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Greywind

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“What's the situation?” Ash demanded.

 

“Pulsar, Nightwing and Warstar are already en-route,” Psistorm answered. She had one hand pressed to the headphone covering one ear.

 

Moving to stand next to Psistorm, Ash asked, “Do we have a clear idea of who it is?”

 

Without taking her eyes off the monitor, Psistorm said, “Preliminary report says it's Bloodbath.”

 

“Damn. ETA?”

 

“Pulsar and Nightwing imminent. Warstar is a couple minutes behind,” Hellfire responded. “I'm heading out.”

 

“We'll be right behind you. Psistorm?”

 

“Staying on monitor.”

 

“All right. Charley, you know how to ride?”

 

“Bike? Yes,” Titania answered.

 

“Close enough,” Ash answered. “No wheels, though.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” Jenny asked. She was dressed in her outfit. Her mask held in her hand.

 

Ash looked her in the eye. “Stay here.”

 

“I want to help!”

 

Ash's eyes narrowed. “Stay. Here!” Jenny started to say something and Ash cut her off. “Mentor, load up a training exercise. Bloodbath. Make the venue similar to the current situation. Ringer, you run that program.”

 

“But...”

 

“I'll see you when I get back.” Ash strode past Jenny and headed to the elevator. Charley was close behind.

 

“Kind of hard on her.”

 

“She'll get over it. I can't apologize to a corpse.” Ash pressed a button and the car started moving up.

 

“Thought we'd be heading to the garage.”

 

Ash didn't spare Charley a look. “I did say 'no wheels'.”

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  • 2 months later...

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Kris. I, ah, had an imp get loose in my supply cabinet.”

 

“Does that often happen?”

 

“Thankfully, no,” Adalene responded. “This was a case of an uninvited guest.” Pulling her braided long hair over her shoulder, she made herself comfortable behind her desk. “So, what can I help you with?”

 

“I am interested in the long-term effects of applied magic. Particularly in the area of mind control or emotion control.”

 

Adalene thought for a moment. “That's a rather broad subject. It is generally known as Compulsion. What is your interest?” Adalene asked.

 

“I had dinner with an old friend the other night and some of his reactions, his mannerisms, made me wonder if maybe he had been subject to something similar.”

 

“I see.” Reaching across her desk, Adalene picked up a small crystal orb from its stand. It fit comfortably in her hand. Unconsciously, she began to roll it across her palm with her thumb. “At its extreme effects, you have Domination. The adept, the caster, doesn't care what harm they may be doing to their victim. The victim will do as they are told for as long as the spell lasts.”

 

Nodding in understanding, Kris said, “Which can be how long?”

 

Shrugging, Adalene said, “It varies depending on the adepts wishes. It could be a moment, say long enough for the victim to do one simple task defined by any parameters the adept set up. If the adept were interested in getting money, they dominate a teller with the parameter of 'I give you a piece of paper and in exchange, you give me all the twenties out of your cash drawer'. Then, the next day, week, what have you, the adept visits the bank when the teller is working, hands her a blank deposit slip, and she cleans the twenties out of her drawer and hands it to him with a smile. And most likely completely forgets about the adept at that point.

 

“Or it can be permanent. Lasting until the victim dies.

 

“Would you like something to drink? Tea, perhaps?”

 

“No, thank you. I'm fine,” Kris replied with a smile. “So, you have a dominator who uses their victim for whatever purpose. What about if it isn't that extreme? What if, say, a love potion. Can it be that a person is programmed in some manner to love one specific person? Or to avoid one specific person?”

 

Shifting the orb, Adalene began rolling it between the palms of her hands. “An adept who has experience will generally nudge their victim in the direction they wish. If they that person to see, fall in love with a specific person, then it is usually a two-part spell. To use a situation in which you have some knowledge when Arkayne cast his spell on Jason, he also cast a similar spell on Leah.”

 

“Which is about what Arkayne admitted to before he passed. See, this the part where I'm curious since you brought up Jason. When Jason was with Leah, everything was great. They got along. They made each other happy. But before they actually met, Jason seemed to be fixated on her. He would do sketches of her almost constantly. Almost like he was obsessed with her.”

 

Adalene frowned. “That wouldn't be uncommon. After all, people that fall in love naturally have a kind of obsession with the other person. You have a couple starting to date, and they call in sick to work so that they can spend a day together. Every passing thought tends to be of the other person.”

 

“And afterward, Jason went into depression. Which, when a relationship ends, isn't uncommon either. What about the part of avoiding another person?”

 

“Generally, not that much harder to do. If the person to be avoided naturally has contact with the victim, then it requires a delicate touch. A balance of keeping the victim acting naturally towards that person and not going so far as treating them like a pariah. On top of that, then there may be secondary influences to consider. Friends, associates, etc. that might normally want to see those individuals closer might be targeted by the adept to run interference to help keep them apart.”

 

Kris frowned.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Rolling over on her back, Leah stretched and opened her eyes. The light coming in through the skylight told her that it was early morning. Sitting up abruptly, Leah looked around and spotted her clothes. Her jeans were draped across a chair, along with her socks and bra. Her boots were beside the chair. The tank top and blouse she had worn over it were on a hanger. That was hanging from a hook on the wall next to the stairs down.

 

Flopping back on the bed, Leah wondered, What did I do? With a smile, she recalled the previous evening; coffee, conversation, dinner. In time with the thought, her belly rumbled.

 

The sizzling sound of meat hitting hot metal came from down the stairs followed by the aroma of fresh coffee. Her mouth started watering. Stop it. I'm not that easy.

 

Leah tossed the covers back and swung her feet to the floor. Catching her reflection in a mirror, she had on some type of red sports jersey. Standing up, the bottom of it fell to mid-thigh. She turned and saw the Klingon trefoil on her shoulder. Turning further, Leah made out the name on her upper back; Parks.

 

Her stomach growled. Leah sighed and started down the stairs.

 

Good morning.”

 

Leah tried to smile. “Bathroom?”

 

Jason smiled back. “Through there,” he pointed. “Pancakes or waffles?”

 

Waffles?”

 

Okay,” Jason responded, taking it as a statement, rather than a question.

 

Making her way into the bathroom, Leah closed the door. Get a grip, girl. I need to get home. Her belly protested. Alright. After breakfast since he's cooking.

 

Finishing her business, Leah washed her hands and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Gawd, I need a hairbrush. Her eyes went to the large bathtub. And a bath. Traveling around the room, she saw the shower stall with multiple heads. Or a shower. Geez. I bet all that water pounding would feel great.

 

Making her way back, Leah was in time to see Jason set a plate on the service bar. “Syrup? Belgian?”

 

Syrup is fine.” Leah slipped onto the stool and looked at the waffles. “I... You didn't take advantage of me last night?”

 

Turning to face her with his head cocked to the side, Jason said seriously, “I wanted to. All night long. I wanted to take advantage of the fact you were there keeping my bed warm. But if you're wondering if I did anything to you, all I did was get you out of your clothes, into that jersey, and into the bed. Shortly after you fell asleep I got an emergency call and I had to go out. I only got back a little while ago.” He set a syrup rack within Leah's easy reach. “Your virtue is safe,” he said, smiling gently.

 

Leah smiled back. “I just don't want you to think...”

 

If and when anything happens between us it will be because you are willing and want it to happen. I'm not in a hurry, Leah.” Leah felt relief. “Are you free Friday?”

 

I am never free,” she said. “Although my rates are often reasonable.” Looking at her, Jason saw she was grinning. “Modeling humor.”

 

Oh, so any time I want to take you out I have to pay your modeling fee?”

 

Leah pouted. “I didn't say that!”

 

I have a reception that I need to be at Friday and I need a woman to escort. I was hoping that maybe you would be interested in accompanying me.”

 

What kind of reception?”

 

Black tie event.”

 

Leah looked down at her plate. “I don't have anything to wear.”

 

I think I might have something that will fit you.” He pointed at a garment bag hanging on a support post.

 

Leah looked questioningly at Jason and then the bag. She wiped her fingers off on a napkin and stood up. She recognized the garment bag from the fashion show. Leah looked at Jason over her shoulder. Her fingers found the zipper on the bag and started pulling it down.

 

My dress,” she whispered. Her eyes caught the receipt inside the dress, hung from the hanger. The original copy, which would be kept with the dress for delivery, was there. It was torn, missing about the bottom third.

 

Underneath it was the buyer's copy, whole. In a firm hand, ensuring legibility on the copy, it read, “Please have her wear this for the Meet and Greet.”

 

Celeste. That bitch,” she whispered.

 

I trust that we won't need to have the dress fitted?”

 

No. I don't think that will be necessary,” Leah said quietly. She turned to find Jason standing close.

 

I was thinking dinner Thursday. We can go shopping. Find you shoes to go with it. Lingerie. Whatever else may be required. So, will you wear my dress for me?”

 

Yes! No! Wait, I can't!” Jason looked at her puzzled. “Roommate. More like a sister. Thursdays are our night. Between work and classes, it's about the only time we have together.”

 

Sisters I can deal with. Invite her along.”

 

Are you sure?”

 

Jason nodded. “You've got a bit of juice running down your chin.” Leah's hand went up and Jason caught it. “I'll get it.” He lifted Leah's chin gently and began kissing her.

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“Hey, Teke. Brought you some munchies.” Hellfire set a veggie tray within PsiStorm's easy reach.

 

“Oh, thanks,” PsiStorm replied with a smile. “How was the audition?”

 

“It was great,” Hellfire answered noncommittally. “In fact, I have a really good feeling about it.”

 

PsiStorm frowned. “It doesn't sound like it.”

 

“Oh, no. Seriously,” Hellfire said slipping into a waiting chair. “I have a really good feeling that I'm not going to be called back. Remember that show last year? I missed a weekend without calling because of that Zodiac business?”

 

“Yeah...”

 

“Same director. Gave me the stink-eye from the time I walked into the theater.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

“Yeah. Bad reputation. That's me.” Hellfire glanced at the screen. “What are you up to?”

 

“History lessons. Going through the files. Getting a read on the bad guys.”

 

“Fun stuff,” Hellfire said.

 

“Are these for real?” PsiStorm asked. “Here. Let me see.” Her fingers moved over the controls. “This one. White Wolf. File says he is a bona fide werewolf.”

 

Hellfire reached across and pushed a button and the file was closed. “Was.”

 

“Something wrong?”

 

Trying to smile, Hellfire said, “Bad memories.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Hellfire pulled back, letting her hand grip PsiStorm's. “Not your fault.”

 

“Want to tell me about it?”

 

Hellfire sighed. “I was fifteen. I didn't realize it at the time, but I'd picked up a stalker. Guy's name was Charles Lang. He was some executive from Chicago.”

 

“You keep saying 'was'. There's nothing in his file to suggest anything happened to him,” PsiStorm said.

 

“Shane happened to him,” Hellfire said.

 

“Your stepdad?”

 

“Yeah. Shane was a firm believer in the legal system. At least until the legal system proved to be useless. After a couple of close run-ins with Lang, Shane started hunting him. Found man-wolf there,” nodding her chin towards the monitor, “in a park. They fought. Shane won.”

 

“But, a werewolf. Silver bullet in the heart?”

 

“Silver, yes. Shane had a garrote made out of omnium. Silvered it. During the fight, Lang lost his head.”

 

“Sounds nasty,” PsiStorm said.

 

Hellfire smiled. “When you've got someone in the same strength class as T using an unbreakable wire, something is going to come off.”

 

“So what happened?”

 

“Remember that satellite Charles used to have? Genesis Force used it as a headquarters before they got shut down and Charles had it re-purposed for pure research. Shane dropped the body into the reactor. Had Lang's head encased in a durable plastic. Said he took a walk outside the observation dome and tried his strength against the solar system's gravity well.”

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Confrontation

 

Ebony lightning arced across a crimson sky. There was no sound of thunder to accompany it. Pulsar looked across the arena. The floor reminded him of a circular chessboard. It was quartered from the center. Standing opposite was a trilithon. At the points to either side were tall menhir. He cast a glance over his shoulder. Behind him was another trilithon that he had stepped through when he had walked through the door of the warehouse, leaving White Tiger to deal with Black Jack.

 

Above the standing stones was an obsidian throne. On that throne sat Anton Darque.

 

Pulsar didn't bother to see if there was a matching white one behind him. Everything was balanced. It only stood to reason that there was a seat high above him. His attention was fully on the distant figure that stepped through the trilithon.

 

Stephen Bauer, Art Rocco, Napalm... All the names went through his mind, along with the hate. He thought about the bystanders Bauer had used to get him here. All the people in his life that he was beholden to that had been hurt or killed in Bauer's sick game. Jessica shot with an arrow as Bauer's opening move. The employees of his company; scientists, administrators, and secretaries, targeted simply because they worked for him. Angelique, killed in the blast that had destroyed his home, trying to save Marlene. She had failed. There hadn't been anything left of either to bury.

 

Each being a stepping stone on the path that had led Pulsar to this point. His hands itched with pent-up power. The power he restrained, rather than blast Bauer across the arena. He had been told that there would be ritual. Rituals had power and this place reeked of it. Pulsar was only here because he had been told, promised, that Bauer would be here, in this place, at this time.

 

An ye come here with a grievance?” a voice spoke none too loud. As if the speaker was standing right next to Pulsar. He did not recognize the voice.

 

I do!” Bauer called out.

 

An ye wish to make a challenge?”

 

I do! I challenge Jason Scott to duel to the death!” Bauer exclaimed, taking steps closer to the center. Pulsar felt the pull and took several steps himself.

 

An ye, do ye wish to answer the challenge?”

 

Pulsar opened his mouth to speak. Pieces tumbled into places in his mind. Someone wanted him here. Someone wanted him hate-blinded so that all he focused on was Bauer. Speak nothing save in answer, he had been told.

 

Jessica had been shot by Silverthorn on Bauer's orders. The research lab blown up by a bomb placed by Black Jack on Bauer's orders. Kris shot by Cheapshot, who had been looking for Trese. Lord Darque is allowing this game, Stinger had told him months ago. His mind shifted to a journey to the future and the warnings he had received there.

 

Danger. An obvious trap. Pulsar balked. Bauer seemed to be pulled back, closer to where he had entered the arena.

 

Blue lighting arced down and struck the center of the arena. When the light cleared from his eyes, standing before him were the Guardians. They looked around, taking in their surroundings. All except for Dove. Her gaze was on him. She was dressed in a way he had not seen her dress in years. Dressed in a way he had never expected to see her dress again. Beyond her, Pulsar noticed Darque leaning forward, taking an interest.

 

Has the challenge been made?” Spellbinder's voice rang out.

 

No!” Bauer shrieked. “You can't be here!”

 

Silence,” the voice commanded without increasing in volume. “Aye, little witch. The challenge has been made.”

 

Spellbinder squared herself, bringing her staff with both hands on it to rest before her. “Has the challenge been answered?”

 

No!” Bauer screamed again.

 

Ye will not be warned again to remain silent. Nay, little witch, it has not.”

 

Then we beg leave to speak with our friend before he answers.”

 

Silence reigned for a long moment as if the voice were considering. “Aye, little witch. Be free.”

 

Well, I guess I'd better...” Lightning stopped when Dove lifted the butt of her spear into his path and it tapped against his chest. He turned to look at her, and she shook her head slowly a few times. “Kris?”

 

Not this time, Speedy,” she said gently.

 

What are you going to do?” he asked.

 

I need to face my fears. If you wouldn't mind, you can pick up after me.” He gave her a confused look. “You'll understand in a moment.” Dove turned to face Pulsar. Her determination was set. She let out a heavy breath through her mouth. The first step was the hardest.

 

She set a steady pace. What she meant to say she had rehearsed in her mind, in one form or another, for months. Sometimes you scare me, she had told him. She had had nightmares about him. They had been forced on her by a mentalist, but the underlying fear had been hers. The mentalist had only fed the fear and twisted it. She felt Jason watching her.

 

She cast her spear to the side. Without missing a step she released the clasp that held her cowl in place. She tossed that away.

 

Kris had faced Jason down like this once before. It had been hurried, rushed, in the heat of battle, trying to stop him from killing some of Anton's minions. It had cost her, her face. It had impacted on her self-confidence. It had added to the fear. Jason had power. Held it in his hands. Used it in battle. I'm just the chick with the wings.

 

Compared to then, this time she had all the time in the world. Reaching behind she pulled out the Tharian battle pike from where it hooked on her belt and snapped it out to full extension.

 

It clattered on the arena floor where she dropped it.

 

She pulled her medical bag so that it hung at her side. From it, she took out one of her lab coats. She put her arm in and flung it over her shoulders. Catching the far side of it, Kris slipped her other arm in. Below her wings, she caught the flaps of the coat, pulled them forward, and snapped them in place with practiced ease. By the time she was done, Kris was face-to-face with Pulsar.

 

Kris lay her hand upon Pulsar's chest. “Don't do this,” she whispered. “Please. Not like this. This isn't what she would want.” She smiled at him and realized that she was crying when the smile sent the tears falling down her cheeks. It hadn't been what she had intended to say.

 

Pulsar's chin dropped. He reached up as if to wipe away her tears, but he never touched her. Pulling back, he lifted his head. Kris couldn't tell if he was looking at their friends or at their enemies. She lowered her hand. His eyes lowered back to hers. At that moment Kris hated that Jason's eyes were covered, denying her that connection to him.

 

Flying backward, Pulsar rolled and headed back between the stones. Back to the warehouse.

 

Coward!” Bauer screamed. A bolt of the ebony lightning blasted him, sending him flying.

 

The challenge was rightfully made. It was not answered. As such, ye are free of the constraints of this place until ye depart.”

 

Thank you, Guardian,” Spellbinder said. “We will not remain long.”

 

Making his way across the arena, Darque said, “Get up,” without sparing a glance at Bauer. Kris turned at his voice and found him heading for her. “Well played, Doctor. I must say that I am quite impressed. I am curious, though, as to what you actually said to him.”

 

Keep wondering,” she said, stepping past him. “We're leaving.” Kris made her way back to her friends. Spellbinder slammed the butt of her staff into the arena floor. Blue lightning arced upward and they were gone.

 

Darque smiled.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Did a bit of polishing and editing. This is up in bits throughout, but here is the whole scene intact.

 

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 when he spoke Marlene's name gave Sharon pause. “Jason, are you okay?”

 

Jason's voice was tight with anger. “I'll survive, Sharon. That's what 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?”

 

“Please.”

 

“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 passed, you get the male witch aspect. So it all depends on the context in which it 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 a 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 quietly. 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 be 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 caused 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.” Sharon felt Jason shift on the couch and set his cup on the table. “Make a wish, Sharon. Imagine anything is possible tonight. No cost too high for whatever you wish for. What would you like for Christmas?”

 

Sharon quirked a smile at Jason. “What brought this on?”

 

“I don't have any plans for the holidays, Sharon. No shopping for presents for anyone. My heart isn't in it. So, if I can do one decent thing for the holidays, if I can do one thing for you, what would it be? What is the one thing, no matter how impossible it may seem, what is the one thing you would like?”

 

“To see again,” Sharon said quietly.

 

Sharon felt the tension drain from Jason. “What if it's possible?” To Sharon, it felt as if the tension Jason had been feeling crawled across the cushions and wormed its way into her. She set her wine glass on the table and rose. Without conscious thought, Sharon found herself standing in the same place Jason had been. Her sightless eyes staring out over the New York skyline. Her arms crossed in front of her, her hands on the sleeves of her silk blouse.

 

“There is nothing that can be done,” Sharon finally said. “The damage is too deep. The tissues too scarred. Nothing medically can be done.” A trace of anger gave vent through her voice. “You know that.” She rounded on Jason. “The world's greatest cyberneticists, ocular or otherwise, tend to be our enemies. Arguably the greatest chance for one that could give me a working set of eyes you dropped a nuclear warhead on!”

 

“I'm not talking surgery,” Jason said. “I am not talking replacement. I am asking that if there was even an outside chance that your optic nerve could be repaired, healed, would you be willing to take the chance?” Opening her mouth to say something, Sharon stopped and thought. Her eyes narrowed on where Jason was sitting. Her mouth slowly closed.

 

“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.

 

Stretching out on the couch, his back resting on the armrest, Jason made himself comfortable. “Are you willing to take the chance?”

 

A long moment passed in silence as the options, the possibilities ran riot in Sharon's normally collected thoughts. Her hands slipped down. Her arms uncrossed. “What would I have to do?”

 

“Come sit with me.” His leg slipped off the couch, allowing her the room to sit between his legs. “After that, when you're ready, just put your hands in mine.”

 

Taking a few tentative steps, Sharon stopped. “Worst case, what can go wrong?”

 

“Absolutely the worst case?” Sharon heard a touch of humor in Jason's voice. “The worst case, I apply too much power, and we spend the rest our time together looking for your eyes or your head explodes.”

 

“Smart ass. I'm being serious.”

 

Jason's voice sobered. “The worst case, Sharon, that I see, is you walk out of here no better than when you walked in.”

 

Thoughts jumbled in her head like a crashing wave on the shore. Possible, but dare she take the chance? But what if...? Sharon turned back towards the window.

 

“How are you sleeping?” she asked, buying time to think things through rather than just jump without seeing the bottom.

 

“I...sleep, Sharon. I push myself until I'm exhausted and then I push a little further.”

 

“That isn't healthy. Even for you. When was the last time you slept?”

 

“I know. It has already caused problems. Short tempered and I've felt my control slipping at times.” That admission did not help Sharon's mental state. “I slept for a few hours three...no, four days ago.”

 

She focused her attention fully on Jason. His head was tilted back as if he were looking at the ceiling. “So why me? Why not find another guinea pig for this experiment?”

 

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because if you hadn't pushed me into that suit we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation.” Sharon sensed Jason's humor. In her mind, Jason quirked up a smile at her. With her own back turned to Jason, she felt her own mouth pull up into a small smile.

 

“Point taken,” she said, turning back into the room. “But you needed to do something at the time. And you have to admit that at times this is fun.”

 

“At times,” he agreed. “Even with the pain involved, there's always the rush that comes from the doing. Playing sports is generally safer, though.”

 

Having crossed back to the couch while Jason was talking, Sharon sat. She was close enough that all she needed to do was turn and lean back against him. “So if I go through with this all I have to do is just sit?”

 

“Prior experience tells me that you really won't be able to do anything else. When Aaron was born I had to hold back so that Kate could actually use what I was giving her to give birth. If I hadn't she wouldn't have been able to move on her own.”

 

Sharon, usually calm and collected, was nervous. She turned her back to Jason and put her feet up before leaning back into him. Jason put his own leg back on the couch. Then he rested his hands palm up on his raised knees.

 

Turning her head to the side, Sharon said, “It's been a while since I've been this close to anyone.” Jason's arm slipped down across her and held her close for a moment. Sharon's own hand caressed his bare forearm. “Can I ask you, before you try blowing my eyeballs across the room, how you found out you could do this?”

 

“Marlene.”

 

Waiting a long moment with no further comment from Jason, Sharon said, “I don't track.”

 

Jason dropped his head, leaning his cheek into her hair. “After Leah...when...,” Jason sighed. “Marlene and I used to have lunch or dinner together about once or twice a week. On one of those dates, Marlene decided that she wanted to have a picnic on the beach. So we went. She went out on the rocks. A wave came in and knocked her off. Banged her up pretty good. Gashed her leg. I did everything that the first aid training Doctor Tyler insisted we all have suggested. I couldn't get the bleeding to stop. I had my hand on the gash, applying pressure and then...”

 

“And then your power did what you wanted it to do,” she said quietly.

 

“Seems that way.” Jason's hand returned to rest on his knee.

 

“So, just put my hands in yours. In more ways than one.”

 

“When you're ready,” he said.

 

Sharon let her hands caress Jason's arms. When her fingers crossed over from his wrists, she said, “Well then,” and slipped her hands into his. His fingers curled over the back of her hands, and she gave a gentle squeeze.

 

And his power flowed.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Wings beating the air, Kris threw herself off Jason's balcony. She quickly gained altitude.

 

“Hey, Kris,” Jason called.

 

Kris turned herself about, wings beating harder to hold her in place. Jason had a boyish grin. Kris couldn't recall the last time she'd seen him with one. “Yeah?”

 

“I can see up your skirt from here.”

 

She couldn't help but smile back at him. “Pervert,” she called back.

 

“Love you.”

 

“Love you back.” Kris turned back and headed toward the city.

 

* * * * *

 

Jason stood on the balcony, watching Kris slowly vanish into the distance. He stayed there long after she disappeared. His hand curled into a fist. He closed his eyes and exhaled. He forced his hand open and then opened his eyes. “You can't have her,” he said.

 

Turning back into the apartment, Jason made his way to the bedroom. He opened the closet door and took out biking leathers. He disappeared those and then changed into them in a crimson flash. He took a motorcycle helmet off a hook and closed the closet door.

 

With a crimson flash, his phone appeared in his hand. There were several text messages waiting. He selected one and responded with, “I'm on my way.”

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  • 4 weeks later...

Jason rose from the bench, gathered his helmet under his arm, and collected his gloves. “Just one last thing, Anton. You pride yourself on your sense of honor, however twisted others might see it.”

 

Darque nodded. “You happen to have something of a reputation for honesty, yourself,” he said.

 

“Just as long as we understand each other. If I ever find out you played any part in what Bauer did to Leah, I will kill you.”

 

“Miss Capwell's ordeal was none of my doing, Jason. I give you my word. Up until you blew a hole through his chest he was a work in progress. Until then, all he had been to me was an information conduit into Nova Research. His dealings with her were entirely between the three of you.”

 

Nodding, Jason turned his back to Darque and began pulling on a glove as he headed out the door.

 

“A work in progress,” Anton said quietly with a small smile. “Oh, miss, you may take this now,” he said indicating the fanned out bills on the table. “I will be taking my leave now.” Darque arose, waved his hand, took two steps into the middle of the bar and simply disappeared from the server's sight.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Picking himself up from the mud, Jason slowly stood. His head was down. His glowing eyes were up, giving a sinister cast to his bald head. Hands open, palms forward, fingers curled slightly inward, Jason's hand began to glow.

 

“This is not a good time for a pissing contest, Anton. I don't have a clue as to how guest-right works. I'm not a wizard. He is an invited guest. He has accepted my hospitality. He is my friend. As such he is under my protection. And in case you missed it, I am really pissed.” Jason shifted. One foot slid back. Anton recognized it as a prelude to an attack.

 

“You would be well advised to listen to him, Daddy,” Angelique said.

 

Anton looked around. Old Joe was still chanting. Thunder punctuated his steps. The Spellbinder, face wet beneath her hood from tears trailing power, stood ready. Her staff in one hand with the head held towards Darque. Her other hand, fingers splayed, held a ready spell to throw his way. Arcane's fingers were tracing sigils in the air.

 

Around them, the Guardians battered and bruised as they were, held themselves ready to do battle once more.

 

“That orb is leaving with me!”

 

“That orb was fashioned by the Spellbinder. What it contains was put there by us,” Marlene said stepping forward.

 

“You dare? This does not concern you!”

 

Marlene smiled and lifted an eyebrow. “Doesn't it? Seems to me that Jason does concern me.”

 

“That orb, what it contains, Lord Darque, is MY burden! Ye will not have it!” Spellbinder loosed the spell in her hand, not at him, but at the orb.

 

Darque's power leaped outward, only to be blocked by Arcane. Anton turned to cast an eldritch bolt at the younger mage and was held in check by a bolt of lighting arcing down from the sky. Anton cast a glance at Leah. Lightning arced between her hands.

 

Turning back, Anton saw only a fading afterimage of the orb and Spellbinder's magic. “No!”

 

Anton saw something flying at him, trailing red. Then he was lifted into the air by Jason. “This ends now! Or you do!”

 

“This isn't over boy!”

 

“It is for tonight.”

 

“Fine!” Anton slipped free from Jason's hold and fell. Power flared beneath him. A portal ripped open reality. Darque fell into it.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Jason watched until the portal closed and then descended slowly, settling back into the mud outside the cabin. He looked around at his friends, dirty, disheveled, and in most cases wounded. Whether with bruises, cuts, scrapes, or deeper injuries. Marlene stood in the doorway, smiling. He allowed himself a small smile in return, but in the dark doubted she could see it.

 

“Where's Dani?” Trese asked.

 

“Warren,” Jason said, “I need a towel. One of the big ones.”

 

“No offense,” Warren responded, “but with everything we just went through I think we need a bit more proof of...”

 

Jason's eyes began to glow. Then the stones hanging from necklaces and Warren's ring began to glow as well. Crimson light, power, emanated from Jason, expanding rapidly, blinding all of them. They felt their aches and their pains vanish. Ash's shoulder popped loudly back into its socket with a whimper from her. All their injuries rapidly healed within that orb of Jason's power.

 

As the light faded and their vision cleared, they saw Jason slowly force himself up on his knees with one arm. Voice tight with pain, he said, “A towel. Please.” Jason grunted when his own shoulder resocketed. “And don't expect me to do that again.” He rocked back on his heels. “Ever.”

 

Taking the asked for towel from Kate, Angelique stepped up to Jason. She held out her hand and helped him to stand. “A towel and,” her gaze dropped lower, “something to cover with,” she said with a smile.

 

“Thanks, Angel,” he said with a warm smile. Taking the offered items, Jason disappeared both and then the shorts appeared on him with a crimson flash.

 

His friends and comrades watched him. A few took tentative steps forward, only to have Jason turn away. He limped to Spellbinder. Her head was down and her back to them all.

 

What did you do, you old bastard?” Jason heard her whisper. I simply provided a spark. I left it to see if it would start a fire. She was crying and laughing at the same time. “You never compelled either of them.”

 

“Adalene?”

 

“I'm sorry.” Spellbinder forced herself to stand upright. She turned to face Jason. “I'm sorry. I was the one that made you and Sandy...”

 

“I know.”

 

“How?” She dropped her head, allowing her hood to hide her face.

 

Lifting her chin, Jason brushed the hood back. Adalene looked up at him. The rain washing away her tears faster than they were falling. Motes of her magic fell with her tears, soaking into the ground. “What other reason did you have to be teaching at my high school?”

 

“You knew?”

 

“I figured it out a while ago. Arkayne wanted Marlene and me to stay apart for whatever reason. You had some type of relationship with him. It only made sense.”

 

“I'm sorry,” she said again.

 

“Did you have anything to do with her death?”

 

“No!”

 

She felt Jason's eye boring into her. “Did you have anything to do with my mother's death?”

 

“No.”

 

Jason's arms slipped around her, pulling her into an embrace. “We were happy, Adalene. We had things planned. We were happy. We were in love. In her memory I forgive you.” Her head fell against his chest. Sobs wracked her body as Jason held her.

 

“Why?”

 

“I told you before,” Jason said gently. “I am the Guardian of the First Gate, the first line of defense. I made you that promise. Nothing you have done, nothing you have said, makes me question that or my resolve.”

 

In time, she pushed herself away. “I should go.”

 

“No. There's plenty of room inside. You need to get cleaned up and rest.”

 

“I need a drink.”

 

Jason smiled at her. “Michaels!”

 

“What?” Brad yelled back.

 

“The lady needs a drink. You're the bartender.”

 

“Asshole.”

 

“Up yours, too, Brad.”

 

Some laughed. Kris said, “Some things are normal.”

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  • 2 weeks later...

Catching his reflection in a piece of polished chrome, Jason brushed his fingers through his hair and checked to make sure his bow-tie was straight before slowly descending the stairs. His eyes scanned the crowd for the dress he had purchased and the woman whom he wanted to meet.

 

Wending his way through the people, Jason's eye went from person to person. None of them sent the charge down his spine like the model on the runway had. Greetings and smiles, a few handshakes, but nowhere was the person of his interest.

 

“Hi, there,” a woman said when he stopped at the bar to get a drink. “Mm, ginger ale. Living life dangerously.”

 

Turning towards her, Jason's gaze traveled down her body covered in a red sheath dress, with matching shoes. Eyes returning to her face, her lips were rouged in the same shade as the dress. The color struck him as being entirely too bright for her. “The Babe Wore Red.”

 

She frowned and cocked her head slightly to the side. “Excuse me?”

 

“It's the title of a story,” Jason explained.

 

“Oh. I'm Celeste. And you are?” she asked with a smile that reminded Jason of a shark about to bite.

 

“Not interested. Excuse me,” he said, taking his drink, mingling, and continuing his search.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Excerpt from Darque's Journal

 

I have met with the boy, both against my better judgment and against the advice of others. He seems to feel that Angelique may still be alive. I wish I could be sure, but too often, particularly where the boy and his compatriots are concerned, things do not go as I would wish.

 

Ah, Phaedra, I wish, I hope that the boy is correct. Arthur always thought the boy had a way of connecting the dots. I needed Angelique to exert some influence over the boy. In my arrogance, I never considered the influence he may have exerted over her.

 

Friends! Bah! And with the very girl she was supposed to steer the boy away from!

 

I have given Croystetter orders to have his granddaughter work her way into the boy's confidence. Perhaps I should have Moray motivate the girl.

 

No. That would not work. Moray most likely would damage the girl beyond use.

 

Were we friends, Arthur? Ever it seemed our swords were crossed. And yet, in your passing, I find myself missing our talks, our games. Your successor has not, as yet, crossed me. I know not even who it is.

 

I do not even have the Spellbinder to question. She is too far involved with the boy and his companions. Always, Arthur, you had her there to confound me. Placing her in that school as a teacher. Keeping an eye on him. I am surprised the boy has not recognized her from that.

 

Then, when I thought to have Angelique involve herself with the farm boy, the Spellbinder was there, becoming his friend. What is it with that damnable girl and schools?

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  • 3 weeks later...

“Anywhere I can drop you?” Jason asked.

 

Shaking her head slowly with a mischievous smile, Angelique said, “Mm uh. I'm a big girl. I don't have a curfew.” She ran her hands slowly across the leather upholstery of the limo. “So, what does the hostess get paid for her services?”

 

Jason watched her as she slid forward on the seat and closer to him. “What do you have in mind?”

 

Reaching out, Angelique took hold of Jason's tie, slid a leg to either side and straddled him. She looked him in the eyes before leaning close and nipping his bottom lip.

 

Pushing her back to look at her, Jason said, “You're drunk.”

 

“Maybe a little. Does it matter?” Angelique leaned back in and started kissing him.

 

Jason found that, at that moment, it didn't matter.

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Angelique's hand slowly swept the bed. Turning her head she saw that the other pillow was empty. Her head was thick and throbbing. The dull ache of a hangover was an unwelcome guest on mornings like this, but not unexpected.

 

Rolling over was a chore. Looking out through the skylight, Angelique could tell it was daytime, but the overcast sky hid the sun. She draped her arm over her eyes. Trying to remember the evening before, it only came in spurts. She recalled having dinner with Arthur. Then, later, a party of some sort. The more she pried at that the more her head pounded.

 

Moving her hand slowly down her naked body, sensitive areas tingled letting her know that she would be tender for a few days at the very least. It happened like that sometimes. Bruises weren't uncommon depending on how rough the guy might have been with her. Not that it was ever something she had to deal with. Whoever she spent these types of nights with always ended up dead after she left.

 

Sitting up slowly, Angelique caught her reflection in a mirror. Her exposed leg was still covered with a stocking. She hadn't noticed her belt still on when she had done her inspection. Another hammer-blow inside her head caused Angelique to close her eyes.

 

Casting her eyes about the room, none of her clothes were apparent. Maybe downstairs. Standing slowly, she wrapped the bed sheet around herself. How do I know there is a downstairs?

 

Heading towards the arch at the top of the stairs, Angelique noticed a picture frame lying face-down on the dresser. She lifted it up only to find Jason and Leah smiling at her.

 

“No! Oh, Bright Lady, no!” She placed the frame back on the dresser.

 

Feet slapping the risers, Angelique used the handrail to keep herself steady. Her vision was blurry.

 

“I was wondering when you were planning on getting up,” Jason said. “I've got some lunch made. Are you crying?”

 

“Bright Lady! I'm sorry! I'm sorry.” Angelique put her hand up with her fingers splayed. A violet light appeared, spinning slowly. Angelique jumped into the light and disappeared. The light itself faded.

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Jason watched as the light faded from view. “Guess I was hungrier than I thought,” he said, turning his attention back to the pan on the stove. Turning the food with a spatula, Jason cut the heat and moved the pan to a cool burner. Reaching for a plate, Jason's eyes shot to the top of the stairs when a loud crack sounded through his loft. He set the spatula down.

 

There was another crack that sounded like wood breaking. Jason began moving sideways to where he could get a clear view of the stairs, keeping his eyes turned that way. Another crack and plaster bounced down the stairs. The first thing he saw looked like the foot of a gorilla; bare pale human-colored flesh. The fur of the leg was reddish-orange. Redder than an orangutan's fur.

 

As the thing descended the stairs, with plaster and dust coming along, the next thing of it Jason saw was a bone-spur jutting from its knee. It bent over, its face becoming visible below the ceiling line. Tusks jutted from its jaw. There was malevolent intelligence in its eyes.

 

“You reek of her!”

 

“That tends to happen when you play Tame the Wild Scruffy all night, Scruffy. I wasn't drunk last night and I sure as hell don't remember bringing you home. So, we'll skip over how the hell you got in here and go straight to what do you want?”

 

Scruffy jumped from the stairs landing heavily on the floor. Wood cracked under its feet. Talons on its fingertips and bone-spurs jutted from its elbows. Scruffy stood around four feet tall and seemed twice as wide.

 

“Kill you!”

 

“Not much of a conversationalist, are you?”

 

Scruffy charged. A blow from its massive fist sent Jason flying the length of the loft, stopped by his computer desk. Getting to his feet, Jason noticed the trickle of blood down his chest where the thing's talons had shredded his shirt. He tore that free and dropped it.

 

Watching as the wounds on Jason's chest closed, Scruffy asked, “What are you?” in its guttural voice.

 

Jason felt his control drop. His eyes were glowing red. Power was in his hands, begging for release. “Apparently, more than you were expecting.” Twin lances burned from Jason's palms and slammed Scruffy into the steel door of the loft, leaving a noticeable dent as it charged again. Jason spun, avoiding the brunt of Scruffy's shoulder. His knee shot up into its jaw. One tusk ejected, piercing the ceiling plaster.

 

A backhand blow sent Jason into his dining table, breaking the back of a chair when he slammed through it. Up on one knee, Jason fired twin lances again. Scruffy blocked with a forearm, but Jason kept the power flowing.

 

First one, and then the other broke through. Scruffy's arm melted. Then the beams worked on its chest until that started melting. The beams lost any resistance. One went through the desk, before joining the other going through the wall. Scruffy turned into some kind of slime that smelled worse than an open sewer. Jason cut his blasts.

 

“Okay, Scruffy. Where did you scurry off to?” Jason moved slowly, skirting the puddle of goo. A cursory glance told him that his desk and all the electronics it housed would need replacing. “Time for an upgrade, Mentor.”

 

A quick glance at the holes in the wall and Jason cursed. Glancing through he saw the damage didn't penetrate the building behind. “Saved a few bucks there, Scott.”

 

Jason watched the puddle evaporate. The smell lingered.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Adalene Masters, the Spellbinder, stepped from the alley. House calls were a necessary part of her job. Even for a simple consultation. Walking along the block, she kept one eye one the street numbers, and the rest of her awareness on her surroundings. There were more dangers in the city than just the human predators.

 

Coming to the building that was her destination, she stepped up to the door and pressed the button on the intercom. The panel had room for several, along with spaces for businesses or names, but there was only one.

 

After a moment's pause, the intercom came to life. “Elevator to the third floor.” The door lock popped free and Adalene entered. The elevator was situated at the end of a short hall. She pressed the call button only to have the door immediately open. She stepped inside and pushed the button for the third floor.

 

For being an older building, Adalene found the elevator ride to be smooth. The door opened on a similar hall as the first floor. This hall had some equipment crates lining the wall. Glancing at them as she stepped past, she noted they were all embossed with either SE in an interlocking block and diamond or with Scott Enterprises spelled out.

 

The door was open, and she heard several voices from within. “Thanks for the prompt work, gentlemen,” she recognized Jason's voice before she turned into his apartment. “I will be sure to call if I end up with anymore holes in my walls.” Jason handed a check to one of the workers. As the workers heading towards the door, Jason acknowledged her. “Ah, Miss Masters,” he said with a smile.

 

Adalene lowered the hood of her cloak. Both men nodded at her as they went past. “Dinner smells good. What is it?” she asked.

 

“Beef tenderloin. I didn't want you thinking I was paying you too cheaply for your consultation.”

 

“What were those guys doing?”

 

Pointing at the back wall where his desk sat, Jason said, “Patching the two holes in the wall. I don't need to try heating the whole city myself. Too cold to leave them open. Other than that and me cooking, the place is, more or less, as it was when Scruffy departed.”

 

“Scruffy?” She set her bag on the dining table. Adalene slipped her cloak off. “Where can I put this?”

 

“Rack on the back of the entry.” Adalene turned and saw what he indicated. She hung her cloak up.

 

“The chair?” she asked.

 

Stirring a pot, Jason said, “That was me. Scruffy sent me flying.”

 

Taking a smoked crystal out of a pouch, Adalene asked, “Where did it start?”

 

“Up the stairs and hang a left.”

 

Stepping to avoid chunks of plaster, Adalene noted the gouges in the wall. She spread her fingers and compared them to the gouges. Scruffy's hand was apparently much bigger than her own. At the top of the stairs there was a short hallway. An open arch to the left and a little further down on the right, a door.

 

Within Jason's bedroom was a wide closet lacking any doors, taking up much of one wall. Next to the entry was a tall chest of drawers. There were two nightstands, bracketing the wreckage of a king-size bed. The wooden frame was splintered in several places. The frame of the box springs was likewise damaged beyond use. The mattress itself had been rent almost the entire length, as if some crazy slasher had a go at it.

 

Holding her crystal up. She looked through it as if it were a lens. “Bright Lady,” she muttered to herself. She lowered the crystal. With a quiet incantation, Spellbinder brought up her witch-sight. Raising her crystal again, she turned it, trying to bring something into focus.

 

Spellbinder watched as a tear appeared above the bed and Scruffy fell through it. The shredding of the mattress was incidental, caused by talons and bone-spurs as it stood. The damage done to the bed itself caused by Scruffy's weight as it hit and then stepped off. She followed as the image went down the stairs.

 

The damage to the wall as it descended seemed to be for no other reason than the creature could. Scruffy bent over. It's mouth moved as if it spoke. Mental note: add audio. The thing leapt for the floor, causing more damage.

 

With a speed belying its size, Scruffy charged out of her sight. She rushed down the remaining stairs and caught sight of crimson marking the spurs of one hand. “It marked you,” she commented.

 

“Marked me?”

 

“It bled you. Raked you with the spurs.”

 

“Yes. Healed already.”

 

Spellbinder pursed her lips. “That isn't the point. It has marked you. If it can find a way back over it will find you.”

 

Jason smiled. “Good. That will make things easier.”

 

“I've seen what I needed to see. Would you like to tell me who the person you were with was?”

 

Stirring a pot, Jason thought before answering. “No. I don't think so. Not yet, at any rate. I want to deal with this myself if possible.”

 

“That thing could have killed you. When it comes back, and it will, it just might,” she warned.

 

“I think I'm up for the challenge. First question, what was it?”

 

Adalene slipped the crystal back into its pouch. “It's called a hrumguroth. It is a fourth tier infernal.”

 

“Which means what?”

 

“Imps and the lesser infernals are first tier. As the tiers increase, so does the danger.”

 

“Spellbinder, in English, please. Give me something I can compare it to.”

 

Adalene sighed. “Jason, I don't deal with the same type of things you and the others do. I deal with demons and devils and idiots that think they can summon either up without consequence. I deal with other spellcasters.

 

“A hrumguroth is strong, malevolent, with a baseline intelligence roughly that of an undisciplined teenager. They have a tendency to cause damage for no other reason than they can,” she explained.

 

“Infernal?”

 

“A demon.”

 

Nodding, Jason said, “A dimension traveler.”

 

Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Adalene said, “Asprin did no one any favors with that definition.”

 

Smiling at her, Jason said, “Well, he did have the right of it. We go to another dimension, we're demons.”

 

“Demon has other connotations, though,” she exasperated.

 

“Okay, so strong, some brain power, and violent. Sounds like Thumper.”

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With practiced ease, Beth's fingers tied and tightened her father's tie. “So what are you going to do?” Frank asked his daughter.

 

“I don't know. I don't want him to think that I'm abandoning him. Not now,” Beth said miserably.

 

Marlene helped Frank into his suit coat. “He told you, Beth. He doesn't see it as you abandoning him.”

 

“My apologies,” Jason said entering the room. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Beth, we discussed this. I had you for eight years. Our agreement, your contract, was only for 5 years. You extended it.”

 

“You couldn't tie your tie without me,” Beth teased.

 

“You've been an excellent personal assistant. I couldn't have been happier. Just make sure you apply due diligence to that replacement clause in your contract,” Jason teased back.

 

“I've got someone in mind,” Beth said, adjusting Jason's red tie. “Unless you're going to take Marlene on as your PA. I'm not sure I like this tie against a black shirt.”

 

Jason was silent for a moment. “It makes a statement,” he said quietly.

 

“Sure it does. It says, 'Help! I've been shot!'” Marlene joked. Jason's face fell. “I'm sorry, Jason. I didn't think.”

 

Jason held up the case he was holding. “Mr. Gilbert... Frank, I think my dad would have liked you have this.”

 

Frank released the latch on the case and lifted the lid. Inside lay Charles' antique chess set. “Son, I can't. It wouldn't be right.”

 

“Then consider it a loan. Until you and dad can play again.”

 

Closing the lid and setting the latch, Frank nodded. “You know, back when you ran off with my little girl, I kinda hoped that, maybe...”

 

“Your daughter is intelligent, capable, graceful, beautiful...”

 

“Like her momma,” Frank agreed.

 

“You're making me blush,” Beth said.

 

“...incredibly sexy...” Jason added.

 

“Now you're just teasing.”

 

Jason smiled at her. “Anyone that manages to capture her heart and can keep it will have quite a treasure.”

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  • 2 weeks later...

Emily walked Stacy slowly through the lobby of the Stacy Lane-Scott Memorial Tower. Or as it was more commonly known, Guardian's Tower. Stacy was still weak, but her doctor assured her that fresh air would do wonders.

 

They approached an elevator that most seem to avoid. Stacy looked up at her mom. “Go ahead,” Emily said with a smile. Stacy touched the panel beside the door. It lit up with Mentor's computer-generated image.

 

“Mrs. Deveraux. Miss Deveraux. Please, step inside.” The elevator doors slid apart.

 

They stepped inside and the doors closed. Moments passed with no sensation of movement. Stacy glanced at her mom and asked, “When does the car start moving?”

 

“The elevator you are in is experimental technology. The car has been in motion since ten seconds after the doors closed,” Mentor informed her. “The elevator also works at speeds in excess of most express elevators.”

 

“Oh,” Stacy said contritely.

 

The doors slid open once again.

 

“Hi,” Dani said. “You got your hair cut.”

 

“Yeah, I did,” Stacy said.

 

Dani stepped close and took Stacy in an embrace. “How are you doing?”

 

Stacy broke the hug and stepped back. “I'm okay,” she said with a weak smile. “Not one-hundred percent, yet, but I'm working on it.”

 

“Can you stay for lunch?”

 

“I think we can,” Emily said.

 

Stacy looked around. “Where's Trese?”

 

“California. I think to keep an eye on Marlene,” Dani said with a wink, “but don't quote me on that.” A panel opened and a small rack rolled out. “Purses and jackets and anything else you don't want to have to carry around while you're visiting.”

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“If he doesn't bring you down for lunch, just call out to Mentor and I'll come get you,” Dani said.

 

Stacy nodded. “Thanks, Dani.” Dani headed down the hall back to the elevator. Stacy turned to face the door. She looked around, seeing nothing to announce herself with.

 

“He's expecting you,” Mentor said and the door to Jason's apartment slid open.

 

Stepping inside, Stacy looked around. Compared to the loft this place was clean. Jason was sitting on a stool, palette in one hand, brush in the other. “Mom will want to see that,” she said. With a light touch of the brush, Jason worked on Marlene's smiling reflection.

 

“She probably will,” Jason said. “Your mom has always been one of my strongest supporters when it came to my painting.”

 

Stacy stepped closer. “That window looks familiar. Is that the mate to the painting you did with Sandy?”

 

“Yes. Not too many realize that. Those that get to see them hung will realize, though. How are you feeling?”

 

Stacy moved closer. “Shaky. Scared. I can't believe how close I came to dying.”

 

“If it helps,” Jason said quietly, “I know someone you can talk to about it.” He set the palette down and the brush atop it. He turned to face her.

 

“I've got a...counselor to talk to.”

 

Jason smiled. “Been there. Still doing that. I'm not talking about a counselor. I was thinking more in line of someone who has been there. Someone that shut herself out from everything except a few people.”

 

“Kate?” Jason nodded. “I don't know. I mean I don't want to dump this all on anyone else.” Stacy seated herself on the couch. “How... how did you know I was in trouble? On the one hand it is kind of neat that I've got a superhero looking out over me, but on the other hand, kinda weird that...”

 

“Worried that I'm spying on you?” Stacy's eyes darted away and she nodded. “Stace, it isn't like that.” Jason got a hand mirror Marlene had left behind. He took a seat on the other end of the couch. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Now take your necklace out.” Stacy fiddled with her chain until the pendant and the stone Jason had given to her for her birthday fell out.

 

“Now what?”

 

“Look into the mirror.” Stacy lifted the mirror until she blocked Jason's face with it. She took in her own reflection. There was still darkness around and under her eyes. The shorter hair was easier to deal with on a daily basis, but the woman looking back at her wasn't someone she was used to seeing.

 

Jason touched Stacy's hand and she jumped. Jason smiled at her when she looked at him. “What am I supposed to see?” From deep inside, Jason's eyes began to glow. Looking into the mirror, Stacy saw that the stone in her pendant was also glowing.

 

“If you get hurt, I'll know. The stone isn't a parlor trick. You and I are connected and your stone represents that. It doesn't make me a mind-reader. Physical sensations that tend to be extreme, like if you stub your toe, bang your shin on something, I'll know. Strong emotional spikes I can sometimes pick up on. With you, it was the lack of anything. A dullness from the connection that sent me looking for you.”

 

“I can't believe I ended up like that, though,” Stacy said miserably.

 

“Bad things happen to good people, Stace. Assholes shouldn't medicate to get laid. He knew he had a problem with you before I ever showed up.”

 

“Can I ask why? You healed mom. Took the bullet out of her and all that.” Tears were falling from her eyes. “But with me...”

 

“I healed your arm when we fell. I broke mine in the process. I healed your mom and bled all over the hospital floor. I'm a filter, Stace. Whatever you were affected with, if it was just something he dropped in your drink or injected you with once you were back at his apartment, if I had healed you I would have taken that stuff into myself. Recreational drug use is not something I want to mess around with. Somethings I know how my body will deal with. Poisons tend to be flushed. But there are other things out there that can seriously mess me up. Even with my abilities.”

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  • 2 weeks later...

Yawning and stretching, Ash headed down the hall to her room. She stopped when she saw Jason exiting his room. “Where are you going?”

 

“I'm leaving.”

 

“Why?”

 

Jason turned and looked at her. “I have things I need to do. Responsibilities that I am not meeting here.”

 

“Fine. We'll get the team together and...”

 

“Ash, it isn't a team issue. I have a company that needs my attention. I have to be in court in Los Angeles inside of a week.”

 

“When will you be back?”

 

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Jason said, “When I get back.”

 

“Dammit, Jason!”

 

“What do you want from me? You made it painfully clear that I have helped enough around here. So I am going to look in on my family's company and do what I should have been doing since my father's funeral.” Jason's hand slammed the wall. Access to the central flight shaft opened. Just as quick, Ash's hand shot out to the access panel and caused the shaft access to close.

 

“Have you even looked in on her?”

 

“Yes. Are we through?” Jason pressed the access panel once more.

 

Ash glared at him and pressed the access panel again. “No, we aren't through!”

 

“Rhetorical question, Miss Parks. Mentor, override and open the shaft access.” When the way was clear Jason made to step through. Ash made a grab for Jason's shoulder. Jason's arm snapped up, deflecting Ash's hand. He went through the access backward. “We're done.”

 

With a familiar crimson flash, Jason's bag and clothes disappeared. Pulsar headed towards the floor.

 

“Mentor, can you deny him access to leave.”

 

“I am sorry, Ash. Jason has foreseen your request and has already overridden the garage exit. He will be leaving as soon as he gets in his car.”

 

“Dammit,” she said quietly.

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  • 1 month later...

“That wood is going to require replacing.”

 

Kate stood a few steps below Warren as he applied plaster to the wall. “What do you think it was?”

 

Warren stopped and examined the gouges he'd been filling in Jason's wall. “I have no idea. There are people I know of that can do this, but I honestly can't think of a reason Jason would have any of them here.” Using the trowel he applied more plaster and began spreading it along the grooves.

 

Hearing a key against the door Kate smiled. “He's here.” Jason slid the door open. “Hey.”

 

Jason smiled. “Hey, yourself.” He set two full bags on the table. “I appreciate that, Warren.”

 

“No problem. Floor tiles were easiest. Found the leftovers from when we laid it.” Warren applied more plaster and moved lower down the stairs. “Who was it?”

 

“A demon.”

 

“Who's 'Demon'?” Kate asked.

 

“You're joking,” Warren said.

 

Jason shrugged. “Not a who, Kate. A what. A demon.”

 

“You're not joking.”

 

Jason slipped his long coat off and hung it on the rack. His suit coat came off, and he hung that on the back of one of the dining chairs. “I'm afraid not.” He loosened his tie, undid his sleeve cuffs and rolled those up to just below his elbows.

 

“Jesus,” Warren said quietly. “Why would one pop up here. I saw the mess your bed is.”

 

“New one gets delivered tomorrow. Since you're here, I want to show you something.” Jason moved to his desk and picked up the museum magazine. “What do you make of this?” He pointed out the photo that had sent him to the museum.

 

Warren shrugged. “Pretty lady. Can't really tell what she is working on.”

 

“Yes, she is. Painting she is cleaning up isn't what I want your opinion on, either. Painting in the back.”

 

“It's out of focus.” Warren shifted the magazine back and forth. “No... You can't be serious.”

 

Jason smiled. “How old would you say she is?”

 

“Mid-twenties? Maybe thirty?”

 

“Who are you talking about?” Kate asked.

 

Setting his phone on the desk, Jason said, “Mentor, pull the photos I took off the phone and put one up for me.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Jason's phone lit up. The desk lit up and the monitor hanging on the wall switched on.

 

“Everything up to speed?”

 

“Yes, sir. Your photo.”

 

“She's beautiful,” Kate said.

 

“Beautiful,” Warren agreed. “Sexy, devious, and dangerous.”

 

The Lady in Blue,” Jason said. “Painted by Heinrich Wagner sometime around nineteen-thirty.”

 

“Who is it?”

 

“Angelique,” Warren said quietly. “But she's around our age.”

 

Jason shrugged again. “Her father is over four-hundred unless you want to call him a liar.”

 

“Not to his face, no.”

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“Hey, Lieutenant. What are you doing?”

 

Lt Bressler looked up from the report she was reading. “Report comparison. Harrison and Jimenez got a call in an alley. Four yahoos got themselves jacked. Badly. Broken jaw, whiplash, concussion, cracked sternum, torn ligaments in a knee, various scrapes and bruises. We got a knife with blood on it, but none of the, damn, I hate calling these guys 'victims', but none of them have any cuts or stab wounds.”

 

“Blood sample?”

 

“Crime scene took care of all that already.” Bressler leaned back in her chair and brushed her fingers through her hair.

 

Capt. Frank Stone sat on the desk opposite of Bressler's. “What's the story?”

 

“Interviews from the one's capable of talking are pretty close. They were having a conversation with a woman. Their descriptions of the woman vary; she was a blonde, a redhead, she was of average height somewhere around seven-foot. They figured the five of them were safe cutting through an alley to where their car was parked. Someone jumped them from behind.”

 

“Seven foot? Sasquatch sighting in New York!” one of the detectives listening in called out.

 

“If we can find her maybe you'll finally get a date that isn't your sister,” Bressler shot back.

 

“Oh, that hurts, Bress!”

 

“Thoughts?” Stone asked.

 

Bressler picked up one of the reports and scanned it. “Honestly, I'm thinking vigilante. Whether or not it was this supposed woman or a third party, I don't know.”

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  • 3 weeks later...

“I have been allowed to show you something.” His companion waved her arm and mists began to clear.

 

Jason watched as images formed and became clearer as the fog receded. A tree to the left, the fringed edge of a blanket, a cooler off to the side. The fog pulled back further. There was a girl, a young woman, sitting on the blanket. Dark brown hair fell to her waist. When sunlight broke through the leaves of the tree and caught her hair, natural red highlights would flash.

 

She wore shorts and a tank top. Her legs were loosely crossed and she was barefoot. Her sneakers were aside the blanket within her easy reach. Soda cans sat atop the cooler, empty ones were tossed haphazardly around it. In her lap sat a black acoustic guitar. Her fingers nimbly worked the strings. The tune tickled Jason's memory.

 

“That's one of your songs.”

 

“Yes. One I never finished. She's been working on it.”

 

Moving closer, Jason stepped around the blanket. He squatted down in front of the girl. She looked up from the guitar and smiled. “Hi,” Jason said. Her eyes were a bright green.

 

“They can neither see us nor hear us.”

 

“They...?” Jason turned and saw a young man. He bent over and sorted through stones on the lake's shore. He picked up a few and dropped them into his right hand. He chose one and sent it skipping over water. Jason noted he was left-handed.

 

“Did you see that? Fifteen skips!”

 

“That was a good one,” she agreed. “Aaron, how come you don't date?”

 

Aaron shrugged. “I date.”

 

“Not seriously. You go out with friends. You hang out at Rosie's.”

 

Turning to look at her, Aaron said, “Maybe...maybe because I already know what...who it is I want.” Aaron turned back to the water and sent another stone flying.

 

“Then why not do something about it?”

 

Aaron dropped his head before he turned back to the girl. “Because her dad scares the piss out of me. Sandy...”

 

“Sandy?” Jason whispered. Sandy set the guitar aside and stood up. She was tall for a woman. 6-foot tall barefoot. The look on her face coupled with the green eyes made Jason think of Marlene.

 

“I keep hoping for a romance like my parents'.”

 

“Dad still chases after mom. Sometimes they act like teenagers when they think I'm not around. He would do anything for her.”

 

Sandy shrugged. “My dad is the same. He would find a way to give her the world if she asked for it.”

 

“Your parents are weird. Your mom, your dad... Aunt Leah for that matter, all look like they did twenty years ago.”

 

“Good genes. I hope I inherited them.”

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  • 2 weeks later...

A backhanded blow sent Dani to tumble through the mud. “Don't get yourself too beat up, Dani. I never got a taste of you before.”

 

Slowly picking herself up, Dani spit blood. She wiped her mouth with the back of one muddy hand, smearing mud and blood across her face. “You want a taste of Hellfire, you bastard?” Dani asked quietly, getting herself shakily to her feet. She closed her eyes.

 

The falling rain vaporized before it ever got near her. She began to hover, moving slowly upward. The mud beneath her feet dried, then baked to a consistency of concrete. Her eyes opened. The flames that normally danced there were gone. Dani's eyes were white-hot. She lifted her hand, pointing a finger at Jason. “Burn.”

 

Flames that normally would flow down Hellfire's arms as she threw fire were nowhere in sight. Jason's clothes ignited. His skin blackened and cracked. His healing factor repairing the damage only for it to blister and blacken again. His hair burned away.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Jenevieve Asher sat uncomfortably while Randall (first name or last, she couldn't be sure) stared at her from where he sat perched on a desk. Her eyes went to the window. It was a sunny, warm day, and she couldn't believe she was in California.

 

Eye contact broken, Jen heard Randall say “House” into the microphone hanging at his shoulder. “Mr. Scott, we have a...young woman here at the gate. She says her name is Jenevieve Asher.”

 

A flash of light caught her attention, and she turned to the monitor on the wall. She smiled and waved at Jason. When Jason didn't smile or acknowledge her, Jen lowered her hand. “Jake, escort Miss Asher to the house, please.”

 

“Yes, sir.” The monitor shut off. “Miss Asher, come with me, please.” He held the door to the security shack open for her. Jake waved to another member of the security team, who jogged over. “I need to escort this young lady up to the house.” The other guard simply nodded and took over the security shack.

 

Hoisting her two bags into the back of a small cart, Jake indicated the passenger seat. Jen got in.

 

* * * * *

Watching the cart on one of his monitors, Jason rubbed his temples. “Mentor, send a text to Beth that I need her at the house.”

 

He wasn't surprised when his phone chirped. “Hello, Beth.”

 

“What's going on? I was getting ready to head over to my dad's.”

 

“I have a...situation occurring and I think that it might be best for all concerned if you were here.”

 

“But my dad...”

 

Jason sighed. “Bring him with you, if you'd like. I'll make dinner.”

 

Hearing something in Jason's tone made Beth pause. “How bad is it?” she finally asked.

 

“911”.

 

“Damn. Alright. Give me a half hour. An hour if dad wants to come.”

 

* * * * *

“Thank you, Jake. That will be all.” Jake Randall nodded at Jason and closed the doors as he left. “Have a seat,” Jason said, indicating the chair across from his desk. Jen's eyes went from Jason to the chair and back to Jason. No hug. No “how are you?” Jen was seeing a side of Jason she never saw at the farm.

 

Jen slipped uncomfortably into the chair. Jason stared at her. Fidgeting, Jen unconsciously began playing with the seam of her jeans.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

Smiling, Jen said, “Well, I thought that...”

 

“Why aren't you in school? You're a junior. You have another six weeks before summer break.”

 

Jen's eyes dropped to her lap. “Dani told me that if I ever needed you that you would be there for me.”

 

Nodding, Jason said, “And Dani is correct. So what problem are you having that sent you out here to me instead of asking your brother or your parents?”

 

Jen cocked her head to the side before looking up at Jason. “Teach me to fight?”

 

“Why?”

 

“There are these kids. They hang out together. Cause trouble. Harass other kids.”

 

“Clique or gang?”

 

“A gang, I guess.”

 

“No.”

 

Jen was taken aback. “What? Why?”

 

“Because I'm not a teacher. I didn't learn to fight just to fight. I needed the discipline. The self-control and the patience that I learned. Patience that you are sorely testing now. There are things that you aren't telling me. Things you obviously don't want to tell me. You will, however, talk to someone that you trust. I get why you didn't tell Warren.”

 

“He would go all over-protective big brother.”

 

Jason smiled. “What makes you think I won't?”

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