In the Time of Pestilence

She remembered it all.

Lorne, leaning over the balcony railing, armored and wings spread, full of cold and silence as He watched Joah floating above the mantelpiece, her fingertips dripping maggots to the floor. The rushing sound of Sariel’s Sword unsheathed, stained with War, Lorne’s voice demanding for the Thing to leave, to return home. The Thing felt Joah’s body, her spirit tug as It watched Him reaching down through her and laughed.

“It shall already have been,” He spoke. The Thing grinned in reply and fed upon the imprint of the Void within Joah. It taunted Him, shifting shape to His firstborn, Lilith, reminding him of his failures before, of what he had lost.

Lorne watched wordlessly, and then raised His hand, palm up, and lifting the Sword: a squeal of metal cutting through metal. It sheared through His gauntlet palm, flashing red, exuding pure self-destruction into the throne room the Thing had made in Joah’s psyche.

Rhaven stood quietly, gathering her energies, preparing for anything.
“Joah needs fixed,” Brianna said in a hushed tone.
Grrbrool sang and raved and quivered, but was of no use.

The stench of rotting garbage began to fill the Library. The Thing fought against itself, touched by War and without the strength from its lost Sister-Brothers. It too, reached along the cord between Lorne and Joah. It, too, knew His weaknesses. The Thing's face began to shift; it’s eyes opening wider as the smell of rotting flesh assaulted the room. Long red hair streamed from Its head, creamy skin upon a beautiful face, wide eyes approximating innocence. “You’d do this to me?” It lisped.

"Joah isn't Joah. She's Pestilence and had me infested with Death," Blue hissed.
Denenthorn growled, “I want that sorry excuse of a Horseman gone and I want Grr and Joah back, Lorne. BREAK HIS SPIRIT LIKE HE AND THE OTHER THREE BROKE GRRBROOL'S."
Severus watched in silence, absently picking at the fresh and still dripping scourge marks left by Lucifer, pale eyes staring blankly.

Lorne sheathed his Sword and moved closer. Not Brit, not Eve he thought looking at the face before him. A set of scales dropped from his torn, empty hand, a haze of black drifting after the red along the link way, "You are called too early, tool. That you are here before the intended hour means you are called not by the One you serve, but the Adversary."

A cruel smile formed upon the lovely mask as the Thing changed its appearance back again to Sariel’s firstborn. “You are the Adversary, Old One,” it hissed, grabbing its belly in pain as it felt the gnawing of Famine’s black mist. The roar of birds’ wings arose from the hearth, screams and caws and claws scratching. “The stars are right. My time is now.”

“Your time is up,” Denenthorn snarled.
Suyuan stepped up behind Rhaven, her small warm hand coming to rest upon Rhaven’s shoulder, exuding energy, as Rhaven extended her wards, drawing Zoe and those about her into a protective cocoon.
“Turmoil,” Brit murmured, peering inside and coughing at the stench even outside the Library’s door.

Lorne lowers His hand, the scales sinking back into His palm, stepping down the stairs closer to the Thing. As he nears, He raises both arms high to the side. From each palm there grows crawling tendrils of wood, cricking, and snapping until they form a handled staff. With a sound of metal on metal, the blade of Death’s scythe extends, and He swings it, sending it through the body inhabited by Pestilence, passing it through without any visible mark left behind.

The Thing jerks violently, shrieks from the walls as a flock of ravens bursts from the hearth and pelts to the floor, beginning to decay instantly. The visage of Lilith drops from the Thing’s face and her eyes blaze white. "You think this will stop me? How many vessels do you think you can protect at once? I'll just take another...and another...choose Old One...which of these should I take?"

“But she should be dead,” Brianna blinked, “not...not go into another...it worked with the rest...."
Denenthorn growled, “I hate something that doesn't know when to quit..."
“Just give Joah back,” Blue hissed at the Thing.

Lorne drops the scythe, which disintegrates before it hits the ground. He then reaches up, wrapping His fingers around Joah's ankle, pulling her bit by bit closer, while rearing His injured hand back. The Thing looks at the Old One and grins as she is pulled down. "I believe I'll grant Blue and Denenthorn’s wish," she laughs, looking at Brit. Joah's body slumps and a rush of locusts flies from her mouth toward Brit, shattering the Library windows. The stench of rotting ravens permeates everything as the locusts fly.

Brit screams as she is surrounded, turning one way and then another, seeming confused at the mass of insects that surround her. Lorne turns, opening His mouth in a deafening howl, trying to pull them into His mouth with gale force winds, as Blue sends streak after streak of fire after them. Denenthorn clutches Blue’s arm, transferring strength to her ‘til he understands the attack is aimed at Brit, and then rushes out the door.

“Fuck!” Grr howls.
“Oh, fuck no!” Denenthorn cries in alarm, unable to tear his eyes away from his daughter.
“Go, if you need to Denny,” Rhaven yells urgently through the swarm, “I’ll try to heal Joah…”

The whirlwind continues around the floating Thing, Its hair flying wildly, wind swirling through the broken glass, pummeling Brit, lifting and tossing her through the air to the outside wall of the Library. The glass grazes her skin in prickles and points, sticking like tailor’s pins as she attempts to stand, coughing and pulling locusts from her hair.

“Not my daughter, bitch!” Denenthorn snarls.
Suyuan gasps, covering her mouth as she recoils, gripping Rhaven as a cool breeze surrounds them both, and Meng Po materializes to gaze down at her.

Lorne rushes to Brit, his throat tight, fearing her dead, hands reaching for her shoulders, air still dragging harshly into His mouth. A red glow begins to emanate from him, and the Thing’s body contorts, Its eyes and ears leaking blood, though It continues to pound Brit, tumbling and turning her, glass flying in shards, as she covers her ears trying to block It from reaching into her mind. It roars back in anger, blocked by the thing about Brit’s neck, as it slams her into the wall once again and drops her to the concrete, bouncing once like a sack of flour. Severus whirls around, striding out of the Library, uttering in Enochian as he gestures towards Brit and draws a glowing Theban symbol with one clawed hand, expelling all of his stolen soul essence into her in the form of a protective healing ward. The cuts in Brit’s skin begin to visibly heal.

Denenthorn begins to glow with power as he feels Brit's every hurt and pain, the Library begins to sing in the minds of all as a shield of healing and comfort enters those that mean no harm.

Lorne closes His eyes, sighing, and reaching back along the link way within Joah, looking about for any trace of the Horseman left to grab onto. “Joah?” He says into her mind, “Joah? I need your help.”

“Come on Joah...Sister by fate,” Blue urges.

Joah’s mouth opens slowly, blood spilling from her lips as her body shakes. The Thing feels her resistance, feels Joah grabbing, grasping the link between her and Lorne. "Lorne...." she half stammers, half whispers in her own voice.

Kneeling in front of Brit, Lorne raises His hands, palms open, and speaks into Joah's mind, "Joah? Where is the sigil?" The wind whirls in a deafening roar as Joah pushes against the Thing, calling on Creation’s power, Legion’s words echoing in her mind. She lifts up her shaking hand as the thighbone of a rat appears upon it.

Lorne reaches forward to Brit, trying to hug her close. He holds His injured hand out, willing the thighbone to it as Brit uses his cape like a rope to get to her feet. She coughs again and stares wide-eyed at the thighbone as it melts into the bit of black shown through the gash in Lorne’s gauntlet. He holds her tighter as the gauntlet itself melts away in a wave leaving His original flesh and clothing behind, spreading until even His wings are gone.

Inside the Library, Joah falls to the floor with a thud, blood leaking between her legs, pooling on the floor.

Lord of Fevers and Plagues

It slipped into her almost unnoticed with a breath of frozen air, the skittering of mice on a stone floor, and the cries of those dying with bitten and yellowed skin. It slipped in because the door had been opened before—perhaps not fully, but all It needed was a crack, a thin sliver. It slid in where the pale girl’s spirit was slightly ajar. Nareth, Labyrinth, the dreams, and her very nature had made it so. Now the Thing waited, tamping down the fire within the girl, choking off her speech, bored with her existence but compelled to wait within for the Others.

It hadn’t particularly tried to hide what It had done, though at first, only the Watcher had noticed. The Coyote had looked within the girl. He couldn’t see what the Thing was, but he knew It was there. As the Thing toyed with the girl’s body and her innate abilities so underused, the Coyote threatened. It’s response was to feed, kissing the Grrbrool with a seed of Ebola, smiling Its death grin as the Coyote stumbled into the wall of the hidden Library laboratory, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. It was a pity that Lycans healed so quickly.

When It used the girl to ravish Rhaven’s mind, the Coyote had called on his earthbound gods. “If you hurt my Family, I’ll stop you,” he snarled. He called on the Spirit in the Walls, slamming the girl’s body to the ceiling of the Library. The girl’s shoulder had been dislocated. The Thing had been amused. While It took no pleasure in the earthly sense from Its torments, It did relish the results.

The Coyote warned the Thing that he would break It’s shell if It didn’t stop. “Break it too badly and she will never come back to you," the Thing answered in rush of whispers.

“I’ll kill her ta free her from you, if I have to,” the Coyote said. In reply, the Thing extended one of the girl’s hands to the rusted, iron railing on the scaffolding where the girl’s body sat. At Its touch, a flood of ice...then a snap. It lifted the broken bar and plunged it into the girl’s chest. But the Coyote and the angel, Darkstorm, had intervened. They took the girl to the Wide River while her body yet lived, a place they believed could bind what cannot be bound. “I have dwelt ever in realms apart from the visible world," the Thing’s voices mocked as it hovered above the body.

The Coyote handed the girl to Darkstorm, and then pulled two gold coins from his pocket. The Thing watched. “Life is a hideous thing," It’s voices laughed. "You didn't want the body. I will take it." The Coyote and the Angel disagreed, working in tandem, the Angel pouring energy into the beast and the beast standing in Death’s river, the fire of the sun in his mouth and hands, the gold searing his flesh. He breathed life back into the girl’s body. And the Thing let her see the two, but only for a moment…then on a dry wind of plague It slipped back in.

It waited. Waited for the other Vessels…until the Death-Dreamer was ready. With a flood of vermin spilling from Its mouth, the pale girl's body found Her and kissed Her. As Death rushed into it's Vessel, the girl's body felt Her icy touch at the small of her back, tasted the charnel house on her lips. The Death-Dreamer had been called Blue. Together, They extinguished the fire of the Spirit in the Walls, the feeble Library Spirit. Together, They sought out the other Vessels, leaving in Their wake a red-haired girl with a touch of dengue fever and a Shelter full of dying rats, gifted with Black Death. They were unstoppable.

Except…

There was the problem of Sariel.

(quotes from HP Lovecraft)

Tohu va Bohu Series

Grr's Perspective

Tarrochi

I went looking for Nerissa Dae, walking briskly from the Library to the Voodoo Shop. I’d barely asked Cinnamon Braveheart if Nerissa was available, when Nerissa strode in. “I thought my ears were burnin’. Have ya come for yer readin’?” Nerissa looked me over from head to foot. “Pop a squat, Joah. Gimme a moment to wake up a bit more.”

I nodded and headed toward the table in the corner. Nerissa appeared much better than the last time I’d seen her. She’d been raving about seals and vomiting blood on the stone paves of the Library. A stranger from the Coven had pressed a silver coin into her wrists, causing her to fall, nearly comatose, to the floor. Whatever had caused the fit, her internal wards now had been restored. She appeared, if not whole, at least contained.

I sat down in the armchair facing the window. A rowdy group of felines were playing in the street as if the City were the best toy in the world. I gazed at Nerissa as she settled into the opposite chair quietly with a deck already in hand. “Do you want to know why I am seeking the reading? Or do you read the cards cold?”

“I’m curious,” Nerissa said. “Why would you come all the way over here to me, specifically. I figure there’d be someone else around that could help ya.” She shuffled the deck slowly and gently.

“I came to you because…well, I trust you, Neri. You were Omegan. There is the matter of these dreams,” I began. “Four riders…then a fifth….” I paused wondering how much I should say. “Blue had them, too…at any rate, I can’t cast runes for myself…my judgment is clouded.”

“Ya shouldn’t really do a readin’ on yer self anyways,” Nerissa said, looking at her deck. “So, anything specific ya wantin’ to know? I’ll warn ya now though, it’s somethin’ I’m still learnin’.”

“I want to know what the dreams mean,” I replied. “War, Famine, Pestilence, Death… then the fifth rider…it drove a chariot pulled by the others or their horses. And at one point, I rode behind.” I sighed. “Faye’Li keeps saying that something is coming…that somehow I’m involved…I want to know what it is and why it comes and whether…I will prevail.” I met Neri’s gaze. “I want to know why Blue and I dream the same dreams.”

Nerissa’s finger played over the backs of the elaborately decorated cards while she looked across the table. “Does it have anything to do with the Tohu va Bahu?...or however ya say their name….” She tapped the cards. “Pick me five cards and leave them face down before me.”

“Yes…the Tohu,” I nodded, my fingers lightly touching the cards and hovering over them for a moment. I closed my eyes, breathed one long, slow breath…and began to draw from the deck…one, two…five cards. I set them face down before Neri.

Nerissa frowned a little and sighed under her breath. “I don’t like that they call me Princess…no one calls me that but Pie to annoy me…and I’ve not been one since my foster mother disappeared.” I looked up abruptly when Neri said, “Princess”, but she didn’t notice my glance. Denenthorn’s source had said they were seeking a princess. I had thought Brit; perhaps I was wrong. Reaching across the table, Neri gathered the rest of her deck and set them to her right elbow out of the way. The small stack she took to herself, laying it down before her from the far right, moving to the left.

Neri’s hand hovered over the first card she had set to the table. She turned it over to expose the card of strength in reverse. I sat up a little straighter, following Neri’s eyes as she looked it over. “Well,” she began, “This is a way to look deep into a situation of something specific…it’s usually used for deeper readin’s actually…but….” She stroked the elaborate card’s face. “There’s some weakness presented in the face of obstacles and adversity. Usin’ tremendous power and releasin’ it at the wrong time,” she murmurs. “Inability of defendin’ oneself. Confusion, and a lack of preparedness. Illness and hardships. Distress…and failin’ of physical forces….”

Slowly, Nerissa moved to the second card from the right. “Physical vision. How we see it at the base of a mechanical level….” Nerissa’s fingers turned it over to reveal the Magician. “The Master over words, mind and matter. To turn ideas into action. To control one’s life…an initiation to start a new project or a new way of life. “ Her brow furrowed as she looked at it.

“Inability…to…defend oneself…” I murmured. “Distress…failing….” I took a deep breath of resignation. Finally I said, “I see.” I looked up at Nerissa. “But…a new way of life?” I was puzzled. “The Tohu…I think they portend…the end of the things…perhaps it is a new way…or a way vastly different and very old.”

Nerissa touched the third card in the middle. “I don’t always understand why they come out the way they do...perhaps it was the wrong choice of spread.” She looked at the card. “A mental vision….” She turned over a reversed Queen of Swords. “A gifted person with both keen logic and natural intuition, showing uncanny powers of perception and insight…” Nerissa folded her lips tightly for a moment before continuing. “One that sees easily the weakness of any argument and feels the need to savage both friend and foe alike with biting sarcasm. A hollow sense of isolation and dissatisfaction with life is covered with dry and vicious wit….”

I nodded, biting my lip…but what could I say?

Nerissa moved to the fourth card and turned over the eight of cups. “An emotional vision. One to lose the interest of a matter deeply important. Bein’ forced to abandon something in which you had to invest great love and devotion. Seekin’ earthly, physical pleasures, to the exclusion of spiritual growth and emotional fulfillments. One showin’ emotional withdrawal and lethargy..”

“Visions we have had,” I nodded. “They come whether we bid them to or not. ‘And your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions,’” I whispered.
Nerissa moved to the very last card and turned it over to show the six of swords up side down.” Mystical vision. “Conceit and intellection pride is shown. Bein’ stuck in a problem which has no apparent solution. Frustration and anxieties that are left unsettled. A trip or explorin’ is delayed in the end….” She frowned a little self-consciously to herself and finally looked up from the cards. “I hope it makes sense for ya….

“It makes no sense and all the sense in the world, Neri.” I stood up. “Thank you. The reading was…invaluable. What payment do you seek?”

“Nothing,” Neri replied. “Consider it a token to make up for all trouble I’ve caused.” The demoness leaned forward, her hands in her lap now, and stared at the spread. “I wish I knew what they meant when they spoke of the Storm comin’ to look for me….” Neri’s words were soft and far away with her thoughts and in the end she shook her head.

I folded my arms across my chest and gazed out the window. “There is a gathering storm, Neri. But know this…you will always have sanctuary with the Institute….”

Nerissa quickly gathered the cards neatly and carefully, handling the custom deck with delicately boned fingers. “If it’s not to yer satisfaction, we can try for another readin’ later.”

I watched as the ornate deck vanished in Neri’s hands. Then I slipped my hand in my pocket and fumbled for something in my skirt. “You left this, Neri, when you were…ill.” I set down a small black phial, full of Neri’s vomited blood. “I would normally keep it…but let there be no debt between us.” I smiled. “I used only a very little of it…in the lab.”

Nerissa ‘s eyes flashed with fear and alarm. She snatched the phial from the table and looked at me. “Why? Seein’ what I’m made of?”

I shook my head. “Your blood does not begin to tell your story, Neri. But it is safe with me.”

Nerissa looked at the container, watching it freeze as she gripped it tight enough to shatter. “I hope so,” was all she said, meeting my gaze.

I nodded and headed back out into the street.

Threnody

Cara Amica,

I hasten this letter to you, Blue, because no moment must be lost when a heart is breaking. I have thought of you often since the darkness of recent events. Though we cannot assist another's night, I hope that she who received immortality against her will has found some measure of peace. It was a bloody gift and one not willingly accepted.

To remember your sister-wife now is all any of us can do. I will not forget that she saved my life the night I went with Labyrinth through the fire and the void. But it is with grief now that our remembrance must be done. Perhaps she does not go so far, as we who stay behind suppose. Perhaps she will come closer to you, Blue, for the lapse of her corporeal clothes.

I can only hope that my broken words have helped you. I felt so faint in uttering them, thinking of your great pain.

With greatest sadness for your loss,
I remain,
J.M.


(Adapted from the funerary letters of Emily Dickenson.)

R.I.P., Picket McDonnell

Denenthorn stalked by the Shadows

The Depth of Blue

I stood waiting just inside the gates to the Pit. At the sound of boot heels on stone, I turned to see Blue at the open doorway. “We need to talk, Blue,” I said, stepping closer to her and unfolding my arms from across my chest. Blue had been to the Library. Tried to stab Grr, then to drown him. There were none of the usual familiar smiles between us.

“Perhaps,” Blue said evenly. She fingered the hilt of her dagger drawing it out, looking at me with something akin to sadness.

My eyes never leaving the dagger, I began to frown. “Blue…is it true that you tried to use that on Grr? In the Library?”

“It’s not like I can feel bad about it, Joah. I got no guilt. It’s nothing personal,” Blue shrugged.

“What do you mean nothing personal?” I frowned. “When you draw a weapon on my loved ones, it becomes personal, Blue.” I looked from the blade to Blue’s face. What I felt was a mixture of anger at what she had done, and worry and concern for her.

Blue tossed the blade into the air and caught it. “It will become personal, Joah…for the whole group. Every Omegan.” As she stepped closer to me, I could feel the fire rising within me, flames licking in eyes.

“What do you mean, Blue?” I asked quietly.

“It’s just family business,” she said off handedly. “You always knew it would come to this at some point.”

I stood my ground, wary and alert. “Speak plainly, Blue. I know you.
What you are. What you were. And the girl…is not gone…no matter how hard you try to kill her off.”

Blue gave a disconcerting grin. “Family comes first. I do as I have to. Joah, I got no conscience. I can’t feel bad or guilt over anything...Legion ate that part of my soul before I turned.”

“That's not true, Blue,” I replied, shaking my head. “I saw you as a feline. I saw your spirit.” The loneliness, the sense of grief, had overwhelmed her in neko form. A kindness and consideration few have ever seen had welled up within her.

“Sadness and loss are not the same as guilt,” Blue frowned, tilting the blade and moving forward. “You can ask Legion yourself because I asked her to eat the part I did not want.” A look of indefinable sadness clouded Blue’s face. “I got rid of it because of what I had done,” she barely whispered.

She’d just been a girl, living on the edge of demon territory with her parents and her brother, when a demon had come knocking on their door. Her father had been the first to die, his head torn off like a paper doll’s. Her mother was next, dying in a spray of blood as Blue and her brother ran. She lost her brother by the tooth and fang of a lycan.

Or so she had thought.

I stepped closer to Blue, full of uncertainty. I dared not push into her mind, her spirit. To do so would have ended with a knife in my chest or across my throat. But I had to try. As I moved forward, I began to pulse prana, a violet flame shimmering around me.

A look of uncertainty crossed Blue’s face. She gripped the hilt of her dagger, looking as though she was losing some internal argument with herself. “Joah….” she said evenly.

My heart was pounding in my chest. I sucked in a quick breath and pulled deeply from within me, sending a rush of warmth over Blue. Not in her, not pushing into her, but attempting to surround her with flame, transforming my fear into courage, my anxiety into peace and her inner, hidden, self-hatred into love.

“Blue,” I spoke quietly. “You are my friend. This is not business. I know you. What you are. What you were. Perhaps what you may one day become.”

Blue’s eyes met mine. “I'm quite capable of hurting friends, Joah. Just ask Pix and Delrith. Don't start predicting the future…I get enough of that from Rayden.”

I took another breath and reached for the dagger. As I did, tongues of violet fire licked up Blue's arm. I opened my being, flooding her with warmth. An enticing scent began to surround us, as something between us connected. The scent of the things that Blue, the girl, had loved best, reminders of love and longing for home.

“You are more than friend, Blue,” I murmured. “I don't understand why. Or how. You are family.”

Blue gripped her dagger tighter, her blue eyes flashing with inner light, as she hissed, “You’re not a Shadow…you can't be family.” She shook a little as the flames pulsed and undulated around me and toward Blue in endless shades of violet and purple and pink.

I moved closer. “Not Shadow family, Blue. Not Omegan family. You and I alone. Family.” My body was beginning to look almost transparent as the flames curled up from beneath my feet, passing through and around me and over my head.

Blueray bit on her lips hard enough to make the blood well up. “What...?”

“We are, Blue,” I whispered. “Bonded to each other.”

Blueray shook her head as if trying to awaken, raising the dagger in one hand. “Joah for once don't talk in riddles.”

I breathed deeply, walking toward the dagger and laying one hand on Blue’s cheek, stroking it. “Haven't you ever wondered, Blue, why we are friends? Why we watch each other's backs, even though we are light and dark? Why we dream the same dreams?”

“I don't know, Joah. I hardly know anything,” she sighed.

I reached up to brush Blue's hair back from her eyes. A radiant spiral swirled up from me, descending over Blue, and blazing through her, dark and purple. “We are, Blue.”

Blue shook her head slightly. “I only have my twin brother, and he is lost to me right now.”

“We are, Blue,” I continued. “Family.” I continued to pulse prana, washing it over Blue, not taking, but giving and opening myself to her.

“Picket isn't going to be happy...” Blue seemed to finally relax, the blade lowering. “Drinking buddies is how we started, dear.”

I smiled wistfully at Blue, watching her sheath her dagger after relenting, and in the end, not injuring me. Her tail flicked behind her. I took my hand from her cheek and lowered it to hold hers. As I began to breathe more evenly, the flames began to draw back into me. Like gently lapping waves, they cascaded from Blue, over her arms, drifting back to the center of my being.

“Perhaps I'd better head back to the Library,” I said quietly. Blue tilted her head, watching me closely. She shivered as if she could feel her spikes and wings wanting to come out through her skin. I kissed her lightly on the lips.

As Blue returned my kiss, she whispered, “I still don't know what you are….”

I smiled enigmatically at Blue. “You will.”

“One day?” she asked ruefully.

Nodding my assent, I wrapped my arms around her and held her for a moment before heading down the stone steps.

I could feel her watching me as I went.


Read Blue's perspective.

A more equal exchange

I sat staring out the window from my chair, looking quietly at the rain when I heard GrrBrool’s padding steps. I glanced up at the banister, where he stood giving me a canine smile.

“Hello there, Spirit Gal…quiet night?”

“Quiet?” I replied. “No...not exactly. Abi's still missing.”

Grr nodded thoughtfully. “Locked in a punishment realm…some dream realm…or both.”

“What makes you say a punishment realm?” I asked.

“Cages, chains, no eyeballs…sounds pretty punishmenty ta me,” Grr sighed, walking down the stairs to the drawing room. “That and apparently she said it was punishment.”

My eyes widened with surprise. “You've…talked with her?”

Grr shook his head. “No. Blue of all people. Came in and wanted ta help. How’s that fer screwy?”

I couldn’t help smiling, thinking of Blue and our improbable friendship, formed over a shared bottle of vodka. She’d broken more bones and tortured more people than I cared to count…and her blood had poisoned Grr…yet some indefinable bond drew us together. Grr’s eyes sought mine.

“You like her, dontcha?” Grr smiled.

“I do,” I nodded. Thinking again of Abi, I focused my attention on the lycan. “Grr, Severus is going to take us to Abi. He won't take a price,” I murmured. “Lar would give it freely, but he won't take it. He chooses punishment instead. He won't…let us stand with him in that, either. But he will take us.”

Grr wheeled about at my words. “Really? Fuck.” He began scowling. “Fuck. I should just yank her myself…Fuck tha risk.”

“I'm not sure that you can, Grr,” I sighed. “There is…a Magician…” I looked up from my cushion to see Omega suddenly still before the hearth. Her red hair gleamed in the firelight. She stood regally in blood red corset dress, the bodice overlayed with beadwork, and ribbons cinching up her waist.

“Yer Ladyship.” Grr gave a slight bow. I nodded a greeting, relief washing over me at Omega’s arrival. Grr turned back, speaking to me. “I'd not count on that, Spirit Gal.” Grr walks to the Other place, between the planes and among them. I had no doubt he could go after Abi. Whether he would return whole was another matter.

“Grr,” I explained, “The deal with the Lightbringer has been made. The die cast. Severus will be punished whether he goes or not.”

“Well,” sighed Grr, “I guess it’s too late then.”

Omega looked at both of us, smiling evenly. “Hello GrrBrool, Joah…are we still speaking of Severus?”

“Well, tha Little One, actually,” Grr frowned.

Omega turned to face the fire. “One who won't feed, and one who won't stop….”

Grr nodded. “We should mate ‘em.”

“I am not sure who that would be more cruel to, Grrbrool,” Omega replied.

I looked at Omega. “Nor I. Rago would be heartsick. As would Abi. And when she returns…what then? This feeding…I suspect it’s been going on all along. I need to speak with her Father. He warned her of this. Repeatedly.”

Omega frowned. “And what do you think Lorne can do, now?”

“He can explain to me more of her nature, Lady. Perhaps help me to help her…find a more equal exchange for her magicks.”

“I dunno.” Grr padded over and placed one paw on my shoulder. “Can we trust…Lorne?”

Omega nodded her head. “Perhaps in matters of Abi's welfare. Perhaps. Then again, feeding Nareth to the Shadows was hardly in Abi's best interests, was it?”

I looked at the floor. “I…trust him,” I said quietly.

“Well, Joah,” Omega replied, “Lorne has always been completely trustworthy...to act in his own interest.”

Grr smiled grimly. “That we can trust.”

“But Legion…” I trailed of.

“It is another matter entirely,” Grr growled. “I don’t trust It. And I don’t understand it.”

I said nothing for a moment and continued to stare at the floor. “She helped me…with Nareth’s blade, Grr. And She helped me…leave the fear behind.” I sighed. “I don't understand Her either, Grr. But….” I was lost for words.

“Joah,” Omega began, “Legion gave me the Eden Soil. It enabled me to save Nareth, to make her my Childe. Without it, Nareth would have died…but like all of Legion's gifts...it has come at a price. Legion does not give from kindness. And all her gifts have a price.”

“I didn’t say It wasn't powerful, Spirit Gal,” Grr said gently.

“But if She…or Lorne…are able to help, Abi….” I stammered.

Grr sighed and pinched his muzzle. “Why can’t we ever have nice things?”

His comment confused me. “Nice…things?” I asked.

“Errr, old sayin, Spirit Gal,” Grr replied. “We should do this on our own.”

Girl talk

I stepped into the Library hearing the sound of cheery conversation and seeing a crew sitting at the Lady’s desk. My head was pounding, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down, but I had work to do. I nodded a greeting at Athanaric Criss, Bridgette Plunkett and Blueray Darkes as I walked by, then sought a cushion by the fire, pulled out my small tablet and pencil stub and began to write. I found it hard to focus between the pain in my temples and the buzzing conversation that seemed to be flowing through a wide and puzzling variety of topics: why any woman would do what a man told her to do, the dangers of riding a bike alone, and the sociological merits of artists versus scientists. Athanaric – A – wandered off to work on his research. I turned my attention once more to my tablet and settled in.

Suddenly Brit exclaimed, "I got a new shiny bullet!" Apparently, she’d been most distressed that someone had taken her other one. I could almost see Blue blink in astonishment, and – believe me – astonishing Blue is something of a feat in itself. Brit began rummaging through her pack. "It's pretty and shiny and, look!" I looked up from my writing and peeked behind the spiral staircase to see. "It fits in my pocket with my lipstick."

Blue grinned ruefully, "Brit, shiny as it is, those things are dangerous when fired from a gun. Bloody well hurt too." Having been shot in the leg, Blue knew. She began explaining about being shot, which, of course, genuinely troubled Brit until Blue reassured her. “It’s perfectly healed up,” she said. “Even the scar is gone. That’s when I changed races."

Brit lifted her pack, putting the bullet away. "I don't have a gun,” she said with a lisp. “And they don't hurt if you don't have a gun. Guns shoot them. I could throw it, but I don't think that would really hurt anyone." I looked up again; Brit was nodding to herself, pretty sure of what she was saying. "Besides!” she perked up, “It used to be Ethan's. And that makes it extra special."

Blue giggled leaning back in her chair, "Might leave a mark if you threw it at a forehead or something.” Blue clearly found Brit, her bullet, and her love and admiration for Ethan, rather endearing.

Brit suddenly dropped her pack and let out a small, soft, “Oh.” Her entire tone and demeanor changed. Brit is often slow to process what she’s heard, and she takes the words of others quite seriously and literally. It was beginning to dawn on her what Blue had meant about changing races. Brit was remembering. "I did not know you died,” she said. “Sorry. I would have come to the funeral."

Brit was gradually becoming accustomed, as was I, to people dying and resurrecting as something else. But the sadness of the change . . . my thoughts began drifting in different directions, thinking of Larissa, wondering about Nareth, trying to feel whether she was lost to us for good. My focus was brought back to the moment when Brit perked up and laughed, telling Blue, “But your hair is way prettier now!” To say that Brit sees the silver lining in every cloud is a bit of an understatement.

Blue waved a hand in the air, “I wouldn't worry about not coming to my funeral, Brit. I died twice in a sense and didn't have a funeral for either of them." She grinned. "I do like my hair, though.”

I smiled to myself at the conversation. I love Brit and Blue, two polar opposites of innocence and experience, but each strong and loyal and perceptive to the core. I looked down at my tablet and began, once again, my attempt to write, trying to piece together what had been happening to me of late. The headaches were coming more frequently, as well as the remembrances of smoke and steel smelting, of alarms and flashing lights. I sighed wanting no more of my own contemplation but was unable to filter the images from my thoughts. I heard a third voice at the door and realized that Picket McDonnell had strolled in, greeting her sister, Blue, and introducing herself to Brit. And because Brit is in love – truly, deeply in love – the talk turned as it so often does in her presence to beloveds and marriage. Brit’s first question of Picket was her usual: "Do you have a Beloved?"

I folded my tablet, tucked it and my pencil in a pocket in my skirt and stood before the fire, stretching. Perhaps the best distraction would be simply to be with others. I picked up a cushion and wandered over to the table to see Picket flashing her wedding ring and talking about her husband, a vampire named Alzreal, whom she pronounced very sexy, although Blue muttered something under her breath about him being annoying as hell. Though she was smiling, Picket looked terrible.

Brit was beaming happily and launched into a fairy-tale description of her wedding pulling out an album of her photos and handing them to Picket. If I believed in happily ever afters, Brit and Ethan’s love would be the proof of it. But there is nothing absolute in life. No loves that last forever. I tossed the cushion on the floor and sat between Blue and Brit, waving hello to all three who smiled in return. I needed to be away from my thoughts; the cheerful banter was a light breeze to me, helping the pictures in my mind drift away.

Blue laughed, “I couldn't make it to Brit's wedding but I got photos. Picket's took so long I ended up sleeping on the church floor.” She gave a mock-serious pout, "You got any idea how bad it is to wake up in a church? I had at least two angels crowding around me until I was awake enough to move".

Picket snickered about Bruno being a windbag, then pulled out a small wedding album from her pocket and tossed it to Brit. Picket grinned as Brit began perusing the photos, but her smile contained a grimace of pain. I wondered what was troubling her. Nevertheless, we all took turns looking through photographs of Brit’s and Ethan’s wedding. Blue, my best and favorite drinking companion pulled a small flask of vodka from her pocket and passed it to me. I tipped the flask and took several fiery sips. “I love weddings,” I said, taking another sip and handing the flask back to Blue. “So much better than funerals – although the liquor at a wake. . . ."

Picket giggled, “Yeah, but you have open bars at weddings.”

I smiled as Blue’s thoughts scattered their way toward me. She was wishing she’d had a funeral for either one of her deaths, thinking it would have been nice to lay there with everyone telling her corpse how they loved or hated her. Then she’d have risen and whacked them all about their heads for being mean to a dead person. That’s just one of the reasons I love Blue. Cute . . . and evil.

"Too many weddings recently,” Blue said aloud. “I got two more to go to soon.” She handed the bottle to Picket, who promptly waved it off holding her stomach and complaining of feeling sick.

“I think someone slipped something in my drink the other day,” Picket explained. I watched as Blue’s mirthful expression turned serious with concern.

Brit looked Picket up and down then blurted out, "Are you pregnant?"

I burst out laughing. "I . . . I don't think demons can get pregnant," Picket stammered.

Blue smirked, “It’s possible.”

“Nisha got pregnant,” Brit agreed. “And Lorne . . . um. . . ." Brit paused trying to remember what she’d been told. “Lorne spawned with Larissa. Only Larissa gave birth to his baby. Or it was her baby and his spawn." She blinked. “I'm not sure how that goes.”

Picket McDonnell shook her head. "Damn it! Someone should have told me this earlier. I am not used to this because I was a vampire and there is no chance in getting preggo when you are dead," she muttered.

Brit nodded. “Ethan says vampires do not have babies without some kind of unholy act.”

Blue began laughing, “When was the last time you and Alz did anything?”

Picket blinked at Blue, “Like . . . um . . . every day.”

Brit patiently explained to Blue, "Beloveds do things all of the time."

I began to study Picket carefully, "Do you mind if I take your hand?" I asked. She shook her head “no” and proffered her hand, which I took in both of mine. Pushing gently toward her, I probed for new life, new thoughts, and a second heartbeat. There was none. I looked up and smiled at her. "It appears you aren't with spawn. Or child. I'm not sure how that works either, Brit."

Picket sighed slightly. "Good – cause I might eat my own baby like cats do,” she said morosely.

“I don’t have a beloved,” Blue mused. “I just have warm bodies who share my bed.”

Brit looked at Blue with great seriousness. “Everyone needs a Beloved, Blue,” she said.

I smiled to myself at the talk of lovers and beloveds, but turned my focus back to Picket. "You are sick, though.” I pushed a bit toward her mind with my own. In her memories, I could see a vampire, slipping something into a goblet in the Haven. "I think it was the drink."

Picket frowned grumble, "Damn KA.”

I nodded. "I can help you, if you like. It troubles you now, but if you leave it unattended it will worsen."

Picket grimaced as a fresh wave of nausea hit her. “Yes, please,” she replied.

I still held Picket’s hand in my own two, but I dropped my left hand to my lap, palm up. I breathed deeply, sending a pulse of my essence through Picket, washing over her, pulling the poison away from her. It was worse than I’d at first thought. The KA’d meant to kill Picket, not just sicken her. Oily black residue formed on the fingertips of my open hand as I took the poison within me. I crumpled a little, holding my own stomach in pain. Picket gasped slightly as the sickness moved from her body, shivering as it crawled from her like a thousand little spiders.

I could feel Brit’s eyes on me, watching. She looked from Picket to me and back again to us both. Nibbling her lower lip, she lisped, “You took that inside of you. . . .”

Picket asked quietly, “Are you gonna be ok?”

“You think it’s that stuff that Sal gave to Bruno?” Blue wondered. “He said its bad for demons.”

I nodded, “It seems to be very bad for demons,” and wrapped my arms tightly around my stomach. “I’ll be fine. It will just take a little while.” Picket was frowning and watching me closely. There was really nothing I could do to reassure her that the poison and its effects would fade.

“So,” Blue muttered, “Whatever Sally has been dishing out is a rather bad thing indeed. Think we need words with him?”

"You both should speak with him," I replied, knowing full well that Blue's method of talking would mostly likely involve some physical persuasion of the violent sort. Blue’s expression of concern morphed into a wicked grin. Picket’s mouth widened into a dark smile showing a row of very white, perfectly sharp teeth.

Abruptly, Blue stood up, handed Brit a box of plushy kitties, and then turned to Picket, “Lets head to the church. Take it easy, Joah.” Picket nodded to Blue and with military sternness, they headed out the door of the Library.

Brit was obviously distressed that I was in pain. Pulling her legs into her chair and resting her chin on her knees, she gave me a confused and worried look. I stood unsteadily, leaning on Omega's desk. "I think I'd better lie down a bit. Brit, do you mind helping me to the sofa?"

She took my arm and braced me as I walked. “I don't think you should risk yourself like this, Joah.” She tucked a pillow on the couch, helped me settle and began looking around for my teakettle, which she laid on the embers of the fire.

“I’m a shaman, Brit. This is how I heal when other methods won’t work. There is always some risk, but so far, all the injuries I have taken have faded with time.” To be honest, I’d only recently realized this fact. It alarmed me. At first, after awakening in the City, I’d thought that any injury, any poison I took within my body healed. But I’d had time to think about the Earth from the Garden. I’d taken it in quite by accident the night Omega’s Chylde had come into existence. It remained within me, burning clearly, cleanly. And the plague I had taken from Sirenpetal – the swirling blackness I had inadvertently unleashed from her – I had found that small pock scars from its effects yet remained along the base of my ribs.

Brit said nothing for a moment as she lifted the handle of the kettle with her skirt and pulled it from the embers. "And what happens when it is so great that it cannot have time to heal?" she lisped. It was a question I’d pondered deeply, knowing there is a great difference between fading and healing.

“I think that if an injury were too severe,” I began, “If I somehow misgauged it, that it might not have time to fade. I don't seem to have the ability to heal myself.” Another cramp shot through me. “I can only take the pains of another. Then wait.”

Brit began talking about two Omegan doctors whom she thought would have treated me. They were twins: River and Rain. Doctors who healed with hands and with their magicks, scholarly curanderas, I suppose. I wondered again at the number of doctors who’d once resided within the walls of the Library, all mysteriously gone. Even Dominic Salving – I hadn’t seen him in weeks. Now his return seemed temporary at best. Although Brit thought Drs. River and Rain could have helped me, I suspected not. Whatever was going on inside me, magick had not been effective against it. Not even Mirah, with her great skill, had been able to touch the headaches and the pock scars.

Pouring the hot water into a teacup, and setting the kettle to one side, Brit made the tea and brought it to me. I thanked her and began to sip, but nearly spilled the whole thing as another I felt another cramp go through me. I held the teacup out to Brit, “Perhaps I should just try to sleep." I was afraid to lean over and set it on the floor.

Brit watched me with wide eyes. Knowing Brit, I suppose she was wondering whether those I help would return the favor if they could. I didn’t know at the time that Picket would more than return the favor in a few days. Picket would save my life. Taking the teacup, Brit held it for a moment and simply said, "Okay . . . rest. . . . . "

I closed my eyes, sank deep into the pillow and tried to sleep.