《8 Eden & Jude》


 Book I - Eden - Prologue - Greyhound - Chapter 1 - The Serpent

    Book I - Eden - Prologue


    "I''m here to pick up a ticket to San Francisco," I told a wizened woman behind a Greyhound kiosk. She had a glassy, faraway look in her eyes, blinking twice at me before resigning themselves to the lifeless allure of a boxy computer screen.


    "ID, please," she sighed at the screen. I handed mine over.


    As she typed in my information, I looked around.


    Fluorescent lights flickered over grimy beige floors. Arcade machines lined the walls, where a man slept, hunched over the handlebars of a motorcycle game. The smell of urine lingered menacingly. A man in many jackets slept on the floor next to a portable stereo blaring "Que Sera" by Wax Tailor.


    Gears crunched out my ticket, bringing my attention back to the listless Greyhound attendant, who ripped the ticket off and slipped it into an envelope. She picked up a black Sharpie and wrote a large number 8 on the back, circling it twice before handing it to me.


    "Get in the line behind Door 8," she muttered.


    I said thanks and grabbed my threadbare grey suitcase, supporting my backpack with my other arm, and walked into the crowd of poverty that is a Greyhound bus station. People with money travel by plane or train. Poor people take the bus, so naturally, you encounter a wide swath of humanity.


    Travelers of every color and background filled the cramped, neglected room. Several carried their belongings in black trash bags, unable to afford a suitcase. My clothes were deliberately nondescript: faded blue jeans and an oversized black cotton coat.


    I got in line behind a round man in a cowboy hat, then took out my spiral ring notebook. It would be a few minutes before bus 8 was ready to board, so I closed my eyes and went to Eden.


    Growing up, my family moved almost yearly, so I didn''t keep many friends. Instead of friends, I had books. Fantasy stories, mostly, but also history.


    Years ago, I read about monks who built ''memory palaces'' in their minds. They would imagine a castle or a church, for example, and then imagine building it, brick by brick, so they knew every crevice, every room.


    My ''memory palace'' was a planet. Eden. I''d go to Eden whenever the real world was too awful, or when I was bored and waiting for a bus. Eden had a history, two continents, islands, people, drama, and adventure.


    In my spiral ring notebook, I wrote about Inari, an island volcano, boiling graveyard of the firefox people, destroyed 30 years ago in His Holy Crusade against magical creatures.


    "Boarding, door 8 to San Francisco." A screeching speaker brought me back to Earth, as the cowboy in front of me shuffled forward. I sat in a window seat and hoped no one would talk to me. My long legs bumped against the seat in front of mine.


    A woman in her early 50''s sat next to me. "Hi, I''m Hellen," her voice was soft and deep. Silver streaks framed her face, reminding me of my mother. I nodded once.


    In the seat across from hers, a skinny woman with mossy brown hair looked over at me. "Hellen, you got a cute one!" the woman said merrily.


    My cheeks reddened. I wasn''t used to being complimented and didn''t know how to respond. "Aww, and he blushes! That''s adorable!" she giggled in delight. I buried myself in the window.


    "Oh, don''t mind her, love," Hellen said. "How far are you going?"


    For a furious moment, I wondered if I could ignore this seemingly-friendly woman. "San Francisco," I responded curtly and continued looking out the window, hoping she''d take the hint.


    "Oh, my daughter lives there! You''ll love it. It''s really something," she said, undaunted. "I''m getting off in Portland. My son''s getting married!"


    "Congratulations," I said flatly, still looking out the window.


    "Oh, bless you," she answered. I cringed. "What''s bringing you down to San Francisco?"


    "It''s far from my family, and that''s good enough for me."


    She paused with great concern. "Why do you want to get away from your family?"


    "I don''t see how that''s any of your business."


    She blinked several times. "How old are you, dear?"


    I hated that question. "I''m nineteen."


    "You''re a baby!"


    My irritation must have been evident, as she felt the need to apologize.


    "Oh, I''m sorry, dear. It''s just that I have grandkids almost your age. Tell me, do you have a job lined up there?"


    "Not yet. I bought my ticket last night. I''ll apply to places once I arrive."


    The lines on her face bunched together in concern. "I think you''ll find that more difficult than you''re expecting."


    I ignored her observation and picked up my spiral ring notebook. Hellen seemed hurt, but I pretended to not notice. Instead, I looked out the window. The bus was pulling out of the station. In the distance, I saw Mount Rainier, a sleeping volcano, Seattle''s everlasting monument to doom and beauty, commanding the skyline. I imagined it erupting, spewing fire and stone into the sky. In my mind, it became Inari, and I was back on Eden.


    The smoking, boiling ruins of Inari could be seen from the nearest Vulpen Island, Crescent, a jungle of ancient trees with two urban spaces: a marketplace on the harbor of the bay and the slope that led up to Castle Moondial.


    Built and carved into the stone at the highest point on the island, Castle Moondial towered over the rest of Crescent and cast a long shadow on the ocean below. Outside the castle, a crowd cheered wildly as two combatants faced off in a square.


    The crowd surged like a wave as Rafael Avalyn yelled a battle cry. Rafael was only fourteen, yet he had a strange magnetism. The audience held their breath as he attacked his opponent, feinted, parried, then danced around, spinning his staff beautifully.


    The sun was high and bright. The ocean breeze, cool and refreshing.


    Above the square and crowd, on a balcony built into the castle wall, sat Crescent''s stewarding family. They could see the entire island of Crescent from their seats.


    Steward Arthur Avalyn wanted to watch his son compete, but his attention was needed elsewhere. Captain Reynard was escorting an unfamiliar guest to the shaded balcony Arthur shared with his daughters Morgan and Lyn and his mother Henrietta. Only Arthur and Morgan stood to greet the man. Lyn was young enough, and Henrietta was old enough, to get away with remaining seated.


    "Welcome to Crescent, Good Brother. We''re honored by your presence," said Steward Avalyn. Captain Reynard stepped back to observe.


    Brother Timothy was short and gaunt, with strawberry blonde hair and black robes. A simple-looking man, except for the eye. His left eye was a vertical slit, like a cat''s eye. It had a soul-chilling effect, like looking into the eye of a killer.


    "The pleasure is all mine, Steward Avalyn," said Timothy with a grin, and Arthur believed it. Expectancy lit Brother Timothy''s face. The man was ecstatic, eerily so. They held hands in greeting, and a chill ran through Arthur''s body like ice down an empty stomach.


    "Your¡­ arrival takes me by surprise, Good Brother. Of course, accommodations will be prepared. Perhaps you wish to retire before we discuss this new change in policy?" Steward Avalyn offered, hoping the good brother would leave so Arthur could cheer for his son. Arthur heard the audience groan in unison but stayed focused.


    "No, not at all. I insist on watching the show," said Timothy.


    Morgan vacated her seat for the Good Brother and moved to sit beside her grandmother.


    Timothy dropped into Steward Avalyn''s right-hand seat with pomp, still grinning. "I''ve been looking forward to this conversation. I''m here to inform you that the Lord Father assigned me to be your new Holy Advisor and your children''s new governor."


    Arthur''s response was immediate and well-rehearsed. "Of course, I bow to the wisdom of the Holy Father. Might I ask, why now?" Steward Avalyn chose his words carefully. "I only ask that I might serve Him better."


    The good brother remained silent, staring into Avalyn''s eyes with a grin. Arthur glanced toward his son and saw Rafael was in the corner.


    "Dutiful of you," Timothy quipped finally, demanding Arthur''s attention again. "It''s the Lord Father''s wish that all five Islands of Vulpex be consolidated into a single domain with a single emissary. Rafael is being considered for that position. I''m here to determine if he is deserving and, if he is, advise him."


    "That''s-- wow! That''s wonderful. We''ll prepare your room for an extended stay, then?"


    "I suspect I''ll stay here for the rest of my life," Timothy grinned.


    Arthur turned again to watch his son nimbly spin in the air, with the tip of his staff barely striking his opponent''s hand, breaking several bones. The man''s staff fell to the floor, and Rafael knocked it out of the square.


    Captain Reynard''s voice magickt in Arthur''s ear, "He''s trying to provoke a reaction out of you. We need to find out what he knows. I''ll send Apple to spy on him."


    "Excellent," Arthur cheered, but his mind was preoccupied. Good Brother Timothy was a snake if ever there was one, and Arthur invited the snake into his home! Not that he had a choice in the matter. Refusing an emissary of the Holy Father was suicide. The only response available to him was gratitude and humility. He hated it. Timothy''s smug smile burned into Arthur''s mind like an ugly brand.


    Meanwhile, the crowd below was chanting Rafael''s name. He won.


    April 2008 - Greyhound


    "What''s that you''re writing, dear?" Hellen''s question brought me back to Earth. The sunset reflected off Pacific waters. The toilet in the back of the bus was no longer in service, and the smell of human waste permeated. My back was stiff from sitting for hours.


    I looked at Hellen suspiciously. No one had taken an interest in my writing before. But in her silver-framed face, I saw she was simply bored and trying to pass the time.


    "It''s just a fantasy story. You''d probably find it tedious," I answered.


    "Nonsense. I have eight grandchildren," she said, "and I love hearing their stories. Besides, still another hour or so before my stop. Tell me your story. What''s it about?"Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Well, I guess it started as a story about Adam and Lilith," I said.


    "Who?"


    "Lilith. Adam''s first wife, before Eve."


    "I haven''t heard of Lilith."


    "That''s probably because she isn''t in the Bible. The earliest references I could find of Lilith were in Jewish myths, as a demon who ate babies. She was later reappropriated in a profane book called the Alphabet of Sirach, which details her banishment from Eden for demanding equality with Adam.


    "The book was lewd and satirical. It wasn''t supposed to be taken seriously; yet priests and rabbis took the story and re-reappropriated it as a cautionary tale for women who might rebel against the patriarchy. It''s kinda funny because these days, she''s been re-re-reappropriated as a patron saint of feminists. You might have heard about the Lilith Fair."


    "That''s interesting. No, I haven''t," said Hellen.


    "Yeah, I''m full of interesting, useless information."


    "So your story is about Lilith, then?"


    "More like she''s pulling the strings. Lilith was banished to Nod, which is this harsh, bleak place where she lives underground because the winds are so deadly.


    "Meanwhile, Adam and Eve rule Eden. They were made perfect, so they''re immortal, but because they ate the Forbidden Fruit, their children grow old and die. Millenia has passed. Adam is obsessed with breaking the curse that kills his children. Lilith is obsessed with revenge against Adam and even God. My characters live in Eden under Adam''s rule."


    Hellen smiled widely. "That''s fascinating! And you know the Bible! How wonderful. It''s so nice to see young men who read the Lord''s book."


    "No, I''ve never read the Bible. My mom raised me, and she claims to be Christian, but she isn''t, really. She took us to church a few times, but I don''t believe in the Christian God."


    That surprised Hellen. She looked offended. "Then why are you writing about Bible stories?"


    "Because I grew up on them. They''re what I know, and they''re entertaining, but I don''t believe in Jesus any more than I believe in Superman."


    Hellen wrung her hands. "It''s disrespectful to reduce our holiest icon to pop fiction. Even if you don''t believe, can you at least show a little respect for those of us who do?"


    "Mm. No. See, because Christians systematically wiped out entire cultures. You devoured pagan myths and plagiarized them as your own. You demand the respect you deny others. So, no. The most I can offer you is my sympathy, and that''s only when I have the patience to give it."


    Hellen was white in the face, stunned to silence.


    I leaned in for the finisher, whispering, "And by the way, I''m gay as Hell. That''s why I chose San Francisco: I''m gonna go fuck some guys. Like a train of guys. It''s gonna get weird."


    Then I picked up my spiral ring notebook and mechanical pencil, ignoring Hellen again. It was awkward for a minute after that. Thankfully, the bus pulled into Portland, where Hellen and her friend got off.


    "I''ll pray for you," she said in lieu of goodbye.


    "Save your breath," I hollered back. No one sat next to me for the rest of the trip.


    As the Greyhound bus carried on to California, the ocean waves outside my window carried me back to Eden.


    Chapter 1 - The Serpent


    The crowd surrounding the square erupted in cheers of jubilee. Crescent hadn''t won the Perigee Tournament since before Rafael was born, and to be victorious at only fourteen years old was a remarkable achievement.


    Everyone was ecstatic. Well, almost everyone.


    Gwendolyn Avalyn, Lyn to her family, was in many ways a typical 8-year-old. She had been sitting for several hours and grown restless as the tournament dragged on. Whenever her brother fought, Lyn got excited, but the final match was over, and Lyn was eager to leave.


    It was Apple''s duty to take care of, manage, and interpret for Lyn, and she was devoted, not that Apple had a choice in the matter. Apple was a capuchin monkey familiar, given a higher sentience by Godfather Adam Himself.


    Some creatures spent their lives wondering about their purpose in life, but not Apple. She was blessed and cursed to know precisely why: to serve the Avalyn family and interpret for Lyn.


    Apple was given to Lyn when the girl was just two years old. When Godfather Adam heard news that Lyn had been born deaf, He created Apple to be Lyn''s lifelong companion.


    Steward Avalyn graciously declined, but the Godfather insisted. Apple would be Lyn''s teacher and interpreter, and that was the end of discussion. Steward Avalyn could say nothing more but offer his gratitude for such a generous gift. After all, no one else on the island of Crescent could afford a familiar.


    Although today, a few wealthy visitors brought their familiars with them. By accessing the Aether, Apple could ''remember'' their memories. The Aether connected Apple to every familiar on Eden and to their memories, knowledge, and experiences, living or dead. When Apple first arrived on Crescent six years ago, Steward Avalyn forbade her from sharing her memories. But Apple could still access the public memories of other familiars.


    Presently, Apple was trying to distract her ward by describing the memory of a visiting lion familiar who witnessed a man falling face-first onto a pile of horse manure. Lyn chuckled at the story but kept glancing nervously at the Good Brother seated next to her father. Something about him clearly upset her.


    Apple told Lyn not to worry, but the stranger had a malevolent aura about him that made Apple''s fur rise. Something about the creepy smile that never left his face.


    ''The tournament is over,'' Lyn signed. ''Let''s go play in the garden.''


    Apple could think of no compelling reason to stay, so she told Lyn''s grandmother Henrietta their plan, then followed Lyn as she snuck quietly away. No one would question their sudden absence. It was Lyn''s prerogative to disappear for hours at a time. She was a wild, solitary child, prone to emotional outbursts. Most of the castle staff ignored her. And though her family loved her unreservedly, they were so busy with matters of state and duty that they rarely had time for Lyn.


    Consequently, Apple was more than simply Lyn''s servant and interpreter. She was Lyn''s best friend, her ever-present shadow, and even a surrogate mother. It was a responsibility Apple cherished dearly.


    They ran downstairs and crossed the castle courtyard to reach the garden. It was lush, beautifully maintained, and several acres wide, with tall trees and an array of native flowers. Bees and butterflies filled the air and flew out of reach of the island princess.


    Lyn was in high spirits again, far from the unnerving, smiling stranger. She spun in circles and laughed, basking in her sweet return to freedom and relative solitude. The bright sun made her short black hair shine like onyx. Lyn''s dress, a formal blue-green skirt, spun around her, aloft in the breeze, as if it might lift and carry her away, a flower petal on the wind.


    She stopped and looked at Apple; a pure, child-like grin lit her face. ''Let''s play Hide and Seek,'' she demanded. ''Close your eyes and count to 20, then come find me.''


    Hide and Seek was one of Apple''s favorite games. Despite her vast intelligence and magical sophistication, she was still an animal and loved to hunt and play. They played several rounds, taking turns, finding each other in trees, behind bushes, and under garden supplies. In time they grew hungry, and Lyn decided they should sneak into the kitchen for supplies.


    Stealing food from the kitchen was another game they often played. They knew every corner of Castle Moondial, every secret path and shortcut - or at least, they thought they did. One such hidden passage led to the kitchen.


    Lyn and Apple waited patiently until the guards had passed, then darted down the hallway, stopping abruptly to open a small grate before crawling into the small, dark opening in the wall. It was built to allow fresh air to flow to the deepest rooms of the castle, but they were small enough to fit. As she crawled on her hands and knees, Lyn calmly brushed a mouse aside and more than one spider out of her hair.


    They turned several times, having memorized the labyrinthine paths of this particular crawl space long ago. Finally, they saw the lights of the kitchen shining before them, like the sun at the end of a tunnel. They looked out into a spacious room lit by an enormous fire.


    The cooks and kitchen staff were hard at work preparing the feast Steward Avalyn had ordered for Rafael''s celebration. Delicious smells of cooked meats, vegetables, and sweet and savory desserts filled the air and made both Apple and Lyn''s mouths water. Apple had her eyes on a fruit torte, and Lyn pointed at a pecan pie with a greedy expression. But, of course, they couldn''t simply grab their spoils. They needed a proper diversion.


    Together they carefully removed the grate that separated them from their objectives. They were beneath a chopping table. The kitchen staff were all busy at their tasks. Now comes the challenging part. If they failed, Lyn''s father would be angry and send them to bed without dinner. It was all or nothing. Apple would provide the distraction while Lyn stole the food.


    Apple waited patiently and chose her moment carefully. When she was sure no one was looking, she dashed out from their hiding spot to slide under the center table where the chefs were preparing food. It was cramped, even for her, so she crawled on her belly to the other side of the room and waited once more for the perfect moment to strike.


    Several minutes passed, but her opportunity presented itself in the form of a young assistant. He entered the kitchen with his arms full of clean pots and pans. He couldn''t see the ground at his feet, so Apple jumped out from under the table and screeched in agony as if he had stepped on her tail. The young man jumped and hollered in surprise, dropping one of the pans in his arms, making a loud clamor, and surprising the entire kitchen.


    "Be careful!" Apple yelled at the poor boy, who turned bright red in the face and profusely apologized, looking confused and a little scared. Apple felt a stab of pity for the boy, who would no doubt be reprimanded, but not too severely. She ran out the door before anyone could say another word and sprinted down the hallway to where Lyn would surely be waiting with their spoils.


    She found Lyn next to the grate opening with a mouthful of pecan pie, two fruit tortes, and an enormous grin on her pecan-smeared face. Lyn even nabbed a fistful of caramel crickets, a favorite of Apple''s, and together they munched happily, laughing all the while.


    "Apple!" Someone shouted. Apple looked up to see Captain Reynard marching toward them with purpose. At first, Apple thought they would be reprimanded for stealing from the kitchens, but Reynard didn''t seem to care about their stash of desserts.


    "I have a task for you," he said. Apple began interpreting Captain Reynard''s words, but he told her to stop. This would be a secret mission, and Lyn didn''t need to know. Apple felt confused and uncomfortable but did as she was told, as always.


    But in all her life, Apple had never failed to interpret anyone''s speech for Lyn. Not doing so now felt like a terrible betrayal. Everyone ignored Lyn from time to time, but never Apple. The young girl reacted in anger, charging Captain Reynard and beating him with her tiny fists, but he hardly seemed to notice. The captain simply grabbed her arm and held her away from him, firmly, not with cruelty, but without question. Lyn tried to break away, but his grip was like steel. She jerked violently in vain, then, from the bottom of her lungs, she summoned an angry, frustrated shriek.


    Captain Reynard waved his hand and cast a spell to silence the girl, then resumed addressing Apple, ignoring Lyn. Apple watched helplessly, knowing Lyn felt violated, ignored, and silenced.


    Rage and passion swelled in Lyn''s tiny body until it found a new form of release. All the candles and lights around them began to brighten. When Lyn realized she was releasing her fury, she doubled her efforts to punish Apple and Reynard. The lights became blinding. Reynard raised his arms to cover his eyes, but still, it shined through. Then, as quickly as it began, it stopped, and Lyn collapsed in exhaustion.


    A full minute passed as Apple and Reynard blinked the stars out of their eyes, having been briefly blinded by the light''s intensity. Once he could see again, Reynard removed the silence spell from Lyn and carried her up to her bed. Then he examined her as if seeing her for the first time. Finally, Reynard pulled a chair next to Lyn''s bed and began to sign directly to her, something he had rarely done before.


    ''I am impressed,'' Reynard signed. ''Not many humans can wield magic, let alone 8-year-olds.''


    Lyn managed a weak smile.


    ''You depleted your mana when you brightened the lights. Sleep is what you need now. When you wake up, maybe I''ll teach you how to do magic properly so you don''t exhaust yourself.''


    But Lyn was already asleep. As the captain left the little witch to rest, her familiar Apple snuck out the window, as she had been instructed.


    The perigee moon illuminated the outside wall. Apple leapt from branch to stone to branch along a complicated path. On the docks below, Apple saw bustling crowds of partiers celebrating the occasion. Apple shimmied along strategically placed foliage, then dropped behind the cliff wall into a secret tunnel.


    The entrance was cramped and riddled with dead-ends, but Apple knew the correct path. She had done this several times. She climbed until her tiny claws grabbed hold of a ledge and pulled herself up.


    A thin strand of light shined from behind a wall. A tiny pinhole revealed the inside of the room, elegantly decorated, with a crackling fireplace warming the air. Apple saw Brother Timothy standing in front of a large ornate mirror. But instead of a reflection shining back at him, it was the Father Almighty himself, Adam. Apple began to tremble.


    "The Avalyns are downstairs celebrating Rafael''s victory in the Perigee tournament. Presumably, they''ll be at it well into the night, so we aren''t likely to be interrupted." Apple was listening to the steely-smooth voice of Brother Timothy.


    Holy Father Adam didn''t respond. His ancient face betrayed nothing.


    Brother Timothy continued in a slow drawl. "I contacted you because when I landed on Crescent, I sensed Fae magic immediately. Spellworks permeate the island. I can''t determine the nature of the spells, but I can smell them in the air. This castle reeks of it."


    At this declaration, Adam took interest. "Remnants, perhaps, hiding out on an island at the farthest corner of the world." The Holy Father mused. "The loneliness must be unbearable. Miserable creatures. I should have been more thorough."


    "Well, you certainly tried your best," said Timothy derisively. The audacity! To speak so flippantly to the Holy Father! "But evidence of fae magic isn''t definitive proof that the Avalyns are conspiring against you."


    Adam paused for a moment. "There''s a familiar hiding in the wall, spying on our conversation. Seize it."


    Brother Timothy turned to face the wall where Apple was hiding. She dived for the tunnel, but inexplicably, her body lurched sideways and broke through the wall. She screamed and squirmed, but all the same, she landed in Timothy''s calm, outstretched hand. Timothy''s other hand grabbed her head to snap her neck.


    Instead, he turned her to face her maker. Holy Father Adam considered her with dispassion. The jewel in Father Adam''s crown grew bright like a beacon, and Apple relaxed. She could neither move nor speak.


    "That''s better," said Adam. "Now we know they''re afraid. Why else would they send a spy?"


    "More to the point, what do you intend to do about it? Shall I kill it?" Timothy asked. Adam was silent. The jewel in his crown glowed horribly.


    "No need," Godfather said, finally. "Fix the wall and send the familiar back, unharmed. Feign ignorance." Adam looked into Apple''s eyes. The jewel shined ever brightly, and Adam''s orders flowed into her mind like the foundation of truth.

 Chapter 2 - San Francisco - Apple

    April 2008 - San Francisco


    My bus arrived in San Francisco around midnight.


    I grabbed a map of the city and found the nearest public library.


    I love libraries. In school, when other kids ran to the playground during recess, I went to the library and read fantasy stories in a comfortable corner. I learned to research at an early age, so I knew I''d find the information I needed in a library.


    The main city library was beautiful. Eight tall stories high, built of granite, with a glass ceiling, providing lots of natural light. Rows of staircases and bookshelves spiraled upwards, resembling a double helix.


    I went to the information desk and asked for help finding homeless shelters and job search centers in the city. The librarian didn''t seem surprised. Skinny teenagers must have been inquiring about homeless services with some regularity. She printed a few pages of information, and that''s how I learned about Larkin Street Youth Services.


    It was 2008. Some rich bankers had gambled with everyone else''s money, and millions lost their homes. The economy was in freefall. Austerity was the word of the day. Social programs were slashed nationwide. Homelessness was an epidemic. Hundreds of thousands of people from across the nation had come to San Francisco, fleeing poverty, hoping for a better life. In the harsh light of day, I saw them sleeping in abandoned doorways and huddling together for respite from the cold April winds.


    Larkin Street Youth Services'' federal budget had been cut in half. It would endure more cuts before the economy rebounded. All 50 beds in the Lark Inn were full. I wrote my name at the bottom of a long list of names, and they told me to check in every day to move up the list. It would be five weeks before a bed opened. They also gave me a paper bag. Inside was a thin PB&J and a banana. A few doors down was the Larkin Drop-In, where homeless youth could rest and eat during the day. Next door was an employment and training center. I asked around, and everyone gave the same advice: make a friend. Find a couch.


    I wasn''t very good at making friends and didn''t know how to trust people. So instead, I explored the city, looking for a place to sleep outside. I spent days walking to every corner of the water-walled city. At night, I retrieved my luggage and brought it to the safest place I found on my search. I trespassed at a dozen places or more. No construction site, dark alley, or stairway escaped my consideration. I jumped fences and slept in trees. I passed a thousand homeless people curled up on the sidewalk. Those wretched dark and shivering doorways seemed unambitious. I wanted something more.


    I found it on the third day of searching: the rooftop of a parking garage. To reach it, I took an elevator up five floors, stepped out onto a fire escape, climbed some stairs and a ladder, crossed the roof, descended a different ladder, and then jumped onto another roof. But seeing the stars and city at night made it worth the trouble.


    My rooftop had a broken water tower, with a man-sized tube for me to crawl in to take shelter from the misty rain. Most nights, the winds carried the music of a homeless saxophonist playing for change on the street below. I gave him more money than I could spare. In truth, it was one of the happiest times of my life.


    But nights in San Francisco can be cold and long. Some nights I couldn''t sleep. I''d walk up and down Market Street, stopping at a 24-hour fast food joint to stay warm. The security guards would wake me up whenever I closed my eyes. What little money I had only lasted long enough for my food stamps application to process. When my food stamps ran out, as they did on the third week of every month, I stole food from Walgreens or Safeway.


    Next, I started looking for work. Larkin''s employment center helped me improve and print my resume, and by May, I was working as a teller at a check cashing store in the Tenderloin. Locals call the Tenderloin ''an island of poverty in a sea of immense wealth.'' My store''s clients were mainly disabled veterans and societal rejects, either denied service by banks or through their own deliberate disavowal of mainstream society. Some were noble, many were swindlers, most were sad and miserable, but it was a living. By late May, my name reached the top of Larkin''s list, and a bed opened up in the Lark-Inn Shelter.


    I dragged my belongings to the shelter and secured them in a locker beside my bed. I shared the room with three other people. Having secured my basic needs, I explored San Francisco and returned to the library to research how to be gay. I read about Castro Street, Harvey Milk, Marsha P. Johnson, Stonewall, and some history of Queer civil rights.


    I also learned about cruising. In the before time, pre-internet, gays would walk down the street and try to make eye contact with passersby. If someone met their gaze, they''d turn around after passing to look again.


    Since Grindr wasn''t a thing yet, and I had limited access to the internet, I figured I would try my hand at cruising. I walked to Castro Street, San Francisco''s affluent gay district, and found a seat with a view of the sidewalk so I could watch as men passed by.


    Like everything else in life, I thought of it as a game or experiment, practicing how to meet people, how to have sex, how to fall in love. And I did want to fall in love.


    But what I really wanted was for someone to fix me. I felt broken. Unlovable. I wanted someone to help me put back my broken pieces and quiet my screaming mind, to hold me tight and tell me I was safe and it would all be okay.


    Sadly, that''s not what the men on Castro Street wanted from me.


    See, I dropped out of high school when I was 16 to work two jobs, and I was never good at making friends, anyway. So my exposure to people outside of my immediate family was limited. I''d never even kissed a boy until three days prior, but that''s a story for a different book. The point is, I was about to be told, over and over again, by total strangers that I was attractive, relatively speaking. Think Ryan Reynolds, but 19.


    I only mention it because, from their perspective, I was fresh meat, vulnerable, inexperienced, and ripe for the taking. The way wolves look at a deer alone in the woods. That''s how they saw me. I wanted someone to fix me. They wanted a meal.


    I lost count of how many men there were. At first, I thought they wanted me. Then I realized it was my body they wanted. Once they had my body, they''d lose interest in me because that''s the nature of wolves: they''re hunters.


    It didn''t do wonders for my already shaky self-esteem. As my sex partners multiplied, so did the number of men who didn''t call or text me back. Every time I returned to Castro to meet someone new, I grew a little more distrusting, a little more certain that something was broken in me. Why else would so many men take me and then forget about me completely?


    And when my fears were confirmed, as they often were, the screaming would start. There were no words, not even a noise, just a blood-curdling scream of rage and pain and fear that echoed in my mind. My imagination would envision me pulling my hair and crying and banging my head into things. But in reality, I''d be sitting at a table somewhere on Castro Street, calmly drinking a hot cup of coffee as strangers walked by.


    I met a string of fuckbois, narcissists, and drug addicts. I met men who never grew up. Men who tried to fill the void in themselves, sometimes with alcohol, sometimes with sex, or drugs, or money, or something else.


    I met more than a few good men. More often than not, I messed something up, and they ghosted me. But I kept meeting people, and as I met more people, I learned more about myself and others. I learned how to communicate.


    But the more people I met, the more alien I felt. Alone in the city and utterly inept at intimacy, I had nothing and no one. But I had a few things going for me, namely being a skinny, pretty, white twink with sharp cheekbones and bright blue eyes.


    You see, the mainstream gay community is racist AF on the DL, with several prejudices, spoken and unspoken, running through it like veins. There are a variety of gay subgroups, most of which serve to reinforce the established hierarchy (adhering to the values of white supremacy, money, and masculine power), but everyone is fetishized and objectified to some extent by someone or other. Gays sort themselves into ''tribes'' of furries, puppies, bears, cubs, otters, wolves, silver foxes, rice queens, white rice, sticky rice, daddies, bros, jocks, twinks, twunks, queens, queers, chubs, chasers of every variety, and many more.


    Almost 8 billion people in the world, and everyone has different tastes. No matter who you are or what you look like, someone thinks you''re the sexiest thing alive. But not everyone is in equal demand. Being young, white, and conventionally good-looking opened many doors while shutting a few others. Total strangers wanted things from me and gave me stuff, lots of stuff, just for showing up. And I traded on my good fortune. Alone in San Francisco, I was grateful for whatever reason people were nice to me. God knows not everyone was. Some people were outright cruel. Do you know the song "Another Suitcase in Another Hall" from Evita? I know. Musical reference. Gay. Whatever. That song sets the tone I''m going for here.


    Anyway, I don''t remember much. Partly because I was experimenting with drugs and alcohol for the first time and partly because I don''t think there were many memories worth holding onto back then.


    But maybe I deserved it. I was insecure, impulsive, and dishonest with myself and, therefore, with everyone else. For that reason, I suspect, people didn''t trust me. Even when I spoke the truth, people didn''t believe me, so I lied more. With every strange man I met, I practiced a different version of myself.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    That''s how I approached each new encounter, like a game. I would envision a better version of myself. Perhaps I''d have no family. Perhaps I''d be visiting from Utah. Perhaps I''d be sweet and naive. Or maybe dark and stoic.


    He would take me to dinner somewhere, and I''d watch him watch me, observe his ticks, smiles, and frowns, like a scientist jotting mental notes. Little things like where to put my hands, how to use a knife and fork, how loud I should talk to waiters, fundamental stuff most normal people take for granted. I needed practical experience, and I got it from one man after another. Sometimes I had sex with them. Usually. Not always. Once, I traded sex for money.


    I was dating someone at the time. Kevin. Had great hair, a cute dimple when he smiled, and the sex was excellent, but his mind was erratic. His emotions were wild and unpredictable. He was never violent, but he was unstable. Most importantly, he was kind to me. He wanted me around. He was also homeless, and we were about the same age, so we had stuff in common.


    One day he suggested I try hustling, as he called it. He said boys like me could make thousands of dollars a week hustling. It was like a rite of passage, he said. Every gay boy in the city does it at least once.


    I can neither confirm nor deny that last sentence, but I can say that I did it at least once. I used craigslist to find my john, back before the government gutted craigslist to ''protect us,'' ironically taking power and autonomy out of the hands of vulnerable sex workers.


    The john and I talked a bit online at first, exchanging information and the usual. When all was agreed upon, I walked to his house. He was kind and generous. I pretended to be Julia Roberts before she met Richard Gere. You know, confident and sexy, like, I know what I''m doing because I''ve done it all before. The sex was fine, and the money was nice, but I felt cheap. It''s hard to explain. I would have had sex with the same guy for free. He was good-looking and seemed nice enough. It was an otherwise normal hook-up, except this time, I was paid for it. And for whatever reason, I didn''t like that. I thought I''d be pleased. I got off, and I made some quick cash, but I didn''t like feeling up for sale.


    So I bought a caramel frappuccino from Starbucks to make myself feel better. An impractical thing. A luxury I couldn''t afford, a lifestyle I wasn''t born into but could taste for a small price. Next, I bought an MP3 player, so I could listen to music again. The first albums I downloaded were "Attack and Release" by the Black Keys and "The Sunset Tree" by the Mountain Goats. I spent the rest on necessities, like minutes on my phone, deodorant, razors, and other things food stamps can''t buy.


    I resolved not to do sex work again. It wasn''t a traumatic experience. I don''t regret it, but I didn''t enjoy it. I also decided to end things with Kevin. I had enough problems without adding his to the mix. He later went to prison for money laundering, so leaving was probably the right call on my part.


    Meanwhile, Lark-Inn Shelter had an 8 pm curfew. So at the end of each day, I would wait outside for my name to be called. If I wasn''t present, Lark-Inn would give my bed away to someone else, and I would fall back to the bottom of the list. For a month, I drifted to sleep listening to the snores and farts of forty-nine other street urchins; my spiral ring notebook on the floor next to my bed, so I could write notes of my dreams. And when I dreamed, I dreamed of Eden.


    Chapter 2 - Apple


    Apple found herself in the castle hall as if walking from one dream into another. Moonlight shined brightly through the windows but couldn''t illuminate how she got here. Report back to Avalyn, she thought, but there was something else, too; something she mustn''t tell him, something she mustn''t think about, and she didn''t try.


    The door to Steward Avalyn''s private quarters was rustic and unadorned. Apple rapped her tiny knuckles against the dense slab of wood, summoning the faintest of sounds, struggling to be heard against the cacophony in the great hall. A celebration in honor of Rafael''s victory would likely last through the night.


    The door swung open, and Apple looked up to see the imposing form of Captain Reynard. The captain was strikingly handsome, with chiseled features and a broad, muscular physique.


    Apple hopped into the formal dignity of Arthur Avalyn''s office. The walls were scarcely decorated with images of historical significance. One painting, titled ''Wrath of Godfather,'' hung on the wall behind Steward Avalyn''s desk. It depicted Adam, armored, floating midair, his golden locks flowing angelically in the wind. In tragic and gorgeous detail, the painting conveyed devastation and sorrow, as a massive landmass was being swallowed by the ocean. Eden''s molten blood erupted, and massive tidal waves advanced to engulf it all. The Godfather appeared grief-stricken as He massacred countless thousands, but also determined.


    Steward Arthur Avalyn sat beneath the painting, looking skeptical. Captain Reynard shut the door and moved to stand at Arthur''s side.


    "You''ve been watching Brother Timothy for hours." The steward spoke with gravity, considering each word carefully. Arthur made no secret of his disdain for the monkey. He had an unreserved distrust of all familiars. Still, Lyn needed a translator and companion, and Arthur loved his weird daughter dearly. "What did you observe?" His head tilted barely.


    Apple tried to remember the last few hours but couldn''t. Her memories were shrouded in a dense fog. Then suddenly, unbidden, words flew from her lips.


    "Shortly after his arrival, Brother Timothy spoke with the Godfather in the guest mirror. Then he spent several hours in the castle records examining historical accounts. He was particularly interested in the Colonial Era."


    Steward Avalyn leaned forward with a hungry look in his eyes. "What did Timothy and Adam discuss?"


    "Timothy had suspicions that a fae had somehow survived the Cleansing and was hiding somewhere at the tournament." Apple was confused. Why would she say all that? Arthur, meanwhile, gave the little monkey his most rapt attention.


    "Has Timothy surmised the identity of the fae?" Arthur''s voice was deadly calm.


    "No. He detected trace evidence of fae spellwork, but there were too many people at the tournament to pin down. Godfather tasked Timothy with finding the fae fugitive, exterminating it, and bringing to justice anyone sheltering it."


    Steward Avalyn sat back in his chair and silently contemplated the familiar with unnerving intensity.


    "Did they discuss Rafael or a Vulpen Stewardship?" Arthur finally asked.


    "Yes. Brother Timothy had great praise for the combat prowess and popularity of Rafael. Godfather was optimistic that the Vulpen Islands would be in good hands." Apple said mindlessly. Arthur sat back in his chair, contemplative but seemingly satisfied.


    "Apple." Captain Reynard addressed her now. "I''m told familiars can access the memories of other familiars around Eden. Has any familiar seen Timothy? Are there memories of him? Who is he?"


    Apple closed her eyes and let her mind slip into the Aether. She held the image of Brother Timothy in her mind, then released it into streams of cosmic consciousness that connected all familiars. Memories came to Apple like sudden inspiration.


    "Timothy was born in the capital," she told them. "When he was 8, an accident left him a simpleton. After that, his mother gave him to the Church. Timothy joined the seminary as soon as he recovered. That was 30 years ago. It seems he spent most of his life in the same church his mother left him. Most archived memories of Timothy are of him scrubbing floors and cleaning stables."


    "That makes no sense," Arthur interjected. "How did a simple peon become an emissary for the Godfather?" He watched as Apple''s eyes darted behind her eyelids as if she were dreaming.


    "There are no memories explaining his elevated status. Before his arrival today, the last archived memory of Timothy was four months ago, performing janitorial duties."


    Arthur and Reynard shared a meaningful glance.


    "Thank you, Apple," said the steward. "You''re dismissed. Return to Lyn."


    The monkey familiar curtsied cutely and retreated the way she entered.


    Steward Arthur Avalyn reached into his desk drawer and retrieved a cigar. "You want one?" he offered Captain Reynard.


    "Are we celebrating?" Reynard asked with dry insolence as he secured the door. Joyous celebrations could still be heard echoing down the castle halls. Arthur clipped his cigar and lit it smoothly, his cool unshaken.


    "Why shouldn''t we celebrate? Rafael will be Steward of Vulpex, and Adam hasn''t a clue." Arthur sat back in his chair and puffed with satisfaction. "Timothy''s on to you, but we can figure that out. Worst case scenario, we kill him and make it look like an accident. I think this is a good day."


    "It doesn''t make sense," Reynard said. "The monkey said Timothy was some brain-damaged orphan who spent his life behind church walls. Now, mysteriously, he''s a good brother with a mirror window to Adam himself. Either Timothy isn''t who he seems to be, or the familiar is lying."


    "They''re probably different people. The monkey confused him for a look-alike." Arthur set his cigar down and rose to walk to his cabinet. He poured two drinks and handed one to Reynard, a stiff honey mead mulled with ginger. "I think our more pressing concern is keeping you a secret," Arthur continued. "We need you far away from Timothy where he can''t trace your magic. We''ll bring you back after Timothy has been dealt with. There''s no need to change the plan now."


    Reynard drank his mead and ruminated. "Maybe you''re right. It''s a lucky thing I wasn''t discovered at the tournament, but it doesn''t matter what happens to me. If Timothy figures out what Rafael is, what he''s capable of... Adam will kill him and trap his soul forever. We lose everything."


    Arthur returned to sit pensively on his desk, smoke elegantly rising from his cigar. "We''ve taken every precaution possible where Rafael is concerned. He''s not the one presently in danger of getting us all caught. We need to get you out of sight. Go to Sanctuary. Leave tonight. Inform your mistress once you arrive. Speaking of, have you dreamt of Lilith lately?"


    Reynard sighed. "Not for many nights. A dream of her would put my mind at ease. This business with Brother Timothy makes me uneasy. I''ll go to Sanctuary, but I won''t sit and wait. Let me bring Lyn. She used magic today. I can teach her to control and harness her abilities. It''s the perfect opportunity. No one would know."


    Arthur''s head was swirling, and he steadied himself on his desk. Reynard put his hand on Arthur''s hand and addressed him directly. "Original Sin is progressing exponentially. There aren''t many humans left who can wield mana." Reynard paused to look at the painting over Arthur''s desk, ''Wrath of Godfather,'' in glorious and terrifying detail.


    "That''s what we''re up against. Mages are rare enough. We need to know what Lyn is capable of. She could prove invaluable."


    Arthur''s mind was reeling. Emma died giving birth to Lyn. Their marriage was arranged under the conditions of Vulpex''s surrender. He resented Emma for years, but they learned to love each other. When Emma died, Arthur was devastated. As such, he loved Lyn with precious affection, being the last link to his beloved. Letting her go so soon into the harsh and wild world tore at him. But Arthur was accustomed to grief. He knew what they were up against.


    "I suppose you''ll need mana for the road," Arthur relented.


    "If you want," Reynard replied, and Arthur nodded.


    "It would be nice... to see her again... before you go," he said softly.


    The air around Captain Reynard rippled like smoke over a fire, and in an instant, he was gone, and instead, Emma stood in front of Arthur once more. Tears filled his eyes, and a sad smile broke his lips as she leaned in to kiss him one last time.

 Chapter 3 - Jes & Dante - Crystal Caves

    May 2008 - Jes & Dante


    I woke up on a polyurethane mattress designed to prevent bedbugs. It stuck to my skin like adhesive and left bright red marks on my face. My three bunkmates and I shambled out of bed as the warden shouted that it was time to leave the shelter. Breakfast would be over in 30 minutes, and then they would kick us out by force if necessary.


    I stumbled into the common room that smelled like bleach and choked down a breakfast of donated cold cereal. Some fellow guttersnipes chatted nearby.


    "Hey, new guy," an outgoing transgirl at the end of the table called to me. Her name was Faerie. She wore lots of dark eyeliner, hot pink lipstick, and torn clothes. Her hair was dyed cyan. "We''re having a friendly disagreement and need a third party tiebreaker. Who would win in a fight, Batman or Iron Man?"


    Behind her, a grainy bootleg copy of Iron Man was playing on an old television, likely what prompted the discussion. Both Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne were billionaire tycoon vigilantes. As a comic book geek, I had already given this question a lot of thought.


    "That depends on too many variables; location, context," I responded.


    "No, no," spoke Faerie''s friend, Alex. His voice was soft and deliberately lowered. He had no facial hair but short brown hair on top. Both of them were early in their transition. "Colosseum fight to the death. No reasons. No explanations. Who wins?" he demanded.


    "In that case, probably Iron Man."


    "That is horseshit!" Faerie slammed her fist on the table. "Batman would set off an electromagnetic pulse, kick Tony Stark''s little bitch ass, and call it entertainment! Without his suit, he''s just a narcissist."


    "Sorry, baby, but that''s Iron Man 2, Batman 1." Alex''s taunt was said with affection, which confused me, but then I figured it out. They were two trans people going in opposite directions together. It was so charming I couldn''t help but smile.


    "You, sir, strange new person, are so wrong!" Faerie pointed her finger at me, but I wasn''t ready to concede yet.


    I responded, "In a sudden death cage match, the Invincible Iron Man would blow up Batman with his many guided missiles. Tony Stark is a genius, but Bruce Wayne is a mastermind. If he had the time to devise a plan of attack, Batman would win."


    "That sounds like Bruce Wayne 2, Tony Stark 1, peach," Faerie shot back at Alex.


    "He said both and neither. Screw it. It doesn''t matter, anyway."


    They went back to talking to each other and ignored me. I stretched my neck to watch the movie; when a small tangle of a girl, who happened to be in my line of sight, looked at me and yelled, "The fuck are you looking at, bitch?"


    "Nothing." I twitched and tried to act normal. "I was just watching the movie."


    "It''s a piece of shit." The girl stumbled to sit across from me. Alex and Faerie got up and left, and I thought about following them. Instead, I tried acting casual, like I get verbally accosted all the time. I''m an expert at this, my body language said. The effect seemed to make the crazy girl both unsure and derisive, but she was too dull to notice. We locked eyes, and I asked her name.


    She blinked several times in surprise but finally said, "Jesse. Jes. Call me Jes."


    "I''m Sebastian. You can call me Bastian. What are you in for?" I asked, trying to be jocular.


    "Ran away when I was fifteen. Been homeless ever since." Her head bobbed, and she glared at me as she said it, daring me to offer advice or condemnation.


    Instead, I asked her about her life. Jes told me when she was twelve, her father gave her meth and then raped her. It went on for years until she ran away. She made friends with a string of sleazy men and kept to herself over the next several years, rapidly losing her grip on sanity.


    She had been an addict since before she knew what the word meant, her life was destroyed by the very person who should have protected her. To compound the injustice of it, the world feared and avoided her. I might have been the first person in weeks to ask her about her day. She didn''t make sense all the time, but I think she was grateful for the company. She needed help, someone to love and take care of her. In a few months, I would see Jes'' picture on a wall and discover that she had died of a heroin overdose.


    Most people look away from poverty. I didn''t have the luxury of looking away. It was my existence. Fortunately for me, I''ve never felt at home. My sense of ''otherness'' worked in my favor on the streets. I wasn''t like them, or so I told myself, so I didn''t stay long or make friends. The few I was friendly toward, I kept at bay. Instead, I spent more time on Castro Street, cruising and meeting people.


    One night I went to a toga party at an acquaintance''s house. Only men attended, and all were nearly nude. "Paper Planes" by M.I.A. was playing over the house speakers, and young men were dancing in the open spaces between furniture.


    I didn''t know anyone there, and I was still shy and soft-spoken, so I kept to the edges and sipped from my red Solo cup, feeling nervous and full of adventure. It wouldn''t be long before someone came up to talk to me, so I watched the dancers and tried to act bored but not too bored.


    Before long, a dashing young man stepped forward to greet me. He was handsome in a way I''d never seen before, with narrow, golden eyes and short, auburn curls.


    "Hi, I''m August," he said and thrust out his hand formally. His voice was low and precise. He wore a toga made of military camouflage material.


    "Hi, I''m Sebastian," I said softly, and my heart skipped when he smiled at me.


    "Are you here with anybody?" he asked.


    "No. I don''t know anyone here. The owner just invited me online. I wasn''t sure I''d come."


    "Well, now you know someone here."


    I blushed and smiled. He scared me, he was handsome and friendly. I so wanted him to like me.


    "Are you here with anyone?" I parroted. I sucked at making small talk, but I knew to ask questions. People love talking about themselves.


    "Yeah, I''m with my boyfriend and our friends," he answered. My smile diminished imperceptibly. "We noticed you over here sitting by yourself, and I thought I''d lend a hand. Come, sit by me."


    He was so gracious, I could hardly refuse. So I followed him to sit on a curved, white, leather couch. Multiple gay boys were sprawled out and nuzzling each other in a way that sent blood rushing to my dick. Introductions were shared, and August sat next to me, his thigh touching my thigh. Many of the men looked me up and down. August''s boyfriend, Travis licked his lips and leaned forward to speak. He was nearing middle age, with a pale, pinched face and a confident voice.


    "So, Sebastian, we were just discussing how Mayor Gavin Newsom signed a bill into effect, and we can get married now. Isn''t that wonderful?"


    "I suppose. I read about it some, but to be honest, it feels weird to me that marriage is our main political issue. From what I''ve seen, Queer communities are crippled by medical expenses, drug addiction, and homelessness. Did you know over 40 percent of the homeless youth in America are Queer? Their families disown them, or they run away, and then they fall through the cracks. Or worse, they''re sent to gay conversion camps, which are effectively torture centers. Why aren''t we focusing our efforts there, instead of on an issue that mostly affects affluent people?"


    Travis blinked and cocked his head to the side as if he heard an unfamiliar noise.


    "I think as you get older, you''ll understand that we''re fighting for dignity. We''re demanding a seat at the table. We can''t fix those issues if we aren''t respected and a part of the decision-making process."


    I flushed with embarrassment. The first thing I said at a party was childish. I sipped my drink and shrank into the couch. Dante, a sharp-dressed young man with luscious black locks and a roguish face, spoke up, "I think I hear what Bastian''s saying. Marriage doesn''t help homeless teenagers."


    "Yes," admitted Travis, his voice rising, "but that''s beside the point. Our fight is about common law. It''s for human dignity and being heard-"


    "Let''s change the subject," loudly interrupted a bleached blonde chubby man who called himself Starr. As he spoke, he caressed the thigh of a nearly unconscious man who rolled his head away and grunted. "Sebastian," he continued, "You''re new here, aren''t you? Where are you from?"


    "Farmville, Washington. I only arrived in San Fran two months ago."


    "Whoa," Dante interjected. "First thing you gotta learn is, nobody says San Fran. It''s San Francisco or The City. SF is acceptable, and Frisco might be okay, depending on who you ask, but never San Fran."


    "Oh," I said meekly. "Thanks for letting me know."


    "No biggie," he smiled, and our eyes locked. "Do you smoke weed?" He asked.


    "I''ve smoked twice before. I like it, but I also kind of don''t.


    "Well, I''ve got some smoke if you want to join me outside."


    "Yeah, okay." My heartbeat jumped and skipped. Dante seemed effortlessly charismatic. His every word and gesture had style. I liked him at once. We went out to the veranda, and I smoked for the third time in my life. My vision was beginning to sway. My fears and inhibitions melted away. Dante and I flirted for a while. I can''t remember what we talked about, but I know I dodged most of his questions. He was so charming and attractive. I wanted him to like me. If he knew the truth about me, he would find me a fraud. I didn''t belong in his world any more than I belonged in Jes'' world. Indeed, I had more in common with her than I did with him.


    When Dante noticed I was being evasive, his questions became more pointed. I was a game to him, a mystery to solve, but I wasn''t having it. When he asked where I lived, I leaned in, kissed him, and said, "your place is closer."


    He toked his joint and looked at me bemusedly. "So eager. You don''t want to wait a little? Aren''t you afraid I won''t respect you in the morning?"


    I thought about it for a moment and took a step toward him, grabbing the joint from his fingers. "I don''t much care either way," I bluffed and puffed. "It''s up to you. I turn into a pumpkin in a few minutes, anyway."


    "How come? You gotta curfew?"


    "Something like that, yeah. I could spend the night over there, or I could spend the night with you. Which would you prefer?"


    He took the joint back and considered me with curiosity and fear. "I just met you. What if you''re an assassin or a spy or something?"


    I laughed. "That is ridiculous. Do I look threatening? What, you wanna frisk me? Pat me down?" I said with a wink.


    He laughed with me. "That might put my mind at ease, yeah."


    So I took a step closer, held his hands, and put them on my chest. "Let me know if you find a wire. I''ll be so embarrassed."


    He grinned nervously and let his hands explore my body, my arms, my back, and finally grab my ass. Dante pulled me in and kissed me right. I felt his erection through his jeans.


    He lived a mile away up a hill. We stopped several times to kiss and grope each other. The sex was fantastic. It was the first time I enjoyed bottoming. All the other times, it was hot but uncomfortable, but with Dante, he fit. It felt great. We did it three times that night and into the morning. In the afterglow, I told him the truth about me. I was afraid he''d move away, but he didn''t.


    In the morning, he woke me with breakfast in bed. Homemade french toast with maple syrup and a side of fruit. I was mystified. Never in my life had someone done such a thing for me, and I fell madly in love with him in that instant, though he never knew it. He showered while I ate and inspected his collection of books. I recognized a few. I knew one from TV, The Audacity of Hope, Barack Obama''s campaign memoir.


    The 2008 US presidential election was in full swing. On the right, John McCain, war veteran, maverick (whatever that meant). On the left, still unfolding, an epic primary battle between the future first Black president versus the future first woman nominated by a major party, a clash of titans, Barack Obama vs Hillary Clinton.


    Political journals, magazines, biographies, and studies were scattered across his desk, coffee table, and bookshelves. Dante was a news junkie. He returned wearing nothing but a towel and a thick mane of chest hair. Noticing my curiosity, he asked, "Have you been following the election?"


    "A little. Not much. Seems everyone is sick of Bush and the Republicans, so whoever the Democrats choose will probably go on to be president. Who do you think will win?"Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Oh, Clinton, definitely," he said with confidence. "All the polls, everyone says the same thing. Obama won a few early states, but Clinton will sweep the western states. She''s got the political influence. It''s all about who you know."


    That sounded right. He was so well-read and mature, though only twenty-nine. I thought he was everything I wanted to be. He knew people. He knew stuff. He read things and brushed his teeth every night and morning, just like you''re supposed to.


    "Anyway, I''ve got a class in an hour," he dropped the towel to the ground and pressed himself against me. "Plenty of time." He kissed me. I leaned away in his arms.


    "I need a shower, too. Plus, I just ate, and I haven''t used the bathroom yet. I''m not ready."


    "That''s okay," he said while bouncing on the balls of his feet, "I cleaned out in the shower. It''s your turn to fuck me."


    I was an insecure top and didn''t last long, but Dante was kind about it. I showered and left, and we didn''t talk for over a year. He ghosted me over text.


    My imagination went into overdrive, offering explanations why he didn''t want me. Why I was unworthy. I would lay in bed for hours with my mind screaming. The only peace I could find was when I closed my eyes and returned to Eden.


    Chapter 3 - Crystal Caverns


    When Lyn woke up, Apple was missing. Lyn searched the usual places to no avail.


    All the workers were downstairs catering to visiting dignitaries. Captain Reynard couldn''t be found either, so Lyn was forced to ask her governess Dina, a mean older woman who knew only basic sign language.


    One might expect the governess of a deaf princess to sign (if not fluently, at least conversationally), but Apple had interpreted for Lyn since she was a baby, so Dina never bothered to improve her sign language.


    Moments such as these made Dina feel inadequate, and Dina was the type to resent others for her own negative emotions, lashing out from a place of resentment.


    Dina understood Lyn was asking for Apple, but she was signing so fast Dina couldn''t understand anything else.


    "Apple''s not here," Dina said while signing ''not here.''


    ''I know she''s not here! I don''t need you to tell me that. I need your help finding her.''


    Dina was getting irritated. The castle had countless interesting and foreign guests in attendance, and she was busy arguing with a child.


    "Go to your room," she ordered while pointing upstairs.


    Lyn became inconsolable. She started screaming, terrorizing the guests and staff until Dina carried her upstairs and locked her in her room.


    Lyn stormed across the carpeted floor like an angry tiger in a cage. She plotted her revenge with ruthless cunning, and when she wasn''t plotting, she howled like a wild wolf cut off from her pack.


    All that changed the instant Apple hopped cutely through the door. Lyn forgot her rage and tears in an instant and rushed to embrace her familiar. Trembling with emotion, Lyn explained how her governess would only sign that Apple was "not here."


    Apple groomed Lyn''s hair with her tiny fingers, nodding along to the story, but when Lyn asked where Apple had been, her familiar was slow to respond. The question confused Apple. She felt guilty but didn''t know why. She replied that Captain Reynard sent her on a mission, but she couldn''t say what it entailed. Being a child, Lyn was accustomed to that answer and didn''t press the issue.


    A pause hung over them as Apple removed a twig from Lyn''s hair. The girl was unwashed from their earlier adventures. Dirt and tree sap covered her hands, arms, and legs. Apple motioned for the girl to bathe, and her little princess marched obediently to the washroom. Apple helped her change in and out of the tub, all while telling Lyn stories. They spent more time laughing and goofing than bathing, but in a blink, they were finished. Party morsels were still being prepared and served downstairs, so Apple arranged for some to be brought up. As they waited, they built a pillow fort next to the window. Delicious foods brought from faraway places and made special for the Perigee Festival were brought to the door. Then together, they read from Captain Reynard''s list of required stories. Occasionally, Lyn would inquire about the text, and they would stop. Apple would explain patiently, utilizing the accumulated knowledge of the Aether to inform her answers, but the stories ended, and their fortress of linens and pillows offered no protection from the coming storm.


    Arthur announced himself and entered the room. Captain Reynard followed him like a shadow. The steward seemed uncharacteristically melancholy, though he wore a brave smile. His duties often kept him from his youngest daughter for days at a time. She ran toward him, with her short, messy hair bouncing wildly. Her face came alight, and she looked just like Emma. Arthur''s heart shattered, and not for the first time. All the moments he devoted to the revolution, he thought, moments wasted, not spent with Lyn. When would they see each other again? Anxiety gripped him, but Arthur was a man with a vision.


    Arthur knelt to face his daughter and brushed her cheek with singular affection. He signed that Lyn would leave tonight with Apple and Captain Reynard. They were to make a game out of it. No one could see them go. It was a secret.


    Lyn was perplexed. Why? she asked.


    Her father signed that Reynard would teach her to use magic, but it had to be done in secret. He told her, the ability to wield magic is a rare gift, and some might see her as a threat. So it would be best to keep her powers hidden until she had mastered them.


    Lyn asked to say goodbye to Morgan and Rafael before they left, but Arthur shook his head. He told her they were busy with matters of state, but she would see them again before long. It would only be for a short time. Lyn was about to press the issue, but Apple hopped forward and slipped her tiny hand into Lyn''s. The simple gesture of solidarity distracted Lyn from her sense of unease. She smiled and shrugged, and it was settled.


    Captain Reynard rushed forward to lift the little one off her feet and twirled her in the air. Lyn let out a goofy, artless laugh that raised everyone''s spirits. Reynard set her down, and together they quickly packed necessities. Lyn wasn''t a material child, so it was up to Apple to plan ahead. As Lyn and her familiar were getting ready to leave, Arthur and Reynard discreetly kissed and said their goodbyes.


    Arthur bid his daughter one final and loving goodbye. Then he turned and left to clear their path to the wine cellar. If they escaped undetected, no one would notice them gone for several hours, giving them ample time to get far away. They waited as Arthur directed the guards elsewhere. When enough time had passed, Reynard lifted Lyn''s travel bags with ease and motioned for the little witch to follow his lead.


    All the lights in the hall were put out, but silvery moonlight shined through the windows and bounced off dark, lacquered wooden walls and floors.


    Lyn felt the castle hum with activity. Her brother''s victory would be cause for celebration for many nights to come. Everyone would be in the great hall and intoxicated. It was an ideal night to make a secret getaway. Reynard stopped in front of a nondescript door, reached into his bag, and removed a key. He unlocked the door and opened it, motioning for Lyn to step through.


    She looked in and saw stairs descending into pitch blackness. Lyn''s heart quickened with excitement, and for the first time that night, fear. She pulled Apple down from her shoulder and held her close, taking comfort in her warmth and fur. Apple, in return, nuzzled her head against Lyn''s neck. She stepped slowly through the door, and Reynard followed and locked it behind them in a single graceful movement. Lyn didn''t see it because she was in complete darkness.


    A fearful noise rose in Lyn''s chest, not a scream so much as a whine, when suddenly, a spark of light swirled and coalesced into a ball of fire, illuminating the stairway. Reynard had summoned fire using magic! The fireball hovered elegantly over Reynard''s outstretched hand. Lyn was so impressed, she stifled her fears. She would learn this magic, she told herself, and she will not be afraid. Slowly, the fireball began to float downstairs, and they followed it.


    The stairs spiraled downward on and on. Lyn had no idea how far beneath the main floor they were. Her feet and shins were sore. She glanced behind to make sure Apple was close by. Eventually, the stairs bottomed out and opened into a large room without any windows. Reynard concentrated. The air around him radiated like air above a fire. The fireball grew brighter, like a little sun, illuminating a wine cellar. Fully stocked wine racks lined the walls alongside enormous wooden casks. The space was filled with barrels of wines and meads. Stewards of Castle Moondial must have been aging wine for generations.


    But Reynard wasn''t interested in the wine. He led them across the room with clear intention and stopped in front of the largest cask in the cellar, a massive oaken barrel. It touched the ceiling and was as wide as it was tall. Smaller barrels were stacked on shelves on either side of it. Reynard ran his hands along the side of the barrel until he found a groove, then pushed and pulled something until the barrel swung open like a door. The inside was empty, but on the floor was a small hole that opened to a narrow downward tunnel. It was large enough for Lyn to crawl through easily, but Reynard had to tie their luggage to his leg and squeeze through. Apple closed the barrel behind them and followed down the hole.


    As she crawled on her knees, Lyn wondered if it was morning yet. She had no idea how long they''d been descending. Dina would notice she was missing by morning. Lyn thought of her brother and sister, Raf and Morgan. Would they miss her? Would they hate her for not saying goodbye? The stone scraped her knees unforgivingly, and she felt tired and miserable. She looked up and saw the little sun float into a great empty room.


    Lyn squeezed through one last crevice and stumbled onto stone. Reynard and Apple followed, and together, they looked out into a darkness so vast it left them silent. The idea of disturbing anything slumbering in the dark filled Lyn with dread.


    Once more, the air around Reynard rippled, and his features seemed to blur and lose their detail. He fell to one knee and took several large breaths, but the ball of light grew brighter, and as it rose and floated forward, they looked out into an enormous cave system. It was larger than anything Lyn had seen before. Larger than Castle Moondial. Larger even than the cliff that Castle Moondial was built on. They had descended deeper than the shoreline of Crescent, under the ocean itself. The caves went on for days and days. The magnitude of the space settled on them as Reynard recovered his energy.


    The captain decided it would be best to rest before continuing. He dimmed the light to conserve energy and pulled out some water, nuts, and jerky from his pack. By the time they finished eating and making water, their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and details of the cavern came into focus. Above them, thousands of glowworms twinkled like starlight in the dark. Giant crystal formations covered the cave walls, refracting light cast by the glowworms.


    They began their descent into the sparkling darkness, Reynard leading the way. Apple and Lyn walked side by side. It was the farthest Lyn had ever been from Castle Moondial. Her father loved her, but he treated her like a fragile thing like she was disabled. She resented it. Morgan was the only person who never made Lyn feel different or inadequate. By now, father would have told Morgan that she was gone. Would she miss her, Lyn wondered? She tried to put those thoughts aside. Lyn would learn to control magic, and no one would ever look at her with pity again. They would look at her with fear and awe. The thought made her brave.


    They hiked past towering crystal columns the size of ancient redwood trees. Even in the darkness, everything seemed to sparkle in rainbow colors. Buzzing insects flew by them at frantic intervals, drawn to Reynard''s firelight. More than once, Lyn screamed as a flying creature swooped down to devour a bug that flew too close. They passed a crystal column near enough to inspect it. Enormous green and purple phosphorescent mushrooms grew on the base and surface of the column. Lyn reached out to touch it, but Captain Reynard grabbed her arm forcefully and pulled her back from it.


    ''That would burn the flesh off your bones,'' Apple interpreted for the captain. ''The crystals were formed by acid. Mushrooms grow on the crystals. Bacteria feed on the mushrooms and secrete more acid, and insects eat the bacteria.'' Lyn leaned in and saw drops of dew-like liquid on the mushrooms fall to the cave floor and roll to flow into a small stream. They followed the acid stream for what felt like half a day. When they stopped to rest, the stream had become a river. More than once, Lyn saw translucent silvery crabs leap from the acid river to battle and devour cat-sized, roach-like insects.


    They stopped for a lunch of nuts and dried fruits, and when they were finished, Apple jumped into Reynard''s arms and interpreted his words for Lyn:


    ''It''s time to begin your lessons.''


    In a snap, Lyn was at silent, rapt attention. Reynard smiled and continued. ''Before you can use magic, you need to know what it is, where it comes from, and what it isn''t.


    ''The first thing to understand is that magic doesn''t come from nothing. It can''t create something out of nothing. The energy used to cast the spell has to come from somewhere. Witches and wiccans can either use their own quintessence, or they can use external mana. Both these options have risks, costs, and limitations.


    ''When you turned the lights up yesterday in the hall, you were using your quintessence; and as you experienced, eventually you run out, and you''re left exhausted. If you blunder a too-costly spell in battle, it''ll be your last mistake. That''s why it''s vital to know your limits.


    ''We''re going to use the other method: harvesting and harnessing the mana from our surroundings. This cave is teeming with life and potential, but even that has limits. Different environments have different properties, which determine what kinds of spells you can cast. If you draw too much mana from your environment, you can leave it barren and lifeless. Stones and minerals are among the safest mana sources, but natural objects have a slow yield. It can be decades or even centuries until a mineral vein refreshes its mana potential, which brings us to the next law of magic: everything has potential. Some things have more potential than others, but everything can be subject to change. How much potential a thing has depends on its environment and its position in that environment. For example, the glowworms hanging above us have great potential. At any given moment, any one of them could catch a fly or a bird in their traps. Or their grip could slip, and they could fall to the ground or into the acid. Or they could mate. Possibilities increase potential. The more possibilities, the more mana it can yield; in turn, the more powerful spells you can cast.


    ''But as I said before, there are limits and risks. You''re constrained by the potential in your immediate vicinity, and if you extract all the potential from something living, you''ll kill it. That should be avoided for several reasons that you will come to understand.


    ''For now, I want to close your eyes and imagine your mind opening and expanding. I want you to reach out and feel for the energy around you. Don''t worry if you don''t find it at first; it takes time and meditation. Clear your mind and surrender to a single thought. Concentrate on my firelight, and replicate it if you can. Do it now.''


    Lyn closed her eyes and reached out with her mind for Reynard''s firelight, but she wasn''t sure. She opened her eyes a couple times to see if anything happened, but Apple translated that Lyn needed to be calm and surrender to the cave. Feel the cave. She looked around for things to feel and saw a giant phosphorescent mushroom not far away. Lyn reached out for it, and she thought she felt something tangible. Her mind floated up to the glowworms suspended like twinkling, deadly pearls, and she sensed them, too. Then she concentrated on Captain Reynard''s firelight. She imagined pulling them to her and spinning a light of her own. A strange sensation took over Lyn, like warm water going down, but she didn''t stop or open her eyes. She felt depleted, but something else, too: terrible fear and pain. Glowworms fell dead from the ceiling to land on her arms and in her hair. She opened her eyes to cry out and saw that the mushroom she had sensed earlier was shriveled and dark. Bugs were dead on the ground beneath it and all around. Lyn even saw a dead bird. Its skin was pale and transparent. Its feathers were few, and it had no eyes. Instead, it had large ear-like horns where eyes would typically be. Lyn started to cry because she felt them die. She felt their fear and confusion, and it hurt. But shining above her, an orb swirled with colors of the lives she put out: a small sphere of purple, fire red, silver, and white. Lyn felt tired.


    Captain Reynard spoke again, and Apple interpreted:


    ''That was an excellent first effort. You took a lot of mana from living sources, but now you know why it''s better to avoid those sources. To harvest mana from living things, you have to feel them and feel what they feel. Regularly experiencing that kind of fear and pain does harm to a person''s mind. That''s why, if one does harvest mana from the living, it''s best to use restraint and moderation. Trust and consent make all the difference. Now I want you to concentrate on the nonliving sources. It''s harder, but there are ways to make it easier.


    ''Objects in motion have more energy than objects at rest. Try to concentrate on the river. It''s constantly moving. Imagine yourself grabbing hold of the river and threading it into your magelight. The river will make it brighter.''


    Lyn did as she was instructed and felt for the river. Concentrating on her light, she reached out and pulled. This time, she didn''t pull so hard all at once. Again, she felt something move through her, but it didn''t hurt this time. She opened her eyes and saw that her light was now a swirling orb of turquoise, fire red, purple, silver, and white, and larger than the captain''s formidable head. It shined beautifully in the dark, sparkling cavern. Captain Reynard smiled and dropped Apple. He turned, walked to a nearby crystal stalagmite, and broke off a crystal the size of his finger. Reynard returned and held up his hand toward Lyn''s magelight. He pulled the light into the crystal and handed it to Lyn. It shined brightly.


    Apple translated:


    ''Some objects can store mana, and crystals make excellent vessels. Even though you used mana from outside yourself, harnessing that mana still exacts a toll. It gets easier. With practice, your stamina will increase. Let''s rest for a while, and we''ll continue moving after you nap. All the energy you harvested today is stored in this crystal, and if you conserve it wisely, you can use this mana for a long time.''


    Lyn accepted the gift with a wide smile, grateful to take a nap. She put the crystal in her pocket, laid down, closed her eyes, and was out like a light.

 Chapter 4 - Dani & Nathan - The Wasp

    August 2008 - Dani & Nathan


    I stayed at Lark-Inn Shelter for more than two months. I worked hard and kept to myself, and eventually, my application was accepted by Castro Youth Housing, a program that provided transitional housing for homeless Queer youth. They moved me into an SRO, a single square room, in an old building with shared bathrooms on each floor. The walls were yellow from years of cigarette smoke. The carpet was a deep red that clashed with faded, green molding, but it was a warm space, and it was mine.


    It took months before Larkin could afford to hire new caseworkers, but eventually, I was assigned one by the name of Dani. It was her job to counsel me and advocate on my behalf if necessary, and I thought she was the neatest person ever. She had more facial hair than I had, with short dark hair, glasses, and several tattoos. Her breasts were so tightly bound they were almost unnoticeable.


    "Let''s get to know each other," she smiled warmly when we met, and her voice conveyed professional compassion. I admired her right away.


    "What do you want to know?" I shrugged.


    "What do you want to do with your life?" She inquired.


    I pondered the question and answered, "I used to want to be a therapist because people are fascinating, and I like helping people. But the more I think about it, the less I want to listen to people complain all day. Some folks are great, and I''m sure that would be rewarding, but most people are awful. I don''t know how you do it.


    "These days, I want to be an author. I''ve got this fantasy story I''ve been working on for a few years. But I''m not good enough yet. I need to go to college and learn how to write properly."


    "You want to go to college?"


    "Yeah! Very much. I feel like I don''t know anything. The other day, I was at a party, and these guys were talking politics, and I made a total ass out of myself. I feel like an idiot. I can''t speak my mind because I don''t know anything. But I want to learn, and I want to be better."


    "That''s great. That''s really great. We can work on your application for City College of San Francisco. It''s a great school. But I read you''ve been in California for only five months, is that right?"


    "Yeah," I said. "Is that a problem?" Her sympathetic face looked me up and down.


    "Out-of-state tuition is thousands of dollars more a semester. Financial aid exists, but it runs out. If you''re paying out-of-state tuition, your aid will run out before even getting an Associate''s Degree. You''re better off waiting a year before enrolling." I must have looked disappointed because she said, "That just gives you more time to prepare. Let''s get back to you."


    "Are you trying to shrink me?"


    "Well, I''m not trying to bullshit you, Sebastian. I read your application. Quite frankly, based on the two pages you provided, I''m in awe; but I think you''ll have some emotional baggage to sort through, and that''s why I''m here. Sometimes, when we''re in the muck of our own problems, we lose sight of the big picture. An impartial third party can be helpful to bounce ideas off of. I want you to think of me as a resource and this as a safe space. I''m not going to judge you or condemn you. That''s not my job. My job is to help in whatever ways you need."


    I considered her for a moment in silence.


    "We can work up to it," she said with a smile. "In the meantime, let''s start with the basics. Where is your family, and why are you here?"


    I scratched my chest absentmindedly and sighed. "My parents divorced when I was three. My dad was more of a sperm donor. Last I heard, he has a replacement family, and they all live in Oklahoma. I don''t know much about him or his family.


    My mom still lives in Washington. We''re in contact, but we don''t talk often. It wouldn''t make sense if I just blurted out the whys. I''ll have to start at the beginning¡­"


    My Gramma Nora was the daughter of Irish and Polish immigrant families escaping the potato famine and WWII, respectively. She went to school and got an engineering job at Boeing, where she met Grampa, and they had 3 children. Grampa left Gramma for another woman when Mom was 8, but Gramma got the house. Nora was our anchor, sometimes brutal, but she loved us immensely. My mom Patsy hated her.


    Patsy once told me she felt like the black sheep of the family; the eldest child, but not a son; not the smartest, not the favorite, always overlooked and underappreciated. She said all she ever wanted was to be a mother, to have someone to love unreservedly and who loved her singularly.


    Patsy was 21 when she gave birth to Tom, my older brother. This was in 1975. Tom''s father wanted nothing to do with her or the baby. Gramma and Grampa were both super Catholic, so Patsy and her bastard baby were ostracized. Patsy took the baby and ran away to California.


    That''s where my parents met in 1984. Patsy was 28, raising Tom on her own. She found work cleaning hotels and houses. John was 24 and working at a mortuary. He was some kind of shaman, dressed all in black; and leaning into his Native ancestry, with a long black ponytail. They had a love affair and honeymooned in San Francisco.


    Tom adored John. Like all abandoned boys, Tom desperately wanted a father figure. John was strong and tall, warm, with a generous nature. So when Patsy got pregnant again, everyone was elated.


    But on August 8, 1985, Patsy gave birth to a stillborn girl they named Anna. The family was devastated. Patsy''s postpartum depression was unbearable. They moved to Washington so Patsy could be with her family. It wasn''t long before they tried again; this time, it stuck.


    Morgan was born in July 1986, and she was the darling of John''s eyes. They found happiness again but couldn''t stay settled, moving to Salt Lake City for a year, but they didn''t like it. Tom was picking fights in school and caught stealing electronics. They tried Washington again, but Tom was becoming more and more unruly. Their marriage became strained. Patsy hoped a son might fix it.


    And on August 8, 1988, I was born, but something was wrong. The umbilical cord was wrapped around my throat, and my heart had stopped. The doctors tore into Patsy to retrieve me in time to zap me back to life; meanwhile, Patsy was terrified and in a lot of pain. Due to the circumstances, my birth was a cause for mixed emotions. Patsy was bedridden for months, so they moved again. This time to Oklahoma to live with John''s mom.


    Their marriage worsened. When Jude was born in 1991, John didn''t believe he was the father. They divorced later that year. Patsy took the 3 kids to live with Gramma in Washington. John stayed in Oklahoma. I was three when this went down. Consequently, I don''t know my dad very well.


    A few times, Morgan and I would fly to live with John in Oklahoma, but Jude stayed with Patsy. Then visits became fewer and fewer until they stopped entirely. I haven''t heard from my dad in several years.


    It was Morgan who raised me. She taught me how to ride a bike. She convinced me to join the JROTC, Drill Team, and the Rifle Squad. We were always together. She looked out for me, and I did whatever she told me to do. Gramma called us Irish twins.


    "Tell you the truth, my early childhood wasn''t so bad. I mean, we were always moving. I went to a new school at least every other year. Patsy was stoned all day, every day, but we never starved. We didn''t always eat well, but we never starved," I finished.


    Dani took a moment to absorb my story and be sure I was finished telling it.


    She chuckled. "I can see why you want to be a writer. Tell me about the fantasy story you mentioned earlier. You said it was set in Eden. Is God a character?"


    Dani was probably only feigning interest because that''s her job, but I was happy to talk about it anyway.


    "Not yet," I answered. "In my story, God is the consciousness of the universe. In the beginning, some stars randomly aligned in complex cluster formations, like cosmic ganglia, and that''s how the universe became cognizant. Sometime after the Big Bang, God set about discovering Itself and testing its abilities. The first things God made were Heaven and the angels. They were perfect and subservient but soon became tedious, so next, God made Eden. Molding Adam and Lilith from clay, God gave them free will because God was curious. It was an experiment; to see how life reacts to freedom. Could free will be trusted?


    "The first test was simple: would they eat a thing God told them not to eat? That went well. Neither Adam nor Lilith ate the forbidden fruit. But Lilith surprised God by refusing to continue the experiment. She wouldn''t have Adam''s kids. That was humanity''s first defiance, so God exiled Lilith to the moon.


    "God made Eve, and the experiment continued. When Adam and Eve failed the test, God cursed them with Original Sin but stuck around for a few centuries to watch the drama unfold, eventually leaving to explore the limits of the universe. Since the universe is limitless, God will spend eternity discovering Itself.


    "God isn''t omnipotent or omnipresent. God''s mind wanders the universe. God can be anywhere with a thought but can''t be in all places at once, any more than we can think of everything at the same time. When God isn''t thinking about Eden or Heaven or Nod, God isn''t there. Also, God can''t stop or reverse the flow of time. God is the universe; therefore, God operates along natural laws. God can''t leave the universe, and the universe is space-time. God can bend and travel space-time but can''t escape; any more than you could escape your spine. There are infinite universes, but God is this universe."


    "That''s interesting. Send me anything you''re working on if you like," Dani said. "But I''m afraid we''re out of time today." I saw that she was right.


    "Okay. Thanks for listening to me ramble on for an hour," I said.


    "No, thank you. You shared your world with me. That''s why I do this. It was a privilege. Let''s meet again once a week for as long as you''re in the program."


    I shook her hand and committed to meeting every week. When I left her office, I felt lighter, as if talking to someone had lifted a real weight off. I was in such a good mood I decided it was time to go out and meet someone.


    One of the things I came to understand about my predicament was if I put on a button-down shirt and slacks, I could blend in social circles that weren''t mine. I was young, white, and clean-shaven. No one expected me to be homeless or to have a job in the Tenderloin cashing SSI checks.


    Whenever I needed a haircut, I went online for a hookup and searched for someone with clippers. Half my paychecks went into maintaining the illusion that I wasn''t destitute, buying new clothes and shoes. I felt like a super spy, infiltrating upper-middle-class houses, pretending I was one of them, mimicking their vocal patterns and vocabulary, and adopting their habits and behaviors.


    But I wasn''t as good an actor as I thought I was. People could perceive something off about me: my furtive omissions, evasive answers to common questions, the worn edges of my clothes, the way I didn''t recoil when a dirty homeless person came into my personal space asking for money, that I often gave what change I had. No doubt, several oddities gave me away. I became an object of speculation and mystery, and I felt all the more powerful for it, but it left me more lonely than I''d ever been. No one knew how to relate to me, and I didn''t know how to let them. I had torn down the walls I''d built to hide my sexuality and insecurities, only to build fresh new ones.


    Maybe that''s why I found myself attracted to outcasts, Deaf people, Poz guys, trans folks, and POC. I figured they must have felt as alien and removed from mainstream society as I felt, or more, and despite my self-imposed isolation, I desperately wanted a place to belong, to have a family.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    So it shouldn''t be surprising that I found August so attractive. He was positive, Portuguese and Puerto Rican, and the same age as me. We met up for pizza, and he was my first real friend. He had a stoic charm, great posture, head high, shoulders back, and a proud, protective nature. He trained his voice to be deeper than it would casually be. The habit was so ingrained he seldom spoke above a low baritone, except when drunk. He demanded that he pay for dinner, and I didn''t argue because every little bit helped.


    We talked about his ex, Travis, and August told me, toxic people will try to control you. When they can''t control you, they try to control the narrative about you by spreading lies and rumors. But if you''re consistent and don''t play their game, their narrative fails because others will see the truth. If someone can''t or won''t see the truth, they probably aren''t worth your time, anyway.


    After our date, he invited me to go home with him. I said yes.


    August was roommates with a middle-aged gay named Nathan. Nathan was a funny, irascible curmudgeon who owned a technical consulting firm; so their house was lavish, futuristic, and well-maintained by Latin house cleaners. Nathan had been in the scene for over two decades and knew Travis. When Travis and August broke up, August got Nathan in the divorce.


    Nathan was a bitter queen who pushed people away. August was a simple, stoic nihilist, so they got along great, apart from the shouting matches Nathan usually instigated. He showed his affection by picking fights and criticizing. He was a complex, insightful, insecure man, and I found him fascinating.


    As I mentioned, August and I didn''t have all that much in common. It wasn''t long before we transitioned from lovers to friends with the occasional benefit. Though we fought several times over the years, he became one of my most cherished friends. We rarely saw eye-to-eye on anything, but we learned to value our differences, and I''ll forever be grateful for his friendship and brotherhood.


    I also got close to Nathan. It wasn''t a sexual relationship, but Nathan had a foot fetish, and I took my shoes off at the door. He always treated me like a person, never like a sex object, so I didn''t care what he fantasized about. He took an interest in me as a friend, and despite his bitterness and penchant for picking fights over insignificant nonsense, he was always gracious and offered sound (usually unsolicited) advice regarding my life''s petty dramas. Eventually, Nathan and I had a falling out. His need for conflict became exhausting and painful, and I moved on with my life, but for a couple years, I spent more time at their home than mine. They were my gay family, and Nathan was the big brother I didn''t know I needed.


    Nathan even helped me commit fraud. At least, I think it was fraud. It was definitely against the rules. I was eager to enroll in college but wasn''t yet a Californian citizen. Out-of-state tuition cost thousands, so Nathan helped me by altering his utility bill to make it look like I''d been living with him since 2006.


    I learned that college, too, had been a victim of harsh austerity measures. Classes had been cut in half. Teachers had been laid off. Nonessential departments were being merged and subsumed by major departments. Every class necessary for my major was capped early, and add-ons were admitted based on seniority. Since it was my first semester in college, thousands of students with seniority were vying for the same classes as me. So I had no realistic chance of getting into the classes I needed. I would have to wait until next year and hope my position in the queue advanced enough, or so I thought.


    When I mentioned my predicament to Nathan, he said it was possible to log onto the college website and alter the text so my registration date looked earlier than it was. I still remember the conversation with Nathan when he brought it up. We were sitting in his living room. "Dragons" by Caravan Palace was playing over the sound system. He said he could hack the site, but then he tried to talk me out of it. As I said before, Nathan liked to argue for the sake of arguing.


    He said, "You realize, by doing this, you''re robbing someone else of the opportunity to take this class this semester. This isn''t like before when you just wanted in the door; that didn''t hurt anyone. This time, you''re taking someone else''s seat. Before I help you do this, tell me, how do you justify it?"


    "Well, this whole system is bogus. It shouldn''t be like this at all. If someone wants to better themselves, it shouldn''t be a mad struggle to climb on top of others. I just want to learn."


    "Now you''re rationalizing. It doesn''t matter whether or not the system ''should'' or ''shouldn''t'' anything. It is. This is the system, and you agreed to it when you enrolled. Now you want to break the rules and push someone else down the ladder, someone more deserving than you."


    "What makes them more deserving? Because they had the good fortune to enroll before the housing market collapsed? That doesn''t make them worthy; it just makes them lucky."


    "You''re still rationalizing. None of that matters. Fact is, if I do this and you get away with it, you''re taking someone else''s spot. What makes that okay?"


    "It''s not okay! It''s messed up, but I don''t want to be homeless anymore. I''m not proud of it, but I''ll do what I have to do to learn. I''m sorry to whomever for taking their spot, but they''ll be with twenty other students who get turned away, and I won''t be one of them. Whoever it is will still be able to enroll in other classes."


    "You don''t know that. You don''t know how desperately they might need this class or what else they have going outside of it. What if you set someone back and they have no backup?"


    "Then I''m sorry for that, too. I don''t want to hurt anyone, and I''m not happy it''s a matter of them or me. All I can say is I want to learn, so I can be a better person and get out of homelessness. I won''t feel guilty about that."


    Since the teachers only required a printout of the webpage with a registration date, I successfully lied my way into Advanced English, Intro to Psychology, Biological Psychology, Beginner Piano, and Musicianship. Once enrolled, I aced every class.


    After my first semester, I stopped forging my registration date and applied for classes with everyone else. I figured with a 4.0 GPA, I would be eligible for more classes than the previous semester, and I got into several classes. I was turned away several times, too. But with every new semester, my GPA stayed high, so my class eligibility increased. I discovered that I loved college. I loved the challenge and intellectual stimulation. I loved making myself think in new and strange ways to adapt to different teachers and teaching styles. I made money tutoring students and loved every minute of it. I loved teaching as much as I loved learning. Had my financial aid not run out, I probably would have stayed in academia.


    I changed majors so many times I lost count. But throughout my college experience, I kept returning to English and Creative Writing classes. Whenever possible, I turned in chapters from my fantasy story, getting help from countless teachers over the years, for which I am forever grateful.


    Chapter 4 - The Wasp


    Arthur Avalyn poured two more drinks, purple wine with honey and ginger. Burning wood sparked and crackled in the stone fireplace, filling Arthur''s office with hypnotic warmth and the illusion of safety.


    Arthur gave Milo Meiori a glass and sank into his armchair with satisfaction.


    "To your son," Milo toasted, "and his unforgettable victory."


    He raised his glass and rejoined, "To both our children! May their futures be bright!" They drank as one. Arthur lifted the cover of a wooden box on a table between their chairs, retrieving two cigars. A citrus aroma permeated the space. Arthur clipped each cigar and gave one to Milo.


    The retired Steward of Lona was older than Arthur by a decade. Milo''s wife Talia had died in childbirth a few months before Emma. When Arthur lost Emma, it was Milo that understood him best.


    Milo was glancing sideways at Arthur like a man afraid to ask.


    "Out with it, man," Arthur prodded with a grin.


    "About our children''s futures..." Milo said sheepishly. "I heard a rumor Adam wants new leadership for Vulpex. A single steward with four islands. And I heard he''s looking at Rafael."


    "Where did you hear this rumor?" Arthur leaned back in his chair and flicked his cigar.


    "Don''t fence with me. I saw that Good Brother with you at the tourney, and again last night, he set your son to task after a murderer... Is it true?"


    Billowing grey smoke was Arthur''s answer, "So he says."


    Milo appeared at once annoyed and strangely triumphant. He leaned back in his seat and stared into the fire, finally, tragically resigned. A mess of emotions flashed across Milo''s entire being, but Arthur interpreted only a few. It left him unsettled.


    "Are you angry? You gave the stewardship to Haven years ago. Surely you don''t miss it? Or are you upset that Haven wasn''t considered first?"


    "No, nothing like that," Milo said quickly. "I''m worried for you. I know you have secrets--don''t worry--they''re still yours... We''ve been friends all your life, Arthur. Don''t think I haven''t seen things, heard things. I noticed your captain disappeared. With greater authority comes greater scrutiny." Milo had moved to stand close to the fire. He turned and gestured toward the painting over Arthur''s desk, ''Wrath of Godfather.''


    "I''ve always hated that painting," he said. "It''s morbid. I was at sea when he destroyed Inari. It haunts me to this day. And you''ve got the Flood of Exile hanging in your office. Inari was an island... How many died when Adam sank half a continent? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? There were five Vulpen Islands. Have you considered you might be risking the four that remain?"


    Arthur was still. "What do you think you know?"


    "I know nothing! I''ve always known nothing, like this conversation never happened..." He turned from Arthur to look out the window. "But we both know how this plays out. Rafael will be forced to marry some Garden girl. Meanwhile, the Church will expand their influence with a unified legal system. How long do you think you can smuggle fae under the nose of scrutiny?"


    Arthur was confused. "What are you talking about?" Milo turned to face him, silhouetted by the setting sun, with clouds of pink and gold and blue and fiery red.


    "The Fae Remnants. Whispers, mostly heard on the wind. They''re smuggling aboard ships to Vulpex. Someone got clumsy, and now everybody knows. No doubt, that''s why Adam took such a sudden interest."


    Arthur had no idea. "I''ve never heard of any Fae Remnants. You and your rumors. Where do you hear such things?"


    "Familiars, Arthur, they''re good for more than finger-speaking. Mine tells me the news and wakes me in the morning with tea. They know everything any familiar ever learned. Get with the times, man... If you''re not smuggling the fae, what''s really going on?"


    Not for the first time, Arthur wanted to tell Milo everything. He would have confessed years ago, but Reynard objected. But they needed allies. They would need all the help they could muster. Arthur finished his drink and walked to lean on his desk, his cigar still on the arm table. He poured himself another glass for courage.


    "Captain Reynard is secretly training Lyn to harness magic," he said with pride. "I never heard of these Remnants before tonight, but I assure you, finding them is now my highest priority."


    Milo seemed deflated and somehow relieved, responding, "That''s great news. Adam will give her a good life-"


    "Adam will never find out. If he finds out she''s got power, he''ll take her to Garden. He''ll give her away, like some thing, like he did to her mother. She''ll be alone. I will not let that happen to her."


    "It''s not so bad. I hear from Nat once a month. She likes it there. It''s beautiful. She''s free to roam."


    "She''s not free. She''s a gestation pod for more of Adam''s magic babies."


    "No one is entirely free to do as they wish. You''re free to live because you knelt. You''re free to rule Crescent because you serve Adam. Even if Adam never found Vulpex, you''d still be constrained by the laws of this land. You romanticize freedom. It doesn''t exist. You want to ''liberate'' people? From what? Since Adam took control, the church eradicated every major disease. The hungry are fed. Don''t pretend you haven''t loved all these fat tourists dropping gems all over your island."


    "Yes, there''s order and plenty. At what cost? He slaughtered our families, Milo. He killed the firefox. Haven''t you dreamt of justice?"


    There it was. An opening. A secret desire flashed in Milo''s eyes, and also anger.


    "Of course, I dream of it! For thirty years, I''ve dreamt of it, alongside nightmares of that!" Milo pointed at the ''Wrath of Godfather.'' "He''s too powerful! He can''t be stopped!"


    "That''s not true."


    Neither of them moved or breathed. Milo stared at him intensely.


    "Don''t be daft. He''s a god. The entire planet worships Him."


    "Adam is only a man. The power he wields, he stole from five ikons! He killed them and bound their souls to his regalia! Look at the picture. You can see them in detail: the crown, the gauntlets, the sword, and the belt. You remember them. Those are the source of his power! Separate him from those, and he can be killed. He''s not God."


    Milo''s eyes opened in shock. His face displayed comprehension at first, then dread, as another voice, barely a whisper, chittering and hissing, said, "I''ve heard enough."


    The door to Arthur''s office opened with a bang. Brother Timothy stood in the frame, still smiling. He stepped into the room and the door shut behind him. A mean-looking wasp flew out from under Milo''s chair to land on Timothy''s shoulder. His familiar. A moan escaped Arthur. Milo was a tapestry of guilt and sorrow. Timothy drank it all in with a grin.


    The wasp spoke first. "Arthur Avalyn, Steward of Crescent, for the crimes of heresy and attempted treason, I sentence you and your line to death."


    Arthur didn''t think. He didn''t hesitate. His arms reached for the lamp on his desk and threw himself at Timothy. He needed to die. Arthur had to warn his children. Fear and adrenaline made him quick. Timothy stood calmly. But the fear driving Arthur was snuffed out by dread when Arthur saw Timothy''s smile. As the base of the lamp collided with Timothy''s temple, his smile became genuine and sinister, not the mechanical one worn earlier; this was the grin of a winner. Timothy''s eyes were wide with excitement, and was that relief? As his body fell to the ground, a worried pause overtook Arthur. Hesitantly, he moved toward the door. But he wouldn''t get far.


    A dark grey smoking form rose out of Timothy''s twitching body. It looked at Arthur. He ran like a mouse from a cat, the most fearsome, the image of death, with eyes that glow like rings in the dark, bearing swiftly upon its morsel.


    It disappeared into Arthur''s body, who stood limply for a moment, lurched and seized, and finally collapsed upon the floor.


    Milo watched it all grimly. At last, his shoulders fell, and he hunched over Arthur''s desk.


    The wasp flew from Timothy''s body to land gently upon Arthur''s face, locked in horror and despair, staring out at nothing as Timothy''s blood spread across the floor.

 Chapter 5 - Humdrum Part 1 - Travis - Community - Rowan

    January 2009 - Humdrum Part 1


    One day, I went on an alternate-reality adventure to find a missing girl.


    As I mentioned earlier, Nathan was smarter than the average bear, lived in San Francisco nearly all his life, and knew quite a few of the city''s secrets.


    Secrets like the Humdrum Institute.


    On a blue, sunny day, Nathan sent me an enigmatic text message to meet him in the lobby of a building in the financial district. I don''t remember which building. Almost all the buildings downtown look the same. Fifty stories of dark glass windows and steel.


    I found Nathan sitting on a couch with August and a young man I''d never met. Despite not being conventionally attractive, Nathan had a way of meeting attractive twinks. He was short, had a belly, and a nasally voice, but he was an intelligent, decent human with a sharp wit. He usually treated people with kindness and respect. That was probably his secret. Sometimes pretty young men found Nathan attractive. Other times, they became friends, and Nathan liked introducing me to his new friends.


    "Hi," I greeted August, Nathan, and the new guy at once. "I''m Sebastian," I said, extending my hand to him.


    He blushed, smiled warmly, and held my hand softly. I felt instantly safe with him.


    "I''m Rufio." He was light brown, with dark hair, my height, and somewhere between cute, sexy, and beautiful.


    "Okay, now that''s over, everyone''s here," Nathan complained, looking at me because I was five minutes late. "Let''s get going. To the elevators."


    We stepped off onto the 18th floor. A woman sat behind a desk in a dark corner of the building. Nathan stepped forward as the leader of our expedition and asked her for the key to the Humdrum Institute. She reached into her desk, pulled out a small wooden map attached to a keychain, and handed it to us without a word. We huddled for a moment to decipher the map and, when we reached agreement, set out to find the X.


    X turned out to be a room designed like a 1960s business office. Curious timepieces and plants filled the shelves. As soon as the door shut behind us, the television turned on, first to static, then to flickering images of esoterica. Meanwhile, a velvety smooth disembodied voice filled the room.


    "Welcome to the Humdrum Institute. Simply by coming here, you have taken your first steps on your journey to discover the truth. The truth is: all around us, a secret war is being waged between the Cult of Nonchalance and myself and my colleagues at the Humdrum Institute. I would explain more, but these secrets are too dangerous to tell here like this. Besides, you wouldn''t believe me. You''ll have to see for yourself to believe.


    "To aid you on your journey, please open the top drawer of the curio encasing the crystal dragon; there, you will find several maps and sheets for information. Please fill out the forms. Then, each of you, take a map and return the key to Aubrey at the desk. Don''t speak to her or anyone else until you leave the building.


    "The guards on the ground floor lobby are Nonchalant spies. Surely they will have alerted the others of your presence and will try to follow you. Shake them off. Don''t use the elevator. Instead, leave through the fire escape. I will shut off the alarm for the next 5 minutes. Once you''re outside in the alley, consult the maps. The Nonchalant are on their way to capture you! Hurry now! Go!"


    We hurried silently out, returned the key to Aubrey while enacting Mission Impossible poses, and stepped out onto the 18th-floor fire escape. Rufio was scared of heights, which I found adorable in that moment, so I distracted him with questions.


    "Where are you from?" I asked him.


    "A suburb of Los Angeles. My family emigrated from Mexico, so I would be born in the US," he said.


    "Do you speak Spanish?" August asked, and Rufio shook his head.


    "No, my parents didn''t speak Spanish at home. They said I wouldn''t need it. Sometimes my abuelos spoke Spanish, but they wanted me to grow up all-American, so they never spoke Spanish to me."


    "That''s sad," I said. "I wish I grew up bilingual." Rufio and I held eyes briefly, and there was a connection. By the time we reached the ground, Rufio and I were inseparable. Together.


    For hours, we journeyed through the financial district and into Chinatown, gathering and deciphering clues to yield a jumbled warning: ''Find Eve. Beware the Nonchalant! They have infiltrated every level of government and society, and they will stop at nothing to keep secret the entrance and nature of Elsewhere.''


    "That''s ominous," August concluded as he carved his initials into a nearby tree. "Now that we know they exist, they''re out to get us, is that it? Way to screw us over, Humdrum. Telling us put us in danger!"


    Nathan stayed quiet through most of the day''s exploits. He''d been this far before, but the entire story took several days, and he''d never gone past the first chapter. Rather than give the answers away, he let us decipher the clues ourselves.


    Since Nathan was staying silent, August and I tussled over team leader. He wanted to be in charge, but I figured out most of the clues first, so I led most of the day. "It says the next clues can be seen through that telescope," I deciphered from a jumble of letters and pointed at a balcony in a building across the park from us. We walked up to it, and I waved to Rufio to look first, then August, then me. The telescope was locked in position and focused on a church several miles away at the top of Dolores Park. It was a timeworn but majestic church, distinguishable even at a distance by its golden dome that shone like a sun in the daylight.


    It took several minutes to travel to Dolores Park, so I got to know Rufio better. He was a student at SF State, majoring in Philosophy. He was at once thoughtful and silly, handsome, but also anxious and unsure of himself.


    With the men before Rufio, I was the quiet, passive one, but Rufio was even more shy and passive than I, so when he was around, I took charge. He said he felt safe with me, and that made me brave for him. But I''m getting ahead of myself.


    We got to the church around 4 pm and looked for the next clue. After several minutes without success, Nathan led us around the back of the building to a nondescript door. It looked like the entrance to a small shed, perhaps tools or garden equipment. A padlock with a six-number combination blocked our path.


    "The missing girl, when did she go missing?" Rufio asked. I consulted the key I picked up at the Institute. It gave a short bio of a girl named Eve, who went missing several years ago, and seemed to be the story''s MacGuffin. But Nathan saved me the trouble and said it was instead Eve''s birthday, 07-19-86.


    With the right combination, the door opened to stairs leading down beneath the church. The lights were low. Spiders lived in the several wide cracks in the concrete foundation. I tried not to let my fear shake me, but Rufio was thoroughly spooked. August laughed at us both and went first down the dark stone stairway. I grabbed Rufio''s hand and followed behind August. Nathan took the rear and closed the door behind us.


    The stairs led to a circular stone room, clearly meant as a worship space, with little cushions to kneel on, strange banners on every wall, and a tiny sunroof that cast a single beam of light.


    "This is as far as I''ve gotten," Nathan confessed. "On the altar, you''ll find the last clue."


    On the altar was a large ornate clock, stuck at 8:00. Next to the clock was a sign that said, ''Come to Sunday Morning Service!''


    "Shit," August said. "You''re telling me we gotta be up and here by eight in the morning?! Ugh."


    "That''s the end of chapter one," Nathan said. "I don''t know what happens here, and I haven''t convinced anyone else to meet me for chapter two."


    "I''ll do it," I said without hesitation. "This was the most fun I''ve had... maybe ever." I was determined to see where the story led. And what a unique first date! Rufio said he would come back, too. August glared at us with envy and jealousy, standing so close to each other. He would spend several weeks irritated with me. I ignored him, and Rufio became my first boyfriend.


    February 2009 - Travis


    I''ve always been a solitary person. When I was much younger, I would take a book to the farthest corner of the schoolyard so no one would talk to me.


    I used to be lonely. I grew out of it. But until then, I was a desperate sadboi, pathetic and manipulative.


    See, I''m good at understanding people. Call it empathy or simply being observant. I can look at a person and usually know what they want and how they think. So naturally, this makes my life somewhat paradoxical. I don''t like people, yet I love them; I''m fascinated by them, and as much as I hate being around them, I''m bored and sometimes sad when they''re not around.


    Anyway, all these qualities, combined with my situation and environment, molded me into a very manipulative version of myself. I understood people, what they wanted, how they thought, and how to bring them to my way of thinking. And, being the desperate sadboi I was, I didn''t always use my powers for good. Often, I would manipulate a person or situation just to see if I could. Other times, I lied because I thought it would make things easier and I could get away with it.


    For example, my relationship with Rufio. I cheated on him and lied about it. And I''m sorry. Not that my apology or guilt changes anything. But I am sorry. I wasn''t a very good person at that time in my life. I didn''t care about other people. I had great affection for Rufio and all the other men I ''loved'' at the time. I said the words ''I love you,'' and I meant it, but in hindsight, I was unable to love anyone. I was still thinking in survival mode. Every relationship I made was calculated. I wanted someone who could ''fix'' me or ''save'' me, but ultimately I wanted someone to fill the hole I felt in myself. I had to learn to love myself, accept my flaws and weaknesses, and see others, not in terms of how they might benefit me, but how I might benefit them, or simply appreciate the things that make them unique.


    But I wasn''t ready to think like that.


    A few weeks after the Humdrum adventure, August''s ex, Travis messaged me on Facebook. He asked how I was doing, and wrote that his friend Otis had just died due to a rejected heart transplant, and he was heartbroken. I expressed sympathy, and then he invited me over.


    My first instinct was apprehension. August was my friend. I''d met Travis at social gatherings, but I didn''t know him well, and August didn''t speak highly of him. But Travis was wealthy and influential in the Castro scene, and I wanted to be popular, so I reluctantly agreed and walked the half mile to his house.


    I knocked, and Travis finally opened the door after some difficulty, looking flushed. He wore a big smile and welcomed me inside. I completely forgot to be on guard. How could he be dangerous? He was so pitiable. Something about him felt like a fa?ade, and it threw me off. I was a great liar. Travis was not. It made me wary but also fascinated, the way snakes and spiders fascinate me. I was expecting something a little more somber, but whatever.


    "Do you want a drink?" he asked.


    "Uh, sure. I don''t drink much, so a small one, please."


    "Follow me," he said playfully and sauntered to the kitchen. While mixing drinks, he boasted of his new kitchen renovations: black marble countertop, stainless steel appliances, voice control systems, and whatnot.


    I thought it was a tasteless demonstration of almost-wealth and wondered why he hadn''t mentioned Otis, his dead friend. Wasn''t that why I came here, to console him? He rambled on about his home decorations as he handed me a drink, and we moved to the living room. I sipped my drink and coughed a little. Hard alcohol was new to me and exciting.


    He crossed his legs on his couch, wobbling his head confidently.


    "My friends and I are what you might call the ''A-Gays,''" he began. "Dozens of boys try to get in our social circle; we''re very popular."


    "That''s kind of pretentious. What makes you so special?"


    "We''re rich, in our thirties, and we know everybody worth knowing. If you wanted, I could get you a VIP pass into Badlands; the owner and I are close friends."


    "Thanks, but bars aren''t really my thing."


    "Okay, okay¡­ So I saw on Facebook that you''re friends with August," and as he said this, he looked sideways, like he was being sly.


    "Yeah, he''s one of the first people I met in San Francisco. I''ve heard you two have issues, but he''s my friend, and I don''t want to get put in the middle of your thing. I hope you understand. We can be friends, but I''d rather we not talk about him."


    "That''s fine. I just think you should know he''s not a good person. Right now, he''s being sued for giving my friend HIV; and he cheated on me when he did it."


    "He told me you two had an open relationship."


    "Well, yeah."


    "Then was it cheating? Your friend was having unsafe sex with August. It can be assumed he was having unsafe sex with other people too. There''s no way of knowing who gave it to whom; even if there were, would it make a difference? It happened. And no one forced your grown friend into raw-dogging a beautiful twink."


    "I know August. He would hide it. It''s something he would do. I''m only telling you to warn you. You need to be careful."


    "I am careful. August and I use condoms. He''s on meds, and he''s shown me his medical reports. He''s undetectable, which means he''s untransmittable. I''m safe. Besides, I trust him. He would never endanger me. You seem pretty bitter he broke up with you."


    "You''re goddamn right, I''m bitter! He gave me HIV and cut my life in half!" Then he went into another diatribe about his health, which he thought was fascinating, but I didn''t.


    I interrupted, "Even if August was patient zero, he''s 19, you''re 35, and you encouraged him to sleep with your friends. Sex is a numbers game. The more people you sleep with, the likelier the chance of catching something."


    He blushed and smiled wistfully. "Well, fine, that''s true. I used to drive August to his trick''s house." Again, he looked sideways at me. His face was pink. "I like when the boys I''m dating sleep with other people; it''s like saying, ''Look what I have, and you can just borrow it.'' I''m looking for a fuck-buddy, Sebastian. Not a boyfriend, but someone I can fool around with and buy things for. I can be very generous."


    Yikes. Where did my drink go?


    "Um¡­ you just referred to your ex-boyfriend as an ''it.'' He''s also my good friend, and we sleep together. I''m sorry, but I''m not interested in having a sexual relationship with you. We can be friends, though."


    "That''s cool. You finished your drink! Do you want another one?"


    "Sure."


    Again, we returned to the kitchen, and he retold the fascinating story of its renovation. I silently debated whether to stay or go home. Deciding to push my luck, I changed the subject. "Last week I was in a car accident! My boyfriend, Rufio''s car was totaled."


    "I was in a car accident once, but we won''t talk about that! Ha ha."


    "It sounds interesting."


    "No, no. I thought about what you said earlier, and it''s fine. After August, I made a resolution not to date boys younger than 24 anymore. They''re just immature, and they''re kinda stupid ¨C no offense. It''s nothing personal, but I think around 24, something happens to boys'' brains, and they become smarter, more capable of maintaining a healthy relationship."


    I was 20. Trying not to interpret that as the insult it strongly resembled, I said, "I''ve met plenty of young guys in healthy relationships. You''re generalizing a lot of people. Makes me think you''re projecting yourself onto others."


    He blinked a few times, unable to think up a good retort; surprised, annoyed, and impressed that I beat him, his eyes twinkled. My ego flared. He annoyed me, but I liked that he thought I was impressive. I''d stay if only because he thought I was remarkable. That, and he was offering free vodka. This is fun, I thought, smug and self-righteous. I asked for another drink. Meanwhile, the room was beginning to sway, and, I imagine, so was I.


    "I want to show you something," he said to me. "Follow me upstairs to my room."


    I won''t lie. I knew what he was about, but full of myself and vodka, I thought I could out-maneuver him. I was wrong. The thing he wanted to show me was his collection of nudes he''d downloaded off people''s online dating profiles. My initial reaction of disgust was soon overshadowed by the thought, "Wow, these are hot!" And being drunk and looking at nudes put me in a desirable position for a predatory older gay.


    The morning after, I woke up with a furious hangover, furious at myself. Travis woke up as I tried to leave quietly.


    "So I was thinking we could go shopping," he informed me.


    I pause for a moment, knowing I would regret this:


    "Alright. Let''s go."


    I know. I wish I had scruples, too, but I like nice things and couldn''t afford them. Plus, this asshole took advantage of me. I wanted something out of it. Anyway, rationalization aside, we went shopping. Somehow he spent 500 dollars on underwear, shoes, swimming trunks, a delicious meal, and a sex toy, making me promise he could use it on me later. I lied and said yes. Travis thought he was driving us to his house, but first, I dropped him off. He threw a tantrum, insulted me, and begged me not to go. The walk home felt good. Revenge is fun, I thought, until Rufio called, crying and brokenhearted.


    Travis had called him.


    Between heaving sobs, Rufio asked me if I cheated on him with August, if I had HIV, and if I infected him. I ran to him and told him everything. I did cheat on him with August. I used a condom, but that didn''t matter. He asked that I give him space to focus on his studies.


    Not one to be outdone, I posted on Travis'' Facebook wall that he raped me. While many disagree, I maintain that was a truthful statement. I had told Travis I was not interested. Then he plied me, an inexperienced adolescent, with alcohol and manipulated me until I relented from the pressure. That is not enthusiastic consent.


    Travis'' response was predictable: he told anyone who''d listen I was a lying slut and a meth addict. That''s how I made my reputation in San Francisco. For months and years later, strangers meeting me would ask if they were true, all those awful things they''d heard about me.


    March 2009 - Community Convention


    "Rufio still isn''t speaking to me. I fucked everything up, and I don''t know why I did it," I told Dani.


    Most youths in CYH had to see their caseworker every week, but I had a job and maintained a 4.0 GPA, so I convinced Dani to see me only once a month because I thought I didn''t need help. But in retrospect, I should have asked for extra time because I needed all the help I could get.


    "Sometimes we ruin things for ourselves because we don''t think we deserve them," she pondered.


    "I dunno. To be honest, sometimes I''ll catch myself and think, ''wow, that''s arrogant.''"


    Dani shrugged. "Arrogance and insecurity are like two sides of the same coin. Sometimes, people pretend to be confident to hide how scared and unsure they are."


    "That doesn''t make sense. How can someone be arrogant and insecure at the same time?"


    Dani laughed and said, "It takes a lot of work, let me tell you, but if you can convince yourself, you can convince anyone."


    I thought about it for a moment. "You''re saying I''ve convinced myself I''m arrogant?"


    "I don''t mean to say anything. But. If you had convinced yourself of something, that wouldn''t be unusual. Most people lie to themselves. Myself included. Once you''ve lied to yourself, lying to someone else is easy. Being honest with yourself, that''s rare, because it''s hard. Being honest with yourself demands work and pain. It''s not easy coming to terms with yourself. Your failings. It hurts. Most people don''t have the constitution for it."


    I didn''t know how to respond. Dani was like that. She''d say something abstract, and I''d just sit there thinking about it for a few seconds.


    "Okay. To be clear, you''re saying I fucked up my relationship with Rufio because I think I don''t deserve him, and I''ve convinced myself that I''m arrogant to hide my insecurities... from myself?"


    Dani put her hands up in the air in surrender. "I have no idea. I''m not in your head, and I never met Rufio. I''m just listening to your story. Anything I say is a knee-jerk response to what you say, but I won''t pretend I''m impartial. I''m still human. If I''m projecting my own nonsense, or maybe someone else''s, disregard me. Honestly, I''m just some guy. Who cares what I think? I don''t have God''s Truth. If something I say doesn''t feel true to you, ignore it, please."


    Again, Dani had me stumped. Most people didn''t act like her, and it took me a second to process that kind of casual humility, but I was preoccupied by something else entirely.


    "You said you''re ''some guy.'' Have I been gendering you wrong?''" I asked wrongly. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Dani just smiled. "No, you haven''t been misgendering me. I don''t care whether people call me a man or a woman."


    As she mentioned it, I realized we never discussed gender or how she preferred to be referred. I felt ashamed and confused and kind of confused about being ashamed and confused. "I never asked you about your pronoun preferences. Is that right? I don''t even know how to ask about it. I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to be rude, but it also seemed like none of my business."


    She shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I often don''t know what the rules are, either. It seems like new norms and codes of conduct are introduced and enforced so rapidly, it''s hard to keep up, even for me. I don''t always align with, I guess you could call it, ''liberal orthodoxy.'' But it is polite in liberal circles to ask for pronouns when meeting a person. You never asked, but you never made me feel weird or freakish, either. You treat me like anyone else. I shouldn''t say this, but many of my clients were awkward about it. If anything, I''d say thank you."


    Yet again, she stumped me. I thought for a second about it. "I''m sorry people suck. But I''m a person. And since I already broke the seal on this conversation, can I ask you about gender?"


    "Of course," she put down her notes and pen and folded her hands in her lap. "And don''t worry about offending me. I won''t be offended. If you say or ask something offensive, I''ll explain why it might be offensive, but like I said before, this is a safe space for you to figure things out, and I''m here to help."


    It was wonderful how safe Dani made me feel. Over the years, during moments with others, I noticed myself emulating her, copying her gestures and vocal intonations.


    "Okay," I said, having organized my thoughts a little. "A couple months back in Lark Inn, I met a trans couple. A boy and a girl, going this way," I pointed like the Scarecrow in both directions, "And I guess... I guess I don''t understand."


    Dani laughed and sighed and said, "Yeah, that makes sense. You didn''t actually ask a question, so I''ll say what comes to mind, and maybe a dialogue will come from that, yeah? Alright. Uh. I guess... the first thing to understand is... gender and sex are not the same thing. Sex is about chromosomes and hormones; it''s biological stuff. Gender is about how cultures interpret that biological stuff and where one falls within that interpretation. And it''s important to remember our culture is not universal. Other cultures differ widely on how they interpret and organize that biological stuff."


    I knit my brows and nod, following along so far. Dani continued, "But the simple thing about sex and gender is they aren''t binary. You know what a binary is?"


    I shake my head.


    "It''s like, either-or. Black or white, with no shades of grey, but almost everything exists in some shade of grey.


    "Myself, for example. My body produces more testosterone than is ''normal'' (she said while making air quote fingers) for a woman. Doctors told me they could perform a dangerous, invasive surgery to ''fix'' (again) me, but this is who I am," she said while spreading her arms and posturing. "I like me, and I don''t need fixing. Now some people see me, and they think I''m a man. That''s fine. I can''t go around correcting everyone on the street, can I? Does it matter? Not to me, anyway. Sometimes, people think I''m a man, and when I drop my voice low and act commanding (she said this while acting it out), I even enjoy some male privilege. I kind of exist within a strange intersection of privilege and oppression.


    "But I''m kind of trans-adjacent, so probably not the best person to help you understand trans people. I don''t experience body dysmorphia. Other people have hang-ups with my body, not me."


    Dani gave me a few moments of silence because I needed the extra time to think about it.


    "So you''re a woman?" I asked.


    "I mean, I guess? Most of the time, anyway. I think of myself as a woman, but sometimes I (air quotes) ''act like a man.'' Sometimes people think I''m a man. And if it swims like a duck and quacks like a duck..."


    "So your gender changes?"


    "I guess? I''m always gonna be me, whether other people know it or not. Whether I know it or not! But how society views me can change at any moment depending on the context. Likewise, how I see myself can change, and I can alter the context."


    This was too much, and I was lost. I shook my head. "But what about Faerie? She''s with this transguy, Alex. Does that makes them straight or gay or what?"


    Dani laughed, "Oh, okay. Uhh, I guess the important question is, does it matter?"


    "Not really, no. But I want to understand, and I don''t know how."


    Again, Dani laughed and sighed. "Well, I suggest you ask them... but since you''re asking me... attraction and identity aren''t the same thing. Who you are and what you want are different things, right? As for whether that makes them ''gay'' or ''straight,'' those are just words. Words that imply a dichotomy. A binary. Either-Or. Either gay or straight, as opposed to a complex human person, with unique tastes and preferences, right?"


    After a moment of silence, Dani jumped back in, "And also, I think you don''t necessarily need to understand. I don''t mean to be dismissive. Full disclosure, I don''t totally get it, either, and that''s okay. See, I like my body. I don''t understand what it''s like to live in the wrong body, but I don''t need to understand. All I need to do is treat Faerie like I would anyone else."


    "I wanna be respectful. I don''t mean to pry. That''s the opposite of what I want. It''s just I wanna understand so I can be better. I''m afraid I''ll say something stupid or insensitive and fuck everything up."


    Dani nodded. "Yeah, that''s real." She sighed. "I can''t answer why Faerie is transitioning. Only she can do that. And I don''t think she can answer why anyone else is transitioning. In my experience, it''s a unique, personal journey.


    "But I can say your fears are out of proportion. I don''t mean to dismiss them outright. Some people are bastard-filled bastards, and trans people are people, too. So I won''t lie and say, ''no trans person will be upset if you accidentally use the wrong words,'' but for the most part, people can recognize intention. Like our conversation now. You''ve been very respectful. You even asked permission before talking about it. Who does that? Just be with Faerie the way you are around me. You''ll be fine. And if you say something she doesn''t like, let her correct you. Listen to her. She might even be grateful to share her truth with you."


    We sat in silence for a while again until Dani finally broke it.


    "What about you? What happened last month? I know you went on the Humdrum adventure. That''s when you met Rufio. Did you go back and finish it?"


    "No. The next chapter is on the first Sunday of every month. Five days ago. Rufio still won''t talk to me, and I was depressed, so I bailed. Nathan was super disappointed. This is the second time his party bailed before chapter two."


    Dani had a sly look in her eyes. "Why don''t you invite Faerie and Alex to the next chapter? You can run the first chapter with them again before the next first Sunday."


    "Yeah. That''s a good idea. I''ll ask them at the next Community Convention."


    The Community Conventions were mandatory monthly gatherings of all the youths and their caseworkers. Being in Castro Youth Housing meant jumping through hoops and regular check-ins. I don''t mean to seem ungrateful. Particularly with the benefit of hindsight, I am grateful for those hoops and rules. They gave my life structure. I didn''t realize at the time how much I appreciated that sense of regularity.


    Also, Castro Youth Housing provided pizza with vegan alternatives, so the meetings were always well attended, and the attendants were well satisfied.


    "Yoshimi Battles the Pink RobotsPt. 1" by the Flaming Lips was playing on a nearby portable stereo. I saw Faerie and Alex sitting together alone, and I asked to sit next to them.


    "Oh yeah, you''re that geek who thinks Ironman would win against Batman in a cage match," Faerie taunted.


    "In a sudden death match, no doubt. But Bruce Wayne would beat Tony Stark if he had time to prepare a strategy and study Ironman''s weaknesses," I shot back and took a seat.


    Faerie just rolled her eyes, and I was already off to a bad start.


    Alex was friendlier this time. "Hey, Bastian. Don''t mind her. She''s in a mood."


    Faerie immediately stood up and walked away from Alex and me without another word. Alex watched her leave but didn''t react.


    "What''s a matter with her?" I asked.


    "None of your business," Alex said calmly. That shut down conversation for several minutes. I ate in silence until Deon, a large young Black man, sat down next to me. We lived on the same floor and met sitting in the hallway, each of us jumping on the wifi of the cafe downstairs. We would sit for hours together, surfing the internet, playing games, and talking about stuff.


    "Mmm!" Deon boisterously exclaimed. "You know I love pizza, but I LOVE free pizza. Can you taste the freedom? Here, smell it. Delicious, delicious freedom. I look forward to this every month. Y''all have no idea. I get to hang out with all my people. There''s food, games, and people. Oh my God, I love people."


    Alex scowled. I laughed with Deon and said, "Not me. I''d rather be home. People are the worst. Pizza is great, though."


    "I know! People suck, and I need them! I''m cursed!" Deon laughed at himself. "Y''all have no idea. I sit in my apartment alone, and it''s like I''m a plant without sunlight. But people are awful!"


    "At least they''re entertaining," I said. "And every once in a great while, people are the best." I smiled and ate my pizza, and bumped my shoulder into Deon''s shoulder. A grim and comforting silence followed. Alex looked at our warm and easy candor with piqued interest. The chatter of twenty other street urchins distributing Apples to Apples cards rang like ambient music in the background. Faerie returned to sit beside Alex.


    "Apples to Apples. For the fifth month in a row," she said dryly.


    "We gotta get these folks some new party games," Alex said to her.


    "Chile, don''t you dare speak ill of Apples to Apples! I love this game," Deon was animated and delighted to see Faerie. She lit up with his infectious enthusiasm and leaned in to rejoin.


    "Apples can be fun, but we''ve gone through the deck several times. There are lots of fun games out there. I can prove it. Come with Alex and me to Totally Awesome. It''s a board game store in West Portal. On Thursdays, they let you open any board game and play it. It''s totally awesome! Alex and I go every week. You can come, too, Ironman," she said mockingly. I jumped in my seat.


    "Thanks! Actually, I wanted to invite you all on an adventure. Have any of you heard of the Humdrum Institute?" I said in a low voice, so only the four of us could hear.


    "Uh, I have not," Alex said with extreme skepticism.


    "Nope," said Faerie.


    "Me neither," said Deon.


    "It sounds boring," Alex concluded.


    "Yes, it does," I said. "But I promise it''s fun. It''s like a scavenger hunt through the city. There are clues all over. You''d be amazed! And it''s free!"


    "Okay, can we just pause for a second," Deon interrupted. "Because I want to acknowledge this is the greatest conversation I''ve ever been in, and I want to thank you all for including me in it."


    "Thanks, Deon," Alex responded. Faerie and I agreed. Deon jumped back into the conversation.


    "But what about this scavenger hunt? You have my undivided attention." Deon turned his chair to face me better. Alex and Faerie looked at me too, and I laughed and blushed.


    "Okay. I''ve only gone through the first chapter, but I''ll go again, and I''ll only help if you all ask for help. The adventure begins in a generic-looking skyscraper in the Financial District. You get a map there and follow its directions."


    "That sounds like a lot of fun," Faerie observed.


    "It is! I''m not kidding."


    "When is it?" Alex asked.


    "During normal business hours, usually. We can go after the conference, even."


    "And it''s free?" Deon repeated.


    "Yes. At least the first chapter was free. I can''t say if the entire game will be."


    "I bet the last chapter costs money," Alex said. Faerie agreed. "Probably, but we can walk away then. It sounds fun. C''mon, let''s go," she said to him, and Alex relented.


    Deon cheered loudly. I cheered silently. We all finished eating and then ghosted to the Humdrum Institute.


    It was only a mile from the LGBT Center to the Financial District, but San Francisco was riddled with steep hills. Deon demanded frequent stops to collect his breath and wail and threaten to collapse and die, but we made it to the skyscraper that could have been any skyscraper by midday.


    The woman at the desk on the 18th floor was different, but her name tag read Aubrey. Like Nathan did for me and my group, I stayed back and let Alex, Faerie, and Deon decipher the key. Alex took the lead, and we found the 1960s business-style room without incident. The TV clicked on, and the disembodied voice repeated its surreal call to arms.


    I ignored the voice, having heard it before, and examined the room''s contents more closely. Bookshelves were lined with encyclopedias of drugs and metaphysics, books on alien abductions, sightings, crop circles, and UFOs. Other topics included mysticism, spell books, catalogs of fantasy creatures, and studies on parallel dimensions. The books were secured on each shelf to prevent theft. All the furniture was bolted down. The glass cabinets encased an ornate opium pipe, a picture of Timothy Leary, and objects with symbols holy to Eastern religions.


    By the end of the recording, all three of them were wide-eyed with excitement. Deon couldn''t contain himself and practically squealed as we returned the key to "Aubrey."


    Faerie was also jubilant playing the game. She looked beautiful and happy in the sun, her turquoise hair blowing in the wind as we climbed down the fire escape.


    Alex led the team expertly. He read the clues aloud and gave everyone time to respond. The three of them together were whip-sharp and deciphered every clue without my help.


    For my part, I tried to take Dani''s advice and treated Alex and Faerie like anyone else. I didn''t mention their genders or ask my questions. I wouldn''t force the issue. If it comes up naturally in conversation, I thought.


    It didn''t. Instead, we talked about almost everything else. Our crappy housing, superheroes, Chinatown architecture, pork buns, anime, the zodiac, the zodiac killer, and of course, our present adventure: a mystery revolving around a missing girl named Eve, and vague mentions of a fantastic place called Elsewhere.


    By the end of the day, the four of us were fast friends.


    I didn''t get answers to my questions, but I did get a new idea for my book.


    Chapter 5 - Rowan


    Captain Reynard was much more than he seemed. Firefox, 2288 years old, freedom fighter, terrorist, refugee, leader of the resistance, and a woman. Well, not exactly. Firefox were shifters. Their genders could change on a whim, but Captain Reynard preferred the feminine, and her given name was Rowan.


    Lyn slept while the monkey nestled in her arms. Reynard was exhausted. He''d been on guard since Timothy arrived on Crescent. Something about Timothy left him uneasy. In truth, Reynard was relieved when Arthur sent them away. Rowan needed to speak with Lilith and couldn''t risk Timothy overhearing somehow.


    The Crystal Caverns under Moondial stretched under the island for miles, carved out over millennia, long after the fires beneath Crescent died, back when Inari first rose out of the sea. Rowan was just a child back then, scared to leave her home and start all over.


    Reynard had extinguished his firelight while Lyn slept to conserve energy. The light drew unnecessary attention to themselves. Strange things live in dark places. Already, they had seen acid lizards, cave birds, and insects the size of Lyn''s head. Still stranger things lurk in the blackest pits. They wouldn''t be safe until they reached Sanctuary. At the speed of an 8-year-old, the gate was several hours away. Time to wake Lyn.


    Once she was roused and nourished (with Apple''s assistance), Reynard told Lyn to take out the crystal gem she was given earlier and summon an orb of light, like she did before. It took her several attempts, and much of the stored mana was lost into the air, but eventually, Lyn succeeded in channeling the mana into magelight.


    "For now," Apple interpreted Reynard''s instructions, "focus on keeping the orb aloft and steady while we climb the caverns. I will lead the way and guard everyone."


    And so it was. They were deep below sea level. The rest of their trek would be a steep climb. Reynard led the way and kept a steady pace while Lyn followed close behind, lighting the way. Meanwhile, all around them, crystal formations sparkled in the darkness, hues of green, blue, purple, and silver, twinkling reflections of Lyn''s magelight.


    They continued like that for a long time: Reynard led them along the safest route while Lyn silently focused. Apple hung from Lyn''s back, arms around her shoulders. But Lyn''s young mind often drifted, with her magelight drifting or dissipating. More than once, Lyn lost grip of the thought, and the light almost scattered.


    "Captain Reynard," the monkey shouted as she jumped onto Reynard''s back. "Lyn has a question," she said quieter now, close to Reynard''s ear. "She wants to know why she can cast magic, and if Morgan and Rafael can, too?"


    Apple interpreted from Reynard''s shoulder. He didn''t stop or turn around as he spoke.


    "When Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, it cursed them. Original Sin had several consequences. One was random genetic mutations. You see, Adam and Eve were perfect, but they failed God''s test; so evidently, perfection was overrated. With mutations came flaws, and as flaws built up over generations, fewer and fewer humans were born with magical abilities.


    "When Adam figured this out, he gathered all the known magic users to the capital, declared them his ''purest'' children, and gave them land to steward. Now Adam manages their bloodlines like pure breed hounds.


    "Your mother came from a family Adam had ''cultivated'' for centuries to maximize magical potential. So you probably inherited your powers from her. As to your second question, I don''t know if Morgan or Rafael inherited any abilities. I''ve never witnessed them demonstrating magical affinity."


    By now, Lyn''s magelight was greatly diminished. Much of the mana had dissipated into the surrounding environment in the form of heat. Still, for her age and experience, that any collected mana remained was remarkable. But the effort was clearly exacting a toll. Lyn was shuffling her feet and stumbling. Her determination was impressive and earned a smile from Reynard, but the girl needed a rest.


    Reynard summoned a light of his own, a fiery orange sphere, and instructed Lyn to put her light away.


    "The gate isn''t far now," he said, and Apple translated. "Let''s take a break to eat and drink."


    They all crouched around Reynard''s firelight like a campfire. Reynard gave Lyn extra rations. While she ate, Reynard continued her education.


    "It''s time you learned... the truth about me and where we''re going," he said, to Lyn''s alert reaction. She directed Apple to sit on Reynard''s knee to better interpret.


    "When Adam first claimed the islands, we didn''t know what he was capable of. We didn''t know he''d waged a genocidal war on magical creatures for centuries. These islands are so far from the mainlands. No one here knew he could blow up a volcano. Reduce an entire island to a boiling vortex of steam and magma.


    "I survived because I was here on a mission to meet our ancient friends, the cthulians. Adam had been waging war on them for centuries. We hadn''t seen or heard from them in many years.


    "But this was a sacred place. I knew they would come. As they were telling me what Adam had done to them, what he was capable of, he destroyed my home and killed everyone on it. The cave shuddered from the force of it."


    Lyn had stopped eating and looked close to tears, wide-eyed. ''You''re firefox!'' she signed, and as Apple said it, the air around Reynard blurred, and his features changed. His ears disappeared beneath copper-red fur, and two pointed ears grew atop a feminine head. His armor evaporated, revealing a beautiful creature covered in copper fur. Their tail was alive and luxurious, with a white tip. At the tip of each delicate finger was an orange claw. Their eyes were green, pupils diamond-shaped by firelight. Their clothes were emerald-green, mere silken figments of modesty for Lyn''s sake.


    "That''s right," they said. "I''m the last firefox. My name is Rowan." Lyn was dumbstruck, mouth agape. Rowan chuckled.


    It took Lyn a few seconds to process everything Apple was interpreting. Then Lyn shook her head violently, stood up, and shouted for herself. "You lied from the start! Does Papa know?" Lyn had never heard anyone''s voice before, but she knew the principles, and sometimes Apple helped her practice. Her voice was earnest and upset, her pitch wild and erratic.


    Rowan merely blinked. "Of course, your father knows. He''s the one who sent us here, remember? I''m sorry I lied to you, but I had no choice. If anyone else knew, Adam would send assassins to kill me. I''m telling you the truth now."


    That calmed her down. She sat apologetically.


    "Finish your meal. There''s more," Rowan remained unmoved. Lyn reluctantly ate her rations of smoked meats, nuts, dried cherries, and a bread roll.


    "Morgan and Rafael know as well. I''ve been training them since they were your age. Now, I''m going to train you," Rowan said with the loving voice of a stern and powerful mother. Lyn couldn''t hear the tone in Rowan''s voice, but she felt it in Apple''s translated delivery. In that moment, Lyn devoted herself to Rowan for life.


    "Let''s continue your training," Rowan said. "Summon the light from your crystal, and hold it steady in front of you."


    Lyn did as she was told. Overeager, she accidentally poured some of her quintessence into the orb. Silver. The orb grew in size, and the color silver increased in proportion. Lyn felt suddenly tired and dizzy.


    "Careful," said Rowan. "Imagine the ball is a feather, light in your mind''s grasp. Delicate. Don''t hold on too tight, or you''ll tire. Here," Rowan poured some of their quintessence into Lyn''s orb. For a brief moment, Rowan''s fire and Lyn''s light intermingled like two collapsing stars. Fiery gold appeared in Lyn''s light, and the girl''s eyes widened with sensation. Her magelight was now a glorious sphere, swirling with silver and fiery colors, greens, blues, purples, and brown. The crystals around them scattered the lights in a million directions, like living galaxies. Rowan reabsorbed their firelight.


    "Mana is a precious resource, soul mana especially so. Quintessence. The spark that makes you human. Deplete that, and you''ll be depressed, exhausted, and vulnerable to all sorts of ailments. Be careful when using quintessence, and be even more careful when absorbing foreign mana.


    "Not all mana is the same, just as no two witches are the same. Everyone has different limitations and can access different mana. So far, you''ve demonstrated an affinity for lights. Whether that''s the extent of your powers, we''ll discover in time. For now, let''s practice what we know.


    "Try to shape the orb. Separate the colors. Construct an illusion. Get creative with it. This is your spell. It can be whatever you want it to be."


    Lyn closed her eyes and concentrated, and the orb began to take shape. Arms, legs, a head, and a tail sprouted out, and when Lyn opened her eyes, it was a near-perfect-sized replica of her Apple. But colors swirled brightly and erratically along fake Apple''s body like a glowworm of many colors.


    "That''s excellent," Rowan encouraged. "In time and with practice, you should be able to cast convincing illusions. Let''s get going. We''re almost at the gate. While we''re climbing, let your monkeylight run around. Practice duplicating natural movements. It''s harder than it seems. Send the monkey running and jumping, but make it look natural."


    The trio continued their ascent. Apple jumped to the ground and chased the illusion of her, giving Lyn a living example to copy. It helped, but the illusion''s jumps were unrealistic.


    "Apple doesn''t jump that high," Rowan pointed out. Lyn smirked and concentrated, and her illusion grew wings.


    ''Now it''s realistic,'' Lyn laughed, and Apple translated, struggling to keep up with her likeness. Finally, Apple gave up and jumped back on Lyn''s shoulders while the magnificent glowing monkey flew overhead, lighting their path. Lyn stumbled a few times, struggling to command the illusion while watching her steps, but never dropped the illusion. Rowan was impressed.


    They reached the entrance to the gate in short order. It looked like a nondescript crack in the wall, easily overlooked in the labyrinthine crystal caverns, but if you knew where to look...


    Rowan told Lyn to stand far back against the wall. Rowan peeked into the crack, but it was too dark to see anything. They summoned a ball of fire and crafted it into a tiny fox, sending the toy scout into the cave.


    Shit. Eight pale bears were sleeping in the cave, and the light woke them up. They started swiping at the fox, but Rowan couldn''t waste the mana burning wild animals. The fox ran around the cave to distract the pale bears.


    Rowan turned to look at Lyn. The glowing monkey would draw attention, they thought, and then had an idea.


    ''Lyn,'' Rowan signed directly, so the pale bears wouldn''t hear them. ''Your illusion can change size. Imagine stretching the mana. Make the monkey giant size, big enough to scare some cave monsters. I''ll draw them out. You send the illusion to the cave entrance so they don''t run back in.''


    Lyn gave a swift and determined nod and closed her eyes. The illusion grew tenfold. She made it terrifying with gorilla arms and large, protruding fangs, but even so, it was beautiful. And it was perfect for their needs at hand. Rowan grabbed Lyn''s hand and then hurried to hide behind a crystal column, thick and tall like a redwood. Rowan called her firefox out of the cage, and the six pale bears chased it outside. Lyn timed her illusion appearance perfectly, commanding the bears'' attention.


    Unlike the copy of Apple, which was bright and solid, this monstrous hulk was transparent, still shining, but not as brightly. The pale bears weren''t sure whether to fight or flee. Lyn''s illusion slammed the ground pointlessly and roared soundlessly, scaring six of the smallest pale bears away, but two stubborn bears stayed. They wouldn''t concede the home where they had nursed their cubs. Stupid bears.


    Rowan didn''t want to kill them. They had no enmity toward pale bears, but they needed to get into that cave.


    "Run to the entrance," Rowan shouted as they stepped out from behind the crystal column. Their entire body spontaneously caught fire, and two fireballs appeared from either palm. This would be over quickly. Rowan charged the pale bears, and Lyn''s winged-gorilla illusion followed behind. Apple pulled Lyn toward the entrance. But the sight of a flaming Rowan terrified the last bears. They caught wise and chased after their young before anyone was hurt. Relieved, Rowan put their fire out and went to the gate.


    Lyn pulled her light into the dark cave and compressed it even smaller than before until it was the size of Apple''s head, shining brighter than ever, flitting around like a hummingbird. Rowan walked to the back of the cave, grasped a heavy slab of stone, and pushed. The stone door spun on its ancient hinge, and they all squeezed through. Rowan pushed the door shut behind them. Lyn gasped in awe. Apple was dumbstruck.


    The Cthulian Mausoleum, an enormous underground forest. Resting place of the greatest cthulian minds and warriors. A single beam of light shined from a crack in the cave ceiling. The cave itself was massive and exquisitely carved over centuries. Towering rows of coffins on top of coffins lined the walls of the mausoleum. In the center of the cavern was a giant, ancient tree with bright pink and purple flowers whose petals covered the cavern floor like thick snow. Strange birds and animals neither Lyn nor Apple had ever seen before watched cautiously but without fear. A creature that resembled a stag with green and black spots came close enough to sniff Lyn''s hand before backing away, having determined they were no threat.


    Lyn laughed aloud with joy and wonder at the beauty hidden beneath her island home. But her laugh woke something.


    "Who dares enter this hallowed space?!" A voice rang out. Apple jumped, and Rowan tensed. Lyn froze when she saw their reactions, looking around for the source of their distress. Then they all saw it. Out of the giant tree in the center of the mausoleum stepped a forest sprite.


    It was dark purple with green veins, feminine curves, and horns like a stag. The sound of angry, buzzing bees filled the air. Beautiful and terrifying, the sprite lifted both hands, and vines sprouted violently out of the ground and surrounded the three travelers, binding them in place. Lyn began to cry in fear, but Rowan made the sign for ''calm,'' and it somewhat worked to pacify her.


    "Sprigga!" Rowan shouted. "Is this any way to greet old friends?" The tree nymph gasped in surprise, and immediately the vines returned to the ground.


    "Rowan! You''re back!" Sprigga ran to greet them, cloven feet giving nimble traction while bounding downhill. Sprigga and Rowan embraced tightly. The sound of buzzing bees changed to a gentle hum that seemed to radiate from Sprigga''s chest. "It''s been so long, I wasn''t sure if you were alive! What are you doing here?"


    "I''m sorry I''ve been gone so long, my dear. I''ve been preparing for war. Here, I''d like you to meet two of our newest recruits. This is Lyn and Apple," Rowan gestured toward their two small compatriots.


    Sprigga knelt, crossing both clawed hands across their chest to appear less threatening. Sprigga''s anthropomorphized face, with skin like tree bark, rearranged itself into something resembling a smile. Sprigga''s massive horns suddenly burst into life. Bright green leaves and blue flowers with flecks of pink blossomed above her. Lyn was instantly captivated and charmed. Delicately, she reached out to touch one of the flowers, as if a creature this magical could only be an illusion. Sprigga''s laugh sounded like a horse''s whinny, with a voice resembling the sound of wind bristling through leaves.


    "Welcome little ones," Sprigga said, "to Sanctuary."

 Chapter 6 - Humdrum Part 2 - Debrief - Lilith

    April 2009 - Humdrum - Part 2


    Faerie, Alex, Deon, and I each lived in single studios in the Perramont Hotel. I woke up early and knocked on all their doors, and we walked together to Nathan''s house, which was beautiful and modern, with three stories. They called it Windemere. August rented the ground floor. Nathan lived on the second, and the top level was communal space with an adjoined open-concept kitchen.


    Nathan was cooking waffles from scratch and juicing fruit when we arrived. Naturally social and gregarious, Nathan loved hosting and meeting new people. He was thrilled when I invited three friends to join us for Chapter Two. I also invited Rufio, but he didn''t respond and blocked my number. August and I avoided eye contact.


    We all shared our names and pronouns and devoured breakfast, spending little time on small talk. Service would start soon, and we were eager to hit the road. The church with the golden dome next to Dolores Park was less than a mile away. For the third time, I walked around the building to the shed with a locker combination. 7-19-86. Down the stairs, we went into the creepy circular worship space, except this time, it was filled with people.


    The six of us sat on pews arranged in a semi-circle. The stage and podium were empty, but actors meandered about the crowd, proselytizing about "light" and "Elsewhere." They wore bright, flowing robes with vibrant, colorful stoles.


    At 8am, a gong sounded, and an ancient Asian woman entered the room from behind the podium. The actors went to the stage and began playing a harp, drum, and flutes. The leader carried a violin with her. As she preached from the pulpit, she played her violin, and the band played along. Her introduction was punctuated musically with a haunting, gorgeous tune.


    "Friends, siblings, children, welcome.


    We''ve known one another forever.


    As galaxies gather and spin,


    our gravity brings us together.


    The stars in the skies,


    like stars in your eyes,


    in us all, a light shines within.


    We meet anew. Again.


    Trapped in this body.


    Trapped in this skin.


    Each, part of a whole.


    Like cells in the body,


    Each, cells in one heavenly body.


    Different, indispensable."


    The backup musicians continued playing softly as the cult leader-apparent of the group lowered her violin and began her sermon.


    "Welcome. Thank you for shining with us this beautiful Sunday morning. My name is Reverend Wu. Please, sign in and take a pamphlet. Pass these around. Thank you.


    "No doubt you''ve heard the lies about us, about our faith, about Eve. The Humdrum Institute claims that Eve is missing! They accuse us Nonchalant of kidnapping, treason, perfidy, and worse, but the truth will out!" The choir sang ''the truth will out'' as an echo.


    "Eve is not missing. Oh no. Eve is alive and found. Her light shines in Elsewhere like the dawn, a beacon illuminating the way. Did you know we''re made of light? It''s true. Our bodies make heat through electromagnetic radiation. Heat. Heat is just another kind of light. Infrared light. We cannot see infrared light, but did you know some snakes can? To a snake, we look like angels made of pure light. I wish I could show you, but you''re not ready. You need to see the light for yourself.


    "You are pilgrims on many paths, but today your winding roads merge into one highway. In your pamphlets, you''ll find a map of The City. Eve left this map for us to follow her to Elsewhere. Follow in her steps like pilgrims. Let today''s journey be a journey inside yourself. Let Eve lead you to yourself."


    The musicians played into a crescendo. Smoke billowed in from the ceiling and wall behind Reverend Wu.


    "We will meet again!" Reverend Wu proclaimed. "At the gates of Elsewhere! And beware the Humdrum Institute!"


    Lights flickered as more smoke filled the stage, and after a brief, fantastic firework display, the room went dark. When the lights turned back on, Reverend Wu and the musicians were gone. Several people ran out when the smoke started. We didn''t stay long, either, and hurried upstairs into fresh air.


    We examined the brochure they gave us. It was a local district map of San Francisco. On the top of the first page was a link to a website with a single downloadable audio file. Nathan downloaded the first file and played it for us all to hear.


    It was a recording of a man''s voice. He sounded like a tour guide for cult initiates.


    "Greetings and congratulations. You''ve embarked on a pilgrimage to your truest self. But before you can see the truth in yourself, you must see the world as it truly is. Nothing is what it seems. The world you thought you knew was an illusion. There is another world beneath this world of flesh and stone. Elsewhere. Like two sides of the same coin, our world and Elsewhere are the same, inseparable, but never touching.


    "But imagine for an instant if one drilled a hole through the center of that coin. Would the sides then touch? Could one reach through to the other side?


    "Dolores Park, our lady of sorrows. This land was once a Jewish cemetery. Before that, it held the bodies of the city founders. And earlier still, Native people were born and buried here. History can be bulldozed away, but remnants remain if one knows where to look.


    "This land is teeming with more life than you yet know. Follow the map Reverend Wu gave you. Find for yourself the holes in the surface of your existence."


    The audio file faded into static noise. Nathan put his phone away, and we examined our maps. It sent us north up Church Street and provided historical anecdotes step by step. Three blocks up, the map told us to leave the sidewalk and go to the median. Palm trees decorated the grassy median every few yards. As instructed, we examined the trees closely and found tiny hand prints!


    According to the map, these trees were gates for tiny winged fairies that traveled between our world and Elsewhere. In knotted holes in the trees, we found tiny furniture and stores of tiny foods. We carried on.


    Our maps ended a few blocks west at a secondhand bookstore. We entered as inconspicuously as possible for six queers. Some pilgrims were wandering the shelves, and August noticed a mass of people huddled together in a darkened corner of the shop. We waited for the crowd to leave and then hurried to see what they were examining.


    Among the books of religious studies, a single tome was chained to the wall. I opened it. It seemed like a book of riddles and newspaper clippings. More depictions of Elsewhere, an ephemeral place where spirits dance on the precipice of existence. The book was short and filled with abstract images and obscure occult references. I couldn''t make sense of it. But Nathan recognized one edifice that appeared throughout the book: Coit Tower.


    As we were flipping through the tome''s pages, Faerie noticed a tiny home hidden between the bookshelves. Reaching in, she found the second clue: it was a miniature book, exactly like the one in my hand. And when she opened the book, she found a single link inside.


    Nathan typed the URL into his phone and arrived at another site nearly identical to the previous one, with a single downloadable audio file. We put the books away and exited the bookstore. Once we were all outside and could hear Nathan''s phone, he played the recording. The same voice as before congratulated us on making it this far. The voice told us to go to Coit Tower and directed us to a nearby cable car.


    Coit Tower was several miles away, but the cable car would get us there in 20 minutes. In the meantime, we figured out how this adventure was funded: the entire game was a tourist attraction. San Francisco cable cars were famous. People wrote songs about them. We jumped off near Telegraph Hill, not far from Coit Tower.


    We hiked up and around the rocky terrain and learned about Lillie Hitchcock Coit, the wealthy and eccentric San Franciscan woman who chased fires. We finally found our next clue at the gift shop, of course. Alex found it, a postcard from Elsewhere. Eve was waving blithely on the front image, and on the back, a phone number.


    We called the number, and each of us got an answering machine with the same voice as before. But this time, the voice told us to leave our names and phone numbers.


    Was it a dead end? We scoured the area again to be sure we hadn''t missed a clue and found nothing else.


    After deliberating, we concluded that either the Humdrum Institute or Cult of Nonchalance would email us or call us back. Regardless, our urban hike had lasted several hours, and we were all ready to call it a day. Nathan invited us back to his home for lunch, and no one turned him down. So we jumped back on the cable car in the reverse direction and made our way to Windemere.


    Nathan told us to wash our hands, while he prepared dinner and turned on music. "Perfect Day" by Lou Reed. Then he put a freshly baked loaf of challah on the table. After pouring us each a glass of wine, Nathan brought us bowls of matzah ball soup and said a short prayer in Hebrew. We thanked Nathan for his gracious hospitality, broke the challah, and ate together. The soup was followed by gefilte fish and mushroom gravy latkes. The fish was weird but pretty good. The latkes were fantastic, and we ate plenty. Deon finished first.


    "This is been the best day I''ve had since coming to San Francisco. Thank you... all... for including me. It means a lot to me." Deon''s voice wavered as he said it.


    "Thank you, Deon," Nathan said. "It was a pleasure adventuring with you. How long have you been in San Francisco?"


    "I basically ran away from South Carolina about 8 months ago."


    "Whoa," August exclaimed. "Is it because you''re gay?"


    Deon laughed darkly and said, "That probably played a part, but I think being Black had more to do with it. My family lived in a college town, and some frat boys kept following me. They would throw rocks at me and yell stuff. One time, I woke up in the hospital; my momma gave me a bus ticket and said, ''you gotta get outta here.''"


    All I could say was, "shit."


    "You''re in the same program as Bastian?" Nathan asked.


    "Yeah, we all live in the Castro Housing studios," he said, gesturing to Alex, Faerie, and myself.


    "That''s good... Bastian told me about Larkin Services. They do good work. I''m glad you got help." Nathan turned to Alex and Faerie, sitting close together. "How about you two? Both of you''ve been pretty quiet all day. Where do you come from?"


    Alex answered for them both, "Upstate New York. We came together about a year ago. Sorry if we''ve been rude. It''s just... sorry, but... religious stuff is... well, I guess I''m not used to feeling safe around religious people. And there has been a lot of religious stuff today... sorry."


    I silently shared Alex and Faerie''s discomfort around religious people, icons, and rituals, but they seemed more than uncomfortable. They seemed almost frightened.


    Nathan chuckled warmly. "No offense taken. Honestly, I don''t blame you. Some people have weaponized religion. They worship white patriarchy and money. This might seem off-topic, but... have you heard of the Institute of Sex Research?"


    Blank stares and shrugs. Nathan continued, "I didn''t expect you would. It''s not something widely known... Before the Nazis took over Germany, there was a college that studied sex and gender. They were ahead of their time. Hell, they were ahead of our time. One of the founders was what we now call a trans man. They advocated acceptance and support for people experiencing what they called gender inversion.


    "When Hitler seized power, Nazi youth brigades decided their studies were ''un-German,'' and the school was destroyed. All the books burned in the street. Decades of research-and lives were destroyed. Set us back generations... My parents taught me that as a kid, along with the Torah and Jewish history. I don''t say that to be macabre, but rather that our people died together. Whatever else we are, I consider us brothers and sisters."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    We all fell silent. Direct references to the Holocaust had that effect on most people. Faerie broke the silence.


    "I had no idea. I thought the Holocaust was all about Jews."


    "Hitler''s ''final solution'' was for Jewish people, that''s true, but the Nazis murdered anyone they considered... I guess... ''undesirable.'' Political opponents. Gays and trans folks were brutalized and massacred. Roma, or ''gypsies'', too. In truth, disabled people were the first and most devastated by the Nazi''s genocide. Nazis had enough hate to spread around, and they did."


    "Well, thank God it''s 2009, and Nazis are a thing of the past," August cheered. "Nathan, you''re bumming everybody out. Tell us about your drag persona."


    Nathan lit up and grinned. "Oh, you mean Holly Cost. Yeah, last Halloween, I went in drag and performed "Razzle Dazzle" from Chicago."


    I laughed uproariously with August. Faerie looked appalled. Alex and Deon appeared at once amused, confused, and fearful.


    "That''s hilarious," I said obliviously.


    "No, it''s not! That''s awful. How can you joke about that?" Faerie demanded.


    August and I were stunned. Deon looked down and shrunk in his seat. Alex seemed disappointed and irritated. We looked at Nathan for a response. He appeared off guard but lost none of his affability.


    He shrugged and said, "It''s hard not finding humor in persecution. You can either laugh or run, and I can''t run. I mean, look at me. I am very Jewish. If my options are to laugh or cry, I''d rather laugh. You have to, or life gets too depressing."


    Deon perked up to say, "I feel that."


    Faerie lost some earlier steam but hadn''t cooled completely. She went silent and red in the face. Alex spoke up on her behalf. "Still, it''s weird to pretend you''re a woman just to make crude jokes. The whole concept of drag is sexist. You''re a man wearing a woman''s face like a costume. That''s like blackface or wearing a Native American headdress for Halloween."


    Nathan stopped smiling, but if he was angry, he didn''t show it.


    "Drag is nothing like blackface. Sure, it''s gender performance, but aren''t we all performing gender? How is drag different?"


    Faerie spoke passionately. "I am not performing gender! I am a woman. I am not acting! I don''t go home and stop being a woman."


    Nathan''s composure was deteriorating. "I never suggested otherwise," he said tersely. "Look, I treat you with respect and accept you as you present yourself. Why can''t you extend the same courtesy to drag queens?"


    "Because they get rich and famous pretending to be me, while I get shit on because I don''t dance for tips and wear clown make-up!"


    Faerie''s intensity surprised everyone except Alex, who looked frustrated and sad. August, Deon, and I were too unsure of the subject matter to interject. Nathan, sadly, was getting riled up and defensive. His voice rose an octave and a decibel.


    "No one is pretending to be you. You''re a woman. I''m genderfluid. My identity is just as valid as yours! Look, I''m sorry most people are transphobic, but not everything is about you!"


    Faerie stood up with righteous fury, her chair sliding across the floor. "I should know better than try to be friends with a bunch of white gays. I''ll see myself out."


    "Cough," said Deon.


    "Uhh..." August chimed in.


    "Before dessert?" Nathan asked.


    I stayed quiet but felt insulted. Faerie was already walking downstairs. Alex went after her but stopped. He turned to face the rest of us, looking conflicted and sad. His mouth opened and shut, then he turned and followed Faerie downstairs.


    Nathan sighed in remorse. "Shit, uh... fuck it, let''s uh... have dessert. Anybody want dessert?"


    "I''ll stay for dessert," said Deon, who looked unsure whether to follow them a moment earlier.


    Nathan got up to fetch it from the kitchen. An awkward silence ensued until Nathan filled it with a joke about Passover desserts. His hands trembled as he brought the tray of rugelach, which were like fancy cinnamon rolls with chocolate, hazelnuts, and jam.


    We didn''t say much until they were all eaten. Nathan told a few more campy jokes, and the atmosphere mellowed, enough so that Deon waded back into fraught waters.


    "Can I ask another heavy question?" he requested.


    Nathan looked nervous but said, "Sure."


    "I was thinkin'' ''bout what Faerie before she left. Are Jews white? I never thought about it before, but now it feels strange."


    Nathan sighed dramatically, relishing the opportunity to monologue, dreading the subject matter.


    "You can ask a room full of Jews that question, and a fight will break out. No one agrees on anything, let alone everything. The short answer is it''s complicated. Jews can come from anywhere and in any color. While some disagree, it''s commonly accepted that Jewishness can be both a religion and an ancestry. The religion is Judaism; the ancestry would be ''Jewish People.'' Many ancestral Jews, but not all, are white. Jesus was Jewish, but he was not white. Because of the Diaspora, Jews spread across Europe, Africa, and some even as far as Russia and Asia.


    "Jews that migrated to Europe integrated into whiter cultures. By the time the concept of ''whiteness'' was invented, many ancestral Jews were folded into it. But because antisemitism is ancient and insidious, their whiteness was always conditional. Jews with darker skin were excluded from most white privileges. Even within Jewish communities, there''s a lot of colorism; that''s like the price of admission into whiteness: you''ve got to shit on people darker than you.


    "Incidentally, that''s how it worked for the Irish, too. When war and famine ravaged Ireland, Irish refugees came to America and were treated like garbage. White America eventually accepted and embraced the Irish, but only after they joined police forces and unions that brutalized and excluded Black folks. That''s how the Irish ''earned'' their inclusion into whiteness.


    "But to get to the heart of your question, one has to ask: who are white people? What is whiteness? Am I white?


    "Again, you''re going to get a lot of varied, passionate responses. I can only answer for myself, and you should take it with a grain of salt.


    "I think of whiteness as separate and distinct from having white, pale, or fair skin. Whiteness isn''t so much a biological ancestry as it is a belief system. It''s like a religion, and like any religion, it only has as much power as we give it.


    "Whiteness is a racist illusion. There was never any unified European culture before evil people invented chattel slavery and racism to justify their crimes against humanity. Racism was wielded in the most horrific ways imaginable against our fellow brothers and sisters.


    "And the entire terminology is based on nonsense. I mean, look at Sebastian. He''s the palest person at this table, and even he''s not white. He''s like a pinkish-beige. Or take the word Caucasian. That word denotes a group of people from the Caucasus region near what we call the Middle East, and most Caucasians are brown.


    "So when Faerie called me white, l didn''t bark because whiteness is an idea, and I don''t align myself with it. I get white privileges, I know that, but that''s different from being white. The purpose of whiteness is to divide people based on superficial nonsense. That''s it. Whiteness is racism. Some people disagree, so I tend to keep that opinion to myself."


    The conversation winded down as we finished our dessert. It was getting late, so we thanked Nathan for his hospitality and went home with a lot on our minds.


    May 2009 - Debrief


    "So to summarize: I invited Faerie and Alex like you suggested, and it backfired in a big fucking way," I finished in a huff. "I don''t know what I did wrong, and I''m even more confused now than I was before!"


    The pressures of Dani''s job were getting to her, and the strain was showing. New lines were appearing across her face, and she drank a lot more coffee than she used to. She took a big gulp before responding.


    "I''m so sorry. It''s terrible when Queer family fight each other."


    "Do you think Faerie''s right? Is drag sexist and transphobic?"


    A look flashed across Dani''s face that resembled panic. She didn''t want to weigh in on the issue.


    "I don''t know. It can be those things. Too often, cis gay men will put on drag as an excuse to be racist or sexist or transphobic. They say, ''I''m just playing a character,'' but the character is a reflection of them.


    "Drag queens are given this enormous platform, and too many use that platform to exclude and undermine other members of our family. But I think condemning all drag risks throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Modern drag was invented by trans women to explore and push boundaries within gender.


    "RuPaul''s Drag Race was a hit all over the city, so Ru''s vision of drag has expanded the audience. But the drag Ru showcases is designed to appeal to mainstream audiences. All the contestants on Drag Race are cis men, or at least they pass as cis men. I can see how Faerie might feel excluded and taken advantage of.


    "But two things stand out to me in the story you described. For one thing, Nathan is sort of suggesting that gender is irrelevant. Of course, that''s his perspective, but it might be unkind to say to a transitioning woman. See, to Faerie, her gender is a simple truth. It''s as real as your arm. So when Nathan dismisses gender, in a way, he''s dismissing something real and important to Faerie.


    "Of course, everything you do will offend someone. There''s no pleasing everybody, but it''s important to consider why someone might be offended. Ask if it needs to be said and if you''re punching down. Because that''s the difference between a fair fight and a bully.


    "I see your eyebrows scrunching together. Let me explain. If you make fun of the president, it''s not a big deal because he''s so much more powerful than you. You literally cannot hurt him. But if you make fun of the president for being black, then in essence, you''re making fun of Black people. That would be punching down because you don''t experience race-based persecution. On the other hand, if the president made fun of you, he would be punching down, because you''re effectively powerless to fight back.


    "It''s not always clear, but when drag queens make transgender people the butt of a joke, they''re punching down, because drag queens have a stage, and they can stop doing drag whenever they want.


    "Which brings us to privilege. First of all, I hate that word. It''s become so weaponized it''s almost lost its meaning. We all have various privileges. It doesn''t make someone good or bad or better or worse than anyone else, but it matters because context matters.


    "What stood out to me in your story was how privileged Nathan was relative to the rest of you in that room. For example, Nathan said gender and race were illusions. Maybe he''s right. So what? It only takes a casual glance to see that the illusion has teeth. On average, women are paid less than men for the same job. The darker your skin, the less you''re paid. Nathan''s clever ideas don''t stop the US census from asking you to fill in those boxes marked ''race'' and ''gender.'' Nathan might be right. I don''t know, but what difference would it make either way?


    "Nathan''s opinions are interesting, but he is a fair-skinned, cis male saying race and gender don''t matter. He lives in a society set up to benefit him in innumerable ways. That doesn''t make him right or wrong; just don''t take everything he says as gospel, yeah?"


    I nodded and smiled. "Okay." How lucky was I to have Dani to help me sort through these kinds of things?


    "Anyway," Dani said, "that''s all I got. Maybe I''ll think of something better later. Let''s put a pin in this and come back to it another time. How is your book coming along? Have you written anything since the last chapter you showed me?"


    "Yeah. Oddly enough, this whole disaster got my creative juices going. I wrote two chapters for my new favorite character. Their name is Rowan. I guess they are transfeminine and genderfluid. But they''re a magical, shapeshifting firefox, so those definitions need not apply."


    Chapter 6 - Lilith


    Rowan dreamt of home. Not the Moondial on Crescent, but the place they were born. Inari. Rowan dreamt of obsidian walls and rivers of lava. The home Rowan''s parents built. They taught Rowan how to dream before Rowan could speak. They taught Rowan to master the dream landscape.


    Rowan returned home every night in their dreams. Painstakingly, they remembered every crack and cranny, never permitting themself to forget a single detail. Inside, in the human tradition, portraits of their family covered the walls, preserving every feature, every strand of hair, every signature expression. Days and days spent on each member, mourning and painting, before Lilith came.


    It was in the Crystal Cavern that Lilith first entered Rowan''s dreams. How many days and nights had they spent; starving, exhausted, dreaming of their dead family, wishing to join them, too ashamed to act?


    One night Lilith came to them and offered Rowan a new purpose: revenge. She had a plan to use the Avalyns to get close to Adam. Lilith had been watching Adam for millennia. She knew his weakness, but she was trapped in Nod, unable to strike. Lilith needed a champion, and Rowan needed revenge for their people. That night, Rowan swore their life to Lilith''s cause.


    Since then, Rowan redecorated their astral home. It''s cozier than it was before Adam destroyed the real thing. Rowan added splashes of color and flowers that didn''t exist. There was the bedroom where Rowan and Lilith first made love. So many nights spent dreaming together, talking, plotting, laughing. Lilith had a wicked sense of humor. She could enter anyone''s dreams. Most of the time, she only spied, maybe adding a scary monster for the fun of it. Most humans forget their dreams, making them unsuitable to be her champion. Sometimes Lilith would tell Rowan stories of embarrassed, compromised, or frightened dreamers, cackling madly all the while.


    Rowan could sense Lilith on the edge of their dream. Reaching out with their mind, Rowan found themself in a long hall with a single door.


    Along the walls were engraved stone images; Of a great war between humans and humanoid creatures with bat-like wings and fangs; Above, a dragon, raining destruction; Farther on, a violent scene of Adam and Lilith; Of Lilith falling from a high place; And a shadowy winged creature, come to Lilith, wrapping itself around her legs and body.


    The door, too, was carved, depicting a scene of Lilith and the dark-winged creature, her belly swollen with his child. He entered her from behind, their arms intertwined, shadows encircling them.


    Rowan opened the door, as they had done countless times before, and stepped into a black stone room lit with a dozen blue fire scones. No windows and only one door.


    Lilith stood in the center of the room like a queen, proud and unyielding. A soft smile broke her immortal face. Her waves of black hair shimmered in the flickering blue firelight. Her skin was the color of a foggy sky. Dark wings wrapped around her body like a sleeping bat, or a living, leathery dress. The rest of Lilith was bare except for an elegant gold band she wore on her head. It resembled a crown, but Rowan understood it was more like a wedding ring.


    Lilith beckoned Rowan, her arms outstretched. "My darling," she said.


    Rowan ran to her. They embraced and kissed.


    Lilith became deathly serious. "I''ve been trying to reach you. Arthur is dead. Adam sent Timothy to find evidence or prove innocence. Evidence was found, and Arthur was executed. Soon the children will be as well. I''m sorry, Rowan. We have to move forward with plan B."


    The news hit Rowan like a mace. Before Adam found the islands, humans living on Crescent worshiped the firefox of neighboring Inari. As island leaders, the Avalyn family had been known and trusted for generations. The Avalyns had been Rowan''s surrogate human family for centuries. They felt this loss as they felt the loss of their Inarin family, ripping old wounds wide open.


    "Wait," they pleaded. "Let me go back. You said Rafael and Morgan are still alive. Let me save them. I can do it. I can make it in time. I know it."


    Lilith looked at Rowan with conflicted sympathy. "You can''t go back," she said. "Moondial is lost to us. Your cover was blown. They''ll be looking for you now."


    "I can make myself invisible. Please. I''m not being sentimental. Rafael and Morgan are both skilled warriors. Rafael is the Holy Spirit! If Adam realizes it and captures him, we lose our strongest weapon-"


    "Rafael is not our strongest weapon," Lilith interrupted. She turned from Rowan and walked to a table where chess pieces were spread across a checkerboard. She lifted the black bishop and considered it. Blue sconces lit the room. Her hair shimmered in the light.


    Lilith reached a decision, putting the rook back in place, and saying, "The Holy Spirit cannot fall into Adam''s hands. You might make it in time to rescue them, but if you fail, if the enemy captures Rafael, take him off the board. Adam cannot get hold of another ikon. He''s already too powerful."


    Rowan nodded grimly. Lilith continued.


    "The only option left to us is a direct assassination. For that, we need our strongest weapon on the board. We need Samaal. Save the Avalyn children, then prepare a gateway. When the moon reaches its Perigee, we move Samaal to Eden."


    Rowan almost woke up; they were so scared. Rowan had never met or seen Samaal before, but they knew he was Lilith''s son. They knew enough to worry and wonder what it meant to bring him to Eden. A sacrifice would be needed. Did Lilith intend for Rowan to sacrifice Lyn to open the door?


    Lilith put her hand on Rowan''s face lovingly. "Remember your promise. To avenge your people. We can kill Adam. I need your strength, and we need Samaal on Eden. Are you ready?"


    Rowan nodded resolutely.


    "Good. Wake up, my love. Hurry. Save Rafael, or kill him.

 Chapter 7 - Rowan & the Fallen - Morgan & Jude

    Chapter 7 - Rowan & the Fallen


    Rowan left Sprigga with instructions to care for Lyn in case they didn''t return. Crossing the caverns took considerably less time without the 8-year-old, but time nonetheless.


    Racing up the stairs past the wine cellar, Rowan took the appearance of a guard. As Captain Reynard, Rowan knew each of the guards and their schedules, so they knew exactly who to impersonate.


    Rowan quietly raced up to the bedrooms, checking Arthur''s room first, finding evidence of a fight with blood stains on the floor. Then she searched Rafael''s room and found nothing out of the ordinary. Finally, climbing the stairs to Morgan''s room, they found two guards, Limu and Sifu. Wearing another captain''s face, Rowan asked them what had happened.


    "Steward Avalyn killed Good Brother Timothy, and the Holy Father struck him down. Rafael is missing and assumed dead. Morgan is in a coma," Sifu answered.


    "Or Morgan killed her father in defense before succumbing to grief," Limu rejoined.


    "No one knows what happened but Morgan, and she''s not talking. Rafael was last seen going into the same room we found Morgan unconscious and Steward Avalyn dead. Maybe Adam obliterated him. Maybe Rafael killed his father and jumped over the balcony. Who knows?"


    Rowan''s heart sank. They were too late. "Who is in charge?"


    "Godfather Adam named Milo Meiori Steward of Vulpex," answered Limu.


    Rowan processed it all silently for a moment, then asked, "Can I see Morgan? I might be able to reach her, maybe even wake her up."


    "What are you talking about? What can you do that church-trained medical professionals haven''t already done?"


    "Allow me to demonstrate," Rowan requested, putting swift hands on Sifu and Limu''s foreheads. "Sleep," Rowan ordered, and they collapsed to the floor. Rowan stepped over the guards, opened the door, and locked it behind them.


    There she was: darling Morgan, who Rowan had helped raise since infancy, catatonic. Cold beads of sweat ran down Morgan''s face. She was in pain. Rowan gave in for a moment to despair, then shook themself and their tears, cleared their mind and sat down next to Morgan. Rowan gently caressed Morgan''s face, then rested a hand on her forehead.


    The attack was almost immediate. Rowan was expecting something, but the power and brutality were unlike anything they''d experienced. It was all they could do to withstand the onslaught and erect a defense simultaneously.


    Once within the astral walls of their Inarin home, Rowan narrowed the barriers and felt outward into their psychic surroundings, sensing Morgan, miraculously intact but terrified and suffering immensely. Another presence was occupying Morgan''s mind and body. Rowan couldn''t see it yet in the darkness but sensed its hatred, anger, and dread.


    Then it appeared to them, dressed as a firefox. It resembled Rowan''s father, with key distinctions, particularly in the eyes. The false firefox''s eyes were full of spite and wicked humor.


    "So nice to finally meet," the false firefox greeted cheerfully. "Even coming to me! How marvelously kind you are. You must be the teacher. You''ll be pleased to know that Morgan has held on admirably, but I''m afraid she''s about to break."


    "Let''s skip the pleasantries. What are you?" Rowan demanded.


    It flashed a wry smile. "Haven''t you already guessed? I''m an angel."


    Rowan understood. "Fallen. How are you here? Your kind is supposed to be chained in Hell."


    "Oh, I''m not here. My body is still in Hell, but my mind can travel anywhere I''m invited."


    "So that explains it. Adam summoned you and gave you the body of a simpleton. Someone who couldn''t resist and no one would miss."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Aren''t you the clever one? No wonder you survived the extinction of your people. Not clever enough to stay alive, I''m afraid. You should have stayed in that cave."


    Rowan almost dropped their defenses in shock. It knew about the cavern? Did it know about Sprigga? How?


    The fallen firefox laughed. "Of course, I know about the cave. I even know about your tree-friend and how you''re teaching Lyn magic. The familiar showed us everything. What were you thinking, taking the monkey with you? Adam already sent a missionary to chop that underground forest down to firewood. Should be arriving any minute."


    Rowan panicked. It was over. They were about to lose everything. Their hopes evaporated. The fallen firefox soaked it in with a grin.


    "What did you do to Rafael?" Rowan asked. Their last hope.


    "I threw him over the balcony right before I murdered Arthur and possessed young Morgan here."


    Rowan screamed out. "Why are you doing this? Why serve Adam?" The fallen shrugged.


    "It''s like you said: Adam summoned me. He can banish me as easily, and I don''t especially enjoy Hell. Whereas this is paradise. I''d much rather stay here. It''s like a vacation for me."


    "So you serve Adam because it''s convenient. But why kill Rafael? Do you know what he was?"


    "Of course, I know! You think I want to help Adam steal even more power? Hell no! Better it''s free to reincarnate. How did you manage to channel the Holy Spirit into a body? That''s what I want to know. Maybe I should just possess you and find out for myself."


    "I think you''ll find my mind less hospitable than that of a sixteen-year-old," Rowan threatened.


    The false fox laughed. "That may be. That may be. Still, I think-" it stopped mid-sentence, seeming to have heard something. "Excuse me, I''m being hailed," it said with a grin and then disappeared. Rowan reached out and saw an image of Morgan, still alive with her defenses intact, speaking with the fallen. It lasted but a moment, felt like an eternity and when it finally ended, Rowan was thrown back into their own mind and body.


    Rowan opened their eyes in time to watch Morgan''s eyes open. A sinister grin broke across Morgan''s face as it looked directly at Rowan. It sat up slowly, savoring the moment.


    "So," Morgan said. "Where were we? Oh, right, I was about to possess your body. Well, good news, I already have a body, so I don''t need yours anymore."


    Rowan stared in horror. It looked like Morgan, but it wasn''t Morgan. Her face had never before taken on such a spiteful and malicious quality. Rowan stood and backed slowly toward the door.


    "Don''t worry," Morgan said with a reassuring smile. "Morgan and I made a deal: her body for your life. I''m a man of my word, so you''re free to go. If you hurry, you might make it back before Adam''s missionary arrives."


    Rowan reached the door and opened it without taking their eyes off Morgan, saying, "Morgan, if you can hear me, I will come back for you. We will get this thing out of you."


    Morgan responded, "Sorry, ladies, but this body is mine until it dies."


    Rowan turned and ran as Morgan''s voice echoed down the hall, "Good luck making it back in time!"


    May 2009 - Morgan & Jude


    "Wow. This is thrilling stuff." Dani handed the chapters back to me.


    "You like it?" I asked.


    "I love what you''ve done with the Reynard/Rowan character. That''s a lot of fun. You stuff a lot into these two chapters. Let me see... In six pages, you flesh out Rowan''s backstory, introduce Lilith, establish several new characters and relationships. Then you confront the fallen possessing Morgan. It''s packed. That''s not a critique. The pace rolls along. I wonder if some of this might benefit from more space to breathe."


    "You think it needs more details and pauses?"


    "Maybe. And it''s hard to mourn for Rafael because I didn''t spend any time with him. He and Morgan both existed offstage for most of the story. Even their attack was offstage. Mostly I feel bad for Lyn that her father and brother are dead and her sister is possessed by a demon, but even there, I never saw them interact, so..."


    I shrugged sadly. "Yeah, I see what you mean. I''ma go back and flesh out Morgan''s character soon. I wanted to jump into the conflict, but that''s the sacrifice, right? Establish characters and relationships, or give the reader something exciting?"


    Dani smiled knowingly. "What else happened since our last meeting?"


    I thought for a moment and remembered, "My brother Jude called me. He turns 18 next month, and he wants to come to San Francisco and live with me."


    Dani''s usual placid composure broke in surprise. I didn''t mention my family often. "Are you and Jude close?"


    An itch flared across my chest. I scratched it absentmindedly and answered, "Sort of. When Morgan died, he and I were all the other had, so we were alone, together. We don''t get along... at all, but we understand each other." I shrugged. "We''re brothers."


    Dani''s bespectacled gaze was piercing; her voice, compassionate but firm: "how did Morgan die?"


    My body tensed, and I looked away from Dani around at her office. She shared it with another caseworker. When Dani met with clients, her associate left the room. Was that right? Was I a client? Dani said she was my friend, but it was her job to say that, wasn''t it?


    "It was a car crash," I said finally, scratching my chest again. "Three days before Christmas. It ruined the holiday for me forever."


    Dani sat quietly. Her nod seemed to whisper, ''go on.''

 Chapter 8 - Law of Averages - Sanctuary - Genesis

    December 2002 - Law of Averages


    Morgan was sixteen, riding in the backseat with four of her friends, going home from a Christmas pageant. She played the Virgin Mary. I don''t know what that means, or if it means anything. My life is often like that. I was born 8-8-88. My sister died 12-22-2002.


    I''m a rational person. I know it''s a coincidence. The Law of Averages, you know. In a random sequence of numbers, these things happen.


    Remember I told you I had another sister? Anna was stillborn on 8-8-85. She would have had Turner''s Syndrome. My mother cremated the body, keeping the ashes in a box in her bedroom, always with her, like some cosmic foreshadowing.


    In my gramma''s house, there was a painting of a boy and girl crossing a rickety bridge while a guardian angel watches over them. The sister is a little taller, and she''s comforting her brother and leading them forward. When I was small, I thought it was painted for us: Morgan and me, with Anna as our guardian angel.


    Of course, that was just a coincidence, too. No guardian angel watched over Morgan that night. The mayor''s truck collided with her friend''s Toyota Camry. The car broke in two. Her seatbelt ripped, and Morgan was thrown from the car and smashed into a light post. She was the only casualty.


    The coroner said Morgan died immediately from blunt force trauma to the heart, but days later, I found on the light post where Morgan died a letter. Someone wrote they held her hand as she died, but that meant she lived for a while after being tossed from the car. I suppose one or the other lied to make us feel better. Sometimes I wonder which was true, like a question that haunts me.


    I remember that night so clearly. The way moonlight silhouetted Reba as she collapsed in tears in the doorway. The officer and priest spoke euphemistically about ''an accident'' and ''moved on.'' I remember being confused and anxious because no one would speak straight to me.


    When Tom finally said the words, "Morgan is dead," I didn''t feel anything. I don''t mean that quasi-romantic emptiness that poets write about; I mean, I felt no different. If anything, I felt hungry and more confused. Morgan and I were Irish twins. We went everywhere together. Everyone around me was distraught, but I just wanted to finish eating my General Tso''s chicken, and I couldn''t understand it. Why wasn''t I sad? Didn''t I love her most? Something must be horribly wrong with me, I realized. What kind of monster doesn''t mourn his best friend and sister? I hated myself so completely it brought me to tears. Tom tried to comfort me, but he didn''t understand, and it made me hate myself more because my grief was a lie.


    The weight of reality hadn''t settled in yet. I know that now. I was fourteen, and death wasn''t something I was capable of understanding all at once in that moment. Morgan was dead. I knew that, but for days, for a second every morning, I''d wonder why she hadn''t woken me up early to get ready for school.


    I remember, weeks later, watching a TV show. A character asked her brother to walk her down the aisle, and I thought, ''I bet Morgan will ask me to do that when she gets marri-'' and then I remembered. I couldn''t imagine a future without her in it, not at first. But reality is relentless.


    Morgan''s death broke my mother. Tom carried her home and into bed, screaming and pulling her hair. She stayed in bed for months, smoking weed and hardly eating. It terrified Jude and me. We weren''t very self-sufficient. Morgan was the precocious one. Jude and I were free-spirited troublemakers. With Mom incapacitated, Tom moved in with his pregnant wife and newborn son to "help take care of us."


    I should give Tom a proper introduction. He was thirteen years older than me but five inches shorter, a detail that offended him to his core. Now I look back on Tom with pity, but back then, I loved and hated and feared Tom in equal measure. He was my big brother but also my worst bully. He would hit me, or twist my arm, or threaten me, or belittle me, or anyone else who made him feel insecure, including his wife, Reba. She was also taller than Tom. You''d think Tom would marry a short girl, but Reba had more essential qualities: gullibility and low self-esteem.


    Tom had a pattern, a modus operandi: he finds a girl, turns on the charm, and gets her pregnant within a few months. His charming mask slips before the baby is born, and she has doubts, but after giving birth, after seeing her family together for the first time, she convinces herself it was her mind playing tricks. For a while, they enjoy a beautiful fiction. But reality is relentless, and the next time it asserts itself, she wonders if she made a huge mistake. She considers leaving him. Tom begs. Let''s have another baby, he says, and because she''s pliable and romantic and naive, she says yes, and embraces the fiction once more.


    I called it a pattern because it''s happened three times that I know of. I heard there were others, but Tom swears those babies aren''t his.


    Tom and Reba moved in to "take care of us" as their beautiful fiction began to fall apart. Tom stopped pretending to be kind or thoughtful. Reba was pregnant with baby number two, and the combined pressures of pregnancy, early motherhood, grief, a strained marriage, and the distance from her family in Ohio, all brought Reba to a state of hysteria semi-regularly. Tom was either unable or unwilling to help his pregnant wife and child, so baby Connor watched a lot of Shrek, and I became both nanny and family therapist while Tom went to "work." I put work in quotes because Tom couldn''t keep a job for more than a few months, and I can guess what he did between jobs.


    What I''m about to say will seem arrogant or delusional, but it''s the truth. I only mention it because it''s relevant to my family dynamic: I was the smartest person in my family. I don''t have any evidence to back up that claim, except everyone in my family knew it as an uncontested fact. I don''t think that makes me particularly intelligent: it just meant my family was very dumb, except Morgan and Jude, but she died, and he was three years younger than me, so I had a head start. Jude is clever, though, and funny, but the ugly truth is, we forgot about him completely.


    Jude was eleven when his big sister died. His mom lost herself in grief, and, I''m ashamed to say, so did I. We were all so absorbed in our own selfish depressions. We couldn''t, or wouldn''t, see how lost and alone he was. The feelings I described earlier, he experienced, too. We could have bonded. God knows he tried. I just... didn''t want to.


    That''s how I was back then. I didn''t want to bond or connect. I didn''t want to talk to anyone. I didn''t want to go to school and see strangers laughing. I hated them. I hated my teachers, who looked at me with compassion and sadness and gave me passing grades even though I ignored my homework. I hated the kids who were suddenly nice to me after years of tormenting me. I hated them most of all. How dare they be kind to me now. A few bullies kept it up, for whatever reason, but it didn''t sting like it used to. Their barbs and shoves seemed so distant from me now. I developed a morbid sort of appreciation for them. At least my bullies were consistent. My hatred for them was something clean and uncomplicated.


    Besides, they were quaint compared to the bully at home. Which brings me back to my earlier mention of intelligence, or lack thereof. The point is Mom, Tom, and Reba all came to me with their emotional and intellectual quandaries because they thought I was smart. The truth is I was a stupid child. I was fourteen, pretending to be grown-up because it was easier than processing my grief. More and more, I pretended to be someone else, somewhere else. I pretended I was cynical and superior. I lied to myself, and my family believed the lie.


    It''s hardly surprising. Self-deception comes naturally in my family. Tom convinced himself he was a hero, rescuing his family from the precipice. Mom convinced herself Tom was trustworthy, that she hadn''t raised a violent sociopath. I convinced myself I was intelligent. Reba convinced herself her marriage could be saved. And we all supported each other in our delusions because that''s what family does.


    Speaking of delusions, Mom and Tom became convinced that pigs were spying on them. You see, the truck driver that T-boned the car my sister was in happened to be the mayor. Mom sued him for Morgan''s death. After a year of legal dancing, Mom was awarded nearly $200,000.


    But in the intervening months and sometime after, Tom became convinced that the mayor was compelling police to tail the family in search of dirt or whatever. I don''t know. But I know Mom smoked pot, and in 2003 that was still illegal in the state of Washington, so she got paranoid easily and not without good cause.


    I vividly remember the day Mom got the settlement check. We had all abstractly discussed what might be done with the money. I suggested buying an RV so we''d never be homeless again. Jude wanted to open a restaurant. Reba suggested putting money aside for Jude and me to pay for college. Tom wanted a new Dodge Truck with a V8 engine. Mom wanted to travel the world. I guess she compromised (?) by buying two Dodge trucks with V8 engines. Seeing Mom and Tom drive those giant gas guzzlers home for the first time, I had a vision of our future.


    Do you know most people who win the lottery are broke again in about a year? They call it a curse, but it''s simple: most people who win the lottery have been poor all their lives. They''ve never seen that much money. They think it''ll last forever, so they spend it all. Money management is for rich people, and most lotto winners haven''t been rich long enough to know how to manage their fortune. By the time they figure it out, their fortune is spent. That''s a lot like what happened to my family.


    Mom didn''t buy a house, or a restaurant, or an RV; nor did she set money aside for college. Instead, she rented two jumbo-sized Uhaul trucks, and we packed all our belongings and drove across the country for a month. Mom didn''t know where we were going, but she knew she wanted to leave Washington, so we wandered. We drove to Nevada, then Colorado, then Texas, and finally ended up in Montana, for some reason.


    Chapter 8 - Sanctuary


    Apple had never felt more at home. Castle Moondial was stiflingly comfortable, not at all suited to a monkey. More than anything else, Apple wanted to climb trees in a forest and be carefree, but she couldn''t because in the center of Apple''s forehead was a gem. It separated her from the wild, strange cave animals surrounding her. But in this underground forest, Apple was free to be an animal again.


    Sprigga, it turns out, was a playful tree spirit with boundless energy. When Rowan left to rescue Rafael and Morgan, Sprigga took to caring for Lyn immediately. They played games of tag, hide and seek, and throwing contests until Lyn was finally exhausted again. The young girl was presently sleeping on a mound of soft moss.


    Apple was still wide awake. She didn''t need to sleep. Another consequence of the gem in her forehead; she never tired. She could sleep if she wanted, but for the first time in her existence, Apple was free and in a forest. She was too happy and excited to sleep. Instead, she chased the bizarre green cave animals, and climbed the tallest tree in the forest. Fully three times larger than any other tree in the forest, its branches were wide and soaked up nearly all the sunlight that broke through from a crack in the ceiling. Apple climbed as high as she dared and took in her surroundings.


    Sanctuary was massive, with rows of carved stone separating the forest into four equal parts. Each quadrant was distinct, with unique plants and animals. Two were blooming with gorgeous flowers, while another was dark and deadly with thorny vines and sinister-looking plants. The fourth district was mainly water, and plants that grew underwater. Colorful birds filled the air, and other animals and insects of all sorts lived and died in the cavern, having never seen the sky. Apple wondered which of them was more trapped.


    Suddenly Sprigga''s face appeared in the bark of the branch that Apple was clinging.


    "You should be careful when exploring the forest. Some of the plants and animals are carnivorous," said Sprigga with a voice of a buzzing beehive.


    Apple immediately worried about Lyn''s safety. "Would anything hurt Lyn? Should I stay with her?" she asked frantically.


    "No, don''t worry. I can sense everything that happens in Sanctuary. I won''t let any predators get near Lyn while she sleeps," Sprigga said calmly, and Apple relaxed.


    "Forgive me," Sprigga continued, "but I''ve never seen a creature like yourself before. I wonder, were you born with that stone in your head?"


    Apple touched her gem absent-mindedly. "No," she answered. "This was installed shortly after I was born. It gives me knowledge and energy."


    Sprigga''s face rearranged itself into a look of surprise and awe. "That''s powerful magic."


    Apple continued absent-mindedly, "I don''t remember anything before the gem. It''s as though I woke up for the first time to see His face."


    "Whose face?" Sprigga asked.


    "The Godfather''s," Apple whispered as waves of reverence and dread washed over her. In the back of her mind, Apple knew something was about to happen. Every familiar on the island knew. But Apple couldn''t think clearly about it, like a dream from long ago. All the details were missing. But she sensed it. The Godfather was making moves. Apple was so preoccupied in thought that she didn''t notice Sprigga''s reaction. The bark on Sprigga''s face transformed into an expression of deep distrust, fear, and uncertainty. But when Apple looked back, Sprigga''s usual mild demeanor had returned.


    "I''ve never seen a creature like you, either," she said. "If you don''t mind my asking, what¡­ are you? How do you know everything that happens in the forest, and how are you in a tree right now?"


    Sprigga chuckled, and it sounded like wood knocking together. "I am the tree. I''m its hands, eyes, and ears. The roots of this Great Oak touch the roots of every other tree. So I''m connected to every tree in Sanctuary. I hear their thoughts and feel what they feel. And in turn, they see through my eyes. They''re even listening to our conversation."


    That surprised Apple. It hadn''t occurred to her that trees had thoughts or feelings, let alone that they could listen. It made her feel even smaller than usual.


    "What are the trees saying now?" Apple asked, not knowing why.


    Sprigga was silent for a moment. "They''re divided. The vines and thorny bushes are frightened. But the flowering trees are grateful to have guests. It can be a bit boring after a few hundred years with no one to talk to but the birds. The fruit trees ask if you''re hungry. They''re very proud of their produce. We''ve been cultivating the sweetest, juiciest pomegranates for centuries."


    It had been hours since Apple last ate. Likewise, Lyn would soon wake up hungry.


    "Please give my thanks to the fruit trees. It would be good to collect some food for when Lyn wakes."


    "Wonderful idea," responded Sprigga. "I''ll meet you at the base of the Oak, and we''ll go gathering." Sprigga''s face disappeared and the tree''s usual bark pattern returned.


    Apple climbed down slowly, carefully, half distracted. Something was coming, but she could do nothing to stop it. She didn''t even know what it was or when it would arrive.


    When Apple reached the forest floor, she saw that Lyn had already woken. She was hungry and also distressed at Rowan and Apple''s absence. Apple comforted Lyn and tended to her worries; before long, she forgot about her own. Once Lyn was settled and ready, Sprigga guided them through the forest. They passed by one of the carved stone barriers, and Apple saw engravings with what might be names and dates. Then she realized the walls weren''t walls at all, but burial chambers entombing countless bodies.


    The fruit grove was expertly managed, with orange, pomegranate, pear, cherry, and almond trees neatly arranged with just enough space for each tree to flourish. The fruits looked ripe and full. Somehow the entire grove not only grew but thrived in this underground cavern.


    "How is this possible?" Apple asked.


    As Sprigga answered, a nearby tree branch lowered a pomegranate into Sprigga''s clawed hand, "I told you. My roots touch the roots of every tree in Sanctuary. I collect the sunlight and distribute it to every other growing being here. It''s the same with the water. My roots go deep enough to touch the ocean, so I transfer water to everyone else here."


    Sprigga opened the pomegranate and gave one half to Apple and the other to Lyn, and the two ate merrily. They wandered the grove and sampled the fruits and nuts. Everything tasted delicious. They were contently fed and laughing when all of a sudden, Apple became paralyzed. She couldn''t move or speak or even blink. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and shut her down.


    Apple heard a scream from behind her that sounded like the cry of a giant bird. In Apple''s periphery, Sprigga narrowly dodged a flying, spinning saw. Lyn grabbed Apple, shook her, and tried to make her run, but not a muscle was moved. Finally, Lyn carried Apple away from the attacker. With her face now in Lyn''s shoulder and her eyes drying and painful from her inability to blink, Apple could see nothing. But she wasn''t entirely without options. Apple could still think and process what her senses detected, and she had an idea.


    The attacker must also have a familiar, Apple reasoned, because she sensed them earlier. She could transfer her perspective to the eyes of the attacker''s familiar. Apple reached into the Aether and linked with the nearest familiar, a giant hawk.


    Apple shifted perspective.


    From the bird''s eye, Apple could see the entire forested cavern. The hawk had entered the cave through the crack in the ceiling and circled above them. Secured by a harness to the hawk''s belly rode a man with golden hair. The rider wielded four metallic disks, which spun in the air, occasionally shooting in Sprigga''s direction and then returning like yo-yos. Sprigga was on the ground fighting valiantly, narrowly evading the rider''s attacks. Vines shot out of the forest floor like spears at high velocity, but the rider deflected Sprigga''s attacks and cut down the vines with his disks.


    Meanwhile, Lyn was carrying Apple''s frozen body away from the battle, but neither the rider nor the hawk lost sight of them. The fight lasted mere seconds before one of the flying saws carved Sprigga in two. Sprigga''s body fell to the ground and was swallowed immediately by vines and moss. The hawk stopped circling and instead dove toward Lyn and Apple, claws outstretched. It was about to swoop down and fly away with Lyn when out of nowhere, a ball of fire shot through the air and struck the hawk dead in one eye and out the other.


    Apple, watching from the hawk''s perspective, felt it die. The force and trauma knocked her back into her own body with whiplash. She blacked out and collapsed in Lyn''s terrified arms.


    Rowan walked toward the giant bird''s dead body with a fireball in each hand, breathing heavily, exhausted from running through the caverns, and devastated at having lost Rafael and Morgan. But they had made it in time. Lyn was still alive.


    Unfortunately, so was the rider. He crawled from under the hawk''s corpse, bloodied and bruised from the fall and looking angry. He wore handsome leather armor and had pale features. The flying disks returned and spun around the missionary. Using two disks as shields, he blocked every fireball Rowan threw at him while using the other two disks to attack. Rowan ducked and dodged as best they could, but his attacks were relentless and precise. Try as they might, Rowan couldn''t keep up. More than once, a disk stopped midair, reversed direction, and cut Rowan, narrowly missing a vital area. They would have been cleaved in two were it not for Lyn.


    The young girl was hiding behind a fallen tree, far from the two fighters, but she still had the crystal filled with mana she had gathered in the crystal caverns. Lyn summoned the mana stored in the crystal, and shrunk it into a blinding bright ball. It couldn''t hurt the missionary, but it might distract him.


    Lyn threw the ball of light at the missionary''s face. He tried to dodge and wave the magelight away, but his hands went through it like mist, and still, it shined in his face. The missionary stepped on one of his disks, and it carried him into the air, away from Rowan and Lyn''s attacks. The other three disks spun around him defensively.


    Meanwhile, Sprigga had collected their nutrients to the Great Oak and stepped out of the giant tree again. With Sprigga recovered, the battle was now three-on-one.


    Even with an airborne advantage, the missionary could only defend himself. The fight had turned, and it looked to soon be over. In a desperate act, the missionary changed tactics and flew toward Sprigga. At first, they thought he meant to attack the forest spirit, and Sprigga defended themselves accordingly, but he flew over Sprigga and instead sent all three available disks to see the Great Oak down the middle.


    Sprigga''s scream was horrible and heartbreaking, collapsing to the ground. Rowan threw fireballs at a mad speed, but the missionary dodged and flew around the Oak. Meanwhile, the disks carved the Oak down, sawing off branches at rapid, sadistic speed while Sprigga screamed in agony. Rowan ran and threw fireballs in a vain attempt to stop the assault, but it was too late. In a matter of seconds, the Great Oak of Sanctuary was reduced to a large tree trunk. Sprigga was on the ground, life fading away, and it was all Rowan could do to reach them in time, to hold their hand as Sprigga''s body again turned to dust, this time for the last time. Rowan yelled in anguish and rage, turning to face the floating missionary, still contending with Lyn''s blinding magelight.


    What neither the missionary nor Lyn knew was Rowan wasn''t in their true firefox form. The anthropomorphic shape they allowed certain humans to see was worn for comfort and convenience. Rowan''s true self was fire, pure and wild. Rowan''s people used to jump into rivers of lava and swim beneath the crust of Eden. The skin on Rowan''s body began to melt and crackle away as flames erupted from within, slowly at first but growing in size and intensity. All the while, Rowan stared daggers at the missionary.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The missionary, meanwhile, from his vantage in the air, didn''t appear especially concerned until he threw two disks in Rowan''s direction. By the time the disks hit Rowan, their physical body had already been reduced to ashes. Only flames remained, in the shape of a giant fox. The disks flew through the flames like leaves on the wind, dealing about as much damage. Once he saw that his weapons were useless against Rowan''s true form, the smug confidence left his face. He sent the disks spinning through Rowan twice again, but the flames were only fanned.


    Rowan leapt into the air. An explosion erupted beneath their flamed paws, setting the surrounding area on fire. The missionary redirected all three shields to defend himself from the attack, but Rowan spun midair instead of attacking him head-on. Rowan''s tails swiped from the side, ignoring the shields and passing through them. The missionary was burned instantly and severely. Agony distracted him, and he lost focus of his weapons. All four disks fell to the cave floor. The missionary also fell, in flames and screaming, until he struck his head on a stone and died instantly; his corpse still on fire.


    Rowan landed gracefully and returned to their anthropomorphic shape. Maintaining their true form demanded an immense amount of energy and left them exhausted after. On Inari, the volcano used to replenish a firefox''s magic, so Rowan could maintain their true form indefinitely, but with Inari destroyed and the volcano now a steaming ruin under the ocean, Rowan had to rely on reserves of energy, and there wasn''t much left.


    Rowan looked around and saw the entire Sanctuary was burning. Fireballs were damaging enough, but when Rowan''s true firefox form was unleashed, much of the forest was set on fire. It was too late to do anything but flee now. Adam knew where they were, Sprigga was dead, and Lyn was in danger. Rowan ran to her. She was crying in fear, rocking and holding Apple''s limp body. Rowan looked down at Apple with disgust and hatred and briefly considered throwing her into the fire. But Rowan was a soldier and had orders to follow. So Rowan picked up Apple and instructed Lyn to follow as they ran to a far corner of the cave.


    The flames were growing and expanding, and the sound of cracking wood became deafening as Rowan struggled to find an opening in the cave wall. Lyn tried to stop crying, but the flames were getting closer, and she was terrified. Finally, Rowan found the secret opening, something impossible to find if one didn''t know to look for it. Rowan pushed hard against a thin crack in the cave wall and revealed a narrow passage. The three of them squeezed through quickly, and Rowan pushed the wall closed behind them, again trapping them in absolute darkness. This time, Lyn was the first to summon her magelight. A silvery, green, blue, red, and orange swirling orb lit their surroundings, a long, narrow passageway. Lyn''s tears quickly dried as she found a way to be useful. Rowan carried Apple''s still unconscious body and ordered Lyn to lead the way. They continued walking in silence for a long time until they finally reached what looked like a dead-end. Once again, Rowan found a hidden crack and pushed it wide open.


    They stepped out into the clean ocean air for the first time in over a day. It was still the dark of night, but the moon shined brightly above them, illuminating everything with a pale, eerie light. Not far from where they emerged was a small wooden shack, seemingly built on the beach in the middle of nowhere for no obvious purpose, but Rowan knew its purpose, marched over to it, and ripped the door open with the strength and frustration of someone with nothing left to lose. Lyn followed meekly behind, still scared but now of Rowan''s rage. It had been a traumatic few hours for the poor girl, and Apple was still unconscious.


    Inside the wooden shack was a simple bed and emergency supplies. Against the wall opposite the door leaned a small canoe.


    ''Come here,'' Rowan signaled to Lyn with one hand, the other still holding Apple by the throat. Lyn stepped forward obediently, eyes never leaving Apple''s unconscious body.


    ''Will she be okay?'' Lyn asked, on the verge of tears.


    Rowan''s face took a cold and frightening expression. Their finger fell on the bed with intention and force.


    Lyn trembled but obeyed. ''Can I sleep with Apple?'' she asked.


    Rowan hesitated for a brutal few seconds before answering, ''Of course,'' and laid Apple next to Lyn in the bed. The girl put her arms around her monkey and tried to find solace.


    Then, just as she had done to the guards outside Morgan''s room, Rowan put their hand on Lyn''s forehead and said, "Sleep."


    Lyn passed out immediately. Then Rowan ripped Apple out of Lyn''s arms and carried her outside and to the ocean.


    The monkey was still unconscious. It will be easy, Rowan decided. A mercy killing.


    But as the waves brushed Rowan''s ankles, they stopped to look at the stars.


    A moment passed before Rowan turned around and laid Apple gently on the sand. Then Rowan lit a small fire and leaned over the monkey''s head.


    Delicately, with sharp claws, Rowan pried the jewel from the monkey''s forehead. It took some doing. Adam somehow grafted the stone directly into the bone and frontal brain.


    The stone came out with a cracking pop, and blood filled the space. Rowan sacrificed some of their quintessence to heal the hole in the monkey''s forehead.


    Lyn would never forgive Rowan for killing her precious Apple.


    After the stone was removed, the monkey was still breathing. A bright scar marked her forehead. The monkey would never speak or sign again. Perhaps she might carry the memories of her time as a familiar, but Apple was now simply a monkey.


    Rowan carried her back to the shack and laid her on a shelf where she might heal or die undisturbed.


    After locking Lyn safely in the shack, Rowan walked down the beach for nearly an hour. It was approaching dawn, but the moon was so big and bright in the sky it might have been noonday. The cliffside seemed to glow in the moonlight, juxtaposed with sharp, dark shadows carving out slices of inky blackness.


    The cool beach wind was crisp and bracing, mist collected in Rowan''s fur. Eventually, Rowan reached a modest beach house, one of the many secret homes that Rowan''s people built on the Vulpen Islands long before the first human ships landed.


    The beach house was a cover. The real house was behind it, in the mountain stone itself. But Rowan had spent enough time in caves for one day. They only needed one object. Inside the modest cabin was a full-length mirror, set in wood, and carved with intricate engravings.


    Rowan dragged the mirror out into the moonlight and sat next to it. Rowan held the familiar''s jewel in their palm and then placed their hand on the mirror so the jewel and mirror were touching.


    Rowan closed their eyes to meditate. Lilith would be waiting.


    Traveling through a dreamscape, Rowan came to Lilith''s hallway and the intricately detailed and graphic door to Lilith''s astral chamber. Rowan knocked, and the door opened.


    In the center of a dark, gothic room stood Lilith, barefoot, statuesque, and haunting.


    Rowan ran to Lilith, who embraced them in excitement and sympathy.


    Lilith kissed Rowan tenderly on the forehead. "My darling, I''m so sorry for your loss. We will avenge them, I swear to you. Adam will pay for everything he''s done. Tonight, I show you how. Is everything ready?"


    "Yes. I''m at the beach house with the mirror. I''m using the familiar''s jewel to fuel the bridge. Will you come to Eden?"


    Lilith shook her head sadly. "I''m bound to this place. I can''t leave Nod. Not yet, at least."


    Rowan sighed softly. "Okay. Then I just need your mirror''s location and we can begin."


    Lilith caressed Rowan''s face gently and smiled. "I know, my darling. I want to feel you truly in my arms, too. Our day will come. That''s my second promise to you tonight."


    Rowan nodded and tried to feel better despite themself.


    "I believe you," Rowan said, and maybe they even meant it.


    "Good," Lilith smiled and kissed Rowan again on the forehead.


    Rowan opened their eyes and knew where to find Lilith''s mirror. The magic flowed out of them and into the mirror. The reflection shifted and came into focus. On the other side stood Lilith, precisely as she had appeared in Rowan''s dreams. Next to Lilith was a tall, handsome man with dark features and long black hair tied into a braid.


    "Now," Rowan shouted.


    The dark man next to Lilith ran toward the mirror and leapt through it. After him came several monstrous flying creatures with large fangs and claws.


    As he and his beasties passed through the mirror, Rowan felt the jewel''s mana drain. Familiars were supposedly connected to an infinite mana source, but it appeared the jewels themselves were finite. It crumbled to dust after the eighth beastie flew through, and the connection to Lilith''s mirror was severed.


    Circling all around her, grotesque devils flew and screamed in vicious delight. The man stood nearby. He was smiling like a kid and jumping on the sand as if he''d never seen sand before. Then he ran toward the ocean to touch the water, but he was afraid of the waves, so he ran back laughing.


    "So this is Eden," he exclaimed with joyous awe. He wore simple black leather. His brown eyes shined like obsidian in the moonlight. He was beautiful and frightening, not unlike his mother, but he seemed so much softer, almost child-like.


    "Hello. I''m Rowan," they greeted him.


    "Yes, I know. Um¡­ hello. I''m Samaal. It''s good to meet you," he said with a shy smile. He wasn''t at all what Rowan had expected.


    But before Rowan could reconcile their expectations with reality, a loud blast came from up the beach where Lyn was sleeping. Rowan sprinted toward the shack. Samaal followed, and so did the flying devils, but they arrived too late.


    The shack door had been blown open, and thick smoke filled the air and was carried away by the strong beach winds. Lyn was gone. Rowan screamed and panicked. They searched the area, and the devils searched from the skies, but the only clue they found was on the bed where Lyn had slept: a single black raven''s feather.


    New Year''s Eve, 2003 - Genesis


    In a motor lodge outside of Bozeman, surrounded by virgin snow-capped peaks and icy cliffs, we would move into our new temporary home on the 1st of January. But first, Tom and Reba would have one last fight.


    When the argument first broke, I picked up little Connor and baby Carrie and moved them to safety. I haven''t yet mentioned how attached I was to Connor. When he learned how to walk, he walked to me.


    The night Morgan died, Connor stumbled over to me. I held him close and cried for the first time and felt a miserable sort of relief. He was my buddy, and I was his.


    Protecting Connor from Tom was more important to me than anything. When Tom was away at "work," I pleaded with Reba to take the kids and leave Tom. I''d ask her why she stayed with a man who hit her, who hurt her children, but she loved him, she said. She was alone in Washington. Where would she go? How could she leave? She spent all day at home taking care of the kids. There was no time to make friends or chase opportunities.


    Meanwhile, Tom grew tired of his dull, simple wife. Just before we left Washington, he found a new girlfriend named Karina. She was a young, buxom blonde, smarter than Tom was used to, and even funny. I might have liked her if I didn''t think she was into Tom for the money and the drama.


    For some dumb, fucked-up reason, Tom decided to bring Karina with us on our month-long trek across the states. That went over as smoothly as you''d expect, considering Tom''s ex-wife drove the other Uhaul. Yeah, they divorced (actually, they were never legally married, but they called each other husband and wife for a bit until they didn''t).


    So it should surprise no one that Tom and Reba fought bitterly and frequently on our roundabout voyage. I could tell when a fight was brewing. I knew when Conner and Carrie needed to be secured in another room. I''d seen it played out dozens of times, but it was worse those days. Before, when Tom hurt one of us, it was a demonstration of force but also a show of control, of benevolent restraint. He thought of himself as a hero, remember. He used to twist my arm until it almost snapped, but it never did. He always let go just before lasting damage was done, and then he''d smile as if he had rescued me.


    But that was before. On this particular night, a loathing filled the air between Tom and Reba. Karina... well, she didn''t help. For the most part, Karina ignored Reba and avoided her, but there was no respect between them. But on this particular night, Karina said something snide and dismissive, and Reba blew up. She called Karina vile names. Karina left the room at Tom''s behest, but then Reba turned her fury on him. I shut the door to Conner and Carrie''s room and stood sentinel, as I''d done dozens of times before. I thought I could protect Reba. Sometimes I stood between Tom and Reba. Sometimes I tried to pull him off her. These days I wonder if my presence agitated the situation because Tom loved an audience. I was so naive and stupid.


    Reba shouted something vicious and hateful, and Tom slapped her across the face. I ran to Reba, but before I could do anything, Tom grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the couch. I pulled Tom by the shoulders, but he turned and punched me full in the stomach. I collapsed, gasping for air and crying. Tom turned and grabbed Reba by the skull, pressing his thumbs against her eyes and shaking her head into the couch as she screamed, and Mom screamed, and Jude watched and cried, and I writhed, useless on the floor.


    Karina reentered, and immediately, Tom let go of Reba''s skull. Reba fled the room. Tom stood calmly and reasonably explained that Reba was asking for it, and everything was fine. I watched with muted horror and disgust as Mom and Karina nodded along to Tom''s crafted version of events. I hated them all in that moment. Even poor Jude, as he nodded along with them, tears at bay. Jude knew better. Jude knew Tom was evil, and Mom was delusional, but God, he was so small. What could he do? I left them to their lies, returned to Conner and Carrie, told them everything was okay, and held them close.


    The police came promptly. Reba finally had enough. She told them everything. They arrested Tom, put Mom in handcuffs for interfering, and facilitated Reba''s escape to Ohio with the kids. I carried Conner to the caddie that took them away. I still remember the look on Reba''s face of sadness and joy, regret and relief, as she hugged me goodbye. And I remember Conner crying when I shut the door and never saw them again.


    I think of that night as the worst of my life, which might surprise you since it has a happy ending. After all, Reba finally took my advice, the kids would be safe from Tom forever, and no one died. I got what I wanted.


    Tom was released from jail a few days later, sadly, and the rest of us moved into a gorgeous log house over a buffalo pass, where Native Americans once chased buffalo to their deaths. Bones could still be found at the bottom of the cliff.


    Livingston, Montana was a retreat town for rich skiing enthusiasts. Surrounded by mountains, it was a picturesque wonderland in the winter. The view of the surrounding mountains covered in snow is, to this day, one of the most breathtaking sights I''ve ever seen. It was the home Mom had always wanted. It had high ceilings, and everything was polished wood. It had big open windows that looked out onto town; at night, the lights in the dark distance were a spectacle.


    We stayed in Mom''s perfect home for less than a year. Remember what I said about lotto winners? The house was outside our means, especially with two new trucks and moving expenses. Mom never had that kind of money before, and she thought it would last forever. But once we moved in, Mom took a look at her bank statements, and things went from bad to worse.


    She resigned herself to finding work, something she detested. She couldn''t afford the lifestyle she wanted on her own, so she convinced Tom to pay her rent. He found work off-and-on, as was his habit, so rent was inconsistent, and even when it was consistent, they still fought over money. The thing is, my mother loves money. She''s a greedy, grubby person. Tom agreed to pay rent, no big deal, but it wasn''t enough and never would be. She always needed more money.


    She didn''t want to work. She abhorred labor of any kind, including the household variety. I had washed the dishes since I was nine. Morgan used to clean the bathrooms. It became Jude''s chore when she died. Mom didn''t cook or clean or wash clothes. She used to scream for me to bring her a glass of coffee or water because she couldn''t be bothered to get out of bed. Rent was never enough because, deep down, Patsy wanted Tom to dump Karina and spend the rest of his life taking care of her.


    They fought everyday like a married couple over anything and everything but always money. Jude told us all he thought about suicide, but no one listened. I found a job at a movie theater to get away from home. At work and school, I kept to myself and said nothing to anyone. The students in my classes called me ''The Boy Who Never Smiles'' because no one knew my name.


    One morning, Patsy yelled to wake me up, "Bastian, come quick. Karina has a knife, and she''s threatening to stab it up her pussy to kill the baby." I was 15.


    I rushed downstairs and saw Karina pacing like a madwoman on the wrap-around porch. Everyone else was in the kitchen. Karina was muttering invective, trembling, and holding a large kitchen knife.


    "What the Hell did you do?" I accused Tom.


    "Nothing! We went to a party, and someone slipped her something. She''s coming down from a bad trip."


    "Jesus Christ. And she''s pregnant?!"


    Tom shrugged. Fucking dumbass.


    I stepped out onto the porch. Karina and I had become friends. I liked her. She trusted me. More than the rest of my family, at least. Certainly more than she trusted Tom, considering his dumb ass was hiding in the kitchen.


    "What''s going on?" I asked her.


    "I''m jonesing and- and I want some crack!"


    "Well, I can''t help with that but I can sit with you, if you like. We can talk shit, or- I read a good joke online. You wanna hear it?"


    "No! I don''t wanna fucking talk! I want. Crack!"


    "I hear you. You''re hurting. You want crack. But that''s what''s hurting you now. Taking more will hurt you again. The only way the pain stops is to ride it out. So I''ll sit here with you for as long as you need."


    As I said this, Karina began cutting her jeans with the knife, haphazardly, until the knife slipped, and she cut her forehead. She screamed in rage and threw the knife, holding her face and crying.


    Quickly and quietly, I grabbed the knife and opened the kitchen door, handing it off to Jude, who was watching everything. He was 12.


    "Nice work!" whispered Patsy, with a phone to her ear. "I''m on the line with police dispatch. Someone''s on their way."


    I panicked for a second. Then I grabbed a fresh towel and returned to the patio to comfort Karina. She was sobbing and holding her eyes, blood running down her hands and cheeks.


    I touched her shoulder gently. "Let me help, please. I have a towel."


    She held fists to her eyes and shook her head. "I hurt my baby! Oh, God. What have I done?"


    I sat beside her, shoulders touching, bringing the towel to her wound. I said, "Hey. One mistake won''t ruin the kid''s life. Kids are tough. Besides, if you''re not ready, I''ll take you to the clinic myself. I don''t have a driver''s license, but I stole mom''s car for a midnight joyride a few times. I can do it again."


    Karina laughed, then she saw flashing lights up the road. She looked at me, terrified.


    "Mom called the pigs. If they see you like this, they''ll 50-51 you, best case. Go to Jeanie''s house. Sleep. Drink lots of water. Go, quick, before they reach the driveway."


    Karina''s expression said everything. She hugged me, leaving blood on my shirt, and then leapt off the balcony to run down the buffalo pass, finally jumping a fence into a neighbor''s yard and disappearing down the road.


    The police came and went while I took a shower to wash the blood off my neck.


    Later I learned that Jeanie helped Karina come down, took her to an abortion clinic, and even paid for her plane ticket back to Washington. I never saw her again.


    So you can imagine why I spent all my free time in a book or a game or some other form of escapism. I studied religion and mythology. I read His Dark Materials, A Song of Ice and Fire, The Vampire Chronicles, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Crown of Stars, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Dragonriders of Pern, A Brief History of Time, Hitchhiker''s Guide to the Galaxy, and more that I''ve forgotten. I saw every movie that came out that year. I played Elder Scrolls nonstop. I was desperate to escape my miserable existence but also desperate for answers I didn''t know I needed.


    That was the beginning of my fantasy world. It started as a question: where did Morgan go? Will I ever see her again? I was raised to believe in God and Jesus Christ. Morgan was baptized, so if there was a heaven, she was supposed to be in it. But the more I learned about Christianity''s history, the more repulsed I was by it. The corruption. Colonization. Missionaries. The Crusades. The Inquisition. It was all inhumane. What kind of God would condone such evil? And did such a God deserve worship?


    And meanwhile, I was realizing I liked men, and if those TV Christians were right, that meant I was going to Hell, and I''d never see my sister again. That terrified me. For five years, I spoke of it with no one. Morgan was the only person who knew. She confronted me about it months before her death. She told me she loved me no matter what. We didn''t talk about it again, and she never told anyone, taking my secret to her grave.


    I hid myself away as much as possible but couldn''t hide completely. I bought a sexy magazine of men boning, and it was discovered at work. They fired me. I was so humiliated and scared my family would find out, I panicked and got on a bus to Bozeman.


    I wasn''t thinking clearly. The plan was to get a job that night and pray that my family never learned the truth. It wasn''t a very good plan, and unsurprisingly, it didn''t work. I filled out some applications, but no one interviewed me or offered me a job, and as night fell, I realized I was stranded 20 miles from home, and the bus stopped running half an hour ago.


    I called Mom and asked for a ride. She said I should have planned better. It wasn''t her responsibility to pick me up. I got out there by myself, and I could get back by myself, and then she hung up the phone.


    I had no friends in Montana and nowhere to go. I was stranded. I cried and felt sorry for myself, wandering the city for an hour or more, going nowhere, growing increasingly disconsolate. And also terrified because I was sure my family would learn I bought gay porn, and my life would be Hell from then on. Tom would humiliate me and call me a faggot every chance he got. Mom would cry because it meant I''d burn forever in Hell. Maybe they''d disown me.


    My misery and fear consumed me until nothing was left but self-loathing. I was useless without Morgan. She was my other half: conscientious and grounded, whereas I was reckless and imaginative. She was confident and popular; I was insecure and bullied. She was my guide and protector. Without her, I was aimless and alone and so very tired.


    It was well after midnight when I stumbled upon the bright neon lights of a 24-hour pharmacy. With blurry, tearful eyes, I looked up and saw the lights like the dawn, and a terrible idea came to me.


    I hated my life, my family, and most of all myself. The idea of living with myself for the rest of my life was too horrible to accept on that night in a random pharmacy parking lot.


    According to my mother, various media personalities, and the Bible, the punishment for suicide was eternal hellfire. But they also said that about gay people, so it seemed to me the game was rigged from the start.


    But that didn''t factor much into my decision because at the time, I didn''t believe in anyone or anything. I assumed religion was a hoax spread for the sake of social cohesion. In my mind, Morgan was gone, and life was simply a series of coincidences. The Law of Averages. The origin of life was as inevitable as death. The sweet embrace of oblivion. An eternal, dreamless sleep.


    With my mind set, I walked into the pharmacy. The blinding, fluorescent light made everything look sterile, like an asylum.


    "Asleep" by The Smiths was playing on the overhead radio. I bought a soda and a box of sleeping pills.


    I wasn''t sure if the pills would kill me, but I hoped so. I found a tree to rest under and swallowed every pill in the box. I was too tired to cry. Instead, I closed my eyes and went to sleep, to dreams of sorrow and spite and profound relief.


    But I didn''t die. Lethal sleeping pills were legislated heavily in the ''70s and ''80s. I didn''t know that, and like I said, I wasn''t thinking clearly. I was just miserable, cold, tired, and afraid I would always be. Instead, I dreamed intense, vivid dreams.


    I dreamed of Morgan, of Adam and Eve and Lilith, and a world where Morgan wasn''t gone, but trapped, where she could be rescued, and I could see her again.


    That was the genesis of Eden.


    I dreamed I was on an island beach, washed ashore by the tide. I could feel the sand beneath me and the warmth of the sun on my face. I opened my eyes and saw an angel robed in blinding light, glory incarnate, with dove-like wings and a face of peerless beauty.


    "Get up," the angel ordered. "Your sister is in danger, and only you can save her."


    Raf coughed the water out of his lungs and tried to remember what happened. His father¡­ The last thing Raf could remember was falling, and as the rocky waters neared, Raf blacked out. Had he died? Raf sat up and felt his body and felt very much alive and unharmed.


    Wait! The angel said Morgan was in danger!


    "What do you mean, ''in danger?'' and what happened to my father?" he asked.


    "Your father is dead. A fallen known as Azazel killed him. Now it possesses your sister, and if you don''t save her, Azazel will consume her soul completely."


    Raf couldn''t think. There was a ringing in his ears. What does this mean? he thought. What do I do?


    "What do I do?" he pleaded. "How do I stop it?"


    The angel responded with a voice of wind chimes and cascades, "You will need to learn soul magic to trap the fallen and free your sister. To do that, you must enter Oceania and find the Time Dragon."


    Raf panicked. Oceania? Soul magic? An angel and a dragon? This is crazy, he thought. Am I dead? Could this be a dream? He felt tears on his face.


    "Clear your head," the angel commanded. "Go to the caves on the far side of the island."


    Raf picked himself up and tried to do as he was told. Morgan needed him. He had to be strong.


    "Good," said the angel. "I will remain by your side as you cross the island."


    With that, the angel dispersed into a cloud of golden light that encircled and enveloped Raf. He felt something like a warm mist brush across his skin, but otherwise, no different. Raf felt alone and scared, but he knew the angel was near.


    "What should I call you?" he asked.


    At first, the angel didn''t respond, and Raf thought he wouldn''t get an answer, but finally, the angel said, "You can call me Sophia. Start moving. We have a long way to go."


    End of Book I

 Chapter 9 - Book 2 - Jude - Morgan

    Book II - Jude - June 2009


    The sky was overcast and fog was rolling in. I was alone outside San Francisco''s Greyhound Station, drinking coffee, listening to "Time Has Come Today" by The Chambers Brothers, and waiting for my little brother''s bus to arrive.


    It was Jude''s 18th birthday, and he was coming to live with me. I was thrilled, of course, but also afraid.


    Life had been hard on Jude. He barely knew his father. Our mother, Patsy, was an addict and a narcissist. Our much older half-brother, Tom, a violent bully. Our sister died in a car accident. And then, over a year ago, I ran away to San Francisco, leaving him alone with Patsy and Tom.


    It''s the biggest regret of my life. I don''t regret leaving. I had to leave. But I should have taken Jude with me. He was only 16, so I didn''t, but I shouldn''t have left him alone. With them.


    When Jude walked out of the Greyhound Station, I hardly recognized him. He had grown fat and a long tangle of unwashed hair. His neck and shoulders were hunched over like he was trying to make himself small, but he was tall, taller than me, though his posture made him seem shorter. His clothes were torn and stained and too big for him, like he was hiding under a circus tent.


    When we saw each other, we didn''t run or shout; our communication was more understated than that, though we were overjoyed. I gave him a strong hug, but when we separated, he seemed uncomfortable.


    "So you''re really gay now, huh?" he remarked, gesturing to my outfit. I was wearing tight, grey, acid-washed jeans; a black jacket; and a t-shirt with a man reading a newspaper, as an explosion of birds, butterflies, and colors burst out the text. My fingernails were painted black with cosmic colors. My hair was dyed black to better contrast my light blue eyes, and each ear was pierced at an 8 gauge. It occurred to me that I''d changed dramatically since last he saw me.


    "I prefer Queer," I said with a shrug. "But gay isn''t an insult. You can call me gay."


    "Does that mean you''re bi?" he asked.


    Smiling, I sighed. "Let''s get moving. You can ask questions on the way. Need help with your bag?"


    "Yeah, thanks. Where are we headed?"


    "Up a few blocks, there''s a streetcar. It''s about a 20-minute ride to my place. You can store your stuff and shower there."


    We were South of Market, a central district of San Francisco. Surrounded by people and skyscrapers, Jude was wide-eyed and smiling as we walked to Market Street, the busiest traffic artery of San Francisco. We jumped on the streetcar going to Castro, and I gave Jude the window seat so he could watch the city as we rode by.


    Eventually, he turned to me and asked, "But you are into men, though, right?"


    I nodded, "Not all men, obviously, but yeah, some of them."


    "Are you also into women?"


    "Sometimes. Less often, but it happens. It''s just easier with men, I think. The sex is less complicated. For one thing, pregnancy usually isn''t a concern with two guys."


    "Have you ever been with a woman?"


    "A couple times. Just one-night stands, though. They never went anywhere. Have you?"


    "Yeah."


    "Who?"


    "Heather."


    "Heather¡­?"


    "Mom''s friend."


    "She''s forty-something."


    "She sucks a mean dick."


    "I''ll take your word for it. Good for you, I guess? I don''t know how it works for straight people. This is our stop."


    I still lived in a small studio in the Perramont Hotel with housing assistance from Castro Street Youth Housing. Jude had to be registered and leave his state ID at the door.


    After he took a shower, we sat in my room, me on my bed, Jude in a chair I found on the sidewalk.


    "You got any weed?" he asked me.


    "You used to hate weed. When did that change?"


    "After you left, Mom and I moved back in with Gramma. She lives like 3 miles out of town. It''s fucking boring out in the sticks. No one''s around. There''s nothing to do. So Mom gave me weed to do shit, like mow the lawn and wash the dishes."


    "You''re telling me, for the last year and a half, Mom has been bribing you, a minor, with drugs, to do your chores?"


    "They were your chores, not mine! You left! You know I have scoliosis! Pushing that damn lawn mower around hurts, and the weed helped."


    "Why the hell didn''t Tom do it, then?"


    Jude scoffed. "Tom''s busy setting his marriage on fire. He''s been losing everything in the casinos and getting drunk."


    "What a fuckin'' mess. Okay, forget all that. I want to talk to you about something, and it''s important. I''ve said this before, but it bears repeating. I''m allowed two overnight guests a week. That means you can stay here tonight and tomorrow night.


    "In the morning, we''re gonna walk to Lark Inn and get your name on the list for temporary housing. Hopefully, it won''t take five weeks. In the meantime, I''m gonna introduce you to some friends. With any luck, you won''t have to sleep outside.


    "Jude, listen. When you stay in the shelter, you''ll meet all kinds of people, and they''ll offer you all kinds of stuff. I can''t follow you around and make you make good decisions, but let me offer some advice, and I hope you take it.


    "You will experiment with drugs. I can''t stop you. You wanna smoke weed? It''s easy to find. You wanna do mushrooms or molly? Be careful where you get it, and don''t do it often. Give your brain some time to recover. The more time you give yourself between using, the better. These are not to be done casually. Same with booze. Don''t drink every day. And don''t get caught. Use responsibly, and these things won''t ruin your life. But stay away from meth, heroin, cocaine, and anything with a needle. There is no safe or responsible dosage of meth. It''ll kill you, slow and mean. It''ll hollow out your insides until there''s nothing left. I''ve seen it happen.


    "Lark Inn is perilous. Keep your head down, stay focused, and you''ll have a room of your own in a month. If you get off track, you might never find your way back. You could be homeless for the rest of your life."


    I finished speechifying, and Jude simply said, "So I guess that means you don''t have weed."


    "Of course, I have weed. This is San Francisco. Everybody smokes weed. Alright, fine. You wanna smoke with me; you gotta make me a promise. Promise that you won''t do meth or heroin, or cocaine. Anything with a syringe. Promise me."


    "Alright, fine, I promise. Now can we smoke?"


    "Okay... We gotta blow it out the window."


    I took out my smoky grey bong, Vesuvius. It had been a gift from one of my many ex-boyfriends. After the door was locked, the bowl packed, and the window opened, I taught my little brother bong stoner etiquette.


    "See, you hold the lighter to the side, so you only burn a corner instead of the entire bowl at once. That way, everybody gets greenbud."


    We watched our favorite show together, Futurama, and laughed for hours over stupid stuff. I told him I''d been taking singing classes, and he demanded we sing a song together since he''d taken choir classes in high school. We landed on "Oh, Danny Boy," a favorite of our Gramma. She used to sing it, so we both knew all the words.Stolen novel; please report.


    Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling


    From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.


    The summer''s gone, and all the roses falling,


    It''s you, it''s you must go and I must bide.


    But come ye back when summer''s in the meadow,


    Or when the valley''s hushed and white with snow,


    It''s I''ll be here in sunshine or in shadow,


    Oh, Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so!


    But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,


    If I am dead, as dead I well may be,


    You''ll come and find the place where I am lying,


    And kneel and say an Ave there for me.


    And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,


    And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,


    For you will bend and tell me that you love me,


    And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me!


    "Are you a tenor?" he asked me when we finished.


    "Yeah, you?"


    "Baritone."


    "I think that was the first song we ever sang together," I remarked.


    "I think you''re right¡­ So you learned to sing. What else have you been up to?"


    "I study English and Psychology, mostly, but sometimes other stuff, like music and swimming. I know how to swim now! And I''m in this creative writing class so I can get my teacher''s input on my book."


    "You''re finally writing the book?"


    "Yeah. And I wrote Morgan into it."


    The mood of the room noticeably shifted.


    "What do you mean?" He asked.


    "I based a character on her. It''s for my creative writing class. I just wrote her introduction for an assignment. It''s four pages. You wanna read it?"


    Jude paused for a second that lingered. "Sure."


    Chapter 9 - Morgan


    At only 16, Morgan towered over most people. Sometimes her height made her feel freakish, and it intimidated most men. They eyed her from around the great hall, sizing her up, judging her prospective value to them and their lineage. She hated them but wore a smile all the same. Morgan knew her duties to her family and her island, and she wasn''t the type to run or hide from responsibility.


    At the moment, that meant politely tolerating Baird Liath. The thirty-year-old son of Sapho''s steward, Baird, was nursing a broken rib acquired in an earlier match against Rafael. Baird was drinking heavily to dull the pain and humiliation, having lost to a teenager. But he was a good sport about it, congratulating Rafael, and never once making an excuse for himself. He seemed a decent man. Morgan simply wasn''t attracted to him. He was far from her worst option, though. She glanced across the room, wondering if Baird was the best of a bad situation, fearing he was. If she waited much longer, Godfather Adam would assign her a husband, probably somewhere far away on the continent of Garden. Morgan sipped her honey drink, smiling away the sinking feeling in her chest, wishing she could escape her fate.


    Mercifully, Milo Meiori appeared. Milo was a friend of the family, almost sixty and well-preserved, though his face was drawn with lines of frustration and fury. He had a distinguished black beard, gone grey in recent years, smiling warmly upon seeing her and interrupting Baird Liath.


    "Morgan, my dear girl, you''re a vision. A more radiant sight I''ve never seen." She smiled at the compliment and marveled at her gown. It was layered purple silk with gold trim, wrapped around her neck to leave her arms and shoulders bare. It hung down to nearly touch the floor. Her shining black hair had been braided up and secured with flowers. Indeed, she felt beautiful.


    Milo beamed and leaned to whisper something in Baird''s ear. The younger man appeared insulted, but Milo Meiori was once the Steward of Lona, the largest Vulpen Island after Crescent, and his voice was steeled with authority. Baird Liath bowed his head, said goodnight and walked away. Milo and Morgan shared a knowing smile. She trusted Milo but still felt uneasy.


    "I was looking for your father when I saw you in need of rescuing," Milo told her with a wink. "Have you seen him?


    "Not since the tournament," she said quietly. "Father met with someone during the final match. I''d never seen him before, but he wore good brothers'' robes. They stayed for a bit after Rafael''s victory, but I turned for a moment, and they were both gone. I don''t know where either of them are now."


    Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.


    Morgan looked up and saw the good brother from earlier. He was alone, walking down the stairs and dressed in black, maintaining an intense, unblinking stare. Morgan followed his gaze and found her brother Raf, flirting with Sparrow Nwin, the daughter of Steward Nwin of Minao.


    All the Vulpen stewarding families were in attendance. Sparrow was the only girl near Raf''s age, and tonight was their first meeting. He was 14. She was 15. They were laughing.


    Morgan excused herself and rushed across the room. Something about the good brother scared her, and for whatever reason, he was heading toward her little brother.


    She had to protect him.


    Morgan stepped beside Raf just as the stranger broke through the crowd and introduced himself.


    "Rafael Avalyn, son of Steward Avalyn, it''s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Good Brother Timothy. The Holy Father sent me to be your spiritual guide, effective immediately." Everyone froze in shock except Timothy, who seemed to be enjoying himself.


    It was Morgan who finally spoke. "You''re Brother Mizzet''s replacement? I had no idea he was so near retirement." Brother Timothy turned to Morgan and tilted his head.


    "Not at all," he said. "Good Brother Mizzet was summoned to Garden to be rewarded for his loyal devotion to the Holy Father," he answered with a beneficent smile that somehow felt threatening.


    "Well then, we look forward to cooperating with you," Morgan smiled in return.


    Brother Timothy turned to address Raf. "Your sister speaks for you? Because we''ll be cooperating immediately. I''ve acquainted myself with Castle Moondial''s records and discovered something alarming. Over the past few months, several human bodies have washed ashore. I believe you have a killer on the island."


    The atmosphere in the room chilled.


    "What evidence do you have that they''re all related?" Raf broke the silence.


    "Nice to see you participating. No proof, just patterns. The bodies were similarly mutilated. It''s all in the reports if anyone bothered to look."


    Steward Arthur Avalyn rushed into the room. "I have my best man on the case already," Arthur said as he strolled toward his children. "My apologies, everyone, I became aware of the killings earlier today, and I''ve sent Captain Reynard to bring swift justice to the guilty party. Rest assured, we are all safe here. The killer will soon be apprehended. Now, I need to speak to my children about these new developments. Everyone should continue celebrating. Music, please. Rafael, Morgan, come with me."


    As they rose to leave, Good Brother Timothy addressed Raf, "Your education begins tomorrow morning. Be ready."


    Steward Avalyn turned to leave, and his children followed, sensing they just narrowly dodged a surprise attack. They kept silent, travelling upstairs and into Arthur''s office. Morgan''s grandmother Henrietta was already seated with a glass of lemonade. She was in her 80s. No one expected her to be celebrating this late into the night. In the candlelight, Gramma Henri looked frail and thin, but her mind was sharp as ever.


    Once Morgan closed the door behind them, Arthur addressed his family. "We''re all here. Let''s get to it. Timothy says he found evidence of a serial killer on the island. I lied. Reynard isn''t on the case, but that should explain his disappearance for the time being. In the morning, we''ll tell the staff that Lyn was sent to live with the Meioris on Lona. Indivar and Lyn are the same age. It''s a plausible story. I''ll get Milo to go along with it before he leaves."


    "What''s going on?" Raf asked his father with panic in his eyes. "What''s this about bodies washing ashore?


    "I don''t know. We''ll deal with that later. Our more pressing concern is investigating the source of this information: Good Brother Timothy," Arthur said with gravity. "He says he''s here to determine if you''re equipped to be the Steward of Vulpex."


    Henrietta interrupted, "I think he was sent here to investigate our rebellion. Apple spied on Timothy speaking with none other than Adam, Himself. Rowan was nearly exposed. They had to be sent away."


    "You said Lyn was sent, too," Morgan spoke up. "How is she involved?"


    "Lyn is a witch. The captain brought her along to train her in secret," Arthur answered.


    Morgan was devastated. In one night, without warning or goodbyes, she lost both her teacher and her sister. Morgan fought back tears. "Where did they go?" she asked.


    "They went into the caverns," Arthur answered. "They''re safe. Safer than any of us. If your grandmother is right and Timothy is here to investigate, then Adam knows, or at least suspects, something, and we''re all in danger. I don''t think Timothy has any evidence seeing as we''re all still alive."


    A grave silence fell over the room. Henri sighed long and heavily. Down the halls, distant music rang through the castle.


    Raf spoke first. "We all know Adam should die for his crimes, but he''s immortal. He''s invincible. No one can even touch Adam unless He wants them to. It''s not too late to stop before we all get killed."


    Morgan answered angrily, "Adam slaughtered the fae folk! Every firefox except Rowan, and now he''s sent an assassin to finish the job. He needs to be stopped."


    "We can''t avenge the firefox if we''re dead!"


    "Enough!" Henrietta''s voice was soft but unyielding. "Rafael, you said it yourself: no one can touch Adam unless He wants them to. He lets his guard down at times. We just need you in position when he does."


    Arthur took command of the conversation again, "If Timothy is telling the truth, then this is our best chance, Rafael."


    Raf looked so young and scared. "What makes you think we can win?" He begged. "When so many people tried and failed?"


    "It''s time to tell him, son," Gramma Henri said. Morgan grasped Raf''s hand.


    "Yes," Arthur conceded. "It''s time you knew the truth. Rafael... son, you are the Holy Ghost."

 Chapter 10 - Mass Invite - Holy Ghost & the Bloodless Dead

    June 2009 - The Mass Invite


    Jude looked up with a withering expression. "You wrote a story from Morgan''s point of view and made yourself the hero. That''s typical. What''s a Holy Ghost?"


    He said it with equal parts love and contempt. I took no offense and answered, "The Holy Ghost is one of 8 Ikons God left on Eden. Adam killed five and stole their power. There are two Eden Spirits still unaccounted for. The Holy Ghost can influence and inspire people. That''s why Rafael is so popular and successful.


    "As for the other thing, I''m writing from multiple perspectives. This is Morgan''s chapter, and she has her own arc. Rafael isn''t a literary stand-in for me, but even if he were, it''s my story. I''ll make myself the hero if I want to."


    He dropped the pages on the bed next to me. "Whatever. You got a blanket? I''m tired."


    "Yeah, here. You can sleep on the bed. It''s small, but we can both fit if we don''t move around."


    He took the blanket and curled up in a ball on the floor. "Don''t worry about it. Night."


    I wasn''t sure what to do or say. I must have said or done something to upset him, but he wouldn''t talk about it. So I turned the lights off and went to sleep.


    The Next Morning, we started with a simple objective: sign Jude up for public services, but before the night ended, we would witness a murder and cross into another dimension.


    But first things first. Jude and I walked to the Human Services Agency in the Mission. I helped him sign up for expedited food stamps and health coverage. Next, to Lark Inn, where he wrote his name on the list for temporary housing assistance. Then we walked up two blocks to the Larkin Employment and Drop-In Center, so he could find a job and make some friends.


    Jude was meeting a career advisor. I was waiting in the lobby of the Drop-In, a red brick building with old wood floors. Industrial beams protected it against the ever-looming threat of earthquakes. The walls were yellow, reflecting the sunlight and giving everything a golden hue.


    My phone rang, so I stepped outside, where trash and human feces covered the sidewalk, cooking in the blinding noonday sun.


    "Hey, what''s up?" I answered.


    "Have you read my emails?" Nathan asked impatiently.


    "Um. I guess not. What''s going on?"


    "Chapter 3 of the Humdrum adventure is tonight! Are you coming or not? I''m buying tickets now, and there aren''t many left."


    "What?! Why didn''t they call me?"


    "They probably did. You never check your voicemail!"


    "Who leaves voicemails anymore?! What is this, the 90s? Send a text message like a normal person."


    "Are you coming or not?!"


    "Yes! Of course, I''m coming. Wait! Can you get a ticket for my brother, too? I''ll reimburse you tonight."


    "Yeah, that''s fine. They''re $25 a person, so you''ll owe me $50. We meet at 8pm. Don''t be late! And check your damn email! Bye."


    Nathan hung up abruptly. I rolled my eyes and went back inside the Drop In to check my emails. As Nathan said, I had unread emails from him and the Humdrum Institute. Opening the one from Humdrum, it read,


    Greetings, Sebastian!


    There''s no time to lose. We need your help.


    Our informants have alerted us to a Nonchalant gathering at the Hippodrome in San Francisco. According to reports, Eve herself will be in attendance. This is our chance to rescue Eve from the Cult of Nonchalance and find the door to Elsewhere!


    We need you to infiltrate the gathering as a Nonchalant cultist. Use the password ''Jejune'' at the door. You will be approached by our undercover operative once you arrive.


    Please follow the link to RSVP and purchase your tickets!


    I''d never heard of the Hippodrome before, but a quick Google search revealed it to be an old brothel in the Barbary Coast area of San Francisco. Nathan had already purchased two tickets, but I saw there were still more available, and I had an idea.


    Jude finished his meeting and stepped out of the Drop-In, holding several copies of his new resume they''d been working on. I told Jude what I''d learned while he was busy and showed him the email invitation.


    "I don''t know. This seems like a lot," he said nervously.


    "It''ll be so much fun! And you''ll meet my friends. Let me remind you, we''re hoping they''re nice enough to let you sleep on their couch, so put on a happy face. We''re going."


    "Ugh, fine. It starts at 8pm. That''s hours from now. Can I meet you there then?"


    "Are you sure? You''ve been in San Francisco for less than a day."


    "I''ll be fine! You said I needed to make friends, and I need to drop these resumes around the city. Go home. I''ll meet you at the Hippodrome. Send me that email so I have the details."


    I didn''t want to leave him in the Tenderloin District, but Jude was an adult, and he would probably be living in the TL before long. "Okay," I relented. "You have my number. Call or text if you need anything. You''ve got a map of the city and enough money for bus fare, right? Okay. Then I guess I''ll see you tonight."


    Jude said bye and walked outside. We had spent the last several hours together, so I wasn''t bothered that he wanted space and time to explore the city alone. Besides, there were some things I still had to do before going to the Hippodrome. I forwarded Jude the email and headed home to brave the storm and hope for the best.


    I knocked on Deon''s door first since I figured he''d be the easiest to convince.


    "Hello," Deon said from the other side of the door.


    "Hey, it''s Bastian. Open up."


    I heard noises as he crossed the room and opened the door. He had been playing Smash Bros. on an old TV. The floor of his room was covered in clothes and debris.


    "Hey, gorgeous! What''s good?" He asked, in boxers and a t-shirt.


    "Did you get a call or email from the Humdrum Institute?"


    "The what?"


    "The scavenger hunt we went on back in April."


    "Oh. Yeah. No. Nobody called me."


    "You gave them your email, didn''t you?"


    "Uhh. I don'' member."


    "Can you check your email?"


    "Yeah, gimme minute."


    He grabbed his mobile device and went to the corner in the hall with decent wifi.


    "You do that. I''ma check in on Alex and Faerie," I told him. It would take several minutes for his old mobile to access his email. In the meantime, I knocked on Alex''s door next.


    He opened the door at once, dressed and pressed. His room and appearance were both immaculately kept. His dark hair was cropped short. "Yes?" he offered as a greeting.


    "Hey, did you get a call or email from the Humdrum Institute?"


    He was surprised. "Yeah, weeks ago. I figured no one was going since the last one was such a disaster."


    "What? No. Well, yes. It was a small disaster, but it was fun, you know, until it wasn''t. Uh. But I just heard about it today, same as Deon. He''s checking now. If there''re still tickets, we''re going. We should all go."


    Alex looked torn. "That does sound like fun. I dunno if Faerie will want to, though."


    "C''mon, let''s ask her."


    "No, you don''t understand. Faerie and I broke up."


    I was stunned. "Was it bad?" I finally asked.


    "Not really, no. We''re going to be friends. That''s what we said, anyway."


    We were silent for a moment together until Deon came running around the corner.


    "I got the email!" Deon said. "And I''m looking now. There are only 3 spots left!"


    I turned excitedly back to Alex. "My ticket is already bought. You want to come, right?"


    He gave a wry shrug.


    "Okay then. Let''s convince Faerie. Deon, we better buy those tickets now before someone else does."


    "About that," Deon said sheepishly, looking down at the floor. "I get paid next Friday. I don''t have $25."


    "That''s okay," I said. "I''ll get you this time. You can buy me dinner next week."


    Deon lit up with a smile, and he gave me a giant bear hug that cracked my back.


    "Let me go," I gasped. "We still have to convince Faerie."


    Deon dropped me, and we ran upstairs to Faerie''s apartment and knocked on her door. She came to the door and asked, "Who is it?"


    "It''s me, babe," Alex answered. "Bastian and Deon are here, too."


    Faerie opened the door and looked at us quizzically. Her hair was dyed hot pink, and her nails and lipstick were turquoise. Her clothes were punk with chains and bobby pins.


    "What up, folks," she asked coolly. Sharp and sweet incense wafted out into the hall. Faerie''s room was bright and colorful, lived in but not messy.


    "The next Humdrum Adventure is tonight at 8," Alex said. "We''re all going and buying the tickets now. You wanna come?"


    Faerie was visibly affected by the invitation. "That sounds fun, but I''m broke until Friday."


    "Don''t worry about it. Bastian''s getting Deon''s ticket. I can get yours, and Friday, you can take me out to eat."


    Faerie smiled, relieved. "Okay, deal."


    "Awesome. Heads up, we''re going to that Thai place, and we''re getting everything I like; appetizers, drinks, the works."


    "Same," I told Deon. "Everything he just said."


    "Great," Deon said. "We should all go out! Can we?"


    Faerie and Alex shrugged and laughed. "That''s a great idea," Faerie said.


    "Okay, awesome. Let''s buy those tickets," I said to Alex, who quickly agreed. We went to our respective rooms and devices to make it happen.


    I showered, shaved, and dressed, choosing a navy blue shirt, black slacks, and a thin silver tie. Finally, I brushed my hair and applied moisturizer.


    I was ready, but the others weren''t, and Jude was still exploring the city. It would be several hours before the event began, so I smoked a fat bowl and wrote a few pages.


    Chapter 10 - Holy Ghost & the Bloodless Dead


    Judging by the purple bruises under Raf''s eyes, Morgan surmised he''d been awake all night. She had hardly slept, either.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    In her quiet moments, Morgan used to wonder why people were so quick to admire and follow Raf. In her darkest moments, when she was all alone, she resented him for it. He was two years younger than her, but still, she always trusted and believed in him, even as a baby. Now that the truth was out, suddenly, it made sense. The faith everyone had in him, the admiration she held for her baby brother: it was all magic, an innocent consequence of his very existence.


    They ate breakfast in silence, and she glanced over at him, wondering, did he ever doubt himself before last night? Did he never question why everyone treated him special? Does he doubt himself now, now that he knows the truth, that they were magically compelled to trust him and follow him? By the weight of his shoulders and the silence that followed him, he seemed wracked with doubt.


    Now that Morgan knew the truth, she doubted him, too, and wondered if it was her doubt or his. The guards and servants surrounding Raf, too, seemed unsure and sluggish. Were they grappling with their own insecurities, she wondered, or Raf''s?


    To complicate things further, Brother Timothy walked into the dining hall, looking smug. He eyed Raf hungrily, and waves of dread swept over Morgan; even the guards shuddered, but Morgan and Raf concealed it expertly. Rowan taught them the art of deception at an early age. The uprising, and their lives, relied on the ability to lie convincingly.


    Timothy''s smile was unnerving and unrelenting. "You ate. Gross. Let''s go."


    The siblings shared a confused glance but followed dutifully. The smile never left Timothy''s face, like the face of a mannequin. He led them out of the castle and to the stone benches carved into the cliffside. The wind whistled like a ceiling overhead. The view of the island was breathtaking. But far across the ocean, a pillar of smoke rose off the smoldering island of Inari, the ruined home of the firefox, an ever-present reminder of Adam''s terrible crimes and power.


    Timothy smiled at them as they hurried to sit, and Morgan wondered if it would be possible to shove him over the cliff. Is that why he brought them to the cliff room? It was a bold move for their first day of instruction. Was he threatening them or taunting them? Both or neither? After a long and uncomfortable silence, Timothy finally began speaking.


    "Brother Mizzet left records of the subjects you''ve already covered, but before I can teach you, I need to test your knowledge myself. You will each take turns reciting the history of Eden to me, starting with Morgan."


    He looked at Morgan, and her heart started pounding. She cleared her head and got her story straight, concentrating on the sanctioned version, and began:


    "Almost 6000 years ago, God made Adam out of land and water to rule and protect Eden. God took a rib from Adam while he slept and made Eve to be mother of humanity. When their first son Cain murdered their second son Abel, God cursed Cain and banished him to Nod."


    "Good," Timothy interrupted. "Rafael." Raf cleared his throat and continued.


    "Manipulated by Lucifer and grief Eve ate the forbidden fruit, and acquired knowledge, but the fruit was cursed. From then on, her children would age and die. God appeared and spoke that humans had free will; for better or worse, they chose their destiny. God would not interfere again. Before leaving, God rewarded Adam for his obedience with godly powers, with which to guide his children."


    "Uh-huh." Something inscrutable flashed across his face as Brother Timothy turned to appreciate the view. He walked nearer the edge and directed, "Morgan."


    She was ready this time. "Over the centuries, children of Adam and Eve covered the land of Garden. In the year 2288, Adam discovered a narrow land bridge that led to a new continent. The new land became known as Exile because Adam exiled criminals across the land bridge."


    "It is beautiful here," Timothy mused aloud, in wonder and hate. He seemed to have forgotten himself completely, breathing deep and gazing out over the lush island canopy, teeming with life and dancing on the wind. Far below, the Cove Market was bustling with people. The rising sun set the horizon aflame with reds and golds rippling off blue waves. Morgan saw an opportunity.


    "Is it beautiful where you''re from?" She coyly inquired.


    When Timothy turned to look at her, his smile was gone. His face was void of emotion. "Where I''m from, the climates are more... unforgiving."


    Morgan gulped.


    Timothy turned back to the view. "Rafael, what happened next?" Raf hesitated a moment but continued.


    "Two millennia passed. Exile became densely populated. Societies began to develop around areas rich in rare minerals and produce. Adam permitted them a level of independence for a time, even allowing a few Exile cities to trade with cities in Garden. Before long, nations formed and amassed influence and power. Until the newly-crowned King of Atlantis declared war on Adam, believing free will meant nothing if a God like Adam ruled everyone. Adam crushed the rebellion and sank a quarter of the continent of Exile into the ocean. After that, Adam took control over Exile. He forgave the survivors, the criminals, and their children and established a Church in every city to keep the peace."


    Timothy kept his eyes on the sunrise but addressed Morgan, "Tell me the history of your island."


    "Crescent''s history goes back over three millennia, when sailors were lost in a storm and crashed ashore. Each of the Vulpen islands developed their own cultures and systems of leadership. But everyone in Vulpex venerated the firefox who lived on the Island of Inari. When Adam¡­ discovered the Vulpen Islands thirty years ago, Inari led the other islands in a rebellion. That rebellion ended when Adam destroyed Inari and killed everyone living there. Crescent and the other three islands surrendered. As terms of surrender, Vulpen leadership married Gardeners, and Adam established a Church on every island."


    "And why did Adam kill the firefox, Rafael?" Timothy asked.


    "Because mankind has been at war with the fae folk since the winged serpent deceived Eve long ago. Immortals are insidious. They say they want to help, but they sow insurrection. The firefox were heretics and deceivers. We''re safer now they''re gone." Raf''s answer seemed unconvincing to Morgan. They would need to practice that line more.


    "Hm. That will do," Timothy reluctantly turned to address them. His mannequin smile returned. "That brings us to your first assignment: I believe a fae survivor is hiding somewhere on this island. I suspect they are killing people, and I task you to find them and capture them, preferably alive.


    "Rafael, to be Steward of Vulpex, you must prove your loyalty and your usefulness to the Godfather. Bring me the fae, dead or alive, and you will have done both."


    Raf''s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Finally, he said, "Of course, I avail myself to Godfather Adam in every way. Where should we begin our investigation?"


    "We? You''re including Morgan?" Timothy referred to her as if she weren''t standing in front of him. She bristled, but she was used to it from the clergy.


    "Morgan is my right hand. She goes where I go," Raf responded.


    Timothy took an aggressive step forward. "A day will come when your big sister isn''t around to carry you. You need to stand on your own two feet."


    "Morgan and I stand together," Raf said, firmly closing the discussion.


    Morgan''s chest swelled with pride. She believed in her little brother. It wasn''t magic. It wasn''t the Holy Ghost. Raf believed in her. He helped her believe in herself. What Morgan wanted most in life was to live up to the person he saw her to be.


    Brother Timothy didn''t react for a few seconds, then said, "Very well," unblinkingly. "I compiled a report of my conclusions." Timothy pulled out a scroll from a mystery pocket in his black robes and handed it to Raf. "I suggest you study this on your way to the Church mortuary to inspect the victim''s bodies. They may provide some clue as to what species of fae we''re dealing with."


    Brother Timothy turned again to face the sunrise, dismissing them.


    Without delay, Raf and Morgan collected equipment and readied two horses for a day trip. They remained silent, barely acknowledging each other as they rode away from their castle home.


    Castle Moondial was built on top of a stone peak that islanders called the Gnomon. Going to Church meant descending the Gnomon, traversing the woods, and riding through Harbor.


    Riding horseback on a bright, beautiful morning lifted their spirits, and for a short slice of time, they were free. The ocean wind whistled over the cliff, and a buzzing insect danced in the breeze. Morgan was loath to break the spell of the moment, but it was the perfect opportunity to speak without risk of being overheard.


    "You''ve hardly spoken since Father said you''re the Holy Ghost," she confronted the issue directly. "Talk to me. What''s our plan here?"


    For a moment, Raf only stared forward resolutely. She was afraid he might not even answer.


    "Did you know?" he finally demanded, turning to meet her gaze. She winced, but she didn''t look away.


    "Of course not. I suspected you were the reason Rowan stayed with us, but I never guessed you were the Holy Ghost."


    He clenched his fists and then released. "Hm."


    The whistling wind sang on leaves in the trees not far ahead. Morgan couldn''t stand the awkward silence any longer. She said, "Look, this is crazy. You didn''t choose any of this, and I know you don''t want war. Talk to me. What are you thinking?"


    Raf''s eyes watered, but he didn''t cry. "Rowan must have planned this before I was born," he shook his head. "Summoning my spirit into this body, uniquely positioned to get close to Adam one day. I suppose it''s all going according to plan. If Adam makes me Steward of the Vulpen Islands, he''ll summon me to the Garden of Eden, and that''s when Rowan strikes... It''s simple. It could work. If we fail, Adam will kill us all... But I already knew those things. Nothing has changed, except now I know why.


    "The most important thing now is Brother Timothy. He weirds me out, and something about this assignment sets me off. It''s like he wants us out of the castle. Even the mission makes no sense. Rowan is the only fae on the island, and they aren''t killing anyone, right?"


    "As far as I know. So either the fae and the killings are unrelated, or there''s another fae we don''t know about. What makes Timothy think the killer is fae, anyway?"


    "The files don''t offer much evidence. Just the coroner''s reports and records of tidal waves." Raf reached into his satchel and pulled out the scroll. "How about you give it a look," he said and handed it to her. "Steady your stomach. The details are gruesome."


    They entered the forest and fell silent as Morgan read the reports.


    On their left, mountainous peaks formed the Spine of Crescent. A lush forest sprawled over the interior valley. Most islanders lived near the waterfront, but several tribes dotted the woods and peaks, preferring to live in sheltered isolation. Anyone could appear from behind a tree. Even the wildlife could be familiar spies. They couldn''t speak candidly anymore for fear of being overheard, so they kept a brisk pace in the woods, silent and alert.


    The sun was high in the sky by the time they reached Harbor. The largest city on the island, Harbor was crafted on a platform of lumber, with houses built in the trees. Vibrantly tended gardens grew down and around the platforms. Flower petals fell like colorful snow from the canopy gardens above, carried away on the ocean breeze. On the wooden streets, people bustled along with places to go. Twice, someone recognized them and shouted congratulations on Rafael''s victory in the Perigee festival. They waved and carried on. The sunlight was intense by the time they arrived at Church.


    Church was the only stone building in Harbor, a cathedral slab of marble overlooking the city waterfront, like a headstone in a forest. It was constructed with classic Garden overtures, towering archways, and stained glass portraits of the Holy Mother and Father. Adam had all the materials shipped in from Garden thirty years ago when the islands surrendered. Upon His ''discovery'' of Vulpex, most functions of state, news, education, and medicine were consolidated at Church.


    Churchyard was built like an oversize theater. The steps leading to the stage were massive and many, intended to double as rafters, so that when Adam visited the island, everyone could come to witness. Morgan abhorred the church but smiled in case anyone was watching.


    They secured their horses and began the hike up and down the steps to Churchyard.


    When they were younger, Captain Reynard encouraged Morgan and Raf to tag along on assignments so they were familiar with the area. Churchyard was grand and crowded with petitioners and faithful brothers, bustling back and forth with somewhere to go. Exotic flowering trees decorated the paths and gaps between buildings. Churchyard''s loveliness only antagonized Morgan''s fury.


    The mortuary was in the basement of a white marble building with gorgeous stained-glass windows; images of God ''blessing'' Adam were ubiquitous in Church.


    They checked in with a reception and requested entry to where the bodies were kept. Cold and dimly lit were the halls. The stench of death was overpowering. White flame sconces decorated the walls. On one side of the room were two stone slabs. On the other side was a single desk. The desk was made of marble, like the bookshelf behind it, like everything else in the building. The room was otherwise sterile, without decoration or evidence of human activity.


    "Hello?" Raf shouted down the hall. "Is anyone on staff?"


    From around a corner, they heard feet brushing against stone. Soon an unusually tall man appeared in black robes. His hair was black, and his jaw was sharp. There was a coldness behind his green eyes, but his voice was a warm and comforting hum, like a song that sticks with you.


    "Welcome to Crescent Mortuary. Call me Shaman Kroeser. How can I help you?" Everyone in the Church had familiars. Kroeser''s blackbird familiar was perched on his shoulder. It cawed a greeting to them both.


    "I am Rafael Avalyn. This is my sister, Morgan. We have orders from on high. Brother Timothy believes a fae murderer may be on the island. I''d like to see where the bodies are kept. If any unusual bodies have come in lately, please show me those first."


    Kroeser responded slowly as if he were considering their inquiry while preoccupied with something else. "A fae serial killer? Wow! You know, there is one body you might want to see. It came in only yesterday. Unusual... is one word for it. I finished the autopsy and put him on ice this morning. Follow me. I''ll show you." With that, Kroeser turned and went back the way he came. Morgan and Raf exchanged glances and followed him down another flight of stairs and through a door. The air froze as they walked into an icy, rectangular room. Morgan started shivering immediately.


    It was a freezer with bodies on waist-high marble slabs like the room upstairs. Some of the bodies looked as if they had been frozen for a long time. Shaman Kroeser stopped in front of one corpse with dozens of circular purple welts along its waist and arms. Massive chunks were cleanly carved out of the neck and shoulder. The collar bone was gone, exposing the spine, ribs, and lungs. Ink covered the body, staining the muscle and marrow jet black. Morgan and Raf exchanged breathless, knowing glances.


    "Where was the body found?" Raf asked Shaman Kroeser.


    "His mother found him on a riverbank downstream from a cave. It seems he was spelunking when he encountered something that leaves purple suction marks and cleaves through solid bone."


    The implication was obvious: Cthulians. The oceanfolk were rarely seen off the island coast. The Land and Sea Treaty forbade them from ever touching land again or else war. Adam let them live because hunting them all down underwater would be almost impossible. Or at least time-consuming. But if a cthulian broke the treaty to kill a human, Adam might change his mind.


    Morgan spoke first. "It could have been staged. Tools could have been used to imitate the carving wounds. Even if the ink is genuine, someone could have captured a cthulian and extracted it from them."


    "This needs to be handled discreetly," Raf said with quiet authority. Rafael Avalyn was young, but his name, training, and unique magnetism somehow elevated him from an impetuous princeling to a formidable, imposing commander. "Morgan and I will go to the cave he was exploring to look for tangible evidence. No sense involving the Holy Father without something concrete. In the meantime, keep the body on ice."


    "Have more bodies been found like this one?" Morgan asked. Shaman Kroeser looked at her and paused like he considered ignoring her question, but instead curtly responded, "No."


    Morgan took a step toward the shaman and spoke directly. "We''re investigating a series of possible homicides. Your records describe six bodies that washed ashore over the last 3 years. Each with similar wounds, death by exsanguination, is that right? My brother and I would like you to show us those bodies, please."


    Shaman Kroeser''s face contorted into a surprised snarl. His response was quick and breathless. "I can''t show them to you. They couldn''t be identified, so they were buried in unmarked graves behind the church."


    Morgan was stunned and confused. Kroeser''s reaction was oddly suspicious. Did he have something to hide or was withholding information just to spite her? She feared anything she said might be met with derision by the shaman.


    Raf jumped in, "I''m sure you know the church shares public records with the stewarding family. Was any investigation conducted as to the victims'' identities or whereabouts when they went missing?"


    Shaman Kroeser shifted his weight uncomfortably. Then he walked to a cabinet, opened a drawer, and fingered through scrolls until he found the one he wanted.


    He opened the scroll and seemed to skim its contents, saying, "One of the forensic brothers asked around. It seems one victim was known as Pika, a vagabond who slept under the docks and was known for thieving. No known origin or next of kin could be found, so the investigation was closed, quick and tidy. The brother concluded Pika was likely killed in retaliation for some theft or offense." Kroeser looked up at them with a charmed expression.


    "Would it be possible to exhume the body?" Raf asked.


    "As I said, the graves were unmarked, so you''re welcome to dig out back, but there''s no guarantee you''ll unearth the right body." Kroeser tilted his head and blinked several times. "I fear there''s nothing more I can do for you."


    Morgan felt rage erupting in her. She wanted to smash in Kroeser''s smug face. Morgan wondered if it was Raf''s rage or her own. He was about to react in anger, but Morgan had another idea.


    "Thank you for your time, Shaman Kroeser. If another exsanguinated body washes ashore, keep it on ice and alert us. We''ll see ourselves out."


    Raf hesitated. His jaw clenched, but he kept his composure, nodded a farewell, and turned to leave. Morgan wanted to scream and punch something, but they kept calm, walking back to their horses. Once safely out of earshot, Raf said plainly, "Kroeser is hiding something. I assume you have an idea."


    "Either he''s hiding something, or he''s just an asshole, but yeah, I got a plan. Kroeser gave us a name and location. Let''s ask around the docks if anybody knew Pika. Maybe it won''t lead anywhere, but there''s still a trail. Let''s see where it leads."

 Chapter 11 - Humdrum Part 3 - Azazel

    June 2009 - Humdrum - Part 3


    My alarm rang so I stopped writing, gathered the other street urchins, and texted Jude and Nathan to say we were in commute.


    Barbary Coast was a charming upscale neighborhood. Two security guards stood outside the gated entrance to the Hippodrome. One was a strikingly handsome man, his muscles testing the limits of his blue uniform; the other, a broad-shouldered woman with tattoos and black hair slicked into a pompadour. Billie clubs hung from their belts.


    I spoke first. "We''re here for the Nonchalant gathering."


    "Password?" the muscular man asked.


    "Jejune."


    The pompadoured woman opened the golden gates. We stepped into an enclosed vestibule and knocked on large wooden doors. An opening appeared in the door. A beautiful young woman''s face on the other side.


    "Names and reservations please?" she inquired, and we introduced ourselves.


    Then the door opened, and we stepped into the most sumptuous room I''d ever seen. The walls, tables, and lamp shades were covered in rich dark blues.


    On a stage, a band played a bluesy rendition of Nancy Sinatra''s "Bang, Bang."


    The hostess was dressed in a sharp blue suit. Her name tag read Alice. Yellow curls framed her face, and she had a bubbly, infectious smile.


    "Welcome, everyone," she greeted the four of us. "If you''ll follow me, I''ll show you to your table."


    She led us across a checkered marble floor to a booth with a view of the stage.


    "Here y''all go," Alice said, handing us each a menu. "Order at the bar. Reverend Wu will take the stage in 30 minutes. Some of the highest order Nonchalant will be in attendance. I encourage y''all to meet them. In the meantime, enjoy the band."


    "I have a question," I said. Alice smiled at me in response. "We''re expecting more people. When August, Nathan, and Jude arrive, can you bring them here?"


    "Will do," Alice answered, and then returned to her station.


    Faerie glared at me. "You failed to mention Nathan was coming."


    "He invited me. Look, I''m sorry y''all got into it last time. Just avoid each other. There''s plenty of other people to talk to."


    I looked at the menu, mostly to end the conversation.


    The front was a menu of murder mystery puns. ''Professor Plum Wine.'' A sake flight, ''The Orient Express.'' ''Buffalo Wings of the Maltese Falcon.'' You get the idea.


    But on the back page were two riddles, a 10-square sudoku puzzle, and two incomplete sentences with numbers under the blank spaces. The vowels were filled in.


    _e__,  A_  A__  _a_e,  __e  _o__ou_e  _ai_.


    A_a__o_  A__  _o_e  _e  __o  E__e_  _e_e.


    "I need a pencil," Alex said.


    "We all do," added Faerie.


    I stood up. "I''ll ask the bar. Be right back."


    I walked over and made eyes with the bartender, a handsome guy with red hair. His name tag read Peter.


    "Hi," I said. "Are there pencils we can use?"


    He handed me several and said, "Can I get you anything else?"


    "Yeah, ''In Cold Blood,'' please." It was a strawberry daiquiri.


    "Of course. Can I see your ID?"


    I tried not to hold my breath while he examined it, and then me, and then it again several times. He handed it back to me with a wink and said, "Coming right up."


    My heart jumped in my chest. "So you work with the Nonchalant?"


    "I work here at the Hippodrome," he answered.


    "Nonchalant own the Hippodrome?"


    "No. They rent the space every couple months."


    "So, who else works here?" I asked.


    "The manager, Annie." Peter pointed at a stern woman standing in a corner with her arms crossed. "Benny the bouncer," he pointed at a heavy-set man near the door. "And Oliver the bar bitch," he pointed at a young man opposite the dance floor with a wild black mohawk and razor-sharp cheekbones. His nails were painted blood red with matching lipstick. I was hypnotized at once. I almost walked over to him, but then I remembered what I was doing. So instead, I paid my tab and walked back to the table.


    Alex furrowed his brow at the drink in my hand. "How old are you again?"


    I sipped my frozen Capote pun. "I work in a check cashing store, remember? Well, sometimes people leave their IDs. We got a box full of ''em. So I went through that box and found someone who looks like me."


    "What!?" Deon exclaimed. "Lemme see this." I handed it to him.


    Deon screamed and laughed. "It says you''re thirty-one!"


    "Show me that," Faerie and Alex leaned in to inspect it.


    "He looks nothing like you," Alex decided.


    "He''s got brown eyes. A blind person could see your eyes are blue," Faerie added.


    "It doesn''t matter," I told them. "My money is green, and men buy me drinks. So long as it''s a real ID, bars are happy to look the other way."


    "Fucking white boys," Deon concluded. "No way I could get away with that. Officer Sexy outside would arrest my black ass."


    I distributed the pencils and said, "I wouldn''t worry about Officers Sexy or Lea DeLaria. They''re performers."


    "How do you know?" Alex interrogated.


    "I didn''t see a paddywagon, did you? And neither of them were carrying. Has anybody figured out the riddles on the back page?"


    "One," Faerie answered. "What begins in time and ends in debt? The letter T."


    "Nice," I made a note.


    "Next riddle," Faerie continued. "''Turn me on my side, and I am everything. Cut me in half and I am nothing. What am I?''"


    No one answered.


    Deon said aloud what most of us were thinking, "We should beat the crowd for clues. Someone''s figured it out, for sure."


    "Y''all go mingle," Alex said. "I''ll stay and watch our stuff."


    The rest of us ventured into the small crowd. Faerie and Deon stayed together, but I walked directly toward Oliver.


    He was collecting empty glasses from around the room, moving at a rhythmic pace, while the band covered "Daydream in Blue" by I Monster.


    "Hi," I said with a smile. "I''m Bastian."


    "Oliver," he answered warmly.


    Our eyes locked. I was transfixed but tried to act normal. "My friends and I are trying to figure out these riddles on the back page, and we''re stuck on the second one."


    He sighed wistfully. "Can''t help you. This is the second time I''ve worked one of these events. So giving you the answers would be cheating."


    "Bummer. Here I was hoping you and I could figure this out together," I lamented with puppy dog eyes.


    "It must suck to not get what you were hoping for," he teased.


    "It does suck. You''d think I''d be used to it by now," I said and stepped closer.


    "Oh, is your life super hard?" He mocked, leaning toward me.


    "Not right now, it isn''t." I licked my lips. "But the night is young."


    Oliver blushed and bit his lip. "I should get back to work."


    "Can you give me a clue, at least?"


    "For what?"


    "The riddle, of course. What were you thinking?"


    Oliver smirked and looked away dramatically. "It''s a number," he said finally.


    "Yeah, I''d love to get your number," I answered earnestly.


    He laughed. "No, dummy. That''s your clue. It''s a number. Figure it out."


    Oliver turned and walked away, glancing back with a wink. I smiled, watching him work for a second before I noticed Alice leading Nathan and August to our table. I hurried over to hug them both hello.


    Alex gave a friendly, seated wave.


    "The answer to the second riddle is 8. Oliver told me," I told them, as I waved to him from across the room.


    "He''s cute!" August exclaimed. "Dibs."


    "I saw him first."


    "Did you kiss?"


    "No. But we had a moment."


    "First kiss to dibs."


    "Ugh, you are the worst. Fine."


    "And we''re off to the races."


    Alex, meanwhile, had been focusing on the clues. "So 8 corresponds to T." He held up his menu to show us, "This is what we''ve got so far."


    _e__,  At  A__  _ate,  t_e  _o__ou_e  _ai_.


    A_a__o_  A__  _o_e  _e  __o  E_te_  _e_e.


    "That doesn''t help much," I admitted.


    Nathan said, "We should try and find Humdrum''s undercover operative."


    "And I have a sexy barman to meet," August made a face at me and walked off in Oliver''s direction.


    "Yeah, shoot your shot, asshole," I said.


    They walked off to meet people, leaving me and Alex sitting at the table.


    "I should call Jude," I said. "He''s about to be late."


    Jude answered on the second ring, sounding out of breath. Hills in San Francisco can be brutal if you''re not used to them. "Hey. I was¡­ delayed, but I''m walking there now... Just a few minutes."


    "Okay, but hurry. It''s about to start. Remember the password?"


    "Jejune."


    "Great. See you when you get here." I hung up the phone.


    "What are his chances, ya think?" Alex asked, watching August and Oliver flirt on the opposite side of the bar. I followed his gaze and saw they were hitting it off.


    I frowned. "I dunno. 50-50, I guess. We''ll see. What about you and Faerie? You were so cute together."


    He shrugged and looked down. "We''d been at odds for a while, but we got into a big fight after leaving Windemere. We''re better as friends, I think."


    "Okay," I said. "If you think it''s best, so do I."


    Alex looked at me pensively. "How do you date so many people?"


    "Shit. You make it sound like I have a revolving door."


    "You kind of do."


    I sighed. "C''mon, man. I dunno. I try to enjoy moments and people for what they are and who they are. Not what I want them to be. And since moments are fleeting, so too, are the men in my life."


    Alex shook his head. "I''m not like that. I never even dated anyone before Faerie."


    "Really? You''re so mature and shit. I thought everybody had more experience than me."


    Alex laughed. "Not this guy. Upstate New York isn''t exactly the most trans-friendly locale. I flew out here so I could be me. Faerie and I met at Lark Inn, and it''s been us against the world ever since. I don''t think we''re meant to be together, but I''m afraid to be alone, you know?"


    I was silent for a second, then I reached over to hold his hand. "You''re not alone."


    A shy smile broke his face. He squeezed my hand and then pulled his back.


    I wondered if I was too forward.


    "I was thinking about the Killer Nachos," Alex said. "You want some?"


    "Always. I''ll watch our stuff."


    "Cool. Back in a bit," Alex got up and walked to the bar.


    August and Oliver were still flirting, so I distracted myself by solving the sudoku puzzle. When I finished and looked up again, Oliver had gone back to work, and August was mingling next to Nathan.


    Then Reverend Wu stepped on stage, wearing the same colorful stole from chapter two, but this time with black pants and a white blouse.


    "Welcome." Her voice rang clear through the sound system. "And thank you for shining your light with us here tonight. It warms my heart to see so many new faces in our congregation. Tonight, your journey will bring you to the very doors of Elsewhere and Eve Herself! I know you''re all eager to meet her. She''s close now. To help you on your path to Eve, I''ve asked the band to play a special song for you all this evening. Listen closely. You might find a clue you didn''t know you were looking for. Please join me in a round of applause for the wonderful band."


    We applauded enthusiastically as then the drums and guitar began. Reverend Wu stepped backstage, and the band played Jefferson Airplane''s "White Rabbit."


    I listened intently to the lyrics and watched as Faerie, Deon, August, Nathan, and several others in the crowd moved toward Alice by the door. A small crowd gathered around her.


    But as I watched the crowd move, something else caught my eye. A painting on the far wall. It was abstract, with heavy brush strokes of gold and royal blues; an image of a rose bush in a field; and at the base of the bush, in the bottom corner, was a white rabbit.


    Alex came back with the nachos.


    "Thanks," I said, grabbing a bite. "Be right back," and ran over to the painting. Nothing unusual. I moved the painting to look behind it and found another clue: a small sticker of a caterpillar smoking from a hookah. The smoke read, "Call row 8."


    I wondered for a moment. The sudoku puzzle! Looking at my menu and I saw the first three numbers of row 8 were 415. San Francisco''s area code!


    I called and got an automated message. It sounded like Alice''s bubbly voice.


    "You chased the rabbit. Well done. Your reward is another clue. Four equals L."


    The automated voice message ended at the same time Jude walked through the door, looking disheveled and distressed. I ran over to meet him at the door.


    "Thanks, Alice," I said. "He''s my brother. I''ll take it from here."


    She was fielding questions from a small crowd and looked grateful for the assist.


    I walked Jude to our table and asked, "What took you? The party''s started."


    Jude looked like he was fighting back tears. He said, "They gave me a fine. I jumped on the back of the bus, but some cops got on and asked me for proof I paid, but I didn''t have it. They made me get off the bus and answer a bunch of questions, and they gave me a fine. I don''t have money for food. How am I supposed to pay $150 when I can''t even afford a bus ticket?"


    I grabbed him by the shoulders and said, "You''re not. Give it to me. I''ll take care of it." He did, and I put it in my pocket.


    "Such horseshit," I cursed San Francisco. "This fucking city has its priorities upside down. Do you know San Francisco loses money on fare enforcement?"


    "Huh?"


    "Yeah. The city pays fare enforcers millions of dollars every year to harass people, but ultimately they don''t generate enough money in fines to pay for the enforcement program. So San Francisco is effectively burning money into a program that punishes poor people for being poor while turning the city into a police state."


    Jude shrugged and said, "Someone has to pay to keep it running."


    "Yeah, of course, but the city could pay for public transit any number of ways. It''s a public utility for chrissake. Billionaires benefit from society, so you''d think they''d want to ensure it''s running smoothly. Not only because it''s the right thing to do; it''s good business. You want your employees to arrive at work on time. You want your customers to arrive freely without being hassled by tax collectors. This whole damn city is full of rich pricks sitting atop beautiful skyscrapers while the rest of us fight over crumbs they deign to toss over their balconies."


    Jude looked around and marveled at the opulence we stood in. "You say that, but the room we''re currently in is¡­ beautiful."


    "Yeah, that''s San Francisco for you," I said. "Just try to not step on human feces once you''re out on the sidewalk."


    "Are you drunk?"


    "No! Barely. I had one drink."


    "You sound like you''re about to lead a French-style revolution."


    "Don''t tempt me. Besides, we''re busy tonight. C''mon and meet my friends."


    "There are a lot of people here," Jude said hesitantly.


    "Don''t worry. They''re going to love you."


    I led Jude to our table and introduced him.


    Everyone had returned to share notes and rumors. Faerie and Nathan were sitting at opposite ends of the table and seemed to be ignoring each other. Jude sat next to Faerie, and I noticed the two locking eyes.


    Nathan shared the clue from Alice, 3 = D. I told them what I''d discovered behind the rabbit painting, and we modified the sentences accordingly.


    _ell,  At  A__  _ate,  t_e  Do__ou_e  _aid.


    A_a_do_  All  _o_e  _e  __o  E_te_  _e_e.


    "I still have no idea what this is supposed to say," said Faerie.


    Deon rejoined, "Me neither."


    "Well, that can''t be it, right? There''s got to be more," said August.


    "Did anybody see a chessboard?" I asked. "The song mentions one."


    Everybody shook their heads, and Faerie said, "I didn''t see any."


    Deon added, "Not unless you count the floor." He was looking at the black and white marble dance floor.


    I looked at it slack-jawed for a second before it dawned on me.


    "Deon, you''re a genius," I shouted and jumped out of my seat, running to the dance floor. Several people were dancing to a soulful hard rock cover of Leonard Cohen''s "The Future," complicating my search.


    Chess boards are 8 by 8 squares. In setup, the White Knights can start the game in four possible squares.


    I gently elbowed my way through the crowd, searching the ground for the right square. Found it! A strip of white tape covering a white tile. I lifted the tape. On the marble floor, someone had sharpied, "S = 1 & M = 2"


    Suddenly a scream rang out near the entrance. The band stopped playing as four men dressed in Nonchalant robes were forcibly dragging Officers Sexy and Lea DeLaria toward the stage. No one else did anything, assuming it was part of the show.


    It looked to me like Lea DeLaria could have taken them all in a fight, but the cultists had knives, so no one was resisting. The officers'' billie clubs had been confiscated. Officer Sexy was tossed onstage while Lea DeLaria was forced into a chair to watch. Reverend Wu was center stage. The band had cleared off during the commotion.


    That''s when the first unbelievable thing happened. Officer Sexy put up a show of resistance, and Reverend Wu, who looked older than fifty, certifiably whooped his ass. It was masterful. Wu must have been some kind of martial arts expert because, in a matter of seconds, she artfully reduced a man (at least) three times her weight to the ground, tapping for mercy.


    Wu pulled out a knife from behind her waist and held it to Officer Sexy''s throat. "It seems we have some unexpected - and uninvited, guests. Humdrum operatives have infiltrated our sacred celebration! We thought our security would protect us from Humdrum interference, but like the Trojan Horse, they snuck in right under our noses!


    "I know there are more Humdrum spies here tonight. You have one minute to reveal yourselves, or I kill this man!"


    Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably. Presumably, we were all sent here by the Humdrum Institute. We looked at one another across the table. Were we supposed to confess?


    Lea DeLaria cried out, "Please, this is all a big misunderstanding. They offered us cash to deliver a message, but the Humdrum spy never arrived, I swear!"


    "How convenient," mocked Reverend Wu. "And what was this message you were supposed to convey?"


    "Find the door to Elsewhere. Inform the Institute of its location."


    In an instant, Wu''s face conveyed fury and terror. "So, Humdrum wants to invade Elsewhere, too. It''s not enough they''ve bought the government. It''s not enough they brainwash people and turn them into living zombies. Now they want to destroy paradise itself! Well, I won''t let that happen.


    "Alice, lock the doors. If the spy won''t reveal themselves, we have no choice. No one leaves this room tonight, starting with him." Wu pulled Officer Sexy''s hair threateningly and raised the knife to kill him.


    Then the lights went out. A deafening bang filled the darkness, and when the lights came back on, Reverend Wu was dead in a puddle of blood, slowly spreading across the stage.


    I looked around the room for a shooter, but everything seemed in order. Alice still manned the door. Bennie, Annie, and Peter were all at their stations. The four cultists were all seemingly dumbstruck at the sight of their leader''s dead body. I had a working theory but nothing concrete yet.


    Lea DeLaria wasted no time, surprising her assailants and cuffing them to the chair they had forced her into. Officer Sexy jumped in to help, and the four cultists were quickly subdued.


    Lea DeLaria shouted so everyone in the room could hear her. "This is now a crime scene. My name is Detective Dupin. This is my partner Detective Lockhart." I made a mental note to change their names going forward.


    Detective Lockhart checked Reverend Wu for a pulse, shaking his head to Dupin. Then Lockhart checked the body for clues and found a key, holding it up for Dupin and everyone else to see.


    Detective Dupin addressed the crowd, "I have to ask you all to remain here until the killer is identified. Since Wu threatened everyone in this room before she was killed, everyone had a motive and is therefore suspect.


    "As for these four," Dupid kicked the shoe of one of the cultists handcuffed to a chair, "Is there a storage closet or somewhere we can hold them?"


    Annie the bar manager spoke up. She sounded scared but in control. "Over here," she walked across the dance floor to open a door not far from the bar. It looked like a liquor pantry, with beer kegs on the ground and bottles on wooden shelves along the wall. "You can keep them in here, and I''ll bolt the door," she said to the detectives.


    Once the cultists were locked away, Detective Lockhart spoke to the crowd of suspects and witnesses.


    "Seeing as the Nonchalant were willing to murder everyone here, and I owe my life directly to someone''s fast action, I''m not inclined to press the case of Wu''s death any further than needs be."


    Detective Dupin chastised Lockhart, "A woman is dead, and it''s our job to find out who pulled the trigger! Regardless the circumstances."


    Lockhart answered, "Then you solve that case. I''m more interested in finding whatever this unlocks." He held up the key found on Hu''s body. There was a symbol on the base of the key.


    Deon shouted and pulled Faerie forward. "We know that! One of the cultists pointed it out to us. Over here!"


    Deon led us all to a locked cabinet near the back of the room, in a dark corner behind the bar. Sure enough, the symbol on the cabinet lock was the same as the base of the key. Detective Lockhart inserted the key, turned it, and opened the cabinet.


    It seemed to hold nothing unusual. Books and binders and small boxes and such. But Faerie noticed it. Alice in Wonderland. She pulled it off the shelf, opened it, and found our next clue.


    The book was a lockbox disguised as a children''s novel. The opened lockbox revealed a riddle and sixteen lettered dials.


    Faerie read the riddle aloud for the audience. "What did the dormouse say?"


    "Feed your head!" someone shouted.


    Faerie changed the dials to input that sentence. "It doesn''t work! ''Feed your head'' has only twelve characters."


    The crowd reacted with groans and murmurs.


    I remembered the clues from the dancefloor and put them into the sentences. That gave me enough information to guess at several letters, filling each in accordingly.


    _ell, At A__  _ate, t_e Do_mouse Said.


    A_a_do_  All  _o_e  _e  __o E_te_  _e_e.


    The question mentioned the dormouse, so I filled in the R and H space as well.


    _ell, At A__  Rate, the Dormouse Said.


    A_a_do_  All  Ho_e  _e  _ho E_ter  _ere.


    Both sentences were coming into shape. Having read Divine Comedy (in middle school while the other kids were playing foursquare), I could fill in the remaining blanks.


    "Well, at any rate!" I shouted, rushing to Deon and Faerie to show them.


    "Ah!" Faerie exclaimed and laughed and dialed the letters into the lockbox. It clicked dramatically. She opened the lid to reveal a red button. Apprehensively, she pressed it.


    A hiss of air released nearby, scaring many of us, as a section of the wall slid sideways, revealing a secret staircase to an underground level.


    Detective Lockhart stepped forward and asked Annie, "What''s down there?"


    Annie spoke up so everyone could hear her, "It used to be a brothel. Then it was a speakeasy. Now it''s our main dance floor. There''s no bar downstairs, so if anyone is hungry or thirsty, or needs to use the bathroom, now would be the time. Let''s all reconvene in 10 minutes and go down together, yeah? In the meantime, I''ll share a few stories from the Hippodrome''s colorful past."


    A few people wandered off to the bar or bathroom or wherever.


    Annie continued, "They called the street outside ''Terrific Street,'' and it was once a vacation destination of sorts for rich folks ''slumming it-''"


    My phone started ringing, so I stepped away to answer in relative privacy.


    My mother was on the other line. She sounded lucid. Her voice was gravely serious. "Bastian, I have to tell you something, and I need you to hear me out, okay?"Stolen story; please report.


    Already I had a sinking feeling. "Okay¡­"


    "My bank card is missing, and today a purchase was made at a game store in San Francisco for $50. Jude stole my card before he left and used it to buy video games!"


    "Wow! Did you cancel the card?"


    "Of course, I canceled the card! That''s not the point. He crossed state lines and committed fraud! That''s a felony! He''s going to jail for this! For a long fucking time!"


    "Mom, calm down. I know this is upsetting but let''s keep it in perspective. We''re talking about $50 here. Just call Jude and scream at him until you feel better."


    "He needs to learn! You need to tell me where he is so the police can collect him."


    Something primal in me switched on. I became ice-cold and razor-sharp, the cruelest side of myself. My voice was calm and clear, but the effect was unmistakable. "You honestly thought I was going to help you send my little brother to prison? Over $50? You''re fucking high. Jude is my brother. I protect him from you. Go to Hell."


    I hung up. My heart was pounding in my chest. I looked around for Jude. He and Faerie were standing close together, looking carefree and listening to Annie regale them with stories.


    I took several slow breaths to try and calm myself. My phone rang again.


    "Yes?" I answered.


    "Now you listen to me," Tom''s voice growled threateningly. He thought to bully me into going along with it. Of course, Tom was behind this. I hung up again.


    I steadied myself. The phone rang again. This time instead of angry and threatening, Tom sounded victimized. "Why are you hanging up on me?" So tragic.


    "Because you''re a douchebag." I hung up again. The phone rang again. This time I let Tom finish what he wanted to say.


    "You''re a faggoty little bitch, you know that!?! If you were here, I''d beat the living shit out of you, you smug piece of shit! You''re disgusting! A sick fucking pervert! And you''re gonna burn in Hell! Fuck you! FAGGOT!" This time he hung up.


    I stared out into space for a few seconds. Then straightened my tie and flattened my shirt, and I wandered back to the crowd.


    Annie was finishing her story. "-the tunnels were also used to kidnap people and smuggle them onto ships, where they''d be forced into slavery or the French Foreign Legion. Most never made it back. Alright, that''s my story, folks. Is everyone ready? Detectives, you wanna lead us down?"


    Lockhart stepped through the threshold and down the stairs. Dupin and the rest of us followed.


    The downstairs room was massive. Cobalt ropes hung from the high ceiling. Disco balls, lasers, smoke machines, and blacklight decorations covered the space. The back wall was covered in full-length mirror panels. ''Twilight Zone'' by Golden Earring blasted out the sound system.


    Then the next unbelievable thing happened. Dozens of people came running downstairs, parting the crowd and taking over the dancefloor.


    They organized themselves, and when the beat dropped, they broke into a synchronized dance routine that left the rest of us dumbstruck. Several dancers climbed the cobalt ropes to twirl and swing in unison. They finished with incredible acrobatic feats and flips. We applauded until my arms hurt. Then the dancers ran to pull us forward, so we were all dancing together.


    Reverend Wu''s voice rang out through the speaker system ominously. "The next step will require energy from all of you. Dancing is the key to opening the door. You have thirty minutes. Dance! Eve, to you, we offer this prayer!"


    The reverend''s voice faded, and a timer high on the wall turned on, counting down from 30 minutes. The music volume turned back up. It was clear what we were supposed to do, so all we got to it.


    I closed my eyes and let the music take me. All my anxieties faded, and for one fleeting moment, I forgot myself in the music.


    When I opened my eyes again, I saw Jude and Faerie kissing. My jaw dropped. A dozen thoughts and feelings flooded my mind at once. I was happy for Jude but also jealous because I had complex feelings for Faerie. I let those feelings go and instead thought of Alex.


    I found him standing against the wall, looking morose.


    I walked over to him and said, "Hey."


    Alex crossed his arms and smiled sadly when he saw me. "Hey, don''t worry about me. You should dance. Looked like you were having fun."


    "Nah. I mean, I was, but now I''m out of breath." I collapsed on the wall next to him. "You don''t wanna dance?"


    "I''m not a dancer."


    "Everyone is a dancer," I said. "It''s primal. Just close your eyes and move."


    "I don''t want to," he answered flatly.


    That shut me down for a minute. Finally, I said, "I get it. A crowd of people isn''t your scene. If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?"


    He turned and made a face at me, laughing softly. Finally, he answered, "My dad owns a horse ranch outside Buffalo. Growing up, my chore was to feed the horses and brush them. I saw one give birth. My dad let me name the foal. Tabitha. Tabby. She''s massive now. I was the first one to ride her. She won''t let anybody ride her but me. If I could be anywhere, I''d be with her right now."


    A genuine smile broke his melancholy. He made so much more sense to me now.


    "My sister loved horses," I told him. "She would have liked you."


    He turned to me again, his expression inscrutable. "Thanks. You''re a good guy," he said so sincerely it made me uncomfortable. I thought of Rufio and how I cheated on him. I thought of Jude and how I abandoned him to the whims of violent narcissists.


    "Sometimes," I said. "I try to be."


    He looked ready to argue the point, but Reverend Wu''s voice rang out over the speakers. "The door is nearly open. More dancing is required! Vigorous dancing will open the door! Everyone now!"


    A remix of David Bowie''s greatest hits threaded into "Magic Dance" was the tune of choice, and that proved too much for Alex. I practically dragged him to the center of the dance floor, but he relented.


    At first, he looked anxious, but I held his hand and danced with him until he caught the beat. After a minute, he was dancing on his own, enjoying the moment.


    But moments are fleeting. 30 of them must have passed because the music went silent, and Reverend Wu''s voice came back over the system.


    "Well done! Look, the door is opening! Go to her!"


    One of the mirror panels that covered the far wall slid back and to the side, revealing a narrow secret room! We all rushed in. It was cramped, but everyone fit.


    The real back wall was made of brick and concrete, where an opening had been boarded shut. The underground smuggling tunnel Annie had mentioned?


    "Hey, Bastian, come look at this," Deon shouted at the opposite end of the room. I went to see him holding another lockbox with dials on the front. This box was longer than the first. I knew what had to be done, changing the dials to read ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE. A mechanism clicked in response, and I opened the lid. Inside was a crowbar.


    I gave the crowbar to Deon. "You wanna do the honors?"


    His eyes lit up and sparkled with glee, taking the crowbar in his hands. "Yessir, very much."


    Deon ran across the room to the boarded door and got to it, ripping and smashing every piece of wood in his way. It didn''t take long, and when the deed was done, he stood back to wipe the sweat from his brow and admire his work. The ground was a mess of splinters, but the doorway was clean and clear. We all gave Deon a round of applause and then moved toward the doorway.


    But Alice came walking out of the pitch-black tunnel first, scaring the crap out of most of us. Deon was standing closest to the doorway and had the most dramatic reaction, screaming like he''d seen a ghost and running behind the rest of us.


    "Congratulations, all of you," Alice laughed. "You''ve made it. Come step through the door. I have to ask that you go in groups of no more than 8 people at a time. The tunnel is small and old. When you''re ready, I''ll send the first team in."


    "We''re ready!" August cried out and grabbed Nathan and Deon. Alex, Faerie, Jude, and I stepped forward as well. "There''s seven of us. We''re ready."


    Alice smiled widely. "Excellent. Please step forward."


    August marched in confidently, and the rest of us followed with more or less confidence.


    We stepped through the doorway and found a large rectangular room built of concrete. At the end of the room was a smaller tunnel, and over the tunnel, someone had carved the words, ''Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here.''


    "Anybody else getting the sense this might be a bad idea?" Deon asked.


    "Don''t be a scaredy cat," Faerie teased. "It''s just a dark and scary tunnel to Hell. What could go wrong?"


    As she said it, a ball of fire burst into light, floating midair in the tunnel doorway, spooking the lot of us. We stepped toward it cautiously, August in the lead.


    Deon objected, "I''m putting my foot down. Do not touch the floating fire thing."


    August brought his hand to it and then slowly through it.


    Deon threw his hands and scoffed.


    "It''s not real fire," said August. "It has no heat or mass. It''s got to be some kind of illusion."


    "Smoke machines and laser projectors?" Faerie asked.


    "Nathan said, "This is way too sophisticated. Look at the detail. And where are the projectors?"


    We looked around but only saw concrete walls.


    "Well, it''s not magic," Alex said simply. "So it has to be some kind of technology. More mirrors, maybe?" He stepped forward and moved his hands around and through the floating fireball. The image wasn''t distorted or darkened at all.


    Deon had reached his limit. "Okay. Nope. Sorry. I''m out. I seen this movie. No, thank you. Good luck, white folk. See y''all at home." He turned to leave the way we had come, but the door was gone. Somehow while we were watching the floating light, the doorway had sealed itself. The only thing remaining was a solid wall of concrete. We were trapped with no way back.


    Deon started screaming and banging his hands against the wall, to no avail. Faerie rushed forward to try and calm him down. I was too dumbfounded to do anything but blink, mouth agape at the wall. It was impossible. We should have heard something. It couldn''t be possible, but it happened.


    We all had to touch the wall for ourselves to confirm it. Deon was trembling but had otherwise calmed. We silently processed our situation.


    Finally, I walked to the middle of the narrow dark room. "Okay. A lot of really weird shit has happened tonight, and I can''t explain most of it. But we''re underground, and there''s only one way forward. Sorry to be ''that white guy,'' but we literally can''t turn back now. I suggest we continue forward."


    "No way," said Deon. "I never shoulda come down in this dark tunnel. I know better. Now y''all finna get me killed or worse. And what''s it doing now?"


    The fireball was moving from us and down the tunnel, taking the light with it.


    "I don''t want to get left here in the dark, do you?" I said, following the light.


    Everyone hurried after it into the tunnel, which went on for what I assumed were several city blocks. I wondered how many people had been kidnapped and carried away forever down these dark, musty tunnels.


    We followed the light to an old metal door with a circular wheel in the middle to open and lock it. The light disappeared into the door, leaving us in near darkness. Most of us were using our phones as flashlights. We all conferred silently through an exchange of glances and nods. August turned the wheel and pulled open the door.


    Inside was more of the same tunnel, except this tunnel had identical doors at opposite ends. In the center, the same glowing ball of fire floated midair. To me, it seemed a terrible place to be trapped. But what else were we supposed to do? Behind was sealed shut. The only way was forward. We stepped through the door, and as soon as the last of us crossed the threshold, the door swung shut, clanging loudly. The fire light snuffed itself out, returning us to darkness. Everyone screamed when the door shut, terrified, but soon, fear gave way to wonder.


    The walls somehow disappeared, and we weren''t in a dark and scary tunnel anymore, but instead a wild field of tall grass. Stars twinkled overhead in a sky, so clear I could make out the milky way. It reminded me of Montana skies.


    Standing in front of us was Alice, radiant.


    "How are you here?" I asked first, stupefied.


    Nathan followed up, "You were behind us. Who''s watching the others?"


    Alice''s laugh was unlike any I''d heard before. It was girlish and cute, yet there were tones of sadness and age I wasn''t expecting. It occurred to me that Alice wasn''t very young at all. Or perhaps she was. Her face was ageless, unblemished, but not youthful. There was an edge to her I hadn''t noticed before.


    "Who are you?" I asked plainly.


    "Who in the world am I? Ah, that''s the great puzzle," Alice answered.


    "Very funny," said Nathan sarcastically. "Answer the question. How are you here?"


    "I''m not here. I''ve never been here. That you can see me is due to the help of my friends, but I''m not here."


    "You won''t mind if I test that claim," August walked forward to touch her shoulder. Like the ball of fire, his hand went through her as if she wasn''t even there. Her appearance remained unblemished.


    August jumped back, and we all panicked a little, trying to get away, but we were trapped. Our surroundings appeared as a dew-covered field of lush green grass, but it was an illusion. The walls of the tunnel were still real. There was nowhere to run.


    "Please, calm yourselves," Alice begged. "None of this is real. It can''t hurt you."


    That had close to the desired effect. We all stared at her in heavy silence.


    Faerie spoke first, "Are you Eve?"


    Alice smiled again and nodded imperceptibly.


    "If you''re not here, where are you?" Faerie continued.


    "Elsewhere. That''s not why I brought you here."


    "We''re here for a reason?"


    "Yes. I had to warn you. There''s still time."


    "Time for what?"


    "To save your planet! A flood is coming, worse than the last great flood."


    "How do we stop it?" Faerie asked.


    "Unite the people. Dark times are coming, and you must be ready."


    "And how do we do that?"


    "You must return anger with forgiveness, fear with courage, and hate with love. The times will test you. The people will hate and fear you. You must love them and welcome them because, without them, you will all lose everything."


    Faerie rolled her eyes, "It''s a little hard to turn the other cheek if you''re dead. Sorry, I''m digging the ''come-together'' vibes, but let''s talk facts for a second. They murder people like me for sport. And you''re telling me to love and welcome them? No, thank you, blondie. Not buying it. I love the special effects, though. Not sure how you installed projectors and hid them in concrete, but I am thoroughly impressed."


    Eve smiled sadly. "Only together can you hope to overcome this challenge. Unite the people. Save yourselves." She faded into dust, carried away on an impossible breeze. And when she was gone, the illusion faded with her, and we found ourselves back in the dark and scary tunnel with big metal doors at both ends.


    "Well, that''s one way to end a conversation," Faerie quipped.


    August marched forward and opened the door. The tunnel continued on the other side. A light could be seen at the end. We all raced toward it and out of the insane darkness. But outside the darkness, things made even less sense.


    Somehow without ever turning, we''d done a 180 to the same secret room behind the dance floor. I lost count of how many unbelievable things this made. To compound the strangeness of events, the entire room was empty. Neither Alice nor any of the other participants could be found.


    We went upstairs, and it was the same Hippodrome, except it was empty. Only Bennie, Annie, Peter, and Oliver remained, drinking at the bar. They cheered when we walked in.


    "You came back!" Peter shouted. "Everyone else is gone. Last call for alcohol!"


    I looked at the time. It was almost midnight. Somehow, hours had passed while we were down in that tunnel. I tried to make sense of what had just transpired and failed. Did that really happen? How? Was that the end?


    The others were taking it better than I, rushing forward and celebrating. Jude appeared next to me, bumping my elbow to get my attention.


    "What kinda party did you bring me to? This is fuckin'' nuts."


    I couldn''t think. My brain had short-circuited. When I came back online, I blurted out the first thought that came to me.


    "Did you steal Mom''s debit card and buy video games?"


    His neck and shoulder muscles tightened, confessing his guilt. That was his tell. It was how I always knew when Jude was lying.


    He just shrugged. "So what did Mom say?"


    "She said she was gonna press charges and send you to prison. She honestly thought I was going to help her do it. The fucking nerve. Tom put her up to it, naturally. He had some¡­ charming things to say."


    "Tom can eat shit in Hell. Yes. I bought a 3DS and Pokemon Platinum. When we get back to Perramont, you can play it. I don''t think Faerie is going to let me crash with her. I must''ve said or did something wrong because she was all hot one minute and then ice cold the next. I feel like I was being toyed with for someone else''s benefit, that Alex guy you''ve been spending all night with."


    "What? That''s crazy. I don''t even¡­ Well, shit, okay. I''m sorry that happened. Faerie''s kind of an asshole. And forget Mom. She''s hundreds of miles away. I don''t care that you stole the card. Fact, I''m glad. Being homeless gets boring. That 3DS was an excellent idea. Mom said the total came to $50. That''s a fantastic deal. Very frugal. Well done."


    He shrugged. "They were both used."


    I laughed at him. Even in theft, he tried to be considerate. "I will always have your back. I don''t care if you''re guilty. You''re my brother. You know that, right?"


    He nodded silently, trying to conceal his emotions, but I saw them.


    "Let''s go home. It''s late. Somehow." I looked up in time to see Oliver lean in to kiss August sweetly. Then Oliver noticed me watching them. Humiliated and crestfallen, I looked away immediately.


    I took a deep breath and tried to exhale my frustration and disappointment.


    "C''mon," I said to Jude. "Let''s get out of here." I waved goodbye to my fellow street urchins, "See y''all for dinner on Friday!"


    They looked unsure whether to stay or follow. I didn''t wait for them to decide and walked out the door and swiftly home. Jude struggled to keep up with my pace. We arrived at Perramont, and I promptly passed out.


    Chapter 11 - Azazel


    They separated at the docks to cover more ground. Morgan questioned nearby shop owners, and Raf sought out other vagrants in the area. They met up around dinnertime with Morgan empty-handed. Most of the shop owners knew Pika, but few knew anything about him.


    She was sitting at their rendezvous spot when she spotted them, Raf and three others, who appeared to be young vagrants.


    Raf introduced everyone first, "Morgan, this is Faerie, Alex, and Deon. They were friends of Pika''s."


    "It''s a pleasure to meet you all," Morgan said. "I wish it was under different circumstances." None of them said anything. They looked nervous.


    "They told me what happened to Pika," Raf said. "I offered them dinner to come and tell you what they told me. It''s... it''s a hell of a story."


    The smallest one of the bunch did most of the talking at first. Alex seemed to be the leader of their group of street urchins. He and Faerie were born on another island and ran away from their families to be themselves together.


    Deon came from Exile. His parents died in a fire, but he was big and strong, so he found work on a cargo vessel. When the ship docked at Crescent, Deon fell in love with the island, abandoned his post, and swore he''d never leave. That was two years ago.


    Over seared fish with coconut rice, the trio explained that Pika was more of an acquaintance than a friend. He was older and born in Garden. He never told them why he left, and he avoided public places. Mostly ate and prepared fish he''d caught and slept outside, far from anyone. They figured he was just paranoid. At least, that''s what they thought before the Raven got him.


    "Wait, wait, what? A Raven?" Morgan interrupted. Raf gave her a meaningful look.


    "Not a raven. The Raven. It''s a monster that eats vagrants on the island," Alex told her furiously. "It''s been going on for years. No one cares because the Raven only takes people who aren''t important. People like us. Every few months, another one goes missing. We told the Brother investigating Pika''s death, but he didn''t believe us."


    Morgan and Raf looked at each other, and a silent conversation passed between them. The trio watched anxiously, and it was the girl who spoke, Faerie, "but you do believe us, don''t you?"


    Morgan considered her thoughtfully and said, "We have reason to believe your story, but it''s not much to go on. What can you tell us about this Raven? How do you know it took your friend?"


    "Deon saw it," she said, and everyone turned to look at Deon. He had been the quietest of the trio. A giant young man, but when he spoke, it was in a gentle timbre, almost a whisper.


    "I heard about the Raven back in Exile, but I didn''t believe. They told me a giant bird lived in the Farthest Wood that ate wanderers. Before I left Exile, a rumor went round that they caught the Raven, but without a body to prove it, my parents figured it was a myth. That was four years ago. I didn''t hear of it again until I came to live here. When they told me about a giant black bird that eats people, I thought it was a joke, a story from the mainland to scare kids. Until I saw it take Pika." Morgan and Raf leaned in with rapt attention. No one interrupted him.


    "It was at night. I was getting up to pee when I saw Pika from across the docks. He was tying his boat to a tree. That was normal. Pika liked to fish at night. I saw something dash across the beach. It was like a shadow, too dark to make out any details, and it moved so fast. It snuck up behind Pika, and that''s when I saw it clear in the moonlight. It was bigger than Pika, with a giant beak and shiny black eyes. It had to be the Raven. I yelled at Pika to run, but it was too late. The second I screamed, the Raven burst into thick, black smoke. I couldn''t see anything, but I heard Pika scream, and then nothing. Alex and Fairy came, and when the smoke cleared, we looked for him, but he was gone."


    "When did this happen?" Morgan asked.


    "More than a moon ago," Deon answered. Raf and Morgan both reacted. The body washed ashore only days ago. If what Deon said was true, the Raven kept Pika alive for over a moon, feeding off him. But why would a giant bird drink blood? And burst into smoke? Morgan had never heard of such a thing. They needed to bring this information to Captain Reynard, but he was gone.


    "Thank you for your help," Raf told the trio. "We''re in your debt. My sister and I need to deliberate. We will find this thing, whatever it is, and stop it. I give you my word. Until next time, good night."


    The three were grateful for the meal. As the siblings mounted their horses, Faerie ran up to Morgan.


    "You do believe us, don''t you? You''ll find the thing and stop it?" Her eyes were shining with hope and fear. Morgan couldn''t be sure of anything. Their story made no sense.


    "I believe you," she said. Morgan wasn''t honestly sure what she believed but said it convincingly. The weight that lifted off Faerie''s face made the lie worth it. Morgan reached up and pulled one of her hairpins out. It was a simple but pretty piece, silver, studded with jade. She gave it to Fairy and offered her a promise; "We will find this thing, whatever it is. We will kill it."


    Fairy burst into tears of relief and joy, falling to the ground. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she kept repeating. Alex and Deon stepped forward to pull Fairy up. They all thanked the royal siblings, and together, they parted.


    Morgan needed a moment to collect herself as they rode toward Castle Moondial. It had been a particularly strange and exhausting day. The enigmatic and probably dangerous Brother Timothy sent them on a fae witch hunt. If Shaman Kroeser''s cthulian victim is legitimate, Adam might summon the specter of another genocide. And to top it off, an actual fae serial killer might indeed be living on the island, preying on their people, unnoticed for years. How many had died unspeakable deaths in anonymity? Morgan shook her head to clear the thought. Brother Timothy needed to be informed. Deon''s account confirmed his suspicion, but the alleged cthulian victim might interest him more. If the oceanfolk move against mankind, Adam would respond with devastating force. Morgan and Raf rode in silence to their cliff-side castle home.


    The sun was nearly hidden under the horizon by the time Morgan and Raf stabled their horses at Moondial. The sky was a mess of reds and oranges, blues and purples, with increasingly darker hues.


    A signal was sounding in the low tower. All castle inhabitants were being called to the great hall for an announcement. Castle conferences were usually boring affairs and scheduled once a month on the new moon. It was far too soon to be having another conference.


    With their day already long and trying, the signal amplified all the fears and anxieties Morgan and especially Raf had been carrying since they woke up. As they ran to the great hall, they saw scared, tearful castle staff glancing at the siblings with dread and pity.


    Something was very, very wrong. Morgan could feel a rising panic, looked around and saw more panicked faces. Raf looked terrified. She stopped and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her.


    "You''re losing your calm, and it''s scaring everyone," she whispered to him, holding both his arms.


    "That''s because I''m scared," he said defiantly. "You and I both know what happened. Timothy happened. He wanted us out of the castle, and now there''s a sudden conference."


    "I''m scared, too," she said. "But that''s not a luxury you can afford. It''s not fair, but what you feel is amplified to everyone around you. When you''re scared, you scare everyone else. You''ve got to be vigilant. You cannot fall into fear or despair. We need you to inspire us, especially in the frightful times."


    Raf didn''t react immediately, only a few blinks. Finally, he nodded and closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths, and Morgan felt more at peace- though not entirely.


    "That was good. That worked. What were you thinking?" she asked.


    "I kept thinking, ''we''ll get through this.'' You and me. We''ll get through this." He smiled sadly. They squeezed each other''s hands and then ran for the great hall. By the time they arrived, a crowd had formed. Milo Meiori was sitting in their father''s chair.


    "Milo," Raf greeted, his voice betraying uncertainty. "Where is my father?"


    Milo Meiori stood, walked over to Raf, and looked him in the eyes. When he spoke, pain broke the lines of his face. "Your father is in a coma. He killed one of the Holy Father''s faithful, and Godfather Adam struck him down for the transgression."


    Morgan was stunned to numbness. Milo kept talking, but she couldn''t hear most of it. Words rang in her mind like the bells ringing in the courtyard. She wanted to sit down but couldn''t. It wasn''t safe to mourn publicly. They had to hold it together.


    Milo continued, "Since your father was charged with treason, I''ve stepped in as acting steward until the Holy Father affirms or negates the current line of succession."


    Rafael found his voice. "What? No. I am acting steward in the event my father is incapacitated. Not you. We will hold an investigation and get to the truth of this!"


    Meiori held his hands up in a show of peace. "I''m not your enemy. Do whatever you want, but ask yourself, do you want to steward the island right now," at this, Meiori hesitated. He looked tormented. "Or would you rather be... with your father?"


    The siblings exchanged glances, a silent conversation. Everything felt so wrong.


    "Fine," Raf said, finally. "You can manage things until Adam decides, but not alone. I will help you steward. You''re from Lona. I know Crescent. The people won''t respect you alone."


    Meiori hesitated and then nodded. "We can talk about that." Something about the way he said it bothered Morgan. A sad and uncomfortable silence followed.


    "Where is our father?" she asked plainly. Meiori appeared at once relieved and grief-stricken.


    "He''s been moved to his bedroom in the high tower. I don''t know if he''ll wake up. I was in the room when he killed Timothy. If Arthur does wake up, I have to arrest him for murder. Either way, it might be best to¡­ say your goodbyes."


    That was ominous, Morgan thought. Or was it Raf? Her hand instinctively reached for her sword, and she knew without looking, Raf was doing the same thing. She looked around. No one was armed except for the guards, eight of them stationed around the great hall. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but Morgan inspected each guard carefully.


    "To-to your father, I mean," Meiori stammered. "I am so sorry. Please, say goodbye to your father."


    "This conversation will be continued," Raf said. "Soon." He turned and left the great hall. Morgan followed. As they passed the guards, she watched them with a newfound suspicion and paranoia. People she''d known for years. How sudden she was to fear betrayal.


    But her fears bore no fruit. They reached the high tower only assaulted by pitying glances and frightened cries. People looked terrified, like the end was near. It wasn''t Raf this time; he looked determined, his breaths slow and deep. The collective terror of Adam''s wrath was too strong to be overcome by breathing exercises. Two guards were stationed outside Steward Avalyn''s door, Limu and Sifu, men they knew and trained alongside. They opened the door, and the siblings walked through.


    Their father''s bedroom was rustic and spacious, with a balcony overlooking the island and ocean. They closed the door behind them and were alone, the three of them. Arthur was lying in bed. Morgan and Raf hurried to his side and found him sweating. Morgan touched his forehead but found no fever. Arthur twitched. He grimaced, but he did not wake.


    "He''s in pain," Raf observed. "This isn''t a coma. Something happened to him."


    "Milo said, ''Adam struck him down.'' Whatever that means."


    "I suppose I''ll ask him when I talk to him next. What the hell is he doing?"


    "It looks like a hostile takeover. He said Dad killed Timothy and then was incapacitated. No evidence. Only Milo''s testimony backs it up."


    "You don''t think Dad killed Timothy?" Raf asked her. She shrugged.


    "I wouldn''t put it past him, but I think we have more pressing concerns. Milo said Timothy charged Dad with treason. That means Adam probably knows. And this," she pointed at their father, "is probably a preview of what''s coming for us if we don''t get out of here fast."


    "Wait, what. You want to leave him? Leave Crescent to Milo Meiori, and run?" Raf looked so young and bewildered. Morgan put her hands on his face.


    "I don''t know what''s happened to Dad, but I can''t help him, and we''re in danger. We need. To go. Now. We''ll make for the crystal caverns. We''ll catch up with Rowan and Lyn, and we''ll figure it out. If we''re here when Adam arrives, he''ll kill us both."


    "What do you think he''ll do if we''re not here when he arrives?" The question silenced her. Raf turned to look at his father. "You should go. Adam probably won''t sink the island if it''s you that gets away. I need to stay and face the music."


    She was speechless. Every rational bone in her body wanted to run as fast as she could, but she kept wondering what Adam would do to her brother if she ran. She could not imagine leaving Raf to face Adam alone. After a moment of silence, she stepped by his side and squeezed his hand.


    "I go where you go," she said to him. He choked up and cleared his throat, trying to look resolute, very nearly succeeding.


    Suddenly Arthur began to convulse and grunt and finally sigh. His eyes opened. He slowly sat up in bed.


    "Are you okay?" Morgan asked, sitting on the bed. "What happened?"


    Arthur ignored her and ran his hands along his body as if discovering it for the first time. A slow smile crept across his face. Arthur looked up at Raf. There was something sinister behind his smile. Arthur turned from his children and stood up on the other side of the bed. He walked naked to the balcony. Raf and Morgan exchanged confused glances. Raf followed his father nervously. So did Morgan.


    "Dad? What''s wrong? What happened with Timothy?" Raf grabbed his father by the shoulders, holding Arthur and forcing him to look at Raf. Morgan hung back, observing.


    Arthur''s smile grew more sinister. Suddenly, he grabbed Raf by the throat and forced him to the balcony''s edge. Raf struggled but was too stunned and confused to offer much resistance, and Arthur had his hand on Rafael''s sword. Morgan rushed toward them too late. Arthur tossed Raf with ease far over the balcony to certain death.


    Morgan froze mid-stride, watching helplessly as her brother disappeared behind the ledge, reaching in vain for her. She couldn''t move. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of her. Even inhaling felt strange and unnatural. Her sword arm hung limply at her side, but across from her, grinning, holding Rafael''s sword, was Arthur Avalyn.


    Arthur signed and stretched his neck and shoulders. "Ahh," he said slowly, testing his voice. "Is that all it takes to break you? Do you give up? Shall I kill you now, too?" He taunted her.


    "You''re not my father. What are you? What do you want?" She demanded, raising her sword. Arthur seemed to like that.


    "My name is Azazel. I''m one of the Fallen."


    He paused for dramatic effect.


    Morgan''s heart dropped in her chest, and she nearly dropped her sword. Adam had summoned a demon from hell to possess her father and kill her family, and it was standing in front of her, wearing her father''s body like an outfit.


    "What do you want?" she repeated in a whisper. Arthur kept smiling.


    "I thought I wanted to spend eternity with my fellows, but you know what? Eternity will last. I like it here, and I think I''ll stick around." While he was speaking, Morgan was backing away toward the door.


    "Fine," she said, buying time. "You wanna stay on Eden, I can''t stop you. Any more than I could have stopped my father from his little rebellion. He made his decisions, and here we are. You''ve decided to stay. Fine. Now, how about you decide to let me go, huh? You do your thing, and I''ll just get out of your way."


    Arthur chucked. "There''s no sense bargaining. There''s nothing you can give me that I can''t simply take for myself."


    Morgan reached the door and tried to run, but the door wouldn''t open. She was trapped.


    "Oh no," Arthur taunted her. "There''s no escaping it."


    She turned around and brandished her sword. "I can fight it."


    "Good," Azazel said in Arthur''s gleeful voice. He raised Rafael''s sword.


    Arthur lunged, but Morgan parried it easily and knocked Arthur off balance. "It looks like you haven''t mastered my father''s body yet," she observed aloud. Arthur was taller than Timothy and more muscular. Their different bodies required different weight distribution and force behind movements. Azazel was still learning how to ride Arthur''s body. That gave Morgan one small advantage.


    As they both came to the same realization, Arthur''s smile became manic and frightful. He attacked Morgan ferociously, repeatedly. Azazel''s advantage was unholy brute strength, and it took everything Morgan had to deflect his blows. She tried to slide his sword away when she could, but every swing shook her body and battered her arms and shoulders. Arthur was backing Morgan into a corner. She saw an opening as he swung; she could strike and stab her father in the heart; instead, she rolled toward the balcony, barely regaining her footing in time to deflect another swing.


    Arthur was unrelenting. She could evade his attacks for only so long. With the doors locked and nowhere to go, falling back to the balcony, she saw her choices clearly: she could die one way, or another, or another, but no matter what she picked, this was the end. She made her choice.


    Arthur made one final swing, but it didn''t matter. Morgan let her sword catch the blow, dropped it, turned from Arthur, and ran to the edge of the balcony. Jumping off the railing, she closed her eyes and whispered, "I go where you go."


    Morgan felt the wind on her face, but she didn''t fall. Instead, she lurched toward the balcony again. Opening her eyes, she realized Azazel was holding her suspended in the air with magic. He slammed her to the ground so forcefully it knocked the breath out of her and slammed her head against the stone. She looked up through stars and fog to see her father''s face.


    "That''s very sweet," he taunted her. "But if you won''t play along, I''ll end this game myself." Morgan braced herself for a killing blow that didn''t come. Instead, Azazel lifted the sword Morgan dropped, pointed it at her father''s chest, and Morgan watched in horror as Arthur stabbed himself in the heart. As the light faded from Arthur''s eyes, a shadow appeared from behind his face. Arthur''s body fell to the ground, but the shadow figure stayed upright, looking down at Morgan. She screamed of panic and mourning and desperation and crawled back from it, but the shadow dove into Morgan''s chest.


    At first, everything was pain. Searing, blinding, white-hot pain, tearing her soul apart. It could have been seconds, hours, or days. Time had no meaning. Only pain.


    Then it stopped, and she heard a voice; in a menacing growl, it said, "Submit to me your body and soul, and I will ease your suffering."


    She didn''t know where she was. She couldn''t see, couldn''t move, and couldn''t scream. Terror engulfed her, but she couldn''t give in. "No!"


    The voice responded, "Let''s try that again."


    The pain returned. It cleared her mind of any thought but endless pain. She felt herself be ripped apart, torn to shreds, over and over and over again. Then it stopped again. The voice repeated, "Submit to me your body and soul, and I will ease your suffering."


    She could barely think. Her thoughts were heavy, slow, and consumed by fear. She would give anything to not feel the pain again, and she nearly gave everything.


    But Morgan Avalyn remembered herself. She remembered her training. Rowan had prepared her for mental attacks.


    Morgan imagined herself in a block of ice. Water is sacred magic, Rowan taught her. So long as Morgan focused her mind on the ice, the creature couldn''t break through. At least, that''s how it''s supposed to work.


    She could sense it outside the ice walls, confused, furious, and amused. It pounded and scratched at her mental walls. It still hurt, but the pain was bearable. But she could see it, shapeless, black thing that it was, but had no idea what it was. Finally, it stopped attacking the walls, paused for a moment, and then took the appearance of a beautiful young woman. Luxurious red curls cascaded down her bare shoulders and breasts. She wore a silken red dress that covered almost nothing.


    "I''m impressed," the woman said in a velvety voice. "You''re the first human I''ve met to mount a decent defense. Your father tried, but he was weak and distracted. I got inside, and he gave me everything. It was over in a matter of minutes."


    Azazel lifted a sharp green fingernail and delicately scratched on the ice, testing for weakness. But Morgan''s life and soul depended on her ability to focus, so she focused down to the molecular level, concentrating on the interlocking geometric shapes.


    "Eventually, your walls will crack, too. And when I get in, I''ll tear your soul apart slowly. There will be nothing left of you when I ask again. Your mind will be shattered. Unless you submit now."


    "You''ll tear me apart no matter what I do," Morgan answered.


    "You''ve got it all wrong, baby. You''re going to marry Steward Meiori. And together, you''ll rule Vulpex. All five islands- Well, four islands. I''ll make you a deal: submit your body to me, and I will leave your soul intact when I choose another host. Continue to resist, and you''ll end up like your father."


    The memory of him being impaled struck her, and she almost broke down. Azazel sensed an opening and changed shape. No longer did it resemble a beautiful, buxom red-head, but instead the still corpse of her father, sword through his chest. His face didn''t move. His eyes stared out into nothing, but his lips spoke in her father''s voice.


    "He''ll eat your soul if you don''t give in," her father''s body said.


    Morgan cried out. She tried to close her eyes, but it was all in her mind. Azazel took this moment of weakness and lashed out at the ice, abandoning her father''s form and returning to its shapeless, black miasma of hatefulness. Claws dug into her walls, and she felt each swipe like a dull ache or a painful memory. Her barrier almost broke down, but fear of what it would do to her helped Morgan focus. Her life and soul depended on it.


    Finally, Azazel stopped its assault and returned to its beautiful redhead appearance, looking irritated.


    "You really should rethink this because I have news for you; you''re not the only eligible Avalyn girl. Adam wants you alive and married to Meiori, but if you''re going to be a little bitch about it, I can just possess Lyn and make her do it. How does that sound? You want your eight-year-old sister to marry a man in his late fifties? I''m sure Meiori won''t mind."


    "You''re lying! Milo would never do that," Morgan shouted.


    "Who do you think told Adam about your father''s plot?"


    Morgan was stunned. Azazel flashed a wicked grin. "Of course. When Meiori heard that Rafael was being considered for the Vulpen stewardship, he accused your father of heresy. Adam sent me to find proof, and your father, idiot that he was, provided it. Now both he and Rafael are dead. Meiori will be Steward of Vulpex, and you will be his trophy wife. Adam rewards loyalty¡­ and severely punishes treason. You should be grateful to be alive at all."


    Morgan couldn''t respond. She was overwhelmed, with nothing to do about it but focus on her barriers, the only thing keeping the monster out. It seemed to relish her despair.


    "That''s right. Your friend betrayed you. Your father is dead. Brother, dead. And if I can''t make you useful, I''ll possess someone else, kill you, and see if Lyn is a little more pliable."


    Morgan wished that she could cry. Trapped in her mind, she couldn''t feel the catharsis of fear and pain that tears bring. She keened and concentrated ever more, resisting.


    "Lyn is safe. You''ll never find her," she said, and then repeated several times like a mantra. "Lyn is safe. You''ll never find her."


    "Wrong again, my dear. I know exactly where Lyn and Rowan are. Yes, I know all about Rowan. Like I said, your father gave me everything. Adam already sent a missionary to collect them. Rowan will be killed, but I could be convinced to let your sister go. After all, what''s one deaf girl going to do without a family?"


    Panic erupted in Morgan. Rowan and Lyn were in danger. With her father and brother dead, no one would save them.


    Azazel sensed her dread and smiled. "Come now. I''m a reasonable man. Surely, you and I can come to a fair understanding. One where your sister survives."


    Morgan wanted to give up. She had lost so much already. But something shifted. Morgan felt a familiar presence. She felt Rowan''s mind.


    There was a moment of chaos and violence as Azazel sensed the new mind present. It attacked Rowan immediately. Morgan felt Rowan''s pain and surprise, and then obsidian stone walls surrounded her in defense. Rowan and Morgan couldn''t communicate with each other while they both had barriers up, but Azazel could speak to both.


    So worried and exhausted was Morgan that she struggled to maintain focus on the endless geometric patterns forming her ice defense. Azazel, meanwhile, was silent. Morgan watched it in shadows, circling Rowan''s reflective black barrier.


    Rowan''s mental defenses were more sophisticated than Morgan''s. Morgan''s ice defense was imperfect, rigid, uneven, and inflexible. She could neither hear nor see them clearly because her ice distorted the image. So she waited. Her anxiety and fear continued to grow but also hope. Maybe together, they could overpower Azazel. But then Morgan realized that Rowan must be nearby to join their minds. That meant Azazel could possess Rowan''s body. Rowan was in immediate danger, and that fact informed Morgan''s decision.


    "Azazel," she thought. "Let''s negotiate."


    Azazel returned in an instant in its buxom redhead outfit.


    "I''m listening," it said with a sinister smile.


    "Let Rowan go. Don''t hurt them or Lyn or bring them to harm, and I''ll give you my body."


    The monster frowned. It appeared to be considering. Then it smiled again. "Deal."

 Chapter 12 - August & Oliver - Happily Ever After - Caught in the Snare

    July 2009 - August & Oliver


    "Well, I loved it. Engaging. Scary. Well done," Dani said. Then she sat back and looked at me strangely. Something was on her mind.


    "What''s up?" I asked. "You''re sad about something."


    She tried to hide it, smiling. "I''m the therapist, remember? But there is something we have to talk about. You turn 21 next month, and you will age out of the program. You''re not being kicked out, but we have to make space for the next kid. You understand."


    "Yeah. I hadn''t forgotten. I know the deal. I''ll get back the rent I paid. That''s over two thousand now, right? Enough to find a place to rent. And once I''m 21, I can work at a nightclub, and I''ll make much better money."


    Dani smirked. "I don''t doubt it. And if you need help, you can call us. We''ll still be here for you."


    "But not you, specifically, right?"


    Dani winced. "Right. I''m sorry it has to be this way. Part of my job is letting you go."


    I nodded and looked around the room. My vision was blurring, but I was trying to memorize everything. The four desks cramped together. Stacks of folders of kids who needed help. The fan motor yelled down the halls. The walls were sunken in some places. Overhead, fluorescent lights and old white rectangles with mystery spots covered the ceiling. There were no computers. Dani brought her home laptop to work. When we met. Because I was her job. Not her friend.


    The carpet was orange and threadbare.


    "I understand. I know why it has to be this way. I''m just gonna miss you," my voice broke.


    Dani leaned forward and held my hand. "I''m going to miss you, too."


    She said some platitudes to try and comfort me, but she was comforting herself.


    When she finished, she asked me about Jude. It was our first meeting since his arrival.


    "He''s¡­ different? He''s the same, but he doesn''t act the same. When we were little, he used to make fun of me because I had no friends. And it hurt because it was true. He could make friends anywhere. We moved so many times, and it was always the same. He made friends right away. I made enemies. Bullies, mostly. I was this fae, weird kid. Somehow, the other kids knew what I was before I did. My family moved almost every year. New schools. New kids. But they always knew. So I learned how to deal with them.


    "There was this kid once. A scrawny punk. He bullied Jude, called him names. ''Blueberry,'' because Jude is husky and wore a blue sweater.


    "Anyway, when I noticed it happening, I asked Jude if it bothered him. He said it did. So the next day, as we got off the bus, the kid picked on Jude again, and I told him, ''That''s enough. Leave him alone.'' Of course, he beat his chest and insulted me. I just walked away.


    "There''s two ways to handle guys like that: ignore them or punch them in the face. Sometimes, ignoring them works. They get bored. That day, I ignored him because I didn''t give a damn what he said about me.


    "The following day, when we got off the bus, that putz fucked with my little brother one too many times, and I busted his face open. He was so surprised, this massive gash under his eye and blood running down his face.


    "Turns out he''d studied karate for several years, so he smartly bound my arms with my backpack and punched the back of my head a couple times before the bus driver pulled him off me and called 911. When the cop arrived and got the full story, he almost gave me a pat on the back. My mom gave me extra dessert that night.


    "I''m not a violent person. Teachers all knew me as a gentle book nerd, and the punk had a reputation as a delinquent fucktard, so I got 3 days detention. He almost got expelled and kept a wide distance from then on.


    "A similar thing happened at a different school in another state. My class was in a stage auditorium, and some dumbfuck had the bad idea to say something disparaging about my sister. So I waited until he was a good 20 meters away, sprinted at him, jumped off a chair, and drop-kicked him square in the chest. And no one fucked with me at that school ever again.


    "Sorry, I got off topic. Jude. Jude is nothing like that. He''s like a mouse. I''ve never seen him violent. It''s just not in him. He doesn''t get angry. He just sort of shrinks from conflict. He''s a gentle, friendly, funny person. And he comes alive when you look at him. He loves being around people.


    "But at the Hippodrome, he was shy and anxious. He''s quieter now. The other night, we were talking about Morgan, and all of a sudden, he shut down and shut me out. Something''s going on with him, but he won''t talk to me about it."


    "Don''t put too much pressure on yourself. Jude isn''t your responsibility."


    "He is, though. He''s my little brother. He''s all I have left."


    Dani thought for a moment. "What if you moved in together? With your cashback, you could pay the first month and deposit on a place. Jude could find a job and pitch in by the following month."


    "Yeah. I think that could work. I''ll bring it up tonight when I meet him."


    "What are you up to tonight?" Dani asked.


    "Alex, Deon, Faerie, and I are going to a board game store. Jude is supposed to meet us there. But first, me and the urchins are gonna meet up for dinner."


    Thai House Express, a family owned business on Castro Street. The portions were large and affordable. We ate family-style dishes of tom kha soup and appetizers of fried minced chicken, potatoes, and carrots, with a cucumber salad. For the entrees, we ate larb, crab pad thai, and a crispy pork belly on rice.


    I got a Thai iced tea with coconut milk. Alex opened a bottle of wine for the table. The server kindly forgot to ID any of us. Once we were all toasted, the conversation picked up.


    "What''s y''all''s Hogwarts house?" Deon asked everyone at the table.


    Half-Blood Prince was about to release in theaters, and at the time, Harry Potter was a cultural touchstone.


    "Ravenclaw," answered Alex immediately.


    "Okay, no surprise there," Deon rejoined and looked at me pointedly.


    "Hufflepuff," I confessed to a shocked audience.


    "I figured you for a fellow Ravenclaw," said Alex.


    "No way. You''re both wrong," Deon demanded. "He''s clearly a Gryffindor. How are you a Hufflepuff?"


    "I''m miscellaneous and very good at finding things," I said to drunken laughter. "What about you?"


    "Slytherin," Deon preened. Alex looked mortified. "I love the dark, everything dark, and those flowy black robes? I wannem."


    "But they''re so bad!" I said.


    "No, they''re not! They''re ambitious. They want power. I relate to that. How ''bout you, Faerie?"


    "Harry Potter is overrated," she said with contempt.


    "Why you such a hater?" I ragged.


    "I''m not a hater! You just don''t get it. Maybe you never will. Maybe it was unfair of me to ever think you could. How could you understand how I feel? But is it so much to ask you to respect that I don''t like it?"


    I felt thoroughly chastised, and the three of us meekly answered no.


    Faerie seemed at once satisfied and remorseful. "Thank you. I was the last person you invited, and you should have warned me Nathan was going to be there. I feel like an afterthought with you guys, and it sucks."


    "I''m sorry, Faerie," I said.


    "Me too," Deon said. "This is bringin'' up- I been thinkin'' I''ll go home to South Carolina soon since I''m about to age out of the program."


    "Me too," I said. "Not the South Carolina part. Why do you wanna go back there? That''s like the Southiest state there is. It''s got South in the name. That''s like peak racism."


    "Yeah, but at least in the South, people are obvious about it, ya know? Like, there are streets I know not to go down, but I know where to avoid. Here, folks is just as racist, but they be everywhere hidin'' in plain sight. And there''s like no Black people here! They all got pushed out or pushed down. I feel what Faerie''s sayin'', ''cause I need my people. Much as I love y''all, I am drowning in caucasity."


    Deon finished and drank his Thai iced tea with an expression at once sympathetic and daring.


    Faerie said, "Right. I need to find my people."


    After a pause, Alex chimed in, "I''ll probably go back to New York when I age out. I miss my horse."


    The pause outlasted itself.


    "So I suppose this is the end of the urchins, then?" I asked rhetorically.


    "Not so fast!" Deon cut the gloom. "We''re not dead yet, and there''s still Totally Awesome! to go to. I wanna stay in touch with each one a you. Friends like y''all aren''t easy to find, and I don'' wanna lose any a you."


    Faerie and Deon paid the tab. Alex and I split the tip. Then we walked to the underground and took a train to West Portal, where the board game store, Totally Awesome! was located.


    It was in a quaint commercial area with single-story brick buildings and large glass windows. Totally Awesome! was in a spacious rectangular shop with creaky wood floors and geeky images covering every wall. Giant comic book pages had been blown up to cover every bare surface. Magazine covers and stickers covered the bookshelves, which had boxes and boxes of board games I''d never seen before. There were entire genres I didn''t know existed. Gaming tables were organized in the back of the room. "True Affection" by The Blow was playing overhead.


    The other urchins and I wandered the aisles looking at board games. There were playable copies of almost every game in the store and perhaps two dozen people playing one game or another.


    I asked Alex where to find the store owner, and he pointed at a well-built man with black hair. He was bent down, teaching someone to play a game. I walked up to introduce myself when I recognized him as Dante, one of my first one-night stands, handsome as ever, with a simple button shirt and slacks.


    He looked up to see me and took a second to remember me.


    "Hey! Uh... Bastian, wasn''t it?" Dante stood to greet me.


    I wanted to turn and run, but I faked enthusiasm and shook his hand. "Yeah, hi. This is your store? It''s amazing."


    Dante grinned. "Thanks, yeah, it is. How''s it going?"


    "Great. My friends brought me here," I indicated toward the other urchins, whispering among themselves. "I just came to say thanks for hosting this. I''ll leave you to it." I turned to leave, but Dante touched my wrist invitingly.


    "Wait," he said. "I''m teaching my friend here to play Magic: the Gathering. Wanna play? You can use one of my decks."


    "I don''t know how to play," I said, hoping he''d leave it at that.


    "That''s great! It''ll be a fair learning game. C''mon, take a seat."


    Reluctantly, I took a seat. Dante handed me a deck and explained the rules. I don''t like being explained things when I haven''t asked for an explanation. I resented Dante for ghosting me a year ago, and now he was explaining things to me.


    But I swallowed my irritation and listened to the rules. It turned out to be a lot of fun. I came back every week to play games and meet new people. Totally Awesome! would become my new hang-out spot.


    Jude didn''t show up that night. I called him to ask what had happened. He said he made a friend in the Tenderloin and decided to stay with them. At the time, I was just glad he made a friend and didn''t think much of it.


    The other urchins and I stayed until the store closed. On the way home, I got a text message from August inviting me to a drag show. Faerie didn''t like drag so I didn''t mention it to the others. They got off the train at Church station, and I kept going to Van Ness station, walking the rest of the way to Truck, a seedy dive bar in the SOMA.


    Truck was a single rectangular room with dark red lights and erotic images covering the walls. "I Can''t Decide" by Scissor Sisters was playing over the speakers. Three nearly naked men were dancing on the stage.


    I found August ordering a drink at the bar.


    "Make it two," I told the bartender, bumping my shoulder into August.


    "Hey, you came!" he said and embraced me.


    "Of course. I thought you were performing. Why aren''t you in face?"


    "No. We''re here to support Oliver. This is his first time performing at a venue."


    "Oh," I wasn''t sure how to feel or respond. I didn''t want to be bitter. "You two hit it off the other night. Congrats on your dibs kiss."


    "Yeah, he''s great. But listen, Oliver and I talked about it, and if you''re cool with it, we can all share. I mean, we''re adult men. It''s not like you and I haven''t fucked already, so what''s one more?"


    For some reason, that possibility had never occurred to me. August was my best friend. We had dated, and there was love between us but not romantic love. Our love was platonic and often competitive. This was uncharted terrain for us, and it took me a second to consider.


    "Yeah," I said triumphantly. "Why the Hell not? Sounds fun."


    Oliver was still backstage, so August and I found seats near the front of the stage and drank our whiskey gingers, flirting, daring each other with glances and threats.


    The lights and music changed. The hostess with the mostest, Suppositori Spelling, came onstage and welcomed everyone, explaining the rules and theme of the night and introducing the first queen, Diana Fire.


    August nudged me in the rib, whispering, "That''s Oliver."


    "La Grippe" by Squirrel Nut Zippers came on, and Oliver/Diana Fire stepped onstage, dressed as a plague doctor. She had a black top hat, a creepy bird mask, and a full-length leather coat that covered everything.


    Her arms and legs moved in a disturbing rhythm with the song, swaying and then stopping. When the words began, Di opened a latch on her mask, revealing her lips, which synched perfectly to the lyrics.


    At the end of each verse, she removed an article of clothing; first the gloves, then the coat, revealing a sexy nurse outfit; finally, the hat and mask came off, revealing a green wig and Joker make-up from the Dark Knight.


    Diana Fire spent the rest of the song dancing eerily and collecting money from adoring fans, myself included.


    When the show ended, Oliver came directly to us and kissed us both. We stayed for a bit, drinking and flirting, before walking to Windemere.


    It wasn''t my first threesome, but it was the best. Oliver was a bottomless bottom, so August and I took turns, and we got real inventive with it.


    We stayed the night and then over the weekend, watching TV, ordering pizza, and having sex. We all got to know each other and quickly became an item.


    August and Oliver were both in the drag scene and more outgoing than I. They brought me out to introduce me to their acquaintances and show me off. I was the quiet place they hid their secrets, and they were my adventures in the real world. They complemented each other in crowds, dancing among people, and I was their anchor. August was the steady pragmatist. Oliver was the social butterfly. I was the dreamer. Somehow, it worked.


    August 2009 - Happily Ever After


    For my 21st birthday, Jude and I moved into a one-bedroom apartment in the Bayview district. I paid the first month''s rent and deposit. Jude assured me he would get a job and chip in by September. I gave Jude the bedroom and took the living room for myself, hanging sheets for privacy.


    The following day, August and Oliver took me on a road trip. I''d always wanted a pet, and it had been impossible living in the Perramont. But for the first time in my life, I got to decide, and I wanted a ferret. The boys picked me up and drove me to Nevada. Ferrets are illegal to buy, sell, or own in California, so we had to sneak Loki in a box across the state line.


    That was what I named him. Loki. He was the most wonderful animal. He had a cage, but I rarely confined him to it. I don''t like caging animals in general, so he got to run around the house most of the time. Loki crawled into bed with me most nights. Whenever I took a shower he would come running, because he loved to play in the water. I bought him all sorts of toys and things to climb on. Loki was an incredibly healing influence on me. He loved me. I could tell. And that simple, trusting relationship helped me open my heart again.


    August and Oliver were wonderful. They supported me and believed in me. Oliver slept over most nights because he didn''t like his roommate, and he loved Loki. August was always dating someone new, but he never forgot to make time for us.


    I got a new job at a nightclub in SOMA called the Golden Cow. Bar support, but it was still good money. Not great, but good.


    And that was my life. Two boyfriends, college classes, a job at a nightclub, a pet ferret, and my little brother living in the room over. For a moment, I had a happy ending.


    I even finished my book.


    Happily Ever After.


    Chapter 12 - Caught in the Snare


    On a clear moonlit night, high in a castle tower overlooking a crescent-shaped island, Arthur Avalyn threw his son off a balcony to his death.


    As the air rushed around him for what seemed like eternity, and before his body collided with the rocky shore below, one thought filled Rafael Avalyn''s mind: the last time he would ever see his sister Morgan was the first time he''d ever seen her terrified.Stolen story; please report.


    But for some reason, by the grace of his guardian angel Sophia, Raf washed ashore, alive and unbroken.


    Presumed dead, Raf would save his sister and take revenge.


    But first, he needed to escape the beach. The tide came in at dawn, and the narrow track of sand he ran along would soon flood. If he couldn''t find higher ground by then, the undertow would likely sweep him back out into the endless blue.


    To his left was the ocean, creeping closer with every wave, and on his right, a massive tower of stone jutting out of the crashing sands like a beacon to wayward ships. Far above Raf, at the peak of the cliff, was his ancestral home, Castle Moondial, where his father had thrown him to his death and where a monster held his sister captive.


    The moon was full and bright, illuminating the narrow strip of shore Raf ran along. His clothes were soaked. The night winds off the ocean chilled him to the core, and his leg muscles burned in protest, but the tide was coming in, and Raf needed to find a way up and off the beach.


    Raf knew roughly where he was and what he was looking for. The upper outside beach was a popular spot for surfing and sunbathing during certain times of the year. His family had gone years ago, before Lyn was born, back when Raf''s mother was still alive.


    He was so young when she died. Raf could only remember brief images, the sound of her voice, certain smells. Raf knew Lyn wasn''t to blame for their mother''s death, but deep down, he had never forgiven her.


    Where was Lyn now, Raf wondered. With any luck, someplace far away and safe with Rowan.


    Morgan is the one possessed by a fallen, Raf reminded himself. She''s the one he needs to worry about.


    Though in truth, Raf had more immediate concerns.


    The sky was getting brighter, and the beach was already flooded. The ocean waves crashed against the cliff wall on his right, bringing the tide up to Raf''s knees. Soon, the waves would overtake him, and he''d be swept back out with the undertow. And still, he saw no way up from the beach.


    Had he misremembered coming all those years ago? Or was the beach simply longer than he ever knew?


    Raf was beginning to worry. He looked up to gauge his progress. The cliff ledge was noticeably shorter than earlier, but something else, too. Metal bars had been drilled into the cliff wall as if to hang some giant painting. They were too high for Raf to reach. If only he had a rope. He continued moving.


    The sun broke over the horizon to his left, setting the sky on fire with orange, red, pink, blue, and white clouds.


    His legs were sore from pushing against the current, and the waves now came up to his waist, so Raf leapt forward and swam, letting his arms and chest do the heavy work. His heart was pounding, and every breath was strained, but there had to be a way up, he told himself, though he was beginning to panic.


    In time a massive wave came in, throwing him sideways against the cliff wall. Raf''s skull knocked against stone, and he felt warm blood around his ear. The wave went back out, pulling Raf out with it. He wiggled to stand upright, feet barely reaching the ocean floor. He was out of time. One more big wave like that, and he''d be swept out to face the ocean''s mercy.


    He looked up and around for an escape. The metal bars were still too high to reach, and the stone was too smooth and wet to climb. But ahead! The path Raf remembered from long ago. It was barely visible in the distance, but so close!


    Raf launched himself with renewed vigor. His lungs and body ached, and his legs were in agony, yet he swam like his life depended on it.


    But it wasn''t enough. Soon another massive wave hit the coast, engulfing Raf, spinning him underwater, tucking him beneath the surface, and pulling him away from land. He held his breath and swam to the surface to see the distance he''d lost. His exit looked even farther than before.


    Raf was beginning to despair. He was so tired. He''d been running and swimming for hours. Morgan is in danger, he reminded himself, and his exit was close enough to see!


    "Hey! Up here!" Raf heard a shout. Someone with shining black hair waved from atop the cliff. "Come closer! I''ll throw you a chain!" They yelled.


    Raf tried to swim forward, but his arms were like jelly, so he flipped into a back float and waited for the next big wave. It didn''t take long before Raf was carried back toward land on a wave, but this might be his only chance. If he got pulled back out again, it would likely be even farther than last time.


    The wave crashed against the cliff wall, and Raf, along with it, slammed his shoulder. Before he could be swept back out, the person above leapt off the cliff and tossed two chains with both arms. One chain hooked onto a metal pipe in the cliff wall; the other splashed near Raf.


    "Grab the chain! Careful of the edge on that hook! And hold on!" his rescuer yelled, and Raf did as instructed.


    Suddenly, Raf''s chain pulled him up so quickly that his grip almost slipped. His rescuer twisted midair and tossed Raf over the ledge of the cliff. He hit the ground and rolled limply, too tired to shield his fall.


    His rescuer''s grappling hooks connected with the stone ledge, and soon they leapt up, landing neatly on both feet next to Raf.


    They looked a bit older than Raf, nearly Raf''s height, with wild unkempt hair and soft features. Their clothes were yellow seaskin cloth. Raf was still on the ground where he landed. He tried to pick himself up, but his body was spent.


    They knelt, swiftly reaching into a satchel on their thigh, pulling out a water canteen, and offered it to Raf, helping him drink.


    "Thank you for saving me," Raf said when he finally finished drinking.


    "Well, I couldn''t leave you out there to drown. Last few months, bodies have washed ashore, all weird, shriveled, but soggy-like. Hard to describe. I feared you was one of those. When I saw you flounder, I thought, ''maybe this time I can make a difference.''" They said all this while helping Raf walk over to sit at the base of a tree.


    Raf recalled the string of recent murders; a mysterious ''Raven'' creature kidnapping vagrants in a cloud of smoke, bodies exsanguinated and tossed into the ocean. Was this the person that found them washed ashore?


    "How terrible. I''m sorry you had to witness that," he said.


    They shrugged. "That''s life. I''m Hinata."


    "I''m- I''m Ryan," he lied. Rafael Avalyn was supposed to be dead. "You''re incredible with those grappling chains. You must be from the cliffs."


    "Born and raised," they answered. "My folks taught me how to swing before I could walk. Tss. You got an open wound on the side of your head. Let me clean that up." Hinata reached back into their satchel and pulled out a basic first aid kit and a musubi.


    "Here, eat this," they offered the musubi.


    Raf was famished. "Thank you."


    It was delicious: rice, cured fish, and vegetables wrapped in seaweed. While he ate, Hinata washed and treated his injury. Their hands were calloused and skillful. When Raf finished eating, they insisted he drink more water. They were so attentive, and Raf felt so safe in their care that before they even finished tending Raf''s wound, he fell asleep.


    Rafael Avalyn dreamed he was falling. His father watched from above. Raf reached for help, but he was underwater, and Arthur was holding him down. Raf struggled and panicked. Why, Dad, why?


    Then Raf breathed in and found himself in a dimly lit hallway he''d never seen before. Blue flame sconces lined the grey marble walls, engraved with detailed images, so many Raf didn''t know what to make of them. Signs of a great impending war. Looking at the engravings, Raf woke up in the dream. He looked around and knew somehow, this was someone else''s dream.


    "Come to me," rang a honeyed voice from down the hall.


    At the end was a single door carved with an image of two winged figures mating in a swirl of shadows.


    "Nope," Raf answered, turned, and walked away.


    He was falling again. This time the jagged rocks came closer and closer, but before Raf hit the ground, he woke up in the dream again, standing on the rocks and facing Sophia. Again he knew this was no longer his dream.


    Sophia was satisfied. How Raf knew this, he couldn''t say because the angel''s expression was inscrutable. Even in a dream, Raf struggled to see Sophia in detail, for the angel was so bright it felt like looking directly into the sun. He looked down as a sign of respect and an act of self-preservation.


    "Well fought," said the angel.


    Raf didn''t know what that meant, and so he said nothing.


    "The chainfisher has another part to play in this. You will need a grappling chain to reach the underground forest."


    "How do I find this forest?" he asked.


    "Go to the last peak on Crescent, and look for my signal. Go."


    Raf woke up in the evening sun. Hinata was in the distance, walking toward him, carrying something. In the golden daylight, Raf could see their features more clearly. They had strong, muscular arms, broad shoulders, and an easy smile. Their clothes were loosely fit, allowing for free range of movement but modest and practical. On their waist were several straps and utility belts, which connected to a central harness.


    He got up and waved. Hinata waved back, and for some reason, Raf''s stomach fluttered. Sophia called them ''the chainfisher,'' and said they had a part to play.


    What part? Raf wondered. Can I trust them? Either of them? They saved my life, he reasoned. So I have to trust them. What choice do I have? No one else can help me now.


    With his crisis of faith more or less settled, Raf decided to tell Hinata the truth and hoped they could keep a secret.


    Raf stood to greet them. His legs were still sore, and his shoulder hurt to move, but his head injury wasn''t too bad. At least he could stand, and his vision wasn''t impaired.


    Hinata ran the rest of the way, shouting excitedly, "You won''t believe what happened! While you were sleeping, an angel came to me! They said I was to help you get somewhere and-"


    "Sophia spoke to you?" Raf interrupted, stunned.


    "You know them!?" Hinata''s eyes widened. "Sophia¡­ Yeah, they told me you''d need my spare chain. I had to run home to pick up supplies and tell my parents not to worry."


    Raf pondered. Surely Sophia speaking to them meant Hinata could be trusted.


    "Is this the chain?" Raf pointed to the bag Hinata brought.


    "Mhm. I only have the one grappling harness and rig, so I suppose we''ll have to share while you practice."


    Raf looked in the bag and pulled out the chain. It was heavy and well-forged. Unlike Hinata''s chain, there weren''t any attachments or hooks. This was a simple chain.


    Suddenly the bag began to glow. The chain lit up a fiery red and moved with a life of its own, twisting and flattening into a thin layer, then rapidly snaking itself up Raf''s arm like a tattoo.


    His first reaction was one of shock and fear. He dropped the chain, shook his arm, and fell to the ground; yet the chain floated midair and continued its progression up Raf''s arm, across his back and shoulders, and then down his other arm; coiling like vines around a branch. As the last of the chain flew out of the bag onto Raf''s body, it spread down his back and around to his chest.


    It was heavy, like chainmail or a suit of armor, but it moved as he moved, as if it were alive and reacting.


    Sophia''s voice sang out, and the chain/tattoos on his arms and torso seemed to vibrate with sound.


    "This will shield you from damage and allow you to reach the peak more quickly. I will remain with you and guide your movements until your mission is complete."


    Hinata watched all this happen, too shocked to do anything but stare, mouth agape. A moment of dumb silence passed until Hinata finally found the words to ask, "Who are you? What mission?"


    Raf inhaled sharply. "My real name is Rafael Avalyn. A fallen killed my father, tried to kill me, and now possesses my sister. Sophia told me that the only way to stop the fallen and save my sister is to go to Oceania and learn soul magic. I don''t know what that is or how to get there, but according to Sophia, my first destination is the ''last peak on Crescent,'' whatever that means."


    Hinata looked conflicted. Yet pensively, they looked up toward Castle Moondial. "If that''s the first peak, the last peak must be on the other side of the island."


    Then they turned to Raf and said, "You lied to me, Ryan." There was ice and anger in the accusation.


    Raf felt a stab of panic. He looked down. "I''m sorry. I was scared and wasn''t sure whether to trust you." His eyes met Hinata''s. "I trust you now. I''m choosing to trust you. Please forgive me. I won''t lie to you again."


    They blinked in surprise and shrugged, "I guess. You''re not what I expected."


    "What did you expect?"


    Hinata hesitated but then didn''t hold back. "I figured stewarding families were shameless cowards. How else could they have surrendered?"


    Raf was aghast. "How could- Adam destroyed Inari and everyone on it! He would have done the same thing to all of us! My grandfather had no choice!"


    "Better to die free than live in servitude. He knelt and served Adam all the same."


    "That''s not true!" It was Raf''s turn to hesitate. How much should he tell them? "My family conspired with the last firefox to assassinate Adam. That''s why my father''s dead and why I''m supposed to be dead, too. You''re alive because my grandfather surrendered. We survived this long because my father pretended to serve."


    Hinata was taken aback. "I didn''t know that. I''m sorry. Like I said, you''re not what I expected."


    Raf cooled down. "It''s alright. Sorry for getting defensive. I never knew people thought those things about my family. I guess it hurt my pride."


    Hinata smiled, and their eyes sparkled. "You''re for real! This is wild! No, impossible! What even happened to that chain? Can I touch it?"


    Raf laughed, silently amazed that such a thing was still possible.


    "Sure." He pulled up his sleeve, revealing his new chain tattoo. It glowed a molten reddish gold. Sophia seemed to have compressed the metal in the chain down to a liquid form. It looked like it would burn at the touch, but it was warm, like a chain left out in the sun. The molten tattoo reacted to Hinata''s touch.


    Sophia minded the chains, Raf supposed, and the visual expression of Sophia''s mind was awesome. Magnificent, like solid fire.


    Hinata looked amazed but was playing it cool. They shot Raf a daring smirk. "Let''s see what it can do." They pulled out two grappling chains from a holster on their lower back.


    "Huh?" was all Raf could manage to respond.


    "Follow me. If I''m right, Sophia will make sure your throws connect."


    Hinata ran toward the ledge and then jumped off the cliff, throwing their grappling hook to the nearest pole, swinging to the next pole, and throwing their other grappling hook. Repeat. Repeat.


    Raf followed them to the edge of the cliff and hesitated. He''d never been afraid of heights before, but after being thrown to his death, looking at the beach from this high up sent his heart racing.


    "You''ll catch me, right, Sophia?" Raf asked. Silence. "Sophia?" Still no response. Raf felt embarrassed.


    "Come on," Hinata shouted, not far off in the distance, dangling elegantly from a chain. "This is how we''ll get to the last peak. Trust me, I can get us there."


    Raf''s heart fluttered again. He wanted to trust them. He had to trust them. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Raf leaned over the ledge. Immediately the chain flew from his arm, uncoiling itself and extending to latch onto a pole. Raf swung down and back up again, and then the chain behind him released, and he was freefalling again. He panicked and yelled, reaching with his other arm for Hinata. But the chain was alive and lifted his arm higher, aiming for another pole and firing out to grab onto it. Raf was swinging. He bumped and spun against the side of the cliff, but the chain held, and once he swung up, the chain released, and Raf extended his other arm forward. Repeat. Repeat.


    "I''m doing it!" Raf cheered.


    "I knew you could do it!" Hinata answered. "Follow me."


    They swung forward and up. Raf followed joyously.


    It felt like flying. They climbed higher and traveled far in a short time, but Raf was quickly exhausted. His arms were still sore from last night''s exertions, and his shoulder hurt terribly. He called out to Hinata, and they found a place to rest on a naturally formed shelf, wide enough to sit down.


    The outer coast of Crescent was mostly cliffs and hills. Legends say the island was the peak of an extinct underwater volcano. In the inner bay of the island was the crater, and Crescent made up the land surrounding that crater.


    They sat on the outer side cliff facing the ocean, far above the shore. With the sunset behind them, the sky was turning darker shades of blues and oranges.


    Raf was a little more confident with heights than before, but whenever he looked down, his body started a panic response, so he always looked up or forward.


    Hinata passed him some food: nuts and dried fruits, another musubi, and the water canteen. He had forgotten to eat before jumping off the cliff and was again famished. Once he was fed, he looked at Hinata.


    "You saved my life. You gave me a golden chain and showed me how to use it. You fed me twice. How can I ever repay you or thank you enough?"


    Hinata blushed and laughed nervously, looking away toward the horizon. "I dunno." They were pensive for a moment. "You really know a firefox?"


    Raf nodded. "The last."


    "I wanna meet them," they said reverently.


    Raf sighed. "I don''t know where they are now. Somewhere safe with my little sister Lyn is all I know. I''m sure our paths will cross again someday, but I can''t promise it."


    That almost seemed to satisfy Hinata, but not quite. "And you truly believe Adam can be killed?"


    "According to Rowan, if Adam were separated from the Blessings, he could be killed."


    Hinata leaned toward him, wide-eyed. "Rowan is the last firefox?"


    Raf nodded.


    "What are the Blessings?"


    "Five gems, the source of his power, embedded into Adam''s regalia. Remove those, and he''s still ageless but not immortal."


    "And you intend to steal them?" Hinata whispered breathlessly.


    The question terrified Raf beyond words. "Right now, I only care about saving my sister and banishing the fallen that killed my father... Then yes, Adam will suffer."


    Hinata smirked with satisfaction. "Alright. Keep your word, Rafael Avalyn. I''ll take that as payment for helping you."


    Then Hinata yawned and stood up. From their lower back satchel, they pulled out their hooks, resembling sharp question marks.


    "It''s about time to make camp. You can go on a bit farther, yeah?"


    Raf sighed. Carrying the chains on his body was a constant strain, and his muscles were already sore from heavy exertion. "Yeah, but not far. My shoulder hurts pretty bad."


    "Let''s see it," they said, and Raf pulled his sleeve up to the shoulder. The bruise was big and purple, spreading far down his arm and around his back. "Oof. That looks pretty bad." They gently poked certain places, inquiring as to the pain level. "I don''t think it''s broken, just banged up," they concluded. "Come on. I know a place up ahead where we can make camp. Try only using your one good arm to swing. Watch, like this."


    Hinata put one grappling hook away and jumped off the shelf, throwing the free hook to a pole, swinging, twisting midair to release the chain, and throwing it forward again. Somewhat less graceful, and it looked much more difficult but also doable. He took a deep, fearful breath and followed Hinata off the cliff. Raf was much less graceful, but Sophia guided his arm and the chain so he never fell.


    The camp spot was farther than Raf had hoped, but it was perfect. This shelf was much larger than before, lush with trees and bushes, and a firepit already built in the center of a tiny grove.


    Fireflies danced in the air. Lizards and insects scurried by as Hinata and Raf collected dried kindling to start a fire.


    Both Hinata and Raf were adept firestarters, and it wasn''t long before a roaring campfire was going. Raf helped Hinata set up some tarps to shield from the elements, and once that was done, the two of them promptly fell asleep.


    No visitors interrupted his slumber this time, which were a mix of nightmares of falling and drowning alongside dreams of soaring through the air with Hinata.


    When Raf woke, Hinata was absent. The fire was still going, so he figured they must be nearby.


    His muscles were agonizing. The chains were so heavy he struggled to sit up. He was getting stronger, but his body needed time to recover. Once he managed to stand, Raf looked around for Hinata.


    Looking over the ledge, he started to hyperventilate. Even after swinging one-handed, looking down at the beach from this high up still activated a physical trauma response. Raf collapsed to the ground, frustrated and confused. He thought he''d overcome this already. Why was he still scared?


    On his hands and knees, dizzy with fright, Raf looked over the side for Hinata. His vision was blurring, but he saw them below, swinging just above the water''s surface, throwing a chain into the ocean, hooking a fish with incredible aim and skill, and yanking it up quickly into a bag. Raf retreated to tend the fire.


    Hinata swung back up, landing nimbly on both feet and greeting Raf enthusiastically. "Good morning! I caught us some breakfast. Won''t take long to cook. Sit tight. I got this."


    They wandered the grove for a short while, collecting herbs and such, then returning to the fire to sit in front of a wide flat rock. Hinata set the herbs and fruits they''d collected on the rock off to the side. Then, from a sheath on the side of their boot, they pulled out a knife and set it on the rock. Finally, from a bag on their side, they pulled out a large silver fish with rainbow scales and set it in the middle.


    It was already dead, either from bleeding out of the hook-induced hole in its body or from lack of water, but it died recently, so Hinata swiftly thanked it for nourishing them, gutted, scaled, and sliced it.


    They squeezed some oily fruit over the fish and rubbed the oil from head to tail, flipped it over, and did it again, this time sprinkling on some tiny green leaves they stripped off a stem. A stick was shoved through the hook-hole, and the fish was set over a low flame until crispy brown and sizzling.


    While that cooked, Raf and Hinata got to know each other. Raf inquired about their family life. Hinata grew up in a cave on the inside of the cliffs, near the cavern village. Their parents weren''t thrilled with Hinata running off to the far corners of Crescent, but Hinata was old enough and capable enough to go anywhere they wanted. They had no siblings. Eight cousins.


    Meanwhile, Raf and Hinata ate a delicious, sweet, and healthy breakfast together. And Hinata got to know Raf better, too, inquiring as to his wounds and his upbringing.


    His injuries were healing slowly but steadily. Raf was used to the occasional bruise. Since the day he was old enough to hold a sword, Rowan trained him to be a deadly warrior. And not just in combat. Secretly, Rowan taught Raf and Morgan the fundamentals of mathematics, reading, writing, geography (local and global), wilderness survival, leadership, and critical thinking.


    After breakfast, they relaxed in the sun, chatting, joking, and laughing. Time flew by, and for a little while, Raf forgot his dire mission and gave himself permission to rest and be happy.


    Then Raf remembered his sister was suffering, and it destroyed any happiness he felt. By evening, Raf had rested enough, and it was time to continue to the last peak.


    His muscles were still sore. His shoulder ached. The wound on the side of his head itched as the skin healed. And his fear of heights still paralyzed him at the ledge. Raf tried to hide his fear from Hinata, but they intuited much of the truth and were gently supportive and encouraging.


    By sundown, Raf and Hinata reached the other side of the island.


    "That''s got to be the last peak," said Hinata, pointing upward while dangling in the air.


    A plume of dark grey smoke rose from behind the peak, barely distinguishable in the twilight of dusk. "And that must be Sophia''s signal," Raf thought aloud.


    "Race you there!" Hinata swung forward.


    Hinata knew the area better than Raf, but Raf wasn''t playing. He was determined, and that plume of smoke meant the next step on his journey to save Morgan. Nothing was going to get in the way. Up his sleeve, Raf had Sophia and her solid flame chain.


    With angelic strength, he catapulted himself over Hinata. Sophia''s chain shot into the cliff wall itself, guiding him around a bend, securing Raf''s fall, and then launching him forward again.


    Unlike Hinata, Sophia didn''t need poles to grapple onto. Sophia''s chain fluidly molded to the size and shape of any location required and released as rapidly. So it was no contest. Raf reached the source of the smoke long before Hinata.


    The smoke billowed out of a crack in the mountain. It was well-secluded and inaccessible for anyone without a grappling chain and a lot of determination. If not for the smoke, the opening would have been invisible from the ground below.


    Raf looked into the crevice and saw an underground forest, just as Sophia mentioned, except everything was on fire. Raf looked down in horror at the flaming cavern.


    "Sophia! Sophia, what do I do?" he begged for guidance as Hinata climbed up the ledge behind him.


    The chains vibrated with sound, and Sophia''s voice sang out. "Jump into the fire. There is little time. Chainfisher, you did well guiding Rafael to this threshold. Wait here, and when you see a sign, follow it."


    Raf turned to Hinata, and their eyes met his.


    "I want to go with Raf," Hinata pleaded.


    "You will not survive where Raf is going," answered Sophia. "Say goodbye now."


    Hinata looked devastated. Raf almost cried with them. Instead, he rushed forward to embrace them.


    "Thank you for saving me," whispered Raf.


    "Thank you for giving me hope again," Hinata whispered back. "Don''t die, and don''t forget me."


    "I won''t. I promise."


    They held each other for a moment longer, and as they separated, both thought they might share a first kiss, but Raf turned, ran, and leapt into the smoke.

 Chapter 13 - Firefox & the Shadow

    Chapter 13 - Firefox & the Shadow


    Hinata''s parents raised them to focus on the known and explored, so taking orders from an angel they couldn''t see, waiting for a sign they couldn''t expect, was, to say the least, discomforting.


    The waiting wasn''t an issue. Nor was the solitude.


    As a single child with 8 cousins, Hinata often preferred solitude. Shortly after Raf jumped down the smoking crevice, Hinata took out a piece of driftwood from one of their many satchels and deftly carved it into the shape of a lizard.


    Unease plagued Hinata. Something was wrong. How long were they supposed to wait? And what were they waiting for? And would they ever see Rafael again?


    But before Hinata could finish carving, they heard a bang from far below.


    There was a shed nestled in a grove at the foot of the ''last peak,'' where the ocean met rock and forest. A cloud of black smoke encircled the shed. Was this the sign? Hinata ran forward, keeping to the shadows.


    Hinata could hear nothing over the howling ocean wind, crashing against stone and whistling through leaves. Then Hinata saw it. The Raven. It was the size of a large man with a long black beak and covered in shimmering black feathers, but so far away, Hinata couldn''t make out more details than that. It leapt out of the smoke and dashed for the trees. Was it carrying something? Why was it running? Could it not fly?


    Hinata followed as best they could from a distance, grappling down several ledges, swinging when able. Flying above the Raven, Hinata saw a small blackbird. Perhaps a familiar?


    The Raven disappeared among the trees, but from their vantage far above, Hinata watched the blackbird dart to and fro, above and below the forest canopy, moving in the direction of Church.


    Then the truly unexpected happened.


    A swarm of flying devils descended on Hinata. Hideous grey creatures, the size of large monkeys, with bat-like wings and fangs that jut out in all directions. Hinata used the sharpened hooks of their chains to defend themself, slaying two of the monstrous devils, but there were too many.


    The swarm tackled Hinata to the ground. This was the end. Hinata shut their eyes and screamed for their short life, but the devils lifted Hinata into the air and carried them away.


    Once in the air, Hinata stopped screaming. They were too scared and surprised to be alive to do anything. Plus, Hinata worried the flying monsters might be inclined to drop Hinata if they antagonized any further. Considering they''d already killed two of the devils, it felt unwise to test luck further. Besides, it was soon apparent where the devils were taking them.


    The swarm descended to land on the beach by a shack, dropping Hinata on the sand. The Raven''s smoke had cleared, but the smell of sulfur lingered in the air.


    Two figures stood nearby.


    One was tall and male, dressed in black leather, with ashen skin. The devils spoke to the man in a series of grunts and whistling noises only he seemed to understand. He listened impassively while staring at Hinata as if they were the first human he''d ever seen. The man terrified Hinata. There was indifference in the humorous glint of his eyes, like a hurtful joke.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The second one was shorter, with copper-red hair, two pointy ears on top of their head, golden-brown skin, and sharp yellow eyes. They were dressed in flowing green cloth. Of course, Hinata knew who this must be right away.


    "You''re Rowan, the firefox Rafael mentioned," they said reverently.


    The firefox was visibly stunned. "What-How did you know Rafael?"


    "We met yesterday at the upper outside beach. He was caught in the Snare. I fished him out."


    Rowan sat suddenly. "He''s alive! Oh. Thank you. He''s alive."


    The dark-eyed man watched with silent curiosity.


    Rowan composed themself, rising to ask, "Where is Rafael now?"


    "He jumped down a smoking crevice at the peak up there. An angel named Sophia told him to go to Oceania and told me to wait for a sign. When I saw the Raven, I thought that was the sign, but now I''m here, so I''m wondering if Sophia meant for me to meet you."


    Rowan and the grey man were both at a loss for words, looking at one another and back at Hinata.


    The man spoke first, in a smoky voice, like he''d been breathing volcanic fumes all his life. "The Raven? What did you see?"


    Hinata feared the man but answered in honest detail everything they''d seen up to being abducted by his flying minions.


    He waited until Hinata was finished, then turned to Rowan, saying authoritatively, "Mother would want us to find Rafael."


    Rowan answered, eyes fixed in the distance, "Rafael seems to be guided by forces outside our influence, and there''s no guarantee we can catch up to where he''s going. But we know where Lyn is being taken, and if we don''t follow, the Raven will slowly kill her."


    "What does one deaf witch matter? We should secure the Holy Spirit and find transport to Garden."


    "Lyn is more than that. She''s¡­ she''s precious. She can help us."


    "We cannot jeopardize the mission to rescue your magical pet. If Adam learns about you and me, we lose the element of surprise."


    "We already lost it. No doubt it was Adam who sent the Raven to kidnap Lyn. Isn''t that reason enough to retrieve her, to spite him?"


    That nearly convinced him. "Perhaps she is valuable, but it might as likely be a trap."


    Rowan frowned, eyes still fixed in the distance. "Then I''ll go in alone and disguised." Addressing Hinata, "You should return home. Thank you for sharing your story."


    The grey man spoke, "Wait. We should kill it, right? What if it tells someone?"


    Rowan turned in shock. "What?! No! They just helped us."


    He looked confused.


    Hinata was stunned, dumbfounded. Collapsing to their knees, Hinata whispered, "I won''t tell a soul, I swear."


    Rowan sauntered to the man and gently held his hands. "Adam is a tyrant. He created the forces that will tear him down. Be better than Adam, or you will create forces that tear you down, in kind."


    Rowan said this so sagely, so sensually, the man was affected.


    "Well¡­ okay. But you''re not going in alone. I sent a cainkin to scout ahead. It should meet us on the way. And you," he addressed Hinata, "Keep up, or I''ll have the cainkin carry you."


    Rowan tilted their head. "We can''t take them with us. They''re too young and where we''re going is dangerous."


    "It knows too much! If we leave it behind, Adam will find it, and then all three of us will wish I''d killed it. No. If it lives, it makes itself useful and stays where I can see it."


    Hinata''s breathing was erratic. They looked around, but the man''s flying minions surrounded them. Drool leaked from crooked fangs as the frightful creatures stared hungrily at Hinata. Hinata closed their eyes and tried to focus on breathing.


    Rowan''s voice broke the pause.


    "Fine, but understand they aren''t a slave or an ''it.'' They are a person. What is your name?"


    "Hinata," they said, opening their eyes to discover tears blurring their vision.


    "Hinata," said Rowan. "I''m Rowan. This is Samaal. Today is his first day on Eden. You''re the first human he''s met. Please be patient with him."


    Samaal scoffed.


    Rowan turned to face the distant Church. "Let''s go. We''ll camp near Church to plan our entry and break in under cover of darkness."

 Chapter 14 - Legion - Tandy

    Chapter 14 - Legion


    Sophia''s chain shot sideways into the cavern ceiling, so Raf fell in an arc. Then the chain released, and as he fell, it moved down to reattach itself and swung Raf out of the plume of smoke and away from the roaring flames.


    The acoustics in the cave reverberated every crackle of wood and scream of wildlife to a deafening echo. The fire must have started recently because it was spreading rapidly and almost engulfed the entire massive cave.


    Raf hit the ground and rolled near a stone-carved edifice, twice his height, the length of a hall, and wide enough to entomb several bodies. The flames hadn''t yet reached this corner of the cave, but they were encroaching, and the heat was overwhelming.


    Sophia''s chain whipped forward and slammed against the edifice, cracking it open and revealing a single tomb. Inside was a creature Raf had only seen illustrated in myths: a cthulian. It was gargantuan and crab-like. Raf could see two eyes the size of tree trunks.


    Sophia''s chain delicately floated behind and under the chulian''s head. Raf heard a crunching sound of chitin breaking amid the roar of the burning forest. When Sophia''s chain retracted, it was carrying something green resembling a long, dried sponge.


    "This is a cthulian''s symbiote," sang Sophia''s voice out of the chain. "Bonding with it is the only way for a human to reach the Time Dragon. Once done, it cannot be undone. It will stay with you ''til death."


    The cthulian''s symbiote was dropped in Raf''s hand. It felt like some dried-up dead thing found on a beach. It wasn''t heavy, but Raf sensed the weight of it all the same. That felt immense. What would it be like, he wondered, to bond with an oceanic creature? Would he still be human? Raf put those fears aside. Morgan needed him to do this. No matter the cost, Raf would pay it.


    "What do I do with it?" he asked.


    Sophia answered, "Dive underwater. Hold the symbiote to your ear."


    "Will it hurt?" he asked.


    No response.


    Raf looked around. Everything was on fire. The smoke burned his lungs. He tried breathing in through his sleeve. There! A shimmer of water. Raf ran to it, ducking under flaming branches, jumping over fallen logs, and diving into the strange lake without any hesitation.


    Raf held the symbiote to his ear as instructed. Between moments, he felt it swell with water and come alive.


    No warning could have prepared him for what came next. The symbiote found Raf''s ear and squeezed into it almost instantly, but not painlessly. Raf felt his ear canal burst. Worse yet, the symbiote spread through Raf''s sinuses and around to his other ear. Cartilage broke and was expelled out to make space for the symbiote.


    All the while, Raf was busy drowning. The agony of having his skull invaded caused Raf to scream in pain and then choke on water. As his lungs flooded, Raf writhed helplessly for a few seconds, too disoriented to swim to the surface, until he stopped moving entirely. His motionless body sank with the weight of metal chains.


    Sometime later, he seized and coughed and opened his eyes. He wasn''t breathing, not really. He touched his ears. Something was protruding out of both ears. Soft and velvety, it inflated and deflated like external lungs on the side of his head.


    But the mind-blowing parts were psychic. The cthulian''s symbiote functioned as a new sensory organ, combining scent and sound detection. Raf could now ''hear'' better and ''smell'' underwater. He smelled his blood all around him, alongside the scent of fish and insects; the sounds of fish and insects! Pushing and swimming and scraping and grinding and chewing and pooping.


    As for the pain, his entire head and face ached. Every beat of his heart brought fresh throbbing agony behind his face.


    Raf was too numb and amazed to do anything but smell his surroundings until a dozen voices boomed harmoniously in his mind.


    ''What have you done to us, human?''


    Raf would have fallen in shock if he were standing. He looked around in vain. Firelight from the cavern above illuminated the lake floor and all around him. It was dark, but he could see well enough to know the voices weren''t coming from outside him but inside his head.


    ''I¡­ I beg your forgiveness,'' Raf thought in response. "I was guided here by an angel. Sophia. To free my sister, I need to learn soul magic; to do that, I need to reach the Time Dragon.''


    ''Your human relations are of no concern to us. We are the Eighth Legion. Our minds have melded among the greatest of our species. You had no right to desecrate our host''s body.''


    "Former host," Sophia''s voice corrected. "Do not let your indignation blind you to your duties, both to your present host and to your people."


    Raf sensed the entity recoil in surprise and resentment. He felt its wrath and uncertainty. It was considering, though what, Raf could not imagine. Then the Eighth Legion reached out and invaded his mind, secret thoughts, and memories.


    That was... uncomfortable, to say the least. Not exactly pain. More like a tickle behind his eyes, or a cold chill, or the sensation of a limb falling asleep. He wiggled in vain to escape the intrusion, but he was trapped in his head with an alien multitude.


    In his mind''s eye, Raf saw flashes of memory, memories the Eighth Legion now shared: Playing hide and seek with his sisters in the garden. His mother in a green silken dress, reading a book. Rowan training him in combat. His father sitting at his desk beneath that gruesome painting of Adam, confessing to Raf a most terrifying secret.


    Suddenly the Eighth Legion scattered in surprise. This changes things, they whispered among themselves, radiating increased confidence and certainty.


    ''We will help you,'' Legion declared. ''But we cannot guarantee your safety. And when you die, we must be returned to our people for safekeeping. We will not tolerate being a human tool.''


    ''Understood,'' thought Raf. ''So¡­ which way to Oceania?''


    ''You''re in it. You entered the Kingdom of Oceania the moment you submerged. You probably mean the Queen''s Lair. First, you''ll need to exit the caverns. Follow the smell of fresh moving water.''


    Raf wondered what fresh moving water smelled like, then Legion reminded him. Memories between them went both ways! He could remember things Legion wanted to share; for example, fresh moving water smelled like determination; and it was coming from over there!


    The weight of the chains had already pulled Raf the lake floor. He walked forward, but his progress was excruciatingly slow. He tried a broad stroke, but his arms were still worn out. At this rate, Raf wouldn''t leave the cave system for days.


    Fortunately, Sophia was impatient, at least by angel standards, and took over movement. Suddenly, the chain tattoo launched him forward. The firelight from the cavern above quickly dimmed as Sophia pulled Raf downstream, darker and darker as they went deeper and deeper until he could see nothing in the darkness.


    But he wasn''t exactly blind. He ''heard'' the water rush by all around him, eroding smooth the caverns. He could ''sense'' the pressure build as he descended and ''taste'' the salt levels rise.


    As his eyes adjusted, Raf saw the chain was still glowing a fiery orange color, so he rolled up his sleeves and extended his arms, illuminating his surroundings. All around him, countless fish and crustaceans lived their lives. Strange, alien creatures Raf had never imagined.


    Raf tried to relax as Sophia carried him swiftly through the tunneling caves, though relaxation would prove impossible, as Legion was abuzz with mixed excitement, flipping through his memories the way a prodigious student flips through a study book.


    ''Have you ever bonded with a human before?'' Raf wondered.


    ''Never,'' Legion answered. ''Though it has happened, long ago with other symbiotes, we have never.''


    ''What is the relationship between symbiote and host?''


    ''We are the ghosts of every host who came before you. The symbiote collected our thoughts before we died and preserved them for future generations. It cares nothing for any of us, only its continued survival. Our kinds share a pact: we give them our minds and nutrients, and in return, they give us posterity.''


    ''Does every cthulian have a symbiote?''


    ''No. Only a rare few ever earn their symbiote.''


    ''And how does one earn a symbiote?''


    ''A series of trials, culminating in a visit to the sovereign of water and sky.''


    As Raf pondered what that meant, Sophia pulled him out from underground and into the open ocean. His trajectory curved and then launched forward. Evidently, Sophia knew their destination.


    ''So were you in that burning forest waiting for someone to be worthy of you?''


    ''Burning forest?'' Curious, Legion accessed Raf''s most recent memories and saw images of the mausoleum aflame. They wailed in horror. Raf caught glimpses of a tree nymph. Sprigga. Friend to the cthulians and ancient guardian of their honored dead. Dead. The great oak burnt to ash. He felt their grief.


    The other symbiotes! Would any of them survive the fire? The thought devastated Legion. Countless generations lost forever. He felt their despair.


    For a long time, Legion was silent. Even their perusal of Raf''s memories was lethargic and disaffected.


    Combined with the blanketing darkness of night, Raf was fading.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ''Sleep,'' advised Legion. ''We will keep watch while you rest.''


    And somehow, almost immediately, Raf shut his eyes and slept.


    Even in his dreams, he sensed the Eighth Legion and their contempt for his humanity. They loathed all mankind; that much was palpable. But bound as they were to Raf''s mind, they found him endlessly fascinating, even as their grief suffocated them. It suffocated Raf, too. His dreams were of such overwhelming sadness; it was like drowning all over again.


    His eyes opened to sunlight cascading down upon a gulf stream, populated with countless fish, whales, turtles, and more, all regarding Raf with varying degrees of curiosity and indifference. None had ever seen a human underwater before. Most had never seen a human at all anywhere. All were riding the swift current.


    And the whales and dolphins were singing!


    He wouldn''t have heard or understood any of it were it not for Legion, but through them, Raf knew the song was one of peace and adventure. The gulf stream was for all ocean life. The majesty around him was awesome.


    Legion''s many voices broke his reverie.


    ''We''ve traveled most of the way to the Queen''s Lair. Ahead is the chimney. Be ready. A human in Oceania will likely be met with claws and teeth.''


    Raf was about to ask what an underwater chimney was, but then he looked forward and saw an enormous waterfall! The fish and creatures ahead of him were falling, caught in a vortex. How was this possible? Raf wondered. Legion answered.


    ''Water is warmer and saltier above us than below. Those changes cause the ocean to move and cycle itself. The gulf stream is one of the ocean''s main arteries. Beneath the chimney is the Queen''s Lair.''


    All around him, sea creatures were singing and chirping excitedly. Raf was nervous, but the joyful mood around him was infectious.


    Raf reached out to touch a nearby whale. She regarded him curiously. Legion called a greeting that she returned. He felt her fin. It was smooth and leathery. Then he swam up (rather, Sophia understood his intention and guided him) to her shoulder and dorsal fin. She was warm and magnificent. Raf felt her heartbeat! No, several heartbeats! He congratulated the whale and thanked her, holding onto her dorsal fin to brace himself as they neared the waterfall. She sang out in delight as they fell. Raf''s stomach dropped, and that''s when he first noticed his hunger.


    But Raf wasn''t the only creature hungry in these waters. Not far below, but far enough to be shrouded in darkness, several cthulians watched the chimney and all who descended it.


    By nature, cthulians tend to be solitary and territorial. Older, larger cthulians generally ignore smaller ones, except as the occasional meal, supposing one were foolish enough to evoke their ire on an empty stomach.


    It was taboo for ocean predators to hunt in the gulf stream. Whales ensured such customs by deadly force. The gulf stream was for all ocean life, but when a lone human approached the Queen''s Lair, every cthulian with a spear rose to kill it, custom be damned.


    Raf saw them ascend: vibrant specks of color, beautiful and terrifying, swiftly rising out of the darkness.


    They varied in size. Some were smaller than Raf. One was large as a whale.


    Their upper torsos were vaguely humanoid with a torso, head, and shoulders. One arm was similar to the human''s, ending in three clawed fingers and a clawed thumb. The other arm resembled a giant crab pincer. Beneath and behind its arms, sprouting out its back was a single pair of long, sharp crab legs.


    Cthulian lower bodies resembled an octopus or squid, with four long powerful tentacles where legs would be.


    By Raf''s sensibilities, cthulian faces were nightmarish and uncanny (though they would describe human faces similarly). No neck, the jaw and mouth split down the middle, with a chitin shell covering both left and right ''lips.''


    Two stalks of compound eyes crown its head like horns, detecting lights and details no human eye would ever witness. They swiveled forward to hone in on their prey. Beneath the eye stalks, mustache-like antennae whipped this way and that, picking up trace scents from far away.


    One brash young raider flung his spear too soon. Their aim was not quite, and would have impaled Raf''s traveling whale companion, but Raf threw his arm and Sophia''s chain blasted out the back of his hand, reshaping into a shield, deflecting the spear. Then it returned to Raf''s skin, but something new happened. The fiery tattoo spread to cover his entire body like a glowing barrier. As it expanded, it also dimmed. The blaze of the chains became a radiant armor.


    Everyone scattered. The whales were incensed, screeching loudly. Raf leapt out of the vortex to take the fight away from the others. He was still falling, but not as fast.


    Angry cthulians surrounded him. They''d seen what just happened and were hesitant to engage. One brave or foolish cthulian thought to attack Raf from the back. Sophia disagreed.


    In an instant, Sophia''s tattoo blasted out a needle-sharp chain through Raf''s attacker''s head. For a moment, Raf''s wrist was exposed. The others took the opportunity to lunge and throw their spears.


    But Sophia outmatched them all combined. The tattoo extended two chains to the limit and spun in a circle surrounding Raf so fast none of their spears or claws could pass without shattering. While Sophia spun the chain around him, Raf''s mobility and versatility were diminished. He was in a defensive position, and that put him in a stalemate. Or so he thought. Indeed, Raf thought he had the advantage, but he underestimated cthulian size and ingenuity.


    Each of the cthulians squirted a jet black ink into the water. Soon Raf couldn''t see more than an arm''s length away from him.


    But Legion was equal to this tactic, ''hearing'' and ''smelling'' all around Raf for signs of attack. Whales were shrieking a counterattack beyond the rippling inky clouds.


    An enormous surge rose from the depths below. Raf could see nothing around him, but through Legion, he felt the sudden shifts in pressure, and he knew instinctively what was coming.


    Dread radiated from Legion''s many minds. ''Brace yourself!'' they warned.


    A giant hand, easily twice Raf''s size, with three sharp claws and a clawed thumb, reached up, grabbing Raf, chains and all, and yanked him down to the Queen''s Lair.


    Raf would have been crushed immediately were it not for Sophia''s chains, returning to his skin and pushing against the incredible force of the giant hand that held him.


    It pulled him down from the inky blackness above to an even more engulfing darkness below. The pressure was unfathomable. Sophia''s candle-like glow was all that illuminated the oppressive darkness surrounding him. Even by the soft glow of Sophia''s liquid firelight, Raf could see nothing.


    Two giant pillars like ancient trees came into focus, then twitched. They were eyes! Tall stalks of compound eyes with three distinct segments, top, bottom, and a flat line in the center. Raf couldn''t see the head they crowned, but long threads of antennae whipped below him, tapping Raf gently, smelling him, tasting him.


    Then a voice boomed from below. Legion knew the language, so Raf understood.


    "I sense a human bonded with a symbiote. How is this possible? I should tear off its head and give the symbiote to a worthy cthulian. Who are you?"


    How do I speak underwater? Raf wondered.


    ''You don''t,'' thought Legion''s many minds. Then they spoke, or rather, clicked, at the giant cthulian.


    "Your majesty. Our queen. We are the Eighth Legion. It is good to hear your voice again."


    "Ancestors! How have you become bonded to such a loathsome creature?"


    "It rescued our symbiote from a fire. Your majesty, we bring wretched tidings. Sprigga and the mausoleum were burned. The other symbiotes may have survived the fire, but we hesitate to hope."


    The water all around shifted, and Raf knew the queen had recoiled upon hearing the news. A dead cthulian floated down past Raf, possibly the same one Sophia impaled.


    A massive tentacle rose up and out of the dark nothing to wrap around the cthulian corpse. Then the tentacle returned to the nothingness below, dragging the corpse in tow. Raf heard a crunching sound and remembered he was hungry.


    When the queen spoke again, she sounded less irritated but supremely sad.


    "Indeed, these are wretched tidings. Who set the fire? Was it this human?"


    Her grip tightened, and Raf feared his bones would break, but Sophia''s barrier held.


    "It was not this human. We confirmed that at once. With your blessing, we wish to investigate this matter and devour the one responsible."


    "Granted."


    "There is more, your majesty. This human¡­ carries the Wandering Spirit."


    The twin pillars of eyes twitched. Her grip loosened.


    "Interesting. Why would the Wanderer choose a human vessel? Such is madness."


    "We believe it intends to strike against Adam. Perhaps the Wanderer chose this time and body with reasoning beyond our ken."


    The queen was silent for a moment. Then, "Only the Sovereign would know."


    "Indeed, that''s why the human has come: to beseech an audience with the Sovereign of Water and Sky."


    "How weird. Fine. But a worthy cthulian must accompany you. Symbiotes such as yourself are too precious to risk entrusting to a human, especially in light of your tidings. Tzik-Enu will collect the human''s head when it fails."


    Raf gulped while the queen called out. A large cthulian descended from out of the darkness. Raf recognized this one from the tussle above. Tzik-Enu was fully thrice Raf''s size, with a myriad of vibrant colors, barely distinguishable in the surrounding darkness.


    While the queen informed Tzik-Enu of the mission, Legion perked up, taking a pleased interest in the imposing cthulian. Raf felt strangely jealous.


    Then the queen released Raf, and the water around him shifted as she moved aside. Raf smelled something new, like fresh moving water, except entirely different, yet vaguely familiar. Legion was drawn towards the scent reverently.


    "You know the way," said the cthulian queen.


    And it seemed Legion did know the way; they guided Raf downward. Sophia gently glowed against the dark abyss, like candlelight on a moonless night, in vain, illuminating nothing but detritus floating in the water. Were it not for Legion''s many heightened senses, Raf would have been lost in the vast, crushing darkness.


    What Raf couldn''t see, yet knew instinctively with Legion''s aid, was that he had entered the trench, a wide canyon at the bottom of the ocean floor, crown seat of the Cthulian Dominion, and secret entrance to the Time Dragon''s Hollow.


    Raf sensed a massive opening in the ocean floor, wide enough to fit Castle Moondial with space to spare. He sank down, down, down the cavernous opening for a long time, long enough to feel stabbing pangs of hunger. Or was it thirst? It had been so long since he last ate or drank anything. Surely he would die from thirst, surrounded by water, he thought bitterly. At least Legion and Tzik-Enu will be happy together.


    ''Stop feeling sorry for yourself, or we''ll kill you and put us all out of your misery,'' Legion threatened. The embarrassed shock was enough to dissuade Raf from continued self-pitying.


    Eventually, the yawning cavern turned and bent in a U, and for the first time in a long time, Raf saw light drifting down from above. But how? He was well below the trench. No sunlight could reach this place.


    With Sophia''s assistance, Raf swam toward the light source. It was far in the distance, and the cavern bent again, but then he saw it, blinding light from an impossible pocket of air, deep below the ocean floor. He floated to the surface and broke it, entering a new alien world, the Time Dragon''s Hollow.


    October 2009 - Tandy


    You should probably skip my chapters from here on.


    You''ve got a happily ever after. Maybe it''s unsatisfying, but it''s good enough.


    And if you want a happy ending, you should take it while the getting is good, because this book doesn''t end at happily ever after. There is an untitled third act. You''re reading it. And it''s more like a letter. I''ll try to keep it brief.


    I''ve written you countless times, deleted nearly everything.


    There''s so much I wanted to tell you. I don''t know where to begin.


    I suppose I should begin with Tandy.


    To confess, I didn''t like Tandy very much at first. She was the reason Jude didn''t come to Totally Awesome! that first night and many nights after.


    Jude fell for her hard and fast. Being with her was all he cared about.


    Tandy had fiery red hair and a personality to match. She was a force; clever, resourceful, and determined. I admired that. More than anything, she wanted to be free. Her parents stifled her, she told me; that''s why she ran away to San Francisco.


    Keep in mind Tandy was a teenage girl on the streets. She didn''t want a sugar daddy or anyone who thought to control her. I think they fell in love because Tandy was always in control, and Jude was happy to be included.


    I didn''t like that. I wanted Jude to make decisions for himself, get a job, and help me pay rent. That didn''t happen.


    Instead, we lived in the Bayview apartment for two months. Neither Jude nor Tandy found work, and I couldn''t afford rent forever on my own, so we moved out.


    Oliver and I moved in together to a place in West Portal not far from Totally Awesome!


    Jude and Tandy went back to Lark Inn and then on the streets.


    At some point, they started using shit Jude promised me he would never use.

 Chapter 15 - Time Dragons Hollow

    Chapter 15 - Time Dragon''s Hollow


    The first thing Raf experienced was the symbiote retracting from his nose and throat. The ''lungs'' that grew out of his ears deflated and shrunk. Raf coughed and choked and threw up seawater until finally, painfully, he inhaled a ragged breath. Coming to his senses took a moment. When Raf could look up, he witnessed an impossible miracle.


    The cavern itself was several times larger than the whole of Crescent. Covering the walls were twinkling crystals of countless shapes and colors, stretching as far out as Raf could see and farther. A heavy golden mist hung in the air, obscuring much in the distance, but Raf could still make out two objects suspended in the cloudy haze.


    One was a blinding source of fiery light. He couldn''t make out any details. Like a tiny sun, it was too bright to behold.


    The other was a being so large not even the dense mist could conceal it. The Sovereign of Water and Sky. Time Dragon. Impossibly large and stunningly beautiful, a great serpent with iridescent white scales and four sets of dove-like wings. It wasn''t moving, falling, or gliding but seemed suspended between moments, frozen in time.


    The cthulian Tzik-Enu stepped into view and knelt reverently. For the first time, Raf could see her clearly. Tzik-Enu balanced on crab-like back legs while her whale-bone spear and massive pincer acted as front legs. Her tentacles were pulled up and forward, dangling in the air. Her chitinous shell was a rich purple, with stripes of turquoise along her legs and torso. Her eyestalks were dark pink.


    With Legion''s indulgence, Raf understood that Tzik-Enu might be queen one day. Meeting the Sovereign was the penultimate test on any prospective queen''s journey. Either the Sovereign would bestow upon her a blessing, or she would leave the Queen''s Lair and live a typical cthulian life of solitude in a territory she takes for herself.


    Then several things seemed to happen at once. A bright flash. A loud explosion. A great gust of wind knocked Raf off his feet. And instantly, the Sovereign appeared above them, gazing down behind emerald-green reptilian eyes. A long, sharp horn protruded from the tip of the time dragon''s nose, pointing at them menacingly.


    "Let''s take a closer look at you," mused the time dragon in a nerdy voice, and then the colossal being shrank in size until roughly the size of Tzik-Enu. From a closer perspective, the dragon examined both Raf and Tzik-Enu with a piercing, reptilian stare. Raf felt exposed, as if his every deed, past and future, were being laid out and inspected.


    The time dragon''s feathered wings were folded to lie on its back, sliding on its belly; serpentine, with scales so hard they ground the crystals and stones underneath to dust.


    "At last," said the time dragon. "And against the odds, you return to Soul Hollow, alive. Welcome back. You must be hungry and tired from your journey. Come."


    The winged serpent leapt in the air, spreading all eight feathered wings, and led them across a rocky, moss-covered landscape toward a forest of ferns. Raf and Tzik-Enu followed.


    "You have questions," said the time dragon, gliding elegantly in the air, back and forth, as if swimming.


    "Ha. Uh, yeah. I have questions."


    "Ask them."


    Raf was overwhelmed, bursting with questions, and didn''t know which to ask first or how to phrase them. He slipped and tumbled, but Sophia''s barrier shielded him from harm. Knowing that and feeling more confident, he stood and broke into a trot toward a bizarre frondy oasis ahead of them.


    "To start, I guess, what should I call you?"


    "I have no name, only titles. I''ve been dubbed the First of 8, Timekeeper, Gravity Dragon, Sovereign of Water and Sky... Origin of Death. Adam called me ''The Seducer.''


    "But I was never given a name, only titles and a purpose. Even you, when you were here, you called me ''Sibling.''"


    "How is that possible? The symbiote in my head said I carry the Wandering Spirit. My father called me the Holy Ghost. Now you say I''ve been here before, but I don''t remember or understand any of it."


    Sibling seemed to chuckle. "More titles, and you were given countless others: Eighth of Eight. Lifekeeper. Whispers. Soul Dragon. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "Before God left Eden to garden other planets, 8 ikons were borne from the primal forces around Eden. I was the first. You were the last. God entrusted us to shepherd life on Eden, but Adam murdered five ikons and stole their power.


    "The crown Adam wears is, in truth, a cage for the most powerful of us, with the power of a blazing sun and the body of an insect. Adam''s belt is lined with sphinx feathers. His sword was carved from the horn of the unicorn. His gauntlets were forged with the bones and shell of the twin ikons. She was a thunder giant. He was a cloud turtle.


    "Adam killed them, one by one, and used their body parts to ensnare their souls. Now only you, me, and the Edenwheel remain."


    "Who is the Edenwheel?"


    "You''ll see for yourself soon. We''re nearly arrived. First, eat."


    Sibling wrapped their tail around the trunk of a tree and used their sharp horn to cut a bulbous lump on the underside of one blade-like frond. A yellow, pearly ball of fruit fell to the ground, except it froze in the air mid-fall. Raf went over to it, and because it had been so long since he last ate, he wasted no time sniffing or inspecting it before sinking his teeth in. And he was glad he did. The mystery fruit was sweet and juicy, gushing in his mouth, yet firm and chewy.


    Sibling sliced open three more pods, which all fell to suspension midair.


    "How do you do that?" Raf asked in wonder, grabbing the nearest floating fruit, leaving the other two for Tzik-Enu; then followed Sibling as they glided toward a glowing lake not far in the distance.


    Sibling answered, "I control the relativity of everything in my vicinity. Time and gravity are the same, so for me, freezing an object in time and space is a simple task."


    "Can you send someone back in time?" Raf thought of his father and sister, dead and under possession. Could he save them before Azazel destroyed his family?


    "No. Time can''t be undone. It''s ever-expanding. Reversing time would require every branch and speck of the universe to go backward, breaking the laws of the universe, and collapsing time and space. Not even God can reverse the flow of time because God is time, the universe, and everything in it."


    The dragon''s answer confused and discouraged Raf. "Can you see the future?"


    "Not exactly. You studied mathematics, yes? Good. This might still be difficult to understand, but I am mathematics given physical form. And mathematics is the language of everything, including time and gravity. They might more accurately call me the Math Dragon since it''s relativity and probabilities that I influence, not time.


    "The future is uncertain and so unknowable, but with enough information, accurate predictions are possible. For instance, when you entered the Hollow, the sheer magnitude of possibilities you brought with you vibrated against every drop of mist and scale on my body. Odds are, a quest brought you here. I can''t say what you will encounter or if you will succeed, but I can say there is, at least, a possibility that you will succeed. Now, tell me all about your quest."


    So Raf told Sibling his story: how his parents raised him explicitly, knowing he would be instrumental in Adam''s destruction. How his mother died 8 years ago, and how Rowan helped to raise and train him. How Adam sent a fallen to kill his father, then him, and then possess Morgan. How Sophia saved his life and guided him here. And finally, Raf''s goal of saving his sister.


    As he finished his story, they approached a glowing lake. Nothing lived in the lake, no fish or frogs or bugs, but the water itself seemed alive with glittering golden molecules. On the far side, Raf saw an enormous wheel spinning in a stream of shimmering liquid. Was that the Edenwheel?


    "Hm. My heart breaks for you," said Sibling. "You''ve come all this way, only to learn your goal is impossible. A fallen cannot be banished except by the one who summoned it. Since Adam is unlikely to free your sister, the only freedom she''s likely to know is in death. If you want to save your sister, you''ll have to end her suffering before the fallen devours her soul entirely."


    Raf stopped. "What? No! Sophia said¡­"


    "Angels are a contradiction. They are forbidden by Heaven''s Law from interfering in Eden''s affairs, yet here one is. Sophia may have saved you and guided you here, but why?"


    Raf hoped Sophia would speak and contradict Sibling, but Sophia remained frustratingly silent as usual. A screaming doubt filled that silence. Had he made a mistake in trusting them? What did Sophia want? He didn''t know.


    A hopeless sob rose in his chest. Dad¡­ Morgan¡­ Was there nothing he could do to save her?


    "Don''t despair," comforted Sibling. "Look and see, her soul will come to this place, like countless souls before hers, and she will meet you here again. Look, you can see yourself now."


    With a long, sharp horn, Sibling pointed to the middle of the lake, where Raf noticed something underwater, resting peacefully. The glowing liquid was translucent, obscuring his view. Still, he saw dark scales of a mysterious creature asleep at the bottom of the opaque lake.


    Understanding dawned on Raf.


    It was a lake of souls. In the lake, a single soul blended and swirled and danced with countless more, becoming more than a single soul but a force of nature. And somehow, that scaly being asleep in the lake of souls was him.


    Raf''s knees gave out. He collapsed on all fours, scraping his knees and hands on the crystals and rocks. It was all too much. He was overwhelmed by fear and confusion and heartbreak. It threatened his very sanity. The pressure he''d known all his life, a burden no child should bear, felt insignificant compared to the dilemma he now faced: to kill his sister, send her to the next life, or wait as Azazel devoured her into oblivion. Either way, he''d lose Morgan forever. He cried and screamed and cursed Adam, but it was done and couldn''t be undone.


    Raf had already lost.

 Chapter 16 - Morgan & Azazel - Castro Station

    Chapter 16 - Morgan & Azazel


    Azazel had already won.


    Morgan was trapped in her mind, and all she could do was watch from an icy cage as Azazel piloted her body.


    She saw and heard and sensed everything, but from far away, in an astral room built of ice: Morgan''s psychic barrier, the only thing keeping her alive. If she forgot the barrier for even an instant, Azazel would break in and tear her soul to shreds.


    Rowan taught her to dreamscape years prior. They taught Morgan countless things, and if she surrendered, all that knowledge would pass to Azazel and then on to Adam. She couldn''t give in. Rowan was going to save her. She just had to hold on.


    ''That''s adorable. You have hope,'' mocked Azazel, standing outside her wall of ice, wearing a curvaceous buxom redhead in silky nightwear. It was distractingly beautiful. ''Let''s see how long that lasts.''


    Morgan ignored Azazel and started shaping her room. If she was to be trapped in a cage, it might as well be cozy. She carved out space for a comfortable seat, thinned the wall in front of it, so the picture was clearer, and then sat down to watch what her stolen eyes witnessed on a large flat screen.


    Azazel opened the door to Morgan''s father''s office. Inside stood the former Steward of Lona, Milo Meiori, next to the Holy Father Himself, Adam, replete with all five Blessings, the crown, sword, gauntlets, and belt.


    Morgan had never seen Adam in person before and was surprised to find He resembled a fairly average, if strikingly handsome, man. His hair was long and straight and golden. His expression was stately and paternal, with an air of supreme confidence. One could sense He ruled the world, deigning to take note of Morgan with royal disinterest. Adam was probably too old and world-weary for such trivial things as passion or rage. That terrified Morgan more than anything. Adam could massacre countless people on a whim and probably wouldn''t feel a thing.


    "Good, let''s begin," said Adam. He moved to sit behind Arthur Avalyn''s desk. On the wall behind him hung a large oil painting depicting the Decimation of Exile, titled ''Wrath of Godfather.'' A wasp familiar flew to land on the desk.


    "Effective immediately, Milo Meiori will assume the duties and responsibilities of Steward of Crescent. In one week, and upon his marriage to Morgan Avalyn, Milo will ascend to Steward of the Vulpen Islands. The three other islands'' stewards will be informed of this change in their position, and their attendance at Milo''s coronation is mandatory.


    "Upon marriage, Morgan Avalyn will act as Regent of Crescent until an heir comes of age. Her responsibility will be organizing the locals into line."


    Adam''s demeanor changed from stately to menacing. "There''s also the matter of the firefox you allowed to escape."


    Azazel blinked in surprise, briefly glancing at the wasp familiar.


    "Did you forget?" said Adam, "I see and hear everything. You told the firefox about the missionary I sent to retrieve the other Avalyn girl, the one who displayed magical affinity. She belongs in the Garden, not out here at the edge of nowhere. My missionary hasn''t reported in, and his bird went to the aether. Both are assumed lost.


    "You let an enemy escape, revealed dogmatic intel, and thereby compromised a critical mission. As punishment for these crimes, I should banish you here and now... but given your otherwise sterling record, I''m inclined to give you a chance to redeem yourself. Find the firefox and the girl, and bring them to me. You have until the coronation. If you fail, I will send you back to Hell."


    Azazel was furious. Morgan felt his rage like a strong wind. But in Morgan''s voice, Azazel answered, "Thank you for this opportunity. I won''t disappoint you again."


    Adam said nothing. He didn''t threaten or repeat himself. He didn''t need to. The painting hanging on the wall behind him told volumes. Instead, Adam rose and turned His back to Morgan. He walked over to the full-length mirror on the wall. Adam drew His Blessed Sword, made of pure ivory, and gently He tapped the sword against the mirror. Its image rippled and changed, revealing a white marble room. He turned to face Milo and Morgan, tall, handsome, and perfect.


    "I''ll return in one week to officiate the wedding. Use that time wisely." Then Adam stepped through the mirror, disappearing as the image returned to a reflection.


    Azazel and Morgan were alone in a room with Milo. He repeatedly glanced down at a large bloodstain on the rug where Morgan was standing.


    ''This is the room where he betrayed your father,'' Azazel taunted from beyond her psychic barrier, still wearing the buxom redhead. ''And the blood we''re standing on bled out the head of the man your father killed. Look how uneasy Milo is.''


    Morgan had to look away from the screen and Azazel toward an empty corner of her icy cage. Deciding she would like a breakfast nook, Morgan imagined a cute little table and chair. But then she heard Milo''s voice and struggled to remain focused.


    "I don''t know if you''re in there, but Morgan, I''m so sorry this had to happen. Your father¡­ he doomed himself by plotting against Adam. He can''t be beaten; you can only reason with Him. I convinced Him to spare you. Morgan, I¡­ I swear I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you."


    Milo stepped toward Morgan and raised a hand to brush her cheek.


    If Morgan could vomit, she would. She wanted to scream and stab his kind face with a knife. She wanted to run away.


    Morgan''s psychic barriers shattered. She felt Azazel reach into her and unlock something, something she hadn''t known was there before.


    She mentally fell into a fetal position encased in ice, fearfully awaiting Azazel''s attack.


    But instead of attacking Morgan, a burst of light launched Milo across the room, slamming him against the basalt wall.


    A glowing ring encircled Milo''s neck. It lifted him by the throat, gasping, confused, and terrified.


    "Let''s establish some ground rules going forward, husband," said Azazel in Morgan''s voice. "First thing, don''t ever touch me again. Second, stay out of my way. Follow those two simple rules, and we''ll get along. Break the rules; I break your bones."


    The glowing ring evaporated, dropping Milo to the floor, who collapsed on impact. He stumbled to his feet, nursing his throat and looking livid.


    Azazel summoned two more rings for Milo''s wrists, dragging him down to a kneeling position. Morgan stood over Milo, casually adding, "I hope this clears up any confusion you might have had as to the chain of command in this relationship."


    Milo looked daggers up at Azazel, gasping, "You will bear me an heir!"


    "Bear it yourself." Then Azazel turned and left the study.


    As Azazel walked down the hall, Morgan collected herself, trying to rebuild the room she''d imagined earlier. Her cage was smaller, but concepts like size and space were meaningless in the dreamscape. She carved the room out just as it was before.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    And just as before, Azazel stood languidly outside the mental wall, wearing the face of a beautiful woman, always watching, constantly teasing, but now the humor in its eyes was gone. There was a hard seriousness in its expression.


    ''I need access to your memories,'' Azazel said flatly.


    Morgan ignored the fallen, crafting a board game and flower to set on her breakfast table. Then she realized where Azazel was taking her: to Gramma Henrietta''s room, stopping outside her door.


    ''Your mental fortifications are impressive. They impede my psychic attacks, but there are other ways to convince you. Rather than a stick, let me offer you a carrot. Surrender your memories to me, and I''ll let you tell your sweet old granny her son and grandson are dead, and you''re all set to marry Milo. Ignore me again, and I''ll tell her myself, but you won''t like it when I tell her,'' Azazel menaced.


    Morgan almost dropped the cage protecting her. She turned to face the fallen. So beautiful. So terrible. Morgan was paralyzed with fear; of what it might do with the information and what it might do to Gramma Henri if she refused.


    Azazel put Morgan''s hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly.


    ''Going once, going twice-''


    ''I accept your terms. Let me speak to her. My memories are yours to access.''


    ''Excellent. Now imagine me a door to enter your memories. Say what you want to say fast because this shouldn''t take me long at all.''


    Stepping into her grandmother''s room, Morgan took command of her body again. She sensed Azazel rifling around her memories for something, remembering moments with Rowan, in training, at family dinners, midwifing for Lyn''s birth. Azazel remembered Morgan''s mother and grandfather, both long gone; and moments with Raf, bickering, supporting, encouraging; until finally Azazel remembered yesterday''s investigation. That memory included the information Azazel was seeking. But this took several minutes of rattling around Morgan''s head, so while it was remembering her entire life, Morgan spoke to her Gramma Henri.


    Henrietta''s room was traditional, elegantly lit, with candles about the room and more than a dozen paintings on the wall. There was a balcony that looked over the ocean, but Henrietta had drawn the curtains closed.


    Gramma Henri sat in a comfortable chair by the fireplace. Morgan took a seat across from her; that''s when Henri first noticed Morgan was in the room.


    "Oh! Dear, you startled me. I must have dozed off. I was having the most horrible dream. I dreamt I was alone. I had outlasted everyone. My husband. My son. My grandchildren. It was so awful. I tried to wake up, but I must have been exhausted. I still feel exhausted. But you''re here, and you woke me from that awful, awful dream. It''s so good to see you," Gramma Henri reached up and held Morgan''s face lovingly.


    Morgan held Gramma Henri''s hand against her cheek, resisting every urge to cry. Morgan wanted to fall into Gramma''s lap and sob until her tears ran dry. But Gramma Henri needed her now, so Morgan put her grief aside and forced a smile. "I''m still here. And the others aren''t gone. They''re just not here right now. It was a bad dream, Gramma."


    Henrietta''s face lit up in relief and shock. "Oh! Oh, my dear, you can''t imagine what¡­ I thought¡­ oh, but it''s all right now. I''ll put on some tea." On shaky knees, Gramma Henri stood and grabbed the kettle, put it over the fire, and then prepared the tea cups.


    Morgan spoke quickly, not knowing how much time she had left, trying her best to keep the fear and heartbreak out of her voice. "I''m going to marry Milo."


    Gramma Henri turned in shock, carrying the cups to the side table and saying, "Milo is too old for you! That''s wildly inappropriate. He''s almost my age!"


    "I know that, but the decision has been made, and I¡­ I''ve decided to go along with it. He is old. Maybe he''ll die soon and leave me a free widow."


    Gramma Henri chuckled darkly and poured the tea, handing a cup to Morgan. Then she looked into her granddaughter''s eyes, and with timeless wisdom and loving sympathy, Gramma Henri comforted Morgan.


    In the end, Morgan got more time with her Gramma than she''d expected. She told Henrietta she loved her and not to worry if she soon seemed different or distant. Everything was going to be fine.


    ''Well, that''s enough of that,'' said Azazel, taking control of Morgan''s body again, having found what it was looking for in her memories.


    Morgan''s physical demeanor instantly and noticeably changed, as if a switch had been flipped or someone else had materialized and replaced her between blinks.


    Azazel was back in command. It stood and left Henrietta''s room without a word. Poor Henrietta didn''t understand what had taken over her granddaughter. She cried out Morgan''s name in vain as the young woman walked out in silence.


    Morgan was back in her psychic icebox. She wanted to tremble. She wanted to scream and cry and feel the cathartic release that comes from surrendering to despair, but it was impossible. Tears are real. In the dreamscape, nothing is real, and if she gave in, Azazel would devour her soul.


    So Morgan imagined a small box, and in the box, she put her grief and sadness alongside the memories of her father and brother. Then Morgan closed the box and stored it under the icy floorboard of her mind.


    One day, Morgan thought. She would take the box out again and let herself feel, but now, she needed to concentrate.


    Azazel watched everything she did with an amused expression from outside her psychic barrier.


    ''Cheer up. Aren''t you going to ask me where we''re going?'' it asked.


    Resigned to letting herself be distracted, Morgan decided to play Azazel''s game.


    ''Where are we going?'' said flatly.


    ''We''re going to catch a Raven and rescue your little sister.''


    April 2011 - Castro Station


    Looking back, there were so many signs. But who could have imagined? These things aren''t supposed to happen.


    Jude needed me, and I wasn''t there. Worse, I gave up on him. I was angry and frustrated. He kept using increasingly dangerous drugs. When I told him to stop or slow down, he would go back to Tandy, and I wouldn''t hear from him again for days and weeks.


    One moment haunts me. I was on my way home from work, descending the stairs to the Castro Street MUNI Station as Jude walked up the stairs.


    I didn''t recognize him at first. Jude had been losing weight since arriving in San Francisco, but he looked skeletal climbing the steps. His face was sunken in. His hair was matted and oily. His eyes were wide and intense like windows to a dozen screaming mimis.


    I stopped and realized the terrible extent of Jude''s substance abuse. I still couldn''t recognize him. My bright, funny, friendly little brother was gone, and in his shoes was an irrational, insatiable hunger for self-destruction.


    "Jude, you look awful. What are you doing?"


    "You know," he whispered intensely. His eyes went somehow even wider as if an epiphany had just come to him.


    I stood feeling more and more uneasy. "Okay. Yeah, I guess I know what you''re doing. Jude, please, you gotta stop doing this to yourself."


    "I can think clearer when I''m on drugs. I know things. Things you''ve known," he said, like he was accusing me of something.


    I blinked. "I don''t know what you''re talking about. I don''t think you''re thinking as clearly as you think you''re thinking. Let''s get you down. Come home with me. We''ll get you fed and showered."


    "I''m not going with you. You''ve known this whole time. You knew what I was going to do! You know what I''m going to do!" He was shouting at me.


    I didn''t know. I thought I knew. Jude had been threatening suicide for so many years, and he had finally chosen a slow death. In my mind, I saw Jude''s face on a wall next to Jes''. Death by overdose. Tears started filling my eyes, and I fought back sobs.


    "Jude. Please. Stop."


    "You know!" he screamed. "You know! You know!"


    I didn''t know. I didn''t know what to say. I didn''t know what to do. I just started crying, and he just kept screaming, "You know!"


    Finally, he stopped screaming and walked up the stairs and away from me. He looked back with sadness and regret and accusation.


    I stepped aside to collapse on a bench and cry. Usually, I kept everything boxed up, but this moment broke me. I felt so alone. My sister, dead. My parents, useless at best. My older brother, a monster. And my younger brother, the living dead. My entire family, gone.


    I asked myself what Jude meant. What was I supposed to know? If only I were smarter. If only I were stronger, wiser, richer, better, anything but the person I am. I left him alone for too long. And what would happen to Jude? When would I get the call, saying they found his body outside somewhere with a needle in his arm?


    "Are you okay? Did your boyfriend break up with you?" said a voice.


    I looked up, surprised. Some guy in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, saw me crying on a plaza bench and thought this was the time to pick me up.


    "No, please," I raised my hand and looked down. "I just need a minute."


    "Sorry, it''s just I saw you sitting here crying, and you''re so beautiful. Whoever he is, he doesn''t deserve you. You know, you can come with me to my-"


    I got up and walked away, wiping my tears and boxing my emotions away.


    "Yeah, fuck you, too!" he shouted behind me. "You''re a piece of shit!"

 Chapter 17 - Blood Baptism

    Chapter 17 - Blood Baptism


    Somewhere out in the dreamscape, an 8-year-old deaf witch came upon a blue-flame candle-lit hallway. How Lyn Avalyn arrived, she couldn''t say, and as is the nature of dreams, she didn''t wonder how, only at her surroundings.


    The walls were stone-carved images of exciting battles and wondrous creatures.


    One wall showed the story of a lone woman. A great big hand pushed the woman from a high place. She fell for a long time, landing in a small, dark pit.


    A handsome and strong man with bat-like wings came to the lone woman. He touched her head, and she grew wings like his.


    At the end of the hall was a single door depicting two winged beings wrapped in each other and holding a baby.


    Something was summoning Lyn from the other side of the door. Its call was irresistible, yet frightening.


    Lyn turned the knob and stepped into a spacious chamber.


    It was darkly lit with no windows. Graphic murals covered the walls. In the middle of the room were two ashen grey figures. One was lying down. It was terrifying and monstrous, with bat-like wings and fangs that jut out in all directions, and it appeared to be dying.


    The other, sitting next to the monster, caressing its terrible face as a mother might comfort a sick child, was a beautifully scary woman. Her skin was grey. Full waves of black hair cascaded down her back and shoulders. Leathery wings wrapped around her chest and body.


    She regarded Lyn first with shock, then suspicion, then finally curiosity.


    ''How have you come here?'' the woman asked. Her voice was sharp and threatening.


    Lyn jumped, wide-eyed, touched her ears, and stammered, ''You can - I can hear you!''


    The woman''s demeanor softened, then a dawn of understanding. ''We''re in a dream, darling, and we aren''t bound by physical limitations here. Now tell me, how have you come to this place?''


    Lyn wondered. ''I don''t know. I remember Rowan tucking me in with Apple. I think a bird-man took me. I don''t know where I am.''


    Lyn locked eyes with the dying monster. It reached for her weakly. The monster was calling to her, and she was calling to it. Lyn stepped forward to hold its clawed hand.


    The ashen woman watched with rapt attention. Even as the winged monster evaporated into so much thin air, the woman watched.


    Suddenly, Lyn fell to the polished stone floor. Everything hurt. Her head, her stomach, her chest, and her limbs. It was as if her very blood was on fire. The pain was intense, and she screamed in vain.


    Then just as suddenly, the ashen woman scooped Lyn up in her strong arms and laid Lyn on the same bed the creature was resting on but a moment earlier. She held Lyn close, whispering soft affirmations and telling her the pain would soon pass.


    The pain lasted for quite a long time; at least, it felt that way to Lyn, but eventually, the agony did subside.


    And throughout the harrowing event, the ashen woman held Lyn close and hummed a gentle song.


    When Lyn could finally see through the pain, she asked the ashen woman, ''what happened?''


    The woman said, ''Someone took you and a child of mine and did something to both of you. I''m not sure what, but I think you''re... like me now.''


    Lyn tried to sit up but something was holding her down.


    The woman noticed Lyn struggle. ''You''ll wake soon,'' she said. ''I''ve kept you as long as I could. My darling girl. I''ve watched you grow from afar. I''m Lilith. Think of me as your mother now. Listen close, and do as I say.


    ''You carry Cain''s curse now, and forevermore, you will thirst for blood. Keep your wits, remember what Rowan taught you, and when the time is right, kill the one who did this. Drink their blood, and it will nourish you.''


    Lyn had so many questions, but before she could ask a single one, she opened her eyes to an aether-lit room.


    Still groggy, she blinked several times and looked around. One door, no windows, and a tall man wearing a dark feathered outfit and bird mask.


    He was examining samples from behind a desk covered in delicate-looking Garden devices.


    Medical instruments hung along the walls, which were otherwise bare and sterile.


    Lyn was tied to a bed in the center of the room, alongside the same winged creature from her dream, only dead. Lyn almost screamed, but she kept her wits. Somehow, she had to break the binds and kill the bird-man.


    She tested her strength against the straps on her arms, waist, and legs. They were designed for people much bigger than Lyn. She could almost slip her hand out of its bind, but first, the bird-man noticed her awake.


    Lyn could only see the man''s eyes behind the bird mask. He was probably saying something, but Lyn wasn''t listening.


    The bird-man stood over Lyn, checked her pulse, and then began a thorough examination. He took extra interest in Lyn''s teeth. Moving her tongue, Lyn noticed she had grown long, sharp fangs. Lyn also noticed the bird-man''s mask had several tiny holes where air could enter.


    And an idea came to Lyn. She quickly channeled the aether light in the room into several small but bright balls of light, and then Lyn directed the lights into her kidnapper''s mask.


    He recoiled from the sudden visual assault, shaking his head in vain. He ripped his mask off, but it did no good. The little balls of light continued to float just in front of his green eyes.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    While the bird-man was distracted, Lyn slipped a hand out of its binding, quickly grabbed the man''s hair, pulled his head down with surprising strength, and ripped into his throat with her razor-sharp teeth.


    The bird-man struggled and squirmed and even struck Lyn twice, but his life''s blood was gushing out so fast Lyn couldn''t drink it all, as it ran down her face and neck, pooling on the bed around her. The strikes hurt, but the blood was rapture, and as it flowed down her throat, she felt it heal and strengthen her, as Lilith said it would.


    Soon the bird-man was limp on top of her. Only after his last heartbeat filled her throat did Lyn let go of his hair, letting the body fall to the floor.


    She lay there for several minutes, feeling the blood course through her body; a strength unlike anything she''d known or imagined; like she was on fire, but in a good way. Lyn ripped the other binds off and sat up in bed.


    Now what? She wondered, looking around the room again. Everything seemed so detailed. Colors were more vibrant than before.


    Tubes and needles were attached to her arm and connected to a fluid-filled bag hanging between her and Lilith''s child. She ripped the tubes out.


    Then Lyn pushed herself off the bed and onto the floor and her own two legs. She felt strong and undamaged. The places the bird-man struck her were unbruised. Even the needle wound had healed.


    But more than all that, she felt new. It was as if Lyn, the 8-year-old girl, was gone. Now she was someone else. Something else? She turned to look at the body of Lilith''s child. The bird-man had killed it. Them? Or he or she? Lyn never even got to know their name. Was Lilith''s child with her now? Had the bird-man made them one?


    But no. Gwendolyn Avalyn remembered her name. She remembered Morgan and Rowan and Rafael and Papa. Lyn was still herself, only more; more feral, more powerful, and more deadly.


    She barely noticed the corpse of the bird-man, limp on the ground in a puddle of blood. The smell strangely intoxicated her. She felt no guilt or remorse for having killed him and briefly wondered at what darkness that hinted. He had kidnapped her, experimented on her, and killed Lilith''s child, to whom she was unexplainably connected. His death felt right and proper, so she turned from the grim scene and walked away.


    Cracking open the door, Lyn peeked out to see a long, aether-lit, windowless hallway. Nobody.


    Lyn didn''t know where she was or where this new hallway would lead, but with one way forward and nothing but death behind her, Lyn stepped into the hall, covered in blood, and ran as fast as she could to the end.


    Lyn stepped out from behind a bookshelf and into a Shaman Kroeser''s mortuary.


    Morgan stood in the center of the room as if she had been waiting for Lyn. Morgan didn''t seem at all concerned by the blood covering Lyn''s face and clothes. She simply smiled and opened her arms, and waited for Lyn to run into Morgan''s embrace. Big smile.


    Something felt wrong, like a rancid smell or the taste of something gone sour.


    Lyn was disoriented by the vibrancy of colors and the new crispness of her vision. Was it in Morgan''s eyes? Something unrecognizable looked back at Lyn from behind Morgan''s eyes.


    But it was Morgan! And Lyn just went through something traumatic. There was no one on Eden Lyn would rather comfort her now than her big sister. Lyn put her doubts aside and slowly went to embrace Morgan. The hug was brief and stiff.


    Then Morgan stood and looked at the secret opening Lyn had revealed. She went to inspect it, but Lyn grabbed Morgan''s hand and held it, shaking her head no.


    ''Don''t go in there,'' she signed.


    Morgan ignored her, ripped her hand away, and turned from Lyn, leaving her alone in Kroeser''s mortuary. Lyn was stunned to numbness.


    Morgan investigated the room where The Bad Thing happened for a long time. Meanwhile, Lyn became overwhelmed by negative thoughts. For the first time since her flight from Castle Moondial, Lyn started crying. She wanted Apple. She wanted her daddy. She sat and sucked her thumb and sobbed.


    But she wasn''t alone for long.


    A puddle of darkness pooled on the floor, from which three figures emerged. They fell up in the air, and as they landed, the puddle disappeared.


    Lyn was so stunned she stopped crying. It took a second to recognize Rowan with two people she didn''t know; an eerie, grey-skinned man wearing dark clothes; the other, a local cliff kid with wild hair.


    Rowan ran forward to embrace Lyn tenderly and wipe some of the blood off her face.


    ''You''re okay,'' Rowan signed. ''We''re together again. Let''s go. We''ll take a bath.''


    Lyn erupted with a thousand questions and stories. Rowan couldn''t follow most of what Lyn was signing because she signed so fast, but they seemed to understand when Lyn gestured that Morgan was behind them.


    Rowan''s face fell in resigned misery. They turned to face Morgan as she crossed the threshold, slipping a notebook into an inside pocket of her long jacket. Big smile.


    Far away and from her seat in the dreamscape, the real Morgan watched everything with a shattered heart.


    It was wrenching to see Lyn again, unable to comfort her, only to abandon her immediately.


    Morgan saw the room where the raven serial killer experimented on her little sister. Morgan saw his corpse on the floor.


    As Azazel read the madman''s notes, Morgan read along, too.


    But it wasn''t until Azazel walked Morgan back to the mortuary that she knew true despair; because Azazel was thrilled to find Rowan and two other figures standing next to Lyn. Both loose ends in one place for easy snipping.


    With a flick of Morgan''s wrist, Lyn became enveloped in a bright sphere of hard light, which carried her swiftly across the room and into the hallway behind Morgan. One loose end accounted for. Next, to kill the others and bring Rowan''s head to Adam.


    Morgan tried to resist, but she was powerless to control her body, as Azazel threw a solid light spear toward Rowan''s chest.


    The grey-skinned man quickly summoned a barrier of solid shadow, but his dark wall barely slowed Morgan''s light spear enough for Rowan to narrowly dodge it.


    Rowan and the man exchanged fearful glances. This was a death match, and Morgan''s light magic was uniquely effective against the dark man''s shadows. Even three-on-one, they were at a disadvantage.


    The man turned to the third figure, a youth with chain weapons at the ready, and said, "This is too dangerous for you. Wait outside." A pool of shadows appeared beneath the youth, who inexplicably fell into it as if the ground had given way to the man''s shadows. Once the youth vanished, the pool disappeared, and the man returned his attention to Morgan, who was rushing forward wielding a hard light blade.


    Rowan had no weapons to defend themself but years of agile combat experience to draw from. Besides, Rowan taught Morgan how to fight. They knew her every move, but Azazel was something else entirely.


    The fallen had somehow tapped into a latent magical ability no one knew Morgan possessed by conjuring hard light. Without even glancing, it summoned bright weapons and barriers, which deflected Samaal''s shadow weapons with ease.


    Rowan''s attacks were even less effective since they were reluctant to use full fire against Morgan. But Rowan wasn''t trying to win. They were trying to survive and distract for long enough that Rowan could rescue Lyn.


    Meanwhile, the light and dark magic wielders both seemed a mix of surprised, intrigued, and awed by the other''s existence, testing each other, or maybe the fallen was toying with them both.


    An opening! As Morgan turned her attention to Samaal, Rowan ran to where Lyn was still captive in a sphere of hard light, crying hysterically to be let out, banging her fists in vain. Rowan quickly tried to cut the barrier with a knife, burning it, and even brute strength, but the hard light sphere was impenetrable.


    And it was too late, besides. A spear landed in their chest, and they fell to the ground. Stunned, Rowan looked back to see Samaal, also on the ground. Both of his legs had been severed below the knees.


    Morgan stood over him, smiling broadly. Big finish.


    As Azazel brought Morgan''s hard light blade down to cleave Samaal''s head, he submerged into a pool of shadows on the ground.


    The hard light blade buried itself into the stone floor.


    Morgan looked up and scowled. Rowan was gone, too.


    But Lyn remained, screaming in rage and fear and sadness and captivity.

 Chapter 18 - Alive & Unbroken - Oklahoma

    Chapter 18 - Alive & Unbroken


    Raf spent days in Soul Hollow. Or maybe it was weeks. Perhaps hours or even minutes. Relative time passed as fast or slow as Sibling the Gravity Dragon willed it.


    Sibling assured Raf that he could spend as much or as little time in Soul Hollow as he wanted; because outside this vast, crystalline-twinkling, golden-fire-lit, soul-misty cavern, time advanced so slowly, relatively speaking, the outside world was almost on pause.


    So Raf had all the time in the world to ask every question he could think of.


    Sibling answered readily, for this was a unique and charming experience, having spent lonely eons hiding from Adam. Sibling hadn''t seen a human in millennia. And it was a rare occasion indeed for Sibling''s youngest sibling to visit Soul Hollow in the body of a mortal, and never before as a human.


    Raf learned he was Sibling''s best and eternal friend.


    Raf was an ikon. His true purpose, his divine edict, was to tend the garden of Eden by influencing and inspiring the souls he came into contact.


    Raf was the ikon of life.


    Each ikon had a unique strength. Raf''s gift was the seed of divine conscience. He couldn''t control a person''s mind, but he could plant an idea. That spark of divine inspiration could spread like weeds as mortals shared it with one another.


    The cthulians called him the ''wanderer'' because Raf''s soul had been reborn countless times. In past lives, Raf had been cthulians, mer, magical creatures, human men and women, even small animals. His true body remembered each of those lives and would remember his own life when this one ends.


    Raf also learned the source of the fiery bright light illuminating the Hollow: the phoenix, continually frozen and advanced in time to mark the ''days'' and ''nights.''


    As its life ended, the phoenix rose like a candle in the air and exploded in a glorious explosion, which Sibling froze in time, burning like a tiny star.


    And when Raf grew tired and wanted to sleep, Sibling unfroze the phoenix, which would burst into flames and fall to a pile of ashes on the crystalline ground, beginning a new life. Then, a newly hatched chick would emerge from the burning cinders, like smoldering coal flapping out of a fire pit.


    While Raf slept, Sibling lived an entire life with the phoenix. Firefly bugs, glow worms, and phosphorescent mushrooms ensured the Hollow was never completely dark, and the phoenix always had a steady supply of food.


    By the time Raf rested and woke up, the phoenix, nearing the end of its lifecycle, would burst into glorious flames again and rise like a tiny sunrise in the air.


    And Raf would be ready for tree bean breakfast with a new day''s worth of questions. And then the cycle would repeat again and again, and again.


    Sibling said it was impossible to force the fallen out of Morgan''s body.


    But there was a way to imprison it, so it could never harm another person again. A spell that would trap the fallen into one of Raf''s true body''s scales, the same way Adam trapped the five Eden Spirits into the pieces of regalia he wears today. And while that parallel made Raf uneasy, it might grant him revenge on the monster that killed his father and tortured his sister.


    To cast the spell and access the magic, Raf had to train in the lake of souls for a long time every cycle. Sibling flew in graceful circles over him, guiding and advising.


    Raf even touched his true body. Raf''s true self was a magnificent serpentine dragon with batlike wings, and his scales were neon rainbows against jet black.


    Raf pried one iridescent black scale off his true body''s tail, feeling his true body''s warmth and the strength.


    Raf used the scale to practice the magic required to trap the fallen''s soul.


    As Raf trained, Tzik-Enu conferred with Sibling whenever possible, though their exchanges were private. Tzik-Enu was outwardly uninterested in Raf and made no effort to befriend or engage with him at all. Raf didn''t mind. He was busy learning and training. Sibling taught him countless miraculous ideas and truths about himself and the universe.


    There was a surprising amount of vegetation diversity in the Hollow. Fronds, ferns, crickets, lizards, crabs, and pixies! Tiny reptilian creatures with big insect wings. The pixies avoided Raf and Tzik-Enu at all times, constantly watching from afar. Raf didn''t even notice them for the longest time.


    It took several cycles of training in the lake of souls with Sibling''s guidance, but in time, Raf could grab hold of a free-floating soul, lock it into the spirit dragon''s scale, and then pull it back out at will.


    So the time had come.


    Having learned what he came for, Raf decided he was ready to return home, slay the beast, and free his sister''s soul before the fallen devoured it entirely. He knew what that meant. He squared his mind and told Sibling, who made no objections, even offering Raf transport back to Castle Moondial.


    Raf had to climb into Sibling''s mouth for protection from the elements. Holding on by a fang and standing on fleshy jaw-bone amidst a spicy breath that Raf assumed came from stomach acids and saliva. It was gross. One of the grossest things Raf had ever experienced, and he had put an oceanic parasite in his ear.


    Tzik-Enu grabbed hold of Sibling''s opposite fang, unwilling to let Raf out of sight until his natural death when she could retrieve the symbiote from his head.


    The ordeal was over in relatively no time.


    Sibling slowed Raf to a near stop, so from his perspective, Sibling''s jaws were only closed for one loud instant; when they opened again, Raf jumped onto the balcony of Castle Moondial; the very same balcony that a demon killed his father, threw Raf to die, and tortured Morgan. The place his journey began.


    Sibling was unsentimental, wishing Raf good fortune and a "See you soon" before flying back underwater, returning Raf and Tzik-Enu to relative normal time.


    Sophia''s golden barrier that enveloped Raf''s body dispersed, and the glowing chain/tattoo returned.


    Raf was light-headed from the sudden change in pressure. He stumbled away from the edge and collapsed on the floor.


    Legion, too, seemed to be recalibrating their senses for the surface, giving Raf a dizzying headache.


    Tzik-Enu was similarly struggling to adjust to the environment. Her entire body at different points seemed to swell and then retract. She widened her stance and dropped her harpoon.


    It took them several minutes to find their breaths and stand steady.


    Then, quiet as possible to avoid detection (no easy feat, with Tzik-Enu''s sharp claws crashing into the polished stone floors), they snuck out of Raf''s father''s room and down the hall toward Morgan''s room.


    Legion''s heightened senses enabled Raf to ''smell'' the guards before he heard them. They were standing post outside Morgan''s room and hadn''t heard Raf or Tzik-Enu approach.


    Raf peeked around the corner and recognized the guards, Sifu and Limu. Raf knew all the castle staff. He knew their schedules and habits. He''d met Limu''s wife and daughter. Raf knew they''d both be honor and duty-bound to attack Tzik-Enu and alert Morgan that Raf was alive. He couldn''t let them see him, but he wouldn''t attack them, either.


    Raf had an idea.


    He sat on the floor and began meditating, as he''d done in the lake of souls. He opened himself to his surroundings and reached out to Sifu and Limu, and Raf concentrated on a single thought:


    ''Isn''t it Evesday? I think it''s Evesday. I should be standing guard on the wall.''


    Raf concentrated on nothing else but that for a long time, hoping it would work. He was about to give up when he heard Sifu''s voice saying, "Wait. What day is today?"


    "I think it''s Evesday," Limu''s voice answered.


    "Crap. We have wall duty tonight. We''re at the wrong post."


    "I was just thinking that! But then, who''s watching Lady Morgan''s door?"


    "I dunno. They''re probably waiting for us on the wall. We should hurry."


    Relieved, Raf heard their footsteps knocking against the granite floor grow quieter. Once he was sure the hall was clear, Raf motioned to Tzik-Enu to follow, and he dashed toward Morgan''s door. It was locked, but with careful instruction, Tzik-Enu was able to break the door open without making it too obvious from the outside. By the time Morgan noticed the door was broken, she would already be standing in the doorway.


    As fate would have it, Morgan was arriving at Castle Moondial on horseback with a captive screaming Lyn.


    The little witch knew something was wrong with her sister.


    Lyn wanted Rowan. She wanted Apple. She cried and cried, but Morgan held her firm with one hand and the reins with the other.


    The real Morgan was distraught. She imagined herself in the tiniest block of ice, holding her knees tight.


    Azazel, wearing the buxom redhead, tormented Morgan, taunting her, whispering threats against Lyn and cruel predictions of her future. And what it would do to Rowan next. Rowan, who might be dead already after taking a spear to the chest.


    And so they rode up the Gnomon, through the gates, into the courtyard of Castle Moondial.


    The castle staff looked horrified and confused but made no move to interfere as Morgan dragged Lyn, kicking and screaming, up the stairs and locked Lyn in her room. The poor girl could be heard screaming for hours, but that wasn''t out of the ordinary for Lyn, so everyone ignored her.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Azazel was, naturally, in peak form. It cracked jokes and laughed loudly at them. So carried away was it being smug and superior, planning what and how to tell Adam; the fallen failed to notice those tiny indentations in the floor from some sharp and powerful force. It didn''t even notice the broken door frame or intense fishy odor until well inside Morgan''s room, but by then, a white-hot, razor-sharp chain was loose in the air toward Morgan''s heart.


    Azazel reached into Morgan''s soul and summoned a barrier of hard light, which the chain shattered through! Morgan barely dodged the attack and dove for the door.


    A bone harpoon flew through the air and lodged itself in the wall between Morgan and the door at an angle so the door wouldn''t open.


    There was no time to pry the harpoon out or break it because the chain was still flying, and Morgan''s hard light magic seemed ineffective. Was Morgan too drained after the battle with Rowan and the shadow man?


    That didn''t matter, said Azazel. Because it had powers of its own.


    Azazel launched Morgan''s body up and away, floating midair where Morgan could better see her attackers and nearly fell when Rafael Avalyn came into focus.


    Then a massive cthulian with vibrant colors emerged from behind her closet wall.


    "What the hell?" said Morgan.


    But Rafael''s other arm dropped a chain, and suddenly he was dual-wielding fiery razor-sharp chains. He meant to end this quickly, whipping both chains horizontally as he dashed at Morgan.


    Morgan dipped and twisted in the air to avoid Rafael''s attacks, but he was relentless. The next attack sliced apart a tidy lounge table and seating nook.


    Enough! said Azazel, and Morgan shivered at its rage.


    It screamed, and all around Morgan, a force blast pushed everything away, knocking apart the furniture and breaking the windows and mirror.


    Unnoticed by anyone at the time, a wasp was killed as shards of glass collided with the stone wall.


    Morgan lifted a hand toward Raf and force-pushed him back into the wall with such impact that blood splattered behind him, and he collapsed to the ground.


    Azazel would have pulled Raf forward and slammed him back again for good measure, but the cthulian lunged forward to crush Morgan in her mighty claw.


    The trauma of witnessing that happen to her brother made it easy for Azazel to rip Morgan''s magic from her again to conjure a hard light shield, which easily deflected the cthulian''s heavy blows, but the ocean creature was fast and deadly. All Azazel could do was keep up.


    While that was happening, for some reason, Raf had a dream he saw Morgan.


    She was keening in a frozen tomb, but she was still alive. He ran to her, touched her shoulder, and said, ''Hey, hey, don''t cry. I''m here.''


    Morgan looked up in disbelief and wonder. Then she stood and hugged him tightly.


    ''How is this possible? Are you alive?'' she asked.


    ''I don''t know. I don''t know. I might be dead, but I think I died already, and Sophia stitched me back together, so I guess anything is possible at this point.''


    ''Who''s Sophia?''


    ''My guardian angel.''


    ''Pft. Did Sophia fall asleep on watch or something?''


    ''Right!? But I think I''m alive and here now because of Sophia.''


    ''Huh. Wish I had a guardian angel. My angel sucks.''


    ''But you have magic! That''s what that was, right? That wasn''t the fallen. That was your magic!''


    ''Hm. I think so. Azazel takes it from me whenever I lose focus. I''m so tired, Raf. I can''t keep fighting it.''


    ''Hey. I learned a way to trap the fallen so it can never hurt anyone ever again. We can kill it, Morgan. You and me. One last fight.''


    ''Okay. Okay. Wait. I don''t know if we''ll ever get the chance to¡­ I thought you were dead¡­ and now you''re here! I love you... so much... and no matter what happens... or how this ends... I am so. Proud of you.''


    He hugged her tightly and said, ''I love you the most. And it''s gonna be okay. I promise. I know what happens next.''


    Then Raf woke up on the stone floor of Morgan''s room. His head ached and throbbed with every heartbeat, and he felt slick with blood all over, but for some reason, and by the grace of Sophia, Raf was alive and unbroken.


    He looked up and saw Morgan and Tzik-Enu, still battling ferociously.


    Then a hard light blade came down to slice off Tzik-Enu''s massive claw. She fell back and hissed, hind legs stabbing wildly as she crawled away from Morgan. Azazel advanced and summoned a hard light trident, lifting it high above Tzik-Enu''s flailing body.


    Meanwhile, in the dreamscape, Morgan gathered all her remaining hope and strength for one more fight.


    ''This is my magic,'' she told Azazel. ''Not yours. And I''m taking it back.''


    She dropped her psychic ice defense and mentally conjured a hard light barrier between her mind and Azazel, who screamed and lashed out in vain.


    And that''s when everything happened at once.


    Raf used the chains to launch himself toward Morgan.


    In the dreamscape, Morgan took back her magic, vanishing the trident and saving Tzik-Enu from a killing blow.


    And Azazel threw a tantrum, failing to notice Raf until a razor-sharp chain blade slid into Morgan''s chest.


    The fallen was too surprised to do anything but laugh.


    As Morgan dropped to the ground, the chain removed itself, first from Morgan''s chest, then from Raf''s shoulders, falling to the floor as a simple chain again, as it was when Raf first touched it. An enormous weight fell with it, and Raf felt high for a moment.


    Sophia appeared to him once more, a majestic being of pure brilliant light.


    "Well done."


    "Wait. That can''t be it. What about the fallen?"


    "You have the spirit dragon''s scale, yes? Hold it now. Azazel will leave Morgan''s body to choose a new host."


    Raf reached into his pocket and brought the scale out in his open palm. He looked down at Morgan and what he''d done, and he almost cried. But he could cry later. Now he had to concentrate on grabbing the fallen as it traveled between victims.


    A wisp of dark fog emerged from Morgan''s body, with glowing eyes that stop your breath.


    As Raf reached out to grab hold of the fallen and channel it into the scale, Sophia slammed the broadside of a blade against Raf''s head, breaking his focus and nearly cracking his skull. The scale slipped from his fingers, and Sophia caught it.


    In that instant of betrayal, that momentary distraction, Azazel flew into Raf''s body, and Raf lost everything.


    Then Sophia spun the sword around and drove it into Raf''s back.


    "Hold onto the fallen and don''t let it escape," ordered Sophia, binding Raf and Azazel''s souls together into the spirit dragon scale, trapping them both together.


    And Rafael Avalyn fell lifeless to the ground.


    But then, for some reason and by the strange grace of Sophia, Morgan opened her eyes, alive and unbroken.


    December 2011 - Oklahoma


    Time passed. I remained self-absorbed and unaware, partying and studying. And all the while, my brother was disintegrating. I tell myself I tried. I tell myself it''s not my fault.


    He frustrated and embarrassed me. Countless times. I''m sorry, but it''s the truth. His behavior became increasingly erratic and irresponsible.


    Nathan told me Jude would pick himself up once he hit rock bottom. I didn''t know what else to do at that point. He refused to work, convinced that if he sat on the sidewalk and begged for change long enough, the government would give him SSI because of his back.


    I think he was carrying so much emotional weight he couldn''t carry anything else. He needed to be carried, but San Francisco was too expensive for me to carry us both. So I told him to get his shit together, and I focused on myself and my boyfriends.


    I was finishing my Associate''s Degree at CCSF, and it was time to apply to universities. I had good grades and a pretty interesting story, but most schools rejected me. I would eventually receive an acceptance letter from UC Davis.


    But before that happened, Tandy got pregnant.


    I was less than thrilled.


    Jude, Tandy, and I were in the living room. Oliver was at work. The sun was shining through the window, and Loki was dragging his favorite toy across the floor to hide in his secret space.


    I thought it was selfish and irresponsible to bring a child into the world under those conditions, and, to be candid, I suggested abortion. Tandy wouldn''t abort. The concept was morally repugnant to her. Her choice.


    I suggested adoption, but Tandy was determined. Tandy decided a baby would fix her and make her a better person. She romanticized a happy life, and for a time, intermittently, she had it.


    It was unfair to you to put that much responsibility on a baby. I wish I could have told you years ago; that none of this is your fault, and you deserved better, and it''s okay to be mad. I''m still mad.


    As fate would have it, your father''s father called for the first time since Morgan died. John. My father. He was overjoyed to hear the news, inviting Jude and Tandy out to Oklahoma. They''d have a home of their own, he said.


    Jude and Tandy took a Greyhound bus to Oklahoma the very next day. I saw them off and wished them luck. By that time, I''d set aside any misgivings toward Tandy. She was family now. I even grew to admire her a little.


    You were born in Oklahoma. Tandy''s parents drove down to meet you. They demanded Tandy give them custody of you immediately. Tandy told them to get bent. They told her she was disowned and disinherited.


    I came to visit that Christmas. You were so tiny, with a tuft of red hair. And such a happy baby. You never cried.


    It had been some fifteen years since I''d been in Oklahoma. I hadn''t seen my dad since Morgan''s funeral. She was always his favorite. John checked out after she died.


    He had found himself a replacement family, a wife, a daughter, and a son. I liked them all right away. Much more than I like my father. I don''t dislike him. I kind of ''nothing'' him, you know?


    Like, I used to hate him for abandoning us, for forgetting me. But as an adult, knowing him is different. I understand him better, having met his family. I don''t hate him because he''s a decent husband and father. Besides, he''s too pitiable to hate.


    That''s when I learned where I came from. My father''s story. His mother''s story. My Gramma Joy. One night we were outside looking at stars, and Gramma Joy told me her father was one of those Native American babies the government kidnapped and gave to white families. Her daddy was a Chocktaw, Chickasaw, Cherokee, Potawatomi, Southern Baptist Minister. Can you imagine? What a trip.


    Anyway, my Gramma Joy was born into this surreal and unfair world and was raped at a very young age. She thinks she initiated the act, but I don''t believe 8-year-olds have the agency to make those kinds of decisions.


    You''re probably appalled, and rightly so, but similar stories are all too common among Indigenous girls and women. It''s an extension of the war the United States has waged against Native Americans since Plymouth Rock. The genocide continues today, every day.


    Indigenous people aren''t viewed as people by the wider/Whiter society. In the eyes of a White man, Native Americans are all gone. They''re more comfortably regarded as cartoon mascots.


    Or wood elf flower children that inexplicably fall in love with White men.


    Or they''re "Mexicans."


    Or they''re myths posers tell people to sound deep or morally superior.


    "The Native Americans used to believe blah-blah-blah about blah-blah."


    Oh? What tribe? "Used to." Did they stop believing it, or were they wiped out? And if the latter, how do you claim to know their myths?


    Anyway, Joy was 12 when she got pregnant with my father, which, as you can imagine, was super embarrassing for the Southern Baptist Minister. Abortion was unthinkable, so Joy was given an ultimatum: she could get married immediately, so the baby wouldn''t be born a bastard, or she could go away for 9 months and come home with a brand new baby brother.


    Joy opted for marriage. Not surprisingly, any man who would marry a 12-year-old is a creep. He abused Joy and their children together for 8 years before Joy abandoned her family and drove to California.


    But before she left, she told young John that the man he thought was his father wasn''t his father.


    When he asked who his real father was, Joy said, "Get a pen and paper. I''ll give you a list of a hundred names. Take your pick."


    Then she abandoned him for California.


    As soon as John was old enough, he joined the Air Force, traveled the world, got stationed in California, and met Patsy.


    She was 30. He was 22. Their marriage lasted 8 years.


    When Patsy divorced John, she got full custody because he could never pay child support. Instead, he visited when it suited him, until Morgan died, and then it didn''t suit him anymore.


    I used to wonder how John could be such a devoted husband and father to someone else. Then I met his family, and I realized his new wife was a nice person. Controlling, yes, like my mother, like Tandy, but John''s new wife was fair, hardworking, and considerate. That''s why he left us. Because Patsy was none of those things. So I couldn''t resent John for abandoning us. In a way, I did the same thing to Jude.

 Chapter 19 - Love During Wartime

    Chapter 19 - Love During Wartime


    At the entrance of a secluded grotto, deep in the jungle, surrounded by signs of life, Rowan faded in and out of consciousness, unable to dream.


    Samaal already lost a lot of blood. Screaming in horror and agony, he summoned hard shadows to put pressure on the gushing stumps that moments ago ended in feet. Then he went into shock and passed out.


    Fortunately for the immortals, Hinata was skilled enough to provide basic care, applying tourniquets and bandages to Samaal''s legs, and sliding a large, flat stone underneath, elevating the legs above his heart. Then Hinata carefully lifted Samaal''s head and poured infused water into his mouth.


    Rowan''s was a more challenging case. Since their body was a manifestation of magic and willpower, total loss of consciousness meant Rowan''s body quickly disintegrated into a living, sleeping firefox.


    That meant Hinata had to clear the surrounding area of brush and put out fires every few minutes. It took hours of careful work, but Hinata cleared the area around Rowan such that a jungle fire never started.


    But Rowan''s foxfire diminished with every passing minute. Maintaining their true form depleted mana rapidly, and without help soon, Rowan would surely die.


    So Hinata stacked dry wood near and around Rowan''s foxfire, and a circle of stones around the wood, creating one enormous bonfire pit. The radiant heat and energy seemed to stave off further shrinkage. Rowan was stable.


    After hours of painstaking work, Hinata collapsed against a stone. Then they remembered the water canteen was empty. With a heavy sigh, Hinata stood back up and walked away to replenish their supplies.


    Samaal woke from bright nightmares of golden blades to see Rowan for the first time as their true self, a marvelous creature made of no ordinary fire, but bright and colorful flames. And in their chest, a flaming ingot of curious liquid minerals, like mercury.


    The adamkin must have erected the pyre surrounding Rowan. The burning logs obscured his view, so he tried to sit up and move nearer.


    Then with a throbbing ache, he felt and remembered and saw what happened to him. He blankly stared at the bloody wraps around his stump legs for a long time, unable to process anything. It wasn''t disbelief because the stumps were plain as day by Rowan''s firelight, but unfamiliar emotions like grief and fear invaded Samaal''s mind for the first time in his long, isolated life. He trembled, then shook his head to try and clear his mind.


    Where were the cainkin? Before the attack on Church, he had ordered them all to wait and guard this location. Dumb and unreliable were Cain''s children. They probably went chasing after birds. Nevermind. He closed his eyes and ordered them back to camp.


    And where was the adamkin? They must have bandaged his legs, as well. Then they just abandoned us!? he wondered furiously. Anger motivated him to conjure shadows beneath him, lifting his body to be nearer Rowan.


    Gazing into Rowan''s incredible flames, a sense of wondrous peace came over him, something primal and entirely new to him. He forgot himself and his plans and his problems, and he simply witnessed Rowan''s awesome beauty: their many tails, their large fox-like form, the crisp and colorful flames: reds and blues and greens and whites, and every shade in between. Rowan was, without contest, the most magnificent creature Samaal had ever seen.


    A fierce desire to protect Rowan took root in him, another powerful emotion he had never felt before, having lived all his long life with Mommy and Cain and their irritating children.


    Samaal had never truly cared about anyone before except Mommy. She was his world. But after battling side-by-side with Rowan, and now watching them struggle to survive, everything else faded away. Rowan had to survive. He needed them.


    Staring into the flames, Samaal became lost in thought, and time floated by.


    Before long, Hinata returned with provisions. The flying devils had also returned, watching eerily from atop nearby tree branches.


    "Where have you been?" demanded Samaal, distressed and angry.


    Hinata responded gently, sensing his fear and comforting him, "I needed to refill my canteen. You were unconscious for a long time. How are you feeling?"


    His tone and demeanor softened noticeably, and to Hinata, he looked less like an immortal demigod and more like a scared boy on the verge of tears.


    "I hurried back as fast as I could. And look, I brought firewood."


    With a disdainful wave of his hand, Samaal summoned a shadow blade to cleave a nearby tree into pieces.


    Over the sound of crashing branches and flying devils, he said, "Firewood won''t be enough. Look and see, Rowan is shrinking. They''re burning mana now. If they don''t get an infusion soon, their fire will go out, and they''ll cease to exist."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Hinata saw that he was right. Rowan was less than half the size they were when Hinata left for supplies; once larger than a bear, now the size of a large dog.


    "Is there anything we can do?" Hinata pleaded.


    Samaal pensively answered, "I don''t know. Maybe. What Rowan needs is to bathe in the mana-rich lava of Inari, but Adam obliterated the island and everyone on it, so Rowan has had to rely on mana infusions from willing humans. There''s a possibility I may be able to connect to Rowan''s molten heart and give them some of my mana."


    "Can I also give them mine?"


    He looked at Hinata with examining surprise. "You saved us both. Now you offer them your life supply. Why?"


    Hinata was struck by the question. Why, indeed? They considered it before answering.


    "I wasn''t doing anything special with my life before Rafael found me. I fished. I had friends and family. I wasn''t unhappy, but I knew the world was broken. I figured Eden was too big for me to fix, so I gave up. I focused on myself. I became independent and self-sufficient, because I knew the world couldn''t - wouldn''t help me or my family. I had to take care of myself alone. So I could take care of my parents, my little siblings, and my people. And I thought I was satisfied with that, but I wasn''t, not really. Because I felt powerless.


    "Adam takes whatever he wants. My people, my family, my home, and my culture; he took it all and destroyed what he didn''t like. I thought there was nothing I could do, but now I know the truth: my culture endures. Adam can be killed. Maybe you can free us all by killing him.


    "But to do that, you''re going to need Rowan. And besides, I owe them my life."


    Samaal was clearly affected by Hinata''s response, but his expressions were a mystery beyond Hinata''s ken to decipher.


    Quietly, he said, "Maybe... If you''re sure, then lie down. I''ll summon shadows to bridge our minds with Rowan''s."


    Hinata did as instructed. Samaal positioned himself with his head between Rowan and Hinata. Then two ghostly threads grew from Samaal''s forehead like slithering horns, extending to Hinata''s forehead and Rowan''s molten core.


    It was Hinata''s first time being awake in the dreamscape.


    Samaal was a master dreamer, having learned from the very best, so their surroundings were crisp and detailed: a blue-flame candle-lit room with granite walls and furniture with intricately carved abstract designs.


    He curiously regarded Hinata, remarking, "I''ve never dreamed with a human before. Mommy would be furious, but somehow that just makes it better."


    Hinata laughed hysterically. The absurdity of their environment, coupled with Samaal''s deadpan delivery, broke them.


    Samaal smiled, never having made a human laugh before, either, and finding it a surprisingly pleasant experience.


    He looked around, examining his dream room, and found a single flaming door.


    "Huh," said Samaal. "That might present an obstacle."


    Hinata turned to follow his gaze. "I take it Rowan''s mind is on the other side of that door?"


    "Mhm."


    "What happens if we open the door?"


    "I don''t know. I''ve never seen a flaming door in the dreamscape. Let''s find out." Samaal cast a shadow to open the door, but the flames burned his shadows to ash. "Tsk."


    Hinata, feeling empowered and bold after proving themself useful, and wanting to stay in Samaal''s good graces, marched forward, grabbed the door handle without hesitation, turned the knob quickly, and threw open the door.


    Flames exploded into the granite room, engulfing Hinata and Samaal and everything else, but instead of burning agony, the flames felt like a cool breeze against their skin.


    When the fiery winds relaxed to a gentle flow, Hinata turned, sheepishly smiling at Samaal, who looked annoyed and impressed.


    Then they both stepped forward into Rowan''s mind.


    Everything shifts. Three minds.


    Imagine home. Imagine Inari, with rivers of flowing lava. Imagine unique birds and reptiles and trees and flowers. Imagine walls and ceilings of cooled lava rock. Imagine a roof window with cascading light. Imagine home with pictures on the wall of friends and family, long since gone.


    Rowan collected their wandering thoughts and focused on the dream. Focus. There are visitors. Rowan looked up and saw home, in all its bittersweetness, as Samaal and Hinata stepped through the door.


    Rowan was elated to see them both, rising and rushing to embrace them dearly. Then they remembered the last thing they saw.


    "Your legs! What happened?"


    Samaal winced and said, "Don''t worry about that now. You need mana, or you''ll die. We''ve come to donate."


    The simple frankness with which he said it struck Rowan. Did he understand what such an act entailed? What it would cost?


    As if answering the unasked question, Samaal stepped forward and kissed them tenderly.


    A bed appeared behind them, and Samaal laid Rowan down upon it, beckoning Hinata with a glance and an open hand.


    Trembling, Hinata took his hand and knelt on the bed, nervous and eager, softly kissing Rowan''s neck and shoulder.


    The trio meditated carnal rituals, again and again, each time growing closer, giving more of themselves to one another until their very souls became entwined.


    They stayed in the dream for some time, and Rowan sensed a shift in Samaal''s behavior. He was sweeter, almost innocent. Was he falling in love for the first time? Rowan felt the intensity of his passion, and without him ever saying it, Rowan knew Samaal had given himself to them completely, heart, mind, and soul.


    Hinata, too, was a wonderful companion, generous of spirit, eager to satisfy, and happy to be involved.


    Rowan was rejuvenated, basking in carnal bliss, powerful and masterly.


    Everything shifts. A fourth mind made contact.


    Rowan and Samaal knew who it was before the door swung open.


    Lilith, nightmare and mother, lover and tyrant, prisoner and puppeteer, ageless beauty with eternal fury, standing at the threshold of Rowan''s dream, looking pissed.


    "This is how you''ve been waging our great conquest!?" Lilith accused.


    "Mommy, wait, Rowan was injured. This was the only way to save them," Samaal pleaded.


    Lilith backhanded him. "I have waited! And as I was waiting, while you were fucking around, an angel killed Rafael and trapped his soul!"


    Hinata crumbled. Rowan withered.


    Samaal fell to his knees. "I''m sorry! I didn''t know angels were involved. How can I fix this?"


    Lilith glowered. "It''s done. The Holy Ghost is lost to us now. But there still is a path to Adam. Get your asses to Moondial and prepare Morgan for her wedding. Adam will be on Crescent in a matter of days!"

 Chapter 20 - The Wedding - The End

    Chapter 20 - The Wedding


    Morgan opened her own eyes to blood everywhere. Her ears rang. Her room was wrecked. Her brother lay next to her, with empty eyes and surprise on his face.


    The injured cthulian crawled over to Raf. It reached a tentacle into his ear and pulled out a bizarre wiggling thing. Nustling it tenderly, the cthulian then crawled sideways to the balcony and jumped over the ledge.


    Morgan was in shock, too dazed to do anything but watch.


    Then she was alone, staring into her brother''s dead eyes. She sobbed. Finally, she reached over and shut his lids, resting her hand on his face, his sweet face.


    He saved her. Somehow. Azazel was gone.


    There was nothing left to do but rise and think.


    What will she do? She wasn''t free, not really.


    There was nowhere to run. Adam and Milo would come for her. And Lyn!


    Lyn was downstairs locked in her room! And Gramma Henri! What would become of them now?


    There was nowhere to run.


    She had to lie. Yes, that was it. Rowan taught her to lie. She would marry Milo and hide in plain sight.


    But what about Raf and the state of her room? Soon her handmaiden Brigit would be in to wake Morgan and help start her day. Morgan needed a damn good explanation before sunrise.


    She tried to think and plan, but she was still in shock.


    A knock on the door brought her back to reality. The sky was already a mess of pinks and blues. Another knock on the door. She sluggishly picked herself up.


    The door opened, and Milo Meiori let himself in, first looking petulant, then bewildered. His jaw dropped as he took in the bloody scene.


    Rage exploded in Morgan at the sight of Milo, but she took a slow breath and did her best Azazel impersonation.


    "Rafael is dead. Send in cleaners to take care of¡­ this."


    Milo blinked indignantly and shuffled his feet. "Well. I came to inform you Henrietta was suffocated last night while she slept. I won''t have you torturing that poor old woman. Thankfully, she didn''t live to see this ghastly sight."


    Morgan could barely understand the words Milo said. He had Gramma Henri killed? He¡­ She¡­


    Morgan''s heartbeat pounded in her ears. She reached inside herself to that strange place Azazel opened when it cast hard light, and Morgan summoned radiant spears to surround Milo Meiori and impale him in rapid succession. He gasped and coughed blood as the spears carried him across the room so Morgan could watch him die. Then she threw his body over the balcony, not unlike when Azazel threw Raf...


    Morgan woke up in a warm bath. She didn''t even remember falling asleep. Brigit was brushing Morgan''s hair and saying something from far away.


    What will Morgan do?


    What will Adam do when he finds out? If he finds out¡­


    What will she tell him?


    Morgan was supposed to marry Milo in a few days. What day was today?


    She was standing. Brigit was drying her off, then she helped Morgan into clothes. A dark dress and veil for modesty and grief. No jewelry. Easy shoes.


    A familiar voice broke through the spell Morgan was under.


    "Thank you, Brigit. Please alert Moondial''s groundskeepers and have them wait outside."


    "Yes, Captain."


    Morgan looked up to see Reynard, Rowan''s disguise. Captain Reynard was the face that trained Morgan to fight and survive.


    But that''s impossible. Rowan was dead. Could they truly have survived a spear to the chest?


    Morgan tore the veil off her face. The spacious bathroom came into focus.


    "Are you real?"


    After Brigit shut the door behind her, Rowan dropped the disguise and reverted to their firefox form, lithe, deadly, and familiar.


    "It''s me, Mo-mo. It''s me."


    Morgan stumbled and ran to embrace them and sob.


    "I''m sorry! I''m so, so sorry."


    "No, I''m sorry! I didn''t know about the fallen. I shouldn''t have left you."


    "What happened? How are you alive? I stabbed you."


    "Thanks to my new friends here, who you''ve met."


    Two figures stepped out of the shadows. One was dark and ageless and floating in a pillar of hard shadows. Morgan recalled painfully.


    The other was androgynous, young, and devastated, their face soaked with tears.


    Morgan examined the sad one, sensing a kinship. "Did you know Rafael?" she asked plainly.


    The sad one hiccuped and nodded. "I fished him out of the Snare two mornings ago. That set me on a path bringing me here."


    Morgan blinked and whispered, "You saved him? After the fall, it was you."


    She rushed to embrace the chainfisher that saved her brother, who freed Morgan from endless torment.


    "Who are you?" Morgan asked.


    "Hinata," they said, chuckling.


    "Samaal," said the ashen shadow man. "No hard feelings about cutting my legs off."


    Morgan sensed he had hard feelings.


    She looked back at Rowan. "What are we gonna do?"


    Rowan changed to appear as Milo Meiori, and Morgan almost attacked upon seeing Milo''s face again.


    "We get married," said Milo. "But first, we should go to Lyn. She''s had a rough time."


    Indeed Lyn was distraught.


    Lyn had broken almost everything in her room, her furniture, her toys; even the door was beginning to give way to her tiny ferocious fists.


    After several hours, she tired herself out and fell asleep on the floor.


    She woke up terribly hungry.


    Her head ached, and the lights were blinding. Lyn was too miserable to scream. Instead, she crawled under a table and cried weakly and inconsolably.


    That''s how Morgan and Rowan found her. They pulled her out from under the bed, but Lyn screamed in agony when the sunlight touched her.


    They tried to feed Lyn breakfast, but she vomited everything. Soon she couldn''t get out of bed.


    ''Blood,'' Lyn signed weakly. ''Thirsty.''


    Samaal recognized the symptoms at once. He took Morgan and Rowan aside, where Lyn wouldn''t be able to read their lips.


    "When you were possessed by the fallen, you collected a journal along with Lyn, correct?" he asked Morgan.


    She remembered and retrieved Kroeser''s journal from her pocket.


    To think, Azazel had figured out Kroeser was the Raven, and Morgan hadn''t. If only she had gone with her first instinct and beaten Kroeser to a pulp, Lyn wouldn''t be suffering.


    Morgan read the most recent entry aloud, which confirmed Samaal''s suspicions.


    "Lyn has inherited Cain''s curse. She needs to feed," he said flatly.


    Rowan and Morgan were reluctant to believe, but he slit his wrist to prove the point. Lyn woke to suckle Samaal''s arm like a babe at a tit. Samaal had to pry his hand away from the ravenous child by force. Already Lyn was remarkably strong.


    Lyn fell into her pillow and breathed deeply as color returned to her face. Then she sat up and smiled, waving happy hellos to Morgan and Rowan.


    Lyn''s recovery was miraculous, to Morgan''s horror and joy.


    But she was alive, and that''s what mattered. The rest could be figured out later.


    Morgan rushed forward to hug her little sister. Lyn was alive.


    Rowan was disturbed by the nature of Lyn''s recovery. The implications.


    The possibilities.


    But that would have to wait because the wedding was tomorrow.


    Adam Himself would soon arrive on Crescent to marry his loyal two subjects, Azazel the fallen, to Milo Meiori, Steward of the Vulpen Islands and traitor to his people.


    Morgan and Lyn had a few short days to share together, showing off their new magics and discovering a neat trick they could do when their powers combined.


    And they went over the plan. They knew the signal.


    Finally, the day arrived.


    The ceremony would be held in Church. The procession down the hill and through Harbor was the most humiliating experience of Morgan''s life.


    Morgan wore a flowing silk emerald wedding dress with a dark pink veil adorned with rose petals. She remained silent among countless guests and dignitaries, Stewards of the Vulpen Islands, who would all soon be answering to Milo Meiori.


    Rowan knew this would be a night to die for, relishing the role of Milo, traitor triumphant.


    Morgan never left "Milo''s" side, depending on him heavily throughout the day, but never looking directly at him, preserving the memory of his face as he was.


    In a grand open-air auditorium, an enormous mirror dominated the center stage of Church Grounds, so Godfather Adam could make an entrance, which He did with typical fanfare and thunderous applause from the clergy.


    Morgan was grateful that her veil concealed her expressions.


    The guests were seated.


    Godfather Adam addressed the crowd, speaking eloquent nonsense about loyalty and faith, and then He cued the music.


    "Milo Meiori" walked "Azazel the Fallen" down the aisle.


    Milo was the only person in the room who looked genuinely happy to be in attendance. Even his children looked glum.


    But Morgan''s entire life had been preparing for this moment.


    It was supposed to be Raf, she thought, silently crying behind her veil.


    Meanwhile, Rowan had obsessed over this moment for thirty years, Milo''s eyes wide with excitement.


    Their hearts pounded in their chests as they walked down the aisle, finally reaching the podium where Adam stood, resplendent as ever, adorned in all five Blessings. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    But Adam wasn''t wearing the dragon scale that Morgan described, which meant Rafael''s soul was trapped somewhere else, with someone else.


    What game are the angels playing? Rowan wondered and then tried to focus.


    This is it.


    Just a little bit longer.


    Wait for it¡­


    Adam was talking about marriage and fidelity, but Morgan''s heart beat so loudly in her ears she could barely hear his words. She tried to focus. Her veil would be lifted soon, and she needed to act like Azazel.


    "¡­ do you?"


    "I do," Milo said breathlessly.


    "... do you?"


    "I do," Morgan said in a flat monotone.


    "... I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."


    Milo lifted Morgan''s veil, and apart from the dried tear tracks, she looked appropriately bored.


    Milo leaned in to kiss her. Morgan froze, closed her eyes, and remembered the real Milo as the life left his face.


    Lips quickly touched, and then Milo turned to face Adam again.


    "Kneel," commanded Adam.


    Milo took a knee and looked up with excitement.


    Adam drew his Blessed Sword. He lowered the deadly instrument to tap Milo''s shoulder, dubbing him Steward of the Vulpen Islands.


    That was the moment.


    Not for millennia had there been a split second of such monumental significance. What followed would impact the future of every life on Eden and even beyond.


    Samaal struck. Using his shadow magic, he travelled through the ground and burst up from the shadows underneath Morgan''s dress, sending shadow blades to slice Adam into pieces.


    It happened so fast Adam didn''t have time to react, but He knew better than to leave Himself entirely vulnerable in such a public and ungodly corner of Eden. Most of Adam''s body was intangible, a power the metal feathers lining His Blessed Belt gifted Him.


    Consequently, most of the shadow blades drifted through Adam''s body like smoke, except for one. To tap Milo''s shoulder, Adam made tangible both His sword and the hand that held it, so one of Samaal''s shadow blades sliced Adam''s hand off at the wrist.


    Two Blessings fell, the Ivory Sword and Bone Gauntlet.


    In an instant, Samaal enveloped the Blessings in shadow and dashed behind Adam.


    A second that lasted an eternity passed as everyone processed what just happened. Adam looked at the bloody stump where His right hand used to be in dumb shock. Everyone was dead silent. The only sound made was the wet splash of Adam''s blood on the granite floor. Suddenly, He turned to face Samaal, who saw death in His eyes. Adam raised the Shell Gauntlet at Samaal.


    Rowan burst into fire and blasted flames at Adam''s face. It didn''t do Him any damage, but it did distract and infuriate Him, which was the point.


    Adam was fully intangible. Nothing they did could hurt him. They had already lost. But Samaal was so close to the mirror! He might still escape with the two Blessings and fight another day. And if Rowan died buying Samaal a few precious seconds, so be it.


    Adam turned in hate to obliterate Rowan, but Morgan wasn''t about to let that happen. She wrapped Rowan and herself in a hard light barrier and quickly pulled the barrier far away from Adam. As they flew up and backward, Morgan picked up Lyn and Hinata, securing them all in a bubble. Adam became unhinged. He screamed an insane screech and turned again to Samaal, who was already influencing the mirror with his shadow magic.


    Adam stumbled from blood loss but raised his left arm in time to throw a blast. Kinetic waves pulverized cracks into the granite floor and collided with Samaal and the mirror as he stepped through it. The blast threw him into the mirror. Samaal disappeared as the giant mirror shattered into pieces from the blast force.


    Everyone held their breath.


    Thinking quickly, Rowan instructed Lyn and Morgan to combine their magic. Using Morgan''s hard light constructs as a foundation, Lyn redirected the light waves around the bubble, rendering everyone inside it invisible.


    "Get us out of here," Rowan whispered to Morgan. "Can you carry us to Lona?"


    Morgan hesitated only an instant. Flying them all to the nearest island would be the longest use of her powers that she''d ever managed, but if she failed, they would all die, so she nodded once and flew them fast and far away.


    Adam, meanwhile, had snapped. In over six thousand years, He''d never been truly harmed before. He''d never seen His own blood pour out. He''d never felt the cold threat of His own mortality or known the frailty of His own heartbeat. He looked around at the grand auditorium, packed with His children. Hundreds of His children, who saw their Godfather bleed; who saw Him lose His holy relics; who saw Him fail; who saw Him fear death; who knew too much.


    He began to float, and as He floated, the Blessings in His Belt and left Gauntlet glowed horribly, and the stone beneath and around Him disintegrated, swirling into a molten hot ball in the air. Everything and everyone around Him, everywhere He looked, disintegrated to sand and mist.


    As the people in the audience realized what He was doing, they panicked and ran, but it wouldn''t matter. Adam waved his left arm, and the screaming stopped.


    When He was finished obliterating everything around Him, He gathered the dry particles and forced them into an enormous mass, molten hot from pressure and friction. Still floating midair, He molded the magma into the shape of a right hand and screamed in insane agony as the new molten prosthetic cauterized His bloody stump.


    He shivered and vomited. Taking a moment to recollect Himself, Adam stilled the molecules in His new arm, cooling it, settling the molten mass into a glorious diamond.


    Adam examined His new diamond hand, wiggled His fingers, touched His other hand, and made a fist.


    Finding it good, Adam returned to His task, that of genocide.


    He''d massacred His children countless times before. It should hardly affect Him so terribly, yet it did, every time, and this time more than ever.


    He cried in misery. He cried for His children He murdered, whose molecules now comprised His glorious hand. He looked up with tear-filled eyes of rage and hate and fear.


    His crown shined, and Adam erased any memory of the event from the aether. If anyone still lived to tell the world what He''d done¡­ The whole island would have to go, He decided finally.


    He rose higher, and as He rose, His destruction bloomed. The entire Island of Crescent was erased before the sun set.


    When He found His work was good, and no trace of Crescent remained, He flew away, dispersing the clouds with a bang as He broke the sound barrier.


    December 2011 - End


    Your parents weren''t happy in Oklahoma.


    The house John had offered was, in truth, a small room, in a small office, in a little podunk town, miles from nowhere. They had few modern comforts, and yet again, Jude refused to work. So did Tandy, for that matter.


    That was a source of tension because John could scarcely provide for himself, let alone anyone else. John worked as a massage therapist and beautician in the same office he let Jude and Tandy live in.


    Before long, Jude and Tandy left for Missouri to live with Tandy''s mother, but her mother was an addict, and Tandy was trying to stay clean, so then they traveled to Washington to live with Patsy in Gramma Nora''s house. That lasted a couple months before they both said, "screw this," and came back to San Francisco.


    By that time, I was bartending on weekends, taking classes at CCSF on weekdays, living life, and having mind-blowing sex. I had even started hosting murder mystery parties at the house.


    The three of us were the hottest power couple of the moment.


    The boys and I usually went out to drag bars on weekends. We went to game nights at Totally Awesome! and found a groove that worked for all three of us.


    Then Jude and his family came back into my life.


    I told him you could all stay in the living room for a month, but not more. Oliver was wonderful and patient about it. It was fun having a baby in the house. I babysat while your parents ran errands.


    Eventually, your parents found housing, but it didn''t last.


    Jude continued to spiral. One night he came over. We were hanging out, talking about whatever, and somehow Mom came up in conversation. Jude exploded. He screamed Patsy was an evil bitch who deserved to die. Then he punched doors and banged his head against walls until he ran out of the house and into the night. I thought he was using again.


    Now I know it was something else. Something I should have known years before, but Jude never told me, and I never imagined it.


    One day, Tandy showed up at my house. You were in a stroller. We sat in the living room, where you took your first steps between the furniture.


    "Where''s Jude?" I asked finally. "What brings you over?"


    Tandy hesitated. It wasn''t like her to be anxious, but I could see she was agitated.


    "Jude''s in jail. We lost our housing because they caught us drinking. Then Jude set their mailbox on fire. The cops came and arrested him. I ran away just before they could¡­ They''re gonna take my son from me." Tears filled her eyes.


    I didn''t respond at first. There was more that she wasn''t telling me, but I couldn''t force it out of her. "No, they''re not," I told her. "Because we won''t let them. You''re not responsible for Jude''s actions, and you can stay here for now. I''ll talk to the roommates and figure something out."


    She let out a full-body sigh of relief.


    "What the hell is going on with Jude? Why is he acting like this?" I demanded.


    Tandy looked away for a moment and then directly at me to say, "She fucked him."


    I was lost. "Huh?"


    "Your mom."


    "Fucked who?"


    "Jude. Your mom and Jude had sex."


    I stared at her for several seconds with a ringing in my ears. That''s absurd, I thought. No, they didn''t. Tandy must be making it up. But who would lie about something like that? And why? Why would Tandy lie? It didn''t make sense.


    "How do you know this?"


    "Jude told me."


    Again, I stared at her suspiciously, mouth agape.


    "I need to call my mom." I got up and left the room.


    At the time, Patsy and I were on speaking terms. I had forgiven her for her failings, her selfishness, her stupidity. I had forgiven her for failing me, Jude, and Morgan. She was a lazy, greedy narcissist, but I didn''t hold that against her anymore.


    So she answered when I called.


    "Hi, Sebastian! This is a nice surprise. What''s goin'' on?"


    "Hey, Mom. I have a question, and I just need an honest answer, okay?"


    "Okay¡­"


    "Did you and Jude have sex?"


    Dead silence for several seconds. Jesus Christ.


    "Where did you hear that?"


    "That''s not important. Did it happen?"


    Again, silence.


    "Sorta, kinda."


    "What does that mean, ''sorta, kinda?'' I need specifics."


    Irritated sigh. "How do you see this conversation ending, Sebastian?"


    "I dunno. Probably with us not speaking for a long time."


    She scoffed and hung up.


    I couldn''t move, sitting on my bed with the phone at my ear and a thousand-yard stare for I don''t know how long.


    When I finally walked out of my bedroom, it was like moving through a drunken daze or dense fog. Mundane things became important. Important things became mundane.


    Tandy was grateful to not carry the secret''s burden alone anymore. Meanwhile, I was wrecked emotionally, mentally, and even physically (I would break out in hives, acne, and allergies), but not for the first time, so I kept it together.


    Tandy and I talked for several hours. Then she asked me to watch you for a few weeks. She reasoned it would be easier to find a job and a place to live without a baby in tow. I said sure, and then she left you with me. Cops came and took you into Child Protective Services later that week. Tandy was arrested, and since you had no legal guardian, you fell into the foster system.


    I finally took stock of my life and realized I had made a mess of it.


    I was so preoccupied with boyfriends and trying to be popular that I had done nothing as my brother spiraled. Getting drunk every weekend. Picking up random hotties for orgies again and again and again. What was the point? Where did it bring me?


    Jude had been drowning, all while I was fucking the lifeguard.


    The people I had been chasing, their love and approval, it all left me empty.


    I got what I wanted. It cost me the only family I had left.


    I decided to adopt you.


    A public attorney was appointed to your case, a kind man named Matthew, and he helped me get visitation privileges. It took weeks. Government bureaucracy is always slow, and child settlement cases are particularly so, but I finally got to see you. Your foster mom was a wonderful Black woman who gave you big booby hugs. Our visits were supervised, but I saw you every week. You seemed happy.


    I''m sorry to say neither of your parents visited. I think they lost faith in themselves when they lost you. But Tandy had one last card to play. She called her father and asked for his help in getting you back. It didn''t work out the way she had hoped. Her father got custody of you.


    Sorry for spoiling, but you know how this story ends. Tandy''s father fought me for custody for over a year. We went to court so many times I lost count.


    Your CPS caseworker didn''t like me. CPS, in general thought, I was too young and too unconventional. Jude''s continuing erratic behavior didn''t help my image, either. They suspected I was secretly (or not so secretly, depending on your perspective) a fuck-up.


    I was naive to ever think I stood a chance. Tandy''s parents had been working the same job and living in the same house for as long as I''d been alive. I was a 22-year-old fag without a college degree, renting in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Of course, the judge made the conservative choice.


    But I wouldn''t know that for almost a year. So I changed myself and my life to better accommodate CPS and the courts. I stopped working at the Golden Cow and got a job working for Dante at Totally Awesome!


    Dante and I had reconnected over many, many games of Magic, so when he needed a new cashier, I stepped in. Turns out I love board games, and I''m pretty darn good at Magic: the Gathering. I spent more and more time at the store. Eventually, Dante and I began an affair.


    Oliver and August weren''t on board with fatherhood, and they both wanted to drop acid at Burning Man, so I broke up with them and moved in with Dante, figuring a traditional dyad with a business owner might present a more compelling family picture.


    It took months to get Dante over to my way of thinking, but eventually, we earned unsupervised weekend stayovers, converting Dante''s guest room into a nursery. A CPS worker came and inspected the apartment and gave us the go-ahead, and for the last couple months, you lived with us in our home. I''d never been happier. I really believed it was possible that I could salvage a family from all the pain and loss, but I failed. I failed you. I failed Jude. It eats at me constantly, like grief. I am so sorry.


    At the final placement hearing, Jude showed up late. He was disruptive, and his testimony was incomprehensible. It didn''t help my case that I was sitting behind him.


    The judge ruled you would be sent to Missouri to live with Tandy''s parents.


    Jude couldn''t understand the ruling. He had decided he would get custody of you. His testimony was quite certain on that point. So it came as rather a shock to him when things didn''t work out that way.


    I bought him a burrito after court.


    I told him I love him.


    I told him it wasn''t his fault.


    I didn''t ask questions because I already knew everything I needed to know.


    He was a minor.


    She was giving him mind-altering substances.


    I told him it wasn''t his fault.


    I told him I love him.


    I told him I will always have his back, no matter what he does.


    But I''m angry.


    I''m angry he lied to me. I''m angry he didn''t trust me with this secret.


    I''m angry he abandoned you to the foster system.


    I''m angry he abandoned me by destroying himself.


    I told him I love him.


    I will always love him, no matter what.


    But I can''t save him. I can''t follow where he''s gone.


    I won''t devote my life trying to save someone from themself.


    He has to save himself.


    I told him I love him.


    And then I told him goodbye.


    I''m glossing over so much. Sorry but I don''t want to linger here.


    CPS came. I strapped you into their car seat and said goodbye. Just like I did for Connor and Carrie in Montana. And that was the last time I saw you.


    I stayed in bed for days after that. Dante and I fought. I don''t remember why or over what. But I left him, too. Just like I left countless people before him.


    And then I left San Francisco.


    I had changed everything about myself to try to be a father, and when I couldn''t be that anymore, I didn''t know who I was. I couldn''t go back to the man I''d been. That man was selfish. He was a failure. He let everyone down. I had to be someone new, somewhere else, and there was only one place I could think to go.


    With my suitcase in one hand and my spiral ring notebook in the other, I went to the San Francisco Greyhound Station and told the attendant, "I''m here to pick up a ticket to Oklahoma City."