Raquel's Trade

Part Thirteen: Super What??

section three

by Dr. Mercurious

PROLOGUE

            The dream was peaceful.  All around her was soothing blackness; she floated in it eyes closed and uncaring.  It was almost enough to make her forget the path chosen for her.  Oh how she missed the days when she was known as Merryquills, vagabond storyteller and jongeleur: not knowing where or what her next meal would be, where she would be sleeping, or how much coin was in her purse.  Even Shona, her birth-name would be better -- a hungry, abandoned waif at the mercy of a traveling performers' group.  How much better to be known even as that then as what everyone who knew magic called her -- Xendaen Mithrilsinger, the Dark Minstrel.

            *They come*

            A voice spoke in her dream, although calling it a voice was inaccurate -- more of a feeling whispering down her spine.  Long since a lucid dreamer, Xendaen opened her eyes and beheld her perfect blackness was no longer perfect.  She had company.

            *They Come*

            She could not see them since they blended perfectly with the darkness, but she could feel the heat of their presence.  She hated them, these Neverwas; they had refused the gift of existence, choosing instead to crouch in this nothing of a universe, safe from everlasting punishment or reward.  How dare they seek to now take what had been offered them freely?  Worse, they could not even keep what they stole!  The Neverwas knew of this restriction, and yet they still drank souls as they took the place of their owners – and sought to free their brethren.

            *THEY COME*

            Their prison had developed a hole; Xendaen could feel the ugly wound.  She struggled to awaken, yet some force held her fast.  I must warn my fellow Bards, she thought.  Not for the first time she cursed the need to keep the Neverwas secret.  Unfortunately, the more who knew of them, the more attention they would be given.  They could use then use such attention to influence reality: a senseless war here, a pointless death there -- anything that might generate waste and nothingness they could use as a gateway to the world.  She had no idea what had caused this hole to form, but there would be time enough to fix the problem once the Neverwas were stopped!  Why am I not waking up?  She fought, struggled harder, pushing to be free.

            A flicker of memories touched her.  Faint at first, then drips, then a river.  She stopped struggling immediately.  I do not dream, she realized.  I am not even me any longer.  I have died, I have been reborn and I am someone else now.  Xendaen could push her way to the forefront of course, obliterating her current personality as if it had never been, but she would never willingly do such a thing. Certain actions one never took no matter how dire the circumstances.  There was one thing she could do, however, and did it.  She summoned every ounce of strength she could spare without harming her current self and screamed at the top of her voice.  "They come!!  Please, someone hear, someone understand...the Neverwas are breaking loose!"

HERE

            Zalika had been in Phaeron's presence for a few minutes; he wasn't bothering to hide his aura from her, so she studied it.  He's been alive for longer than I've been undead, she mused.  He's immensely strong in Healing, Protection and Dimensional magic; there's a fourth specialty as well that I'm not familiar with.  His Mind spells are only at average strength but it remains to be seen if that's his Achilles heel.  "So," she said aloud, crossing your legs, "how long have you been onto me?"

            "I sensed your arrival last night, but I couldn't place you," he admitted.  "You're very good at Aura-related spells -- Adept level by the way we classify things.  However, I've had a dimensional-related disaster occur in Providence previously and had put up a Circle of Detection around it designed to target extra-dimensional related magic.  I knew what you were in general but I still had no specifics."  He bowed at her.  "You moved around so much that even when you cast a spell I couldn't pin you down."

            "The shield around Yolanda was your doing, wasn't it?"

            He chuckled.  "No that was Greg's, believe it or not.  I had him enchant some powder a while back to serve as a defense against lesser undead.  I figured you would target one of them to get more information and since I couldn't track you I tracked them.  I placed a reactive locator spell hidden in the powder, designed to go off as soon at it sensed a spell and burn itself out almost as quickly after broadcasting a location.  As for the rest, I can tell you've Castled with Raquel and I bet you came out of that tomb.  As for getting back, unless you know something I don't there's only one way to do it."

            "I have determined what I need to do and as far as luck goes, I don't need it.  I've managed to make a fairly good impression on Kayleigh." Zalika’s gaze hardened into a glare.  "Which is more than you've done."

            Phaeron flinched.  "You've learned about Vicki." There was real pain in his voice.

            "Can you blame me, then, for being so draconian with one of your minions?"  Her anger was only partially feigned as she shouted at him.  "What would anyone's reaction be upon hearing such a tale?"

            "Probably the same as mine," he sighed.  "Disgust.  I failed poor Vicki in almost every way there is to fail.  Never mind that when that magician came here he ripped an access point for one of the Abyssal Planes and I had no time to watch him and stop a demonic invasion.  I am called ‘leader’ by a goodly number of Gifted on this planet; it is my job to make time.  Even my attempt to help Vicki recover was a horrible failure.  I should have assigned a White to her when she went back home to Los Angeles -- a Black-controlled city -- and be damned with the consequences.  Instead, I accepted the word of the Black in charge of the city that he would watch out for her."  Phaeron's countenance twisted into a grimace of hatred.  "My only consolation is Eddie's opinion of what happened was lower than mine and reacted accordingly.  I'm told the underling in question still hasn't stopped screaming."

            "Eddie?"

            "He's the current Lord of Black, and the most powerful Necromancer on the planet.  He's also in Egypt at the moment, taking the Walk of the Shadow, an extremely dangerous magical 'test of worth'; he does it every year. " Phaeron allowed himself a small smile.  "Eddie will be very sorry he was away this weekend, and I plan on rubbing his nose in every chance I get."

            "Couldn't he resurrect Vicki?"

            Phaeron shook his head.  "Before he was slain, the magician cast a death-curse on Vicki which prevented her appearance from being restored and blocks any attempts to raise her from the dead.  I don't know if they have the death-curse in your universe and if it means the same thing, but simply put: the magician burns out his ability to be raised, resurrected or even reincarnated for the power to cast a spell that cannot be dispelled.  Only at the moment of the caster's death can such a trade be made, and it is irreversible.  Period."

            "Did you at least try?" Zalika pressed.

            "As a matter of fact, yes.  After her death Eddie and myself traveled to somewhere I do not mention casually and tried to do something about it.  We escaped with our hides mostly intact and the warm, cheery knowledge of our failure."

            Zalika decided she believed his version of events -- the sorrow and regret in his aura were genuine.  "I think you'd have an easier time of it if all the Gifted just went public."

            Phaeron immediately shook his head.  "Every time magic has openly become a part of society, there has been disaster.  Ys, Mu, Atlantis, Sodom and Gomorra, Troy...the list goes on.  Sometimes the cataclysm has been so complete no record of the civilization remains.  Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that magic and science are equally as strong in this universe but in different ways.  Until we find out the why, I'll not experiment with Armageddon."

            Magic is publicly known in my universe and things haven't gone bad.  It made her wonder if there wasn't a third group ensuring the disasters.  Something to investigate later.   "Let's just hope the next uberGifted feels the same way," she pointed out aloud.

            "Too late," he sighed.  "Over one thousand years ago, a porcupine fem named Shona was born possessed of the Bard Gift -- enough of it for five Adpet-class Gifteds.  Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad, but in this universe a Gifted can increase his power level through study and training -- and Shona was not even close to stupid.  Even worse, a war was brewing in a nearby dimension, and I was off making sure things didn't spill over here.  If I had been around, things would have turned out differently.  The whole story would take the better part of a week, but in a nutshell Gifted from both sides hounded this poor fem until she chose the path of destruction and became Xendaen Mithrilsinger -- the Dark Minstrel.  She took on twenty Gifted at one point and beat them soundly; it was sheer luck we managed to defeat her."

            Zalika sidled closer to him.  "Why do I hear a 'but' in there?"

            "She's been reborn," Phaeron replied.  "If I don't find her current reincarnation soon, she'll emerge and wash her current personality away.  I'm almost certain she'd go back to her old habits, which is full exposure of worldwide society to magic.  If she succeeds, there won't be any place to run from the next cataclysm."

            "How do you plan on dealing with her this time?"

            "I don't know," he sighed.  "I have an ace up my sleeve in the form of Cyndi, but she might not be enough."

            He had to have checked, Zalika thought.  He's too smart not to have checked.  "Cyndi could be Xendaen reborn," she pointed out.

            Phaeron shook himself violently for the briefest of moments.  "No fear on that score," he insisted in a flat voice.  "I checked that out myself."

            "I see."  An avoidance-spell.  She'd seen this sort of thing before; her opinion of Xendaen's intelligence went up three notches.  Keeping one's worst enemy alive and turning him into a liability for another large group of enemies was a master manipulator's touch.  "What is Eddie's opinion of this?"

            "I wish I knew, but Eddie’s a Black - he might not have a concrete reason for what his plans are."  Phaeron gave Zalika a penetrating look.  "I'd avoid him if I were you.  He has a hard-line policy about undead and he's defeated some fairly powerful liches who underestimated him."

            "Hm." If he's a specialist, I'm not terribly worried --  then again this dimension has surprised me once too many times already.   "So the only Gifted groups on this planet are the Whites and the Blacks?"

            "There are a few smaller groups.  They all tend to ally themselves with the Blacks or the Whites, although one based out of England is proving to be a serious threat."  Phaeron smiled at her.  "But enough about me; I've been a terribly rude host.  Let's talk about you."
            There goes my grace period. "Me?"  Zalika replied. 

            He raised an amused eyebrow.  "Yes, you.  I suspect we're going to butt heads at some point and I'd rather do it now while we're feeling amicable about each other."

            "Are you challenging me to a duel?" Zalika kept her tone mild but she wasn’t relishing the prospect, especially with her victory uncertain.

            "I prefer to think of it as a contest of skills.  'Duel' makes it sound as if I have something personal against you.  Such contests do occur among Gifted -- and the winner gets to demand something of the loser."

            Zalika could see the hook lurking in the bait dangling before her, but it was simply too tasty to pass up.  "Done.  If I win, you'll aid me in raising Vicki from the dead, up to and including establishing a legal identity and bankroll for my use."

            "And if I win, you agree to sign up as a White.  My current second-in-command is content with his current position and I could use someone of your skills as a potential replacement. I can tell by your aura you're more of a Black at heart, but you also seem to understand the value of order; all good Blacks do, just as a good White like myself understands the need for chaos.  The disagreement between the two lies in which should take precedence.  Give me a hundred years and I guarantee you'll fit right in with the rest of the Whites."  He scratched his chin.  "Of course if you don't want to play for such high stakes we can talk about something less risky." Somehow, he made the last word sound like 'failure'.

            She gave him a level look.  Big gambler, are you? Well so am I.  "No need; I find your terms acceptable.  Be warned, however, it might not be a good idea for me to stay here long-term unless you know anything about that tomb."

            "We’ re currently investigating it.  Still, arranging a return trip is simplicity itself; with a dimensional homing beacon cast on you I can find my way to your dimension and establish a stable gate."  He held out a hand.  "Mind if I translocate us somewhere more private?"

            She took his hand; as an afterthought, she grabbed Yolanda's detached arm in the other.  "Delighted."

STILL HERE -- SORT OF

            A fertile, grassy field stretched out under a a sky being caressed by the fingers of dusk.  Warm, gentle winds danced among the grass, somersaulting up a stooping tree, playing with the gold-colored apples before descending once again to the ground.  It was almost a pity there wasn't a soul around for miles to enjoy the lovely soon-to-be-evening.

            Then, suddenly, two figures appeared underneath the fruit tree.

            Zalika glanced around quickly.  I'm in another universe, but one very close by to Raquel's, she mused.  It would be no problem to go from here to there.  "Where are we?"

            Phaeron took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "Avalon," he sighed happily.  "A highly magical dimension just next door to the one we left.  In fact, it's so close the ambient manna here elevates the manna there.  It also happens to be where I was born."

            "I see." She studied the tree behind her intensely.  It actually produces manna and stores it in those apples!  "So is this where the societies of White and Black come from?"

            "No, but they were based off of the conflicts between the "Light' and 'Dark' races."

            "Sounds like a classic fairy tale -- the struggle between good and evil."  Zalika tore her gaze away from the tree with difficulty.

            "Some see it as such," he shrugged.  "There are examples of sinners and saints on both sides.  I prefer 'us and them'; it's closer to the truth.  Would you like a piece of ambrosia?"

             "I'd love one," Zalika purred, trying not to sound too eager.  So that's what kind of tree it is.   Ambrosia did much more than restore manna; it purged the body of all toxins and diseases as well as retarded aging. Truth be told, I'm interested in finding out more about Phaeron.  In her experience, most people who did questionable things tried to justify it by claiming to be 'good'; Phaeron didn't seem to be making that claim.  "Will the owner mind?"

            He gestured at the tree; one of the apples plucked itself and soared down to hover in front of her.  "Don't worry, I've got a bumper crop this year.  My great-uncle kept this orchard in top condition, since it was the source of his income."  His voice was tight.

            Zalika plucked the ambrosia out of the air.  "He passed away?"

            There was nothing pleasant about Phaeron's smile.  "With some help.  When I was seventeen he challenged me to a duel, thinking I was no match for him.  He forgot the first rule of combat is to never assume victory."

            "Sounds messy."  She took a healthy bite.  Immediately the rush of magical energy shot through her system, making both sets of nipples rock hard and igniting a fire of lust deep in her sex.  Phaeron politely turned his head away.  "I don't mind you looking," she purred at him.  "In fact, I can think of a much more enjoyable contest for the two of us to have."  Her next bite was slow and sensual.

            He threw his head back, neighing a laugh.  "That's one 'duel' I'd definitely lose, but by all that dwells beyond I'd enjoy it."  He met her gaze, still chuckling. "If it's all the same, I'd prefer a contest I have a prayer of winning.  Perhaps later."

            "Perhaps."  Zalika slowly licked her lips and continued eating, making sure she got every last iota of the ambrosia's manna.  "So how close is this to where you grew up?"

            "I didn't have what you call a set home; for the most part I traveled with the Faire of Sun and Moon."  His face got a faraway look.  "It’s the only places on Avalon where a Light can do business with a Dark and vice versa without worrying about a knife in the back.  Mothers let me hang around the tents and make a general nuisance of myself until I was old enough to develop an act of my own."  He sighed mournfully.  "It was a good life.  Pity my wyrd lay elsewhere." 

            Mothers? "I prefer to make my own destiny," Zalika told him, finishing her treat.  She sucked the juice slowly from her fingers, running her tongue around each digit, making sure he watched.  Much to her disappointment, the unicorn didn't seem inclined to take her up on her suggestion.  Oh well; there's always after the contest.   She briefly eyed the ambrosia core, wondering if there was some way to preserve it for the trip home. 

            Phaeron caught her gaze and took a white cloth from his pants pocket.  "Here," he said, handing it to her.  "Wrap it in this.  When you get the core home, plant it in a large tub of soil purified by the four corners of the earth and use Essential Water as plant food.  Within the year,  it'll bear fruit.  Just don't use any magical fertilization spells and it'll be fine."

            "Thank you," she told him sincerely.  The planting instructions would cost a good deal, but an ambrosia tree would more than pay for that with its first harvested crop.

            He gave her a devilish smirk.  "Just protecting my investment."

            Zalika smiled back at him, placing the wrapped core and Yolanda's arm by the foot of the tree.  "Someone sounds overconfident," she noted, stepping away from it.

            "Self-assurance is often mistaken as such."

            "Any rules?" Zalika had been studying his defenses the whole time, and she was sure she had a good open move

            Phaeron shrugged.  "If you make a move that would result in the death of your opponent, you must be prepared to pay for a resurrection or do it yourself; this stipulation can be verbally waived only by both parties at once.  That's it."

            She wasted no time in lunging for his throat.  His defenses for Transformation magic aren't great, she thought.  He doesn't even have any major defense up at the moment, although he's holding a good deal of manna ready for instant use.  Perhaps...she smiled as her fingers plunged into his throat, ripping out his vocal chords.  A sizzle immediately warned her and she pulled her arm off at the elbow.  She watched as the blood dissolved it completely.  "Nice trick."

            The wound in Phaeron's throat closed like water.  "When infused with the energies of Essential Fire, any liquid can be turned into a magical acid." He smiled. "First round to me."

THERE

            Everything happened at once.  Forethought barreled into George just as a weapon popped out of the wall near the bulldog and spat out a reddish beam, barbecuing the spot where he'd been.  Cymbeline cried out but was immobilized as another weapon with a large mouth popped out near the first and spat whitish goo at her.  Super Collie was a blur as she dashed over to it.  Metallic tentacles snaked out of the floor and grabbed Raquel.  "What the...?"

            "First we're talking about our minds being played with, now this happens?"  Super Collie swung her staff hard at the blaster's muzzle, crushing it.  "It can't be coincidence!"

            Her bonds were beginning to constrict; Raquel solved her dilemma the easy way by walking forward, tearing the tentacles loose.  "We need to get up to the control room and shut it down!"

            "There's a hardware shutdown switch under the main panel," Forethought barked, taking a small glowing wand out from under his robes.  "The same unit exists on the other side of this room.  We need to go for both to be sure."  The ram examined George briefly.  "If he doesn't get out of here, he's dead.  That is a fact."

            Cymbeline screamed and burst into flame; bits of burning goo went everywhere.  "Forethought! If your games hurt him in any way..."

            "Cymbeline!  Now is not the time!"  Super Collie was already at the second weapon.  Her staff thrust out again, leaving another mechanical ruin.  "How can I get George to the control room?" 

            "Now see here," George started to say.

            Out of the corner of one pair of eyes, Raquel saw a section of wall slide open.  "George, I like you a lot, but this is not the time to be noble!"  A giant robot, of all things, clanked out; its right arm was some sort of weapon with a muzzle bigger than either of her heads.

            "We can all..." Super Collie began.

            Forethought shook his head. "No we can’t.  Even this close, if we all run for the elevator, the room will pull out all the stops to get us.  Plus once it senses someone's gone through those doors it'll immediately close them -- at a force of five hundred pounds PSI."

            George growled and stood up.  "Maybe I can do something to who or whatever is making a mess of the computer upstairs."

            The one thing no one wanted to think about was now in the open.  Each could see it in the other's eyes; who, or most likely what, was doing all this?  "You'll rip it a new one," Raquel assured him.  She had an idea, and hoped everyone caught on -- she couldn't risk saying it aloud for fear the room would hear.  "On three!"  She jumped right in front of the robot.  "Hey there, tall gray and clanky, betcha can't hit me!"

            Forethought was pointing his wand at the closed elevator door.  Esmerelda grabbed George as Cymbeline looked on nervously.  "Will Raquel be okay going up against that thing?"

            He glanced at the tigress' back.  "It'll take a lot more than that, believe me," he snorted.

            The ram turned away but not before the collie got a good look at the staring whites around his eyes and rod-straight ears.  Fear.  He's afraid of Raquel? She couldn't believe it.  The man who'd been ice-calm after she'd picked up like a sack of dirty linens and threatened bodily harm to -- and meant it  -- was scared of someone who hadn't even given him a cross word.  "Good."  She leaned closer, teeth bared.  "We are going to talk later, and you are not going to get out of it."

            "I won't be able to run far with an IV in my arm," he grinned.  Before Esmerelda could ask what he meant, he pointed at the elevator door with the wand.  "As soon as it fires, run full-tilt."

            The robot's muzzle spit out a glowing ball of energy.  Esmerelda grabbed an unresisting  George, slung him over one shoulder and bolted for the door.  A golden beam arced over her head and struck the elevator doors, forcing them open.  Esmerelda leapt for the inside of the elevator, landing on both feet.  She looked over her shoulder to say something to Forethought, but the words died in her throat as a blaster popped up from behind him and shot him in the back.; the wand's glow seemed to protect him, but not much.  "You bastard!"  She yelled.  "That's what you meant!  Don't you dare die on me you..."

            She didn't get the chance to finish as the elevator doors slammed shut like the clang of doom.

#

            Floating above the room, the Neverwas felt at an impasse.  It could either go after the collie and stop whatever she was planning or stay here and try to aid this wonderful room in killing the tigress.  The problem was, as its power grew it could tell less and less of what the collie was doing!  Perhaps it had something to do with the amulet the lioness had given her.

            No matter, it decided.  First it would  go upstairs and take care of the 'safety switch' the ram had been talking about, then come back downstairs and take care of that one too.

#

            Cymbeline had also heard what Forethought had told Esmerelda, but didn't have time to think about it.  Raquel's scream of pain confused her, since she could tell that although the tigress hadn't exactly shrugged the attack off, it hadn't hurt nowhere nearly as much as it sounded.  A whirring sound alerted her and she dived left, avoiding another weapon just as it unloaded on her.  She burned it to cinders with a gesture and heard the loud bang as the elevator door slammed shut.  "Well that's --," Cymbeline began, but stopped as Forethought lay on the floor, a nasty burn-mark across his back.  "Damnit!  Raquel, Forethought's down!"

            The tigress thrust the robot away from her.  It sailed through the air and landed with a loud clang  about fifty yards away.  "Great."  She bolted over to stand over the fallen ram.  "Can you heal him?"

            "I can try."  She put her hands out, willing his wounds to fade away, and the wand flared.  "The stupid wand's got an automatic function," Esmerelda growled.  "When he's unconscious, it puts all its power into protecting him."

            Raquel caught movement out of the corner of one eye.  A much bigger robot was being raised out of the floor; seven feet tall and still going.  "What happens if he needs medical attention?"

            "I don't know," Cymbeline shot back.  "I might be able to breach it, but I need time."

            "More time, coming up."  Raquel grabbed one of the longer pieces of robotic tentacle laying on the floor and ran forward, intent on the giant robot.  Now that the platform had fully raised itself, she could see the thing was twelve feet tall with some sort of heavy machine-gun mounted on each shoulder, a huge circular saw for a left hand and a tentacle as thick around as a tree-trunk for a right arm.  It also was covered with some kind of glowing energy field.  "Let's see what you're made of, ugly," Raquel taunted.  The robot, as if hearing her, spat a hail of bullets from it’s shoulder guns.  Raquel put her arms up over her face and waded through them.  "Gonna have to do better than that!"

            "Don't encourage it!"  Cymbeline snapped.

            As if on cue, a robotic armature stretched out of the wall and replaced one of its shoulder guns with a large cannon.  Raquel gritted her teeth and wove back and forth as she dashed towards the monstrosity.  Its new armament spat out something at high speed; Raquel jumped forward as whatever-it-was careened into the floor, leaving a large crater.  The tigress roared a challenge and lunged forward, but it managed to bring the saw arm swung down at the same time; the shock of the blow  as it  struck her shoulder made her roar with unfeigned pain.

            Cymbeline didn't bother glancing up.  Hold on, Raquel.  Almost there.  She managed to push her fingertips through the field and touch him.  "Why didn't you take more steps to protect yourself is what I want to know," she griped aloud as she let the small trickle of healing energy into him that the defensive spell allowed.  His eyelids fluttered and opened.  "Don't move," she cautioned.  "Your back is badly burned and the muscles torn.  Just drop the field so I can heal you fully."

            "...get away..." Forethought gasped, managing to glare at her.

            Cymbeline's jaw dropped; he actually looked annoyed.  She got ready to tell him just what he could do with his attitude.

            A tiny noise made her throw up her force field at the last second.  It probably saved her life, since whatever hit her did so with enough force to send her sprawling.  She didn't have time to react as small robotic tentacles shot up from the floor and caught her in midair, wrapping around her arms and legs, snaking about her clothes...Cymbeline roared in indignation and immolated as hot as she could, burning her bonds to ash.  Managing to land with some semblance of dignity, she risked a glance at the tigress; Raquel had, through blind luck, managed to use her tentacle as a whip and snagged the robots saw-arm.  She then grabbing at the robot's own tentacle arm; Cymbeline smiled as the tigress' fingers sank into the metal like it was taffy and ripped it out of its socket.  Good girl, she thought with approval. Unconsciously, her hand dipped down to her neckline where George's ring hung from its necklace to feel it.

            It wasn't there.  

            She glanced downward, expression almost puzzled, at where it should be.

            She glanced at the charred patch of floor where the remains of her trap still smoked and bubbled.

            Cymbeline threw her head back in a roar fit to put the end of the world to shame.  "You sonovabitch!"  She screamed, calling forth the full power of Sekhmet.  "You think I can't do anything about that because you're this huge mechanized room?  Well, think again!"

#

            Esmerelda darted out of the elevator with George hot on her heels.  She would have preferred him to wait inside while she checked the room for hostiles but didn't know if the doors on this end had the same booby trap and didn't want to find out the hard way.  "You look for that blasted switch."  Her eyes darted this way and that.  "I'll watch your back."

            "Right."  The bulldog immediately started checking the room's console.  "Think whatever caused the malfunction is gone?"

            "Let's hope so."  Personally, Esmerelda doubted it.  Just because I can't see it doesn't mean it's not there.  The heavy, oppressive feeling of something wrong -- something she was missing -- sat in her gut like week-old Alpo casserole.

            *They come!!  Please, someone hear, someone understand...the Neverwas are breaking loose!*

            "The who?"  Her head jerked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the rich, musical female voice tinged with fear.

            "Sorry, that was just me swearing," George replied dryly.  His search had taken him away from the console to the opposite wall.  "One would think these Yanks designers smart enough not to make an emergency shutdown switch so hard to find."

            Esmerelda grunted absently  I heard a voice, I know I did -- but not with my ears.  *Hello?*

            *Praises be!*  the unknown woman thought back.  *I am heard!*           

            *Who are you? Are you in trouble?*

            *Forgive me, but I have little time.  Have you been feeling out of sorts, like things are not as they should be?*

            Esmerelda's hands clenched around her staff.  *Yes.*

            "Found it," George enthused aloud.

            Esmerelda held up a hand.  *It's a creature of some sort, isn't it? How can I fight what I can't see?*

            *You cannot see something that never had a shape -- at least with your eyes.  You must see it with your heart.*

            "Super!"

            Esmerelda blinked.  George was down on one knee, a panel in the wall pried open.  "Are you okay?"  His brow was crinkled with concern.

            "I'm being contacted by someone...a friend I think," she told him.

            *Thank you*  The voice was rich with humor.  *Although considering the company you keep, namely a certain jackal fem, perhaps I should be concerned.  I'd threaten to spank her but she would enjoy it far too much.*

            "Zalika?" Esmerelda blurted aloud.

            *Your soul-sister is well, worry not.  I would say she is staying out of trouble, but you know that is not the way her story is written.  Take heart in the knowledge that this time, she is on the same side you would be if you were here.*

            "What is --" The mental contact winked out.  "Damn!"

            "Did Zalika contact you?"

            "No it wasn't Zalika; someone from Raquel's universe I think."  The collie blinked at her friend.  "What happened to your finger?"

            George scowled as he sucked on it.  "Pinched it getting the damned cover open." 

            The cover of the panel was indeed off, displaying a lever with the words PULL ONLY IN CASE OF AN EMERGENCY next to it.  She resisted the urge to make a joke.  "Grand.  Pull that bugger and we're home free."

            "You hope."  George took hold of the lever firmly and yanked on it.  "What the...?  It wouldn't budge!"

            "Is that a fact," Esmerelda said in a casual tone.  She felt her hands, almost of their own accord, grip her staff so hard they ached.

            See with your heart, the woman had told her.

#

            The Neverwas pulled its hands out from the inside of the switch.  It didn't know how long the sabotage would last, but its options were running out.  It had the power to replace the bulldog in existence, but not with an assurance of victory.  Worse, the collie had completely vanished from its field of perception.

            No choice.  It would have to kill the bulldog, drink what it could of the life-force, and count on the collie's inability to perceive its existence.  Then, maybe with the additional power it would be able to pursue a more useful course of action.

#

            See with your heart, Esmerelda wondered, as George wrenched and tugged at the lever.  Does it have something to do with what I'm feeling? 

            She stared a George for a bit as he struggled, and thought about him. How much he meant to her as a friend.  How much he meant to Cymbeline.

            See with your heart.

            Something seemed to flicker close to the ceiling, a greasy presence like the feel of rotting meat.  Esmerelda stared at it and it disappeared.  Something's here, and if I can't see it I can't stop it! What would such a being do? It had already set of a deathtrap hoping to kill as many of them as possible.  In fact, it had waited for the chance to do so.

            See with your heart.

            She thought about what such a being would like to do to George.  Cymbeline.  Raquel. John.  Or, for that matter, just some poor passerby walking down the street that happened to be in the right place at the right time...

            See with your heart.

            I will not permit this!  In that instant of clarity, Esmerelda felt a click, not in her head, but deep inside her solar plexus.  She sensed upwards with whatever had birthed in her being for the enemy, and found it.

            Tatters of what looked to be cloth but were something much worse -- the remnants of shattered desires and stillborn dreams.  Greedy hands tipped with jagged claws, always reaching for that last bit of hope to harvest.  And a face alight with the joy and desire to do such reaping, and to keep on doing it for as long as it could.  Its only regret; that more of its fellows could not aid it.  It dipped downwards to George, fingers outstretched...

            Esmerelda's ears plastered themselves along her skull as a howl of hate tore itself out of her throat.  Zalika, when she maimed John, was a shining angel compared to this monstrosity.  "Thing that never was!"  She spat, lunging forward  "You'll end your rot-soaked existence here!"  The creature didn't even have time to jerk as she thrust her staff like a spear into its quivering form.

#

            The collie suddenly snapped into focus at the same time her staff punched through its body; it shrieked in agony.  The collie was not a Storyteller, but something  just as deadly to Neverwas kind -- something that could sense their presence and the opening of the Gate.  With its dying breath it cast about for some way to turn the situation to its advantage...

#

            Cymbeline glared a the smoldering pile of melted steel and an idea came to her.  Let's see how this deathtrap handles a being of pure fire, she thought, baring her teeth in a vicious grin.  Quickly she chanted the spell.  Nothing too nasty, of course.  Perhaps an Efreet.

#

            Yes!  It felt, from downstairs, the lioness cast a  summoning spell!  It put every ounce of power and life it had left into twisting it, forcing the spell to call forth something she couldn't handle.  "You are lost," it managed to rasp out, before ending.

            It had sensed the being that was being summoned.  They had no possibility of survival.

#

            "What the Hell was that??"  George gaped as the thing flopped to the carpet, a dark sticky fluid oozing from it.

            Esmerelda wanted to tear its body to pieces.  She'd never hated anything like this...this... Neverwas.  She didn't know where she came up with the name but it seemed to fit.  "Not Hell," Esmerelda snarled.  "This was worse than any demon.  Much worse."  Its last words still rang in its ears.  "And I think the people downstairs are in trouble."

            The bulldog squared its shoulders.  "What do you want me to do?"

            "Fiddle around with that lever a bit."  She turned to the console.  "I'm going to see if I can cure the computer's identity crisis."

#

            I don't have time to fool with this thing anymore, Raquel growled to herself.  With its saw-arm trapped, the robot was a lot less mobile so she wound up and hit it with every thing she could muster.  The resultant explosion hurled her across the room as her fist punched through the robot's force field, its spent-uranium armor coating and more importantly its internal power plant. She landed hard on the floor; the explosion had sprayed metallic shrapnel with such force she had surface cuts in a dozen places.  On top of this, her fist was numb and both sets of ears rang.  Not to mention the spots in front of her left pair of eyes.  Note to self -- next time throw the robot.  She glanced back with her right head while her left sucked her singed paw.  Cymbeline stood near the fallen Forethought, feet planted firmly and chanting.  Raquel immediately ran over.  "What's up?"

            "Get away," Cymbeline snared through gritted teeth.

            Raquel quickly spotted the muscles in Cymbeline's neck standing out like cords.  Her shoulders were squared off and her jaw was set hard enough to hear her teeth grind.  Something's really wrong.  She looked about with both heads -- the vision of her left head had cleared -- but didn't see anything.  Room seems to be quiet. 

            What's that? A flickering in the air, like the shimmer of heat above hot tar, appeared behind Cymbeline.  Her eyes clenched, her chanting grew louder and the ripple grew bigger.  "Um, what's going on?"

            "Something bad.  Something very bad."  Tears started to leak down her cheeks.

            Raquel glanced back at the heat ripple, now bigger than Cymbeline, and the fur rose on her back. "How do we stop it?"

            "We don't." Her voice was as soft as murdered hope.  "I delay it long enough for you to get Forethought out of here.  I'm sure he can come up with a plan to stop it."

            "Yeah, while you and Super die?  Not a chance," Raquel snarled.  "Or do you think she'll leave you behind?  I know George won't!"

            "No!'  The heat ripple shrank just a bit.  "Raquel, you have to get him and Super Collie out of here!"

            Oh ho.  "George is crazy over you; he wouldn't leave and I'm not about to force him."

            "I can't stop it from coming." Cymbeline whimpered.  "It's too strong.  I couldn't even stop George's ring from being destroyed.  My first time as a heroine I was maimed. What can I do about this?"

            "Plenty." Raquel glanced down at Cymbeline's bosom with one pair of eyes, noting the absence of her necklace with George's ring.  "If you think for one minute losing George's ring means he doesn't love you any more, you're a fool."  Cymbeline's eyes narrowed and the shimmer shrank a little more.  "You want to prove you love him? Fight."

            The ripple grew slightly.  "But..."   

            Any time this room's gonna remember us and cut loose!  She wondered what lay beyond the heat ripple.  "I don't care how many victories it's claimed; it hasn't claimed one here."  She glared over Cymbeline's shoulder at the heat ripple.  "You hear her?  Well, maybe you'll hear this; get lost!"

            For just an instant, Raquel could almost make out a shape.  It was big, covered in heavy scales, big, had a mouthful of sharp teeth, big, possessed claws like razors and was, above all else, big.  In that instant, she felt something regard her, considering...

            The ripple winked out of existence.  "Yes!"  Raquel picked Cymbeline up, hugged her and spun her around.  "You did it! I knew you could!"

            Cymbeline gaped at her.  "Impossible."

            "Is not.  I just saw it."  She felt suddenly giddy and lightheaded, like she'd been too long without sleep.  "Whoof; I'm glad that over with; I'm coming off my adrenaline high."

            "That was some high."  Cymbeline has a dazed expression.

            "You bet."  Raquel double-yawned.  "God, I'm tired all of a sudden."

            "Raquel?"  A flicker of worry drifted over the lioness' face.  Worry...and fear?

            "What's wrong?" Raquel said, or at least tried to say.  Her jaws felt so wired with fatigue only a half-inarticulate mumble came out. She would have said something else, but right at that moment a nap sounded like the best idea she'd had all year.

            She was out cold before she hit the floor.

HERE

            Zalika didn't respond.  If Phaeron wants to waste energy trying to taunt me, I'll let him.  She smiled inwardly.  I'll show him how to really waste energy.   She blended an Illusion spell together with a Summoning and cast it. A ring of twelve Zalikas suddenly appeared on the grassy field, surrounding her opponent in a ring.  Any spell caster with even a modicum of skill in Illusion magics would know Mirror Images and be aware that only one of the images was real.  With her variation, an additional image concealed an Earth Elemental.

            "Oldest trick in the book," Phaeron snorted.  "Surely you can do better than that."  He thrust an open palm upward.  Dark clouds blotted out the sun; thunder shook the field as each image was met squarely with a large lightning bolt.  Zalika had been ready and reflected the one aimed at her right at the unicorn; it bounced off his personal field of protection.  The elemental was a smoldering ruin, but she hadn't expected it to stand up to him any more than she expected him to be fooled by the mirror images; calling elemental lightning, plus the shield, had drained his reserves sharply.

            Overconfidence will be your downfall, Zalika thought to herself.  She hadn't forgotten about the ambrosia tree to her back, beckoning silently.  I'll bet you're planning to recharge yourself by grabbing a bite of fruit.  Time to spoil your plans -- and grab a piece or two for myself in the process.  Phaeron watched her warily, crouched in a defensive posture.  She lunged forward, calling on the powers of Sekhmet for the most virulent strain of flesh-eating bacteria she could, and enhanced it further with the touch of Anpu.  He dodged out of her way but she teleported behind him at the last instant and struck.  He neighed in agony slammed up an extremely powerful dome of protection around himself.  Good.  I figured the necromantic aspect of it would slow him down.  Another teleport later and she was next to the ambrosia tree.  "It's almost a shame," she said aloud, plucking two juicy-looking pieces of fruit from the tree.  "I really can't have you taking advantage of the local flora.".

            Phaeron glared at her, large pus-filled lesions on his face and exposed neck..  "You'll pay for that," he rasped.

            Zalika gave him her sweetest smile, pointed to the ambrosia tree, and obliterated it with the fire of Sekhmet.  Immediately a monster of a spell leapt out of the remains and latched on to her like her shields weren't even there.  The pressure of the apples in her hand vanished and it didn't take a genius to figure out where they'd gone.  I can worry about that later.  She quickly built up some energy to get rid of the spell on her and it fed off the buildup, growing stronger as it did.  She immediately stopped and called upon the power of Anpu and an impenetrable field of darkness shrouded her from any outward perception.

            Phaeron sighed dramatically.  "I warned you," he chuckled.  The lesions disappeared from his face.  "What you're currently suffering under is some of my best work.  It drains the manna from you continually until it's sated, and part of that manna goes to keep itself going."  He smiled.  "Round two was definitely yours, but I think you're beginning to grasp the idea it was supposed to be."

            Zalika let him pontificate, as she needed time to analyze the spell on her.  Despite herself, she was impressed.  It must be a personal creation; the spell is too complex for a mere amateur.  The spell had latched tendrils into her manna reserves, actually melding with it.  A brief after-tang of lightning-magic caressed her senses.  So that's why he went through so much manna in so little time, she cursed.  He used that spell to cover casting this one.  A daring gamble for an adherent of Order.  The only way to get rid of it, other than to let it run its course, would be to 'amputate' a huge portion of manna which would barely leave enough to keep her going.  She couldn't reflect it back on him, either -- the tendrils would reel it right back.

            Phaeron peered at the darkness field.  "You know, the longer you wait, the more chances I have to recuperate." He drew out a piece of ambrosia from his robes, like a conjurer producing a knife.  "Really, I thought you were so much smarter than that." He sniffed it elaborately.

            His tone was so insulting that Zalika felt the flames of Sekhmet boil behind her eyes.  With effort, she resisted going after him right then.  That's just what he wants, she fumed.  Any spell I cast will be weakened; this spell will take a portion of energy from it.  As it stood now, Zalika had three options: find a way to defeat him quickly, fight to the bitter end -- and most likely lose considering her current handicap, or surrender.  The second option struck her as an exercise in stupidity and as for the third, she didn't do surrender.

            "Looks like I'll have to step up the ante a bit," Phaeron shrugged, apparently becoming bored with trying to find her out.  "I know some magic from the time of the Pharaohs; I believe a spell calling upon the powers of Ra, Anpu and Asar should do the trick." He smiled.  "My languages from that time period are a little rusty so the results might be a little...unique."

            Zalika only kept one ear open as he began to chant.  She didn't know if he was bluffing and couldn't take the chance; she had to make a move.  Come on you stupid jackal, she fumed at herself, think! If Xendaen found a way to hobble him, so can you!  Suddenly, as if mentioning the Dark Minstrel somehow called on her spirit, an idea occurred to her.  It was risky and would take a good portion of her power by thanks to her unwanted parasite, but it had an excellent chance of succeeding as well.  She maintained the darkness field and quickly and cast two spells simul-taneously; one to make it appear as if she was teleporting in front of the wily unicorn and the other to actually teleport behind him.  She put more energy than normal into it, hoping the parasite would go after the excess and leave the core spells alone. The scene in front of her eyes immediately changed to a view of Phaeron's rear, but he was already whirling around to face her.  She'd known he wouldn't have been fooled long, but he was at a slight disadvantage now.  Lashing out, she smacked her palm onto his forehead and put most of her remaining energy into the only type of spell that had a chance of slipping past his formidable defenses: Memory Recall.

            "Show me your worst memory of Xendaen," Zalika commanded, denying herself a smile as the spell struck home.

            The unicorn's eyes widened...

1000 AD

The Third Spire

            The smell of charred flesh, fit to sour the stomach of the most jaded torturer filled his nostrils, but he didn't notice.  Bodies littered the white marble floor of the Spire's inner chamber but he didn't see them.  An impossible victory would be credited to him this day, the defeat of the most powerful Gifted ever to walk the face of Earth or Avalon, but he didn't care.  He could still ensure something useful happened today.  Phaeron pressed his hand to Xendaen's chest and the puncture would that went straight through her heart.  It wouldn't take much in the way of healing to fix.

            She pushed his hand away.  Amazingly enough, she was still conscious.  "No."

            "Please," he begged.  "Hasn't there been enough pointless death?"

            "Yes," Xendaen agreed.  "Which is why my song needs to end here."  She raised a trembling hand to his gore-soaked horn.  "I never expected you to do that.  I can see where the legends of the Midnight Unicorn came from." She coughed, a wet-sounding thing.  He tried to place his hand over the would again and she glared at him.  "I said no."

            "Why? Can you at least tell me that?"

            "Because I'm not the one."  She sighed.  "I tried to twist things so I could be the one and not damn an innocent, but the power involved was just too great.  In the end, all I could do was pave the way."  She managed that melodious laugh of hers which could brighten even a room such as this.  "All hail the Dark Minstrel indeed."

            He stroked her head quills as he knelt on the floor.  "I have absolutely no idea what you just said, so you can explain what you mean from your recovery-bed."

            Xendaen raised herself up angrily, or tried to.  "Don't be a fool, Phaeron.  Do you think all the good will you've built up being the Lord of White would last if you succor me?  I've garnered too much hatred, too many vendettas.  Your precious Out-Towns will pay the price."

            "You let me worry about them.  As for me, I've never backed down from a challenge," he told her.  Other furs would have never let the tears flow down their cheeks; Phaeron spurned such stonehearted monsters.  Some things were meant to be wept over.  "Let me help you, Xendaen.  Please."

            "You can't even help yourself," she murmured, stoking his cheek.  The purple clouds had already faded from her dimming green eyes.  "How many centuries must you punish yourself for Persephone?"

            Her arm dropped limply to the floor.

#

            Zalika stood above Phaeron as he crouched, his eyes glazed over, and watched the memory unfold.  How very interesting.  He sees his victory over Xendaen as a defeat -- as well he should.  Perhaps there's hope for you yet, 'Lord'.  His eyes cleared, blinked and quickly looked up at her.  "You'll find your ability to channel manna blocked," she told him.  "Surrender, tell me how to undo your spell and I won't end the duel by taking your life."

            He bowed.  "I concede," he told her gravely.  "You'll get that spell off of you by asking it politely."

            The jackal believed him, simply because it was something no one would ever think of.  Would you please go away? Zalika thought to it.  It dissipated immediately and she released her hold on Phaeron's powers; keeping a spell-caster of Phaeron's power-level cut off from manna was draining and she didn't have much left to spare.  Aloud, "I'd like that other piece of ambrosia if you don't have any use for it."

            "You don't want it," he told her.  "I spun a nasty little booby-trap on the thing while you were in your darkness field."

            She had considered the ambrosia as a possible target, albeit briefly.  "It's what I would have done, I suppose." 

            He held out a hand.  "If you'd like, I have some distilled ambrosia nectar I've been saving for a special occasion at my dwellings in Avalon."

            Zalika looked him up and down pointedly.  "Trying for best two out of three?" She smiled.

            "Not unless I can bring my wife in for an assist," he told her, returning the grin.  "Pity she's away.  Hopefully she'll be back in time for you to meet her."

            She finally took his outstretched hand.  "I'd like that." I wonder what his wife is like..and if she's haunted by the ghost of this 'Persephone’.

            The two vanished from the field, leaving only the remnants of their battle behind.

#

            Across the street from Raquel's apartment, a beat-up car sat as its driver worried.  He glanced at his watch, back to the door, and back to his watch again.  "Eight forty-five," Kyle muttered to himself.  "Not good."  Kayleigh would have called him unless there was a very, very good reason.  He knew he shouldn't be here alone.  The technical definition for a cop who walked into a dangerous situation alone was 'idiot' and perhaps even 'corpse'.  Yet Kayleigh had walked into a dangerous situation alone two years ago with a locked door as her own backup and then again to save Vicki -- because no one would have believed the truth.  Could he do any less for the fem he secretly loved?  The black panther shook his head as he took a thin bundled package out of his glove box.  Man, my brothers would be laughing their asses off if they knew.  He unwrapped the bundle to reveal the little treasures lying within, last remnants of a misspent childhood.  Here I go and fall for a fem who doesn't look twice at guys.  But hey, what's there not to love?  She's smart and gutsy and a looker.  Lest I think she is. 

            Once again eyeing the front door of Raquel's apartment building, he carefully selected two slim lock-picks before re-bundling the package and putting it back in his glove compartment.  Slipping them in the hidden pocket sewed into the inside of his jacket sleeve, he made his casual way to the front door.  Once there, he took a casual look around.  Street's a little crowded for a Saturday morning.  Someone might see me pick the lock.  He stared at it.  For all the thirty seconds it would take.  Maybe I should ring the doorbell first, he mused.  I'm gonna look like an idiot if she just overslept.

#

            Nice, quiet, peaceful, dark....

            *BUUUUUUZZZZZZ*

            Kayleigh would have jumped out of bed, bashed her shin on the endtable and cursed a lot except her right side wasn't cooperating.  She did manage a rather undignified plop onto the floor.  For a split second she couldn't remember why her right side felt like the king of all goose bumps was dancing on it; then an indignant squawk went off right next to her ear.  "Hey!"

            Oh.  The memories of last evening came crashing home.  It was that kind of party.  "Sorry.  Loud noises make me jumpy."

            "And sudden movements make me spiky!"  Cyndi squeaked.  "It's a good thing we weren't wearing anything to bed – cutting my way out of clothing is not my idea of a good time!"

            Being in the same room with a naked Cyndi unfortunately was Kayleigh's idea of a good time even if she was sharing a body with her.  "I'm not used of waking up attached to someone." Although I guess I'd better get used of it.  "Could that be Zalika?"

            "She would have just crawled into bed with us," Cyndi told her.  "It can't be Raquel either; she's got a key."

            "Then who...oh I am such a fucking idiot!"  Kayleigh smacked herself in the forehead.  Hard.  "Kyle!"

            The two of them scrambled to stand up and actually pulled it off, despite a total lack of coordination.  "Um, it's after 8:30," Cyndi told her with a weak smile, glancing at her clock.

            "Wonderful. If we don't answer, Kyle will assume I'm in trouble and round up help.  We've got to talk to him."

            "Like this??"  Cyndi glanced down at their naked body, her quills still at half-mast.

            "Would you rather have the Providence Police Department breaking down your door?"

            *BUUUUUUZZZZZZ*

            "Shit!"  Both screamed in unison and tried to go off in different directions; they wound up falling on the floor.  "I've got a robe in the closet," Cyndi squeaked as they struggled back up.  "Let's get it on."
            "And then what, greet him at the door?"  Kayleigh allowed herself to be dragged along to the aforementioned disaster area.
            "I'm working on it!  Maybe I can sing some sort of illusion."  The garment in question, as the light of day revealed it, would have been short even on Cyndi; with their joined bodies at Kayleigh's height, moving at even medium speeds would give any onlooker a free show.

            Kayleigh stared at it and then back at Cyndi.  "This isn't going to work."

            "You got a better idea?"

            "No."

            "Well then..."

            The two of them hurriedly slipped on the scant garment.  Kayleigh marveled that when they weren't thinking about it, they could move very quickly without slip-ups.  Fear always did wonders for motivation.  "I wish this was a secure building," Kayleigh complained.

            "With the landlord living in Florida, we should count ourselves lucky everything works," Cyndi returned.  She tugged at the robe's opening, looking down at the exposed cleavage.  "Wow. I have real breasts!"

            "Focus," Kayleigh chided as they walked into the parlor.  "You sure you should be singing spells?"

            "No, but...oh heck!  I can't!"

            "What?"

            "I'll be monopolizing our air flow!  You need to talk to Kyle, right?"

            Kayleigh wanted to howl in frustration; this whole debacle was turning into a train wreck.  "Okay, got any other ideas?"  Did she just hear someone inside the hallway? Couldn't be, Kyle didn't have a key.  Her mind was playing tricks.

            "We could hide in my room and call him on the phone," Cyndi suggested.  "Pretend you overslept."

            Kayleigh turned her head right and licked the porcupine's cheek.  "You're a genius!"

            "Hey," the other fem protested as the husky spun their body around.  "I was mostly kidding!"

            "I wasn't," Kayleigh said seriously.  "Look, I do think we should bring him in on everything that's been going on -- if for no other reason than he's a way to get to me and is therefore in danger.  But not now, please?  I've got enough stuff to worry about at the moment."

            Cyndi sighed and let herself be dragged back to the bed.  "You're not just saying that, are you?"

            "I promise."  She picked up the phone and dialed Kyle's number.  "Hi, Kyle? It's me, the village idiot.  I just want you to know I'm fine and I'm sorry I overslept.  Call me."  She hung the phone up.  "I'll wait until Raquel gets back from wherever she is and then we can all talk to him."

            "Sounds great."

            The two joined fems sat down on Cyndi's bed and waited.  Unconsciously, the porcupine crossed her leg over Kayleigh's own.  Kayleigh tried to ignore how strange yet good it felt, having a leg that was both hers and belonging to someone else rubbing against her own so closely.  She idly wondered if Cyndi could be talked into masturbating -- or would it be considered sex? -- like this.  Heel, cur, she ordered herself.  Thou shall not screw thy lover's roommate.  Even if you're sharing genitals.    To take her mind off it, she concentrated on listening for another doorbell.

            It didn't come.

            After a few minutes, they both relaxed.  "I think he's gone," Cyndi whispered.

            Kayleigh nodded.  "So do I," she whispered back.  "And I could really use a shower."  Her friend smiled and the two stood up and headed for the bathroom.

            And walked right into someone turning the corner.

            Kayleigh screeched and threw a punch, except Cyndi was on the side of the intruder and thrust their body in the opposite direction.  They spun like a top and crashed to the floor.  Damn, damn damn, Kayleigh cursed.  This is it!  She called The Gun into her hand, hoping to get a shot off.

            "What the fuck??"

            She recognized the voice immediately. "Kyle!"

            "So much for going home," Cyndi noted in a faint voice.  Her side of their body, in full quill-flare mode, felt like the great-grandmother of all static shock had inflicted it

            "How did you get in here?" Kayleigh demanded, trying to pull herself up into a standing position.  Unfortunately, Cyndi was still shaking from the bad fright.  "Wait, wait...you picked the lock."

            Kyle was gaping at the both of them.  "Uh huh."  His tail looked like a pregnant snake with a case of mange and his eyes bulged.

            "Still got your lock-picks, huh partner?" She tried to keep her tone light.

            "Uh huh."

            "Umm...Kyle?"  She smiled at him nervously.

            "Yeah?"

            "We gotta talk."

            "Ya think??"

AVALON

LATER

            Zalika could get used to Phaeron's bedroom.  Natural-wood paneled walls, a thick carpet the color of grass and a round bed big enough for six.  The sheets alone, gossamer-smooth to the touch, were enough of a reason to come back.

            Phaeron turned over and cuddled next to her in his sleep.  She gave him a kiss on the muzzle.  "Rest easy; you've earned it," she told him.  The unicorn had been a surprisingly skilled lover, perfectly willing to let the act be a sharing experience.  Realizing her need to recharge, he'd given up a large amount of his stored reserves; he'd be out for some time.  A shame really.  Zalika still had a number of questions to ask him.  Especially about the room's one painting.

            It had been hung on the wall opposite the bed, so anyone laying on it would get a good look.  Ten feet long by eight feet wide, the oil-and-canvas was framed by a reddish wood and done in realistic style.  The figure in it was that of a lovely female Unicorn, lying on her back on honeysuckle sheets.  Her head was turned to her right and upward, mouth parted open as if to draw a carnal breath.  Her horn was a rich golden color like Phaeron's, but her coat was pearl-white and her mane a charcoal-gray, as was the tuft of her tail.  She was clothed in a robe the same color as the sheets she lay on and from off-frame an arm extended on either side.  Each hand rested in the middle of the collarbone; one was clearly Phaeron's arm and the other was covered with a whitish fur that had interesting flame-orange highlights and naturally black nails.  A woman's arm, to be sure.  The whole picture fairly exuded love and tenderness, but of a bittersweet flavor.  The way her eyes stared, the dryness of the teeth and gums all spoke to Zalika, and if she was any judge the Unicorn woman central to the piece was a corpse at the time it was painted.  As a further clue, on the bottom of the picture a brass plaque read PERSEPHONE -- TWICE-LOVED.

            So this is her, Zalika thought.  The one Phaeron doesn't stop punishing himself for.  Why wasn't she raised from the dead?  She refused to believe Phaeron couldn't afford a resurrection spell.  And who is the woman on the other side?  His wife?

            Zalika felt someone outside the bedroom door.  On the surface she appeared relaxed, lounging with her remaining hand on Phaeron's chest, but mystically she was ready for whatever walked through.  Not that she thought it was a danger to Phaeron, but then again this was his house and she was a 'guest' -- although how much of one remained to be seen.  When the figure came through the door carrying a tray of edibles, she relaxed.  The bearer did not look like any servant.  She -- the shape in the dress was definitely female -- wore a light brown traveler's dress of simple design.  The woman was definitely equine in shape but lacked Phaeron's horn.  Her mane was a lustrous flame-orange, and her white pelt had flame-orange highlights.  Zalika compared one of the woman’s arms to that of the picture.  And here is the third corner of the menage-a-trois.  The woman smiled and brought the tray down to the bed.  Zalika smiled back.  "Hello there."

            "Greetings to you as well." The equine had a warm, friendly voice; her eyes, the color of good rubies, twinkled.  "You haven't been working my husband too hard, have you?" That with a giggle.

            "Moderately so, I'm afraid," Zalika purred, sitting up.  "We missed you."

            "Temptress."  Her smile faded upon seeing the jackal's abbreviated arm.  "What happened?"

            "Nothing serious."  The other woman didn't seem distressed by Zalika's nudity so the jackal let the cover fall off of her body as she climbed out of bed.  "It's not something he can fix; healing magic hurts me."

            "Ah," the other woman nodded, understanding.  "Well the least he could have done is let you use one of his."

            "I have a spare," Zalika told her, lifting her whole arm up.  Yolanda's arm came winging its way to her grasp.

            "I'm glad."  The mare set the tray down next to the bed and straightened.  "I am Synne," she announced with a curtsey, "mind-healer, Truthfinder and Dreamspinner; wife to Phaeron the Lord of White.  I bid you greetings to my house and entreat you to be as a welcome guest."

            Zalika fought not to have an eyebrow go up as the guardian-wards she sensed around the house incorporated her into their list of 'friendlies'.  "Call me Zalika." 

            "A pleasure," the other woman said with another curtsey.  "You can borrow mine if you'd care not to use up your spare."

            That did make Zalika raise an eyebrow.  Phaeron may be able to regenerate her arm, but even so she has to know that would give me an edge to any mind-spells I throw at her.  At least until she cleansed her aura from it.  "I thank you, but this one is quite serviceable."  She touched the stump of her arm to Yolanda's and fused the two, wiggling the fingers to test the connections.   "See?"  Already, the hand was shaping itself to match her other one.

            "Now that's what I call a party trick," Synne approved.  "Would you like something to eat? We've got some meat in the larder if the vegetables on the tray aren't to your liking."

            "I'm fine, thank you.  What I would really like, however, is a bath."

            Synne linked her arm with Zalika's freshly-restored one.  "Follow me."

            The jackal, still nude, let herself be led, since being in such close proximity to the other woman gave her lots of opportunities to look her over mystically. She has a strong will and some extremely potent defenses against dream-related magic. There were other things, but they didn't feel exactly like spell ability; more like natural magic.  "May I ask what race you are?"

            "Nighthorse," she said,  "which makes me a Nightmare.  My race and the unicorns have been at best uneasy with each other for dozens of centuries. "

            "That must spice things up in the bedroom."

            Synne led Zalika out of Phaeron's bedchamber and across the hall.  "You have absolutely no idea,"  she giggled, opening the door.

            I bet I do, Zalika purred.  She approved of the bathroom she saw before her.  A cast-iron tub big enough for four dominated the left side, and a similarly-sized shower stretched across the other end.  On the right was a wooden cabinet with rows upon rows of various bathing implements as well as a rack of sinfully fluffy towels.  Stuffed in the far corner was a closed-off area that could be an indoor toilet of some sort.  "You have modern plumbing?"

            "If you mean technology, not quite."  Synne went over to the tub and started to draw a bath as if she was  a common servant.  "Technology can be finicky in Avalon.  It’s dwarven brass-works; the hedgehogs may be touchy but they do great work"

            More confusing terminology -- Zalika hated being left in the dark.  Let's see how open she really is.  "May I ask you some questions?"

            "Certainly," The nightmare dipped a finger into the tub, testing the water.

            "I've heard Phaeron referred to as being born of two mothers.  What exactly does that mean?"

            "Bath's ready.”  Synne turned the faucets off and stood up.  “I could tell you, but the showing is much better.  I'll be back with a full-color statuette he had made several centuries ago."  She skewered her with a finger.  "Don't go anywhere; I certainly don't mind you wandering around unclad but the servants would trip over things."

            Zalika smiled and watched her go, eyeing the other woman's lovely behind.  I hope she's as adventurous as she looks.  She tested the water with a toe.  More importantly I hope she's as open as she looks; I need answers.  Phaeron seemed like a reasonable stallion; maybe she could get him to realize he was trying to stop the tide.  With the advance of technology, sooner or later someone was bound to discover magic, and not all the covering-up would keep the secret.  With Raquel, that time may be sooner than he thought, too.

            By the time Synne came back, Zalika had selected some bubble bath, a lovely-smelling soap and scrubbing implements.  The mare was carrying a small statuette.  "The answer to your first question," she smiled, kneeling down and resting it on the tub.  Done in porcelain, it was indeed colored exquisitely; a figure depicting a two-headed conjoinment involving a female unicorn and -- considering the flame-tinted white mane and the black hooves -- possibly a nightmare.  On the right side their pelt was a charcoal black and in the left the color of cream.  The unicorn's horn was a silvery-white and she bore a demure expression while the nightmare gave a saucy wink to the viewer.  The figure was clothed in a dark-green dress that hung off the shoulders; from the lines it had three breasts in a row instead of two.  As a final touch, each had her own tail -- lion-tuffed for the unicorn and horse-like for the nightmare.  "Exquisite work," Zalika murmured.

            Synne beamed.  "May I present Eritrea the Unicorn and Beleth the nightmare.  Called the Twilight Mares, they run the Faire of Sun and Moon where all races gather and deal in a variety of goods and services without fear of strife.  If you'd like, I can present you with a sculpture of the father.

            "That won't be necessary.  Phaeron must of had quite the interesting childhood."

            "We weren't the easiest children to raise; both of us drove Mothers crazy different ways; I was the quiet one who always stuck her nose in things and Phaeron was unruly."  She eyed the bath longingly.  "Do you mind company?  It's been a terribly long day for me."

            Well, well, well.  Zalika moved to one end of the tub.  "I don't mind at all."

            "Thanks!"  Synne immediately started to disrobe.  "I had a far easier time of it than he did.  Albino nightmares are rare but they do exist.  To date there's been only one Unicorn with a black pelt, and he was one of the greatest philosophers the race has ever produced -- so right away everyone demanded great things of him."

            "How long have you two been married?"

            Synne folded her discarded dress up neatly.  "About 2700 years, give or take.  We were in love for a while before that, but fought our true feelings for the longest time.  Even by Avalon standards, our parentage is unique; at first, we both resented there was no one else who could get past that."

            Zalika raised an eyebrow.  "Really?"

            "Well, almost no one," Synne replied softly, sliding into the bath.  "Mmmmm, much better.  Turn around and I'll wash your back."

            She did so.  "So have you any children?"

            "No."  Synne took the lovely-smelling soap and lathered up Zalika's back.  "I lost the ability to have children soon after we married.  For the longer-lived races, children are so scare that one of their own will always take them in, so we would adopt runaways and abandoned children from the shorter-lived races. The problem is that unicorns and nightmares live so long we would see them grow old and die right before our eyes.  These days, we arrange for the poor waifs to get a good home -- just not with us."  There was real regret in her voice.

            Zalika turned around to face her.  "Perhaps there's something I can do," she offered.  "Do you mind if I examine you with my magic?"

            "Certainly; If you have any solutions, I would be glad to hear them." Synne’s eyes were bright with unshed tears.

            Zalika placed a hand on Synne's belly.  Hm, she thought after a few minutes of searching with her body-shaping magics.  It's not the blood tie -- Phaeron and Synne are so genetically different despite being maternal twins it wouldn't be a factor.  She added her spirit-magics to the examination.  Wait.  There's a wound on her soul.  A nasty one, too -- someone tried to destroy her soul and came close to succeeding.  That could certainly account for it, depending on what was done to heal it and the damage involved.  She probed deeper.  There's another soul, used as a patch -- and with the owner's consent, no less.  Deeper still...

            Zalika stopped the probe.  She had the answer as to why Persephone hadn't been resurrected.  "I could fix things to make you fertile," she told the nightmare gently, "but I suspect you already know what that would entail."

            "Realignment of what is left of Persephone's soul," Synne finished.  "Such a thing would destroy her utterly.  The way things are now, when I die her soul will separate from mine as a complete entity."

            "There is a third possibility; it would require a third soul and it would be destroyed in the --"

            Synne didn't let her finish.  "Unacceptable."   Her tone was still polite but cool and brooked no argument.  "Do you mind a change of subject?"

            Congratulations my dear -- you passed my little test.  "Not at all.  Why don't you turn around so I can wash your back?"

            "Thank you."  The mare presented her lovely back for Zalika to scrub.  "I suspect you have a lot more questions."

            "A general history of Avalon would be a good place to start," the jackal agreed, grabbing the soap.

            "Now there's a topic to last a month of discussion," Synne complained, moaning slightly as Zalika scrubbed.

            "The basics, if you don't mind."

            "A week, then.  Very well.  There are two basic types of races in Avalon: the magical ones -- unicorns, nighthorses, cerebi, kitsune, phoenix, manticore to name a few -- and non-magical ones such as dwarves, dryads, elves, minotaurs and orcs.  I can give you some books if you want the full list."

            "I'd like that."  Zalika stared to knead the other woman's shoulders.

            "Mmmmmm," Synne purred.  "You've got skilled hands.  To continue: the races are also divided up into what is commonly referred to as 'Light' and 'Dark' races.  Summed up, Light races put the needs of the group first and Dark races tout individual desires as paramount.  Needless to say, Light races are considered  'good'."

            "Thereby excusing all sorts of behavior."  Zalika applied her thumbs to Synne's shoulder-blades.

            The nightmare sighed appreciatively.  "Correct.  This division has always existed as far back as recorded history.  The non-magical races didn't factor in until the Second Great Migration -- about ten thousand years ago."

            "Second?  What was the first?"

            "The Avalonians settling in Avalon.  There are myths we came from another world that was destroyed in some sort of cataclysm.  Details are sketchy, I'm afraid."

            "I'll bet."  Her hands wandered down Synne's back and spine.  "And the Second?"

            "A classic example that even the best of intentions can have bad consequences." The nightmare stretched her back out underneath Zalika's probing fingers.  "Mmmm.  Avalon sorcerers, in experimenting with the relatively new field of dimensional magics, discovered the dimension of what we now call Mundane Earth.  The various magical colleges were ecstatic, and for the first time Lights and Darks willingly worked together to investigate this new place.  Their joy quickly changed to concern when they saw what was going on -- primitive carnivorous races eating the herbivorous ones into extinction.  A decision was made to bring as many races as possible here so they wouldn’t be wiped out."

            "Sounds time-consuming."

            "It took about a thousand years.  By that time, the damage had been done.  Mundane Earth did not produce manna in any significant quantities; all the traveling back and forth increased the amount of Avalon’s manna that was already flowing to there.  The additional loss of manna didn't bother Avalon but it threw Mundane Earth’s thaumaturgic environment for a loop. Horrible mage-storms swept the planet, demons popped in and out with regular frequency -- it was starting to look like we'd saved entire races at the cost of a world. It was in the course of looking for a solution that the World Spires were discovered."

            Zalika's questing fingers were now submerged, kneading the base of the other woman's spine.  "What are those?"

            Synne shuddered and gave a small whicker of pleasure.  "I fear I've never seen one; I've been told by Phaeron they exist within their own pocket dimensions so are invisible and intangible on Mundane Earth.  They were doing something magical -- no one could and has ever figured out what their original function was.  The Gifted proposed using them as a filter, to help Mundane Earth control its magic.  It took five hundred years, but finally one brilliant phoenix came up with a way to contact the builders of the Spire; the Lords of Magic."

            "Phaeron mentioned them."

            Synne giggled.  "Using several choice curses I'm sure.  Personally I think the Lords annoy him because they find it amusing.  At any rate, the Spires were configured so all magic collects into them and can only be accessed through extensive discipline and study.  When Xendaen destroyed two of the Spires, she made the effort required to tap their power easier.  If all the Spires were destroyed, only a minimal amount of study would be required to tap Mundane Earth's manna."

            Zalika noticed that at the mention of the Dark Minstrel, Synne's body tightened slightly under her fingertips.  Hmm.  "Which the Societies think is a bad thing, of course."

            Synne sighed, but this time in regret rather than at the touch of the jackal's hands on her pelt.  "The problem is manna -- and therefore magic -- has different properties on Mundane Earth; it only affects events within the spell's immediate zone of influence.  This makes it a bad tool for building a civilization on.  Just ask the citizenry of Atlantis.  Or Ys.  Or Troy as it slipped into madness and decadence.  Or, worst of all, Mainsencabre."

            "Mainsencabre?"

            Synne shuddered.  "You really don't want to know."

            "Even so, they're fighting a battle already lost," Zalika urged.  Her fine instincts told her maybe this woman was more than halfway to seeing reason.  "If Raquel isn't proof of that, I don't know what is."

            "True," Synne intoned.  Zalika felt something like an echo of truth-compelling magic course through the nightmare's body.  "With technology's prominence and its emphasis on widespread change, it's only a matter of time.  There are furs working around the clock to ensure news of Raquel's change in appearance doesn't get out -- and with each day it grows progressively harder."

            "You don't need to use truth-spells on yourself to illicit my belief," Zalika chided, slipping her arms around the other woman's waist.

            "It's my nature as a Truthfinder," Synne told her, snuggling.  "I always speak True.  That way furs don't bother to question whether or not I'm lying to them."

            "True isn't the same as right,"  Zalika told her, maintaining the hug.  "The 'truth' of the societies led to Xendaen's persecution and metamorphis into the Dark Minstrel, and then left Vicki to the mercy of politics."

            "Correct on all counts," Synne said sadly.  "In their zeal to protect, the Societies have become too manipulative.  I've been trying to get Phaeron to quit now for close to a thousand years.  He almost quit after Xendaen's death, in fact."

            Zalika caressed the Nightmare's belly gently, stopping just underneath her breasts. "Why didn't he?"

            "He was too busy cleaning house." Synne managed to growl and purr at the same time.  "He spent almost a decade ripping through he Whites, bringing to judgment those responsible for Xendaen; then he went after the Blacks.  By the time he was done, three hundred years had come and gone. Since then every time I've managed to get him thinking about quitting a new disaster seems to pop up."  She peered over her shoulder at her impromptu masseuse and gave her a wicked smile.  "You have a marvelous interrogation technique."

            "Would you prefer thumbscrews and branding irons?" Zalika quipped.

            Synne laughed.  "Certainly not on the first date!"

            Zalika couldn't help but smile along with her.  "So, what are the Societies’ plans for the future??"

            "Personally, I hope they realize that 'the end justifies the means' belongs in the past.”  Synne suddenly grew somber.  “As for my own plans, it is far past time I put my hoof down with Phaeron; I can no longer stand to see him sell his soul a piece at a time."

            "I wish you all the best of luck," Zalika purred in one delectable ear.  She raised her hands to Synne's breasts and touched the nipples lightly; the nightmare hissed and arched her back.  "I think you'll do just fine."

            "I hope so.  If..."

            "No more on depressing thoughts."  The jackal licked the mare's neck delicately.  "Time for play.  We've got some catching up to do, you and I."

            Synne craned her neck around to rub her muzzle against Zalika's nearby cheek.  "That we do.  Would you permit me to use my dreaming abilities?"

            "Thank you, but no.  My dreams would spoil the mood."  Back to the delicious ear for another lick.  "But tell me...are you feeling adventurous?"

            "Always," she purred, turning to face Zalika with eyes closed and mouth open, waiting.  Zalika didn't disappoint her, giving her  a thorough kiss which she returned.  The nightmare's hands caressed her top pair of breasts, pinching the nipples hard and then releasing them quickly before doing the same to her bottom pair.

             Zalika moaned around her lover's talented tongue and began working her way to the nightmare's neck.  She brought her hands up and cupped the sides of Synne's head, licking just under the collarbone.  The nightmare really seemed to like that, and squeezed her ass deliciously hard. I wonder what else she'd like?  Zalika shifted through Synne's thoughts – not an easy thing due to the strength of her mind -- for her secret fantasies; one in particular caught her attention right away.  Now that looks interesting.   The jackal brought her body-shapng magics to bear and pulled downward on Synne's head slowly.  The other woman ran skilled fingers up and down Zalika's spine in a maddening dance as her chest widened in response to the additional mass being relocated into it.  *You like?* Zalika projected into Synne's mind, giving her colla