A Second Generation Whateley Academy Tale

The World Knows Not

by

E. E. Nalley

 

Prologue

 

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

October 21^st, 2016
Penthouse, 1160 5thAve, NY, New York

“You'll visit us, won't you mistress?”

Freya smiled at the plaintive, longing tone of Deborah's voice. The first and strongest of her thralls, finessing her out of the high dollar escort service she had been the madam of had been child's play. Though, over the years, twisting her awe into absolute devotion had shown Freya she had the deep seated love of causing pain that is the earmark of a true sadist. Deborah was too useful to break, but twisting the knife in her mind had been the source of hours of delight. She cupped the older woman's cheek and pinched it. “Of course, I will Deborah!” she promised. “Your tears are the sweetest by far!”

The madam shook as if she was in sexual bliss at the thought of being tormented. Freya let some of her exemplar strength through into the pinch, causing the madam to pant. “And you had best keep everything moving smoothly here if you know what's good for you,” Freya said with a laugh and a smile that had far more menace than any cheap growl or threat.

“I swear, Goddess,” Deborah panted. “Just as you want it!”

Freya kissed her slave's forehead and rewarded her with a little pulse of her Brisengamen Effect that pulled a sigh of ecstasy from the older woman. It was the sigh of an addict given just a taste of their addiction that bound them stronger than any chain. “You may masturbate thinking of me every night and once a week you may climax.”

“Thank you, Goddess,” she whispered.

Freya pulled on her glove and patted the woman's cheek, reveling in the power she had over her. “Keep the whores productive, and alert me if we get any new client that needs my special attention.”

“Yes, Goddess, I will.”

Freya smiled as she took a final look out the window of her penthouse at the New York skyline. Last months set back had been frustrating, but Nicholas had been diligent finding a better access point to the caves on the Presidential Plateau. She hadn't in her wildest dreams imagined he'd be able to find a better site than Manor of Attire had been, but amazingly enough, not only had he found a house that should have an old mine of some kind on the grounds, but he'd managed to buy the Old Whateley Home Stead! Freya still remembered the stories that some of the girls had told about the fabled haunted house near the school. Nicholas had already been there for a month, overseeing the closing personally.

The cold blonde smiled to herself as another slave picked up her suitcases and brought them out before her as she strode the elevator. She'd miss New York, but things were in motion now that would need her personal attention, she couldn't afford another set back because she wasn't at hand in a critical time. Between the houses already dreadful local reputation, her own powers and the subtle work of the sorcerer her honey pot had managed to ensnare, no one would want to be anywhere near the most haunted house in Dunwich.

She swept into her private elevator and smiled. Soon, vengeance would be very, very sweet.

 

Sometimes I get to feelin'
I was back in the old days, long ago
When we were kids, when we were young
Things seemed so perfect, you know?
Queen, These Are The Days Of Our Lives

 

October 22, 2016
Berlin Mini-Storage, 82 Jericho Rd, Berlin, NH

The roll up door spun onto itself with a noisy clatter as Tansy's exemplar strength effortlessly lifted it, much to the delight of her children as light fell on the boxes, storage crates and odds and ends in the unit. With a little gasp of glee, Junior and Connie rushed forward to poke around while Stephen, who was a fastidious child, hung back, fearful of spiders. “Look! Here it is, mommy!” Connie yelled from one side, standing next to a wooden highchair. Tansy's eyes fell on it and misted just a bit as she remembered the memories of her lost lover about the object.

It was sturdy construction, of four rounded legs turned on a lathe, of solid maple wood with a seat and solid wood tray that locked onto the arm rests, lovingly smoothed and stained by hand. “Great grandpa made this?” Junior asked.

“That's right,” Tansy told him as she came up and ruffled his hair. “My mother's father's father, who is Stephen's name sake.”

“What does that mean?” asked Connie.

Tansy smiled at her daughter. “His name was Stephen William Amos, it's why we named your brother Stephen.”

“I thought he was named after Uncle Steve,” Junior declared, which widened Tansy's smile.

“Your Uncle Stephen is also named after him,” Tansy informed him as she picked up the solidly made highchair and carefully set it out in the sun next to their Transit van to clean off the cob webs. “He must have been quite a man,” she continued from her cleaning.

“You didn't know him, mommy?” asked Stephen from his seat on the bumper of the van.

“No sweetheart, he died before I was born,” she said as she stood from her cleaning to admire her work. “And speaking of names, maybe you all can help me name your new sister!”

“I thought Mommy's got big in the stomach?” Wyatt declared.

“Oh, I'll get big,” Tansy assured him. “But not for a while yet. And I'll always have room for all of you!”

Connie thought about that for a moment, hard enough that Wyatt heard her and turned to look at her. She started to open her mouth to give the thought voice, but he shook his head. Connie nodded as she watched her mother take the tray off the chair and gently load it into the back of the van. “How many babies are you gonna have, mommy?” asked Stephen.

Tansy knelt down to be on eye level with her youngest son. “I don't know, Stevie. How ever many Jesus sends us.”

“You're not mad at us?”

Tears welled up in Tansy's eyes as she gathered Stephen into her arms and hugged him. “Oh, Stevie, I'm not angry! Ya'll are the best things that ever happened to me!” Stephens arms wrapped around her neck and squeezed and she had to remember her exemplar strength to not hug him too tightly back.

“I was afraid you were having another baby because you were mad at us!” he cried and Tansy just hugged him a bit tighter.

“No, Stevie, not at all! I will always love you and your brother and sister!” She smiled at her son and fished a tissue from her purse to dry his tears and her own as Stephen very quickly tried to put on a brave face as if he hadn't just been crying. Tansy laughed through her heartache and kissed his cheek, letting just a bit of her power help him feel safe and loved.

“Mom, what's this?” Junior's voice brought Tansy from her youngest son's insecurity to find Junior and Connie were standing before a manikin in the back corner of the unit the dust sheet that had been covering it in his hands. She effortlessly picked up Stephen and carried him into the storage unit, tickling him as she went to set him down next to his sister.

“That,” she said with great weight, “is the suit I wore when I... when I worked with heroes.”

Junior's eyes got wide as saucers. “Superheroes?” he breathed. “You were a superhero, mom?”

Tansy cocked her head at him. “Wyatt Junior you know we are all mutants...”

The boy was indignant. “That's not the same as being a superhero!” he declared with all the certainty of a not quite seven-year-old. “There's lots of mutants at school.” That struck Tansy as funny and she laughed.

“You have a very skewed perception there, my lad!” she chuckled. “But yes, I suppose you could say I was superhero. So was your Aunt Kayda and Debra.”

“What was your Secret Identity?” he demanded, getting excited.

Tansy smirked. “Mom is my 'secret identity', Junior, but when I wore this I called myself Wicked.”

Connie looked up at her and asked, “Is that why Aunt Tansy doesn't come see us anymore? 'Cause she's off being a superhero?” Ice water flowed down Tansy's spine as she sank down to Connie's eye level.

“Who told you about her, sweetheart?” she whispered.

The little girl shrugged as she looked up at the manikin. “Nobody, I 'member. She always brought us nice toys. And then she stopped coming three summers ago, when you were always crying, but Daddy told us not to bother you 'cause Aunt Tansy went away and that made you sad.” Connie turned and hugged her mother, catching her a bit off guard. “I wanted to tell you we loved you and not to cry, but Daddy said sometimes your heart hurts so bad you have to cry, so we didn't.”

Tansy reached out and pulled her daughter to her and kissed her forehead. “I could never think you didn't love me, sweetheart!”

Connie squeezed her back and grinned. “Will Aunt Tansy come back soon, mommy?” Behind the spell, Tansy wondered for a moment about the certainty with which Kayda declared Elaine would be restored and how that would affect the children she loved as her own.

Smiling at her daughter, said, “I don't know, sweetheart. But I hope so. I hope so with every bit of me.”

“Me too,” Connie said with a smile.

“Now!” Tansy declared as she took the sheet back from Junior and redraped it over the manikin. “We need to get your sister's highchair back home and I think maybe we need some ice cream.”

“Ice cream!” the trio of children shouted as they tumbled out of the locker toward the van.

October 22, 2016
Logan International Airport, Boston, Massachusetts

“The White Zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers and baggage. There is no stopping in a Red Zone.”

Adam Bruce had long since become used to the stares of the laity, as monks are not as common in everyday life as they once were. Perhaps even less so in the decidedly Protestant United States. Still, his passport stamped, he thanked the customs agent, gathered his carryon bag and began walking towards the baggage claim area. Along the way he smiled at the small children who stared at him because of the black habit he wore, signifying himself as a Benedictine.

It had been a long flight from Edinburgh, so it was good to be walking again to stretch out the kinks from ten hours of sitting. Still, it was not a particularly long walk from customs to the baggage claim carousel of Terminal E, nor was it difficult to find Father O'Reilly who was waiting for him in a more modern cassock rather than the black habit of monk. “Father,” he greeted as the two men shook hands.

“Welcome to Boston, Brother Bruce,” the older man declared with a warm smile and a firm handshake. “You had a pleasant flight, I trust?”

“Thank you, Father O'Reilly,” the scholar replied with a somewhat exaggerated stretch. “As pleasant as ten hours in a chair can be. I am very grateful for you meeting me and arranging lodgings at St. Benedict Abby.”

“We're delighted to host a fellow Brother away from his monastery,” O'Reilly assured him. “I have your box here and this was your only bag?”

“Indeed,” Bruce replied.

“I have looked forward to your translation ever since the news broke of your discovery,” Father O'Reilly stated as he led the way to the waiting car outside. “I'm grateful our Lord has allowed me to live to see it translated! Being something of a closet Celtophile myself, the thought of such an amazing discovery is breathtaking.”

Adam nodded as they walked. “It has been a journey of discovery in many ways, Father,” he said as he finessed his way into taking the somewhat heavy box from the older man. “As different as you'd expect and as familiar so as to be shocking. There are times I forget I am reading a work written twelve hundred years ago.” They arrived at the car and his things were stowed before they got inside and it started.

“Amazing,” the Father breathed as he eased his way into traffic. “And when is it to be in stores?”

“Tuesday, but don't worry, father, I insist you have one of my samples.”

“Bless you, my son!” the father chuckled. “So, you'll have mass with us tomorrow, and as we're the closest monastery, I'll drive you up to New Hampshire on Monday.”

“Drive?” Adam protested. “Father, it's more than a hundred miles!” The priest chuckled.

“Welcome to the United States, my son! Here, we think a hundred years is old and you think a hundred miles is far! Not to worry,” he assured him. “We'll just be a couple of hours. What was the name of the school again?”

“Whateley,” Brother Bruce replied. “Whateley Academy.”

October 22^nd, 2016
Apartment of Jennifer Kelly and Sarah Williams, The Mill, Berlin, NH

Jennifer set down the sofa she had carried up from the truck of the moving company she and her lover had hired to transport their things from New York. Running a hand through her jawbone length brown hair she sighed and plopped down on the sofa. The Mill had been a textile mill, situated where the Androscoggin and Miskatonic Rivers merged, now turned into the most upscale lofts as could be had in the sleepy little hamlet. There was a certain charm to the turn of the century brick and hardwood floors, and the twelve foot windows that dominated the wall on the river side of the loft held a lovely view.

But it wasn't New York.

Jennifer had not expected to feel so unsettled about leaving New York; as if there was safe anonymity to be had, some protective den to obscure her in the City that Never Sleeps. New York was all that she had known since waking up in a strange hospital, alone with no idea of who she was. To know so much, math, history, language and so little that mattered, family, identity, or even what she had been doing near Night Death's lair when it exploded.

“Show off,” Sarah scolded her as she came in with the last box of her medical books and set them with a collection of boxes all marked living room on their sides. “I thought the eyes were going to pop out of those college kids heads when you picked it up.”

Jennifer smiled and stretched. “Yeah, but they certainly lived up to the 'College Hunks' part of the ad.”

The doctor came over and took the hand she offered, but didn't sit down. “Are you thirsty? I can get you something...?” Jennifer shook her head.

“No, I'm fine. If you need to take a break, though, don't feel bad. Now we just have to unpack! You pay them?”

“Yes, though I think the tall one was taken with you.”

She smiled at the remembrance of her shameless teasing of him. “He was cute, wasn't he? His loss,” Jennifer replied. “I'm taken.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, then raised them to take in the view out the windows. “What magnificent colors!”

That got Jennifer giggling. “The locals will start calling us 'leafers' like that.” She looked over her shoulder and shrugged. “We really missed the season, it's almost over.”

“Still,” Sarah replied. “It's so different from New York. I do like this place, there's history here. You know, I could still have the agent find someone to buy us out of our lease...”

“Not a chance, it's rent controlled!” the brunette protested.

“Paying for two houses will put a cramp in our finances,” Sara retorted.

Alarm flowed over Jennifer's face, then worry. “We'll be going back, won't we?” Sara sat down on the arm rest of the sofa and hugged her lover side armed.

“Will we?” she asked philosophically. “What will this husband of yours think of me? Or upending his life and that of his children to move to a different state?”

Jennifer laid her head down on Sarah's thigh. “I don't know baby. I guess, first, we have to figure out who this impostor is. I'm just glad the kids are alright, but God I wish I could just drive out there and throw her against a wall!”

Sarah's bright smile bloomed on her face. “It's certainly an entrance up to your usual dash and aplomb!” After absently playing with Jennifer's hair, she whispered, “I'll make sure the children are all right.”

“Thank you, my Nubian Princess.”

“Anything for my Irish Rose,” she assured her.

Jennifer looked up, her worry and frustration plain on her face. “Why was I in New York? Why didn't they come look...?”

“They thought nothing was wrong,” the somewhat strident voice of Amelia Hartford declared as she let herself into the apartment, her Prada heels clicking on the boards. The two women were startled by the change in the former administrator's demeanor. She was wearing a charcoal silk Versace miniskirt suit that Jennifer's keen fashion sense told her had cost at least five figures. This was not the broken woman they had met their first trip to New Hampshire. This woman had power and authority and someone with serious death wish had gotten her pissed. Then the super villainess facade crumbled and she looked with completely believable sympathy and compassion at the young women. “God forgive me, Elaine, I thought nothing was wrong. I held her hand at the funeral of...”

“Of who?” Sarah asked, noting how quickly the older woman had self-censored herself. “Who's funeral?”

Her cold blue eyes fixed on Sarah for a moment, then returned to Elaine. “You should know this,” she said finally and sighed. “It will be difficult to hear.” Jennfier's hand found Sarah's and the fingers interlaced. “As you might have already guessed, Elaine, you are bisexual.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “What ever gave you that impression, Ms. Hartford?”

The older woman wasn't amused and continued as if she hadn't spoken. “I don't know the details for certain, but you were in New York because you were assisting your long time best friend and lover, my apprentice, Solange, in her raid against Night Death's lair.”

“What?” Whispered Sarah.

“Lover?” Kelly replied, amazed and awed. “I was Solange's lover?! But...but, I have this husband, Wyatt...”

Hartford cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Obviously, I'm not privy to the details, but the impression that I and Liz had was that you, Wyatt and Tansy were, um, something of a threesome.”

“Tansy?” Kelly whispered, feeling shivers run up and down her spine.

“Tansy Walcutt is...was...Solange's real name. You were students at Whateley together.”

Sarah frowned. “How well known was this relationship? Why impersonate Jenny and not this Walcutt woman?”

“It wasn't public knowledge, but you three weren't exactly discreet, either,” Amelia replied.

“But, if they planted a fake Jennifer or Elaine, or whatever her name is, why not...?” pressed Williams.

“Because no one knew Elaine went with Tansy,” Harford replied crossly. “And the entire world saw Solange die in that explosion.” She sighed. “You...you must have been thrown clear.”

“That would explain the amnesia,” Jennifer said softly. “I remembered giving birth to the twins, and there was a blonde woman there, was that...?” Harford nodded.

“Yes, she was there, and you had her formally recognized as their Godmother,” Hartford replied. “I helped you with the power of attorney for it. Whoever this impostor is, she's good. No, she's not good, she's perfect. From Tansy's funeral to teaching your classes, to... For the last three years she hasn't given me a moment's suspicion she wasn't who...well...you.” She shuddered and rubbed her own biceps, visibly repulsed. “Christ! I had her in my house! More than once and... Goddamn shape shifters!”

“Why?” demanded Sarah. “Why would anyone do that? On such short notice, for three years...?”

A look of horror painted itself on Amelia's face and she sank into the chair next to the sofa. “Oh, God. It's her, it has to be...”

“What?” asked Jennifer curiously.

Tears filled Amelia's eyes and began to stream down her face. “Don't you see?” she whispered. “The 'accident' in the tunnels? It was her! She murdered Liz and Fredrick and the trustees! She was the assassin that gave the school to Geoffrey Mazarin!”

Jennifer and Sarah shared a look. “Well, sure we have to stop her, but...”

“No,” Hartford replied coldly, her already somewhat harsh features became hard and merciless. The consoling woman was gone and the super villainess was back in full force. “We'll do more than stop her. She'll answer for what she's done. And then I will make her pay.”

October 23^rd, 2016
Cody Apartment, The Village, Whateley Academy

“Happy Birthday, Dear Junior and Connie, Happy Birthday to you!”

With a tremendous, simultaneous breath, miraculously without spitting, the twins blew out the candles on their cake, much to the applause of their friends and party guests. The twins themselves were more interested in the cake than the well wishes of family and friends, but they could be forgiven that. A model of efficiency, Mrs. Cody got the cake cut, the tub of ice cream where she could get at it, and a line formed. The birthday girl and boy were served first, Junior gallantly giving up the largest of the icing florets to his sister, knowing she had a particular weakness for butter cream icing.

With a slab of cake and a generous scoop of ice cream with it the children made their way back to the table they shared with the other children and began to stuff their faces. Stephen first had to make sure his ice cream did not touch his cake before eating it, while Nigel had mixed his together and Val was only eating ice cream without the cake. “This is good,” mumbled Nigel around a mouthful. “Your mom is awesome, Wyatt!”

“This is better than store bought,” Karma agreed. “Even better than my medallion!”

“I helped!” Connie declared indignantly, making sure her contributions weren't being ignored.

“And I couldn't have made it without you, dear heart!” Mrs. Cody exclaimed as she went by, pausing to kiss the tops of the heads of her oldest children.

“My mommy wants to bake,” Val said quietly. “But she can't reach things easy.”

Junior was uncommonly thoughtful and declared, “I bet Laura will make her something so she can.”

“The rain washed all the snow away,” Stephen said, looking out the window. “Do you think Dad will let us go outside?”

“I'll have to if I want to let you play with these!” their father declared from the garage door. The twins turned to see him standing next to a pair of brand new bicycles. Cake and ice cream forgotten, Junior and Connie leapt up and ran over to the door. “Happy birthday you two. Now,” and his voice dropped to its serious tone, the one he used most often for correction and the children noticed at once. “These vehicles are a sign of trust. I trust you to act in good faith and to obey the rules of the road your mother and I have already taught you. If you abuse our trust, or if you use them to run from Laura or some other adult we have watching you, I can and will take them from you. Do you both understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the twins echoed.

The children gathered around the bikes, more than a bit enviously, for these were not little kid toy bikes, but full on bicycles, with all the right reflectors and gear, for Junior and Connie were both big for their age. Both were rugged, off road types, with wide, knobby tires and multiple gears, and a cargo rack from which hung a pair of saddle bags. Wyatt's was a dull red and Connie's bike had only a single bow to femininity and that was its purple and pink color scheme which were her favorite colors.

“Can we ride them now?” asked Connie eagerly.

“What about your guests?” Mrs Cody asked.

“I can get my bike!” Karma declared.

“I don't have a bike,” Nigel said regretfully. Mr Cody made a great show of rubbing his chin in thought.

“Goodness,” he said with some weight. “That is a problem, isn't it?” He wandered to the far side of Liam's Folly to produce a third bicycle and wheeled it over. “Good thing I thought of that!”

Scooby's eyes threatened to boggle out of their sockets. Then he mastered himself and, despite his obvious desire, said, “Oh, Mr. Cody, I can't ask you to do that...”

Wyatt's smile widened. “You didn't ask, Nigel, and that's why I'm delighted to help your family out with this. Go on, it's yours.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Alright,” Dr. Cody laughed. “You kids go burn off that cake and ice cream, but be back before dark.”

“Yes sir!” the children declared and were off like a gaggle towards the Chambers apartment for Karma to get her bike.

“You big softy,” Tansy chuckled, digging her elbow into his ribs.

Wyatt pulled his wife to him and kissed the top of her head. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted.

October 23^rd, 2016
Apartment of Jennifer Kelly and Sarah Williams, The Mill, Berlin, NH

Jennifer sat at hers of the pair of little desks that faced each other the two women had set up in this corner of their loft. It was near the gadget that let them get to the internet and so it seemed a natural place for them to set up their laptops. She was supposed to be job hunting, and, as a Certified Gemologist, there were any number of jewelry shops in the area looking for one to hire. She had no doubt she'd get hired when Monday rolled around, that didn't concern her. With her lover on the other side of the desk, unable to see her screen, she stared at the images of the children Amelia Hartford had told her were hers. The eldest boy, Junior, she recalled was his name, it was hard to believe he was only seven. He was a big lad, probably the image of his father, and in ten years or so every college on the eastern sea board would likely be trying to recruit him for whatever sport he liked.

Despite the image of the future Jock, he had kind eyes and an open, happy face and Jennifer couldn't help smiling back at the image. His sister was next to him in the photo, just as big as he was, but looking at her sent chills down Jennifer's spine. It was like looking at what she must have looked like as a child, the same complexion, the same bright scarlet hair, and from the way she was making rabbit ears behind her brother's head, likely a very similar personality to Jennifer's own.

She looked at the photographs and felt a deep, abiding ache in the hole in her mind that was her memory. She had absolutely perfect recall of waking up in the hospital, to the amazement of the doctor who was now her lover. She remembered falling in love with her, from the first awkward date they'd had at the hospital coffee shop to the frantic way they'd made love the first time as if their bodies were on fire and only the touch of their new lover would put out the fire. It was a maddening exact recollection of crossword puzzles, frustration, mind blowing sex and terrible, aching loneliness and longing. Every second of every day, neatly ordered and filed from waking this morning all the way back to October 2^nd, 2014 where the perfect recall struck a brick wall and beyond it, only the vaguest senses of memory.

There were images, feelings, sharply defined bits, but none of the context. It was like a library had been fed into a gigantic blender, every book, every subject, they were all there, but there was no structure, no order, nothing to indicate which feeling went with which image. Over the years, she would see things, or taste things or hear things and a little bit of clarity would come for a moment, the feeling that one piece of the jigsaw puzzle was in the right place, but so few of them connected to the others. The days and hours since made a perfect border around a pile of pieces randomly arranged in the middle.

But today, today she had a pair of faces to put into their place on the board. She remembered the pain, the desperate need to push, the great, hulking man between her legs, ready to receive the children he had sired on her. And she was there, now she at last had a name to put on the breathtakingly beautiful blonde who was holding her hand, soothing her labor and yes, now she realized, was sharing the pain with her. Once again she felt the cushion of the birthing bed beneath her, held Tansy Walcutt's hand and felt Tansy's mind in hers and the sensation Carol Burnette had described as taking her lip and pulling it over her head overwhelmed her and she gave her son birth.

“It's a boy!” she heard him exclaim, delighted, proud and held up the infant, bloody and indignant at this bright, cold reality that he found himself in, still tethered to his mother. Jennifer reached out and took her son into her arms and pulled aside the gown by some instinct she had no name for and gave her breast to her son.

“She looks just like you.”

Jennifer started and realized her lover had come around to her side of the desk and was looking at the picture of the children on her screen. Kelly reached out and wrapped her arm around her lover's waist and gently guided her down into her lap. She laid her head on Sarah's breast and felt Sarah's hand gently stroking her hair. “I remember giving them birth,” she whispered, hating every syllable as if she was admitting to some betrayal. “Remember his hands...there...helping me; guiding them out of me.” She looked up into Sarah's blue eyes and her face blurred as Jennifer's eyes filled with tears. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...”

“You're not betraying me,” Sarah whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “We knew when we started that you might remember one day. I swore I would love you, whomever you were. I meant it.”

“What will I say to them?” Jennifer whispered.

“The truth,” Sarah soothed her. “You didn't remember.”

Jennifer returned her head to her lover's bosom and squeezed her as tightly as she dared. “I've never been so afraid, Sarah.”

“I'll be there with you,” Williams promised. “We'll get through it together.”

October 23^rd, 2016
Trail Access Road, Range 6A, Whateley Academy

The joy of having a new bicycle infected Junior and Connie and they quickly spread the excitement to the rest of their friends. The freedom led to races and good-natured one-upsmanship between Wyatt and Nigil, as their contests pushed the girls further than perhaps they were comfortable with, but said nothing so as to keep up with the boys. The Village was far behind them as the children skidded to a stop by the Range 6 Restrooms so they all could drink greedily from the water fountains. Being Sunday, the range itself was closed and silent, but the school never locked any of the restrooms scattered around the campus, no matter the time of day.

The range building sat on a somewhat prominent rise and the range when down the hill into the valley so that there was no change of strays, but here it gave a commanding view of the New England country side. Wyatt wiped his lips dry with the back of his hand and looked out, across the valley at a somewhat ramshackle house with a large truck and several cars sitting in the drive way. “Hey look,” he exclaimed, pointing it out to his friends. “Somebody bought the Old Whateley House.”

“Whateley House?” asked Susan as she wiped her own mouth dry on her sleeve. Junior pointed and once she squinted a bit she turned back and remarked, “Wow, Wyatt, your eyes are crazy good to see that. I thought Whateley House was where Mrs Carson lived?”

“The Head of the school,” Connie corrected as she joined the two. “That's Mr. Mazarin now.”

“Doctor,” Junior corrected her. “Remember? Dad said...”

“'The man earned his degree',” the children repeated together. Connie playfully pushed at her brother's arm and gazed at the house on the far hill. “That's technically the Whateley Homestead. Laura says it's the most haunted house in New England.”

“Why would anybody move into a haunted house?” Nigel demanded as he joined the other kids. Junior shrugged.

“Maybe they don't know it's haunted.”

“Ghosts are scary,” Valerie declared now that she'd finished her own drink. “It's getting dark. Shouldn't we get back home?” Junior and Nigel shared a glance.

“Wanna go found out?” Junior asked, drawing a frown from his sister.

“Daddy said be back before dark.” Wyatt looked up at the Sun with a critical eye.

“I could fly over there...” he thought out loud.

“But then you'll be naked,” Connie replied. “I wanna go see too.”

Nigel got astride his new bike and looked back at the other kids. “Nothing says we can't come back tomorrow after school, right?” Junior gave a glance to each of his friend's faces and nodded at the consensus that had been reached.

“Ok, tomorrow then.”

October 23^rd, 2016
Whateley Homestead, Dunwich, New Hampshire

Freya only just kept in her disgust at the state of the Whateley Homestead as she paused in the entry foyer and everywhere her eyes fell was dirt, disrepair; the opposite of the New York penthouse she'd left just two days previous. Her lip curled as she finally worked up the gumption to cross the threshold, hearing the boards of the floor creak under her Prada pumps. A door at the far end of the foyer opened, revealing her erstwhile partner in crime, the tall and gaunt frame of Nicholas DuPraeve. “Nicholas, what have you been doing that I come to find this?” she demanded, letting only the smallest amount of her displeasure to creep into her voice.

This was classic passive aggressive Freya, let her displeasure be known, without throwing a tantrum, then watch her minions scamper to make things right. DuPraeve, however, only smiled and didn't rise to the bait.

The intervening years had been good to her one time rival for the dominance of Whateley Academy. Gone was the weary and ragamuffin scarecrow she'd found and brought into her fold ten years ago, desperately on the run from a host of powerful individuals on both sides of the white or black hat divide for his attempt at making mind slaves of the entire campus. He'd filled out into an athletic, but gaunt paragon of the tall, Gallic aesthetic, dark hair meticulously smoothed back from his high forehead and the easy smile of a winner on his long, narrow face. “Freya, my dear, don't judge the house by the curtains,” he chided. “This is just for show. Come, let me show you what we've got.”

The Nordic would be goddess crossed the foyer as if judging each board was up to the task of holding up her weight. Fortunately, as she arrived at the door DuPraeve stood next to, she could see signs of repair. The back of what looked like a ramshackle wooden door was actually steel and the frame it latched into would likely stand up to a high level exemplar attempting to defeat it. Nicholas led the way down sturdy looking steps into a strong, if utilitarian lair where soldiers were still putting together equipment. He led the way to what was obviously the living area of the base and opened a door into a room that would have been at home in Freya's penthouse.

“Better,” Larssen purred as she took stock of the room, waving a vague direction to one of her mind slaves to place her luggage before joining Nicholas at the little bar on one side of the room. “Nice to see you have been busy.”

“Working non-stop,” he scolded her with an evil chuckle. “It's taken some time to get things up to this level at a slow enough rate to not draw attention, but we've made great strides.”

“Now, we have access to this wretched cave system you wanted,” Freya allowed, accepting the flute of champagne he offered, but waiting to see him drink from his own first. “Perhaps now you'll tell me how this gets us closer to our goal?”

“For starters, this gets us a secret way to come and go on the school grounds.”

“I'm listening,” Freya purred.

“I know several of my labs are undisturbed, even now ten years on,” he told her. “Had they been discovered, I would have been alerted. What's more my access into the Whateley Standing Wave Teleport network is still intact. That is how we will be able to come and go. It's how I was never caught.”

“How have they not discovered your access after all these years?” she demanded.

DuPraeve's grin was feral. “Because it cannot be detected. Because it isn't hardware in the first place.”

Slick Nick basked for a moment in the irritated confusion that played across Freya's face. With a grin, he removed his cell phone from a pocket and handed it to her.

“What's this?” she asked, looking at what seemed to be a simple email.

“The master routing frequencies and access codes for the Academy SWTN,” Nick told her smugly. “One of the first things I did when I set up my teleport network was to run most of it through the school's existing network. It didn't flag the traffic as abnormal because it was it's own traffic.”

“Surely they change these codes...” Frey replied, her mind beginning to move in decidedly unpleasant directions at this revelation.

“Every month,” DuPraeve told her. “And every month, like clockwork, my thrall in the Academy IT department acts on my post hypnotic suggestion, writes out a copy of the codes on his home machine and emails it to a dead drop that forwards it to me. Forgetting he did it after, of course.”

“Because he doesn't send it from a system that Whateley IT monitors or a network they administer...”

“They never know they're compromised,” Slick Nick gloated. “Social Engineering, the very best of security compromises.”

Freya arched a suspicious eyebrow. “And, after all these years, your equipment is still working? And able to do, whatever, with the schools? Which they have surely upgraded between our time and now?”

If DuPraeve had gotten any more smug, he likely would have exploded. He was a classic show off, loved rubbing others noses into just how clever he was, which Freya had discovered quickly and indulged him in, discretely, as a very low effort reward for keeping him loyal. “Forwards compatibility is the hallmark of good engineering,” he crooned. “I'll need to upgrade a unit or two's firmware, but the basic operating principals of Standing Wave Teleportation haven't changed since the nineties.”

“And why?” the blonde demanded, “if this is simple teleportation, am I having to come to hind end of New Hampshire when I could still be enjoying New York? What made these wretched caves so important?”

“Proximity,” Nick told her. “I do have to preform those upgrades and even remote, requires a bit of proximity. I won't need to cross the warding, I have a receiver that's still working that these caves will get us close enough to. Then, the mayhem can start.”

Finally convinced, Freya raised her glass. “To coldly served revenge!”

“Icy,” Nick exalted and touched his glass to hers.

October 24^th, 2016
Doyle Medical Center, Whateley Academy

“Doctor Williams?”

Sarah turned to find a tall, dark, handsome man in a white coat walking purposefully towards her, extending a hand to be shook. “Yes?” She asked, extending her own in greeting.

The man smiled behind his goatee, flashing brilliantly white teeth. “Raul Tenant, I'll be your orientation partner. I must say we're glad to have a generalist on the staff, welcome aboard! Do you have a great interest in mutation?”

Sarah tried to give a disarming smile. “Oh, my wife got a promising position up here, and this is the Level One trauma center for the region, so...” Doctor Tenant's handshake was warm and firm.

“Well, bless you for stepping into the lion's den! We were the sole Level One back in the early aughts while Androscoggin Valley Hospital was upgrading their Trauma Center. What a nightmare! While we are still Level One rated, there are just too few such centers in New England for us to be downgraded, we're only really called on for disasters and overflow. While we do take a back seat to AVH, don't worry, there will be plenty to do! You're aware of the nature of our student body?” Sarah nodded and let herself be led back the way he had come from. She watched his face for any sign of negative reaction to a woman referring to 'her wife,' but the swarthy man's face stayed open and happy. “Excellent! Well, if you weren't interested in human mutation, I'm sure you'll pick up the curiosity in your time here. Other than that, we're a fairly typical rural facility. Order whatever tests you like for the students, it's all covered in their tuition, and for our regional patients, our philosophy is we treat the patient, whether their insurance likes it or not.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she declared, giving him a sideways glance. “Now tell me what the reality is?”

“Oh, that is the reality,” he assured her. “The school has some very well-heeled alumni and trustees with extremely deep pockets. You practice medicine, the hospital accounting department will sort the rest out. You'll never have to justify a procedure against a cost objection. You have my word on that.”

“I am liking this change more and more,” Williams declared with a chuckle. “And, I always thought I would enjoy working with children. I considered becoming a pediatrician for a while, but all of the interest I caught in med school were from hospitals and I found I like the ER.”

Dr. Tenant chuckled darkly. “I'm sure we'll find you plenty of both. So, for starters, we have some new students this morning who'll need to be classified, and an M. D. needs to be present. Care to attend?”

“Classified?”

“Oh, you'll enjoy this,” he declared, ducking into his office to remove an iPad and then leading the way towards a stairwell. “Mutation is still a very new science and some of the categorization is of the trial and error variety. Ready to have your mind blown?”

“Lead on.”

October 24^th, 2016
St. Benedict Abby, Still River, MA

Brother Bruce walked out of the guest house of this wonderful suburban monastery in a lovely, New England fall morning. Smiling up at the sun partly hidden by slowly moving clouds, he found his traditional monk's habit sufficiently warm as he walked towards the main building of the monastery. He could already see Father O'Reilly waiting next to one of these huge American cars, no, SUV he corrected himself. Brother Bruce had been surprised at how quickly Boston had turned into this comparative wilderness until the Father had chuckled and told him the Abbey was fifty miles from the airport.

And he had thought the Romans built good roads!

“Good morning, Father,” he greeted, pausing to shake hands with him and the Abbot of Saint Benedict's to thank him for his hospitality.

“Good morning indeed, Brother Bruce!” O'Reilly with a smile. “Ready for our little road trip?”

“As I can be,” the Scotsman replied. “Thank you again, Abbot, for your hospitality.” The Abbot smiled and nodded, raising a silent hand in blessing for a safe journey. The two Churchmen climbed into the big truck, Adam pausing to remove the satchel he had slung over his shoulder to place it in the back seat. “Have you been enjoying your copy, Father?” he asked as the older man covered a yawn as he went about getting the truck started.

“Too much so!” Father O'Reilly laughed as he got his seat belt sorted. “I could only put it down through great force of will! Tell me, brother, did you take many liberties with your translations...?”

“As few as possible,” Adam assured him. “I have some pictures of the originals with me so I can show you in the comparison. Not to distract you from driving, and at the risk of sounding prideful, I worked quite diligently in keeping my own bias and viewpoint from Laneth's writing.”

Father O'Reilly nodded thoughtfully. “The...privileges of the Bean Sith are surprisingly...earthy. It is hard to believe she considered herself a Christian woman.”

The chuckle Brother Bruce allowed himself was knowing. “If this sorority of warriors were men, I don't think you would find yourself so perplexed, father,” he said, his mind over a thousand years away. “The Sisters of the Blade, for the most part, are an interesting contradiction. What children they bear from their carousing, they give up for fostering so as to keep their attention on their training. In that way, Laneth is something of an outlier as well. The impression I gathered from her writings were that most Banshees leave the order if they marry.”

“So, Laneth does marry Duke Drest?” O'Reilly asked.

“No,” the Monk replied. “Though, they remain friendly for most of her life. She...but then I'd spoil things for you.”

The older man chuckled. “Say no more, my son! Tell me, is it just me, or, does her style of writing seem almost...modern?”

“It is remarkably matter of fact, isn't it?” Adam asked, drawing a thoughtful nod from the priest. “There are times she turns a poetic phrase, and there are descriptions...that you'll get to, that come close to full on prose, but otherwise she is very pragmatic. It's what makes other things so strange.”

“Other things?” Father O'Reilly asked.

“Laneth writes in a way that is so frank, it can be a little disturbing. Her depictions of her mother's magic are completely without embellishment or awe. Down right common place in point of fact and described lacking any amazement. She has more than one encounter with the supernatural, but to hear her tell the tales, it's completely every day. I had no idea magic was so common in the earlier times than these.” He sighed and turned his gaze back out the window. “In fact, I'm hoping Mrs Cody can shed some light on something that's bothering me.”

“What is that?” the priest asked as he eased the truck out the gate of the monastery and towards the closest on ramp for the interstate.

“There are several times that Laneth's writings talk about 'speaking with the girl in the water.' It's clear they didn't speak a common tongue as Laneth writes about teaching her Pictish, so she isn't a local, but it happens so irregularly that she writes about her, I can't help but be confused. This goes on over years, but Laneth always writes her as puella which in context would mean a young maiden, significantly younger than Laneth herself.” He sighed and shook his head. “Laneth was sixteen at the time, so, I imagine a young child.”

“As if she never marries?” Father O'Reilly asked.

Adam rubbed his chin in thought as he looked out at the beautiful country side. “No,” he said at last. “As if she never grows up.”

“Interesting!” the Priest enthused. “I must not have gotten to that part yet.”

Brother Bruce shook his head as he waited for the Priest to merge onto the massive dual carriageway that these Americans seemed so fond of. “I didn't include it,” he said at last. “I didn't understand it, so I hoped to speak with this re-incarnated Laneth and find out what she meant. I hope to include it in the second volume. You've spoken with Mrs. Carson? She concurs, this Mrs. Cody, is Laneth reincarnated?”

“It's confusing, but as I understand it, Mrs. Carson is no longer at the school, some kind of accident, I think?” Father O'Reilly clarified.

“How unfortunate,” Brother Bruce observed. “I was looking forward to meeting Mrs. Carson.”

“I spoke with a Mr. Turner, the Assistant Headmaster,” Father O'Reilly continued. “But yes, that's my understanding. Mrs. Cody is Laneth and at least once had manifested her separately.”

“I can only wish,” Brother Bruce whispered. “To speak with Lady mac Óengusa...” He shared a smile with the Priest and shook his head. “Forgive me, father, I've been reading the diary of this great lady for ten years, to finally speak with her, well, what more can a scholar ask for?”

“Indeed, my son, indeed.”

“How long until we're there?”

Father O'Reilly smiled and consulted his watch. “We should be there in time for lunch.”

October 24^th, 2016
Administration Offices, Whateley Academy

Connie was unusually shy when she and her brother followed their father into the front foyer of the main office of the school. She watched the ladies greet her father warmly, but this was not a visit in the context of any other time she had been in the room. Her world was changing drastically, she worried about when she would see her friends in her old school again, if ever. What did it mean that being on campus wasn't being brave and somewhere she wasn't technically allowed anymore? Would things change being a student and belonging here? Were there other girls her age? Would she make friends? It was very unsettling.

She had a very strong desire to suck her thumb that she was bravely resisting.

In her mind, she knew her brother was just as afraid as she was, but Junior was focused on being angry this was happening, that just because of their special friends and their gifts their lives were being turned upside down and he didn't care that Daddy said this was 'for the best.' Connie worried he was going to misbehave, she knew her brother was stubborn and when made to do something he didn't want to do he frequently could be churlish and resentful and she didn't want him to get a spanking because of it.

Worry about him helped take a bit of the edge off her own fears and she was grateful for that.

A man almost as big as Dad turned and she realized it was Mr. Turner who was smiling and shaking hands with her father. They were talking about things and Mr. Turner indicated a tall, pale woman next to him who was looking at Connie like she could see through her soul.

Her face was oval shaped and very pale with high, somewhat prominent cheek bones dominated by icy blue eyes that made Connie want to hide behind her father. Her long, ebony hair was absolutely straight and framed her face, with a long streak of white on the left side from the crown of her head to the very tip. She was dressed in a long, black dress that covered her arms and fell almost to her feet.

Connie felt her father's hand on the top of her head and looked up at him. He was smiling and that reassured her somewhat. “Constance, this is Ms Elyzia Grimes. She's going to be your new teacher, so I want you to be on your very best behavior.”

“Yes, sir,” Connie declared from slightly behind his leg. “How do you do, Ms. Grimes?”

The teacher arched one of her eyebrows by itself, and the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth on the same side. “Very well, thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cody,” she replied in a voice that somehow perfectly matched what she looked like.

“Thank you,” Connie replied in a small voice.

“And this,” Wyatt continued with considerable pride, “is Junior.”

Finally, those intense eyes left Connie and traveled over to her brother. “'ello,” she heard Junior mumble. Constance watched Ms Grimes think for several seconds before she spoke.

“Unhappy to be here, Mr Cody?” she asked, in a curious tone of voice that set Connie's hairs up on end. It immediately had an effect on Junior whose face flushed as he looked up at her.

“Yes!” he declared sharply. “I want to go back to our old school!”

“Junior!” Wyatt declared sharply, but a casual gesture from Ms Grimes interrupted his correction of his recalcitrant son. To Connie's intense surprise, Ms Grimes knelt down to be on eye level with the children. Without taking her eyes off Junior, she reached out and took a hold of Connie's arm and gently pulled her around so she could look both children in the face.

“It's scary, isn't it?” she asked softly. “Having to leave your old school, where you were comfortable and everything made sense. Just because of things you can do that other kids can't, and that's not your fault.”

“Our friends...” Junior started, but his voice was considerably cooler and even Constance had to admit that she was starting to like Ms. Grimes.

The teacher smiled and nodded knowingly. “Will miss you, just as much as you miss them, but it's not as if you've moved away, is it? You can do things they can't, and you have to learn how to do those things without hurting yourself. Or them. Think how badly you'd feel if you hurt one of your friends without meaning to.”

“Is that what you're going to teach us?” asked Connie softly.

The blue eyes came back and seemed not quite so icy. “I am,” she promised. “And other things that will help you.” She smiled and at last Connie decided she liked Ms Grimes. “Now, how about you both come with me and let's find out what you can do, so we can find out how to do it safely?”

The children exchanged a glance that communicated volumes, before Wyatt finally nodded and stood up a bit taller. “Ok, Ms Grimes. Do we pick hero names now? Cause I want to be 'Bird Man.'”

Ms Grimes smiled a bit. “I'm afraid there is a company that owns that name, Mr. Cody.”

“Bird Boy!” Connie gleefully exclaimed, causing Ms Grimes to chuckle.

She looked at Junior side long. “That would be available, if memory serves?” Wyatt's face looked like he'd sucked on a lemon, but he very bravely shrugged his indifference. “Alright, Bird Boy it is,” Ms Grimes said as she turned to Constance. “And what about you, Miss Cody?”

“I wanna be 'Wicked',” Connie declared.

“Your mother is Wicked,” Ms Grimes told her in a tone of voice that made Connie's father laugh.

“So?” Connie demanded. “There's lots of superheroes with the same name. There's like five Flashes. I can't be Wicked 2?” Ms Grimes smiled her amusement, but shook her head. Constance tried not to pout, but her disappointment was plain to everyone looking, causing the adults to share a smile. “Then, can I be Ingid?”

Wyatt senior frowned, “What now, Connie?”

“It's a 'nother language,” she informed her father. “It means Wicked. Is that OK?”

“Aingidh?” Ms Grimes asked, startled. At Wyatt's confused glance, she stood up and said, “That's Gaelic for Wicked. Where did you learn that word, honey?”

“I looked it up,” she replied.

It was clear from the look on Ms Grimes face she had her doubts and looked back up their father. “They can read?”

“And write!” the twins exclaimed proudly at the same time.

Wyatt smiled and was obviously quite proud of his children. “Connie is an avid reader.”

“About what level?” she asked. Wyatt smiled down at his daughter.

“Connie, why don't you tell Ms Grimes what book you're reading now?”

“I just finished The Fellowship of the Ring, cause we saw the movie with Mom and Dad and I asked what the differences were, and Mom said I should read it and find out for myself.”

Ms Grimes smile was one of deep amusement. “So you did. And what did you discover?”

“They took out Tom Bombadil and Goldberry and the Wights in the Barrow Downs, but I'm kind of glad they did because he didn't make much sense. But Goldberry seemed nice, I liked her.” She shrugged and looked the teacher in the face. “I guess it made the story go faster.”

The teacher turned back to her former student. “Color me impressed, Doctor Cody.”

Wyatt grinned and his pride of his offspring was evident. “They can both write in block and cursive, though Connie's penmanship is better than Juniors.” Connie grinned at her brother, who stuck his tongue out at her. “Junior, on the other hand,” Wyatt continued. “Is better at math. He knows his multiplication tables to ten, while Connie is struggling a bit with multiplication and division.”

Ms Grimes crossed her arms over her breasts and nodded at the children. “Well, what wonderful new students I have! Alright, Miss Cody, if you want to be Aingidh, you can be.”

“Yes!” Connie enthused.

“Is that wise?” her father asked. “Won't that indicate to someone that there is a connection to her mother...? Shouldn't they be more discrete...?”

Ms Grimes arched an eyebrow. “Said the bear Avatar who picked Kodiak as his code name?”

Doctor Cody chuckled. “Touche. I concede, Ms Grimes.”

Elyzia smiled, laying a hand on the shoulder of each child. “Alright, Doctor Cody, I believe you have patients waiting. Come along with me, children. This will be fun.” Connie cast a final glance at her father, who, she was gratified to note was watching them leave which reaffirmed her feeling of safety and so followed Ms Grimes out the door of the office.

October 24^th, 2016
Powers Testing Lab 'A', Doyle Medical Center Tunnels, Whateley Academy

Sarah followed Doctor Tenant down the stairs, coming out in a somewhat bustling corridor with students coming and going, some cheerfully greeting the doctor as they passed. Perplexed, she turned and asked him, “Why are there so many students in the maintenance spaces of the hospital?”

Doctor Tenant chuckled and pointed to a junction of what she had taken to be corridors with signs pointing directions. “We're not technically in the Center here,” he told her. She looked to find signs pointing down two corridors one read Hawthorne Cottage and the other Poe Cottage. “These tunnels cut through the entire plateau, so if you need to get somewhere and its raining, these are a handy alternate. Just make sure you take the faculty map with you until you get your bearings. There are miles of tunnels down here.”

“Good Lord, are you serious?”

He arrived at a door labeled 'Powers Testing Lab A' and favored her with a grin. “Completely,” he assured her. The door opened into a sizable room on an upper gantry way or catwalk. The floor was nearly four stories down and the space large enough to enclose an Olympic Track and Field area. Sarah was startled the door opened so casually onto such a large space, but recovered quickly. The two doctors went over to a small, mostly open elevator that was not far from the door and rode it down to the ground floor. “Now, a word of warning. Part of the reason the school is allowed to exist is to study mutation, but most of those researchers, are not allowed to know the names of the students.”

“It's a blind trial?”

“In a way. Every student has a code name for their MID. As part of the medical staff, we can know both their real and code names, but these researchers can't, so be careful to only use the students code names.”

“Will do,” Williams assured him. They joined the little crowd of lab coated researchers and, to Sarah's amazement, her lover's children turning to smile at her.

“Ms Grimes!” Dr Tenant greeted the only adult who wasn't dressed like a researcher. There was something about her that reminded Sarah of someone else, but she couldn't quite place whom. “May I introduce Dr Sarah Williams? She's just on boarding with the hospital today. Dr. Williams, this is Elyzia Grimes, who is the head of our Junior High School program.”

“Delighted, Doctor,” the teacher declared, extending a hand to be shook. “This is Bird Boy and his sister, Aingidh.”

“That means Wicked!” the little girl declared proudly, sending another thrill up Sarah's spine.

Sarah only managed to keep tears from her eyes with great force of will as she smiled at Jennifer's child who was her spitting image. “You'll have to give me a few tries to get that right, sweetheart.”

“It's AIN-geed,” the little girl drawled helpfully. Sarah smiled at her and was introduced around to the researchers. Once she could speak again, Connie demanded, “Why do you smell like my mom?”

The innocent question shot through Sarah and turned her blood to ice in her veins. “I do?” she managed, feeling all of the adults eyes on her. “We must like the same brand of perfume.” The expression on Connie's face was clear that wasn't what she meant, but before she could correct her intent, the head of the researchers cleared his throat, tabling further comments on smells and scents.

“Alright, everyone, I think we're about ready to begin,” Dr. Hewley declared. “Now, Ms Grimes, I'm told both Bird Boy and Aingidh are Avatars? Could I trouble you to...?”

Ms Grimes nodded. “Of course, Doctor.” She declared an odd sounding word and a small ball of light appeared on the end of her finger tip. “Bird Boy, you're first. Open your mouth and swallow this.” The boy did so and what looked like holograms appeared over his head.

Williams leaned over to Doctor Tenant in amazement. “You have a Divinologist?”

Raul Tenant smiled and whispered back, “You've seen the Diagnostic Spell before?”

“Only once, in med school! We were all tested, but I evidently didn't have whatever they were looking for to learn it.”

“The spell's creator is actually on staff,” he told her. “It was created here. I can introduce you if you like?”

“Please!”

“Alright, Bird Boy,” Ms Grimes said, going over the read out. “Your hallow is forty six and a half Codys wide. So, tell us about your spirit.”

Junior beamed and seemed eager to show off a bit. “His name is Peregrine! Do you want me to show you?”

Sarah leaned closer to Doctor Tenant. “Show?” she whispered. Tenant just had time to wink before Sarah's eye were drawn back to the big lad. She blinked and suddenly the boy was gone and in his place stood an immense bird of prey she lacked the Ornithology knowledge to identify. It so startled her she barked a squeal she couldn't keep in and took an involuntary step backwards. “Jesus!” she swore as the eyes of all the adults turned to her, knowing smiles on their faces.

“It's always shocking the first time, isn't it?” the bald, portly researcher observed kindly.

“I'm sorry for scaring you,” the bird told her in voice that close to his old one, but not.

“I'm sorry,” Sarah declared quickly. “I was not prepared for that!” She made a vague gesture as she quickly tried to recover her wits. “Please forgive me for the distraction, please, continue!” Ms Grimes helped the bird from the boy's clothing, then stepped back as the scientists took measurements of his wing span and other features.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Dr Tenant assured her in her ear, then both gave their attention back to what was happening before them.

“You can fly like dez?” the tallest scientist asked with a pronounced French accent.

The bird was proud and it showed. “Yep! You wanna see?”

“Absolument!” the scientist replied. It was all the encouragement the young lad needed. He launched himself into the air with surprising speed and agility. He circled the track twice, once under a stop watch so his speed could be measured, then he landed, obviously pleased with himself, despite his avian features.

Dr Aranis fed numbers into his calculator and marveled. “Eighty kilometers an hour! Um,” he paused and repeated the number cruching. “Fifty miles in the hour! Very impressive Bird Boy!”

The giant bird spread a wing in dissmissal. “That's nothing,” he bragged. “Just straight and level flight. I can go much faster in a dive.”

“I'm sure you can,” Ms Grimes declared archly, “but we'll wait for some powered flight classes before we even think about clocking power dives.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Junior replied, somewhat deflated. “Uh, where can I change back?” Ms Grimes gathered up his discarded workout suit and gestured to the offices over on one side of the track. “I'll carry these for you.”

After a short wait, Wyatt emerged from the changing room Ms Grimes waited for him outside of, clothed and human once more and the pair rejoined the little clutch of researchers. “Now, Aingidh,” Dr Hewley began, turning to the young girl. “It's your turn. Ah, Ms Grimes...?”

Again the teacher preformed the Diagnostic Spell and soon had the same hologram like powers of the magic floating over Connie's head. “Aingidh, your hallow is forty Cody's and I understand your spirit is...”

“Winyanigmuwatogla,” Connie interrupted. “She's a Cougar.”

“And you also can transform?” Dr Aranis asked.

Connie shrugged. “Sometimes.” Her somewhat evasive answer drew Ms Grimes' attention.

Leaning down to be more on eye level with the young girl, she asked, “What do you mean, 'sometimes', Aingidh?” Constance shrugged again and couldn't meet the teacher's gaze.

“Sometimes,” she repeated stubbornly. “Only when I get frightened, or if I'm running and trying to go faster. I can't control it and I don't like it.”

“Why don't you like it, dear heart?” Dr Hewley asked softly.

Once more the girls shoulders rose and fell. “I just don't. It...it feels funny.” Suddenly her posture straightened and changed and her expression became angry and far too adult for her young years. She spoke and even her voice was older and with a vague accent that was not her normal speaking voice.

“Leave her be!” the new voice snapped. “What gifts I share with my host are not your affair!”

“Spirit!” Ms Grimes snapped with a voice that rang with power. “You will not interfere with this test! This is for Aingidh's benefit and you are bound by the Contract to allow that which is in your host's best interest.”

The not so little girl whirled on the teacher and pointed an angry finger at her. “So you claim, witch! But I have a say in what benefits my host or not. Go and curry favor with Raven...!”

“Silentium!” Ms Grimes commanded and thunder rolled through the cave as she did so. Instantly, the spirit within Constance was cowed and shrank back in fear. “These children are in my care,” she went on, giving Wyatt a glance as she did so as if to impress on his spirit he was included in the rebuke. “I have say above yours and only their parents command me! I speak and you both obey! That is the Contract and you both will honor it!”

Both children bowed their heads and their different voices affirmed, “We honor and abide the Contract of Solomon.” Then the children were only children again and were obviously upset. The sterness left Ms. Grimes and she gathered both into hug.

“I'm not in the least upset with either of you, Aingidh, Bird Boy.” She favored them with a warm smile. “You're both doing very well, though I think we could use a break?” She looked up at Dr Hewley and, reluctantly, the researcher nodded.

“I have some Yoohoos in the fridge.”

“Yoohoo!” the children echoed, their moods considerably brightened and they eagerly followed the researchers back to the offices. Ms. Grimes stood and sighed, shaking her head.

“Sometimes, we forget these are just children.” She gave an ironic smile to the pair of Doctors still standing with her. “They mean well, though.”

“Amazing,” Sarah whispered, shaking her head in her dumbfoundment. “I was completely unprepared for this.”

Ms Grimes arched an eyebrow. “But you must have some experience with Paranormals to be here, don't you, Doctor?”

Immediately, Sarah was on her guard and tried to dissemble without appearing to. “Oh, my...lover...is a red bander.”

“Oh?” It was impressive how much question Ms Grimes managed to squeeze into such a small word. Williams smiled and made a dismissive gesture.

“Not to worry. She's retired and learned her lesson. In fact, she actively averts herself from her previous life.”

Now the other eyebrow joined it's mate at the top of Ms Grimes' forehead. “A rare success story for the United States Penal System,” the teacher replied, disbelief dripping from her tone.

October 24^th, 2016
Devisor Lab (Vehicle) Kane Hall Tunnels, Whateley Academy

Mondays were never a particularly favorite day of Tansy's growing up. In her youth at the Academy, it was the worst day of the week. The weekend was over, time to go back to listening to boring teachers giving boring lectures on boring subjects. But, in the three years she had given up being 'Action Girl' as her lamented lost lover had teasingly called her, she found her perception of many things had changed. Being 'Mrs. Cody' took the baggage of her old name off her shoulders, suddenly she had a full family with three wonderful children, the familiar love of her once shared husband and yet even that was different. Now the future loomed with a child of her own, growing in her own womb and dealing with her students had led to a mind-blowing discovery; Tansy loved being a teacher.

Not just the fun bits either.

Sure, it was great to see the expression of comprehension dawn on a student's face as they suddenly understood something that had been a complete and frustrating mystery just seconds before. In addition there was something deeply satisfying about guiding a young person, to save them from themselves, to help through the rough, emotional nightmare that was adolescence.

To grab them by the scruff of the neck right as they're about to step on a land mine of a mistake that could ruin their lives forever. The way Amelia Hartford had grabbed her and pulled her back from the cliff she had nearly thrown herself off of in her high school years because of being an abused and emotionally blackmailed child.

She thought of how her father might be 'enjoying' his time at Otisville Federal Correctional Institute and allowed herself a rare, cruel smile.

However, the thought of her mentor brought Tansy up short as she walked with the crowd of students toward the room that had been her lover's sanctuary in high school, and her domain as a young teacher, Devisor Lab (Vehicle). It was here, in a little office, drinking too much coffee, that Tansy had made her peace with the life she had usurped and swore to herself and her God she would do everything she could to see to it Wyatt Cody and his children did not suffer a second of grief because she had not been able to go and save humanity when called.

And that the love of her life, the wife of that man and the mother of those children, had suffered her fate by taking Tansy's place.

But now, Amelia Hartford had lost her lover and her best friend. Tansy recalled the murderous rage she'd flown into when Geoffrey Mazarin had been chosen over her as the new Headmaster of the school. Mrs. Cody had kept her from throwing her life away, but that didn't stop her quitting her job of almost three decades to storm off the grounds, then fall into a maudlin depression. It broke Tansy's heart to see such a vibrant woman, mentor and a close personal friend retreat into a wine soaked haze of numbed grief and undeserved survivor's guilt. Several times, she'd tried to reach out to Amelia and had even strongly considered revealing her true self to her, but fear had always held her back.

Amelia was good friends with Tansy's biological mother, Marissa Donner. And if seeing Amelia's grief was disturbing, Tansy would rather die herself than make her mother go through the trauma of having buried her daughter only to discover the truth of the monumental lie that was Tansy's stolen life. Tansy had no doubt that if Amelia discovered her true identity, Marissa would be informed within the hour.

Which made helping her mentor a thorny problem, which thus far was a problem with no solution.

So, coming back from lunch, a cup of the horrific coffee that despite herself she'd actually gotten a taste for in hand, Tansy promised herself she would put her mind to solving that problem in her off period that was just starting. She picked up her step, to hasten getting back to that office and put that plan into motion, when she came around the corner to find her boss waiting for her at the door to the lab with two unknown men, both apparently men of the cloth by their attire.

Melvin Donner had no desire to become the Chair of the Advanced Technologies Department. He was happy just being a teacher, but Langley Paulson had also been a victim of whatever had happened in the tunnels that had claimed so many of the great lights of Whateley Academy. Melvin, much to his chagrin, found himself the senior member of the department and thus was thrust into the roll of Department Chair very much against his will. “Doc, there you are!” he greeted with a warm smile despite the pressures of a position he didn't want.

“Have you been waiting?” Mrs. Cody asked, concern in her voice that something had somehow slipped her mind.

“Not at all,” the taller of the two clergymen assured her. Melvin introduced him first.

“Doc, this is Father O'Reilly of Saint Benedict's Abby, Boston.” Donner turned and indicated the man wearing a monk's habit and was staring in open wonder. “And this is probably your biggest fan, Brother Adam Bruce. Gentlemen, Doctor Elaine Cody.”

“Just Lanie,” Tansy quickly corrected her boss as she took the hands offered to shake.

“Forgive me,” Brother Bruce stammered. “I...”

The moment Tansy's hand touched his was as if she'd been blasted by a shotgun of memories. She swam through years of early mornings and late nights, hunched over delicate rolls of parchment, probably ruining his eyes as he fought a never ending battle with more light to help him read and fear of it damaging the precious, precious scrolls. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

Finally, the monk held up a book that was in his hands and turned it's cover out. Tansy beheld the face of her love, the face she wore just then, astride a massive black war horse, dressed in that piecemeal barbarian outfit that had been Elaine's prized possession of her ancestress. “I don't mean to stare, Mrs Cody. I...I have been reading your ancestor's diaries for ten years and now...”

Tansy smirked knowingly. “Now she's staring you in the face?”

A smile quickly formed on his face and, as she had intended, allowed him to regain his composure. “If I could ask for a single wish, it would be to have a conversation with Lady mac Óengusa.” He offered the book to her. “This is your copy, with my compliments.”

Guardedly, Tansy accepted the book and tucked it under an arm. “You certainly didn't need to drive all the way up here just to give me this...”

“That's my fault,” Melvin told her. “It seems Brother Bruce called just before summer break started to schedule this visit with...” his throat closed and he had to swallow firmly. “With Mrs. Carson.”

“We went down to Atlanta...” Tansy replied, drawing a knowing nod from her boss.

“Yep. Mrs Carson must have decided it would wait until fall when you got back from the summer with your folks. Then the accident.” He sighed and shook his massive head. “I found a note in Langley's papers this morning. By the time I got confirmation the appointment was genuine, and today, Father O'Reilly and Brother Bruce were already on their way here.”

The priest was contrite. “We're terribly sorry to be the cause of disruption...”

Tansy smiled and unlocked the door into the lab. “Gentlemen, not at all! Please come in.” She favored both with a smile and added, “Thank you so much for bringing me this. I had honestly forgotten you were working on the translation.”

“It's been a labor of love,” the monk assured her as both clergy followed her towards her office. Tansy looked over her shoulder, but Melvin only winked and took his leave, heading towards Kane Hall. “I...forgive me, Mrs Cody, I understand you are Lady mac Óengusa?”

“Reincarnated?” Tansy chuckled. “Yes, but that doesn't mean I know everything she did.”

“I was desperately hoping you could shed some light on something from Laneth's diary,” Bruce continued as they sat across from the desk in the little office.

Tansy was glad her back was to them as she went over to the coffee pot and began preparing a fresh one. “I'll have some coffee in just a moment, gentlemen.” Grizzly? She mentally called in a panic. In her mind, she felt the spirit's massive arms around her.

Right here, dear heart. I'll help you as much as I can.

 

“That's very kind of you,” Father O'Reilly said.

“Mrs Cody, there are several times in Laneth's diaries where she talks about speaking with the 'Girl in the Water.' Do you have any idea what she meant?”

As the coffee pot began to gurgle, Tansy gently let out a feeling of trustworthiness about herself and the reliability of everything she would say. “I'm sorry, Brother. My interactions with my forebear were some time ago and more than a little limited in their scope. I don't recall her ever saying anything about what you describe.”

For a moment, there was silence, and Tansy began to breath a little easier, believing she had dodged a dangerous bullet, then Father O'Reilly spoke. “Half a moment,” he protested. “I recall reading about some kind of lecture or presentation that supposedly Laneth gave, here at the school. Sometime around 2006 or 2007. I recall being bitterly disappointed I couldn't make the lecture!”

Brother Bruce's gaze went between the Father and Tansy. “Could we speak with Laneth? Please?”

Grizzly?

 

The spirit's voice was worried. She is still with Elaine, Tansy. I can't make her be here.

Tansy set her coffee cup down and let a little bit of annoyance creep into her tone. “Brother Bruce, you don't want to meet Laneth. Laneth mac Joan was a Banshee. An Iron Age killer who would have cut you down without a second thought if the mood struck her!”

The Monk pulled back in indignation and a bit of his Scottish accent crept into his voice. “Madam, you could not be more wrong! Yes, Lady mac Óengusa was a warrior, and yes she fought in many battles, but I have read her mind for ten years. She was a warm, charitable hostess, a loving wife and, had she not been cut short I have no doubt she would have been a doting mother!”

“Cut short?” Father O'Reilly demanded, obviously upset.

Brother Bruce was contrite. “I'm sorry for the spoiler, Father, but I'm afraid Laneth dies.” Father O'Reilly chuckled, shaking a finger in scolding of the monk and his sense of humor. Turning back to Tansy, he continued. “You should be proud of your ancestress, Mrs. Cody. Please read her journal. You have my word, I have been religiously strict in my translation and have not taken a single liberty.”

Tansy carefully placed the book on her desk, looking at the almost photo-realistic drawing adorning it. She sighed and sank into her chair to give her time to organize her own feelings and formulate some way out of this predicament. “My apologies, Brother, I did not mean to impugn your work. My experiences with Laneth were in my youth and involved some rather significant trauma I don't feel the need to burden you with. Suffice to say, I am content to be Elaine Cody. I am deeply sorry I cannot shed any light on your quandary, and I will promise you, should, in the future, Laneth and I come to some peace I will ask her about this Girl. You have my word.”

The crushing disappointment was plain to read on the monk's face, but he mastered himself quickly and nodded. “Thank you, for that, Mrs Cody. At the risk of being forward, my contact information on written on the fly for you. If you have any insights to share, don't hesitate to reach out to me, no matter the hour.”

Tansy nodded, then turned back to the coffee pot and it's now full contents. “I will. Now, gentlemen, I'm happy to share what I do know and how would you like your coffee?”

October 24^th, 2016
Apartment of Jennifer Kelly and Sarah Williams, The Mill, Berlin, NH

Sarah sighed as she mounted the steps up to the new apartment she shared with Jennifer. The day had taken an unexpected toll on her, not just the usual kinds of headaches that accompanied on boarding to a new hospital. These were visceral, emotional tolls the likes of which before now she had not experienced or been prepared for. Meeting her lovers’ children had hurt as she felt the loss vicariously that Jennifer must be feeling having learned that she had children. Constance and Junior merely being Jennifer's children would have been enough to draw her affection to them, but she had simply not expected the kids to be so amazing.

Constance was an adorable miniature copy of Jennifer, and it was all Sarah could to do to stay professional and not fawn over the little girl and spoil her rotten. She was wise beyond her years and her piercing green eyes seemed to look through Sarah and her dissembling and half-truths trying to deflect the girls sometimes pointed questions. And if Junior was anything like his father, Sarah saw what would have attracted Jennifer to him. The easy-going demeanor and the quiet confidence over that impish sense of humor left no doubt in a few years the boy was going to be a teen heart throb of the first rank.

Her key turned in the lock and the door opened onto the loft-like living room. “Baby, I'm home!” she called, closing and locking the door behind her. It was apparent Jennifer had been busy as all of the books had been pulled from their boxes, and she could tell by looking they were returned to the shelves in the same arrangement they had been in while located in New York. The moving boxes had even been broken down and were stacked by the door.

“In the kitchen,” Jennifer's voice called.

Sarah followed her nose, loving the smells that lead her. “I don't know what you're making, but it smells amazing!” she complimented. She came around the doorway to find her lover's magnificent derriere artfully presented to her in her favorite pair of tight blue jeans as she bent over to remove a cast iron skillet Sarah didn't know they had from the oven.

“I was feeling...I don't know, nostalgic?” Jennifer replied as she got the skillet on the top of the stove and kicked the oven closed. “So, I looked online for some recipes and, voila!” She indicated the crock pot on the countertop, which was steaming nicely. “Southern Timberline Chili and buttermilk corn bread.”

Williams blinked in astonishment and smiled. “Soul food!” she enthused. “You remembered I wanted to try it!” Kelly smiled at her lover and drew her hair over her ear in soft, simple gesture that had Sara falling in love with her all over again.

“Yeah, well, Eidetic memory does that,” she admitted with a laugh. “So, we need to let the corn bread rest for a moment, which gives you time to wash up and I'll spoon this out. How was your day?”

Sarah got past her, pausing to kiss her cheek as she did so. “Hectic,” she admitted over the running water. “Though, I see you've been busy with the bookshelves as well.”

“Oh, that's nothing,” Kelly assured her. “Finished that before lunch.” She grinned and returned the oven mitt to its hook. “And I have an interview tomorrow, Greetings Jewelers; little mom and pop place, just around the block. Walking distance!”

“Break a leg!” Sarah teased her. Jennifer stuck her tongue out and Sarah couldn't keep in a giggle. Though, sobriety returned quickly and Kelly's face became concerned.

“Any trouble at the Academy?”

Williams dried her hands on the throw towel and returned it to the little rack for it by the sink. “I...I met them today, Jen.” She turned to look over her shoulder to see her lover paused in the action of ladling the chili into a bowl. Her question was painted on her face. “The twins,” Sarah managed around swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Why were they in the hospital?” she demanded, panic at the edge of her voice.

“They're fine!” Sarah rushed to assure her. “Fine, in fact, better than fine! My on boarding partner was a Doctor Raul Tenant, he took me to what he called a classification. Baby, your kids, they have powers, spirits.” Her fair complexion paled noticeably.

“They're mutants?” Sarah nodded and opened her arms. Jennifer put the bowl and ladle down and took the offered embrace. “Are...are they...deformed?” she whispered as if she could only just allow her imagination to consider the possibility.

“Not a bit,” Williams assured her, gently stroking her hair, noting the red roots at the base of the chestnut tresses. “Junior has taken the name Bird Boy. His spirit is some kind of bird of prey, he can transform back and forth into a huge version of it and fly.”

In the embrace, Jennifer shuddered. “And...Connie?”

Sarah licked her lips and tried to decide how much she would admit she'd learned. “She has some kind of cougar spirit, which allows something similar, but she doesn't like using the form the way Junior does. She's, they both, are fantastically smart, Jen, I was constantly amazed!” She smiled down into the up turned Irish farm girl face, an older version of the child she had just met. “She's the spitting image of you.”

Jennifer's skin reddened in a blush and she stood up, sniffing back tears and smiling, which made it hard to know if she was upset or if this was displaced pride. “What...what did she pick for a code name?”

“It...it was some kind of foreign language. Ingrid I think, something like that.”

Kelly frowned. “Well, what does it mean in English? What language was it?” For a long moment, Sarah considering lying and claiming ignorance, but her lover's all but glowing green eyes assured her any lie she tried would never be believed.

“Gaelic,” Sarah admitted after a long moment. Jennifer flinched as if she'd been struck and quickly Sarah pressed on, trying to smooth over the rough patch and get her mind somewhere else. “I'm pretty sure that's what Ms. Grimes said, but I could be wrong! She's a Divinologist and the head of their Junior High School program. She's quite an interesting lady, and I'd swear I've seen her somewhere...”

“Gaelic?” she repeated like a it was a curse, then the frown deepened into a scowl. “What does it mean in English, my Nubian Princess?” she repeated slowly in that low tone she used sometimes when her temper was threatening to get away from her.

Knowing her lover as she did, Sarah knew she was perfectly safe. In no reality she could imagine would Jennifer Kelly ever raise her hand to her, but that didn't keep them from having the rare, but spectacular argument. Williams knew it was time to come clean. “Wicked,” she admitted softly. Jennifer's hands shot up, her fists at her temples as if she was in pain. She staggered down to their breakfast table and stumbled into her chair, shaking with emotion. “Baby? Baby, I'm here...”

“What do Ah have to do to be free of that...that...God why do you try me so?!” she shouted and her head sank to the table and she began to sob. Sarah held her love and did her best to comfort her as she wailed. “Not her! Not her! Ah'll do anything, God! Anything! Mah baby! Don't take mah baby, God!” Sarah stroked the two-toned hair and held a mother desperately afraid she was going to lose her children.

October 25^th, 2016
Black Diamond Club 1012 Norman Ave, Berlin, NH

Amelia Hartford sat in her BMW for five full minutes, staring at the nondescript Private Membership Club that was the cover for the Syndicate near the school. It had been years since she'd set foot inside and wasn't prepared for the rush of memories being in this parking lot and looking at the building gave her. In her mind's eye, she saw herself, ten years younger, leading her protégé, Tansy Walcutt into the rabbit hole, as she had put it, to show her how deep it went.

A tear threatened to escape her eyes and she quickly dabbed her eye with a tissue.

“So much was stolen from us, Tansy,” she whispered. “God, why does life have to be so unfair?” Overhead, the sky flashed as if in answer and dimly from far away thunder rumbled. “I know revenge is yours,” Hartford whispered. “I'm only after justice.”

Taking the keys from the ignition, Amelia steeled herself and got out of the low-slung sports car and walked purposefully towards the door. Just as she reached it, it opened of its own accord, a familiar hulking man in a zoot suit and fedora holding it for her. His dark eyebrows rose in surprise under the hat as he touched the brim in courtesy. “Nice to have you back, Hindmost.”

“Thank you,” she replied, allowing the massive thug to help her out of her jacket, then took the ticket from the coat check girl he gave it to. “I'm expecting...”

The big man nodded again, pulling aside the beaded curtain and gestured inside. “He's waiting on you. Table fifteen, Alice,” he replied, directing the waitress who nodded and lead the way through the club. A stage had been built in the years since Amelia had frequented the club and a buxom bombshell of a brunette was belting out a mournful jazz classic in a dress that was spray painted on her.

The pair of women arrived at a table in the corner, where dark shadows hid the features of it's occupant.

“What can I bring you?” Alice asked.

Amelia listened to the ghosts of her past and smiled at the waitress. “Auslesen,” she told her, then slid into the booth. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom and allowed her to take in a bit of the massive fellow across the table from her. “How have you been, Pierre?”

One ear on the top of the killer's equine head had been pointed out, into the floor of the club, but now it slowly turned to match it's mate, focused on Amelia. “Le monde continue de tourner, ma chère,” the deep voice assured her. “You not need The Warhorse to tell you that. So, why you call me all the way up here?”

A look of pure hatred twisted Amelia's beautiful face. “I need you to dispense some justice for me.”

“Justice, she say!” the Animan chuckled. “Sitting where we are, Pierre can't help but think this is a local job, and that's dangerous territory. So, tell me, chere, who needs justice so badly you're willing to pay what I'm going to ask for a job this dangerous?” He paused for a moment, then added, “How much justice are we talking, chere?”

The smile that split Amelia's face had nothing to do with happiness or joy. “Permanent justice, Pierre.”

The equine Animan sat back in the booth for a long moment, his ears dancing on top of his head. Finally, he reached into his jacket and withdrew a cigar and cutter and began to go through the motions of getting it prepared to be smoked. “I'm listening, chere,” he assured her. “Tell Pierre all about it.”

October 28^th, 2016
Constance Cody's Bedroom, The Cody Apartment, The Village, Whateley Academy

Constance had woken to a gray morning, rain pouring down and spoiling the Saturday. It wasn't a light kind of rain either, but a heavy, and steady downpour that promised to linger all day. After breakfast, the twins mother decided she was going to work on Baby Girl and got the vintage Mustang into the garage and invited both children to help her. While Junior eagerly volunteered, cars didn't hold Connie's interest the way they did her mother and Junior. She'd gone back to her room and moped, holding her chin in her hands, propped on the windowsill, looking out into the rain and day dreaming.

Connie hated being cooped up inside. She was an outdoor girl and she wanted to go outside.

Sighing, her eyes fell on the magic mirror on her dresser that she'd been given after the adventure she and her friends had in the magic shop. On a lark, she picked it up and looked into it, vaguely wishing she could see a pretty day. To her amazement, the mirror glowed brightly for a moment, then she saw not her own reflection, but a venue of bright blue sky, framed by trees vibrantly green like in the full blush of summer. The view was straight up, as if she was lying on her back, looking up into the sky.

Amazed, she moved the mirror, but the scene in it didn't change so she couldn't alter its point of view. Still, it was a very pretty day, and it was something of a wish come true. She watched an eagle wheel high overhead and was amazed she could softly hear its hunting cry and the wind whispering through the trees as they swayed overhead. “Pretty!” she enthused, then was surprised to hear a voice through the mirror.

“Cò tha ann?”

Connie blinked in shock, this had never happened before. “Hello?” she said, leaning her face closer to the mirror in hopes that, like a telephone, it would let her voice go further. “Is someone there?”

“Seall thu fhèin!” the voice came again, closer and angry. Through the mirror, Connie heard footsteps and was encouraged.

“I'm over here!” she called.

Then, suddenly, the last thing the young girl expected to see came into view. It was a princess, she had to be! She had bright red hair that was around her head in a braid like a crown and her dress! It was the most beautiful shade of green with yellow ribbons around the neck and sleeves. Around her waist was a leather corslet and a wide leather belt and from it hung a quiver of arrows and a long knife or a short sword and in her hands was a massive wooden bow. “Hi there!” Connie cried out and the princess turned and looked down and started with surprise and shock.

“Dia air neamh!” she exclaimed and knelt down, her head to one side in amazement as she looked 'down' but 'out' of the mirror. “Dè an draoidheachd a tha seo?” she demanded in a harsh voice.

She was a beautiful princess, with bright green eyes and freckles across her nose, just like Constance's own face. “You're so pretty!” Connie told her earnestly. The princess reached down, as though to reach out through the mirror, but she touched something that rippled like water and it was several seconds before the image cleared again. “I won't hurt you,” Connie promised. “My name is Connie, what's yours?”

“Dè an cànan a bhruidhneas tu?” the princess demanded.

Connie frowned. “I can't understand you.” The princess' face softened, perhaps seeing the frustation on Connie's face. Her tone changed and then she spoke again in words that were very different from what she had been.

“Loquerisne latine?”

The change pinged something in Constance's memory, the many things Grandmother Jody had said about her work as a teacher. The Cody daughter delighted in Grandmother Jody's praises and enjoyed listening to her. Her Grandmother was deeply taken with Roman history and the Latin language and had shared that love with her granddaughter. Connie thought very hard for a moment, digging hard into her memory because the words were triggering memories. Her mother had firmly insisted - with full backing of Grandmother Jody and with her father's grudging acceptance - that if kids in ancient Jerusalem could speak Aramaic and Greek and Latin from an early age, her kids should be able to speak at least one other language - and Latin had been her mother's choice of a first foreign language to learn. As her mind recalled the lessons she'd had at her grandmother's knee, her confidence grew. Slowly, she touched her chest and carefully enunciating, she managed, “Avia mea latine loquitur. Parum didici. Mihi nomen est Constantia. Quod nomen tibi est?”

The Princess smiled and laid her hand on her breast. “Laneth,” she declared. “Laneth mac Joan, Bean Sith.”

 

Epilogue

 

October 28^th, 2016
G-Mart 2250, Berlin, New Hampshire

There were many mutants and MID holders that refused to shop in Walmart's chief competitor due to the politics of its owners. That feeling had changed in recent years with the corporation distancing itself from its founding family and being as neutral as possible on the issue. The fact that the number of mutants was rising, and thus the number of people who actually knew or were perhaps related to a mutant was also rising and thus would affect the store's bottom line eventually probably had nothing to do with that decision. Or so Jennifer Kelly liked to think ironically as she entered the store.

She had awoken with a headache this morning and mild feeling of discomfort in her abdomen that were tell tales she had learned was her body announcing its preparation for its monthly visitor. What feminine hygiene products she and Sarah had were lost in their move from New York and so she had decided to make a quick run to the local G-Mart to pick up replacements. The store was tuned to a nostalgia radio station on its muzak that seemed to think it was still the seventies or eighties, based on their selections. Still, it wasn't terribly offensive, and, unlike Walmart that used their PA system every five seconds, G-Mart used hand held radios for their in store needs which did make the shopping more pleasant.

Shopping buggy acquired, she pointed it towards the pharmacy section humming along with the tune as she went. It was a pretty simple matter to refill their supply of pads and tampons, in the process of which, a strand of hair fell across her vision, reminding her it was nearly time to touch up her dye. Jennifer hated the bright scarlet that was her hair's natural color, hated looking like what she had thought was the criminal Wicked. The nightmare that haunted her dreams and so, over Sarah's objections, she had been dying her hair for years so she would not have to face the villainess in the mirror.

Kelly pushed the buggy over a couple of aisles to hair color and began to browse. She was getting a little tired of brown and so she decided to look for something different. One caught her eye as she clucked her teeth in disapproval. On it, smiling out of photograph was the dead heroine Solange who had had an endorsement contract with the dye company, even though, rumors went her hair was naturally the color she was endorsing. The deep, icy blue eyes of the lovely heroine looked out at her, captivating Jennifer as the music changed. There came five snaps of a pair of fingers over the speakers that felt like bass kettle drums through Jennifer's mind. She keeps Moët et Chandon, In her pretty cabinet... Freddy Mercury's voice went through her ears like a bolt of lightning as Kelly looked at Solange's face on the box.

“'Let them eat cake,' she says,” Kelly whispered. “Just like Marie Antoinette...” Jennifer's eyes went wide as a tsunami washed through her mind. Tansy walked into the room with the familiar deep emerald bottle that she was pouring into a pair of flutes as she came.

She was nude, and she didn't seem to care.

She put the bottle in a sculpted electric cooler made for it and set into the side of the Jacuzzi, and then she presented Elaine with the other flute as she sat and dipped her feet into the hot tub and took a sip. "Brothers! I've tasted the stars! Thank you, brother Perignon, for your diligent contributions to winery."

In her minds eye, Jennifer felt Tansy's lips pressed against hers, tasted champagne on her tongue as the two danced in her mouth. After a timeless eternity Tansy lips withdrew and Elaine opened her eyes to find her friend's icy blue eyes had thawed and filled her vision. "I…" Tansy panted. "Can … we ...?"

Elaine licked her lips, tasting champagne and Tansy's lipstick. A shudder passed through her as her mind filled in the image of fantasies with the blonde in stark, photo-realistic detail; she realized that her hands were full of Tansy's pert, full ass.

Well versed in etiquette, Extraordinarily nice... The box slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor as she grabbed her temples and shook, over whelmed as she rode out the feelings and was swept along with them. She saw herself face to face and nose to nose with Solange, her face a mask of rage, standing in that strange open domed room. “They might avenge you, but it won’t stop me from killing you.” Tansy was livid, but as angry and humiliated as she was, there was something about her face that suggested she was getting turned on.

“You really don’t want to play rough with me, Tansy. You’ll lose.” Elaine heard herself say.

She's a Killer Queen... In desperation, she grabbed the cart to stay up right. In her mind, Jennifer Kelly screamed as she was buffeted on all sides in a torrent. Then up from the whirlpool rose a memory of a cave that somehow also had a hot tub, Tansy had leaned forward and was crushing her mouth with the intensity of a kiss only the elation of love and forgiveness can fuel. For an eternity their tongues danced as their bodies were pressed together in the warm water. Finally they withdrew, both panting in breathless arousal to allow Tansy to remark, "you know, it occurs to me that for all the romping you and I have enjoyed in our dreams, in the real world I've only kissed you."

The redhead's hands were roaming in a wonderful tour below the water. "Would… Would you like to remedy that?"

"I thought you'd never ask," panted Tansy and she leaned forward to rejoin the kiss. Jennifer moaned whether in pain or passion or something within her demanding to break free she had no idea. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into the concerned face of one of the store’s employees.

“Miss, are you alright?”

Guaranteed to blow your mind...! Nodding, terribly embarrassed, she bent over to pick up the box and once more the face of Solange looked out at her. Suddenly there was no gravity as she floated, looking over at the beautiful blonde before a picture wall of the Earth from space. Tansy floated, nude, in front of this clear wall, spellbound as the Earth turned below her.

From the little mini fridge, Lanie removed a pair of free fall pouches of Dom Pérignon and then gently pushed off the wall to float over to Tansy. "She keeps Moët & Chandon, in her pretty cabinet..." she sang as the two young women met in the middle of this massive window. Tansy smiled and kissed her lover's forehead.

"'Let them eat cake' she says, Just like Marie Antoinette!'" she sang as they embraced, then Tansy took the small strap attached to the belt she was wearing and clicked it on the matching belt around Elaine's waist, tethering the two together. That accomplished, she pushed the straw into the pouch and took a sip, the champagne tasting faintly of plastic. She reached out and kissed her wife with deep, tender passion. "I love you," she whispered as they parted, her blonde hair in a halo around her head.

"It will be alright," Lanie assured her as they held each other and looked out the huge window at the planet of their birth. "Come and stay with Wyatt and me in Georgia for a spell. Maybe even take some classes, Ah'm sure you could get into Tech or Emory if you wanted. We'll just learn for a bit and forget we can do these things."

Tansy smiled and took another sip from the straw. "That sounds wonderful. Just be people for a little while, normal college kids; no powers, no saving the world. God, that sounds wonderful."

Jennifer looked for the last time at the picture of her wife on the bottle of hair dye in her hand then turned away from the concern of the employee, embarrassed and confused, trying to make sense of what she had just experienced, to find order in the chaos of all this information. Her eye turned down the aisle to the book section that was across the walkway from the pharmacy. There, a pair of workers were just finishing a display with a life-sized marquee next to a collection of books. On it was the red haired barbarian of her nightmares, astride a horse that was black, but was not Stomper. Across the marquee it proclaimed Come and Read the Memoirs of A Banshee! Meet Laneth Mac Joan, Bean Sith and within her something broke; the information suddenly gained context and order. Jennifer jerked and she remembered.

“Oh...shit...” whispered Lanie.

 

* Finis *