Hellcats

by

Bek D Corbin

 

PROLOGUE: Okay, let's make sure that we're all on the same page here. About three years ago, there was a major epidemic of a gengineered strain of Syphilis. No, it wasn't a terrorist attack or anything. The strain had been engineered by a British genetics lab, in the hopes of creating Smart Drugs that were more than just placebos. You see, Syphilis has three stages. In its first stage, it's mostly harmless but very contagious. Think of it as a 'stealth mode'. In its third stage, it can make people blind or sterile, or drive them insane or even kill them. But, in its second stage, it does strange and wonderful things to the human brain. People with Syphilis in its secondary stage somehow become smarter, more creative, and they have incredible flashes of insight. Not being fool enough to infect humans with the gengineered strain, the researchers infected pigs, which are a lot like humans in the way that their brains are set up. The researchers would harvest the neurotransmitters in the pig's brain through little reservoirs implanted in the pig's brains, and then they would try to figure out which neurotransmitter made you smarter, which one made you more creative and so on.

Then a mutant strain developed in one of the test pigs. The strain could not only pass from the pig to others through the pig's sweat, but it could pass over to humans. But anybody who messes around with something like Syphilis should expect something like this and be prepared. The researchers put the pig in a holding pen to be destroyed. Unfortunately, the lab was targeted by a group of Animal Rights activists, who broke in and 'liberated' the animals. Now, while you or I might argue the wisdom of doing this, at least the activists were smart enough to recognize a biohazard tag when they saw it. Too bad they spotted it too late, and they were already infected.

While they were genuinely concerned about the lives of laboratory animals, the activists were also genuinely concerned about their own, and turned themselves in. The British health authorities put them in quarantine, and threw every antibiotic they had at the mutant strain. Finally, all the tests showed clear, and the activists were let go. Two of the activists decided that they really needed a vacation after three months in Quarantine. One went to sunny California, and the other went on a trip to Egypt and the Holy Land.

A happy ending, and tragedy narrowly avoided, right?

Wrong. The onslaught of antibiotics hadn't wiped out the mutant strain of Syphilis; it had only created an antibiotic resistant strain that normal tests didn't detect as Syphilis. The activists' travels took them through Heathrow, Orly, Rome, Cairo, JFK, O'Hare and LAX airports - terminals with some of the heaviest air traffic in the world. And they were infectious every step of the way, infecting fellow travelers and (more importantly) the flight attendants. A sneeze here, a touch there, or a shared cup was all you needed to pass along the spirochete (that's a kind of bacteria). The system of modern air travel carried the disease to every corner of the world, and it was years before anyone caught on that anything was happening. The Syphilis strain kept mutating, and dogs, cats, rats and other animals that spend a lot of time in the company of humans were infected as well.

Ironically, it was a veterinarian who first identified the strain in a diseased cat.

After about five years, the first stage of the disease started to lapse, and the second stage began. A brief, six year Golden Age of the Arts and Sciences began, with every field showing fantastic achievements - even the branch of medicine that was furiously trying to find a way to keep the Parasyphilant (as the mutant strain was named) from going into the deadly third stage.

Then The Dying started.

People started dying of conditions and diseases that were made worse by the Para-syphilant. People went mad, and killed themselves and others doing things that, well, I'd really rather not talk about. In a three-year stretch, over Four Billion people died. But, those people whom the Syphilis was still making smart managed to come up with a grab bag of measures to either kill off the strain or keep it from going into the third stage.

And then something happened that made things even worse - Ghosts. In the period of three years, more people died than had lived from the founding of Sumer to the dawn of the 20^th Century. This much release of psychic energy, especially in the tormented mindset caused by the insanity of the Parasyphilant, somehow not only created the conditions for a haunting on a global scale, but it fueled the reawakening of things that the modern age had more or less forgotten. After centuries, it was again a time when Devils walked the Earth.

Once their existence was proven, Scientists decided that Ghosts, Goblins, Devils and other kinds of bogeys are basically self-perpetuating 'whirlpools' of psychic energy. In order to keep going, these 'Devils' have to tap into various kinds of sources of energy. And, wouldn't you know it, the primo source of those energies just happens to be very strong human emotions, like fear, anger, hate, and greed. Scientists believe that 'Devils' don't really think, the way that we know thinking. They say that these things are just mindless pools of psychic energy. But, being psychic energy, they mirror one of the most powerful urges in the human psyche - the survival instinct. So, they have a drive to survive and breed. And to do that, they have to do some really strange things, the most obnoxious being killing humans in really traumatic ways.

After thousands of years, Humans weren't at the top of the food chain anymore.

Another Billion or so of us died before we figured out ways of fighting back. Heck, we even discovered ways of trapping the unholy suckers and using them to do things like heal wounds, detoxify chemical wastes and cause barren fields to become fertile. Not only could we get rid of the nasty boogers, we could put them to good use.

And so, a new profession was born - Devil Hunters. Men and women who go out into the haunted areas, looking for Devils and Goblins and Ghosts (oh my!) to bag and put to good use. They use modern equipment, ancient lore, psychic gifts and good old-fashioned guts to do the job. Unfortunately, that isn't always enough.

CHAPTER ONE: Who You Gonna Call?

The van barreled through the streets, sirens blazing and lights flashing. Seraphim Protective Services isn't an official agency, but like ambulances, it was recognized that when we had to get someplace, we had to get there quick.

Our van pulled up beside a line of cars and vans parked in front of a dilapidated semi-ruin. What remained of a sign said that it had once been the Willow Crest Mall. Thurston, Begley, Abrams, Castellano and I piled out of the van. Three of the vans were school buses, two were ambulances, and the sixth was a Rescue Services unit. There were two police cruisers, and the officers were talking to a large group of kids. Thurston was the one who dealt with the Cops, so he went to see what the buzz was as the others pulled the gear out of the van.

"So, what happened?"

"High School field trip. The kids were checking out the ruins, and something crawled out and grabbed a few of them."

"What the hell were a bunch of school kids doing, down in that pile of scrap?"

A middle-aged woman who had all the marks of a teacher came up. "It was an Applied Dynamics class. The children were supposed to find and map out the lines of Positive and Negative force."

Thurston looked at the Cop. The Cop explained, "This place used to be a real hive. Two years ago, the City had Matthews' Hunters and Thunderhammer Protection clean it out. It was supposed to be clean, and structurally sound. Nobody wants to spend the money to fix the place up, so the only use that anybody ever gets out of the place is as a Feng Shui lesson. Apparently, something moved in when no one was looking."

"OR Matthews and Thunderhammer missed something, and it hid until it was big enough to grab a few kids. How many are missing? Did anyone see what grabbed them? Single or multiple? A mob or an army?"

The teacher sighed. "Seven are missing. Three girls, four boys. It tried to grab Danny Erlinger and LeShaun Clay, too, but they managed to get away. Miss Arbuthnot managed to Deny it, but she didn't get a good look it. Danny and LeShaun are too traumatized by what they saw to tell us anything just yet." She looked up at Thurston. She had memories of the Dying Time, you could tell it from her eyes. "How bad do you think it is?"

Thurston sighed. "Bad, but I definitely think they're still alive. Grabbing that many usually means that the devil has plans beyond a quick snack. How long ago was this?"

"I'd say maybe forty minutes or so."

Thurston turned to the Cop. "You have the perimeter surrounded?"

"We've got units coming, but there are only four of us here right now, and we have our hands full with these kids."

"What about the two that got out?"

"Miss Arbuthnot is guiding them through deep meditation to temper the trauma. It will probably take a while before they can say anything."

"Damn. We need to have a better idea of what we'll be dealing with, but we can't wait for them to come out of it. Miss- what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. It's Mrs. Overholt."

"Okay, Mrs. Overholt, this is my link number. Have your Miss Arbuthnot bring them out as quickly as possible. When you can get an intelligent reply out of those kids, call me and give us whatever information you can. Also, I want you to scan your Applied Dynamics master flowchart of that place and download it into this address - it's our database. Right now, we're going in. Officer, as soon as those units get here, I want a perimeter around that pile, understand?"

With that, Thurston rejoined the team and we assumed a penetration formation to go in. Begley was point, with me as his sideman. Thurston and Abrams had their salt-loaded shotguns ready, and Castellano had his focus ready to Deny anything that jumped out at us. As we approached the ruined retail center, Thurston filled us in on the particulars.

Begley and I tried out a succession of pendulums as we entered the underground shopping area. "Okay, I got a reaction on the Carborundum crystal. Adjust your loads accordingly, people!" The team lightened our loads by putting the gear that we now knew wouldn't be needed in a heap near the gateway.

I looked into my eyepiece. "Got a download. It's the Dynamics scan of this place. Lemme just...hold on, folks. Houston, We Have A Problem."

"What is it, Greg?"

"The Dynamics scan for this place are totally off. I should have a northward descending Positive Node right about here, but if anything there's a westward ascending Negative flow."

"Westward ascending? What time is it?"

"Almost 4 o'clock. The Class must have been running slow. And it's October."

"_Shit._ Okay, what do we have? We have what appears to be a devil powerful enough to grab and hold seven kids, and it's getting close to Feeding Time. The place used to be very powerfully charged, but it was cleared out three years ago."

"Yeah, but it was cleared out by Thunderhammer, which probably means that they used those damn flashy voltage throwers of theirs."

"Give 'em a break, Greg. Those things work - you just gotta be careful about how you clean up afterwards."

"Which apparently, they didn't. So, if Thunderhammer was using those Watt-hogs of theirs, and this place was jumping so badly, then they probably weren't using the backpacks. They probably tapped into the main transformer and used that to power their equipment. Walt, do you think Thunderhammer accidentally created a breeding node around the main transformer point?"

Thurston nodded. "OR, one of the devils hid right under their noses while Matthews and Thunderhammer cleared out the competition."

I requested another download. "Okay, the main transformer is right over there." As the team carefully proceeded over to the mall's main power junction, I compared the pendulum and dowsing rod results that I was getting to known patterns on my database.

The mall's main power room was clearly marked with the yellow-and-black warning stripes, but the door was open. "Christ, it's a Wino's nest! God, what a stink!"

"More like a hobo's jungle. There are at least twenty rolls in here and- Jesus Christ!" Castellano had pulled back a grimy bedroll, revealing a well-decomposed body. A quick search revealed about twelve more bodies.

"Where are the others?" Begley wondered. "It's not like winos to walk away from their bundles."

"Oh, they're around here somewhere. But check this out." Abrams held up three shaped wads of aluminum foil. One was a dome, the second was a squarish box, and the third was shaped like a kid's paper bicorn hat. "I think these guys were probably your classic schizophrenics."

I took one of the hats and examined it. "That doesn't make any sense! Schizos are the last people to come down into a haunted area, let alone into a power room! They're too sensitive to the emanations of both kinds of power!"

"Maybe our bogie is a Siren, using some kind of lure that the schizos are open to?"

"No, our bogie is a Pouncer, not a Siren. It jumped out and grabbed a kid, and tried to grab two more. Goblins don't change a successful tactic like that."

"Okay, how about this? This thing was probably able to hide in here from the Mop-Up Crews, so it must have hidden its signature from them by mixing it with the power cables. But this also affects the power cables, so that they aren't giving off the EMFs that piss the schizos off so much. So, this place becomes a primo place for schizophrenics to come where they can get some peace from all the communications chatter that's driving them nuts. It's sort of a reverse lure - our bogie doesn't have to do anything, just wait around for the next nutjob to come stumbling in and go to sleep. Then it's lunch time."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why it grabbed the kids."

"Hey, after a while, even Schizos catch on. So, after a long free lunch, its not getting any food, so it goes and grabs the first thing with a vital charge that comes its way."

"Nice theory, Ben, but it doesn't work - this body is just under a week old."

"Yeah, and the reading on this place is all wrong. Our bogie isn't hungry... Oh, shit! It isn't in feeding mode - it's in breeding mode!"

The team piled out of the power room, with Begley and me casting about furiously for any signs. "Nothing. It must learned how to mask itself outside the power room."

"Hold on." Abrams thought for a while and then put it all together. "It grabbed a bunch of kids, right? Young, healthy, probably horny as hell kids. If it's in breeding mode, maybe it's going to try the 'Rosemary's Baby' schtick."

"But that would require an evenly matched number from each sex. It grabbed seven kids - why the extra?"

"It was trying to grab another girl, remember? Maybe it didn't even really want the boy."

"Okay, that works - but where does it get us?"

"We may not be able to track the devil, but there are seven living and very frightened kids in here somewhere. They should be doing something to the flow of energy in here!"

Begley produced a gold and a silver pendant and started studying the way they swung, as I pulled out my dowsing rods. We closely watched the swing of the pendulums. I looked at the rods with a raised eyebrow. "I have something, but it ain't fear - it's...Lust, I think. Pure, animal lust..."

"That cannot be good. Which way?"

Moving as fast as we could without messing up either the pendulums or the dowsing rods, the team swept down the main gallery of the mall.

"Hold it - we have something..." The team immediately formed a protective circle around Castellano, who started saying his rosary. If anything nasty popped out at them, he'd be ready to Deny it.

Always looking at my pendulum, I readied my bident, even as Abrams did the same. Then they came, blurry, vaguely quadripedal forms that moved in quick jerks of fast movement. There were at least twenty of the things. Thurston prepared the cages, and then he steadied himself. He began 'luring' the things, creating a false 'acceptance' that would draw the goblins toward him, to where his teammates could get them. It was risky, but he had complete faith in his partners. Fittingly, it was a variation on the 'siren' technique that some goblins used.

The creatures came, drawn by Thurston's lure. "These things must be Imps that the Goblin created to deal with us. Scott, snag one but don't can it. We can use it to find its daddy."

"If it can split off that many Imps from itself, I don't think that I want to find its daddy."

One by one, the imps entered Abrams' and my range and were picked up with the bidents and stashed in the cage. When Abrams could safely handle the rest, I snagged one and held it in my bident. There was something about it....

"Something's wrong here. These aren't Imps."

"What do you mean?"

"These things aren't connected to our bogey. Each of them has an independent matrix."

"So, they're not connected with the devil that grabbed the kids?"

"No, I think they're like Imps, but they aren't still part of the parent devil's matrix. Even if they fed, I think that most likely that they would have faded on their own. I think these are more like 'sparks' that it's shedding."

"Why would it do that?"

"Well, given the situation, I'd say that it's probably part of the critter's breeding process - getting rid of extraneous energy while it pares itself down for mitosis."

"Which means that we aren't weakening it at all by catching these damn things, we're just wasting precious time. Let's go!

The trail, such as it was, led to the Cineplex.

"So, which theater do y'think it's in?"

"Well, given the circumstances, I'd say that the theater that was last showing a horror movie is as good a bet as any!"

"Just a second guys!" I warned them. "I think I have a probable: If the 'sparks' echo the original the same way Imps do, and given their particular frequency, the Pouncer nature of the original, its stealthy nature and its sympathy with the copper in the wiring that it would need to hide from Matthews and Thunderhammer, I'd say that our boy is a Hellcat, Entry Code: C/14/26."

The team checked their personal computers for the 'Hellcat' file. Castellano blanched. "Oh, Shit. It breeds in fucking litters! And it can possess!"

Abrams nodded. "I'll bet it's trying to possess all of the boys in tandem and have them impregnate the girls all at the same time. According to this, Hellcat possession usually leaves the host with no memories of what happened during the possession."

"So, the kids 'miraculously escape', and a few months later, a batch of incarnated demons claw their ways out of the girls' wombs." While 'devils' and 'goblins' were basically mutually reinforcing packets of psychic energy that could temporarily manifest a physical form or possess the physical bodies of living beings, a 'demon' entered the form of embryos before they could form their own psychic pattern, and twisted the unborn into a shape that the demon was more comfortable with. Demons had most of the powers of devils and goblins, and few of their weaknesses. Killing the 'mother' was the first, but usually not the worst of the Demon's atrocities.

I flipped through the file as a matter of habit, not really expecting the listing that I was looking for. Don't expect - that narrows your vision and limits your perceptions. Don't want - if you want, you set up a charge that pushes the object of your desire away. Don't need - that makes you vulnerable to Demonic Temptation. But there it was! "Uh, Guys, more bad news - these things can Curse."

"Does it say how?"

"Physical transformations. It can plant its 'seed', and the poor schmuck becomes a Were."

"Hey, that's not so bad! Liz Shinmakage over at Matthews' is a Were-Fox, and she does all right by it!"

"Yeah, but Liz has the Fox Spirit that did it to her in a Jar, and that's 'cause her partners bagged the varmint right after it put the bite on her. If they hadn't, she'd either be in a Were Ward screaming her lungs out every full moon or out in the Wrack, acting as its shill. Take the precautions." I reached into a pocket, produced an amulet of jade and put it around my neck, carefully making sure that it sat over my 'heart' chakra. Then I put a small jade lozenge under my tongue. The others did likewise.

I centered myself, pulled a pattern out of my memory and carefully overlaid that pattern on the jade amulet. The amulet, with which I had overlaid this pattern several times, soaked up the pattern like a sponge. Good. But don't get your hopes up. You've been through this before. Don't try to make it happen. If it happens, good. If not, there's always another time. Don't force it. It either will or it won't.

Actually, the trail of the Lust signal didn't lead into the theater that had last shown a horror movie - the theater had shown a romantic comedy. There, up on the 'stage' where the screen had been ripped away long ago, were all seven kids. They were all together, arranged in a pattern. Around them was an irregular circle of bits of glass and metal, with a cigarette smoldering in just the right place to keep a Positive ascending charge from flowing in from the East. The girls were lying down on the stage, their heads together, their bodies pointing out in a tri-star. They were writhing to a bit of orchestral music coming from a personal stereo placed outside the circle, moving as if they were trying to crawl out of their clothing like a snake shedding its skin.

Three of the boys were standing between the girls' bodies. They were facing inwards, and they were all trying to choke the life out of the fourth boy. They had these grins of vicious glee on their faces, and even the boy who was blue in the face from being strangled was looking like he was having a good time.

Begley fired a shot at the cigarette, the salt blasting it out of its position. "This is it, boys! Remember, don't hurt the kids! Scott, Thurston - Staffs! Use the silver end! Abrams - Bident! Castellano, get that creep OUT of them!"

We didn't really need to be told, this was drill. Still, it was a statement. When you're dealing with demons and devils, it's best not to give them too much leeway.

Thurston and I unlimbered our 'thumping sticks' made of ash and oak, and capped with raw iron on one end and silver on the other. In order for Castellano to Deny the devil-fragment out of the boys, he had to be able to lay hands on them and concentrate. He couldn't do that if they were trying to rip his throat out. While the devil was in them, they were inhumanly strong and tough, and they'd fight like, well, devils. But the silver and oak that capped and made up one end of the staff would slip right past their protections. This wasn't a guess. A lot of good men and women had died proving it.

With Begley covering them with the shotgun, Thurston and I waded into the circle. As soon as Begley had blasted the cigarette, the boys dropped their sacrifice and turned, still grinning, to face us. As one, they gave the kind of unnerving yell that the Norse Berserkers of eld had used when they ran into battle - and charged.

But being superhumanly strong, tough and brave doesn't make you a good hand to hand fighter. I whipped the silver tip right into one boy's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Neither the devil nor the boy was expecting him to be hurt by this, and he folded. As he bent over, I whipped the oak length down across the back of the kid's head. "Begley! He's all yours!"

As Begley got the stunned boy into a Full Nelson grip so that Castellano could do his thing, I went to help the overwhelmed Thurston. Thurston wasn't fool enough to take the offensive on two possessed kids, so he was strictly on the defensive. I came up behind the kid with the retro-50's ducktail and clipped him upside the head. This didn't work as well as it had on the first kid, but at least Thurston was in a position to handle the kid with the shaven head.

Castellano pressed both hands on the head of the boy and called out to Saint Peter to help him drive the devil out of this poor boy. The boy opened his mouth and let out a soul-searing shriek. With the shriek came a barely perceptible wisp of devil-smoke. Abrams was on it like a cat pouncing on a mouse. He stabbed at it with his bident, getting the devil-shard between the tines. The field that ran between the points kept the devil-shard from escaping, and Abrams shoved it into one of the ten compartments of the containment 'jar'. Castellano covered the mouth of the unconscious boy with a gauzy tape that had a warding charm worked on it. "One down, nine to go!"

When he heard this, Thurston did a three-part combination to his opponent's knee, side and head in order. As the boy reeled, Thurston leveraged him over to Begley. This was the procedure. Procedure is good. Procedure has each member of the team doing something necessary, making sure that everything is covered.

But, in Devil-hunting, procedure can also be a hazard. Devils combine the worst of both mindlessness and rational thinking. Devils are mindless packets of energy, but they are packets of psychic energy, which reflects the mentalities of the people around it. Like a flood battering at a dam, it relentlessly looks for any crack or weakness in the thing that's trying to oppose it. So, with demonic 'cunning' and persistence, it played the one card that could beat us - sheer numbers.

The girls got up off the floor and came at us like a pack of furies. But, they were a bunch of sixteen-year-old girls, and not very hefty ones at that. It was annoying, and Thurston and I were getting an impressive collection of scratches and bruises, but the assembly line kept working. One by one, the students were taken down and exorcised, and the evicted devil-bit tucked away in the jar. As the last girl gave up the 'ghast', it was all over but the paperwork. Despite myself, I was a tad disappointed.

Or at least, that's how it looked.

"Wait a minute - each of these had one Monad in them - but a devil has ten! Where are the last four?"

We all looked at the boy who'd looked like he was being sacrificed. He was sprawled over the circle of junk that had ringed the ritual. The second that he felt our attention on him, he got up on his knees and grabbed a long, sharp length of iron. With another rattling scream, he threw the improvised spear with a burst of incredible strength. But he didn't throw it at any of us.

It clicked in my mind the instant the shaft left the kid's hand. "Scatter! It's gonna-" As I jumped and shouted, the 'spear' impaled the containment jar, cracking the seals on all ten compartments.

There was an explosive discharge of electricity, which threw the others to the ground.

As I struggled to get up, I felt something ethereal whiz past me over to where the wreckage of the containment jar was. I fished around for my bident. I was the utility man on the team - Begley was the Scout, Thurston was the Lure, Abrams was the Catcher and Castellano was the Denier. But I could do all their jobs. I could fill in for them if they had their hands full, and I spent a lot of time backing one or the other of them up in their duties. I was alone, but I was still capable of handling the critter.

Don't think about it, you'll only jinx it. Just do your job and focus on getting that thing in your bident, so that you can cram it into the backup jar.

And there it was, pulling itself together. It was now a blurry quadripedal form, that would be invisible to most eyes. There was definitely something feline about it. Nobody is sure if its behavior was feline because its form was, or if its form was feline because people perceived that its behavior was. It finished pulling itself together. It had had to split apart in order to enter the kids to breed, and so it hadn't been able to defend itself very well. But now, it was whole again, and it was probably hungry. I carefully avoided thinking that the Hellcat would be angry at this ectoplasmic coitus interuptus; if I thought that it was angry, it would act in an angry and aggressive way.

I studied it, and it studied me, our attentions linked like a chain. I knew that if I tried to jump it, that it wouldn't even have to dodge me. My own aggressive charge would repel it until it changed its own charge to suck me in and devour me. It was the oldest trick in the demon-hunter book. I made my mind a blank, dealing only with the moment. I felt the charge on the other end of the 'link' build. It was getting ready to attack. I threw out a 'lure', a path of non-resistance, which led to my Heart Chakra and the jade amulet. The jade lozenge under my tongue would keep it from my Throat Chakra and he had my Brow Chakra tightly shut against it. It would have to go to my heart, to try to get to me.

Then the boy that threw the 'spear' gave out a moan, and tried to struggle to his feet. Like a river running to the sea, the devil chose the path of least resistance. The boy had housed part of its being before - he was a much better target than the strange newcomer with all the wards and traps.

The Hellcat leaped for the boy, but I was still attuned enough to it to get my bident between them. The bident caught the devil, and I pulled it out of the path of transit, cutting it off from its way to the boy. Now it only had one place to go. Jerking the bident around, I tried to maneuver it to the Hellcat's Heart Monad. If I could rip the Heart Monad out of the devil's energy matrix, most of its power would lack any kind of focus, and I could stuff the others into the backup jar one at a time.

Then I stepped on a live wire that was part of the circle of junk. It wasn't a bare wire, so I wasn't shocked, but suddenly, I was grounded. The Hellcat flowed down the bident, and into my Heart Chakra.

I let out a scream, but I managed to hold onto my concentration. This was it! Keep the pattern in mind! Don't let the devil determine the matrix! Stay in control! Remember who you are! Remember who you will be!

Abrams and Castellano struggled to their feet, and snapped to complete attention when they heard me scream. Then looked to the source of the yowl, and saw me drop the bident and begin to pull at the Hellcat as it 'clawed' at me. "Sweet Jesus, No!" Castellano moaned. He and Abrams scrambled for their equipment.

As the energy flowed through the jade amulet, I felt every part of my body be awash with cold fire. Stand the pain. Let it do what YOU want it to. Let it create the pattern that YOU want. But no - the energy coursed through every fiber of my being. In my research, I knew that this wasn't what being Were'd was like. It wasn't trying to snack on me, and turn me into something that would bring it more food - it was trying to completely enter me and change me into a Monstrosity that would kill my partners! But I'd planned against that... No, wait - that stupid grounding wire!

I managed to jerk my foot off the grounding wire, and focused all my will to Deny the devil. I felt the devil begin to lose its footing, and then he just ran out of juice. I didn't feel Castellano lay hands on me, or Abrams pulling at the Hellcat. I just felt as is I was falling into a deep, dark well. So, this is what going to Hell is like, I thought to myself. I expected more fire and brimstone...

My eyes hurt. My mouth hurt. My body hurt. Every part of my body hurt. Even my hair hurt. So, I reasoned, I must still be alive! I took several deep breaths, centered and shut out the pain. My body was whole. So far, so good. No gaping wounds or big charred pits - better and better! Then I felt some things sticking into me. IV needles, a breathing cannula, and something really weird sticking into my groin. I must either be in an ambulance gurney or on a hospital bed! No jolts, no siren - not an ambulance. Yes, I felt starched linen sheet against my skin. Yep, hospital bed.

Then I remembered why I was in a hospital bed. I tried to move, to get up, but my arms and legs were strapped down.

I managed to get my eyes open. There was some stray light coming from a window, but otherwise the room was dark. "Hello?" I murmured. "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer.

Well, this is going to get real boring real soon, I thought to myself. So, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

There was a strange quality about my dreams. As if there were someone looking over my shoulder.

CHAPTER TWO: 'Where's Marcus Welby when you really need him?'

I was awake three times before anything interesting happened. I heard Abrams' voice on the other side of a door. Gathering all my strength, I shouted, "BEN! Ben, is that you?"

There was the sound of raised voices, and Abrams came through the door, followed by a hefty and loudly complaining nurse. "She is NOT permitted to have visitors! Doctors' orders!"

"Hey Ben! How are ya?"

"Greg? Greg, is that you?"

"Do I look that different? What did that stupid spook do to me?"

"Haven't they let you get a look at yourself?"

"Are you kidding? You're the first person that I've spoken to since I woke up - PERIOD! And I can't get a look at myself 'cause they got me strapped down! Thank god they got me catheterized, or I'da pissed on myself by now."

Abrams turned to the nurse. "Why is she strapped down like that?" SHE? He said she! It worked! God bless us all, I thought to myself, it worked! After all that time and planning, it finally worked! I managed to hide my joy - it was much better to be thought of as a brave victim of a tragic curse than a pervo.

"She's strapped down, because it's hospital policy to prevent hospital personnel from being unnecessarily exposed to a dangerous freak."

"What are you talking about, dangerous? Even if that spook did manage to Were me, it can't influence me while it's in containment. And once they boil it down for parts, I'm free and clear!"

"Ahhh...Greg - I got some bad news about that..."

"Ben, you did bag that thing, didn't you?"

"Ahhh..._No_. When it 'bit' you, it did something weird-"

"Yeah, I know - it tried to do the 'raging monstrosity' number on me, and sic me on you guys."

"Greg, it set you on fire! I mean that literally! You went up in a wreath of blue fire. It went out the second that I pulled that 'Cat out of you, but afterwards, you looked like a charbroiled skeleton! There was this God-awful stench, and we thought you were dead! Anyway, while Ray and I were coping with this, the 'Cat lit out like its tail was on fire. It got through the Blues; we don't know where it is right now."

"Hold on - you said that I looked like a skeleton? That can't be - the first thing I did was to check my body out. I got all my parts, and my skin is good working order - at least, that I can tell."

Abrams looked at the nurse. She sneered, "It's a Were - it regenerated that body up from a virtual skeleton. It slurped up stem-cell solution like it was root beer. Don't know why we bothered."

"Does the phrase 'Hippocratic Oath' ring any bells?" Abrams sneered back.

"Whatever. You. Out. She's not to have any visitors - Doctor's Orders."

"Why would Doc Biryukov put her in solitary?"

"Her _doctor_ is Doctor Lender."

"_NO_, her regular attending physician is Doctor Leonard Biryukov. It says so in her wallet, with the rest of her Seraphim Protective Services ID. Has Doc Biryukov been notified?"

"We are very busy here-"

"I don't like the sounds of this, Ben! Call Doc Birk, and have him get me out of here!"

Abrams started to say something, but two burly orderlies burst in and hustled him out. The nurse left right after them, leaving me alone again in the dark.

The damn Hellcat got away. Shit. This complicated things badly. Even when Doc Birk verified that I was in control of my own body and no danger to anyone, there was no way that Deverel would let me work for Seraphim as long as the Hellcat was loose. And how could you be sure that a particular Hellcat was the one that bit me? To finally come to the cure for my 'disease', only to lose my career. Damn. If I was going to have to put up with this kind of crap, then I might as well have gone through SRS!

I was still tired (who wouldn't be?), and was soon asleep again. Then a hand on my shoulder shook me awake. 'Nurse Ratchett' was there, with a young man wearing glasses, a lab coat and a stethoscope. For some reason, the light was so bright that it hurt my eyes. "Whuzzup?"

The young man with the doctor attitude stepped forward and said briskly, "You are Gregory Bruno Scott?"

"Yeah, that's me. Or what's left of me."

"I understand that you wish to leave the hospital."

"I _wish_ to see Doctor Leonid Biryukov. Getting out of these stupid restraining straps would be vastly appreciated, too."

"Before you leave, there are a few formalities to be observed. Sign these documents, and you will leave this hospital."

My 'danger sense' went off with five bells and a siren. The 'good doctor' had something up his sleeve. Like many survivors of the Parasyphilant, I have a touch of 'ESP'; unlike most survivors, I also have the discipline and drive to hone those talents into usable skills. They are a vital part of my job as a devil-hunter. Yes, Doctor Lender - that's what the nametag on his lab coat said - was a little too intense about this. My suspicious nature suggested to me that the doctor was trying to get me to sign something that I shouldn't.

But the doctor was using the old 'leaf in a forest' trick. The sheaf of paperwork was at least an inch thick.

"First things first, Doc. Undo these stupid straps! After all, I can't write if my hands are tied up!"

The doctor nodded to the nurse, who undid one strap. It smelled more and more like a set-up. If they were going to let me out, they'd undo the straps as a matter of course.

When my hand was free, I held it out for the clipboard of documents. Then I finally got a good look at a part of my body. My hand was small, delicate, graceful - and clawed.

"The other arm? I'd like to see what I'm signing?" When the strap came off, I took the clipboard. On an inspiration, I tried a variation on an old 'Lie Detector' trick. In the old days, if they wanted to find a place and their suspect wasn't helping, interrogators would hitch the suspect up to the polygraph, but they wouldn't ask him any questions. They'd just start talking about their search efforts to each other, and point out various places on the map. As they talked about searching a particular area and it was where whatever they were looking for was, the subject's level of tension would rise.

It wasn't exact, but it was a good way of narrowing down search areas.

With that in mind, I flipped through the clipboard. Towards the end, the doctor's intensity got very high. I looked through the papers in that section. I recited the names of the documents.

"Will you get on with it?" the doctor snapped.

"Never sign anything that you haven't read. You should know that, Doctor."

Then I came to a standard release of information form, and the doctor's level of tension went through the roof. I read through it. It was a very simple, routine form that allowed the hospital to share information from my tests and records. Nothing terribly sinister in that...

But the doctor's tension was through the roof.

"I'm not signing this."

"Why not? It's a simple, routine form - it allows us to share information with other hospitals and researchers. It isn't very important."

There's something that you're not telling me, I thought. And whatever it is, it's a pip. "I'm not...comfortable...with sharing that kind of information just yet."

"It's hospital policy for that form be filled out prior to releasing the patient."

"It may be policy, but you don't have the right to hold me against my will, policy or not. As soon as Doc Biryukov gives me a clean bill of health, I'm out of here." I cut the form from the rest with a claw.

"GOD DAMN IT! Sign the damn form!"

I crumpled the pages up in my hand.

The room exploded. 'Nurse Ratchett' grabbed my arms and screamed for the orderlies. It took both of them to keep me down while she got a hypodermic ready, even though I was still strapped to the bed. I fought them with everything that I had, but she still managed to inject me. As the drug started to take effect, she snarled at the doctor, "Shoulda done that from the get-go. The Pound is where that kind of freak belongs, anyway."

The Pound? The Were Ward? For the first time, I was truly scared, down to my bones. 'The Pound' was were the captive Weres were kept. It was a snake pit, and everybody knew it. The wardens viewed the inmates as monsters and treated them that way. It was an open scandal, but nobody did anything. After all, they were just freaks - why waste money on decent quarters for them? Once I was committed to the Pound, I'd be an animal for all practical purposes - the hospital could requisition my records, or even my body for experimental purposes, and nobody would stop them.

Once the drug had weakened me enough, the orderlies strapped me into a straightjacket, slipped a 'Hannibal Lector' style muzzle on my face, and got me into a wheelchair. Like it or not, I was on my way to the Pound.

There was no hope of conveniently running into anyone I knew in the lobby. But I had one ace up my overlong sleeve. While they'd been strapping me in, I'd been fighting them every inch of the way. I'd made sure that the straightjacket had appeared to be on tight, but it was actually rather loose. It was a variation on an old Stage Magicians' trick, normally used to get out of handcuffs. When they put me in the wheelchair, I completely relaxed, as if the combination of exhaustion and the drug had put me in a stupor. In truth, my Were state was fighting the drug, and I wasn't as logy as I made out. I slowly and cautiously pulled my arms out of the straightjacket sleeve, one at a time. This only took me as long as it did to wheel me to the elevator. Really! If these assholes wanted to become kidnappers, they really should at least try to get it right!

As the empty elevator opened, I slipped out of the straightjacket, and kicked out of the wheelchair, all in one smooth, sudden move. The kick propelled me into the elevator and the chair back at Nursie and the orderlies, sending them sprawling. I reached up to the 'Close' button and pushed it. As normal with hospital elevators, it took a while for the command to take effect. I had to punch the nurse to keep her from grabbing the sides of the doors to keep it open. Finally, it closed, and with a finger on the 'Close' button, I hit the button for the highest floor.

Once I was five stories up, I hit all the buttons going up, lit out of the elevator on the next floor, and ran down two flights to the Geriatric Ward. Once there, I ducked into a private room. The room reeked with the smell of old people. The two patients were on some kind of life support equipment, and barely noticed that anyone was there. I carefully picked up the phone that was obviously for the use of what visitors they got, and took it into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, I forced my drug-numbed mind to remember. I punched in the number for Seraphim Protective Services, and the extension for Violet, the dispatcher. Once I had Vi on the line, she quickly patched me over to Ben Abrams' line.

"Ben! Ben, this is Greg. Have you gotten in touch with Doc Birk yet?"

"Yeah, and he's on his way, don't worry about it."

"Don't worry? Ben, they tried to get me to sign some bogus release form. When I refused, they drugged me and tried to take me to the fucking Pound!"

"The Pound? But they can't commit you to the Pound without your doctor's written approval or proof that you're a danger to others!"

"Tell that to them. Let's face it, once they have me processed over there, they can do damn near anything they want to me and get away with it."

"How did you get to a phone?"

"Long story of rousing adventure. I'll tell it to you over a beer sometime. In the meantime, haul your asses over here! Oh yeah, and call Doc Birk and tell him to get the lead out, and get 'Whiplash' Wilson here too! By now, these assholes have probably phonied up a story about me going berserk."

"Yeah, and how do I know that it isn't for real, Greg?"

"Because, no matter what they say that I did, they're gonna insist that I _not_ be killed. They want me alive, for whatever it is that they want me for."

"Y'mean, you don't know?"

"_No_."

"Haven't you looked in a mirror?"

"Well, I know that I'm female now, but since when is that a reason to put a person in a mason jar?"

"Go find a mirror, NOW."

"Hold on." I turned the light on and looked in the bathroom mirror. My face was definitely female and very cute in a kittenish way. I had a head full of bushy white hair, large, almond shaped amber eyes over high cheekbones, a small nose and a small mouth. But my eyes had long, catlike slits instead of pupils. The points of catlike ears pointed through my hair. When I opened my mouth, my canines were long, sharp fangs. But the real problem was that I looked like I was fourteen or fifteen years old. Jesus Christ, I didn't just turn into a girl, I turned into a little girl! I fucking Rejuvenated! No wonder that peck-sniffing doctor was so hot to get his hands on my medical records! They're worth a fucking fortune! No one has ever rejuvenated before, not even 'magically'. "Ben? I'm back. Get here. Now. Bring Guns. They're gonna tear this hospital apart looking for me! Oh yea, and call Liz Shinmakage over at Matthews. Yeah, I know it's going out of house, but she's the only Were that I know with any credibility, and I'm gonna need all that I can get."

"Where are you, Greg?"

"I don't wanna say just now - I might have to move unexpectedly. I'll meet you..." I labored to get my brain to work through the drugs, "...at the emergency ambulance loading area in...twenty minutes. Can you get here in that much time?"

"Yeah, if we use the lights and the siren."

"Hell, you love doing that anyway. Twenty minutes, emergency ambulance loading area, right?"

"Right."

"Get here, guys - my ass is hanging out a mile here!"

There are no locks on the bathrooms in hospitals, so I couldn't risk hiding there. Walking around in a hospital gown was dangerous - not to mention embarrassing. They were expecting me to be creeping around the back stairs and maybe in the elevator shafts or some other nook or cranny. The last place that they would expect me to go would be...the Doctor's Lounge! Well, there was no way that I could pass for a doctor - but maybe a Candystriper? Using the phone, I asked Information where the Candystripers' locker room was. I used a brush and comb to get my hair to where it didn't look quite so out of control, and hid my ears with an improvised hairband. With a robe and a pair of slippers, I looked like a bored patient from the Youth Ward, out for a stroll.

Carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone, I made my way to another area of the Hospital on the same floor and took the elevator to the floor with the Candystripers' locker room. I sort of drifted there and helped myself to a change of clothes and shoes, a pair of latex gloves to cover my claws, a personal stereo and a pair of sunglasses. As I bopped down the hallways in the general direction of the emergency ambulance loading area, I didn't look like the most reliable Candystriper on the staff, but I didn't look like a dangerous fugitive, either.

Indeed, there was an alert out. A security guard told me that a 'dangerous werewolf' was loose in the hospital, and to go somewhere safe until they tracked it down. I gasped, stammered a thanks to the concerned guard, and scampered to the ambulance loading area. Doctor Lender's story required that everyone think that I was some kind of snarling beast. And, honestly, the average person would be so freaked out about becoming a Were and having the whole hospital in an uproar looking for them, that's just what they'd probably act like. So, I played it cool, found a beverage cart by the cafeteria and wheeled it around. I even sold a couple of sodas and sandwiches!

Then I heard Ray Castellano's voice shouting something. I followed the sounds of Ray's bellowing to a nurse's station. The entire team was there, thank God, and best of all, Doc Birk. Ray was having a yelling match with 'Nurse Ratchett'.

'Nursie' was loudly proclaiming that 'Miss Scott' had already been released, and Ray wasn't having any of it.

I relaxed, and parts of me that I hadn't been aware of started to unwind. I was free and clear now. Feeling a tad pixyish after all that pressure, I walked up to Ben Abrams on his blind side and asked, "Would you like to buy a sandwich, or a magazine to read? Maybe a soft drink?"

"Please, Sweetie, can't you see that we have an emergenc- _GREG!_"

I grinned as Doc Birk's jaw dropped to the floor and the rest boggled.

'Nurse Ratchett' decided that offense was always preferable to defense. "THAT is a dangerous monster, who belongs in a cage! The papers have been signed committing that to the Lycanthrope Ward at the State Asylum for the Criminally Insane! If you prevent us from removing that threat from this hospital then you are criminally liable-"

"SHUT UP!" Doc Biryukov bellowed. He hated being stampeded. "Listen up, _Nurse_, the decision whether or not a person afflicted with Lycanthropy is a danger is a matter for their attending _Doctor_. Any papers committing this young lady will have to be signed by ME! I haven't had a chance to even speak with my patient, let alone examine hi-...her. Now, who's the wiseass who jumped on _my_ patient, hmmm?"

"Some dick named Lender," I offered.

"Lender? Don Lender? Why would Don Lender jump on you like that?"

As if being summoned, a tall, hefty, grandfatherly looking man in a lab coat walked up, wanting to know what the ruckus was about. Doc Birk recognized him immediately. "Don! What's this about you trying to snatch my patient out from under me?"

"Ah, Doc? Is that Doctor Lender?"

"Yeah!"

"Does he have a son who works here?"

Doctor Lender shook his head in confusion.

"That's not the man who tried to buffalo me. He was wearing a name tag with 'Doctor Lender' on it, but he never actually said that he was a doctor." On Doctor Lender's prompting, I described the man.

Lender muted a snarl. "Sounds like that pipsqueak Weston. He's a Hospital Administrator, and as cold blooded a bastard as ever shoved a frostbite patient back out into a blizzard for lack of financial wherewithal." Lender glared at 'Nurse Ratchett'. "You. Go get your buddy Weston, and wait for me in my office. If you're not there when I get back, you're both Fired! Is that understood?"

'Nurse Ratchett' was almost hyperventilating. "That THING is a threat to everyone around it! Are you just going to let that animal walk around free? Don't you give ME that crap about them being people! They're not people! They're animals, every one of them!"

From behind us came a silky voice. "Y'know, you really should rephrase that." Turning around, I saw Liz Shinmakage standing there. Liz is a fox, in more ways than one. She had her long fox ears poking out of her supernaturally red hair, her eyes were a weird inhuman dark green, the hands set aggressively on her hips had long, gleaming claws on them, and she had her lips parted in a non-smile, baring teeth with overlong canines. She was awesome, she was beautiful and she looked like she could tear Nursie apart without even trying.

And even more importantly, standing next to her was Avery 'Whiplash' Wilson, the man with the black belt in litigation. From there on, let's just say that it was ugly. 'Whiplash' loves to sue hospitals. Nothing makes him happier than repossessing some doctor's Beemer.

Doc Birk is, among other things, the top dog in the region in the field of possession and the ways that devils can affect the human body. He doesn't really know that much, but then, neither does anybody else. But he could tell whether someone was driving their own body, or if it was on remote control. He signed off on me, stating that I wasn't a threat to myself or others. On his insistance, he also gave me a full physical.

As I said, my body looked like it belonged to a reasonably fit fourteen- or fifteen-year-old girl, maybe a little on the coltish side. I looked as if my body had just caught onto the fact that I would eventually grow up into a woman. My hips were just beginning to widen, and there was more of a suggestion of development on my chest than anything real. Oh, well, I've waited this long, I can wait a couple of years for my first real trip to Victoria's Secret.

Doc Birk finished. "Well, Greg, your signs are off, but that's to be expected in a Lycanthrope. Your blood pressure is a little high, but again, that's to be expected. There is a definite link between you and the Hellcat that 'bit' you, but I don't detect any undue influence. You don't show any signs of having an anathema, and the physical indications - aside from looking like an adolescent girl - aren't anything that I haven't seen on lycanthropes before."

"Thanks. Speaking of 'physical indications', is there anything that I can do about these eyes or these claws?"

"Ask Liz - I'm a doctor and a metaphysicist, not a Chi master. Still, I think that it would be a good idea if you spent about a week or so resting and recuperating under supervised care."

"I understand, Doc. But I think you'll sympathize when I say that the sooner that I get out of this hospital, the better I'll like it."

"Okay, but take it easy for a while."

"Not a problem. It'll take 'Whiplash' at least a week to arrange a new set of ID for me, and convince my bank and credit card company that I have a legal right to my own money."

"Greg, you do understand that this isn't over, not by a long shot."

"Not to worry, Doc! I have an angle on how I'm gonna convince Deverel to let me use the team to catch that Hellcat!"

"That's not what I'm talking about. You rejuvenated, Greg. Like it or not, you just landed a second career as a lab rat. Researchers are going to go nuts when they hear about this. They're going to want to put you in a cage, and hit you with every experiment there is, up to and including vivisection."

"I have an angle on that, too."

"Maybe, sweetie-"

"Sweetie?"

"Get used to it, kid. Also, get used to being carded every fifteen minutes, and forget about smoking or drinking. But really, Greg, if there's even a chance of learning anything about how to reverse the aging process, the Pharmaceutical and Medical researchers would sell their own mothers to the Cossacks!"

"Doc, I know! Like I said, I've got an angle."

"It had better be a doozy - while I think most of the guys at Seraphim will back you up, Deverel would sell you to one of the R&D firms in a second!"

"Just make an appointment with your buddy, Doctor Lender. I think I have a way of arranging it so that everyone gets what they want."

CHAPTER THREE: Girl Talk

The next day, Liz Shinmakage visited me at home. I met her at the door wearing one of my old plaid flannel shirts, and not much else. "Hi, Liz! Sorry about how I'm dressed, but while I hate to say it - I really don't have a thing to wear! I'm holding up my boxers with a safety pin!"

"So I figured. I picked up something basic for you to wear. Get dressed, so that we can go out and get you something that actually fits."

"That's gonna be a problem. 'Whiplash' is gonna take a while before he can expedite any ID for me, so I doubt that I can get any money out of the bank. And I doubt it if anyone's gonna take my credit card, with me looking like this."

"Not to worry. I'll cover your expenses, and you can pay me back out of that big glob of money that you're gonna shake the hospital down for. Oh! I see that you've already had visitors!" She stifled a snicker. My coffee table was piled high with 'Get Well' gifts - a Raggedy Ann doll, a catnip mouse, balls of yarn, an all-day sucker, a scratching post, and of course, lots of 'Hello Kitty' crap. Heck, somebody even contrived a 'Devil-hunter Barbie'! Devil-hunters have pretty much the same slightly sick sense of humor that Cops and Firefighters have. Figures, most of us were either Cops or Firedogs before the Parasyphilant hit, or were the kind that kept applying and couldn't get into the Academy.

"Thanks, Liz. It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't either think that this is a horrible tragedy or as a really sick joke!" I popped one particularly objectionable foil balloon with a claw.

The clothes that Liz brought were a rather baggy white long sleeved jersey, a blue denim jumper and a pair of pink sneakers that were a size too large. Oh, and underwear, of course. When I got it all on, I went back out and asked, "So, how do I look?"

Liz smirked and said, "You look like something out of an anime. Y'know, the 'cute little cat-girl' bit?"

I unconciously twitched my ears in irritation. "Okay, you're so smart, how do you hide all these tell-tales? I'm not exactly looking forward to having them call 6-1-1 [the supernatural emergency hotline] every time I go into a store!"

"I was wondering when we were going to get around to that. Lessee now - eyes, ears, fangs, claws... Could be worse. Nothing weird about the nose, no whiskers... Do you have a tail?"

"NO!"

"Don't get snippy with ME, little Missy! It's a valid question! Now, first I want you to go to a first level state of meditation-"

Ironically, the procedure that Liz used was first to push the physical manifestation to its utmost. I had a mouth full of fangs, my hands had long talons on them, my ears were about half again the size of my head, and my eyes were grotesquely large. Once I had that down, she had me sort of 'pull it all back'. When I was done, my nails were a little pointed, my eyes were still that slightly creepy amber, my ears were pointed like Mr. Spock but easily hidden, and my teeth just had slightly prominent canines. Nothing to get excited and call the cops about.

I took a look in the mirror. Not what I'd been dreaming of for years, but damn cute, and I'd probably grow up to look absolutely stunning.

I turned to Liz. "Hunh. The colors are back to normal."

"That's right - my vision isn't effected that much when I manifest my lycanthropy, but my hearing and smell go through the roof. But while those cat's eyes of yours should see very well in low light, cats are color blind, aren't they?"

"So I've heard. Actually, I'm not color blind, the colors are just off."

"How about your sense of smell and hearing?"

"Well, when I think about it, my sense of smell is really good, but my hearing is kind of like - I can hear more and I can pick up things further away, but the fine detail gets lost."

"Hey, as long as you can hear them calling you for dinner!"

"Right! Well, it's Time To Go Shopping!"

"Hmmm, yes, but first, Kitty-"

"Don't CALL Me That!"

"Well, what ARE we going to call you? We can't very well keep calling you 'Greg', now can we?"

"I've told 'Whiplash' to have 'Grace' put on all my new ID."

"Okay - Grace - how long have you been a transsexual?"

<sputter!> "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I wasn't sure, but now I'm positive! Greg, you didn't do this on purpose, did you?"

"NO, I did NOT. Okay, I did have a theory that does seem to have worked out, but that's only because every time that I went out and the bogey matched certain traits that I was looking for, I took certain precautions. I did NOT rig that hunt. I know better. I've been in the same situation at least twenty times, and I did it by the book every time. Just like I did this time. Only this time, the spook got past my defenses. If anything, my precautions probably saved not only my life, but the rest of my team's."

"Methinks the squirt doth protest too much."

"Hey, I thought this out! I took every precaution that I could think of!"

"And you still wound up getting fried."

"That's the risk we take! Me, you, every Devil-hunter working."

"Hey, don't get your panties in a bunch! They're new! The point is, you took a really stupid gamble. That fact that you managed to pull it off - more or less - doesn't change the fact that you de facto cut a deal with a devil!"

"I didn't cut a deal with it! I tricked it!"

"That's what every Faust thinks. Why didn't you just go through Sex Reassignment Surgery, if you were that intent on it?"

I gave a martyred sigh. I have yet to meet a non-transgendered person who got the point. Even shrinks were just guessing. "Remember what I looked like before? I was Six- One, two hundred pounds, and hairy as hell. I could'a done the hormone therapy for years and spent a fortune on plastic surgery, and I'd still have looked like a sideshow freak."

"So, now you're another kind of freak. Was looking good that important to you?"

"Truly spoken like someone who could have run for Miss Asian USA. Don't try to deny it - I remember what you looked like before you got Were'd!"

"Yeah, and I know that being good looking isn't that important."

"Maybe. But looking good isn't the point. Being accepted as a woman is. Liz, being a transsexual is like being a weird kind of Rorschach blot - you never know how someone is going to react when you tell them. And...there's the whole fertility thing."

"You mean you want to have a baby?"

"Not right now, but I'd like to have the option! C'mon, Shinmakage, don't tell me that you haven't thought about having a kid!"

"It's different for you! You're a guy!"

"Not anymore."

"So, you'd sell your soul to be a woman?"

"No, and I didn't! Liz, let me put it like this - being a transsexual is like having a pair of tight shoes that pinch your toes and hurt your arches, all over your soul! Your entire life doesn't fit! Everything you do feels wrong! And the harder you work to make it right by doing all the 'Guy' stuff, the worse you make it! I just wanna be human! I just want to live..." I slumped onto the couch. "By the way, how did you read me?"

"You were handling it too well. So, I figured that you were either a 'T', or you were compensating really hard. I figured that calling you on the 'T' was the best way to get you out of denial if you were compensating."

"Well, aren't we clever?"

Liz looked down at me and gave an exasperated sigh. "So, are you at least going to tell your team?"

"Why? They're going to think that I'm a big enough weirdo as it is! Just now, you damn near freaked out when you figured it out."

"I did not!"

"You should have seen yourself from my side of the table - there you were, Miss Justice with her bright shining sword, bringing the pervert to heel!"

"It wasn't like that! I was just - well, I don't like being lied to!"

"You don't like being lied to? Try having to live a lie! At first, you go along with the lie because you're just a kid, and you think that this is how it's supposed to be. Then, when you're a little older, you figure out what's going on. But by then, you've been taught that being a 'queer' or a 'sissyboy' is a horrible thing. Being feminine is a horrible thing. Not being a 'real man' is a horrible thing. And when you've finally worked up the courage to tell people the truth, it's 'You lied to me!' Or, 'How could you?' Or some other piece of bullshit that only works to make you the badguy. How DARE I not be what everyone else tells me to be?"

She sat down on the couch and looked at me. I pulled out my phone and started punching in numbers. "Who are you calling?"

"Pizza Delight. Since you are obviously going back on your promise, I'm gonna be stuck here for a while. I might as well call out for some pizza, 'cause I can't go out dressed only in an old shirt."

"Who said that I'm going back on my word?"

I arched an eyebrow at her.

"Hey, I just want to know who I'm really dealing with! Greg...Grace, it's like finding out that someone you thought you knew was somebody completely different all along!"

"Liz, nobody really knows anybody else. Hell, most people don't even know themselves." I started punching in numbers again.

Liz took the phone from my hand. "I'm not going back on my promise. I just think that you should be honest with your team-mates. If nothing else, you owe it to them so that they won't feel that they have to do things to make it all better." She raised an eyebrow. "Or is that the entire point? Maybe you want to be coddled a little? Have them fuss over you, perhaps?"

"Okay, okay, I'll tell them - after we bag the Hellcat."

"Why after?"

"Because, right now, bagging that spook is my Number One priority, and a good dose of guilt can't help but motivate them. Once that's out of the way, we can clear the table and settle things."

Liz shrugged. She'd done her duty as she saw it. "Okay, first things first - we've gotta get you to a hair salon! That mop of yours is a disgrace! After that, we go shopping!"

I gave out a little squeal of delight. Hey, gimme a break, I've wanted to do this since I was Eight!

Liz was right, my hair was a mess. I couldn't believe the improvement in the way that I looked after a cut, wash, rinse and set. Liz bought me enough clothes to get me through the week, until Whiplash got my ID and finances straightened out. She got me a few pairs of girls' jeans for the office, to keep the guys from freaking out too badly, and a few more girly outfits for when I was on my own dime. Of course, there were a few compromises that had to be made - I desperately craved one of those cute 'teddybear' backpacks, but there was no way that I could reconcile buying one with the 'tragic victim of a curse' image that I was trying to sell Deverel, the head honcho at Seraphim.

CHAPTER FOUR: You deal with your devils, I'll deal with mine .

When my Doc Birk mandated week of recouperation was over, I visited Seraphim Protective Services. Deverel claims that he chose the location because it was close to three on-ramps and two major traffic arteries. Personally, I think that he just chose the place 'cause it's cheap, because no one wants to set up shop near that much traffic noise.

I spent the time waiting for Deverel to stop playing 'I'm the Boss' games, enduring what passes for humor around here. I was just about to claw the last idiot who wanted to 'scratch me behind my ears', when April, Deverel's secretary told me that the Boss was ready to see me.

Calling Rodney Deverel a weasel is an insult to Mustelidae everywhere. He's a lodge brother to that vicious little Hospital Administrator who tried to railroad me into the Pound. Believe me, if he didn't have the best benefits package in the business, I'd go to work for the competition in a flash. Fortunately, while his greed can be a major pain in the ass, it's also an obvious handle on him - if you know how to use it.

I walked in, sat down and smiled at him, in what I hoped was a winning way. "So, you want?"

He shoved a clipboard at me. There were enough forms to choke a hippopotamus on it. "Sign these."

I looked at it. "It's become my policy never to sign anything until after I have Whiplash take a good long look at it."

"Wilson works for Seraphim."

"Then I ain't even looking at these!" I tossed the clipboard into the circular file.

"You _will_ sign them. Your medical records are Seraphim Protective Services property. They are a record of a condition that you incurred as an employee; so, under the Intellectual Properties laws, they belong to us."

"Have you discovered Humor? That 'if you did it while you were working for us, then it's ours' bullshit only applies if you signed a Work for Hire contract. Which, I happen to know, is not a part of the Stardard SPS employment contract."

"Fine, then we'll just sue you for ownership."

"Fine by me! Whiplash could use the hours, and it doesn't matter to him whether you win or lose. No court in the country will uphold your claim, and the publicity from the lawsuit will send the bidding for lease-rights through the roof."

"Do you really think that the courts would take the side of a child over that of a respected businessman?"

"You mean there's somebody who actually respects you, Roddie? Besides your mother, that is? Rodney, the entire point of the value of my medical records is that I rejuvenated. It doesn't make sense to claim that I'm a child, if none of it matters if I'm not really an adult."

"Oh? And what about proper custody of the rights, seeing that you're a lycanthrope?"

"Doc Birk already signed off on me. First thing that I took care of. As per the Calmet v. Westmoreland decision, a lycanthrope who poses no threat to others or themselves enjoys the uncompromised franchise of the citizen and the full protection of the Law. You don't have a leg to stand on, and everybody knows it."

"If you don't sign, you're fired! Then I'll slap you with one lawsuit after another, until the only thing of value that you'll have is your medical records rights!"

"Go ahead! Fire me! First I'll go over to Matthews', and get a job with them. Since Whiplash does work for them as well, you won't be able to use him, because of a conflict of interest on his part. Then I'll countersue you for Unwarranted Termination, Fraud, Extortion, attempted infringement of my Constitutional rights, and anything else that a hungry lawyer can think of! And since I have a plan to get the R&D companies in my pocket, I'll have their legal resources behind me. AND if I leave, I'll not only take Begley, Thurston, Abrams and Castellano with me, but seven juicy contracts as well."

"Now I know that you're bluffing. You can't take any contracts with you!"

"I can if they haven't signed yet, and I'm the only one who can do the job."

"What ARE you talking about?"

"Those seven kids that the Hellcat almost used as incubators. It had possessed them, it has a solid connection with all seven of them. It's loose and it's hungry. Fifty will get you Two-Fifty that at least three of them, if not all of them, have been having strange dreams. Their parents are probably freaked, with good reason. They all have connections with the spook, but as it cursed me, my connection with it is far stronger. And, since I have disciplines that none of those kids have had the time to develop, I'm the perfect person to handle the bogey."

"AND it will just happen to get that Hellcat out of your hair once and for all, without you paying for the services of four very expensive Goblin-hunters, not to mention the rental on all the equipment that you'll need to pull this off."

"Wow. Is that serendipity, or what? Okay, so I don't get Hazard Pay for this job."

"No pay, you forfeit your commission on the sale of the devil's monads, and Seraphim gets a cut of anything that comes from the medical records."

"Half pay, no commission, and if you think that you're getting a single penny from those records, you're delusional."

"Half pay, no commission, and-"

"That's it, I'm gone! Send my severance pay to me, care of Matthews'."

He finally settled on full pay, no commission, and a percentage of any royalties to come from any medical procedure that was developed using the tests that I underwent. Sucker. *****

Speaking of such things, I managed to get the R&D companies off my back by cutting a deal with the hospital. Doc Birk arranged a meeting with the real Doctor Lender, and we agreed that I would make myself available for reasonable tests (it being agreed that Vivisection was NOT reasonable), once a week for six hours. I would be paid for the tests, and the various R&D firms would pay the hospital for access to the results of those tests. The R&D people could suggest tests and supply scientists to carry them out. BUT, I could nix any test that I regarded as too painful, or lengthy, or if I just didn't like the lab rat's attitude. Oh, and it was understood that if 'Nurse Ratchett' ever so much as looked crosseyed at me, I'd claw them out. Actually, I've come to look forward to my lab dates - most of them are very relaxing, compared to my regular line of work. Not that I think that any of it will ever really do any good. I genuinely think that my rejuvenation was such a fluke that no test will ever figure out how it happened. But hey, _I'M_ getting paid! *****

Deverel was useful, in his own sleazy way. He managed to talk the parents of the seven kids who'd been grabbed into coming down to the office for a talk. We figured that talking to them all at the same time would be more effective, because having the other parents in the room would drive home the point that their kids were in BIG trouble. Besides, it would save time, and we wouldn't have to do it over and over.

The parents were a pretty average bunch of upper-working class to middle management types. Four of them spent the time waiting for the others to show up working on-line, and three were on the phone. When the last guy showed up, a stereotypical stressed out low level executive type, Deverel started his spiel.

After Deverel explained the basic situation, one of the mothers asked the obvious question, "Well? Why aren't you out there looking for it? Don't you have a legal duty or something to catch that thing, especially since you let it get away?"

"No, Mrs. Cordell, we don't. Our brief at the Mall was to rescue the kids - which we did - and to clear the Mall of any leftover spooks - which we did. The Hellcat not only escaped us, it also escaped the local police. We fulfilled our brief. If anything, we lost out a bit on that case, because we not only couldn't sell off the Hellcat's component parts, but one of our Devil-hunters was almost critically injured in the process. But, we can't go out searching for the Hellcat, the Law won't allow it. It's sort of the same as a Private Investigator looking into things. If the PI has a client, then he's just doing his job; but if he doesn't have a client, then he's intruding on other people's privacy or interfering with police business or things like that. Given the danger to others when we go out on a Hunt, we have to have a client, in whose best interests we're working."

One of the fathers asked the next obvious question about costs, and Deverel took them down the country lane to where we wanted them to go. They would share the costs of hiring SPS, and have their kids available to help us bag the Hellcat.

Then the next obvious question came, from the Executive type. "And why should we go to your company to handle this, seeing as how you bungled it before?"

"First, because we HAVE dealt with this creature before. We know what it is, we know how it works, we know its smell. But, most of all, we have an Ace in the Hole. As I told you before, one of our Devil-hunters was near critically injured. But, in a fluke accident, he was cursed, and as part of that curse, he both gained an amazing regenerative ability and a powerful link to the Hellcat. Scott, will you come in here and explain our plan?"

I straightened my jumpsuit and walked into the room. One of the men sputtered and yelled, "Deverel, is this some kind of sick joke?"

I cut him off. "If it is, then the joke is on me, not you. My name is Grace Scott. Twelve days ago, my name was Greg Scott. I am a Devil-hunter with over three years of experience. Despite appearances, I am forty-two years old. Some of you may remember that one of the Hunters who rescued your children was almost turned into a skeleton by the Hellcat. I'm that Hunter. My current form is the manifestation of the curse that the Hellcat put on me. But that was a mistake on it's part - I now have a mystic link to the demon. I can tell that it's still out there, somewhere. It's hungry and it's still in the greater metropolitan area."

"So, why don't you go out and get the damn thing, if you're so hot?"

"Because, if we go looking for it, it will just run away. We have to get it to come to us."

One of the mothers broke in. "But I thought that goblins were mindless. How would it know that you're looking for it?"

I sighed. This is the part that I hate about working with civilians. "Okay, it looks like I'm going to have to give you a little remedial metaphysics. Yes, ma'am, Goblins are mindless. They are self-perpetuating packets of energy, but they're packets of psychic energy that interact with geo-magnetic lines of force. Since they're made up of Psychic energy, they also interact with mental energies. They can't read minds, per se, but they can react to intentions, which is why they appear to be so damn cunning. They don't know that what they're doing is the last thing that you expect - they are like floods of water, battering away at a dam until it finds a weak spot to break through. The flood doesn't know that one area is structurally unsound, or that brick is made of inferior materials - it just pounds until something gives. Goblins just react until they do something works, and then they chow down. So, if we go looking for it, it will simply retreat along the line of least resistance. So, we need to set a bait for it, something that it will be drawn to. We will create a trap for it, with a single controllable means of access. When it comes, I will be there, and I will rip it apart."

"Why you? Why not one of the other Devil-hunters that you have on staff?"

"Because since it cursed me, it can't feed on me anymore. You see, cursing someone is a way that Goblins have of feeding. The cursed person is compelled to do things that will feed the Goblin by remote control. It 'thinks' that I am part of its feeding aparatus, not part of the trap. Anyone else would just scare the damned thing off."

"Okay, if you're the bait, what do you want with us?"

"Well first, as Mister Deverel pointed out, we need clients; we can't do this for our own sake. Also, Mister Deverel won't use his people without getting paid. And I can't afford to pay for it myself. Since your children are at risk, you will benefit from the Hellcat being captured; therefore you are the logical people to foot the bill."

There was a completely understandible row about that. Nobody likes getting stuck with a bill that way.

"PLEASE! People! If we don't do something soon, that Goblin will find a weak spot in your houses' defenses, and your children will Die! It's hungry and desperate, and it's going to act soon! Someboy has to foot the bill, and you are the logical candidates. Split seven ways, the burden shouldn't be that great." I paused for dramatic effect and smiled evilly. "OR, you can go home, and tell your kids that they are probably going to die, because you're too cheap to do the most effective thing."

The executive gave me a gimlet eye. "I suppose that you're going to get double your usual fee, because you're going to act as bait."

"Acutally, I'm not the bait. I'm the hook. Your daughters are going to be the bait."

There was another outburst of outrage. I gave Deverel a withering look for letting me catch all this flack. "It's necessary! Let me explain the physics of it - as I've told you, Goblins are packets of self-perpetuating energy. Like energy, or water, or air or anything else that flows, Goblins move along the path of least resistance from a place of high pressure to a place of low pressure. Male or Yang energy is high pressure, while Female or Yin energy is low pressure. What we are going to do is get all of your daughters in one isolated place with a single means of access for the Goblin. But the boys won't just be sitting around doing nothing. No, we will be moving your sons around the area. Their attunement to the Hellcat will give our scryers a better fix on its location. Once we have a rough idea of where it is, we'll move them so that their Yang will prod the Hellcat toward the collected Yin provided by the girls. We will herd the damn thing into our trap, before it can develop another means of feeding. Even if it feeds on someone else, it will inevitably get around to getting to your children."

One of the fathers raised a hand. "Just a minute - if you're there, waiting for it when it comes to get the girls, won't it sense you? Won't it sense you, and know that you're going to try to do it dirty?"

"Ah. Good point. You have been listening. Three things - One, it'll be forced to come into the trap by the imbalance of Yin and Yang. Two, we Devil-hunters are trained in a Zen technique so that we can think and act without our intentions 'broadcasting'; it's a necessary technique to catch Goblins. Three, it cursed me - I'm part of it's hunting mechanism. So, my energy patterns have already been more or less synchronized with its. I won't repel it, because it will interpret my focus as part of the hunting method. If anything, by being there with the girls, I should focus the goblin's 'attention' on them more quickly."

That pretty much convinced the parents. The executive did a bit of haggling with Deverel over deducting the proceeds of the sale of the monads from the operating costs, but it was pretty much agreed that they'd go along with the plan. He didn't get it - those resale profits are what keep Seraphim really going.

CHAPTER FIVE: Pajama Party Armageddon

We had to wait a few weeks for the conditions to be just right and to find the right spot for the 'cage'. We managed to keep the Hellcat contained in our hunting area by moving all the girls out of the area, while keeping the boys at strategic points. This kept the Hellcat contained in an area that was surrounded by 'high pressure' areas. The problem was that this 'containment' area still had a twenty-mile radius. A rather well populated twenty-mile radius.

Our trap was set in a rather skanky abandoned gas station, the only attraction of which was the fact that it was conveniently set on a junction of two descending westward Negative flows that ran through the heart of the aforementioned twenty-mile radius. Believe me, cockroaches turned up their noses (or whatever) at this place.

We set up shop in what had been the station's convenience store, and draped over the windows. Even after the Dying there are things that are dangerous that have nothing to do with Goblins. Having four teenage girls all alone out the in back of beyond was just asking for it. I made sure that I had my 9mm close at hand at all times. We set up a few homey touches like a cot, a couple of chairs, detection pendulum stands, a CB radio and two devil containment units. Hey, after what happened at the mall, it's better safe than sorry.

One by one, the parents brought their daughters in and got them settled in. There was a lot of 'I'm not happy about this either, dear, but it has to be done', 'I wish that I could do it for you', and 'I love you, sweetie' noises made. They left their daughters looking like they were leaving them as sacrifices for the dragon. Which was all too close to the truth.

Once the old folks were gone, the girls turned and looked at me. "Hi, I'm Lacy. She's Violet and she's Kiana. Who are you? And where's this big-shot Devil-hunter that they said was gonna be protecting us?"

I nodded back at them. "My name's Grace, and I'm the 'big-shot Devil-hunter'."

Violet made a dismissive noise. "Yeah, right! Since when do they make little kids Devil-hunters?"

"Actually, I'm forty-two years old, and I have three years of Devil-hunting experience, and well as some Emergency Civilian Militia duty during the Haunting."

All three were making 'oh, give me a break' noises, so I went feline on them. They almost jumped out of their skins, and skittered over until they had their backs against the wall.

"Chill out! Or whatever it is that kids say these days. I'm a lycanthrope, but I have complete control of my actions." I pulled my claws and ears in. They were still huddled against the wall, looking like scared puppies. "Oh, please! If I'd wanted to hurt you, you'd already be shredded beef!"

I sat down and started strumming my fingers on the lunch cooler. "Listen up. Do you remember about a month ago, when that goblin jumped you? Do you remember hearing that something happened to one of the Devil-hunters that went in to save you?"

"Yeah... The kids at school said that one of the guys that went in was brought out on a stretcher, burned almost to a crisp."

"Not burned. The goblin cursed me, and that 'burn' was part and parcel of that curse."

"You?"

"Yep."

"But I heard that all the Hunters that went in were guys."

"Yep."

"Y'mean, you got turned into a Were, a girl AND a kid?"

"Yep."

"MAN, you got screwed!"

"I'm dealing with it."

I explained the basics of the plan to the girls. "Now, all that you really have to do is stay outside _this_ circle until the goblin shows up. Once you're in the circle, the goblin shouldn't be able to get at you."

"So, why don't we get in it right now?"

"You're bait that will lure the goblin here. It has to be able to follow the link that binds you all together. Only when it is right here, in this garage, should you get in that circle. Once it's here, it shouldn't be able to leave. Even if it manages to get past me, my team is ready. Once I give the signal, they'll come in like gangbusters and jump the damn thing."

"But can't it do something to draw us out? In Metaphysics class, they told us that goblins could play all kinds of tricks with your mind. They can make you think that they're your best friends and stuff, or they can hijack your mind, can't they?"

They must not have gotten very good grades in Metaphysics. "Oh, Some goblins can do some of those things, but not all. You see, a goblin's powers are extensions of its basic nature-"

"Basic nature?"

"Its method of hunting. You know how some animals are grazers and some are predators? Well an animal's body reflects how it feeds - a herbivore has no need for fangs, and a predator doesn't need horns or armor, and so on. Goblins are kind of like that. Their 'magical' powers reflect how they go out and get their 'food'. There are Sirens, Chasers, Pouncers, Stalkers and Corrupters. The goblin we're dealing with is a Hellcat. Hellcats are mainly Pouncers, but they can operate as Stalkers. Pouncers plant themselves in a strategic spot and wait for their prey to come into reach. Stalkers leave out a 'bait' - classically a 'cursed object' like a jewel something that people covet - and follow their prey until the situation is right. Right now, we've forced the Hellcat into the role of being a Stalker."

"So what? Can't a Stalker mess with your mind?"

"Not really. You see, the mechanism that allows a goblin to Tempt or Impersonate isn't part of either the Pouncer, Chaser or Stalker dynamics. Sirens and Corrupters do that sort of thing."

So far, Lacy had been doing all the talking. Now Kiana was getting into the act. "But in school, they said that goblins are supposed to be mindless! How can something that's mindless know what things you want to see?"

"They are mindless. They don't act; they just react, if only to their own hunger. You see, when a Siren or Corrupter tempts you, it doesn't know that you really want a diamond ring or a wallet full of cash. What it does is it sends a telempathic probe into your mind and sort of 'feels around'. When that probe finds an image that has the right 'taste' that the goblin is looking for-"

"Taste?"

"When they're doing this, goblins want a specific kind of reaction. If that kind of image has gotten the reaction that the goblin wants, then that image has a kind of resonance. We call that 'taste'."

"But you said 'the reaction the goblin wants' - if it's mindless, then how can it 'want' anything?"

"Okay, we're getting pretty deep here. Basically, goblins are imbalanced charges of psycho-reactive energy that are looking to balance themselves. They balance themselves by feeding on human energy. When their imbalanced, they flow along the path of least resistance until they are balanced, kind of like electricity flowing along a wire. And, like an electric charge, it's most attracted to an opposing charge on the same frequency and wavelength. Goblins don't 'want' to feed on us any more than a river wants to flow to the sea or a spark of electricity wants to jump the gap in a wire. A goblin trying to feed is kind of like a river battering away at a dam. It doesn't even know that the dam is there, it's just trying to find its own level. The pressure of seeking that level make the water seep into every crack in the dam, weakening it and wearing away at the dam until either the pressure forcing the water gives up, or the dam gives way."

Violet, who had been quiet up to now, snapped. "Man! This is worse than school! Can't we just get this over with?"

I sighed. "I wish it were that easy. Believe me, I am the one person in the world who wants that thing in a box more than you do!"

"Why? It isn't after you!"

"No, but my situation is a lot like yours - I got Were'd by that thing. And until that thing is broken up for scrap, there's a chance that it could catch me at a weak moment and override my will."

"How can it do that?"

<sigh> "You see, turning a person into a Were is another hunting technique. The goblin is connected to the Were by a link that's a lot like the one binding you to that Hellcat. The 'hunger' is transmitted to the Were. The Were responds by sprouting claws and fangs and other things, and killing someone. The Were eats some part of the victim-"

"Eeewwww!" The girls all said as one.

"Eating that part of the victim creates yet another link to the goblin, which the goblin uses to siphon off the victim's vital energy. Right now, I can feel the Hellcat's hunger. It's very hungry right now. And it wants you. I can resist that hunger. Resisting that kind of thing is part of a Devilhunter's training, and it's a new moon, so the 'Cat's influence is weak. But I won't really be free until that Hellcat has been broken up into its Monads-"

"Monads? What's a Monad?"

"'Monad' is Greek for 'unit'. Goblins and spirits aren't a single mass of energy. They're sort of like the organs of a body, each with a function. But with the right equipment-" I patted the bident at my side, "and the proper training, these Monads can be torn out of the goblin's 'body' and stored in battery-like storage units." I indicated the containment units. "Each of those has ten 'batteries' in it; one 'battery' for each Monad. When the Hellcat comes, I'm going to tear its Heart Monad out, and stuff it in one of those 'batteries'. And after that, I'm going to put the rest of it in the other 'batteries', one by one."

"Why do you have two of those things?"

"Just in case. The last time, the Hellcat knew to destroy the containment unit. This time, we have a spare."

I had to spend some more time filling in the girls' gaps in their understanding of metaphysics. It was a trifle annoying, but it _was_ a way of keeping their minds on the Hellcat without freaking them out. And having them think about the goblin was a sure way of encouraging the damn thing to come our way. I was going over how the Monads are used for various purposes when the first of the pendulums started to swing.

I immediately grabbed the CB and contacted the guys. "Okay, crew, we have a response - Pendulum A is giving me a 02 degree swing at 112 degrees on the plane." I checked our map. "Castellano, that's you."

Castellano radioed back, "Right, I'm moving my boy 100 meters, North by Northeast."

One by one, the pendulums began to swing, and each member of my crew drove one of the boys to a new area. As the boys' Yang nudged the goblin closer and closer, the pendulums changed the force and direction of their swings.

Then, abruptly, the pendulum swung slack, only the inertia that the swinging that they'd been doing before keeping them moving.

"Uhm, guys - complication. The pendulums have just stopped."

The general consensus was 'Say WHAT?'

"Ah, so...none of you guys have ever run into this before?"

"Not me."

"New one on me, Sweetie!"

"Sorry, Grace, but this is the first that _I"ve_ ever heard of it."

"Same here, Gracie."

Shit! I HATE it when these things pull something new out of a hat!

Then the pendulums started swinging again, but this time with a strange new rhythm. The pendulums were swinging in a pattern, with the pendulum to the right just a little behind the one to the left of it, in sort of a ripple sequence. "Hey, guys - new development. I got a Rippling Cascade sequence going down."

"But Grace - that only happens when a goblin focuses its energies in a corporeal form."

Thurston had a theory - "D'you think maybe it just created another Were?"

I waved my hand near one of the pendulums. "Nope. No ambiguity on Pendulum G. If our 'Cat had Were'd somebody else, there'd be a detectable conflict."

Lacy looked worried. "Does all of that mean that you've already caught the goblin?"

"No."

"Does it mean that we're in danger?"

"More than likely."

"Does that mean that it's time for us to get inside the circle?"

"Oh, definitely."

Lacy, Violet and Kiana quickly huddled into the circle. I threw a paperback novel in with them. "Here, you might as well take something to read. I don't know how close this thing, whatever it might be, is. It might take a while."

The Hellcat was projecting force through some kind of physical body. That could not be good. The 'Cat had managed to subsume itself in the copper of that mall's main power junction; it might have picked up the knack of animating electrical devices along the way. I checked my equipment. No explosives or anything else that could do serious damage. My most powerful weapon against a material target was a clip of armor-piercing rounds for my 9mm. I was loaded for bear, and tried to figure out if it was actually gonna be a bear that I'd have to deal with.

The pendulums swung with increasing power, the rhythm getting more and more strident. I wished that the damn thing would just jump me already and get it over with - the stupid dramatic build-up was driving me nuts!

Then there was a thumping sound at the back door. I looked at the girls and held a finger to my pursed lips in a 'shush' gesture. Even asking 'who's there?' might be taken as a invitation by whatever was out there.

The thumping sound continued. It wasn't a knocking. Something was trying to batter down the door. The power of the pounding slowly increased, until the door rang like a great bell. Then there was the sound of metal rending and buckling. There was a sound of something clattering through the back door. I ducked my head out of the office and shone the flashlight at the back door of the garage.

It was a fucking PTA lady!

You know, one of those large, fleshy women, who invariably dress in colors like purple or yellow, so that they'll 'stand out'. They're always terribly nice people who never really manage to wrap their heads around the fact that, NO, you don't want to hear about their interview with the district supervisor. Well, actually this one was dressed in lime green, and she'd been dead for about a couple of weeks or so.

Her flesh hadn't started to really rot or anything, but it looked like the rats had been at her. There were little bits that he been gnawed off of her face and the exposed parts of her arms. Her face was screwed up into a permanent silent yowl of horror, her last traumatic moments frozen in place and distorted by rigor mortis.

Now, the general notion that most people have, which they probably got from the movies and old videos, is that ghouls and zombies and other examples of the walking dead are slow and clumsy. But then, vampires always did get all the good press of the Undead. Actually, the Undead are all extentions of a goblin's animating force; they can move like greased lightning when they have the proper conditions. And, unfortunately, since I didn't think to bring any salt - because Hellcats aren't supposed to attune dead bodies to the animating frequency - it had just those conditions.

It came charging at me, in a way that was somehow both ludicrously awkward and extremely efficient. It - I refused to sabotage myself by calling this animated lump of dessicating flesh 'she' and making a person of it - was on top of me before I had a chance to get my 9mm up. It failed at me with flacid arms that delivered powerful smacks with the hamhock hands, like wrecking balls at the ends of cables. The blows sent me flying, which just goes to prove that these things really are mindless. Part of being a lycanthrope is that you can absorb a lot of damage, so the beating didn't really hurt that much, and the distance gave me a chance to get my gun up.

I put a couple of rounds into the ghoul, but it doesn't really matter if you shoot a dead body. I just put a couple of non-incapacitating holes in the damn thing. Quick as a wink, it was on me again, just the thing to bring out the beast in me.

The smell of dessicating flesh assaulted my suddenly heightened sense of smell. I manifested my claws and ripped into it as best as I could. But my claws kept getting stopped by the corpse's layer of fat.

Believe me, you do NOT know what disgusting is, until you've had to pick rotting lard from your claws.

It was like trying to fight a berserk rag doll. It kept me off balance, so that I couldn't connect with a place that wasn't either limp or covered with fat.

Okay, this isn't working, what will?

All right, the goblin may be able to bypass the rules of biology, but it can't ignore the laws of physics. Letting the ghoul whale away with its arms and gnaw at my shoulder, I hunched over and carefully pointed my gun at one of its kneecaps.

*Bam!* The round hit hard bone and obligingly shattered the knee and destroyed the leverage that the leg needed to keep the body up. And spreading still more of that lovely rotting flesh smell everywhere, piquantly accented by a trace of cordite.

The body slumped over my back, and I used the inertia to throw it, finally getting the damn thing off of me. As the ghoul flailed around trying to get up, I managed to kneecap the other leg. Somehow sensing that the legs were a complete loss, the ghoul started grabbing at me with its hands. I danced out of the way and gave a really cool cat-leap over it to get back to the office.

In the office, I ignored the semi-panicked questions of the girls in the circle, and the less panicked but still worried calls from the CB. I pulled out two of the 'thumping sticks' that I'd brought along. I threw one of the 'thumping sticks' to the girls. "There's a ghoul back there. I'll deal with it. If it manages to get in here, use the silver end of that to hold it off for as long as you can."

"How about that gun? That would be a LOT more helpful than this stupid stick!"

"Are you kidding? With that gun, you'd be more dangerous than the ghoul!"

I slid the leather 'grip' along the middle of the thumping stick down to the oak end of the stick. 'Thumping sticks' are designed so that in a pinch, they can be used as stakes. One end is oak, the other is ash, and they are joined in the middle with a diagonal cut. The leather grip keeps it together, but when it's moved to one end, you can break the stick in half, and have two stakes at hand. Just so, I broke the stick in half.

Then I had to remember - was it oak for ghouls and ash for vampires, or was it the other way around?

Right, Ash!

I barely had the stake in hand when the ghoul came crawling through the door. I made another vaulting leap over it and came at it from behind. It paused for a second, trying to decide which attractor to go after first. True to its nature, it kept going for the girls.

Now the thing about staking the Undead is that the stake disrupts the point where the animating force enters the corpse, and redirects that energy into the ground. The energy can't enter the corpse anymore, and it stops dead. The problem is that you have to find the exact point where the energy enters the body, which is usually in the rough vicinity of the heart. But it isn't always, and when you're staking through the back, you have to avoid the spine, which deflects the stake. I had to stake the stupid thing five times before I hit the 'heart'. The ghoul was only about four feet away from the circle and the three cowering girls.

The reek of rotten flesh was everywhere. I climbed off the corpse's back and staggered over to the CB, where I could hear Abrams barking out, "Grace! Grace! Dammit, Grace, what's going on?"

<Pfew!> "I'm here, guys. The goddam goblin somehow sent a fucking ghoul in to get us."

"A ghoul?" Begley asked, "But that's impossible! Hellcats don't animate the dead! It's not in their nature!"

Castellano had a theory. "No, Orrin, they don't attune dead bodies to the animating frequency. But, what if on its way over, it happened to roll over a ghoul body?"

Abrams wasn't having it. "No, Ray, then the devil that was animating the ghoul would conflict with the Hellcat. It wouldn't just let the 'Cat drag off one of its appendages."

"It would if it was in the jug! Suppose in the last week or so, some other team of Devil-hunters bagged the devil that was animating that ghoul, but didn't know about that particular body. The devil goes into the jug, and the ghoul falls down dead somewhere where no one finds it. That is, until the 'Cat, following the same paths that the devil did, flows over that ghoul-"

"And since a corporeal focus moves more quickly than a non-corporeal focus, the Hellcat's energies throw it at us," I finished for him.

But if even a single extention of the Hellcat has entered the garage, then... "_oh, shit._" I quickly grabbed my bident, and hurried to the door of the office. Working its way across the grease-stained floor was the felinoid form of the Hellcat. The grease must have been slowing it down, but it was still moving along the floor with the inexorability of a killing tide.

I have dealt with goblins before. I have dealt with goblins alone. I have even dealt with this goblin before. Still, battered and exhausted from my battle with the ghoul, the sight of that ectoplasmic Abbysinian coming down that garage almost unnerved me.

Gathering myself while there was still time, I hurried back to the CB. "Okay, guys - it's SHOWTIME! It's here! Drop off the boys and haul your asses here, Pronto! I'll handle it as best I can in the meantime!"

Okay, the cavalry's on its way. They should be there in five minutes. This is supposing, of course, that we survive that long. Five minutes is a hideously LONG time, when you are nose to nose with a devil.

Okay, get it together... The stupid goblin was probably using that ghoul's body as a forward point. Dragging the body back into the garage would probably be a waste of time and effort - it's breached the office anyway. But, I could use the focus point of the ghoul's body against the goblin anyway. I grabbed one of the devil containment units and wheeled it so that it was just behind the ghoul's body, in the line that the goblin would follow. Now, it would have to go through me to get to the ghoul's body, which it needed to reach in order to strike forward to the girls.

The containment unit in place, I got ready. Up to now, we'd been doing everything to try to get the Hellcat to come to where we could get our hands on it. Now that it had committed itself, the name of the game was 'Keep Away', until the guys got here. I pulled a new jade amulet, one that I'd never overlaid with a pattern that might let the Hellcat through in any way, and put it on squarely over my heart chakra. That goblin didn't have anything that I wanted, not now. I placed the jade lozenge under my tongue, and centered myself.

From inside the circle, Violet squeaked, "What's going on?"

"The goblin's here. Just stay inside the circle!"

"Oh god, oh god, oh god! Is there anything that we can do?"

"Yes! Whatever you do, don't think about polar bears!" Okay, it's an old gag, but it derailed them from thinking about the goblin. And them thinking about it and fearing it was only helping it. Which reminded me - I declined my were-form. My being there drew the 'Cat anyway, but being in my were-form only increased the draw.

I grabbed my bident and a handful of darts, and stationed myself in the goblin's path. All right, you walking unnatural craving, I'm as ready for you as I'll ever be!

I felt it just outside the door, and readied one of the darts. The darts that I was using were patterned after darts that Hindus and Buddhist exorcists had been using ritually in Asia for centuries. The darts don't harm devils, but they ground them slightly, briefly affixing them in one spot. The devil can work its way free, which takes time and keeps the damn things busy while we Devil-hunters are busy with other things. I targeted one spot on the carpet just inside the door, where the dart would stick, keeping the goblin even longer than a brief contact with concrete would.

The Hellcat came in the door. The second that it laid a 'paw' on the carpet, I let the dart fly and nailed it to the carpet. The 'Cat let out a 'yowl' of rage and started working its way free.

Again and again, I darted the Hellcat, slowing its progress through the small office to a molasses crawl. I needed to keep my concentration on the 'Cat at all times, so I couldn't look at my watch or grab the CB. Where the hell were the guys? They should have been here fucking hours ago!

I let my last dart fly and stuck the 'Cat a mere four feet away from me. My crew was nowhere in sight. It looked like I'd have to do this solo. Crap.

I set my bident and waited for the 'Cat's charge. I needed to get the Heart Monad on the first pass, or it would rip me apart. I'd set myself up in too much resistance to the goblin; there was no way that it couldn't just ignore me and chow down on the girls, even if I'd let that happen.

My entire world shrank down to the size of an orange, entirely focused on that part of the Hellcat's etheric body that I figured its Heart Monad would be. The tension between us grew, until neither of us could resist. We charged together as one. Ectoplasmic 'claws' ripped across my midsection, and would have disembowled me if I let myself believe it. But my bident went straight for the 'Cat's Heart and nailed it.

The 'Cat shrieked and whipped around in a fury, sending everything in the office that was loose flying. I grounded myself and put everything into tearing the Heart out. I pulled and pulled and finally, the lynchpin to the goblin's energies yanked free.

But a goblin isn't a normal corporeal living being. If anything, its fury grew without the Heart to keep it in balance. It was like moving through a thunderstorm, but I managed to traverse the yawning distance of an entire foot to the containment unit and put the first piece in storage.

Ignoring the pieces of litter pelting me in the PK storm raging in the small office, I targeted the 'Soul' Monad, which allowed the goblin to interface with energies outside its own matrix. With that in the jug, even if I lost, it couldn't feed on the girls or run away until the guys got here. I jabbed and missed, but got it on the next try.

Bit by bit, piece by piece, I tore away at the Hellcat as it tried to tear away at me. By the time I snagged the last Monad, its efforts were weak, reflex actions. And God bless that, 'cause I was bone-tired, cut and bleeding, and if the new teeth that my regeneration had grown for me had had any fillings, they'd probably have melted.

Breathing heavily, I touched the bident with the last devil-shard in it to the poles of the last containment unit cell, and sealed the damn thing away. Dropping the suddenly enormously heavy bident, I flipped the insulated lid on top of the unit and slammed the lock shut.

Safe.

I'm finally safe! The damn goblin is finally shut away! I'm finally safe! I started giggling semi-hysterically.

From their tight huddled group inside the circle, Lacy cautiously asked, "Grace? Are you all right? Is it over?"

Exhausted, I turned around, smiled at them and gave them as chipper a 'thumbs up' as I could manage. "Yeah, yeah it's fine. We're safe. I got it safely tucked away."

"Are you okay?" she asked again, cautiously moving out of the circle.

"Oh, I'm fine. Tired as hell, banged up something fierce, and cut up seven ways to Sunday, but it ain't nothin' that a good night's sleep and a side of beef won't cure." With that, I slumped down to the floor and concentrated on hurting.

Then I heard the sound of feet running outside and the door kicked open.

Not looking up, I said, "Hey, Guys! Now, ain't that just like a man! When you really need him, he's nowhere to be found. But the second that the fight's over..."

Then I heard Lacy, Kiana and Violet scream again. I looked up. At the door were five men in night gear with guns. Before I could react, the lead man pulled a taser gun and pointed it at me. I felt a sharp pain, then a searing jolt of pain, and then nothing at all.

CHAPTER SIX: "No, Mister Bond, I Expect You To DIE!"

When I woke up, it was dark, and I was strapped to a table. Oh wow, Deja Vu all over again!

No, it was different this time. I wasn't in a hospital bed, I could tell. I was on a wooden surface, with my arms strapped by the wrist over my head, and my legs strapped with my the ankles spread wide. And I was naked.

Oh God, they were gonna vivisect me! That bastard Deverel sold me out!

In a moment of panic, I grabbed at the straps around my wrists and yanked at them. Then I was knocked out of my panic when I realized that they were silk.

Silk shackles?

What, was I a prisoner of Hugh Hefner?

Now silk is strong, but there's no way that they would expect silk bonds to keep a lycanthrope tied up for very long.

Which, on reflection, suggestst that they don't know that I'm a lycanthrope. Now, my lycanthropy isn't a big State Secret or anything, but then again, it isn't exactly common knowledge, either. So, Nurse Ratchett and her buddy Weston must not be behind this, or Deverel or any of the Medical Research outfits. They all knew.

So, who the hell kidnapped me and brought me here?

Silk shackles... And a wooden surface. No, this is looking less and less like a vivisection. (For which blessings, Lord, we are duly grateful!) So, what the fuck IS going on here?

I waited in the dark for a few minutes. Figuring that the people who brought me here weren't planning to give me a makeover, I decided that the bonds around my wrists had to go. But if they didn't know about my lycanthropy, I didn't want to give up that Ace in the hole, either. I formed claws on the end of my fingers and started worrying away at the silk. Hey, if nothing else, it was something to do while they made up what passed for their minds.

It turned out that I didn't have that much time to wait. Lights set into recesses in the wall came up, illuminating the room. The table to which I was strapped was in the middle of an octagonal cinderblock room. I looked around quickly to get a sense of the layout. It wasn't a very large room, but I got a definite sense that it had been built for a specific purpose, probably having to do with devils. The only metal in the room was a Seraphim devil containment unit and a security camera way up near the roof. The lid of the containment unit was slung open, and the entire car-battery sized containment unit was stashed inside this kinda kludged together looking thing that had cables attached to the poles of the containment unit's individual cells. Piled next to the containment unit was my bident and backpack, and a hamper.

A hamper. My clothes. How very considerate of them! Now all that I have to do is finish cutting through these bonds, free up my legs, and I can get the hell out of here before that Hellcat manages to get free of whatever they put it in. Of course, there will probably be one or two of those assholes in cammies somewhere, but now that I've had a chance to rest, they shouldn't be that big a problem. Especially since they don't know that I'm a lycanthrope; the fact that they just left my stuff there proves that they don't think that I can get free of these restraints.

Working through the silk bonds would take a lot longer, now that I knew that there was a security camera trained on me. Mind you, I barely had time to take all this in, and put two and two together when the blank wooden door opened, and a man stepped in.

He looked like an advertising executive who'd decided to go to the Halloween party as an 'Evil Sorcerer' or something. He was in his late middle age, with close-cropped hair that was receding in the front and silvering at the sides. He had that slightly over-ripe but not quite over-the-hill look that a guy who spent a lot of time in the gym in his younger days (all the power networking was happening in the gyms back then) decides to get his exercise on the golf course (where the REAL power-brokers network) has. He was dressed in a loose, black silk robe.

Now, here is where it gets really interesting. He was wearing the right jewelry. No, I'm not saying that he looked stunning, I'm saying that he was wearing jewelry of exactly the right gemstone and metal on exactly the right places up to and including the bejeweled breastplate. I've had to deal with my fair share of Fausts (people who try to 'cut deals' with devils and goblins), and I've learned to know which amulets will work and which won't. These would. He had every chakra covered, even the lesser ones on his hands and feet. And the dagger that he had tucked into his belt looked pretty professional, too.

Okay, this is the part of the movie where the plucky heroine says something flip to the villain. "Oh, DAH-ling! That jewelry is Dee-VINE! But you simply must do something about your makeup!"

He smugly ignored my insolence. He walked over and looked down at my naked body. Then he looked over his shoulder at the security camera. "Haskell, you can turn off the pick-up in this room now." When the red light on the camera blinked off, he turned his attention back to me.

I noticed that the red light on the security camera was back on almost immediately after bozo turned his back. I think that Haskell isn't the cowed little employee that bozo thinks he or she is.

Bozo smiled down at me complacently. "I suppose you're wondering why I've had you brought here."

"No, not really. Though, I'm sure the Cops will want to know, when they bust your ass for Assault, Kidnapping, Interfering with licensed Paranormal Threat Managers in the course of their duty, Theft of Seraphim Protective Services property and Kiddie Porn!"

He grew even smugger. "Kiddie Porn? Really! We both know, Miss Scott, that despite appearances, you are well over your Majority. And, I also know that your renewed youth is a boon granted to you by the being that you so ungratefully tore to pieces and stored in yon jail."

"Ungrateful? That thing tried to kill me, more than once!"

"Kill, you? Oh, I doubt that very much, Miss Scott. After all, why would the minor godling in that containment unit try to kill its chosen Priest?"

Priest? Is that what he thinks is going on? One of the ways that devils can 'feed' is by being 'worshipped' by a group of gullible - or scared out of their wits - humans. 'Worship', in this case, means letting themselves be drained without being killed, so that they can 'worship' later. In order to do this, the 'god' needs a 'priest' who acts as the focus between the devil and its worshippers. A canny 'priest' can wrangle all sorts of goodies out of the 'god', but it's still a very chancy proposition. Adored or not, a devil is little more than an appetite with a means of sating that appetite. "What makes you think that I'm that thing's 'priest'?"

"The simple fact that you came in close contact with it, and it not only let you live, but gave you the boon of Rejuvenation."

"Hokay, and now you think that you can wrangle a similar swig from the Fountain of Youth? You think that if you kill me, that you'll somehow be in line to become that thing's new 'priest'?"

He smiled snidely. "Something like that. A tad more...involved, but essentially correct."

"Hey, Stupid! Go to the dictionary and look up 'schmuck' - you'll find your picture right next to it! It doesn't work that way! A 'priest' without a cult is just another word for a snack to a devil! Even if you sacrifice me, there's no way that you can appease that thing's hunger enough for it to attune itself to you. Now, if you had, oh say, twelve or more people who could be coerced into being worshippers and letting themselves be drained, you might have a chance. Of course, then you'd have twelve witnesses, most of who would only be too glad to rat you out, to get out from under your thumb. No, it won't work. Now, if you undo these stupid ties, we might be able to come to some sort of mutually beneficial agreement-"

Bozo interrupted my scam with a sharp blow across the face. "I know all of that! While I will take over your relationship with the devil, I have no intention of being its 'Priest' or forming a cult. No, cults and all that are obsolete. The devil in that containment unit is about to become this company's latest operative asset."

"Hunh?"

"When the Haunting started, I immediately realized that ghosts, goblins and devils opened the door to a whole dimension in corporate acquisition. A devil is the ultimate deniable corporate asset. Sabotage, espionage, coercion, subversion and assassination are only the very tip of the iceberg!"

Okay, this guy is either stone cold nuts, or he's the kind of MBA who views everything in the world as a means toward furthering his career, screw little things like proportion, facts, or consequences. "Okay, you're not going to worship it - how do you intend to control it?"

He smiled that really annoying smile that made you want to kick in his teeth again. "Do you see that device? Over the past few years, I've had researchers study the applications of devil binding techniques - under the guise of research into the use of goblin monads in communications, you understand. Once the containment unit is opened, that device will bind each separate monad into a portion of a liquid crystal data processing unit. Once installed into a liquid crystal CPU, the gates of logic imposed by the computer's software will keep in under control."

Okay, this guy is definitely an MBA. Only an MBA can be that arrogant. "And... exactly how do you expect to keep that thing fed? Computer component or no, goblins don't run on AC."

"Oh, that's the really wonderful part about all of this! My researchers assured me that the devil would still be able to siphon off the bio-electric charge of select humans, provided that there was a copper line connecting the CPU and the node with which the human was in contact. Once that CPU is installed in this company's cable television network, the devil will not only be able to siphon off small amounts of bio-electric energy from millions of viewers, but it will create a state of suggestibility in the viewers. We will have the most effective advertising in the business!"

NOW, I was worried. His hare-brained scheme might just possibly work! "Hey, Mister MBA - small problemo there. The goblin in that unit is a Hellcat. Hellcats don't do the 'create a state of suggestibility' thing. That's a Siren and Corrupter thing. Hellcats are Pouncers and Stalkers, not Sirens. I'm a Devil-hunter; I know these things."

"Not a problem. I'm already working on legally acquiring the constituent monads of a Succubus goblin and a Djinn goblin. From separate goblins each, of course. You see, obtaining a goblin wasn't the hard part, Miss Scott. Obtaining a living person who had formed a 'Priest' relationship with a goblin was. That would be you. Once I've taken over your relationship with the Hellcat and bound it into that CPU, I'll simply obtain the Succubus and Djinn, bind them as well, and have my techs heterodyne the units into a single computer controlled 'God'. Between them, I will have almost all of the preter-natural abilities that devils control on tap. I will of course acquire more goblins and have them integrated into the system; you can never have too many devils on tap. And it will all be under MY control."

Now, you're probably asking yourself, 'why is this idiot telling her his entire plan, like a villain in a bad movie?'. Well, if I'm reading this right, he's telling me all of this so that I will unconsciously pass it along to the goblin. The goblin may not have enough awareness to 'want' to do what he wants, but it does reflect enough of the human mentality that it will respond to the suggestion. A goblin always follows the path of least resistance, even if that resistance is only weakened by the presence of a concept. "Won't your Board of Directors have something to say about all of this?"

"Why would they? Once I have the Succubus on-line, I'll simply take control of this entire company. Anyone that doesn't have a dark secret that the Succubus can find out about, I'll simply addict to its pleasure inducing ability. All they have to do is look at a terminal that's connected by a copper wire to my goblinized CPU, and they're as good as mine!"

"Y'know, you're going to have a real hard time getting the researchers and techs that have worked on this to look at one of your terminals. And once it starts happening, at least ONE of them will make a bee-line to the cops."

"Not a problem. All the researchers are dead, and Haskell is the only engineer left who worked on the goblin binding system. And he's going to be the second person that I feed to my pet 'god'."

"Won't you need him to heterodyne the Succubus and Djinn into your system?"

"Not really. He was useful in putting the goblin binding system together, but any two-bit graduate from a tech school could patch together those extra CPUs. He's toast."

"You IDIOT! Since you obviously have NO CONCEPT of any obligation to the rest of humanity, how about we try simple self-preservation? You won't be able to control that thing! If there is one _single_ glitch or error in your control program, you'll completely lose control of the goblin! And how will you be sure if there's a glitch or not, until you test it under real-life conditions? I may not be a computer programmer, but even _I_ know that there's always a bug in a first draft! ONE glitch, and that thing is not only free and out of your control, but it'll be in the fucking INTERNET! Your network of cable lines probably interfaces with the Internet at thousands of points! It 'learned' to merge with copper - what makes you think that it won't be able to merge with fiber optics? It'll be ALL OVER the fucking place! There'll be no stopping it!"

"Possibly. So What? It won't hurt Me. I'll be its priest. And the more people it can affect, the more power it will have to grant me boons. It won't be as good as it would be if I had it under complete control, but it will still be worth doing. And, since I will be its priest, it will keep coming back to me, until I _do_ get the software right."

"Okay, one last plea to sanity - exactly how do you intend to 'co-opt' my 'relationship' with that thing? Just killing me won't do it, y'know. It requires an intense psychic bond."

"I know that. The reason that I had you captured the second that the Hellcat was secure, is that you are still a virgin."

Virgin? Oh, Crap.

"Since your rejuvenation and transformation into a female, you haven't had the opportunity to have sex. I checked, while you were unconscious."

"Dirty Old Man!"

He just chuckled at that. "Really. The psychic bond created when a woman loses her virginity is well documented. It's one of the reasons why women are so fussy about who they lose their virginity to. The bond is especially intense when the 'deflowering' is involuntary and traumatic."

"You're going to rape me?" I asked in a small voice. God, I hope Haskell is recording all of this!

He grinned evilly. "Yes, I am. And after I've taken my pleasure with you, I'll plunge this specially attuned dagger into your stomach, right at the point of your fifth Chakra. It will take you almost an hour to die. As you die, I'll bind the goblin into the CPU and feed your bioelectricity into it. Since I will be the last - and most intense - psychic bond, the priest relationship will default to me. Well, I think that that covers everything. Since I've set the definitions, we can dispense with the chit-chat, and get down to real business."

He walked over to the gizmo that had the devil containment unit kludged into it, and attached a cable to the end of the handle of his dagger. He carried the dagger back to the slab and laid it next to me.

"Now, down to business." He started to run his hands over my body, fondling my budding breasts. Goddamn pervert was really getting into it, too.

"Hey, Asshole! There's one HUGE hole in your plan?"

<Irritated sigh> "And what's that?"

"I don't put out on the first date!" I raked my claws against his cheek, creating three long gashes and raising some blood. My hands had actually been free for a while; I just needed to get him close enough so that I could get him with my feet still bound.

He pulled back with a scream. I bent over and freed my feet with a slash at each remaining bond. Looking up, I went completely feline.

"You - you're a Were!"

"That's right, sweetie," I purred, "a Were-cat. And right now, you look like a nice fat RAT!"

He grabbed his dagger and held it in front of him. "Th- this dagger is attuned to psychic energy! It will get past your defenses as if it were silver!"

Actually, I could poke a couple of thousand holes in that theory, and even if it were true, it would only work if he managed to cut me with it. And while I'm still banged up some from my head-to-head with the Hellcat, my little 'nap' did wonders for me. I smiled ferally, showing my long, pointed fangs. "Boy, when you screw up, you really screw up! All that effort, all that risk, and you catch the wrong cat! Lycanthropes have a totally different relationship with devils. Even if you do manage to kill me with that little piece of tin, you won't inherit your 'priest' status. You'll have explain to away a stolen devil containment unit, a hideously illegal goblin contained in it, and a dead body, with no 'pet god' to help you do it. And that's IF you manage to kill me. Oh, by the way - when I clawed you, I put my mark on you. Now you are that goblin's prey. And since the connection is direct through the devil's chosen instrument - that would be me, Asshole - your amulets won't protect you. They only keep the devil from forming a bond. And that's a done deal. Right now, your only hope is for the Hellcat to be broken down into usable parts. Otherwise, you're its dinner. Put down the knife, Sparky, and get me to a phone, and I won't rip out your throat."

He started to spin some furious damage control, when his wheedlings were interrupted by the sound of something screaming.

A good many dramatic situations begin with screaming.

As one we looked over to the goblin containment unit. On top of the thing containing the containment unit, the now familiar form of the Hellcat was starting to form.

Again as one, we looked at each other and said, "What did you DO?"

"_I_ didn't do anything, I thought that it was YOU!"

"Then _who_?"

Sparky shot a glance at the surveillance camera and saw the red light on.

"Haskell! Haskell, you idiot! I told you to turn the camera off!"

"Schmuck! The POINT is, he somehow found a way of turning the containment unit off!" Then I relaxed. "But then, it's not really my problem - YOU are the one who has to worry. You're the one that smells like food to it. And it looks hungry!"

Sparky gabbled, and said, "What do I do, what do I DO?"

"Well, right off the bat, I'd say that running would be a good idea." He turned to leave, but I grabbed him by the shoulder and held him there with lycanthrope strength.

"Let me go, let me go, let me GOooooo!"

"First, where do I find this 'Haskell' creep?"

"Turn right, he's two doors down on the right!"

"Bon Chance!"

With that, we were both out of the room, closing the door shut behind us. Maybe the construction of the room would keep it inside, maybe not. At the very least, it would slow it down a bit.

Sure enough, down the hall to the right, two doors down on the right was an open door and a few yards past that was a guy in a lab coat, running for all that he was worth. Mister Haskell, I presume.

I hope that being tackled by a naked, lissome young woman is one of Haskell's fantasies, 'cause that's what happened. Even though my ESP told me that this was Haskell, I checked his employee ID. Yep, Edward Haskell.

I slammed Eddie against the wall. "You have a videocard for me, No?"

"What are you talking about? Security! Help! Were!"

I wrapped a hand around his throat, claws extended. "Y'know, Eddie, you're gonna leave here with either my videocard or your throat, but not both." His only response was the sudden smell of urine. I patted him down, gauging his reaction with my ESP. He rang a bell when I patted down the breast pocket of his lab coat. The card was tagged with the date and a big green dollar sign written in a rushed hand. Oh yeah, I knew that anyone who'd work with ol' Sparky would be such a sleaze that blackmail would be second nature. Any worries that Sparky would try to phony up a bogus charge to cover his ass just went bye-bye.

I gave Eddie a fang-intensive smile. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" I shucked his lab coat off of him, (walking around buck-naked is just so 'savage Were-creature'!) and hied myself to his office. Well, it was the only place that I could be reasonably sure was empty and had a phone.

After putting a chair against the door, I checked the security video. The Hellcat was nosing around the door, trying to get out and having a little success. It would get out, but not soon. Unfortunately, my Seraphim ID was in that room. Come to think of it, so were my wallet and keys!

I found a cardreader and checked the contents of Eddie's 'money' card. Yep, the last entry was a multimedia presentation of ol' Sparky's info-dump. Now to armor plate my ass...

I got on the horn to Seraphim, and got Donna, the late night operator. "Hey, Donna, this is Grace Scott. Yeah, well, I haven't called 'cause I've been kind of busy, what with the rejuvenation and the lycanthropy and everything. Oh, Walt and the guys called? They got jumped? Well, that would explain a lot of things. Donna, call them back, and tell them to get to-" I desperately searched around for a piece of paper with a letterhead. "- Inter-continental Integrated Intercommunications. <Hmmppphh> I guess that it's an 'Int' thing. Oh, it's at 1345 T_____ Blvd. Donna? Can you accept a Compressed Digital Information packet? Cool!" I downloaded the entire contents of Eddie's 'money' card. "You got that Donna? Great! Now, after you call the guys and tell them to get here ASAP, I want you to call 6-1-1, and tell them that there's a Hellcat, Entry Code: C/14/26 at this address, and that Seraphim has dibs on it. I'm gonna call them right after I hang up, and have them trace this call, just in case I got the address wrong, I still want you to call them, to verify my story. You got all that? Read it back to me. Perfect! You're a doll! Bye!"

After I hung up on Donna, I called 6-1-1, and got the expected shit about sounding like a young girl, and that I shouldn't waste their time with crank calls. I patched the visual from the camera into their feed. "Oh, Shit. You weren't kidding."

"How nice of you to say so. Now, you're gonna get a confirming call from Seraphim in a few minutes. Oh, crap! It's getting out! Gotta go. Will you accept a CDI? Great! Trace this call, I'm guessing about the address. Remember, tell the Cops you send to ask for Grace Scott!"

I ducked out of the room just in time to see the Hellcat complete its slither under the door. Oh well, I needed to get more clothing than a lab coat, anyway. I burst into the room at a run, and started rummaging through the hamper. Yep, my clothes were there, and for a wonder, so were my wallet and keys. I hurried into my underwear, and was starting to zip up my jumpsuit when the security guys broke into the room.

"Freeze! Don't Move! Put your hands up!"

"Ahhh, guys, there's a contradiction there."

"Just shoot it!" one of the panicked security guards screamed.

"Do you mind if I zip up? Or are you the kind of guys who get off on seeing pubescent cleavage?"

I started to zip up, and that was apparently too much for the fear-stricken guard. He let fly with a three shot burst from his gun. Luckily, he probably wasn't a very good shot, even under the best of conditions. I ducked under his shots as his friends ducked for cover. Not unreasonable - he was probably as dangerous to them as he was to me. I took him out with a double-knuckle punch to his solar plexus. As he keeled over, his wind knocked out of him, I turned on his buddies. "Y'know, if I were a mindless beast, I wouldn't be talking to you, let alone trying to talk sense. Now, are you willing to listen?"

They weren't. They scrambled out of the room, probably in search of reinforcements. Well, I can't really blame them. I'd probably have be a lot more convincing if I pulled in my claws. I did so, not being a complete moron. Just an occasional one. Once I was fully dressed and had the rest of my gear, I disconnected the goblin containment unit from Sparky's gizmo. I took a few minutes, found the liquid crystal CPU that he was talking about and tucked it in a pocket.

Now it was time to go devil-hunting. Again.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Be Vewy, Vewy Quiet....

My problem was that I knew where the Hellcat was going, but I didn't know where the person that it was heading for was going. Heck, I didn't even know what his name was!

Oh well, it couldn't be that big of a building. Maybe Intercontinental was one of those companies that had pictures of the bigwigs in the lobby.

I heard a commotion, and headed toward it. Hey, you never know - maybe the 'Cat was making itself obnoxious. There's nothing like putting down a devil to make the locals think you're one of the good guys.

The commotion turned out to be in a wood paneled area that I took for the lobby. I tried to ghost in and see what the to-do was about. I could tell that there was somebody there. I know this because that somebody clipped me a good one on the chin. What they clipped me with was silver, too. There's this extra sort of kick to it when you get hit by silver; at least there is, if you're a Were.

The hit took me completely by surprise, and I was on the ground. Whoever it was took complete advantage of it, too. They had me spread-eagled on the ground, and were beating the hell out of me with silver shod sticks. Then they flipped me over, to deliver the coup de grace.

"Grace?"

I dared to open my eyes and look up. "Liz?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Looonnnggg story. The short form is, one of the executives at this company is a Faust wannabe. He sent some goons to grab me right after I bagged the Hellcat. I marked him, and the stupid goblin got loose. It's in the building, and after him. I gotta bag the goddam goblin again, before it gets him."

One of the security guards came up and yelled, "What the FUCK are you doing? Kill the goddamn animal!"

Liz whipped around, showing her fangs and ears. "You wanna rephrase that, Jack?"

The guard jerked back. "Goddam freaks are fucking everywhere!"

Chuck McCallen, one of Liz's teammates, pulled me up off the ground. "Are you okay?"

"No. Any of you guys got a side of beef in your back pocket? Why are you here?"

"We got a call from 6-1-1 that there was a vicious Were running amok in the building."

"Call 6-1-1 back. I called them and reported the Hellcat loose. By the way, this IS 1345 T_____ Blvd, isn't it?"

The security squad leader wasted some time calling me a liar, and I wasted some more time showing them all the videocard of Sparky doing his 'Evil Genius' number. At least the security goons put a name to the face on the video. Harold Gunterling, Junior VP in charge of Logistics. Mister Gunterling was still in the building.

And the delay gave the Cops and my guys time to get there. But then, I had to waste some more time showing the videocard again. But at least I didn't have to worry about Gunterling trying to blame all of this on me, or saying that I broke in and threatened him.

George Varley, another of Liz's team, had a problem. "Okay, we got sent in here on a wild goose chase. But what's in it for us, if we help you Seraphim guys take this thing down? I mean, we were here first!"

I was just about at the end of my tether by this time. "Listen UP! We don't have a lot of time to waste! If that thing kills Gunterling, not only do we have to fight a well-fed goblin, but also I'm looking at a felony charge for marking him! Tell you what - we're already getting paid to nail the Hellcat, so Matthews can bill I.I.I. for the call and keep the fee. You guys take half of it's Monads, we'll take the other half. If Matthews or Deverel have a problem with that, let them fight it out, okay?"

Liz's team took the east stairwell up to Gunterling's office on the third floor, and my team took the west stairwell. As he took the containment unit from me, Walt asked me, "Grace, are you sure that you're okay to do this?"

"No. But I've helped to take this thing apart twice so far. The third time's gotta be the charm."

The door to Gunterling's office had been ripped off its hinges, and there was the sound of things crashing and breaking coming from inside. The Matthews' team came from their side, and we came from the other. We did the old 'hand mirror periscope' trick to look inside.

Gunterling was furiously dividing his attention between trying to read something and throwing things in the Hellcat's path. The Hellcat was snarling, because Gunterling had broken a large saltwater aquarium to soak the carpet with water, and this really slowed it down. But not much.

Silently, I pulled out my bident, and motioned for Ben, Liz and the Matthews' team Catcher to do so as well. I mimed that we should go in fast and get it over quickly. My three fellow 'catchers' nodded agreement.

The other six softened Hello Hell-Kitty up by pelting it with darts. I went in first. By this time, I knew exactly where the Hellcat's Heart Monad was, by rote. I got the Heart Monad on the first try. Unfortunately, that's all I was able to do. Hell-Kitty was onto me, as well. It tore at me, opening up some of the wounds that I'd managed to regenerate. And that was its great mistake.

Ben, Liz and Chuck went at it with a will. As I stood there, getting chewed up, they tore it part, Monad by Monad. Finally, the last devil-shard was tucked back in the containment unit, and I could slump down to the floor.

"Dammit, Grace, you were in _no condition_ to do that!" Ray fussed as he hurried in, pulling out his first aid kit.

"Hey, it would'a been ten times worse for anyone else. I'm its 'chosen one', so it can't hurt me. At least, not that badly." <Owch!>

"What are you DOING?" Gunterling screamed from behind his desk. "That thing is a dangerous Were creature! It brought that Hell-thing that tried to eat me here!"

Wayne and Kent, the two uniformed cops who answered the call, came in the door. "Save it, Gunterling. Scott showed us the video of your little tete-a-tete with her on that slab. You are under arrest for kidnapping, grand theft, theft of hazardous materials, conspiracy to commit murder, attempted trafficking with malign preternatural beings, and other charges yet to be specified."

"What are you talking about?" Gunterling shouted. "Arrest THAT, not ME!"

I grinned at Gunterling as Ray touched up my wounds with alcohol. "Remember Haskell, Gunterling? He wasn't just watching us - he was recording it, too. I managed to convince him that his civic duty lay in providing me with the evidence. I also sent copies of our little coffee klatch to Seraphim and the 6-1-1 operator."

Gunterling struggled as Kent slapped the handcuffs on him.

"Oh, yeah, track down that guy Haskell, too. I think he'd be real interested in turning State's Evidence right about now. I'd also find Mister Albert J. Kavanaugh; he's the father of one of the boys who was involved in tonight's devil-hunt earlier, and he's a junior executive with this company. I saw his picture down in the lobby. My guess is that he knew about ol' Harold here's interest in goblins, and told him about the weirdness that his kid was involved in, to pick up a few brownie points with the boss. It's the only way that Harold would know the detail of where we'd be and when it was going down." I fixed Gunterling with a stern eye. "Hell, ratsass bastard even sold you our communications frequencies, didn't he, Harold? "

Then I saw something on Gunterling's desk. I picked it up and leafed through it.

"What's that?" Liz asked.

"Oh, it's what laughing boy here was reading so intently while he was trying to fend off the Hellcat."

"Oh? What is it? The Necronomicon for Dummies?"

"Almost. It's the project report for that doo-hickey that he was going to use to bind that goblin."

"Oh. That would make great evidence against him. Damn shame that we're gonna havta shred it."

"Oh? Why should we destroy evidence?"

"You're kidding, right? That thing is DANGEROUS! The very fact that that kind of technology is possible is a threat to the continued existence of the entire human race! The DA may have to suppress the entire case, just to keep that fact from becoming common knowledge! Once the word gets around, you just know there's going to be other ambitious sociopaths who'll try the same thing, until one of them actually succeeds. With the technology all spelled out, and public information as a piece of evidence in a felony case, it'll only be a matter of months instead of years before we have a devil on the Internet!"

I just smiled a pussycat smile. And who would have better right? "Not necessarily. Read this part right here."

Liz read over my shoulder. It took her a minute or so to absorb the information, but she broke out laughing

"What are you two freaks laughing at?" Gunterling spat from where he was sitting. "Even with that obviously faked video footage, without that report, my lawyers will rip this feeble case apart!"

I grinned at him. "Not necessarily, Sparky! Listen to this - 'Given the constant ionization rate, the entity's essential pattern can be affixed in an Orgone flux'-"

"So what? That's just part of the technical report on the processes involved."

"Schmuck! This entire report is based on trapping a goblin within an Orgone based matrix."

"And?"

"There's NO SUCH THING as Orgone! It only exists in a pseudo-science called 'Orgone Biophysics' that was dreamed up by a crank named Wilhelm Reich back in the last century. Every attempt by a researcher who wasn't already convinced that Orgone existed found no trace of the stuff! After the Haunting, the Orgone partisans tried to resurrect the idea, saying that goblins were 'Orgone Whirlpools', but it still didn't work! Harold, my sweet, those researchers that you killed, ripped you off! You paid them hundreds of thousands of dollars of I.I.I. money for a pipe dream!"

Y'know, ol' Harold looked more stricken at the thought that he'd squandered huge amounts of company money for nothing, than he was at the thought of going to jail.

"AND, if means that it can safely be used as evidence against you."

As Kent and Wayne bundled Gunterling off, Liz briskly clapped her hands. "Okay, people, good job! Now, it's time to roll out!" She opened the lid of the containment unit and pulled out five of the cells. "We'll take these five cells with us, just so that the Brass doesn't have a chance to screw things up. I'll have Matthews call Deverel tomorrow, so they can yell at each other."

"Fine by me. The sooner that thing is broken up, the better."

Liz quirked a wry smile. "Oh, and Guys? After she's had a chance to get a little rest and some food in her, Grace has something important that she has to tell you. DON"T YOU, Grace?"

CHAPTER EIGHT; All's Well... Yada Yada Yada...

A few days later, Liz came calling at my apartment. "Hi, Grace! I thought I'd pop on over and see how you were doing."

"Oh, pretty good. The cuts and stuff that the Hellcat gave me are pretty much gone, but the bruises that your guys gave me with the silver ends of those thumping sticks are gonna be with me for a while."

"And how did things turn out, otherwise?"

"Oh, let's see. Deverel was pissed about losing half of the Monads, but there wasn't a lot that he could do about it. The Hellcat's Heart Monad was destroyed detoxifying about ten tons of radioactive waste yesterday, so there's no chance of it ever coming back. Whiplash is already pricing a new Mercedes with the proceeds of what he's gonna get from suing Intercontinental for their part in Gunterling's scheme. Intercontinental has formally disavowed Gunterling - especially after they saw the videocard and heard what he had planned for them. Without Intercontinental's legal support, the DA thinks that getting a conviction for Gunterling should be a snap. My neighbor, Mrs. Winchell, is still giving me weird looks..."

"That's NOT what I was talking about, and you know it. You told your team that you let yourself get bit on purpose?"

"Yes."

"And how did they take it?"

"Weird. Begley thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever heard of. But then, Orrin always did have a weird sense of humor. Thurston thought it was gross, but he seemed to get over it quick. Abrams immediately went into amateur shrink mode and tried to psychoanalyze me on the spot. And Castellano did the 'how could you lie to me/ I don't know who you are anymore' bit. That was two days ago, and I haven't seen or heard from him since."

"Awww, now you know how hard it is to lose a friend."

"Hey, I didn't just lose a friend, I lost a _partner_! My guys and me are a team! If Ray leaves the team, we can get another Denier, but it won't be the same! The whole dynamic of the group will change! It just won't be the same..." I slumped down on the couch, thoroughly bummed.

Liz looked down at the books and papers on the coffee table. "What's this? Is Miss Grundy piling on the homework again?"

"Sort of. I'm working on the details for an idea that I had."

"Oh? Dew Tell, dew tell!"

"Well, I'm trying to figure out a way of combining the techniques that doctors use to determine how great the influence a goblin has on an attached lycanthrope, and the methods that we Devil-hunters use to track down free-ranging devils. I'm using some techniques that I used to detect the whereabouts of the Hellcat."

"But that was simple for you - you had that bond with it. How do you think you can get such a close tie from a third party?"

"I'm not sure just yet. I'm still working on the details."

"And what brought this on?"

"A sudden surge of belated guilt. Like most non-cursed people, I never gave the Pound that much thought. I knew it was a cesspit, but it didn't really concern me until I was faced with being stuck there. Most of the people in the Pound aren't evil! They're almost as much victims of the goblins as the people they're forced to kill. And they're treated like animals. But you can't really blame the guards and wardens, either. No matter how kind or gentle those people may be when they're in their right minds, any one of them could become a snarling beast under the right conditions. Can you imagine what it must be like working there during a full moon? And let's face it - those people really DO need to be restrained!

"No, the only solution for the situation at the Pound is to do what I did: capture the goblin responsible as quickly as possible, and break it up into pieces. Mind you, some of those poor souls are already too far-gone, and I doubt that there are any Angels in bondage at the Pound. But still, there must be a way to give some of them a real life again. And I'm going to find it, somehow."

"Oh, and how are you going to get that skinflint that you work for to let you work on this admittedly noble crusade?"

"Simple! It's a new service for Seraphim! The friends and relatives of the lycanthropes must want their loved ones back. I'm betting that they'll pay good money to get 'Uncle Charlie' back, even if his teeth are a little funny now."

"Hmmm. And is this going to be a Seraphim specialty?"

"Not if _I_ have anything to say about it. But the bear is gonna be getting one of the guys to go to the Pound and get the readings that I'm gonna need."

"I notice that you expect someone else to go to the Pound for you."

"Oh, and how often have YOU gone to the Pound, hmmm...?"

"Okay, okay, it creeps me out as much as it does you."

"More to the point, we can't really trust them to let us OUT again, no matter what our paperwork says."

"Don't I know it. Anyway, along those lines; since you're so concerned about the welfare of poor downtrodden lycanthropes and now that you have your personal demon chopped up into bite-sized bits, I was thinking that you might want to join my support group."

"Support group?"

"Yes, I belong to a support group of emancipated lycanthropes. People like you and me, who got bit and then got loose. Believe me, it helps to talk with people who know what you're going through!"

"I wasn't aware that there were enough freed lycanthropes in the Tri-city area to even bother forming a support group!"

"Okay, it's a small support group! Still, we are there for you, Gracie. And..."

"And?"

"And, there just happens to be a really cute fifteen-year-old boy Werewolf in our group. His name is Jeremy Spencer..."

"Hold on - you're trying to hitch me up with a fifteen-year-old boy?"

"And why not?"

"Hey, Shinmakage, in case you've forgotten, I'm forty-two years old! It's _illegal_!"

"Only if you have sex with him."

I was about to point out how little that nicety would matter if this kid's parents decided to press charges, when the doorbell rang. Glad of the interruption, I answered the door. Ray Castellano was standing there looking rather sheepish. "Uhm, HI, Grace."

"Hi, Ray." We stood there for a long awkward moment, saying nothing. Finally, I gave in and said, "Well?"

Ray took a deep breath and let it out. I swear, I have seen this man less nervous facing down a gibbering hellhound. Okay, the Eye-biter unnerved him more, but those things are really creepy. "Uhm, Grace, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about the way that I acted. I mean, I don't know much about this, y'know transsexualism stuff. At least not more than I've seen on TV. Y'see, I'm a good Catholic-"

"I know that, Ray. You've shown me your daughter's Confirmation pictures only a thousand times."

"I know, I know! Grace, I just never had to think about people like you being, y'know... People."

"Ray, that kind of thinking is the reason that people like me don't tell most other people that we are people like that."

"Greg! I mean - Grace! I'm Sorry, okay?"

"Are you going to goon out like that again, if I decide to start dating?"

"You're dating someone?"

"No, but I'd like to have the option open."

"Okay, I can see that. It's all right with me, if you date. You're a woman now, no matter how it happened. And I'm not your father."

"Oh, and I was so looking forward to climbing up on your lap and having you read me a story!"

"Grace!" Liz shouted warningly from the living room.

"Sorry. Too many Gilmore Girls re-runs."

"Yeah, well, I sort of had it coming. But, when Liz told me how miserable you were-"

I shot a withering look at Liz, who just looked up at the ceiling and started whistling innocently.

"-I realized how much you mean to me. And she gave me a great idea for something to say 'I'm sorry'." He pulled something out from behind his back. It was one of those cute 'teddybear' backpacks. I gave a squeal of delight and hugged him. And back in the living room, I saw Liz giving me one of those wiseass fox-smiles that bodes no one well.

I think that I owe her at least one date with Jeremy Spencer now.

END