Snippets

[Greywind]

Tara

 

After giving the table one final wipe down with a damp rag and shaking it into the bus tub holding the dishes she had taken off the table, Tara replaced the shakers and ketchup bottle in the middle of the table. She slipped the menus into their holder and let out a heavy sigh when she realized that she would have to refill the napkin dispenser.

 

She lifted the bus tub and carried it to the kitchen window. She placed it into the opening where the dishwasher would collect it from. Tara put an empty tub on the tray stand and brushed back a fallen lock of hair with a finger. She turned and glanced out the window to the gray late afternoon. The low clouds were threatening more snow.

 

Starting to turn for the box of napkins under the counter, Tara stopped when she saw a black limousine pull into the parking lot of the diner. For a moment she was caught up in memories of old hopes and dreams, before the tinkling bell over the door brought her back to reality, and the diner. Two women and a man came in. “Sit wherever you'd like,” Tara called to them. “I'll be with you in just a moment.”

 

“Thanks!” the redhead called back. For a moment Tara wondered who she was to be riding in a limousine. Especially in Nowhere, Maine. Tara went about collecting sets of tableware and place mats. The man helped each woman remove their coat and hang it from a coat rack before taking his own off. The man reminded her of a lawyer. Perhaps it was an unfair observation, but Tara had had enough of lawyers for the time being.

 

The group chose a table in the middle and sat. Both the man and the raven-tressed woman had briefcases that they tucked near their feet. The redhead sat where she could look out the window.

 

“Is it always this cold?” the redhead asked.

 

Tara went about putting down the paper place mats and rolled silverware in front of each. “Welcome to winter in Maine,” she said with a smile. “What can I get you to drink?”

She got their orders and moved towards the counter when she realized that a man, apparently the driver of the limousine, had sat at a small table by himself. His coat was draped over the chair across from him with his hat resting atop that. He wore sunglasses and his hair was dark. Leather driving gloves were on his hands. His shirt was a black button-down. Something about him gave Tara pause. He had glanced at her and she felt that he had assessed her somehow.

 

Collecting another place mat and roll of tableware, she gathered a small pot and filled it with hot water, setting those on a tray. She added four coffee cups to her tray, mentally cursing herself that the tables hadn't been ready for customers, but the day had been slow. Tara shook her head to clear her thoughts and got the rest of the things that she needed. The last thing she placed on the tray was a carafe of coffee.

 

Setting the things out on the table and pouring coffee into the upturned cups, she gave the redhead a smile when she tore open the tea bag and poured the hot water over it into its own cup. She used it to warm her hands.

 

Tara moved off to the lone man. She set the mat and napkin rolled around the silverware on the table. “Coffee?” she offered.

 

“Don't stand there. Please,” was added almost as an afterthought.

 

Perplexed, Tara asked him, “Where would you like me to stand?”

 

The man cocked his head to the side and looked up at her, a slight smile playing around his mouth. “Anywhere you like. Just not where I can't see that table, the front door, or the access to the kitchen. And yes, please, to the coffee.”

 

“You a bodyguard?” she asked, pouring coffee.

 

The smile played around his mouth again, without ever fully forming. “I'm just the driver.”

 

“Well, Mr. Driver, what can I get you?”

 

“What's the special?”

 

Tara gave him a quirky smile and said, “Nothing's ever special here.”

 

The driver flipped open the menu and gave it a quick glance. “I'll have the meatloaf and mashed potatoes,” he said sliding the menu back in place.

[Greywind]

Leah wiped at her eyes. “I don't...” Her eyes opened wide. “Move!” Leah wasn't sure what it was or how it worked, but some sixth sense she had let her know when she was in immediate danger.

 

Jason knew the tone of Leah's voice. He didn't question her. Jason's feet worked the clutch and the accelerator. His hand worked the gear shift. He focused on making the car move faster.

 

Turning to look over the trunk of the Corvette, Leah cut loose with an arc of lightning from a raised hand. Jason felt the pressure wave at almost the same moment he heard the premature detonation of the missile that Leah had intercepted. Then the hail of 30mm high explosive fragmenting rounds started tearing into the asphalt of the Pacific Coast Highway.

 

“Oh, god,” Leah said quietly. Jason glanced into the dash-mounted rearview mirror to see the tour bus buck and shift under the assault. He adjusted the mirror to catch sight of a twin rotor helicopter. Tracer rounds were catching up to his mother's car. Leah felt the car jump into fourth gear.

[Greywind]

Jason watched Leah in silence. Blood still spattered the white of her uniform. She moved slowly and quietly out of the study and into the hall. He stood motionless until he could no longer hear her footsteps. He casually lowered himself into a waiting chair. The chair was comfortable, but Jason wasn't.

 

After some time had passed, Jason's fingers started tapping on a keyboard. Slowly at first, but faster and with some determination as his thoughts began to cement in his mind. Dealing with Dan Thomas always seemed to annoy Jason. With the day's earlier events, Jason was angry with him.

 

His thoughts turned to Steven Bauer and his anger turned to a white-hot fury. His fingers stopped moving. Too many dead on Jason's account. Too many dead that Bauer was responsible for. Jason shoved the keyboard away. He sat in silence in the darkening room.

 

Having lost track of time, Jason was startled when Mentor spoke. “You may wish to check on Leah,” the AI told him.

 

“She's taking a shower, Mentor.”

 

“Yes, sir, she is, but not in the manner that you believe.”

 

Jason turned his attention to the wall monitor. “Show me.” The monitor flickered to life with an image of Leah standing in the shower. She had removed her boots. Other than that, she was still wearing her uniform, the tights she sometimes wore with it, and her single glove. Her head was pressed against the wall. Her hair was mostly dry. Her bare fist hammered against the tiles of the shower, sparks flying with every impact.

 

Not wanting to waste time, Jason flew. He landed outside the bathroom. The doorknob turned easily. Either Leah had not locked it or Mentor had released it before Jason arrived. He didn't bother knocking.

 

Leah took no notice of his presence until Jason gently laid his hand on her shoulder. She turned to look up at him. Her eyes were puffy and red. She was still crying. “She was just a child!” Leah buried her face in Jason's chest.

 

Jason lightly lifted Leah in his arms and gently settled to the floor of the shower, letting the water wash over them both.

[Greywind]

An Offer

 

The Mercedes cut through the night, the beams of its headlights reflected off the wet asphalt and disappeared into the dark. Traffic was light, an occasional car or truck passing by with long periods before another was seen. The radio played jazz at a low volume.

 

The eyes of the driver darted to the clock in the dash. He had an appointment to keep. Considering the man he had agreed to meet, and not being given the choice of venue, he wanted to be early. Little chance of that now. A wrong turn thanks to the GPS unit in the car had set him back at least a half hour before he had managed to correct the error.

 

The GPS unit announced his eminent arrival at the same time that his eyes picked out the sign. “Lo 's & Grill”, it read. Slowing the car, the driver pulled over into an unpaved parking lot. Pickup trucks and motorcycles tended to be the vehicles of choice.

 

The Mercedes rolled to a stop and the engine was killed. Glancing through the windshield of the car and through a window inside the building, the driver got the impression that Lou's Bar & Grill was maybe a baby-step above a dive. It reflected his memories of the man he was here to meet.

 

Swinging open the car door, the driver glanced down at a rain puddle. He sighed. Lifting himself clear of the water by way of the door and the roof, he stepped over it. He didn't relish the thought of getting back into his car. At least not with dry shoes. Perhaps if he got in from the passenger side he could avoid soaking his shoes. He closed the door and pressed a button on the key fob. The car chirruped twice in response with a flashing of the lights.

 

The driver smoothed down the front of his suit coat and tie, buttoning it closed. He caught his reflection in a mirror on a pickup. He was a handsome black man. His hair was cropped short and neat, both on top of his head and his beard. He cast a quick glance at his watch, the only apparent piece of jewelry he wore, squared his shoulders and headed for the door.

 

Once inside, his eyes scanned the patrons; bikers, truckers and rednecks. More men than women in attendance. He was overdressed in his business suit. The bartender was burly, bald and bearded. He picked out two others, sitting quietly together, that he figured were bouncers. Sitting alone in a booth in the back, drinking beer from a bottle, was his appointment. He made his way back.

 

“Ace,” he said by way of greeting the black man. His hair was mostly black, but tending towards salt and pepper. His face was hard and rough, with a nose that had been broken at least once.

 

“Dalton,” Ace said. “I see your tastes in bars hasn't improved any.”

 

Dalton gestured towards the seat opposite. “Sit.”

 

Giving the bench seat a look of disgust, Ace unbuttoned his suit coat and slid in. Dalton let out a loud whistle to get the bartender's attention. He held up his bottle by the neck with two fingers raised over it. The bartender nodded and pulled two bottles out, passing them to a serving girl.

 

Looking Ace over, Dalton said, “You look like you've moved up in the world.”

 

“You look like you've moved sideways,” Ace said. “The only thing missing are the sergeant's stripes and olive drab.” Dalton snorted. “You asked. I'm here.” He took another look around the bar, “Wherever 'here' is,” he said.

 

The serving girl set the bottles on the end of the table. “Go away,” Dalton said without looking at her. She retreated to the bar. Quirking a smile at Ace, Dalton said, “Somewhere off the radar. That's all that matters.” He pulled a picture out of the breast pocket of his plaid flannel shirt and laid it on the table. He reached for the two bottles, setting one closer to Ace. “To absent...associates,” he said lifting his bottle in a toast.

 

Ace shot Dalton a look that would burn a hole through the other man. He lifted the bottle in front of him and clacked it against Dalton's. “To absent associates,” he said and took a drink. Dalton did the same.

 

“King is gone.”

 

Raising an eyebrow at the statement, Ace said, “I heard rumors. But I also heard about a run in with one of the Guardians not too long ago.”

 

“Ain't him. Guy I work for got his hands on King's gear. Had a little contest of mercenaries to see who got to wear it. Lots of corpses. Last man standing got it.”

 

Ace put his bottle down and slid it to the side. “What happened to King?”

 

“Got a hunting knife in the neck,” Dalton said. Ace looked surprised. “You remember that cross-country hunting trip of Callahan's a few years back?” Ace nodded. It had been quite the news for a time. “Seems they ran into each other. King ended up with his own knife shoved through his neck.”

 

“One to Longbow,” Ace said quietly. “What about the others?”

 

Dalton belched. The sour smell of beer and cigar annoyed Ace. “Queen is still active. If you want to call it that. Doubt you'd recognize her, though. Seems to be more comfortable in skirts and high heels now, than combat gear. Still good for tossing stuffed shirts that think too highly of themselves around.”

 

Ace laughed. “Karen was always good at that. Like that officer when we were in working out of Korea.”

 

“Shoulda kept his hands off her,” Dalton nodded in agreement. “He was lucky she only scarred his face and left him both eyes. Scary woman.”

 

“You just didn't know her very well, Jack,” Ace said. “What about Ten?”

 

Jack Dalton shrugged. “Off the grid. Probably found a rock to crawl under.”

 

“So what's this about?”

 

Dalton ran his thumb over the photograph of the five of them before picking it up and stuffing it back into his pocket. “Got a job. A stuffed shirt is looking for some people that are willing to not play nice with some other people. Money is good. Got some nice benefits. You'd get to see Karen again.” Dalton lifted a small computer and set it on the table before sliding it closer to Ace. On top of it, Dalton set a small gift box.

 

“What's this?”

 

Dalton tapped the computer. “Consider this your target acquisition gear. You agree, you open it up and it sends a message to the stuffed shirt. When he wants you to go to work, he'll send you a file with the target and any special instructions. This,” he tapped the gift box, “is a token of your position in the ranks.”

 

“What if I don't agree?”

 

Dalton sighed. “That could be rather messy, depending.”

 

“Depending on what?”

 

“Your ninja hoodoo.”

 

Ace smiled. “I thought you didn't believe in ninja magic.”

 

Shrugging, Dalton said, “It don't impress me any. Not what I've seen you do. Not what I've seen White Tiger do.”

 

“You've seen the Tiger?”

 

Dalton nodded slowly. “Seen him. Faced him. Almost killed him.”

 

“Almost? What stopped you?”

 

“The man I work for.”

 

“This stuffed shirt?” Ace asked.

 

Dalton took another swig of beer. “No. Him, I work with. The man I work for is downright scary. He tells you to do something or not to do something, you listen.”

 

“I find it hard to believe that you almost killed Kaneda.”

 

Dalton shrugged again. “Believe it or don't. Makes no difference to me. You in?”

 

He sat and thought for a long moment. His gaze traveled from the computer to Dalton and back. “Pass,” Ace finally said, sliding the pile back across the table. “I am not interested in selling my freedom. Just my skills.” He pulled his bottle back in front of himself. “Although,” he said, reaching into an inner pocket of his coat, “there is this.” He slid a small plastic bag across the table.

 

Picking it up and examining the detonator and Jack of Spades card inside, after a few moments Dalton said, “Copperfield. That was you?” Ace grinned and shrugged. “You cost me two hundred thou on that job.”

 

Ace whistled. “Two hundred thousand to blow her apartment with her in it? Tsk, tsk. Doctor Copperfield was worth five hundred thousand to me alive.”

 

“Five hundred... Who?” Dalton asked, incredulous.

 

“The Warmonger,” Ace said. Dalton dropped the detonator on the table. “He wanted to make use of her skills.”

 

“It seems,” Dalton started to say. “It seems that both of us have been keeping company with some pretty powerful people.” He considered his former associate. “Where you off to now?”

 

“New Orleans.”

 

“For work?”

 

Ace considered before answering. “Yes. I took a contract with a gentleman. It seems someone else with ninja magic is causing him a bit of difficulty.”

 

“Who's your target?”

 

“Grimblade.”

 

Dalton whistled. “Good luck.”

 

Ace tilted his head in acceptance. “Give my regards to Queen,” he said as he rose.

[FrankL]

I really like how this scene takes place at Lou's Bar & Grill, a location in my stories. With Greywind's permission, two of his characters are making an appearance in a different set of my stories, Joshua's Pawn Shop.

 

Walk Away Joe

 

Cindy high stepped over a puddle that Joe hadn’t thought to go around. The rain had stopped several hours ago, but the cold stayed on like it always did this time of year in San Jose. Even in her heavy coat she shivered as they walked down the sidewalk. Their car was right behind them. Cindy wished they had been able to park closer, but this would have to do. Pawn shops were never crowded but this one was smack between two busy bars.

“No worries, baby,” Joe said to her. “I’ve got everything under control.”

“That’s what you always say,” she muttered.

He stopped suddenly and spun her around to face him. His fingers gripped the sleeves of her coat. “And it always works out just fine. Don’t it?”

Cindy nodded, her bangs flopping in front of her eyes. “Yeah, Joe. Always!” She could tell his smile was forced. His eyes flicked from side to side as he let go of her.

“Just remember that. Come on.” He roughly took her hand, and they resumed their walk to the pawn shop.

With her free hand, Cindy brushed her dark blonde hair back. She liked the bangs, but they were just getting too long. She’d snip them tonight. Her younger sister had an emo hair style, the bangs covering over one eye, and Cindy never wanted to look like her.

Cindy and Joe stood about the same height. She was tall for a woman, and he was short for a man. Cindy looked at him from the corner of her eye. He had the same military-style cut the whole time she had known him. He wasn’t in the military or even going in. He just liked his hair short.

A bell tinkled against the glass as they pushed the door open.

“Be right with you,” said a short man behind the counter. His name tag read “Joshua.”

Cindy’s eyes bulged in surprise. He was several inches shorter than Joe! She hadn’t expected that. She couldn’t help staring. Joshua had dark curly hair, and looked well-built. Muscles rippled from the short sleeves of his blue-striped white shirt. He had a jeweler’s scope attached to his glasses but swung away for the moment. His hair hung down to his chin and a full beard fell past his Adam’s apple.

A woman and a man stood at the counter with him. “Seriously?” the man asked. “You want to just give it to us?” Cindy wondered why they were in the shop. They were dressed too nicely to be from this neighborhood.

Joshua nodded. “It’s not mine to sell.” He turned to the woman. “This is the watch that you lost, isn’t it?”

Ah. Cindy realized they were looking for something specific.

“It certainly looks like it. Where did you find it?” She played with her necklace while she talked. The pendant held a black-star sapphire set in gold. It went well with her strawberry blonde hair.

Joshua placed the watch on the counter. “The finder sold it here yesterday.”

“So we at least owe you that much,” the man said, pulling out his wallet. “What did you pay for it?” He was much taller than Joshua, but Joshua had a bigger presence. The man took off his sunglasses.

Cindy gasped. “Joe! That’s the guy from the society pages! Jason Scott! Oh, is that Marlene with him?”

Joe pulled her back amongst the comic book aisles. “That jumped-up secretary that he signed his daddy’s company over to? Well, we certainly don’t want them to see us then. Act like you’re checking out the books.”

Cindy grimaced but faked interest in the covers. These kind of stories had never appealed to her. She just wanted this night to be over and done. She tried to listen to the conversation at the counter.

“No,” the woman said. “We insist on paying for the watch. Whatever you paid, we’ll add something for your trouble.”

“Oh, it was no trouble at all, miss, but if you insist, I paid the woman who brought it $500.” Joshua slid the watch to them. “It’s high quality, and she needed the cash for her rent money.”

Jason counted out some bills from his wallet. Joshua took them and said, “God bless you and have a nice day.” Jason paused for just a moment at the door, then the couple left, the woman obviously happy to have her watch back.

Joe stepped out from the aisles, reaching into his coat.

“Wait there, young man,” Joshua said. “You’re still not next.” He walked around the counter and went down one of the aisles. He called to the back of the store. “Little brother! I’m going to help Mrs. O’Donnell pick out a new handgun. Can you take the front?”

“Sure thing, big brother,” said a man in a messy apron coming from the back. His name tag read “Jacob.” He wiped his greasy hands on the apron, took it off, and threw it behind some boxes. His pants were clean but very faded at the knee. He looked to Joe and Cindy. “Are you two next? Pardon my hands. I was cleaning some car parts we just got in.”

Jacob was a couple of inches taller than Joshua and built just the same. Even if they hadn’t called each other ‘brother,’ Cindy would have guessed they were. They had the same hair, beard, and eyes.

“We’re just browsing,” Joe said, stepping back amongst the titles.

“Okay. Maybe I can help you, miss?” Jacob smiled. His whole face lit up when he did so.

Cindy started to say no but changed her mind. “I’d like to see your rings and necklaces.”

Joe hissed at her. “Cindy!”

She ignored him and walked to the counter. “What have you got in silver?”

Jacob pulled out a tray from under the glass and placed it on the counter. “This is our silver for sale. We have several more pieces that might become available on Tuesday if nothing suits your fancy.”

“Might?”

“They were left as collateral.” He shrugged. “Terms of the loan are up on Tuesday.”

“Oh, that’s right. That’s how pawn shops work. Silly me.” She looked at the tray. “I like that one with the emerald.”

“Good eye.” He picked it up for her and held it out so she could try it on.

“It’s fits perfectly!” She held it close to her face. “What do you think?”

“It goes very well with your eyes, but there’s one here you might like even better.” He pointed to one on the tray.

“I don’t see anything special about that one.” She frowned.

“Look closely. You’ll see. I got my wife one just like it for her birthday last month.”

Frowning, she leaned over the counter. The ring looked just like any other. The stone was a ruby with an emerald on each side. “Pretty, but…”

Jacob leaned over the counter so his mouth was close to her ear. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he whispered. “There’s still time to call it off.”

Cindy jerked back from the counter and looked over her shoulder towards Joe. Joe was back amongst the comic books and couldn’t see her. “Call off what?” She kept her voice low.

“The robbery. Even though it was Joe’s idea, you’ll be an accessory.”
 

[Greywind]

This is a revision of my last bit.

 

An Offer

 

The Mercedes cut through the night, the beams of its headlights reflected off the wet asphalt and disappeared into the dark. Traffic was light, an occasional car or truck passing by with long periods before another was seen. The radio played jazz at a low volume.

 

The eyes of the driver darted to the clock in the dash. He had an appointment to keep. Considering the man he had agreed to meet, and not being given the choice of venue, he wanted to be early. Little chance of that now. A wrong turn thanks to the GPS unit in the car had set him back at least a half hour before he had managed to correct the error.

 

The GPS unit announced his imminent arrival at the same time that his eyes picked out the sign. “Lo 's & Grill”, it read. The neon U in “Lou's” gave the occasional slow flicker of a dying light. The Bar before the “& Grill” was blackened and dead. Slowing the car, the driver pulled over into an unpaved parking lot. Pickup trucks and motorcycles tended to be the vehicles of choice in this neck of the woods.

 

The Mercedes rolled to a stop and the engine was killed. Glancing out the car's windshield and through a window inside the building, the driver got the impression that Lou's Bar & Grill was maybe a baby-step above a dive. It reflected his memories of the man he was here to meet.

 

Swinging open the car door, the driver glanced down at a rain puddle. He sighed. Lifting himself clear of the water by way of the door and the roof, he stepped over it. He didn't relish the thought of getting back into his car. At least not with dry shoes. Perhaps if he got in from the passenger side he could avoid soaking his shoes. He closed the door and pressed a button on the key fob. The car chirruped twice in response with a flash of the lights.

 

The driver smoothed down the front of his suit coat and tie, buttoning it closed. He caught his reflection in a mirror on a pickup. He was a handsome black man. His hair was cropped short and neat, both on top of his head and his beard. He cast a quick glance at his watch, the only apparent piece of jewelry he wore, squared his shoulders and headed for the door.

 

Once inside, his eyes scanned the patrons; bikers, truckers and rednecks. More men than women in attendance. He was overdressed in his business suit. The bartender was burly, bald and bearded. He picked out two others sitting quietly together that he figured were bouncers. Sitting alone in a booth in the back, drinking beer from a bottle, was his appointment. He made his way back.

 

“Ace,” he said by way of greeting the black man. His hair was mostly black, but tending towards salt and pepper. His face was hard and rough, with a nose that had been broken at least once.

 

“Dalton,” Ace said. “I see your tastes in bars hasn't improved any.”

 

Dalton gestured towards the seat opposite. “Sit.”

 

Giving the bench seat a look of disgust, Ace unbuttoned his suit coat and slid in. Dalton let out a loud whistle to get the bartender's attention. He held up his bottle by the neck with two fingers raised over it. The bartender nodded and pulled two bottles out, passing them to a serving girl.

 

Looking Ace over, Dalton said, “You look like you've moved up in the world.”

 

“You look like you've moved sideways,” Ace said. “The only thing missing are the sergeant's stripes and olive drab.” Dalton snorted. “You asked. I'm here.” He took another look around the bar, “Wherever 'here' is,” he said.

 

The serving girl set the bottles on the end of the table. “Go away,” Dalton said without looking at her. She retreated to the bar. Quirking a smile at Ace, Dalton said, “Somewhere off the radar. That's all that matters.” He pulled a picture out of the breast pocket of his plaid flannel shirt and laid it on the table. He reached for the two bottles, setting one closer to Ace. “To absent...associates,” he said lifting his bottle in a toast.

 

Ace shot Dalton a look that would burn a hole through the other man. He lifted the bottle in front of him and clacked it against Dalton's. “To absent associates,” he said and took a drink. Dalton did the same.

 

“King is gone.”

 

Raising an eyebrow at the statement, Ace said, “I heard rumors. But I also heard about a run in with one of the Guardians not too long ago.”

 

“Ain't him. Guy I work for got his hands on King's gear. Had a little contest of mercenaries to see who got to wear it. Lots of corpses. Last man standing got it.”

 

Ace put his bottle down and slid it to the side. “What happened to King?”

 

“Got a hunting knife in the neck,” Dalton said. Ace looked surprised. “You remember that cross-country hunting trip of Callahan's a few years back?” Ace nodded. It had been quite the news for a time. “Seems they ran into each other. King ended up with his own knife shoved through his neck.”

 

“One to Longbow,” Ace said quietly. “What about the others?”

 

Dalton belched. The sour smell of beer and cigar annoyed Ace. “Queen is still active. If you want to call it that. Doubt you'd recognize her, though. Seems to be more comfortable in skirts and high heels than combat gear now. Still good for tossing stuffed shirts that think too highly of themselves around.”

 

Ace laughed. “Karen was always good at that. Like that officer when we were in working out of Korea.”

 

“Shoulda kept his hands off her,” Dalton nodded in agreement. “He was lucky she only scarred his face and left him both eyes. Scary woman.”

 

“You just didn't know her very well, Jack,” Ace said. “What about Ten?”

 

Jack Dalton shrugged. “Off the grid. Probably found a rock to crawl under.”

 

“So what's this about?”

 

Dalton ran his thumb over the photograph of the five of them before picking it up and stuffing it back into his pocket. “Got a job. A stuffed shirt is looking for some people that are willing to not play nice with some other people. Money is good. Got some nice benefits. You'd get to see Karen again.” Dalton lifted a small computer and set it on the table before sliding it closer to Ace. On top of it, Dalton set a small gift box.

 

“What's this?”

 

Dalton tapped the computer. “Consider this your target acquisition gear. You agree, you open it up and it sends a message to the stuffed shirt. When he wants you to go to work, he'll send you a file with the target and any special instructions. This,” he tapped the gift box, “is a token of your position in the ranks.”

 

“What if I don't agree?”

 

Dalton sighed. “That could be rather messy, depending.”

 

“Depending on what?”

 

“Your ninja hoodoo.”

 

Ace smiled. “I thought you didn't believe in ninja magic.”

 

Shrugging, Dalton said, “It don't impress me any. Not what I've seen you do. Not what I've seen White Tiger do.”

 

“You've seen the Tiger?”

 

Dalton nodded slowly. “Seen him. Faced him. Almost killed him.”

 

“Almost? What stopped you?”

 

“The man I work for.”

 

“This stuffed shirt?” Ace asked.

 

Dalton took another swig of beer. “No. Him, I work with. The man I work for is downright scary. He tells you to do something or not to do something, you listen.”

 

“I find it hard to believe that you almost killed Kaneda.”

 

Dalton shrugged again. “Believe it or don't. Makes no difference to me. You in?”

 

He sat and thought for a long moment. His gaze traveled from the computer to Dalton and back. “Pass,” Ace finally said, sliding the pile back across the table. “I am not interested in selling my freedom. Just my skills.” He pulled his bottle back in front of himself. “Although,” he said, reaching into an inner pocket of his coat, “there is this.” He slid a small plastic bag across the table.

 

Dalton picked up the bag and examining the items within; a detonator and a Jack of Spades card. After a few moments Dalton said, “Copperfield. That was you?” Ace grinned and shrugged. “You cost me two hundred thou on that job.”

 

Ace whistled. “Two hundred thousand to blow her apartment with her in it? Tsk, tsk. Doctor Copperfield was worth five hundred thousand to me alive.”

 

“Five hundred... Who?” Dalton asked, incredulous.

 

“The Warmonger,” Ace said. Dalton dropped the detonator on the table. “He wanted to make use of her skills.”

 

“It seems,” Dalton started to say. “It seems that both of us have been keeping company with some pretty powerful people.” He considered his former associate. “Where you off to now?”

 

“New Orleans.”

 

“For work?”

 

Ace considered before answering. “Yes. I took a contract with a gentleman. It seems someone else with ninja magic is causing him a bit of difficulty.”

 

“Who's your target?”

 

“Grimblade.”

 

Dalton whistled. “Good luck.”

 

Ace tilted his head in acceptance. “Give my regards to Queen,” he said as he rose.

[Greywind]

“Is this seat taken?”

 

Jason looked up from the evening's program to see an elderly man with a shock of gray hair and a goatee and mustache leaning heavily on walking stick.

 

“Not at all,” Jason said affably.

 

The old man sat and made himself comfortable, turning his attention to the model currently on the runway. “So, what brings the scion of Scott Enterprises here tonight?” Jason shot a glance out of the corner of his eye at the gentleman before turning his attention also to the model. “Oh, yes. I know who you are.”

 

“I'm looking for a dress for a friend. Her birthday is coming up. And you are?”

 

The man held out his hand to Jason to shake. “Arthur. Arthur Kayne.”

 

“Any relation to Michael Caine?” Jason joked while taking the man's hand.

 

“A distant cousin, at best, I'm afraid.” Arthur pulled round-lensed spectacles out of his suit coat's pocket, rubbed the lens with a handkerchief before slipping them into place. “Much better. There's a lovely one, don't you think?”

 

The model in question had long blonde hair and a pretty face.

 

“I don't like the cut of the gown,” Jason said, turning his attention to the program once again and making a mark beside the dress' entry therein.

 

“Hmm. I wasn't thinking about the dress, but I suppose you're right. So where is this friend you're looking to get a dress for? Someone you're looking to settle down with?”

 

Being used to offhand comments about his relationship status and people fishing for any information, Jason mostly ignored the question. “Just an old friend.”

 

“Ah. My apologies if it seems I am prying. I don't get out much these days.”

 

“Quite alright,” Jason said.

 

“Now there's a lovely one,” Arthur said. Jason looked up. The model, wearing a black dress with seed pearls and sequins on the bodice, had long chestnut hair. She met Jason's gaze and stumbled, catching her balance before she fell.

 

Jason stood up and watched her finish her walk on the runway. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to him before exiting the stage. “Excuse me,” Jason said to Arthur. He pulled his phone from a pocket and accepted the call. “What?” He listened for a long moment. “Fine. I'm on my way.”

[Greywind]

The model made her way backstage to the dressing area. She shimmied out of the black dress and put it on its hanger. “Who's the guy to the left of the runway, Shannon? About ten seats up?”

 

“That's the sponsors seating area,” Shannon responded. She, like the other girls, was beautiful. She had black hair, slightly frizzled. Her skin was the color mocha. What set her apart was the bright green of her eyes. “Scott something. Let me check.” She looked at something on her dressing table. “Jamerson, Leah. Scott Jamerson.”

 

Leah slipped her shoes off and checked her one heel for damage before setting it aside and taking a royal blue dress off the rack with her name on it. The blonde popped her head up from her own dressing table. “Jamerson's are old money. Too good for you, girlfriend. Me, I'll be hooking him once we're done on the runway.”

 

“Remind me again why no one likes you, Celeste,” Shannon shot at her back as she ran to the stage entrance.

 

“Bitch!” Celeste called back.

 

“Can you get this zipper for me?” Leah asked.

 

Shannon ran the zipper up and tucked the pull. “His name is Jason Scott. Got your sights set?”

 

“I...I don't know,” Leah said, grabbing the shoes for the dress.

 

“Capwell!” a man's voice barked. The models not queuing up for their next appearance on the runway all looked to see what was happening.

 

“Oh, shit,” Shannon whispered.

 

Leah turned to face the stage director, who came up close to her. “What the hell was that?”

 

“I tripped.”

 

“You tripped. Over your own feet. You've been walking that runway for a week rehearsing and tonight you decide to show off your grace by tripping! And then, after that, what did you do? You looked back! Monique! What are the stage directions for this show?”

 

“Don't trip. Look graceful. Don't make eye contact. Don't look back,” a girl's voice called back to him.

 

“You've got three more trips up there, Capwell. I don't want to see a repeat performance! Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Good!”

 

“Asshole,” Shannon whispered when the stage manager was departing.

 

“I heard that, Welles!” he barked.

 

“Don't mind him, Leah. He's just looking for a reason since he hasn't gotten into the pants of any of us, as far as I know.”

 

Leah shrugged. One of the assistants slipped past her and took the black dress off her rack and deftly slipped it into a garment bag. A numbered tag went over the hook. “Hey! George? I was going to wear that to the Meet and Greet after!”

 

Shrugging, George said, “Sorry, Leah. Dress got bought outright. Guy paid twice the reserve without blinking.”

 

“You would smile like that, George. It was your design.”

“Sorry. Pick another for after.”

 

“But I like that dress,” Leah pouted.

 

“Can't help you, Leah,” George told her, carting the dress away.

[Greywind]

Glass clinked against glass. Arkayne slopped brandy over the rim of his glass in an attempt to pour. What was it about the working of subtle magic that left him so fatigued? Calling up more powerful spells, destructive spells, was far easier to him. Unfortunately for him, his plans and goals rarely required their use.

 

“Interfering again?” a woman asked, taking the decanter from the mage. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She poured out a measure of brandy and handed it to Arkayne before wiping up the spillage with the towel she had draped over her shoulders.

 

“Attempting to give the boy a measure of happiness.”

 

“As I said, interfering. Leave off, Old Man.”

 

Arkayne sighed and sank into an armchair. “I can't, Adalene. It isn't time yet for what I have in mind. He needs a distraction to keep him from looking closer to home.”

 

Turning to face Arkayne, Adalene asked, “Why? What did you do?”

 

“Simply provided a spark. I left it to see if it would start a fire,” he said, pulling a pipe out of his jacket pocket.

 

Adalene gave him a look of annoyance, whether at his actions or the pipe, even she was not sure. “No smoking in here. When you're done with your drink, either see yourself to a guest room or see yourself to the door, Old Man.” She turned away and headed for her library.

 

Watching her movements in her short robe, leotard and tights, Arkayne sighed again. “Were I a younger man,” he said wistfully.

[Greywind]

“So, what did he say?”

 

Sitting on the stairs inside his home, Warren tapped the handset to the old phone against his chin. His back was to the wall with one foot braced against a newel post. Slowly lowering the phone to its cradle, Warren looked around himself. The phone was an antique. It had been found in a box in the basement when they had been cleaning the house the first time.

 

The house was part and parcel of his friendship with Jason. Knowing Warren had wanted it, Jason had bought it and given it to Warren as payment for Warren's help. They had cleaned it up and made it livable. They; Warren, Jason, Kris and Ash. They had all played a part and done their share.

 

The granite counter top that Ash had carried in after the cabinets has been replaced. The floors that had been sanded down, boards replaced where necessary. The paint fight that had ensued when the walls and the house itself was being painted.

 

“Well?” Leah prodded.

 

Warren sighed. “He told me to take Kate out on a date. Dinner, dancing, the works.”

 

“Which tells you what?”

 

Warren felt guilty. “He wants me to think about what could happen if he lets me in.” Leah nodded. “You know he's going to do something.”

 

Leah shrugged, “I do. He cannot let that pass.”

 

Shaking his head, Warren said, “It's not like Jason...” But it was like Jason. The Jason that refused to share his plans if he knew someone would object to it. No matter how much something needed doing that they wouldn't agree with. Like dropping a tactical nuclear warhead on Warmonger.

 

“What's not like Jason?” Kate asked coming down the stairs. She stepped over Warren lightly and then sat in his lap, nestling close to her husband.

 

“Nothing,” Warren said with a weak smile, holding Kate close. “I misspoke. Kate, I was thinking, how would you like to go out to dinner?”

 

Kate looked up at Warren. “Rosie's?”

 

“No. I was thinking Crystal Jade. Maybe we could go dancing. At a nightclub or something.”

 

Smiling Kate looked at Leah. Her face sobered and she turned back to Warren. “What's the catch?”

 

Chuckling, Warren said, “No catch. You dress up for a date and I'll take care of the rest.” Leah smiled her support to Kate when she looked back at her best friend.

 

“Dress up?”

 

“You've got that dress that Jason gave you that you haven't worn. I'm sure one of those other boxes are matching shoes.”

 

“Warren,” Kate's voice took on a threatening tone.

 

“Just you and me,” Warren said, pulling Kate closer. “A real date. I haven't seen that dress out of the box, much less on you.”

 

Kate bit her lower lip and thought before nodding. “All right. But just for you. When are you planning on doing this?”

 

“How about tomorrow? You can have the day. You and Leah can get your hair done,” he said quietly. He stood up, holding Kate, and descended the stairs, setting her lightly on her feet at the bottom. He gave her a kiss and turned towards the door.

 

“Warren? Where are you going?” Kate asked.

 

“For a run.”

[Greywind]

“Slimeball in the side pocket!” A crimson beam caught the guy in his tactical vest and slammed him into the wall. He slid to the floor and lay still. “How many more?” Pulsar asked.

 

Machine gun fire answered him, only to abruptly end. “I think that's all of them,” Dove answered. She used the end of her Tharian battle pike to shove a gun away from a fallen thug as she stepped over him. “Someone notify the captain that the trash is ready to be picked up.”

 

Ash knelt down and examined the frayed weave of the tactical vest and the cracked ceramic plate beneath. “Being a little hard on them, aren't you, Pulsar?”

 

Shrugging, Pulsar said, “He's still alive. If he wanted safer employment, he'd be flipping burgers.”

 

“Flipping burgers doesn't pay as well as running guns,” Lightning said. “I found one case of military-grade hardware.”

 

“Good to hear, Lightning,” Captain Franklin Stone said, leading a small squad of armored police. “One case of five. If we can get one of these boys to sing for us, maybe we can find where the others are. How many tangos down?”

 

“Seven,” Lightning said. “Unless you want to count the two hanging from the hoist. They aren't exactly down, but they aren't shooting, either,” he said with a grin.

 

“You four against nine? Little bit of overkill.” He looked to his men. “Round them up. Cuff them. Check to see if any are in need of immediate medical attention. Second squad, make sure there aren't any runners or surprises outside.”

 

Pulsar knelt and examined the weapons crate. “What are you looking for?” Ash asked over his shoulder.

 

“Just making sure,” he said quietly.

 

“So what has gotten into you tonight?” Dove asked. The battle pike in her hand retracted into a cylinder about six inches long. She slipped that into a sheath behind her back that ran along her belt.

 

Standing up, Pulsar shrugged again. “I would rather be somewhere else.”

 

Ash hoisted herself up on a nearby crate to sit. “Did you find,” she glanced around to see where the officers were with their charges. Only Stone was close enough to hear. “A dress for Hellfire?” she finished.

 

Pulsar rubbed the back of his head. Ash knew under his mask he had a sheepish grin. “I, ah, sort of lost track.”

 

“Lost track?” Dove teased. “That isn't like you. What was it that distracted you?”

 

“I almost met a girl.”

 

“Almost? What happened?” the winged woman asked.

 

“I got a call. 'Help us, Pulsar-wan. You're our only hope.'”

 

“I didn't say that,” Lightning complained.

 

“Lightning up, Speedy,” Ash said.

 

“Ooh, bad pun time,” Lightning put his hand to his chest and pretended he was in pain.

 

“Who is the girl?” Ash asked.

 

“And what did you do to try to impress her?” Dove asked.

 

Sighing, Pulsar said, “I don't know. She was one of the models.” He looked at Dove and said, “I bought the dress she was wearing.”

 

“We've got Crime Scene coming in to process the area. We've got a wagon outside for your playmates,” Stone informed them. “There's really no reason for you guys to hang around here.”

 

“Poker Friday, Captain,” Lightning said. Stone nodded in response. “Are you sure you want to take that chance?” he asked of Pulsar.

 

Flying up a few feet, Pulsar said, “If you're out on that wire you might as well dance.” He rolled over and accelerated out through one of the large doors meant for trucks, and out into the night.

 

“I...I...”

 

“What?” Dove asked

 

“I can't believe he threw a quote at me like that, that I can't place. What movie did it come from?”

 

“Try 'Song Lyrics' for one thousand, Alex,” Captain Stone said.

 

“Song lyrics?” Lightning said, dumbfounded. “I can't believe he cheated like that.”

[Greywind]

Anton Darque stepped through a portal of his own making into the cool Nebraska evening. He glanced around in order to get his bearings. Magic had been done near. He could feel it in every fiber of his being. The portal behind him closed with a pop. He started walking unhurriedly down the dirt lane.

 

Before long, Darque saw a sign hanging above a lane that led to a house. The sign read, “Asher, too”. Lightning's home, Darque thought, his lips a grim line. He turned towards the lane.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Darque was surprised by the voice. He had not seen anyone on the lane itself or nearby in any of the fields as he walked, and yet, there, sitting on a hay bale, was a young man with a blade of grass stuck between his teeth.

 

“Who dares address me?” Darque demanded.

 

The younger man looked somewhat amused. “I do, obviously.” Darque took in younger man's appearance, judging him as a possible threat. He wore boots and brown pants with creases down the front. The linen shirt he wore was off-white. The sleeves were rolled up below the elbow.. A workman's shirt, came an unbidden thought. Suspenders held the man's pants in lieu of a belt. The man's hair was cut short and neat. His facial hair was fashioned into a Van Dyke, with the beard bordering on a ducktail.

 

Darque's hands tightened on his walking stick. Sunlight danced off the faceted crystal set in its head. “Who art thou?”

 

“A watcher. For now.”

 

“I have business within,” Darque said, using the end of his cane to point at a large tent set up in a field.

 

The man stood slowly, brushing his hands off on his pants. “Then, I am afraid that I am no longer simply watching.”

 

Darque clenched his teeth, “Who art thou? Why art thee not watching from within?”

 

“I was not invited. You keep slipping into formal speech. I do hope that is not a sign of agitation. As to who I am, I am a successor. A worthy one, I hope.”

 

“Let me pass!”

 

“That I cannot do, as things stand,” the man said quietly.

 

“My daughter is within. I can feel her.”

 

“Aye, Angelique is within. With friends. Feel the enchantments. I do not warrant the familiarity of using your first name, but I will not deign to use your self-proclaimed title. Darque, I am not your enemy, but ye will find me in opposition if ye attempt to pass your mantle within.”

 

“My mantle? You wish me to pass on without my power?”

 

The man let out a heavy breath. “You mistake me, Darque. I do not wish you to pass at all. If you insist on doing so, you must do it without your power. I told you to feel the enchantments laid. The Spellbinder is within. Your daughter is within. If you seek to penetrate the barrier with your mantle, you will face them, along with myself.” The man shrugged his shoulders. One hand was held in a loose fist. The other, with fingers splayed. “And others.”

 

“Who are you?” demanded Darque once again.

 

“My name is my own. You can call me, Arcane.”

 

“Arcane? You are the successor to that old fool?” Arcane's only response was a nod of his head.

[Greywind]

“What have you got?” Ash looked over the video section that Dani was working with.

 

“Trese and I have been going over the video when we've had time. Mentor has a gap in the feed from the loft that he can't account for.”

 

Ash nodded. “I'm aware of that. Any ideas?”

 

Dani shook her head. “Not yet. What I wanted to show you has to do with Brad's report. I don't want to say that he's lying, but it might just be he's misremembering because of how fast everything happened. This feed here we got from Captain Stone. It's not from one of Jason's cameras. It's from a rooftop security feed that happens to face, or did face, Jason's building.” Dani set the video in motion. “Now Brad reported that Jason got caught in the blast wave. We had no reason to doubt considering the condition that Jason was in and the length of the nap he took afterwards.

 

“Now this,” the video showed Pulsar flying in from the right of the screen, “as you can see, Jason flies in, and he's what? Maybe halfway across the street here. Watch.” On the screen Pulsar seemed to have lost control with one hand flying to his head. Then the blast wave caught him, throwing him backwards and off the screen.

 

“Put it up on the wall screen, Dani. Play it again. Same speed,” Ash told the pyrokinetic.

 

They both watched the scene unfold one more time. “So something happened to Jason before the explosion. The question is what,” Dani said, brushing her hair back.

 

“You didn't see it? Roll it back and run it again,” Ash told her. Dani did.

 

“What are you seeing? I've been going over this since Stone got it to us,” Dani said.

 

“Mentor, take over. Roll it back and run it again. Only this time I want you to focus on the skylight of the loft,” Ash ordered.

 

“Yes, Ash,” the AI responded. The image shifted and zoomed, pixelating in the process.

 

Ash growled. “Can you clean that up?”

 

“Not without increasing the resolution first. We're dealing with a copy. A bad copy at that,” Dani told her.

 

“Zoom it out, Mentor, but keep the focus on the skylight.”

 

As the video ran, Dani said, “Son of a bitch,” under her breath. Mere moments, long moments at the speed it was running, there was a flash of light before the blast forced its way through the skylight and knocked their view askew when the camera they had gotten their footage from was re-aimed by the explosion.

 

“Back it up, Mentor. Run it again. Zoom out until Jason is in the picture just before the blast.”

 

Again they watched, noting the timing of events; the flash of light in the skylight, Jason's hand flying to his head, and then the explosion.

 

“Was that purple?” Dani asked.

 

“No. It was violet,” Ash said. “It was the Witch.”

[Greywind]

“I'm sorry.”

 

Looking up from where he was bent over the red felt of a billiards table, Jason said, “For what?” He made a short jab with the stick in his hands and balls clacked together.

 

“You want to play a round?”

 

“Rack 'em.” Almost as soon as Jason said it, the balls were corralled in the rack and Warren was taking a cue stick down. “You can break,” Jason offered.

 

Lining up his shot, Warren said, “I'm sorry that I jumped into the middle of that.”

 

“It doesn't matter.”

 

“Obviously it does.” Warren sent the cue ball slamming into the triangle. When the balls settled he had sunk a solid and a stripe. “I just think that there's a reason that you and I have these...abilities. If he can use our help, why not offer it?” Warren picked the two ball off the table and sank it.

 

“For starters, because I don't like Dan Thomas.” Warren's third shot missed. Jason stepped up to the table and took in the lay of the balls. “Being able to do something doesn't mean I have an inherent responsibility to do it.”

 

“But that's what it's all about. Isn't it? Helping those that can't help themselves?”

 

“What?” Jason said standing back up.

 

“I said, isn't it about helping others? Not expecting anything in return. Just helping. You're helping Beth.”

 

“That's different.”

 

“Is it? Then you're helping her dad. You're not just enabling her to help him. You're taking the first steps to see that he's taken care of.”

 

Jason sighed and bent low over the table again, “That's interrelated. I offered Beth a job. She accepted with conditions. I agreed to her conditions. It's as simple as that.”

 

Looking around the room, Warren noticed a photograph of Jason in a football uniform. He walked to it to get a closer look. One photograph of Jason kneeling, hand on top of his helmet. The helmet was turned to show the school logo. “You played football?”

 

Glancing at Warren, Jason said, “As a freshman.” The cue sent a striped ball into a pocket.

 

“What position?”

 

“Running back.”

 

“I was a receiver. Our team did pretty well in division. How about yours?”

 

Balls clacked without any sinking. “Your shot. I played as a freshman. I quit mid-season.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Playing flute in the band was less painful.” Warren gave him a not-amused look. “The last game I played in, I made several of the other team's defense look...stupid. They took exception. I got crunched. Ride to the hospital in an ambulance and a doctor put me on the injured list for the rest of the season. Simple as that.”

 

“Oh,” Warren said, taking his shot.

 

“Was there a reason for the change in subject?”

 

Shrugging, Warren said, “Just trying to get to know you better. What do you want?” Warren sank another ball.

 

“Want?”

 

“Out of life.”

 

“A wife, a white picket fence, two point four children, one-and-a-half cars in the garage, and a dog,” Jason said dryly.

 

“That sounds rehearsed,” Warren said, sinking another ball and moving around the table.

 

“I want what everyone else wants.”

 

“That doesn't sound bad. Welcome to your world?”

 

Jason sighed. “Says the guy that just wants to be a farmer.”

 

“There's nothing wrong with being a farmer,” Warren said testily.

 

“I didn't say that there was. I'm just pointing out that, really there isn't a lot of difference between what you want and what I want.”

[Greywind]

The lighting in the corridor was dimmed for the evening. Normally the lighting would adjust when someone was present, courtesy of Mentor. Normally, but it was always dark in Sharon's world. Ever since the explosion that rendered her blind.

 

Stopping outside of Jason's door she caught a whiff of pine wood. Not uncommon if Jason had recently stretched a bit of canvas. That was one thing, among thousands, that Sharon missed about not being able to see. Even as a young teen, Jason had the raw talent with drawing and painting. She could only dream what his refined talent could turn out now. She smiled sadly to herself.

 

“Let me in, Mentor,” she said. The door opened quietly and she stepped inside. Heat and humidity came at her from the bathroom door. The scent of soap lingered, overlaying the smell of Jason's sweat. Sharon could only assume he had worked out, showered and changed.

 

There was also a stronger smell of pine and machine oil. Her senses reached out. Jason's easel was folded and leaning against a wall. There was a crate standing near where he preferred to exercise his hobby.

 

"Witches,” she heard Jason say quietly. “Witches. Are warlocks male witches? Or are male witches just witches?” This was followed by a sigh. “Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.”

 

She had the impression of Jason standing by a window. In her mind's eye Jason's reflection was garbed for battle. His forehead leaning on a balled fist pressed against the glass. In his free hand Jason held a paintbrush. The bristles moved across the glass. Had there been paint on it, Sharon had no doubt a face would be on the window. “You asked,” Sharon said. “I'm here. How was your trip? Did you find what you were looking for?”

 

“No,” he answered quietly. “He found me. Hello, Sharon.”

 

“He? And what's this about witches?”

 

Jason kept staring out the window. “He called himself Phil Actery.”

 

“That's a strange...Phil Actery? Phylactery?” Sharon smiled to herself. “Intending as a charm or safeguard against harm. Where did you find him?”

 

“Like I said,” Jason quietly said with a shrug of his shoulders, “he found me. Met him outside of Québec City.” Tossing the paintbrush like a dart into a cup with many others, Jason turned to Sharon. “Are you hungry? Would you like something to drink?”

 

“I had dinner with some friends. What do you have to drink?” she asked, sitting down on the couch.

 

Making his way to a small cabinet, Jason opened it. “Coffee, various flavors. Hot tea, again various flavors.” Sharon heard another cabinet door open. “Wine,” Jason said quietly. “There's wine. White, red, rosette. Looks like Marlene was collecting bottles.”

 

Hearing the tone in his voice gave Sharon pause. “Jason, are you okay?”

 

“I'll survive, Sharon. That's was I'm best at. A HERO slayer couldn't kill me. The Blood Guard couldn't kill me. The Tharian Elite Guard couldn't kill me. Their pet gladiators failed. I survive. It seems like the only damned thing I do is survive.

 

“So, wine?”

[Greywind]

“You know Actery?” Sharon heard the cap on the bottle release and the sound it made pouring into a glass.

 

“I knew someone that had a similar sense of humor. The man I knew went by Sofer. Phil O. Sofer.”

 

Her image of Jason nodded his head in thought. “Philosopher,” he said quietly.

 

The bottle was set on the counter and she sensed Jason approach. The bouquet of the wine reached her first. Sharon smiled. “The red.” The subtle scent of Egyptian musk oil and sandalwood blended caught Sharon's attention. A scent that reminded her of Marlene. Probably some residue left on the bottle from when Marlene last handled it.

 

“Someday, you'll have to explain that trick to me,” Jason said, trying to maintain the false sense of humor overlaying his anger. He settled on the other end of the couch.

 

Sharon smiled. “No trick. Heightened senses and the experience of a long life.” She lifted the glass to her nose and inhaled. “In response to your question, it depends on context. Originally warlocks were oath breakers. Then there is some belief or thought that they were spellcasters. Usually in league with the devil and dark forces. As time progressed, you get the male witch aspect. So it all depends on the context in which is was intended.”

 

“That's pretty much what Actery said,” Jason said quietly. “How did you know him?”

 

“Hmm...Nineteen fifty-six, I think it was. Atlanta? No,” she corrected herself. “Tampa. He was a private dick at the time.” She smiled at her usage of the old term for a private investigator. “What is he doing in Canada?”

 

“Fewer people around where he lives. Less danger. Less temptation and Phil said that his demon prefers the cold. I got the feeling that he only ventured into the city because need called to him.”

 

“Your need?”

 

His head was tilted back against the couch. “So, do you have any plans for Christmas?” he asked, ignoring her question.

 

“I've been invited to spend time with Daniel and his family. Irish invited me to spend time with them.” Sharon braced her elbow on the armrest and rested her head against her splayed fingers. “You were missed at Thanksgiving.”

 

“I didn't feel like I had a lot to be thankful for,” Jason said quietly.

 

“Your friends would have liked to see you,” Sharon said just as quietly. “Want to talk about the witches? What brought that on?”

 

“I had questions. The answers led to other questions. Invariably they led me where Actery could find me.”

 

Resting her wine glass on her knee, Sharon asked Jason, “How did you find out about him? If you have questions about magic and whatnot, why not ask the Spellbinder? Or Angelique?”

 

“Angel isn't around to ask.” There was a tone of finality in his voice.

 

“What do you mean she isn't around? I thought you and her were on good terms.”

 

Jason sighed. “We were on very good terms.”

 

Sharon cocked her head to the side and turned to face Jason. “I don't understand. What happened that you aren't on good terms?”

 

“Nothing. Angel and Marlene were building a friendship between them. Angel was in the loft with Marlene. As to how I found out about him, Mentor has a lot of things stored away. Like dad's notes. I ask Mentor to find out what he can and he scans the web, his own storage and finds me something that might have bearing.” A ping from the counter where Jason had poured the wine sounded and he stood up.

 

“So, old-fashioned detective work with a modern day angle. Sometimes I miss the old, pre-information age way of doing things,” Sharon said wistfully.

 

“Beating a guy in a back alley with a roll of dimes in your hand?”

 

Sharon laughed. “I never needed the roll of dimes!” She took a drink, giving herself a moment to think. “What did you find out that has you questioning witches?”

 

“A witch in time saved one. A witch in time can save two. A witch out of time can save no one.”

 

“Riddles. A demon's riddle?” She sensed Jason nod his head. “Words requiring context or they have multiple possible meanings.”

 

“So you see my quandary.” The aroma of coffee preceded Jason's return to the couch.

 

“Want to give me your thoughts on things?” Sharon asked.

 

“Something...something doesn't feel right. Inside my head. I can't really explain it,” Jason's voice was low.

 

“Try,” Sharon prodded. Jason was quiet for a long moment. She hated not being able to see his face, to get some clue from his expression.

 

Finally, he spoke. “How do you see? Are the lights on or off?”

 

“You've got one light on, set low.”

 

“And you know that how? You get around a lot better than most sighted people, Sharon. How? How do you know that there's only one light lit? How do you not crack your shin on the table? How did you manage to sit on the couch and not on the floor?” There was no tension in his voice. No frustration. Just the curiosity of the questions.

 

“I can't explain that. That is also something that requires context to understand,” she replied.

 

“The links to everyone still exist, but Marlene...and Angel, they feel...I can't say wrong, but they're gone,” he explained.

 

“What do you mean 'gone'?”

 

“I mean that it feels as if the connections were severed. More like ripped out to be left bleeding and raw. I can tell you where everyone I'm connected to is, direction and rough distance. If I concentrate or if something happens to one of them that causes some type of spike, emotional or physical, I know about it when it happens. Sometimes it can be a distraction. Other times, depending, it causes me to go looking.

 

“From the connections to Angel and Marlene...there is simply nothing.”

 

Sharon sat quiet. Jason's words tumbled through her head trying to find where each piece in the puzzle fit. She slipped her shoes off and drew her legs up on the couch. “Where is everyone?”

 

“Wolfgang's,” Jason answered. “Everyone except Warstar. Not sure, but I think they've got Spellbinder with them.”

 

“A late dinner,” Sharon said quietly with some amusement.

 

She had a sense of Jason giving a small smile. “Yeah. I figure Dani is trying to use up my account in one sitting. You should see how she eats.”

 

Sharon felt a twinge of regret. She knew there was no malice in Jason's choice of words, and yet it still stung. Too much like her own thoughts heading in here tonight. “She's fire, Jason. Fire consumes.” Taking a small sip, Sharon used the pause to push the feeling away. She didn't want to pitied by anyone. What was, was. The last person she wanted pity from was herself. She had long years to come to terms with her condition. Her abilities, as Jason had pointed out, more than compensated for the loss.

 

“What are your plans for Christmas?” she asked.

 

Movement cause her senses to shift. Jason hung his head for a moment. “Did the whole 'thanks for another year' at the offices here. Catch a flight at 3 AM and head out to California to do it again in a couple of days at the office there. What are you going to do?”

 

Eyes narrowing and lips pursing, Sharon realized Jason hadn't answered her at all. “Like I said, I've been invited places. Honestly, I was thinking of taking a trip somewhere. Hawaii, maybe the Bahamas.” Her fingers rubbed her temple. “So why did you ask me here tonight? What do you really want to talk about?”

 

Silence was her answer for a long moment. “How about Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness?”

 

Nodding, Sharon said, “We haven't had any kind of philosophy debate in a long while. Why that topic?”

 

“Why do we pursue happiness?'

 

Cocking her head as if you look at him, she said, “Not to make light, but do you like feeling miserable?”

 

Jason sighed. “No, I don't. And yet it seems like every moment of happiness is paid for with pain and misery far outlasting the happiness.” Sensing Jason lifting his cup and hearing him take a drink gave Sharon a further moment to reflect. “I've been engaged twice. Do you realize that? And both times something...ugly happened to the woman.”

 

“Sandy and...Leah?”

 

Sharon sensed a slight shake of Jason's head. “I was going to propose to Leah the night we had planned to go out to dinner. I bought her outfit for that evening. I had George Sanza make a dress from a sketch I had done.” She sensed Jason lift his hand a small pressure wave buffeted her. “Still have the ring I was going to give her,” Jason said, followed by something dropping on the cushion between them. Sharon's hand went to the ring box on the couch. “But then she left town unexpectedly.”

 

Opening the box, Sharon's finger moved over the ring. “It's beautiful. Nice size stone. Secure setting.” She closed the box and set it back on the cushion.

 

“Considering our lifestyles, I figured secure was better than a stone that sticks out a half-inch from the ring and not one so big that she needed a crane to lift her hand to show it off.” Sharon felt the pain and sadness behind Jason's attempt at humor.

 

“When did you and Marlene...?”

 

“Reaffirmation Day. After we went back to the loft,” he answered quietly.

 

“And you never announced it.”

 

“We wanted to tell her parents first; ask her dad's permission and all that. Never got a chance to. Too much happened too fast.” She sensed Jason's head dropping again. “And then she was gone,” he added quietly.

 

“I think I was the only one that really realized that it hurt you every time she went out with someone,” Sharon admitted.

 

“It did,” he agreed quietly. “But I wanted her to be safe.”

 

“She didn't want to be safe, Jason. She wanted to be with you.”

 

“And we see where that got her.”

 

In Sharon's long life she knew full well the feeling of loss that came from being what she was. Jason was a lot younger, but the losses he had suffered had come fast and relatively close together. Her own losses, losing Dani's father, then her sight, finding and then losing Shane often came back to her in her quiet moments or in her dreams.

 

“Dani asked me for Shane's bike. She wants to give it to Charley.”

 

Jason lifted his head. “Shane was big. Heavy. It's a nice thought, but for Charley, that would be akin to riding a minibike.”

 

“Charley isn't that much taller than Shane was,” she jibed back.

 

“'Let's think about that one',” Jason said as if he were quoting someone. “'The woman is eight feet tall.'”

 

Sharon gave a quiet laugh. “Who said that?”

 

“One of the dog soldiers when I was hunting for Artie.”

[TheQuestionMan]

Need a list of who is who again.

 

Thanks for posting again.m

 

QM

[Greywind]

The people they are discussing:

 

Phil - the character's codename is Chillpoint. He was a private detective that was looking for a missing girl. Found her as she was about to be sacrificed in a ritual. Ended up being possessed by an ice demon.

 

Shane - character's codename was Powerhouse. The character was created by a friend and used in my game world for several years through the 80's. Ended up being married to Sharon.

 

Charley is Titania.

[Greywind]

“When I went after Artie and things went sideways everyone felt it that I'm connected to. Yourself included. It caused problems for Kate and Aaron. Which in turn led to problems between me and Warren.” Sharon sensed Jason lean forward, forearms across his knees. “And he was right. Some of the things that I can do I don't know enough about. Which leads to questions about whether or not I should try to do something or not.

 

“It's a hell of a lot easier in combat. The choices and decisions are a lot more clear cut in a moment than the decisions that stretch out over a long period of time.” The sound of porcelain on wood came to her as Jason pushed his cup across the table. “With everything that has happened, all the repercussions of the links that I have with everyone, I am debating on finding a way to sever them.” Sharon fought the urge to ask him if he was serious. She could tell that he was by the way he had said it.

[Greywind]

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

 

“There were times when the house would smell like baking bread. My daddy used to say that mom was in the kitchen baking or that she was watching over us.”

 

Marlene leaned her shoulder and head against the archway. Her arms were crossed and her hands were up near her shoulders. “Right now there is a beautiful young woman sitting in that window, playing that guitar. One foot is up on the bench with her knee raised and her other foot is on the floor. She has a pencil in her mouth and a notebook in front of her.”

 

Looking to the bay window with a black guitar decorated with little purple flowers, Beth asked, “Your friend?” Marlene nodded in answer. “You're talking about memories.”

 

Giving Beth a quick, weak smile, Marlene said, “Yeah. The first time Jason and Sandy brought me up here was Spring Break during our senior year. Broke up with a guy I never should have been dating.”

 

Beth thought back to her last boyfriend. “I know how that feels,” she said quietly.

 

“Anyway, Sandy would play her guitar and I would sing with her.”

 

“What about Jason?”

 

Marlene gave Beth a real smile. “Jason can't sing. He would sit, sketch or paint while we did whatever.”

 

Setting her load of files and papers on the table, Beth said, “Jason seems...I don't know. Quiet? Warren plays sports. Basketball, football, what have you. Jason sits. He reads. He does art stuff. He cooks.”

 

“Jason is an introvert, Beth. Handles larges groups as needed and withdraws as fast as he can,” Marlene said moving towards the table.

 

“What's with him cooking? I mean, he's a good cook and all, but...”

 

“I enjoy it, for one thing,” Jason answered from the archway. “Memories of my mom doing in the kitchen.” His eyes darted to the stack of papers on the table and he moved closer.

 

Turning to Jason and stepping in front of him, Marlene rose up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “That was a lovely reunion. Thank you for letting me be part of it.”

 

Jason gave her an honest smile. “Yes it was. Thanks for bringing her sister here.” His tone took a more serious turn. “Let's get to work.”

[Greywind]

Marlene stepped into Jason's field of view and laid her hand on his arm. Sunlight caused her green eyes to shine and her hair to glow. She shook her head and gave him a supportive smile. “Not today,” she said, stepping up to him, slipping her arms around him and laying her cheek against his chest.

 

Jason's gaze went to the horizon. He let out a heavy breath, closed his eyes and brought his own arms up to encircle Marlene. His heart was hammering and he tried willing the tension he felt to ease. He sensed the other man stepping past him, unimpeded.

 

“Anton.”

 

The other man stopped and turned. “Yes, Jason?”

 

“I have seen the world where I became what you wanted me to be.”

 

“And?”

 

Jason turned to Anton with his eyes flashing red with power. “You didn't survive the experience. Something you might want to think about.”

[Greywind]

Collapsing her umbrella, Marlene propped it up in the corner. She slipped her shoes off and hung her jacket from a peg. She went into the living room of her parents' house to find her father watching a baseball game.

 

“Hi, Dad,” she said, kissing him on the forehead and dropping the newspaper in his lap.

 

“How's my girl?” He looked up at her. “What's with your makeup? Have you been crying?”

 

Marlene smiled. “It's raining out.”

 

“Don't give me that. You had your umbrella. I saw you coming up the walk. Did one of those boys make you cry again?”

 

“At my age they're men.”

 

“I don't care what your age is, young lady. If they're making you cry they're boys.”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” she said bending over to give him a hug. “Where's mom?”

[Greywind]

“Whiskey. Neat.” After a moment's pause he added, “Make it a double.”

 

The bartender passed a filled glass and napkin across. Reaching for it he noticed the shaking of his own hand. “Nerves,” he muttered, making a fist and willing himself to calm.

 

“Are you a friend of the bride or the groom?”

 

“Neither actually. Haven't met either one.” He lifted the glass and took a drink.

 

“Stephen, what are you doing here!?”

 

“Getting a drink, obviously. And making sure I haven't messed my pants.” Turning to the woman and seeing how she was dressed, he said, “Adalene Masters, you look positively feminine.”

 

“After all these years knowing me and now you realize I'm a woman?” Stephen shrugged. “Why are you here?”

 

“I am here because I was asked to keep an eye on things.”

 

“Asked by who?”

 

Stephen set his empty glass on the bar. “Can't tell you. Don't give me that look, Spellbinder. You know how things work. I was asked to keep an eye on things in the event that something untoward happened.”

 

Adalene crossed her arms. “So why are you in here instead of out keeping an eye on things?” she asked with a raised brow.

 

“Because something untoward came walking up the lane!” he said in a harsh manner.

[Greywind]

“Go away.”

 

“I recall saying that to someone. A lot. And she didn't go away.”

 

“I gave you your space when you needed it.”

 

“Is that what this is? You needing your space? Because if it is, I can always go back to California. And I will take Mr. Fluffy with me.”

 

Dani shot an annoyed glance at Trese and tried not to smile. “Mr. Fluffy is mine.”

 

“Maybe, but he looks better on my bed.” Trese slipped her arms around Dani's waist and rested her chin on the blonde's shoulder. She couldn't miss the tension or the trembling. Dani pulled the blanket that was hanging around her shoulders like a shawl, a little closer. “Want to talk about it?”

 

“I could have burned you.”

 

“You didn't.”

 

“But I could have.”

 

“You didn't. You wouldn't, Dani. I know you.” Dani leaned her head against Trese's.

[Greywind]

“Why are you here?”

 

The voice of a young woman, bright and well-suited to laughter came from behind Anton. Raising himself up to his full height, he turned to the woman. She was small in his eyes, being maybe five foot even. She held a tray covered with various foodstuffs. “I am Lord Anton...”

 

“I know who you are, sir. I asked why are you here?”

 

The impertinence of the woman, cutting him off! “If you know who I am, then you have the advantage of me. Leaving me no reason to give you my reasons.”

 

The woman's eyes narrowed. “I am Katherine Elaine Crimmons-Asher. Wife. Mother. And owner, sir, of the land you are trespassing on. I ask you again, why are you here?”