Fixed and Consequent

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 35, Eighteen Four

Easter, well, before Easter, I volunteered to do some teaching. Mentoring, really, they brought the older kids in and I showed them basic scientific processes. On Peeps.

It was a lot of fun. Some of the kids didn?t know what Peeps were at all, and I froze them, put them in a vacuum, we dissolved them, microwaved them, burned them, squished them, dissected them. It?s remarkable how much ground you can cover when your test subject is marshmallow fluff.

The disturbing thing is that not even hydrochloric acid dissolves Peep eyes. We dropped one in, watched it melt, and then there, floating in the liquid as if baneful accusations from beyond the package, were two Peep eyes.

I also made sure to tell Fern that I was going to have the kids experimenting on chicks and bunnies, kind of an object lesson for them that at any point in time, psychotic activists could rush into your lab to liberate the Peeps.

Fern was madder than hell at me, I laughed myself sick once she?d stormed out of there.

Then we made hats and baskets with Peeps and other candies for decorations, they took Fern one, and more home for their families. I made a hat for Zane, she loved it. Cam brought by Easter baskets, too, for the kids. I think Feathyre was the only one in the child care team who wasn?t worn to a frazzle.

I took Feathyre along with me to Alices birthday party, which is always Easter whether it is or not. I wasn?t feeling very well, I remember, I just curled up in the parlor and napped a lot. Feathyre, or rather, Fallon, had a great time, but that would be the last time anyone saw Fallon.

I?m not quite sure of the circumstances, but it seemed to have to do with the boy she thought was her boyfriend. In any case, she cut herself off from the spell that changes her back and forth.

Personally, I think it?s a good idea, because she still wants so much to be a girlfriend that she would place herself into bad situations. And this guy seemed to only want her as a girlfriend when he couldn?t find anyone better.

When she?s more emotionally mature, I think she?ll do better about it. Not be so quick to trust, or so fast to throw everything she?s got at someone. She?ll have more time seeing how Jackie dates several guys for fun, and Cam the same, getting to know them. That it takes time and trust.

I think most people would call it a bad move, a step back and all, but you know, she?s got to learn to love herself, and she?s not going to do that with a lot of guys around her that think with their dicks and worse.

Worse being the women who are under the impression that talking to a man for an hour constitutes love, and sex is better than marriage. If someone ever told me I?d see women like that before I came here, I?d laugh.

I?d laugh now, but it?s too scary.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 36, Eighteen Four

You never really know who you?ll see around here, I mean, Richard Halliburton seems to have retired to a nice castle and family life here, after all. Not to mention all the jedis and elves and what have you.

But still, it was a little strange to see Jareth. The goblin king. Really strange to see him here, working, as it were. I still don?t quite understand that. The people here have set their feet onto entirely different paths.

They may need the self realization more than any other, but they?ve removed themselves from the shock factor of something like Jareth appearing randomly before them.

Mom?s dealt with him, she says it?s a pain in the ass. He commands his realm entire, of course, and forgets that he has no command at all over those beyond his. Which is probably why she?s had to deal with him, cleaning up the difficulties and restoring order.

Even Mom does very little here in RhyDin. She doesn?t have to. She doesn?t have to do anything except what she wants, so it?s something like being on vacation. Of course, she still ends up balancing everything she does out, which is funny when you point it out to her.

Jareth doesn?t seem to balance what he?s done, he simply pays for the priveledge of messing with someones? life. Perhaps that?s the point. He doesn?t have to even anything up, just make sure he gives adequet compensation.

That?s usually a wish, which I think is kind of cheating. Wishes are more of a burden than a gift. You practically have to have a degree in metaphysical law to use one in the manner you intend. Only wishes given to children are ever clean.

Then again, that?s really the easiest way to use a wish. To amend that you want it to occur as you intend. A little sloppy, but you?re not spending the next two years detailing the particulars.

Anyhow, Cam was in a mood, dealing with Mr. Mullet, as she calls him, which is hilarious since he doesn?t know what a mullet is outside of a fish. The next thing I knew, she?d agreed to run the labyrinth. I could have screamed.

There wasn?t anything I could do, and I can?t do things like that. There?s that whole employees and families of employees clause, which I?m sure can be gotten around, but I really don?t want to end up with anyone holding anything like that over me.

Everything was unravelling, too. Cam and Jace got into a horrible fight after they came back from a vacation in Greece, they both left the house, and gave me the keys.

Zane was spending more time with Zip, and it was odd. On the one hand, she seemed more alive than I?d seen her in a long while, and on the other, he was making her mad a lot.

Cam had taken me to where she used to work, in New Orleans, to meet her former employer, Adriana. She?s a bruja, well, not a bruja, a voudoun priestess. She made me some medicine bags, gris-gris, and sent one that I could take apart and see how she had made it.

It was all to keep an eye on me while Cam was gone, which was nice. It was because of the dragon and hell hounds, I think. A big albino red dragon kept showing up almost every night, mainly to fight with Dillon.

That got old really fast. I stopped and tried to communicate with Llyluna, which encouraged Dillon to try the same, but he has some weird grudge against dragons. I didn?t ask. It?s just annoying that they insist on fighting right in front of the tavern where people are trying to wind down.

Then the hell hound started showing up, which was fine until people started feeding the stupid thing and encouraging it to come onto the porch. I?m not really thrilled with the damn dog-acting wolf that hangs around, I drew the line at the hell hound playing pretty puppy on the porch.

It amazes me that some people think it?s so fun to have some sort of huge altercation night after night after night. It?s tiring, and annoying. It really is. It?s back to the fable of the fox and the lion, except the contempt bred in this case is honest to goodness contempt.

The first time, you?re frightened. The two millionth time, you just wish the horrible monster would put a cork in it, get a drink, and get the hell over themself. Yes, yes, yes, we GET IT. You?re a horrible evil soul scavenging MONSTER. Wow.

You?d think they?d get a job as a dentist or a lawyer if they really wanted to be unendingly scary.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 37, Eighteen Four

I sat and talked with Zip one night. It was interesting. Strange. I don?t think he?s as good a liar as he thinks he is. There?s psychosis on top of psychosis there, but he commands them all. They serve him, he doesn?t serve them.

He asked, very bitter, if I was hoping to get his sad lifes? tale, and I said no. I didn?t really think I needed it. Everything is written out over him as easily as if he?d scrawled it in black ink. I wondered what he?d be like if it was ever worth more to him to overcome what gnaws on him.

What could have been hovers over all of us, I suppose. Sometimes, it?s not all that different. He?s not all that thrilled to be a vampire, but isn?t running around in torment over it. He knows how to stop it, but like the rest, it?s not worth it. Now, or yet, or maybe ever.

I just hope he realizes that everything he does for himself has to be for himself, and not to please someone else.

He?s hurting. A lot. He said, the bad guy never gets the girl, Des, don?t you know that? And I said, my dad did. He said you?re dad?s lucky, and I said, my mom?s not much of good girl.

I made him mad, too, but he didn?t hurt me. He could have, but he didn?t. He stopped himself. I wonder if he realizes that he did that. And why. Because he thinks I?m an okay person, or because of Zane or what. I know he can?t see very much in common with me.

It was all strange. Zip wants to off Alec. But not for being in his way, not even really for revenge for Zane. It seems to be for her. For him. Because then she would hate him, and he thinks she should hate him.

He doesn?t want her to hate him, though.

Betrayal seems to be the only thing he expects of anyone, and still will almost apathetically let them in. He let me in. I don?t know if he connects that I could betray him as well or if he doesn?t see it in me. I wouldn?t, not willingly, but that?s only so long as I?m not betrayed.

It?s something of a two way street. I try to make people think I?m harmless, I even try to be harmless. If someone else wants to stand up for me, by all means.

Roulette showed up. Great Spirits. If ever there was someone that hasn?t decided what she?s supposed to be, there she is. Stoned, drunk, but has a radio station to run, hysterically pawing at men but doesn?t want to be touched, sweet and kind and mean and aloof. Oh, yes, and she?s a singer just like Cam.

I figured the cosmetic surgeons downtown had been busy again.

This girl was something else to watch. Within hours, she was utterly in love with Zip, who was not exactly what I?d call kind or loving to her. Then she was pawing over Dillon. One night, she was so bad, I really felt like yelling ?would someone please fuck Roulette before she explodes??

Cam would have killed me, but then again, she might have laughed. It was irritating her, too.

I tried to explain to Roulette that Zip was dangerous -- that was the fascinating thing. She had no idea this man was dangerous. Or that he could ever possibly hurt her.

Yet despite that, she insisted she wasn?t a victim waiting to happen. Insisted wide eyed and earnest that she didn?t just let anyone touch her. No, first she talks to them for about an hour. I scared her, I think I made my point that even the mildest mannered and sweetest person here wasn?t to be trusted within moments.

It didn?t do any good, a week later, she spends another few hours talking to another man and off she goes with him.

And again is stunned and heartbroken that he hasn?t rearranged his life to hers. She seemed too intelligent to be so stupid, but there it is. If it wasn?t for the fact that there were something like a half dozen of the same girl running around at the same time, I would have felt sorry for her.

She didn?t seem to believe me when I pointed out that she was running around like a sex crazed ...Rhydinian, and well, then she realized she was, maybe. I haven?t seen her since. Who knows, maybe she?s dead, that wouldn?t surprise me with as careless and easily swayed as she is.

She started complaining to me about I don?t know what she goes through and she hears and sees all the death and bad things, and I really wanted to laugh. We all do. Some more intimately than others.

It didn?t stop me from finding her annoying. Why would it? I would be more impressed if she realized that she had a gift or curse and turned to reliable sources to learn to control or use it. They never do. It?s like being disabled and then not doing all you can do to grow anyhow.

She?s not disabled, but she disabled herself, and continues to do so. It?s not sad, it?s disgusting.

I see all those things too, and I know how to make them work. Running around crying about it certainly doesn?t fix anything.

I started singing ?The Hell Of It? by Paul Williams to Zip when we were talking, and had mentioned Roulettes crush on him, and I thought he was going to keel over laughing.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 38, Eighteen Four


More work on the house, but it answers fewer and asks more questions with every speck of dust cleared away. I like the house, it seems glad of me, I like the work, but there?s just... I don?t know. So much nagging at me every time I start in cleaning.

Cam has found odd bits of mismatched jewelry sweeping, and I know I?d swept where she had before. Ladies earrings, mainly. Never a set. Pearls and diamonds in gold or platinum. I never find those. I just put them into an old jewelry box that was in the second bedroom.

I made over that for guests, finally. It?s nice. Romantic, I suppose. It?s a lot lighter than my room. I?ve gone over the furniture, it was all in good shape and didn?t need to be refinished or anything, just stripped of the old wax, cleaned, and polished again.

I didn?t find any cubbies or compartments, though, which is very strange. I could see where they might have been cut, but there were none. The desk in the study, though, I don?t think I?ll find all of its cubbies until I take it apart. It?s massive, and so far, I?ve found seven hidden spaces.

People hide odd things, and that?s what I?ve found in the desk. Odd things. A man seems to have been the last owner. There was one hell of a collection of rather torrid love letters from at least a dozen different women. Shockingly torrid, considering their age. Or maybe not, some eras were a lot more open sexually than others. I know they?re over a hundred years old.

A lot of money, paper, in different denominations and currancies. I know the English pound on sight, and the date puts it at around the early 1800s. Only a few American notes, drawn on a gold reserve. Everything else, well, it?s various script from most of Europe.

They were morticians here, and they were tending the cemetary, so I suppose it was payment. I just don?t understand how it would come to be secreted in the desk, unless the banks weren?t reliable then.

Locks of hair, I had to cast preservation spells on them the moment I realized them. They were neatly sorted in a tin case. That was very strange. All I can figure is that the man was a hell of a player. None were braided or even long enough to make into mourning jewelry, so it couldn?t have been an example of a local braiders work.

Two vials. One of cocaine, and another of a chemical I haven?t identified yet. It seems to be a sort of hypnotic. Keys, loose, that don?t go to anything in the house that I?ve found. Probably safe deposit boxes or something. And a condom. I think it?s a condom, anyhow. It?s a gut pouch with a pink ribbon drawstring on the open end. It looks kind of short, I guess. Well, it?s about six inches long.

Really makes you glad latex was invented, though I admit my only experience with condoms is buying a box to inflate and slowly waft through Jackies? first sophisticated cocktail party thing. I thought she was going to choke, and kill me, but the party had been so dull up till I started flying them through that they all started laughing and everyone lightened up and had fun.

Zane came over to help rebuild one of the fireplaces. A black... brick, I guess, was shoved into the draft. It?s just that. The size of a brick, a rectangle, and I can?t really tell if it?s a block of ebony or jet. It?s plain, no seams, nothing. I thought it might be a puzzle box, but if it is, it?s beat me pretty well. I think I?ll bring it into the lab and do more than just fool with it.

I finally woke the old willow by the pond. I was really getting worried, and it seems so ironic how concerned I was now. Mid spring, and she still hadn?t leafed out, and the whisps told me that the casket the willow was buried over was getting pushed into the pond.

It took me weeks to wake her. The day I did, I was out there at least six hours straight, praying, pulling a spell to channel life energy into her. I was exhausted. And what does she do? Cuts me hip to shoulder with a branchlet. I wonder if she wouldn?t have just beaten me to death right then and there if it hadn?t been for Ogopini and Gus.

It?s so frustrating. She?s around two hundred, and I tell people, oh, she?s old and cranky, but that?s not really old for a willow. She doesn?t remember much, which is strange, so it is like she?s extremely old. The ghosts say that she hasn?t leafed out well in at least a century. She didn?t even seem to remember that she?d been planted to mark the grave she?s over.

I just hope I can get her settled down and talking.

Zane also helped me open up more of the green house. I?d planted vegetables early, where I could get in, because it?s sort of crushed under its own weight, and with panels of glass missing, it couldn?t melt the snow off of it during the winter. It?s all cast iron and glass, and Zane?s pretty confident that once we get the supports straight, and reinforce them, and replace the missing glass, it?ll do fine. I hope so, it?s really beautiful... Or, it was.

I guess a few shield spells would do it, but I don?t really want to. First off, I just don?t know what a lot of magic would do contacting the iron and wood around here, not to mention stone. They all hold impression too well. Plus all of the deceased, of course.

I just want to do it with my hands. I can do it. I know how. I?m strong. It just feels more right. I know people think that?s strange, and there?s no chance that the realities are going to run out of power, but it?s not a good idea to just go throwing around magic or technology like a drunken prom queen. Not without knowing all the variables.

It just seems more real. More mine.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 39, Eighteen Four

The Halliburtons have dragons. Two adults, Penn and Saxon, a little silver one, and a wyvern. I could just imagine Dad taking one look and just losing it. That mage that took him from California in the first place commanded a flight of wyverns, after all. Not to mention managed to trick Dad into going toe to toe with the dragon that bit him in half.

I imagine that took a lot of getting over, but at the time, well, he could. I mean, technically, he is a necromancer, but not one like I?ve ever seen before. After the car crash that killed him, he just did it.

That was strange, too. The steering column went through his chest, and the car wasn?t discovered for days. He was dead. He did die. But his soul refused to leave his body. Instead, when he got command of his senses again, he pulled himself off of the column and walked home.

His father was a mortician, I can?t imagine that he didn?t know. He must have. That?s when Tombs started. Maybe he was a stray spirit that infested Dad that day, maybe it was just the fracturing of his mind after the rough shrift of childhood Dad had.

I mean, after all that, all that hell with his aunt, and he was finally starting to grow past it, finally away from her, finally able to begin his life... And it was over. Just like that. I could imagine well his mind rebelling, his soul refusing to let go.

Sometimes, I?m afraid something like that would happen to me, too, but I wouldn?t have the strength of will to hang on. Or my mind might splinter. My mind might splinter.

I don?t remember what I was writing about.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 40, Eighteen Four

The Halliburtons have dragons. Two adults, Saxon and Penn, they?re the old keystones. Oz, he?s a baby silver dragon that Sin found and gave to them. An egg, that has twins in it. They?re healthy and they seem to realize that they?ve been saved to be given back to their own even in the egg. And Micah, or MK, the wyvern that Penn and Saxon adopted.

I come over now and then to play with Oz. He?s really sweet, he?s little more than a baby. Sometimes Penn will ask me to watch him before he eats every sentient brat on the property, and I guess that?s me, too, but it always really... Touches me, I guess.

He trusts me with his beloved child. Me. Oz is a dragon, sure, but he?s only about three or four. Penn doesn?t worry about me watching him. He?s not concerned that I might keel over when I should be getting Oz out of some fix or another. I don?t know if that?s because Penn can keep tabs on us all even when he?s tired of us, or if he just trusts me.

Well. They had some sort of trouble at the castle. One of the towers had been locked up for a long time, and it finally got unlocked, and there were things in there that were trouble. So, Micah went scouting under those catacombs, I guess the ones under that tower don?t connect with the rest.

Micah said he?d smelled treasure, I remember that, but Micah?s not really that interested in treasure. He?s more interested in hunting down elf mages. I?m glad that doesn?t extend to human ones. But Penn, well, he is into treasure, and he went down to see for himself. And got stuck in a tunnel.

So Rick asked me to help get him out. The tower was really neat. There were old illusion spells everywhere, but all the triggers were gone. I guess they used to do more than just hide things, but Rick said he ?unwove? them.

I guess he?s a mage, but I?ve never really seen that sort of a mage. Weaving and unweaving, and there?s more, but it just seems really big. That big and he?s usually just... Rick.

I really want to look around down there, but I don?t know if they?ll let me. Not alone, anyhow. We went through a wizards work shop, and I saw a lot of old books, but I couldn?t stop and look.

Penn?d gotten stuck way back in the catacombs, almost a half mile away from the castle, and before I could cast a spell to shrink him down, Rick insisted on drawing a big happy face on Penns? butt.

I thought that was kind of weird, but it was funny, and then he and Paige started arguing because she thought he said she was fat, but he just told me to go squeeze under Penn because I was skinny. Pregnant women are pretty scary, all said.

Anyhow, I squeezed up there anyhow, as far as I could, which was under Penns? wings, up on his back. I never, ever, EVER want to go under a dragons hind leg again. Ever. Just... It was so wrong.

They kept on yelling, and Penn was squawlling and scrabbling, and I found a loose scale, so I pulled if off. It?s really pretty. Rick finally told me to cast the spell and I reminded them that dragons can be difficult to bespell.

Which they are, of course, and that had me so preoccupied that I didn?t stop to think where I was. Which was squeezed between Penns? back, his wings, and the roof of the tunnel. So the spell went off perfectly, but then there wasn?t anything holding me up, the spell wasn?t quite finished, and I?m falling, Penn?s little, and it bounced off of him and hit Paige.

I swear I am never ever casting another spell around that woman again. My nerves can?t take it. I bellyflopped on the ground, and Penn pounces me, furious, while Rick is telling me in that hideous calm ?Dad voice? to get up and change Paige back. I don?t know why I didn?t faint or throw up.

But then Rick starts laughing. I guess over the irony of her complaining about being big and fat and now she?s the size of a Barbie doll. I mean, sure, it?s funny now, but at the time... Spirits.

I got up, and looked up. Penn had bashed a few holes in the tunnel, it was pretty shallow there, you could see out to the sky and the forest. With Rick and Paige, you usually have to wait a little while between anything happening because they?ll start squabbling or teasing... I guess they?re a lot like my parents, really, except they don?t speak Italian.

Rick was chasing Paige around with his camera, though, and I looked up in time to see these... Intestines with toothed mouths just... fall on me. I freaked, I didn?t know what they were, but I lashed out and I couldn?t get back to Rick and Paige because the rest of it dropped down.

It... Well, Rick said it was a manananggal. That?s more than I wanted to know, it was the nastiest thing I?ve ever seen, and I?d just crawled past a set of dragon balls. I threw a scalpel into its eye and it just pulled it out and threw it back at me, hit me in the shoulder.

It was about five and a half feet tall, female, emaciated and gray, it had bat wings, yellow eyes, tusked teeth, and it had literally torn open its belly to expose the snake-intestines. I found out later that those intestine things were envenomed with a neurotoxin. I?m glad I cracked off the spell to blast them away from me.

Rick had his shotgun, but he couldn?t get a clear shot at it. The next thing I know, Penn?s swooping in with Paige on his back. Like a ...Barbie Dragon Rider of Pern playset, except Pern didn?t have red dragons.

I cast another spell at the manananggal, but I had to aim low, and it cut the stupid thing in half, and that didn?t slow it down! The top half just goes merrily chasing after Penn and Paige, and the bottom half comes running at me!

The hell is with some of the freakshow things around here, anyhow?!

Anyhow, Rick suddenly yells ?Manananggal, we need salt or garlic!?, and okay, that?s something I can work with, instead of kicking at a set of legs. I grabbed the little container of powdered garlic I have, and threw some on the legs, and it just started to bubble. Which was awesome, but it stank like someone exploded an outhouse in a bad Italian restaurant.

I tossed the rest of the garlic to Penn, and they strafed the top half of the manananggal, and while it was flying around screeching, Rick made the little were-light he?d been using for light ...well, the light zipped after the manananggal and went off like ball lightning. It was really cool, but I was so close to fainting I couldn?t enjoy it. I guess I lost a lot of blood, but I also hadn?t ever cast that many spells at once.

And then I had to put Penn and Paige back to their right size. Once we got up to the surface, which wasn?t bad, there was a door and the hole in the cieling, of course. But I did it. I don?t know how, but I did it. I passed out right after that.

Then they kept me a few days in the castle and I was kind of afraid they were going to try and keep me, I siezed and though no one seemed scared, ...well, it?s alarming. And I do live alone. It?s true that I get hurt a lot and I do end up in bad and dangerous situations, but... I just want to be able to live alone.

I think they understood. They weren?t mad or anything.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 41, Eighteen Four

Sinjin, when I met him, seemed to be cracking into pieces that sort of fell behind him where they would. It doesn?t seem like his name at all, Sinjin. He?s Spanish, for one, and I don?t think Sinjin is. He didn?t seem to want to be in his own skin.

Everything was off about Sin really. He?s a vampire, a Ravnos, I think, he goes about in daylight a lot. One morning he came in and was happy because his sister had found him, but he was still crumbling away. Hollow, hurting, haunted. Like a termite got inside him and didn?t care he wasn?t wood. Or maybe he was.

Sometimes what he was would shine again. He seemed like he?d be someone in my family, really. Joyously lunitic and if you?re stupid enough to take happy for idiot, you get what you deserve when they tear your head off and stuff it where the sun doesn?t shine.

Metaphorically, of course. I mean, there was that one guy that kept ticking Mom off, but really, it?s usually metaphoric.

One morning, Sin explained it all to me. I think I was one of the first, or few, to ever ask him how he got to where he was. Why he was upset. From what other people who?d known him longer had said, they seemed to think he was crumbling because his former lover had left him for someone else.

I didn?t think so. I can?t really see anyone losing love falling apart that badly, especially not around here when love is as easy as smiling and winking. If someone?s going to collapse that badly over a lost love, there must have been something wrong before then.

It was a strange story Sin told me. He said that he had most of his family fail him, leave him to the streets. That one of his friends, who was a vampire, became that family.

Somewhere along the line, the friend no longer wanted to be a vampire.

That was really big, to me. I was astounded. I?ve only heard that so rarely. And never around here.

Whatever rite was prepared to restore the man to life required, essentially, a human sacrifice. Sin volunteered to be that. In the course of this rite, the friend would reclaim humanity and Sin would be cast into the vampiric. It would cost him his soul, essentially.

I wonder if the friend knew what he was asking Sin. Really understood. That?s a gift that?s past reckoning. That?s a gift that would make it?s own soul in its very giving.

Sin said something kind of like it was all for nothing, because the friend died a year later. I could have laughed, but I didn?t. A whole year, alive after being dead. Then being able to truly die. Sin didn?t realize what a tremendous gift either of those things are.

He made everything about it sound so off hand when it was so vast. I said maybe you didn?t really lose your soul. I don?t believe he did. Not after that. To offer that much, selflessly... I don?t think I could do it.

I offered to find a way back for him, to humanity, if he wanted it. He seemed more listless of life or death than anything, and that saddened me a lot. Sin just said that he wouldn?t want to give up some of the things he got with being a vampire, command of illusion, I think he said, and he could learn those things, too. I have.

It just seemed he just couldn?t care either way; like somehow, the astral line in him was snapped and hopes and dreams weren?t even a memory.

But it seemed to interest him, to go and find the pieces of his soul. It seemed logical to him that the cleric that traded his life for his friends would have thrown the pieces of soul to the sea. I told him the sea never takes anything away without bringing something back.

I told him I would help him. He found some strange old man on the beach that seemed to. That he spoke in riddles and sometimes he didn?t understand. I said fate likes to do that. We have to understand it before it can make sense, which seems horribly obvious, but... well. It is, I guess. Dorothy had to figure out for herself that she really did want to go home, after all.

It?s strange, but he seems so much more fragile than I am. Sometimes, I find myself wanting to try and protect him, but he?s older than I am, far more experienced, it would be sort of stupid to try and protect someone who is older and all that.

I don?t know. It?s like the steel he was forged of crystallized and is fracturing. I just hope he can gather it back up and remake it in the crucible. I just think the crucible will be soul, and I don?t know what he?ll need to temper the steel so it doesn?t crystallize again. Maybe acceptance. Maybe just finding real family.

[Desdenova]

[Interlude: The Club]

Light randomly sparked in the darkness. Adamatine from precious stone and sequin, sparkling from glittered skin, vivid in the draperies of satin. Smoke rose with the ethyl fumes of the drinks, sweat, perfume, cologne. Murmured voices, the occassional clairon cackling of the drunk woman, her lewd array of rubenesque contours in marabou and silk lounged at the bar.

Expectation and a cleared dance floor, all before the chrome of the Shure fifty five microphone. Only a glance given that took it all in, lowered to hands long, thin, pale adjusting the stand. A pause to remove a handkerchief, whiping away crimson lipstick smeared like a slack lovers kiss over cool silver.

She did that on purpose...

The guitarist swept a tonal blues note off of a tuning riff, pulled from the obediant SG, wailed through responsive Celestion speakers in their humming Marshall stack. The silence of analog, was no silence at all. It was the waiting electric hum growling over sixty cycles and waiting to rise in its own power.

A wolf whistle cut through the crowd. Who? Narrowed eyes with the abrupt cut of glare raised.

It had to be her. After silently thrusting the sleek midnight Armani suit at him, the rich red silk shirt, ignoring his horrified protests as she firmly took away the tie and opened the collar to the third button, it had to be.

Never realizing that the brooding glower under the falling black hair, the sullen posture, was as calculated as the smear of lipstick left on the microphone, he stepped directly into her orchestrations with the ease of a sessions musician. Caught in the rotation of lights as the sound crew warmed up, tall, thin, dark and seething.

Abrupt grace of a turn, stepping to the guitarist. Leaning slightly to murmur to the man, glancing up and over as the rest of the band set up, quieting the inevitable high spirited rolling of drums. Nods exchanged, laughter, a lone 'ah-right, man, do it' from the bassist, the spin of drumsticks over the dummers hands, rock grip, to point out the guitarist with a flourish.

Mellow spun arpeggio of the Hammond organ exhaled through powerful Leslies suggested introduction into the song list already agreed on, and held in key a thrumming undertone to a voice already thick silk, deep, and carrying a whip cut of acid humor.

"Sweet Camilla..." Sinful, knowing, sarcasm, it bought an appriciative response from the audience. And he waited, a slow birth of a smile, his head lowered, watching through the shrouds of his bangs. Until his teeth shone, the single dimple pressed into his cheek; and the catcalls and hoots faded.

Widened dark eyes, head tilting, mournful with that same silky cynicsm strolling through the warm baritone, well, he was supposed to open for her, yes.

"Sweet, sweet Camilla, she doesn't sing for you, she seduces you. She doesn't play the piano, she plays you. You all sit there under a spell she casts with every breath, every note, every sway of her hips..."

Sophisticates were up, howling, whistling, lavicious approval of the purring accusations and demands for the sorceress to cast her webs over their ardent wills.

"But I know her," warning of a phrase, spoken with a lift of his head, to show the flash of teeth over the concealment of the microphone, deaths' head grin verging on insanity of that familiarity. The final word, subtly accented with a flex of hand, pointing the cue to the guitarist.

Flames of tones, glittering malevolence in every chop of strum, discords of foreboding, the power of the opening of the song seemed to strike the slender youth. As if seeking support, a hand cupped around the microphone; as if turning a kiss of yearning carnality to the cool chrome, wide eyed in its insincerity, he sang.

"Raven hair and ruby lips
sparks fly from her finger tips
Echoed voices in the night
She's a restless spirit on an endless flight
Wooo hooo, witchy woman, see how high she flies
Woo hoo, witchy woman, she got the moon in her eyes."

Fingertips drew, incongruously sensual, upwards on the chomed microphone stand. As if describing the sweet arch of a white throat. Dark eyes slowly hooded, husky tones overlaying the composed purity of voice.

"She held me spellbound in the night
Dancing shadows and firelight
Crazy laughter in another room,
They say she drove herself to madness with a silver spoon
Wooo hooo, witchy woman, see how high she flies
Wooo hooo, witchy woman, she got the moon in her eyes."

Led away from the signiture riff of the song by the brilliance of Gibson crying for an erotic madness of music, the bridge was given its place. Hammond and drums held the piece together in sinister undertones, and he, it seemed pain twisted fine brows, turned a somber expression strangely sensuous in stress.

Melodic, but moaning all the same, following the wail of guitar in dark modulations, that silenced away at the pick up of coda, the restoration of melody to the end of the song. Breathless desire turned to frustration, anger, a voice like the gripping of strong hands on the inner flesh of the thighs.

"Well I know you wanna love her,
But let me tell ya brother,
She's been sleeping in the Devil's bed.
And there's some rumors going round someone's underground
She can lock you in the nighttime 'til your skin turns red
Wooo hooo, witchy woman, see how high she flies
Wooo hooo, witchy woman, she got the moon in her eyes."

Almost coy, all false innocence in the cocked tilt of his head, vulpine smile of the young coyote not quite snarling playing at his lips, and though the music played on over the raucous applause, it wasn't enough to drown out the renewed fervor when she stood to reveal herself at the sound board.

He knew that if sparks really could fly from her fingertips, she'd have electrocuted him where he stood. There was no locking him in the night time, but it was a depressing posibility that she would live up to her threat of locking him in her closet.

It was worth it.

(Witchy Woman, by the Eagles)

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 42, Eighteen Four

Alec came back. Again. He?s like a case of eczema. He goes away when faced with foils against him, and comes back once those things fade. Just like eczema, itching, ugly, and sneering.

I honestly think he came back this time because Zip and Zane were seeing a lot of each other. I guess they went swimming one night, and Zip let her know that he really wanted to do Alec in for all that he?d done to her.

Which was my fault. After I found out that Alec had come back after being ?dead? and went traipsing off like nothing happened with Nemo, I really didn?t know what to do. I needed to talk to someone that wasn?t a woman, because it just seemed that all Zane was saying was excuses. Maybe that?s not fair, but ...neither is anything that was done to her.

Rex was just too enamored of the thought that Zane was who he thought she was. Chris is great, but he?s culturally in his own... reality really. And Zip may be insane, but he controls it.

He thought I had told him about how Alec had almost killed and did maim Zane because I wanted a weapon, and Zip was a good one. I didn?t. Maybe after I first went looking, yes, I wanted that creep offed for good and all, but when I thought about it, I realized that it just wouldn?t be right.

So, I talked to Zip about it, and well, I knew then that I just couldn?t do anything but to watch and pray. Anyhow, months after that, Zane and Zip went swimming and they talked.

Zane came to me, very angry, because I had told all that to Zip. I?d been in very bad shape, Matilde got sick of me and turned me into a cat. Because cats sleep a lot. She had Nesbitt looking after me, but I finally snuck out of the shop and got as far as the tavern. It?s weird, Bess recognizes people no matter what form they?re in.

Anyhow, I was a cat, and then Zane had Tainy change me back again. I almost didn?t want her to. It was ...It was fun. I hate to admit it, but it was. A lot of fun. And I did catch up on sleep, and felt a lot better.

I explained everything to Zane, though, and she wasn?t mad. She just asked me to ask my questions of her first. I had, really, but she?s not another guy.

Zane said she wasn?t mad at me, she was mad at Zip, and then asked how I felt if Zip had killed Alec and then she?d killed Zip. I have rarely had occassion to be glad that I have partial mobia syndrome, but that was one of those times. I like Zip, sure, but he?s a vampire.

I think Zane realized that I would have been just fine with that, and she reminded me it would be hard on her. Well, that would bother me, I know. I think she gets put through enough with the living and quick dead.

I sometimes make her, all of my sisters sound like, these perfect womanly ideals. I guess that?s just nature of the beast. I love them as they are, warts and all, as it were, but the warts aren?t that bad that they would repell me, so I just accept them.

Zane isn?t perfect. She has a tendency to not notice things about people, she won?t willingly look past the facade, and she, too, will decide something of someone and be very shocked when that isn?t what is.

I think she?d be very appalled to learn of some of the things I?ve done. It doesn?t always stick in her mind, my disabilities. I have to remind her, sometimes, but that?s just memory.

I?m trying to tell myself that the wart Alec is doesn?t register as being disgusting enough to matter to Zane, but she doesn?t see him as being anything but perfect. Sure. A perfect parasite. And if you don?t give him everything and accept everything, he?ll go find another host body.

That irritates me the most about him. If you dare find something he?s done or said to be offensive, then you?re the bad guy. You?re not allowed to be doing something else, not allowed to have feelings, you?re not allowed to be anything but enchanted by his every move and word.

So that was the first time I really met him. Cam was still in Jareths? Labyrinth, I was exhausted and upset, and Zane let me half crawl into her lap and just held me. I wanted to cry, it was so nice to have someone I could trust put their arms around me and tell me it was okay. That?s how wretched that week was.

Then Alec and Nemo walk up, playing their usual grab ass games, and Alecs? greeting is ?putting moves on my woman, boy??.

I don?t know how Zane caught me, I really don?t. I was so upset, I couldn?t think straight. Or all I could think was now I was going to lose Zane because she had a boyfriend that wouldn?t tolerate me around or saw me as a rival, like I?d lost so many friends before.

Zane apologized, I don?t remember if Alec did or not. I know they thought I was acting stupid and overreacting. I just couldn?t take it any more. They spoke to Zane so disrespectfully and treated her worse, and I left.

Jareth had invited me to his realm. Since the door was open and he?s practically family, I went there. I think he thought I was going to try and rescue Cam or something, but she made the deal, I couldn?t interfere. I just wanted somewhere safe to be. Where they wouldn?t tell my parents how badly I was doing.

I just threw myself on his lap and cried. It felt like when Gisa told me Zane was hurt all over again, only that time, I couldn?t see her and everyone was pretending it was all right.

Like they kept saying Danny was all right and wouldn?t let us see him. And then he was gone, and we never saw him again.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 43, Eighteen Four

I like Jessica. A lot, I guess. She?s older, and all, but she?s really intelligent and she?s very controlled and strong. Sort of a crush, I suppose, Teddy says so. But it?s not like I want to go take her out or anything. I just like to talk to her.

She?s like Devin in ways. But Devin ...I don?t know. Sometimes, she seems like she?s a ghost who hasn?t removed her veil, but the loop of recurring events are affected at each passing by the people around her.

Jessica doesn?t like to be touched, either, and I wonder if it?s like me, because she?s had to tolerate so many strangers poking and prodding at her for her own good, and finally, she doesn?t have to accept it anymore, so she doesn?t. Because her manner is like that. That she is in control and fuck you, get away.

Jessica isn?t very friendly, she grunts a lot rather than to talk. She?s very sharp and sometimes very shining. Like a blade. She keeps a lot of razors in her skirt. It?s kind of like the sheaths I keep my scalpels in.

That?s kind of how I really got to know her better. Some schmuck kept nagging her. Insisting on trying to get to touch her. She socked him, and then, since he was a lot bigger, I offered her a scalpel to even things up. She smiled and cut him up really well.

She?s got a pretty smile. I was pleased that she gave me one. And it?s always nice to see someone who knows how to fight. The man wasn?t too mad about it, really, but he whined a lot that I gave Jessica the scalpel.

I brought Paige the chart that Rick commissioned for her, too. She smiles a lot more, but she has different smiles for different things and even people. It?s interesting, it?s almost it?s own language.

It?s nice because she?ll sit on the floor with me, and doesn?t think it?s strange that I do. It?s hard being so tall sometimes. You can?t hardly ever look anyone in the eye, and it?s always strange for me to be taller than someone that?s older than me.

There had been this trader coming by the tavern, he had all sorts of strange things. They said he was from Sigil or something, or at least, from one of the doors there. The desert. But he had a lot of really fascinating things.

Cam traded her earrings for a knife, it was really beautiful. He had these giant bugs that were like oxen, and they gave this green honey-slime, but Cam wouldn?t let me try it. I wanted one of the bugs, but I couldn?t take care of it, so I just let it go.

He had singing bugs, too, and beautiful parchment, and inks of several colors, as well as some beautiful pens. I usually have some of Ferns marijuana from her earlier genetic enhancements, so I was able to trade about a quarter ounce of that for some pens, inks, and parchments. I guess Fern was right when she said that Holy Weed always can come in handy. I just wonder what he thought if he loaded a pipe with it.

Kaitlynn, she?s kind of strange... Well, she?s pretty damn strange, actually, but she occassionally gives me gifts. I never really understand why. She gave me jeans and a shirt, and she gave me more pens and inks from the trader.

I don?t really understand why the jeans and shirt, I don?t wear jeans unless I?m working in the cemetary after all. I think it was because I?d said I can?t afford a lot of things, because I?m just starting out, and she thought I was destitute or something. Maybe she thought that I wear the same suit every day. I admit, they all look much alike, but they?re not the same one.

The inks and pens, I think it was because she saw me trading the marijuana, and thought I didn?t have any money. It was really because the man didn?t know what the money used here was, and he wanted to trade, not sell.

But, the inks are very beautifully colored, and I tested them to make sure they wouldn?t fade very soon. They hold color very well, but they?re slow to dry, which is a reasonable trade off.

So I made Paiges chart with those inks. Rick said use as many colors as I have, and I did, gold and silver and copper, too, and I?ve never drawn a chart like that, it was so vivid and bright. I took a photograph of it, I think it?s one of my best.

But I read it to Paige, and it was really interesting, just watching her face. You think everything is written there, but it?s not. She?s expressive without giving everything away, that?s neat. I?ve always wondered what it would be like to be that expressive, but I didn?t like the idea of telling the world what I?m thinking in doing it.

I guess I kind of like seeing how much my charts can mean to people. She has a pleased smile, but there?s different grades to that. That was one that had all sorts of things in it. It?s like Moms smiles. They?re all specific, and you can tell when they?re for family and when they?re for other people.

Paige let me feel the baby moving around, too. I know Mom hated it when people would just walk up and put their hand on her stomache when she was pregnant with Alice, and probably with me and Jackie, too, but I asked. I still remember so well when Mom was pregnant with Alice.

I?d rest against her and just feel Alice moving around. I would be so scared she?d be born with the same defects as I was, and that maybe we?d lose her, and I wanted to know her. And then I?d be jealous thinking that she?d be perfect, like Jackie, and I?d feel bad. Then I?d just be jealous because she was the new baby.

But mostly, I?d just lay there and feel her moving around and know I had a new sister almost here and Mom and Dad and Jackie and I were happy. Sometimes, it seemed like we even played little games. I?d touch by Moms navel, and soon enough, Alice would too. Jackie said I would follow her touches on Moms stomach, too.

Paige let me touch her stomach, though, and the baby was very big, and very healthy. She seemed to do the same thing, following touches, that made me laugh. I guess it?s just something babies do in utero, but it?s fun. It was nice to sit there and ...Just be family, I guess.

When they?re older, I mean, further along in gestation, you can hear them, too. It?s just this quiet song of growth, really. It reminds me of the song that my Aunt plays that she can?t play here. Unearthly beautiful and still earthly. Life while its in transition, I think. Coming or going.