinking the cultists.  Just as you thought, the two door guards are being brought further into the complex.  You spot them outlined against the far end of a gently slopping tunnel.  It’s sheer simplicity to tie their senses in your cloak and stand to the side as they pass by.<br/>
<br/>
After that there’s no one between you and the exit, which emerges in the cellars of one of the college buildings  You make one last check to make sure no one is watching and then run for Margaret’s house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You find Rick, Kali and Fyodor sitting round the kitchen table when you stumble in exhausted.  They look up from their conversation with expressions of surprise and concern on their face.<br/>
<br/>
“What happened to you last night,” ask Rick with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
“I got kidnapped by cultists,” you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
“Very funny squirt,” nods Rick.  “No one’s gonna blame you if you had a little fun last night.  Well no one except Miko if she finds out you used her face for it.”<br/>
<br/>
Kali looks at you carefully, taking in your air of desperation, the badly fitting clothes and the  look of exhaustion on your face.  Her eyes suddenly go wide.  “I don’t think he’s joking Rick,” she says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Rick looks at you again, taking the time to examine you closely.  “Christ squirt,” he says eventually.  “What happened to you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I told you,” you whine.  “I got kidnapped by cultists.  They put something in my drink and next thing I know woke up tied to a chair.”<br/>
<br/>
“Easy there my friend,” interrupts Fyodor. “I think you need to slow down and start at the beginning.”<br/>
<br/>
Kali’s eye’s narrow.  She turns to face Rick.  “Did you know about this,” she says accusingly.<br/>
<br/>
Rick backs up in his chair.  “I swear Kali, I just took the squirt out to score some bedroom faces,” he says.  “I didn’t know nothing about no cultists.”  He looks at the floor abjectly.  “Not consciously anyway,” he adds quietly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Not consciously</i>, you think, <i>what the fuck does that mean?</i>  Kali throws her hands up in the air.  “Unbelievable Rick.  Of all the times for your subconscious to decide it needs a mystery to solve.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, it sure explains why I felt the need to hang around that bar all night,” says Rick, rubbing his stubble.  “I thought I was just in a generous enough mood to drive the squirt back here afterwards.”<br/>
<br/>
“This just gets better and better,” sighs Kali exasperatedly.<br/>
<br/>
You watch the argument with a feeling of increasing detachment.  In your addled mind, the things you heard whilst escaping from the tunnels are finally starting to make connections:  ‘another girl to be the third’, ‘none of the girls are oriental’,  Rob locking doors behind him.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh fuck,” you say quietly.  “They’ve got other captives and they’re going to sacrifice them tonight.”<br/>
<br/>
Everyone at the table goes very, very quiet.  “I think,” say Rick slowly.  “That you better tell us everything.”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111122211221111222121211211212112212121121211121221122211122112212111122111112121121
author_id: imaj
title: Memories From The Dark
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You begin with the bar, and how you were abducted on the way to the toilets.  Rick murmurs ‘that’s how I never saw you leaving’ when you explain about the back door but Kali hushes him.  You describe your odd dream and how you suspected that changing to Miko helped you escape the effects of the drugs.  Rick nods happily as you describe you escape from the tunnels.  He seems pleased with the way you managed to escape without alerting anyone save for the empty chair you left behind.<br/>
<br/>
“Actually, how did you get out the chair,” asks  Fyodor.  “If you were tied up.”<br/>
<br/>
“There was a knife on the table,” you explain.  “I was able to reach it and cut myself loose.”  Fyodor frowns at this.  “I brought it with me.  I put it down in the hall, let me go get it.”<br/>
<br/>
You return a minute later with the ornate knife and hand it Fyodor.  He turns it over very carefully, examining it wordlessly.<br/>
<br/>
“Well,” asks Rick after several minutes have passed.<br/>
<br/>
“Sacrificial dagger,” replies Fyodor matter-of-factly.  “One of a set if I am seeing this right.  Might even have a limited will of its own.  Very bad news.  It might be that the knife <i>wanted </i>you to take it my friend.  You didn’t use it on anyone did you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I came close,” you admit wretchedly.  “It was the guy who drugged me.  He was right in front of me and didn’t know I was there.  I nearly stuck the knife in him.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then very lucky for both you and him my friend,” grins Fyodor.  “And lucky for us too.  We’ll store this one in the archives where it can’t do any more harm.  Your cultist friends will still have the others in the set though.”<br/>
<br/>
“How many,” asks Rick.<br/>
<br/>
“Apart from this one,” says Fyodor pushing the knife into the middle of the table.  He takes great care to keep the blade pointing away from anybody.  “Another two I think.  It would take a day to be sure, but two I think.”<br/>
<br/>
“Could they still proceed with their ritual without this,” asks Kali, indicating the knife with some distaste.<br/>
<br/>
“Probably,” replies Fyodor.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh god,” you murmur, taking a seat beside Kali.  “I should have rescued the other girls while I had the chance.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, you did good squirt,” says Rick.  “Sounded like it was hard enough getting out yourself.  Having a couple of innocents tailing along with you would have made it impossible.  Then they’d be dead, you’d be dead along with them and we’d be none the wiser.”<br/>
<br/>
“There’s wisdom in knowing when to seek help,” agrees Kali<br/>
<br/>
“I just wish I could have done something more,” you sigh.<br/>
<br/>
“You done enough squirt, and now we can handle the rest.  It’s your call Fyodor,” says Rick evenly.<br/>
<br/>
“I always have the weakness for the damsels in distress,” grins Fyodor.  “We hit them just before their ritual, that way we get them all in the one place.”<br/>
<br/>
“Makes sense,” murmurs Rick.  “You got a plan?<br/>
<br/>
“Not yet,” smiles Fyodor.  “I was thinking Will could maybe help me formulate one.”<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops as Kali and Rick both turn to look at you.  Kali is as surprised as you are, but there’s a gleam in Ricks eye that tells you he knows, or at least suspects, something.  “Me,” you whine.  “I don’t know anything about doing this.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah my friend,” smiles Fyodor, his grin growing ever wider.  “But you do have something that Kali and Rick here don’t,” he explains confidently, although you have no idea what he’s talking about.  You just stare blankly at the three of them.  It’s only a small consolation that Kali seems to be as much in the dark as you are.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s talking about the <i>imago </i>you lifted from the cultist,” explains Rick.  “That’s all the information he needs: their numbers, what they plan to do, what they’ve got in those tunnels.  Everything.”<br/>
<br/>
“There will be some dark knowledge in there,” interrupts Kali solemnly.  “I urge caution.”<br/>
<br/>
“Agreed, but there’s also some very useful information in there too,” replies Fyodor.  He looks at you, his face suddenly uncharacteristically serious.  “Will, are you able to summon the cultist’s memories without changing <i>imago</i>?  Should we give you five minutes to change clothes?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I mean yes,” you stumble.  “I mean, no I don’t need to change my clothes, yes I can look at his memories without changing out,” you explain, waving your hand up and down to indicate your body.  “That’s how I got out the maze in the tunnels.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, of course,” replies Fyodor, his grin returning briefly.  “Kali, if you could lead Will in meditation on the <i>imago</i>,” he asks more seriously.<br/>
<br/>
“I was about to suggest the same thing,” sniffs Kali.  “Hold out your hand Will.”<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate.  “I can check memories by myself,” you prevaricate.  “Why do I need help now?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not so much that you need help accessing the <i>imago </i>and memories of the cultist,” explains Kali smoothly.  “But what else you might find while you are there.  You might learn things you wish you had not, and you might vicariously relive some of the individual's darker experiences.  I shall help protect you from them.”  Kali gestures again for you to hold out your hand.  You reach out confidently and close your eyes, feeling Kali’s own hand grasp around yours.  “Now summon the <i>imago</i>.  Close enough to see but not close enough to become.”<br/>
<br/>
The swirling stars that represent your collection of faces float around you.  You pick out George’s and pull it close, stopping just short of letting it envelop you.  Wraiths of memory orbit it, packed densely like a shoal of fish.  Unbidden, you pick apart at George’s life:  An uncaring mother, a distant father, a childhood being bullied at one of the most prestigious public schools in the country and, in turn, being the bully himself.  Then you turn to his more recent memories, his athletic pursuits, the rowing and his absolute, <i>absolute </i>determination to be selected for Oxford’s team on the annual Oxford-Cambridge boat race and eventually, win it.<br/>
<br/>
“Is that it,” you murmur quietly<br/>
<br/>
“It seems so petty,” comes Kali voice from beside you.  She has seen everything that you have and seemingly cannot believe that someone would turn to something quite as dark and ugly as human sacrifice just to ensure their sporting success.  You think back to your days at Westside and the basket ball team there.  Would Gordon Black and Steve Patterson gone to such lengths to beat their hated rivals at Eastman?  Frighteningly it seems possible.  “Let’s put aside his motivations and turn to more pertinent information,” adds Kali.  “Starting with how many there are in this cult.”<br/>
<br/>
You reach for the memory, scattering others nearby.  “Nine,” you say.  A vivid apparition of George’s induction comes forth.  George and seven others in a line, each holding their palms open in turn as Rob slices them open with the knife you stole.  You can do nothing but watch as Rob turns each dripping hand into a bowl and catches the spilling red liquid.  Then each of the cultists drinking from the bowl, becoming brothers bound in blood.<br/>
<br/>
The vision vanishes as quickly as it came upon you and you are enveloped in a warm, golden and nurturing glow.  “Thank you Kali,” you say, recognising your mentor’s intervention.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re welcome Will,” says Kali smoothly.  “This is exactly what I was hoping to protect you from.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are memories like that dangerous?”<br/>
<br/>
“Perhaps,” says Kali.  “If you look at them too closely.  The wiser course is not to take that chance I think.”<br/>
<br/>
You murmur your agreement.  “How do I get rid of them,” you ask.  “If it’s that bad I don’t want to carry them around.”<br/>
<br/>
“An interesting question,” replies Kali.  “But one for another time.  Perhaps tomorrow once this business is done.  Let us return to more pressing matters:  The ritual.”<br/>
<br/>
“Tonight,” you say sifting through George’s memories.  “At midnight.  Three young women to be sacrificed with the three daggers.”<br/>
<br/>
“They’ll all be there,” you hear Fyodor ask, though his voice sounds distant.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” you reply.  “They need to be present to gain the… benefits…” you stutter until Kali pulls you back from the memories again.<br/>
<br/>
“You said there was a maze,” probes Fyodor.  “Can you draw us a map?”<br/>
<br/>
The meditation continues for what seems like an age.  Fyodor continues to gently question you on the cult, asking for clarification where he needs it, pulling out the details he needs.  Two more times Kali has to step in and draw you away from darker memories and you find yourself thankful for her intervention.<br/>
<br/>
The questioning accelerates.  Fyodor drills down to greater and greater levels of detail.  Which cells are the prisoners kept in:  The middle two on either side.  How wide is the ritual chamber: about fifteen metres.  How will the cultists be standing:  In a semi circular arc.  It is exhausting and terrifying both until finally it stops.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you Will,” says Fyodor.  “You’ve told us more than enough.”<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes flutter open weakly.  “I’m help…” you say quietly.  “I’m happy I could help.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you again my friend,” says Fyodor.<br/>
<br/>
And just like that, you are switched off.<br/>
<br/>
Fyodor and Rick go straight into planning.  Hunched over the map you drew for them, they talk in low whispers, discussing how and where to attack.  Occasionally Kali interjects with an idea, but you no longer seem to be part of the planning process.<br/>
<br/>
It’s not that you think it’s unfair.  Fyodor, Rick and Kali are more experienced than you and it’s only right they carry out the rescue.  It’s a matter of obligation, and one of guilt.  You left the two other girls at the mercy of the cult when you escaped, and your escape has doomed a third to take your place.  You want to help them as much as you do the <i>Stellae</i>.<br/>
<br/>
“I want to go,” you say quietly.<br/>
<br/>
No one hears you.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111222112211112221212112112121122121211212111212211222111221122121111221111121211211
author_id: imaj
title: The Raid, Part 1
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I said, I want to go,” you repeat, this time more loudly.  They all stop talking and look at you.  “I want to help rescue the other girls,” you explain.<br/>
<br/>
Kali is the first to speak.  “I absolutely forbid it.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick considers this for a moment.  “Squirt might have a point,” he says, rubbing his stubble.<br/>
<br/>
“Explain,” says Fyodor levelly.<br/>
<br/>
“Well Kali, no offence here, she ain’t much of a fighter,” explains Rick.  “And what gifts she does have that are combat related are more what you’d call artillery.  If this thing goes south, it’s going to be close quarters hack and slash in the tunnels.  Would’ve liked your old apprentice along for the ride, where is he anyway?”<br/>
<br/>
“Busy,” growls Fyodor.  “And what do you mean ‘goes south’.”<br/>
<br/>
“I like to have a backup plan,” shrugs Rick.  “And a fallback plan in case the backup plan goes to hell.”<br/>
<br/>
“What happens when the fallback plan doesn’t work,” you mutter, but Rick doesn’t seem to hear you<br/>
<br/>
“I doubt Will is better equipped for hand to hand combat either,” says Kali coolly.<br/>
<br/>
“No he ain’t,” agrees Rick.  “But Miko is.  Squirt goes in with the samurai’s <i>imago</i>, he’s going to kick ass, even without Malacandra”<br/>
<br/>
“Hah,” exclaims Fyodor, slamming one meaty hand down on the table.  “I like it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not sure he’s ready,” complains Kali.<br/>
<br/>
“Kali, it’s a milk run,” sighs Rick.  “These jokers are barely worthy of the name cultist.  Only guy we got to worry about is the warlock leading them.  The only reason we’re going in heavy handed is because Fyodor likes busting heads together.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s true my friend,” laughs Fyodor.  “And I am disgustingly rusty too!”<br/>
<br/>
“Squirt’s going to have to go into the field eventually,” says Rick.  “You know he’s going to be apprenticing with me sooner rather than later anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
Kali can only sigh.  Even though you haven’t known Fyodor for long, the look in his eye is unmistakable.  He’s set on his course, nothing can change his mind and his course is taking you along for the ride.  “Very well,” she says with as much dignity as she can muster.<br/>
<br/>
“Then it’s decided,”  says Fyodor magnanimously.  “Ah but now we have to rework the plan to include Will’s abilities instead of Kali’s, oh well,” he continues with a mock disappointment.  “Lucky for me I like making plans, huh!”<br/>
<br/>
This time, you are included in the conversation.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You return to the cellars just after eleven.  The staff have gone home and the building is dark.  This had proven no problem to Rick, who had unwound a velvet roll from within the pockets of his sports jacket and picked the old fashioned lock to get inside with surprising dexterity.  The more modern security methods hadn’t fared much better, with Fyodor doing something that caused the motion sensors and burglar alarm to die in silence.<br/>
<br/>
You peek over some dusty crates to look at the entrance to he tunnel complex, your cloak in hand in case you need it.  There’s no one there, as expected.  The cult will all be deep inside preparing for their ritual.  You sink back down, leaning against the crate.<br/>
<br/>
“Entrance is clear,” you whisper to Rick, who is sitting on your left.<br/>
<br/>
He looks round the side of the crates himself.  “You mean ‘there’s no one there’,” Rick says quietly.  “There’s a difference squirt.”<br/>
<br/>
“This is true,” whispers Fyodor, although for him whispering is akin to anyone else’s normal talking voice.  Stealth doesn’t come easily to him either and he crouches awkwardly as he attempts to take a look at the entrance.  “Hmm, weak indifference guardian on the door,” he muses.  “Sloppy.”<br/>
<br/>
“That means people can’t even see the door,” explains Rick, before you even ask the question.  “Unless they’re really looking for it, or they got a touch of power.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hah,” barks Fyodor.  “And a watcher too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can you disable it Fyodor,” asks Rick.  Fyodor looks hurt for a brief moment before starting to get up.  Rick pulls him back down again.  “Scratch that, I got a better idea:  Blind it long enough for us to get past.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh I get it,” grins Fyodor.  “The watcher going blind gives the game away just as bad as being spotted?  It’s a little trickier,” he says, getting to his feet.  “but not impossible.”  You wait patiently as Fyodor creeps forward, unable to see exactly what he is doing.  After a minute he speaks again.  “There, done.  We have a minute.<br/>
<br/>
Rick darts out from behind the crates and you follow.  You all quickly advance to the door to the tunnels.  It proves to be locked, but it yields quickly to Rick’s lockpicks.  The three of you pass through the door with seconds to spare.<br/>
<br/>
“Hmm,” says Rick, almost to himself.  “I’d have put a watcher on both sides of the door.”<br/>
<br/>
“Jam it,” orders Fyodor indicating the door you’ve just passed through.  “No escape routes,” he explains and Rick goes to work with the picks again.<br/>
<br/>
This is where you start to play an important part in Fyodor’s plan.  Although George’s memories told you that all of the cultists should be in the ritual chamber deep in the tunnels, Rick’s ingrained sense of paranoia insists that you should assume no such thing.  You move ahead of Rick and Fyodor, keeping your cloak ready as you work your way down the gently curving and sloping tunnel.  Waving to Rick and Fyodor to follow, you can’t help but take a little sliver of pleasure:  They’re doing what <i>you </i>tell them to and not the other way round for the first time.<br/>
<br/>
The antechamber before the maze is empty.  Fyodor and Rick start searching through the cupboards and wardrobes there while you keep a watch on the exit leading onwards.  Fyodor finds what he’s looking for first:  A spare brown robe, like the one the cultists wear.  Another one of Rick’s additions to the plan.  You doubt it would fool them for very long, but the few seconds of confusion it will buy Fyodor and Rick might prove invaluable.<br/>
<br/>
“How do we look,” grins Fyodor.  The robe does not fit him well, stretching tightly across his huge chest.  Rick looks equally ridiculous, having somehow picked out the most moth-eaten and worn spare robe available.<br/>
<br/>
“Um… ok,” you reply, not wanting to tell the truth.  “Actually, it’s not great.”<br/>
<br/>
“Didn’t think it would be,” says Rick evenly.  “But the details count squirt, so make sure they count for you.  That’s rule number ten.”<br/>
<br/>
Fyodor pulls the map you drew him out of a pocket.  “No time to waste my friends, let’s keep going.”<br/>
<br/>
You backtrack your way through the maze.  Fyodor has a little difficulty with the tighter passages, but you encounter no obstacles on your way through.  It doesn’t take long to reach the ritual chamber.<br/>
<br/>
You poke your head round the corner and glance inside the chamber.  You didn’t come here during your escape so you only have the memories from George’s <i>imago </i>to refer to.  Easily the largest open space in the tunnels, it has a large arched roof and, inexplicably,  stained glass windows.  The scenes depicted writhe under your eyes and bring on a headache.<br/>
<br/>
The entire cult is there.  Eight men stand in a rough semi circle, their faces obscured by the hoods of their brown robes.  They chant in low voices, you don’t recognise the language.  In the centre, on a raised platform is their leader, the warlock Rob.  He paces between three poles, each with a young woman tied to it.  He stops to daub symbols on their faces, sticking his finger in a bowl he carries before drawing on each woman in turn.  The first, a leggy blonde in her mid twenties with a sharp face, moans faintly as he does so.<br/>
<br/>
You pull  back from the edge and turn to face Rick and Fyodor.  “You ready,” asks Fyodor, finally brining the volume of his voice to something you would recognise as a whisper.  You nod.  “Go then, we’ll come in on the signal or as soon as we see you in trouble,” instructs Fyodor.  Well that fills you with confidence…<br/>
<br/>
It’s a difficult task, for you have to wrap your cloak round all twelve people in the room – nine cultists and the three women.  It is surprisingly easy to tie up the sense of each individual in turn, drawing attention to the scenery rather than yourself.  It’s only when you try to move that you realise the difficulty you are in.  Though all twelve can not perceive you, each time you take a step your cloak's hold on one or more of them rustles.  The strands are everywhere, woven round each other and each time one gets tugged another three are tugged with it.<br/>
<br/>
You move with the utmost caution, taking the tiniest of steps.  Between each step you stop to repair the damage to your cloak the movement caused.  You can sense Rick and Fyodor’s agonised gazes on your back, for it takes you seconds between each step.  Although you only have to travel several metres to get to the first woman, it takes you as many minutes to do so.<br/>
<br/>
You reach the first, standing just behind her and letting your cloak slip from around her.  “Don’t say anything,” you whisper.  She makes a strangled sound in her throat but complies.  “I’m cutting you loose,” you add, using a pocket blade you brought for just such a purpose.  “Don’t run till you see the signal, you’ll know it when you see it.”<br/>
<br/>
You repeat the process with the other two, leaving only the final and most dangerous step of the plan to complete.  By Fyodor’s estimation, the only real danger in the cult is the leader.  You are to knock him out with a sigil before the fight even starts.<br/>
<br/>
You creep closer, readying the sigil.  Just as you get close enough, Rob abruptly changes direction and you instinctively take a large step to get closer again.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment, the strained threads of your cloak hold in position, blinding the cultists to your presence.  Then it snaps and melts away.  The chanting stops, the room goes silent.<br/>
<br/>
A lone voice pipes up in the line of cultists.  “Hey that’s that Oriental girl I saw this morning.”</span></div></div>


