Prologue Johnny hid under the covers. His night-light dimly illuminated the four walls of the room with its Luke Skywalker posters and all. Through the thin sheets he could make out a vague shape. It had spindly arms and a long bumpy nose. It breathed with soft, lispy sucking sounds. Johnny knew all about boogeymen. He saw them from time to time. Mostly they hid but sometimes even during the day you could catch them out of the corner of your eye before they turned themselves into a knotty tree trunk or whatever. Tonight though, she came to his room. Johnny didn't know how he knew this was a woman boogeyman, he just did. Johnny's breath started to catch in his chest. She was creeping closer and closer and Johnny couldn't think of what to do. He didn't have any water to throw at her and his mom had taken away his flashlight. Johnny's mind turned and turned in panic. The big kids had clearly told him how the boogeyman loved to chew up little boys slowly and pick their teeth with the bones after they were done eating. It was all Johnny that could think of. She was almost at the bed now. Johnny saw the boogeywoman reaching out towards the covers. He heard the sound of spittle being sucked in. This broke the little boy's nerve. Johnny let out a shrieking scream that tore at his lungs. Soon sounds of alarm came from somewhere deeper inside the house. Johnny saw that the boogeywoman had scuttled away back towards the same closet from which it had entered the room. Suddenly the room was awash in light as Johnny's mother threw open the door. Johnny screamed even louder fearing for his mother's life now too. The output was too much for his weak lungs, Johnny started into an asthma attack. "Monster, closet, dark." Johnny got out between gasps for air without coming out from under the covers. Johnny's mom dashed out of the room, returning seconds later with an inhaler and an aerosol can. She gave Johnny the inhaler and followed his gaze to the open closet door. "I will take care of it Johnny." She fogged the whole closet until the room was saturated with the smell of disinfectant. With a well hidden, slightly patronizing smile she closed the door. "There Johnny, no boogeyman could survive that." "Thank you,” he said after he had finished his inhaler. His mom smiled with that beaming smile of hers. She kissed Johnny on the forehead and started to leave his room. Johnny spoke up just as she reached to shut the door behind her. "Johnny is a baby name mom, everyone says that." "Okay then honey, good night John,” she said leaving the door slightly ajar. She was right. The poor boggart (they are very often confused for boogeymen after all) was dead before Johnny fell back asleep. Curiosity didn't kill the cat this time. It got the boggart. It shouldn't have bothered trying to figure out why the little boy could see her. It was just another casualty of an ordinary life. John wouldn't see anything else supernatural for many, many years. Chapter One John Donnelly liked eating his lunch outside, especially in the Botanical Gardens. Spending eight hours or more inside the confines of his cab got to him. He needed room to stretch out his legs and fresh air to clear out the fare funk that clung to his cab at times. This was a perfect afternoon for doing so. It was a come and go type of day. One of those days when the clouds raced across the sun in random intervals leaving children to chase the shadow edges as they coasted across the ground. An end of the summer day that was almost chilly at times and almost hot at times, but never quite at that nice in between place. School had been back in session for a week now, so an occasional school group would wander through on their beginning of the year field trip. John leaned back and grabbed the back of the solid stone bench enjoying the laziness of the afternoon. John was half-heartedly eating his chicken salad sandwich. He could almost hear his mother telling him the perfect way to not waste his left over chicken with every bite. He was enjoying sounds of the kids playing as he sat people watching. The Back Bay Nannies, as he called them, liked to bring their little charges down on nice days. This was another reason that he often took his lunch here. The kids playing and swan boats paddling along were a welcome distraction from hassles of traffic on a Friday afternoon. If it was a really lucky day he might actually get to chat one of the nannies up, at least until they found out he was just a cabby and a journalism grad student and a little too old for his boyish good looks. Being a cabby was not a glamorous job in the least. He watched as a swan boat disappeared under the walking bridge. So absorbed in his lazy reverie was he that he didn’t notice a glob of chicken salad falling onto his shirt until it was too late. In that exact moment as he started to look away from the bridge and down to his shirt, he suddenly noticed that a woman was standing apart from the passers-by on the bridge out of the corner of his eye. She was crying quite uncontrollably. John thought it was odd that no one was stopping to help the woman, or at the least to inquire as to what was wrong. As he looked closer, he had a little butterfly in his stomach. Could that really be Siobhan? Why hadn't he noticed her before he thought to himself. He had been head over heel for her in high school. She ran in different circles than him though. She was one of the popular girls, well-to-do and always had a boyfriend who was rich and popular. They shared a class or two and she was kind enough towards him, but it was in a way that made it clear she did not see John as anyhting other than 'that nice boy in algebra'. Food stain forgotten, he looked back to the bridge where she stood crying down at her reflection. Ordinary people walked by her heedless of her sobbing as though she wasn't even there. She would still be very beautiful John thought if her face wasn't all blotchy and puffy from her crying jag. The years had barely touched her beauty. She was dressed a little darkly for the day he thought, but then who was he, John of the food stained shirt, to judge fashion. Someone really needs to see what’s wrong with her before she starts hyperventilating or something he thought. Before he realized what he was doing, John was fishing out his handkerchief as he made his way to the bridge. He walked straight up to her "Here you go. Is there anything I can do to help?" He said as he offered her the hankerchief She then looked up. A startled look was on her face, as though she had no idea where John had come from. "Oh, no thank you." She started with a number of hics as he sobbing abated. “I just figured you should calm down some. Here,” he said offering the handkerchief again. She took it without really looking up. "You're a kind soul, aren't you?" she said, an edge of apprehension edging into her voice. A fresh look of panic came over her blotched face. She tensed. “You look familiar for some reason. You aren't one of Rusty's men are you?” This confused John. “I'm John Donnelly. You might not remember me, but we went to High School together. You’ve been crying hard for a while, and I just couldn’t eat my lunch and ignore you. Not like all these people anyways,” he finished motioning to She looked about as if she hadn’t noticed anyone else in the park before. “Oh by the Gods,” she said as she turned her head up to the sky. “John? A mundey? I can’t do this, not now…” With that, she turned away and began to run away from John. "Hey, I need that back! Please." John called out to her. It was his grandfather's silk handkerchief and one of John's favorites after all. After a second of indecision he started after her but where the flow of people naturally avoided her, John had to dodge baby strollers and old men with canes who very much did not like running in their general vicinity. John was intent on catching up with the strange girl. He was just clearing a school group that was hogging the path when a man ran straight into him, bowling him over much like billy goat would - if it could run on two legs that is. "What are ye about?" said the shorter man after they had both tumbled to the ground. He wore a dress shirt that was buttoned unevenly with only one shirttail tucked into the longer style of basketball shorts. Sandals adorned his gnarled feet and he smelled slightly unpleasant. "Six foot one I'd say!" He continued with a short bray of a laugh before John could even catch his breath. John was trying to untangle himself from his odd tackler without much luck. Just as he regained his footing, the man tripped him again. "You don't avoid me..." said the strange man as John fell to the ground once more. It was as much a question as it was a statement. "It's difficult when you charge into me and then trip me." said John, his voice filled with exasperation as he had now completely lost sight of the woman and his grandfather’s handkerchief. People passed by looking on John with confusion or distain, yet none seemed to even take note of the other man sprawled on the ground. He hopped up with unnatural grace and offered his hand out to John. "Skip." He said. John didn't know what to make of the man, so he took the offered hand expecting a hand up, however all Skip did was shake his hand. "A little help?" John asked. At that Skip hefted John up off the ground with a shoulder wrenching pull, while launching into a badly off-key rendition of the Beatles song 'Help'. "Help - yer chasin' the Lady? Help..." Skip broke the question in along with the tune. John tried to catch a glimpse of her along the street somewhere and replied back. "Yes, she has something of mine." Skip chuckled. "She has a way of taking and giving in her own manner. Many before you have tried to catch that one." Skip reached out and flicked the glob of chicken salad off of John's shirt. He stuck his whole finger in his mouth and hummed with appreciation. "Ye make this yerself there Mister John Donnelly? It’s pretty good for a mundey." John gave his full attention to the little pest of a man that seemed to know more about him than he let on at first and let out an exasperated sigh. “How do you know my name, and what does this have to do with Monday?” He was clearly getting mad now. His hands had balled into fists and his eyes glared down at Skip Skip laughed in an almost unnerving way. “Yer John Donnelly because you couldn’t be anyone else of course. You could try bein' whatever day of the week you like. I like Friday. They make such great songs about the weekend.” Skip began singing again, ‘S-A-T-U-R-DAY, hey!’ before he saw the scowl darkening on John’s face. He remembered his previous train of thought and continued. “Yer a mundey, or a mundane if ye prefer. You folks always ignore us folks, but I’m not one to keep a grudge, so well met!” Skip finished and held out his hand as if to shake hands in greeting all over again. John still had no idea what this attention deficient little man was talking about. Skip seemed not to notice John's lack of comprehension. "Yer gonna need some help if yer questing after the Lady ye know,“ he continued. "Especially seein' as yer a mundey." John looked at Skip for a long moment. This was just too odd of a lunch break for him. “I just wanted a nice little lunch break. I am going to go back to my cab and go back to work. That’s what I’m going to do. I don’t know any princes or ladies or anything about mundanes or whatever else you’ve been talking about. I have fares to catch.” “I love fairs!” Skip said, hopping up and down with much excitement. “King Richard’s Fair is my favorite, but there are so many good one, not as many as there used to be huh? Candied apples and cotton candy, hot shit!” John backed away from Skip as the little man kept talking about various rides and foods, completely absorbed in his memories until John was well down the path and could no longer hear him. He hopped in his cab and looked back one last time to see Skip hopping about in pantomime as though he was swinging the hammer to ring the bell. Soon he had picked up a fare and was well on the way to putting the preceding strangeness out of his mind. Commonwealth to Cambridge, a crappy tip and ten minutes later he was alone in his cab in Harvard Square. About five blocks later as he was stopped at a red light, the back door of the cab opened and Skip got in. "Hey, lost yer end of the string for a minute there Johnny. It's okay though, like playing with a ball of yarn." Skip said without missing a beat. "It's John, thank you. Where to?" John tried to keep his tone even. He had no idea how Skip had found him or had made the cross-town trip so fast. He did know that he wanted to be rid of the pesky man. "Bah, yer a Johnny, I got a nose for these things." Skip sniffed deeply. "Mmm, muffins and coffee. You must be hungry, left half yer sandwich back at the park." "I asked you where you needed to go sir." John was trying to keep Skip at bay by instilling some authority. John had no idea how futile such things are with the Fae-touched, and this one in particular. John didn't even know there was such a thing as being Fae-touched for that matter. "Sir?" Skip looked about as if there was someone else in the cab. "Ah, yer not seein' it. Lady Luck don't take what ain't wagered, but she got yer handkerchief don't she!" John looked back at Skip through the rear view mirror and smudged plexiglas protection panel. "Lady Luck?" He pulled the cab around the block and stopped on a residential street. He evened out his breathing and turned in his seat, propping up his arm on the back of the seat so he could look evenly at Skip. "Look. I don't know who you are, or how the hell you caught up with me so quick. I'm just a working stiff trying to put a few dimes together. I don't need some crazy fool hogging up my back seat. Take your Lady Luck and get out." "She ain't mine, or anyone's. If she was ye'd be in the lead I'd say. She's in trouble and either somethin' in her or somethin' in you brought ya both together and I ain't for lettin' either of ye ignore it." "Fine, then go bother her." "Ah, well, there's a problem there. I can only find yer end of the string. It's got that just frayed feel to it ya know? 'Sides, if I can find ye, so can other folks. Yer the freshest lead to Siobhan." Skip said with a wince. His eyes darted up and sown the street, scanning the windows facing the street. "What are you looking for?" "It's not what, or at least usually it's a who. You gone down the rabbit hole Alice, whether you knew it or not. At least it's still daylight. Tosh won't be up 'til after dark. Cambridge here is thick with technomancers though, could we go back downtown, or at least over into Charlestown?" John looked away from Skip to survey the street. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, when he looked back Skip was sitting next him. "How in the hell do you do that?" Skip looked John straight in the eyes and looked calmly at him for the first time since they had met. "If I knew, I'd tell ye. But right now we got to go." John felt a palpable increase in tension. A couple students were walking along the street, but nothing looked out of place. However, the hair on the back of his neck was standing straight and Skip had started whining like a scared dog. One of the students broke for the cab at a run. The front automatic door locks engaged on their own. That was enough for John. He slammed the gear selector into drive and hit the gas. Nothing happened, the engine was dead. Skip went into incoherent histrionics. He babbled in languages the John could not recognize. As his babbling picked up-tempo, the pressure in the cab increased until John's ears popped and the world seemed to stop. Birds were suspended in mid air; the student was frozen in mid-stride. Skip strained to speak through gritted teeth. "Start the car. Go." he said with great effort. It felt like driving through molasses but John got moving. Skip was thankfully silent, but the frozen world unnerved John. He was about to say something as they were passing under I-93 into Charlestown when the world sudden caught motion. John stomach flipped as though he was on a roller coaster. His mid reeled from the sheer shock of all he had witnessed in the past half hour. He pulled into the offsite parking garage for his company. He got out of the car and began pacing back and forth. Skip emerged from the car slowly. He was soaked in sweat and looked very weak. "What is all this? What is happening?" John demanded. Skip waved apologetically. He sat heavily on the hood of the cab. "You're not in Kansas anymore, even though it still looks the same. I don't know why, but Lady Luck has gifted you. She took your favor with nothing expected in return." A slightly lewd look crossed Skip's tired face. "I like her favors. Mmmmhmm. She is so hot." John snapped loudly in Skip's face. Skip suddenly focused on John again. "Sorry, she's a new one to the title, and in trouble, but there is something about you Mr. John Donnelly. No normal should be able to see the Lady, just like no normal should be able to see us fae types that we don't want to. You can though, and thanks to that you have been either cursed or blessed, or both." Skip wiped his brow with a shaky hand. "You have a part to play, I can see yer strand is way tangled. You can run from it, but you'll get chewed up." "I still don't understand, what happened back there?" "I had to play with the clock hands a bit." An inspired look flashed in Skip's eyes for a second and he started humming along to some tune in his head John still looked confused. "Please, just pretend that I don't understand everything because, well I don't." Skip considered John's statement as he lay down on the hood of the cab. "It's just that it takes a lot out of me to slow everything else down instead just speeding me up. I don't know how else to explain it." With that Skip curled up in a ball and fell asleep right there. ----- John shoved at Skip, jostling him awake. "You're not getting off that easy. You've just turned everything I know upside down in less than an hour and I need better answers than I don't know how to explain it." John said. Recognition flashed as Skip hopped up, wide-awake now. "Hmm, I'm sure than yer the one who's been wrong sides up all on yer own, but here." Skip slid down the hood to stand directly in front of John. He reached out far quicker than John could react to, grabbing the man around the head with his thumbs at John's temples. John's stomach flipped around like a fish out of water and his head started to ache. At first John couldn't figure out why, but then he realized that his vision was clouded. At first it was like seeing stars after hitting your head, but gradually fuzzy shapes would drift across his vision. He closed his eyes to try to stop the sensations but it was no use, it only stopped the double exposed effect. He shook his head to try to dislodge himself from Skip's grip, but it was useless. With his eyes shut tight against the world, the image began the shift like a camera panning out. Soon he 'saw' a large mass that resembled a nest of wires, or maybe a bowl of spaghetti piled high to overflowing. The strands moved occasionally and the colors were on a kaleidoscope scale. It was starting to seriously unnerve John. "Keep yer eyes shut and concentrate on someone, like yer ma or dad." Skip said. John opened his eyes to look at Skip, but immediately wished he hadn't. He couldn't focus on anything with 2 separate visions fighting for control of his brain. He felt lightheaded as if he was going to pass out. "Shut yer eyes dammit." Skip said again. John took his advice this time. "Now concentrate on someone." John thought of Melissa. Melissa of the need to take things to the next level and what is journalism major going to get you camps. The mass undulated slowly and a light gray strand came to the top. It was intertwined with a darker gray strand but for some reason John 'knew' the light gray represented her. He also knew that the darker one was her current boyfriend, a newly hired lawyer at a mid sized law firm. He was just about to learn this proper young republican's name when something else occurred to him. Melissa's strand was incomplete somehow. Something was missing from further back into the nest. As he tried to find out what it was a dark shape emerged from the background. It was evil and full of malice and shook John's soul. He started to cower from it but noticed there were other amorphorous shapes back there. They were too immense for his psyche to take in. The entire scene made John question the very nature of reality. Suddenly it was all gone except the back of his eyelids. John felt like a run had been pulled out from under his feet. He was dizzy and confused. He opened his eyes are realized that he was kneeling on the ground in front of Skip. The little man gave John a perturbed look. "I said to concentrate on someone, not something. The Ancients don't like folks lookin' at 'em." Skip said in warning. "I don't know what you saw, but in know what was lookin' back, and ye don't want that kind of attention. Hopefully you can stop asking me how I know things and just settle for the fact that I do." He folded his harms as if that finished the matter. "So can you turn it off? You know, see one or the other?" John asked. Skip looked away wistfully for a second. "No. It's all I've known." John considered Skip's situation for a minute, growing up as a child, always seeing things that no one else saw, learning things that no one should know. It pulled at something in him. Skip may be very irritating, but at least John had an idea now of why he was that way. "I will take it that you know what you are talking about, but I still don't see why I should be concerned with some woman I never met before today." John said. Skip just rolled his eyes. Chapter Two Tosh scowled at the stupid humans that passed him by. He never seemed to have much patience for anything though. He stomped along the sidewalk chewing on the end of a very fat cigar. While he was only of medium height, he was twice again as wide as a normal man. His forearms were as big around as most men's calves. His eyes barely controlled the red glow of anger tonight however. Siobhan had left him. She hadn't left him an explanation, just a note with two words on it - I'm sorry. Sorry wasn't the word for it Tosh thought as he flicked his lit cigar towards an older woman. He entered the Million Year Picnic, looking past the stacks of comics. The greasy clerk towards the back of the shop looked around like a caged animal as he caught Tosh's eye. Tosh made straight for him, pushing the few nerdy customers between them out of the way. "Can I see you in the back?" They made their way through dark hallway that was so crowded that Tosh had to turn sideways. They emerged into a dingy storeroom that smelled of mold and body odor with a faint hint of ash or smoke. Tosh grabbed the thin man by the shoulder roughly and turned him around so they stood face to face. "You know why I'm here pipsqueak, so out with it." "I don't know where the Lady, I mean where Siobhan is." said the clearly frightened man. "Tracking her is far beyond the skills of an apprentice diviner like me. Please let go of my shoulder. You're hurting me." Tosh released his grip, shoving the young man back. "You think I would ever care what happened to a foolish apprentice? You have a debt to settle mage, and this is my term for saving your pathetic hide." Tosh snarled revealing his oversized canine teeth. He threw a knife up into the ceiling, disabling the room's smoke detector. "No, I know you always have an angle. Let me concentrate." The young man stood apart from Tosh. He looked through the newspaper and tore out a few pages. These he put into a metal trash can and set them on fire. As the flames took hold, the young man's eyes rolled back into his head for just a second. He caught and released the smoke emerging from the can with the rest of the newspaper, just as a Native American might use a blanket or bough to make smoke signals. It only took a few seconds for the fire to burn itself out, and immediately the young man began sifting through the ashes. "I don't know where she is now." Tosh stepped toward the young man, his eyes full of malice. "I can tell you where she was this afternoon though!" the young man blurted out just before Tosh's hand closed around his throat. "Speak it clear fool." Tosh said. "She was in the Botanical Gardens this afternoon. A norm met her and she now carries a token of his. Find the norm and he may lead you to her." Tosh could feel the young man swallowing nervously. He could also feel the throbbing pulse in the young man's veins. Suddenly Tosh was hungry. The urgent glow in Tosh's eyes put the young mage on edge. Tosh knew he couldn't feed on this one. He was too valuable and too malleable to waste for such a base need. Tosh could however feed off his fear. While normals made the best blood-sacks, enlightened beings such as this mage were delicious in their varieties of fear. Tosh gripped the mage's throat tighter and lifted him off the ground. Tosh's eyes flared a violent crimson as her stared into the mage's. "What have you left out?" "Skip..." the mage croaked. Tosh considered the reply. After a second he realized what it meant. "What about the little son of a bitch?" Tosh's grip loosened slightly, enough to let the mage talk but still tight enough to easily hold him off the ground. "Skip is with him, or was. They crossed over into Charlestown and you know how difficult it can be to find anything there, especially someone like Skip." Tosh cursed and dropped the mage unceremoniously. He stalked out of the shop deep in his own thoughts. Tosh hated the Fae in general, but of them all, Skip was one of the most reviled. It wasn't too uncommon an attitude either, except over in the Redcap neighborhoods of Charlestown. He had a way of turning up wherever and whenever it was most inconvenient. "Turnabout's a bitch faerie." Tosh said as her threw the shop door open. It slammed against the stop and a spider web of cracks erupted from the glass. Tosh leered at his facetted reflection in the nearly shattered door. A thought occurred to Tosh and he called back without looking. "The norm?" The diviner was just coming out of the back of the shop. He hesitated for a second until Tosh half turned and started to look back. "John Donnelly." He blurted out, relieved to see Tosh turn back away and leave without further incident. The young man breathed a sigh of relief that gradually became a wry chuckle. Tosh had gotten all the information that he had wanted. He just hadn't bothered to find out all the information that the mage had garnered. This was the trick when it came to diviners. The young man quickly ushered out the last few stragglers and closed the shop down early. He suddenly had a busy night ahead of him. ----- The room was spartan in nature. There were no decorations on the walls to distract the eye. Each of the three desks faced each other in a roughly triangular manner. The only illumination was the eldritch glow of the monitors on each desk. There was a low hum from the assembled computer fans and various noises as screens flashed by rapidly on each computer. In the middle of these stood a twenty something, or perhaps he was thirty something, man. He wore shaded glasses and a suit jacket so long that looked almost as if it could have tails. He had a black watch cap on and an earphone in his ear. The technomancer stood orchestrating the whirlwind of flashing screens and data regurgitation like a conductor with his eyes closed and his face awash from the fluorescence of the monitors. A beeping interrupted the reverie. Ender opened his eyes and flashed an angry look at the terminal on his left. He waved in the direction of the noise. "What." He said to the air. "Um, I was told to call if I heard anything involving Lady Luck. Well Tosh was just here." Said the voice on the other end of the disembodied conversation. Ender stopped motioning at the other two desks and immediately pulled out a jack from his inside jacket pocket. He plugged it into a jack among the electronic devices beside the speakers that the voice came from. With the conversation now secured Ender answered. "Yes, you are correct to call me. What do you have for me?" "How much is it worth to you is the question,” replied the store clerk/diviner. Ender looked into the monitor with pure malice. He hated the lesser arts and their practitioners. He especially hated diviners with their smug I know more than you do attitudes. Right now though he couldn't deny that additional information would help him further his mission. "I don't care for your play acting Justin. I will credit your accounts with my standard rate. You already knew this." Ender said in a flat tone that left little room for debate. There was a pause on the other end. "I suppose. Well Tosh came in about ready to tear my shop apart unless I could locate Siobhan for him." Ender smiled as thoughts of the bulldog of a vampire tearing Justin apart danced in his head. "So Tosh and Siobhan are no longer together?" "There was a break of some kind, yes. He was very intent on finding her. I couldn't locate her of course, but I did point him in the right direction. It seems as though she had some interaction with a normal named John Donnelly." Justin included a very incomplete description of John. Ender shot a finger out at the adjacent monitor. Screens of information about all the John, Jon, Jonathan, Johnathan and J. Donnellys within 100 miles started to cascade across the screen. He sensed there was more. "What else?" "Well, very soon after this meeting, Skip came into the picture. So far as I know, Skip is still with him in Charlestown, that’s where my trail ran out." Ender considered this. Charlestown was a terrible area for the technomancers. They had made some inroads around the Navy Yard it was true, but the hill and the northern neighborhoods were still Fae strongholds. That damned Bunker Hill memorial cast a long shadow. "So what did you leave out when in your conversation with Tosh?" There was a longer pause this time. "I haven't told anyone else this. It's huge, and if you want it kept that way, it will cost you double." Ender kept his rising anger out of his voice. "If it is truly as important as you think it is, I will pay that fee," he said evenly. His anger turned to shock abruptly at the reply. "Lady Luck is pregnant." Chapter 3 The streets were crowded here. Houses stood next to each other with barely enough room for a man to walk between them sometimes. It was as if they huddled together in preparation for some Nor'easter to blow in off the harbor. Surrounded by these tightly spaced sentries, the hill opened up. In this opening was a great lawn with the massive needle in the middle of it. The Bunker Hill monument stood like a looming general, looking both back at the city and out towards the suburban sprawl. A group of redheaded young men congregated on a street corner. They were not a happy lot, but saved their worst glares for the few tourists that straggled about in the twilight snapping pictures. Skip headed straight for them, dragging John along in his wake. It was taking forever though, because whenever a flash would go off, Skip would start walking in that direction until John reminded him that they were going to meet someone. The pair walked right up to the group of tough looking men, with their faded denim jackets and metal shod boots. A particularly freckled young man stepped forward, scuffing his feet roughly causing scratches along the sidewalk. "Skip," he said with a questioning motion towards John. "Pat," Skip said. "Meet my friend John. We got business with yer dad." Pat sneered to his buddies. John's eyes widened when he saw the flash of teeth, all of them filed to points by the looks of it. Noticing the look, Pat stepped up to John with a preternatural speed. John froze. The two stood eye to eye for a minute before John cleared his throat. "Why ye bring him 'ere Skip, you know how we feel about outsiders," Pat said without breaking his stare. Something occurred just then to John. He had done some preliminary research on Charlestown a couple years back for a story on unsolved murders. Charlestown was often sited as the unsolved murder capitol of the country. It had a reputation as being a very insular community. At that moment, he realized that he could very well become part of that stat block of some other reporter’s story. "It's a matter for yer dad Pat, not you," Skip said, edging between the two. "'Sides, I'm an outsider if ye wanna go by the code too." Pat broke off his stare and took on a more sardonic attitude. "You've never had a side Skip, save your own. Dad's upstairs but he's sure to be pickled a bit by now. Good luck." The whole group chuckled at that. "Lets go see the Herring then!" Skip seemed not to notice the derision directed at him. He led John up the steps and into the small house. It was very small and antiquated inside. Figurines, printed collectors plates, black and white framed photos and various other nick-knacks lined the available shelf space. Afghans adorned the backs of the furniture. The smell of herbs and cabbage, along with liquor and cigar smoke assaulted John's nose. This was underlayed by tangy metallic smell that John couldn't quite place. The climbed the stairs towards the sound of a TV blaring. The cigar and liquor smell go stronger as they came into the parlor. It was a small room with a wooden frame, tweed plaid couch and an olive green easy chair. In the chair sat a balding man, his few wisps of hair were a graying red that looked just shy of retirement age. He had a paunch but was not necessarily fat. An open bottle of Jameson sat on a TV tray next to an ash try with a cigar stub in it and a coffee mug. The man looked up with bleary eyes, delayed recognition flickered in them. "Skip," the man said with the barest hint of a slur as he smiled and motioned to the couch. "I was just watching my programs. What brings you to my neck of the woods?" "This one does," Skip said motioning to John after shaking the man's hand. "Rierdan Scott, this is John Donnelly," Skip said as he took a seat on the couch. He motioned for John to go shake the man's hand and then became immediately engrossed in the TV. "Glad to meet you Mr. Scott," John said as he offered his hand. The man shook John's hand in his steely grip and studied John through bloodshot eyes for just a second more than John was comfortable with. He looked back to the TV, ignoring Skip and John for the time being. Skip looked purposefully from John to the open space on the couch. John sat on the edge of the couch. He didn't want to offend anyone, but it didn't seem to him like watching TV was a very productive use of their time. He shifted back and forth for the next ten minutes. A half hour passed and the program ended before either Rierdan or Skip said anything else. Rierdan broke the silence. "Donnelly, huh? That’s a good Irish name. Where're your people from?" Rierdan had one of those thick Boston accents that gave proper speaking middle-american people fits. Where sound like Whay-ah, etc.. "My grandfather grew up in Dorchester. I grew up on the South Shore in a few spots." "Ah, so you're one of those once a year Irish then," he said with a wave of dismissal as he looked back over to Skip. "Why'd you bring him here?" "He's it. Ollie Ollie oxen free," Skip said without looking away from the TV. Rierdan looked back at John, the haze of drink a little less prevalent this time. "You sure?" "Does a bear shit in the woods?" Skip said in a mockingly country twang as he watched commercials, engrossed in a burger shop jingle. John stood in front of the TV, blocking everyone's view. "Could you stop talking about me like I wasn't here?" He crossed his arms and looked from Skip to Rierdan and back again. Rierdan and Skip looked at each other. Skip shrugged then looked back at John as if he didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Rierdan sighed and spoke up. "Calm down, and for Pete’s sake stop blocking my programs. Your spastic friend here thinks you have potential is all. Now why would he think that?" John sat down, sinking into the couch. He relayed the events of the afternoon. Just before he got to the part about how Skip saved them from the attack on the cab, Skip broke in, "and then I whisked him away. We bummed around for a while, grabbed some eats and then came here." "And what do you think I can do for you?" Rierdan said. "We're just needin a place to lay low, at least 'til morning." Skip said. John looked up at this. "I have my own apartment thank you. I never agreed to anything other than coming here to talk to someone." "If he is, you have a lot of work before you." Rierdan said to Skip. "I can't have you stay here tonight you know that." Skip nodded. Rierdan continued, "St. Pat's homeless shelter though - It’s as safe a place from detection as any under our protection. I can have my boys check in and maybe one or two keep watch. Might give you away, might not. Your choice." Skip looked like he was thinking for a minute; he pulled an amber colored glass flask that looked to have a dark liquid with a consistency slightly like syrup in it. The flask was far too large to have been in Skip's back pocket out from behind him. "No men needed. I guess, deal." Rierdan nodded in agreement. He grabbed the bottle and hastily stuffed it down into the cushion of his easy chair. They both stood and shook hands solemnly. Rierdan offered to see them out and soon the three of them came out into the alley. It was full on dark now. As they got closer to the street they could hear the sounds of fighting. A body went flying across the mouth of the alley. Skip pulled on John's sleeve. "Stick close to me." As they came out of the alley onto the street a chaotic scene greeted them. The young men were piled onto someone or something that was barely being contained. As they tumbled about John realized it was a man wearing a leather jacket under there. Suddenly the pile shifted and a squat, broadshouldered form erupted from the group. His eyes were pure crimson and fangs shown in the moonlight. The scene reminded John of a nature program, as if a pack of wolves were defending their territory against a grizzly bear. Rierdan let out a primal growl. His aspect changed slightly as his eyes took on an eerie green shade, like glow in the dark slime and his jaw jutted forward. All of the red heads were fighting against this interloper with all that they had, but the biting was the fiercest. Three of the young men held the invader back by the arms while another was tearing at his back. Two of the men lay on the ground, barely moving. "Tosh," Skip whispered. "Be gone vampire." the now monstrous Rierdan said in a voice that was as thick as gravel. "Give me the norm. I know he is still on your turf." Tosh sniffed and looked in Skip and John's direction. A surge shot through Tosh's body as he recognized Skip. He threw off two of the young men and broke towards John. His blind focus cost him dearly as Rierdan barreled into his side, mouth leading. Rierdan tore a chunk of leather jacket, flesh and bone as he and Tosh tumbled out into the street. "I may be an elder, but there's some iron left in me blood sucker." Rierdan said as they came to a stop. They both stood and faced off against each other. Tosh had gashes across his back and arms and his side was torn open. Any one of these injuries could kill a normal man, but the square battering ram of a vampire looked as if there was still plenty of fight left in him. The remaining able-bodied members of Rierdan's crew closed in around the vampire. They moved in unison of purpose, just like a pack. Tosh looked around to each of them. He found the face he was looking for and charged Rierdan's son. Rough talon-like fingers gripped his throat tightly, ready to tear out the young man's windpipe in an instant. "This is no game old fool. I will have the one who can find Siobhan. Turn him over now!" Rierdan turned at looked from Skip to John and then back to his son. He opened his mouth to speak but never got the chance to, a gurgled shout came from Rierdan's son as the young man threw himself backwards, as Tosh stepped in that direction to correct his balance, the rest of the young men pounced. Tosh disappeared under a tide of redcaps once more. Rierdan shot Skip a hurried, withering look. "Leave now, we will delay him. Neither side can win this fight, even he knows that." Rierdan then jumped into the fray himself. John stood dumbfounded momentarily. Such a screaming ball of violence and blood as this was going on in a working class neighborhood, and no one bothered to even look out their windows. Many said there was a curtain of silence up on the hill. John thought it was more like a curtain of willful ignorance. John was jerked out of his musings very forcefully as Skip dragged him along at a run. Skip and John turned and ran back towards the city. ----- Ender sat in his triangular electronic womb, eyes flitting from screen to screen. He had narrowed his field of possibilities down considerably in just the first hour. Out of 238 possibilities, 200 had been eliminated due to age or credit activity. Of these 38, 4 had credit activity in the last 24 hours within 5 miles of Charlestown. The world just keeps on shrinking he thought with a crooked grin. He was busy reviewing the grainy black and white, though nicely in focus and in color on two occasions so far, video surveillance from the shopping areas in question. It was one of the most tedious of tasks, but so was panning for gold he thought to himself as his eyes danced from screen to screen analyzing each pixel. He was so engrossed that the sudden beep in his ear bud startled him slightly. Only two people could contact him this way. Neither was a good prospect. Ender turned to the screen at his back and verified the caller's protocols. It was indeed his superior, Scilus. Ender took a deep breath and clicked a button on that computer's keyboard. The image on an emaciated slightly past middle-aged man appeared on screen. "Your data streams have been highly active and oddly specific." There was no offer of greeting or pretense of friendly speech from Scilus's visage or voice. "Yes sir, you are correct." Ender said. He thought it best to keep things on as neutral a basis as possible. "I know I am. I do not need you to tell me what I know, I need you to stop hiding what you think I do not know from me." came Scilus's response. The accusation was clear and would not be denied. "Forgive my enthusiasm sir. I received some information this evening and in my haste to follow it, I failed to keep you informed, though I would never hide my activities sir." Ender said, once again without the sarcasm he so righteously felt like inflecting. "Had you bothered with the proper protocol you would have received this report from our MIT satellite. It seems they responded to an incursion by that meddlesome Skip. He was in a cab that just so happens to have been driven by a man sharing the name that you have been researching on your own." He said flatly. Ender flipped through the file and footage that had been delivered to his screen. He crosschecked John Donnelly against hansom permits for the metro area. There was only one. Within milliseconds addresses, tax information, university records, medical records, everything that was available from a connected data source started to fill the third computer monitor. "You once again show me the error of my ways in the most succinct manner sir." Ender said. "Yes, of course. You will be interested to see that they eluded our agents handily. Is there anything else of interest with this cab driver?" Ender thought for a moment. His conversation with the diviner was logged automatically, but he knew Scilus would not have had an opportunity to review those communications. He could not just delete the conversation either, since that would be detected. He was stuck and would have to tell the truth, "He had contact with Lady Luck, sir,” Ender paused considering how to phrase the next part. "I have an 'unconfirmed' report that the Lady is with child." The barest ripple of emotion showed on the video screen with Scilus on in. This was not good at all. "I expect no further failures or breaches in protocol in the matter henceforth, else the consequences will be even worse than what is already due." The transmission ended abruptly as the servers in the next room started humming. Ender turned back to learn everything that was John Donnelly. Chapter 4 Skip and John approached the locks. Ever since 9/11 video surveillance had gone up everywhere there was a publicly known infrastructure choke point, and so there atop an aluminum pole sat this age's electronic watchdog, watching as boats passed from the harbor to the Charles river, and vice versa; as well as all the foot traffic that crossed the river here. Skip eyed the camera nervously. He pulled John back out of its panning radius. "Used to be all you had to worry about in the old days was crows and ravens. And trees. Oh and toads and rats too. Sometimes wolves." Skip trailed off lost in his thoughts for a moment. "Anyways, so you got it clear, these technomancers are sneaky sorts, they can have their eye anywheres there's one of them," he said as he hooked a thumb towards the camera. John looked at the camera sitting idly panning back and forth in tedious routine. Just then a thought occurred to John. If these technomancers could stall cars and usurp video feeds, what else could they do? "What's up with these technomancers and why are you so afraid of them," he asked. Skip opened his mouth to respond, but ended up singing the chorus to Ball of Confusion for a few seconds. "I'm sure I'm not the one to be tellin' ya if you want to really understand, besides it a boring tale in the tellin'. Now cover yer face so we can shake a leg. There's a nasty vampire after us, well actually he's only after you, and there plenty of hours left 'til sunrise." John hadn't realized just how many cameras you encountered in a day until he actually had a reason to not show up on them. The entered the north station subway and John scanned through the turnstile for the green line while Skip deftly slipped through right behind him. The inbound platform was fairly busy at this time of night and John looked from face to face, searching for any hint of recognition or danger, anything out of the ordinary. John couldn't have stuck out any more if he had tried. He had his shoulder hunched and his face down, looking out at everyone sideways from under his brows. "Hey mister paranoid," Skip whispered as loudly as possible. "Yer not gonna do us any good if you act like some kind of cheap detective novel guy." Skip began singly Paperback Writer to himself. The two of them made something of a scene actually. Luckily this was Boston, and just like any other major city, people were used to such oddities and generally tried to avoid direct eye contact with such people. Before long a slight whooshing of air with an earthy and ashen tinge to it swept the platform. The experienced commuters all turned anticipating the subway's arrival. Skip too a deep breath. "Reminds me of dragon's breath if you ask me," he said almost under his breath. They got on the train without any trouble. Skip seemed to relax as soon as they started the jostling screeching ride started. Within minutes they emerged from the Park Street station, just a few hundred yards from where this whole mess had started. John looked back across the common towards the botanical gardens for just a second. When he looked back Skip was jousting with traffic. After extricating Skip from his self made traffic snarl, they went down a couple alleys and made there way up Commerce Street they passed the Downtown Crossing subway entrance. "It's quicker to walk here than to switch trains and ride one more stop," Skip explained. Skip stopped without notice and turned about surveying the entire area. "Where are we going?" John asked. "Shhhh, I'm seein' who's about before we hop on," a mad grin sprung to Skip's face, "Stop, you must not hop on pop!" Skip doubled over, laughing at his own supposed cleverness. It was seriously wearing thin on John right now though. Skip must have sensed this because he abruptly stopped and started forward again. They came to a stop in front of a plaque on the ground. It marked this place as the hub of the universe. During the day you would find tourists stopping here occasionally, but tonight there were only busy shoppers and diners walking past, few gave the plaque a second thought. Skip approached almost reverently. "So where are we going?" John repeated. Skip didn't answer. Instead he pushed John onto the plaque. John felt a popping in his ears and pressure on his eyes as the world swam out of site. He stood on a royal purple plain, devoid of any features. The sky or ceiling, John couldn't be sure which, was a darker, almost black, shade of purple. John felt so alone in this vast nothingness, that is until Skip tumbled into him from out of nowhere. "Sometimes the answer is right in front of you. All you had to do was read the plaque." Skip explained. "You folks tend to put so much importance on the middle, the center... you know stuck in the middle with you and all. Well, we're at the hub, and it's kinda boring. It's a lot of things, but most think it's just some kinda old folks home for Abstracts that are retired or ignored, which is kinda the same thing if you think about it for them. Anyways, since you still seem to have your mind intact, there was a chance that this would have flipped your biscuit there champ, well done! Anyways, we can work our way out and try to find someone who can help us find Lady Luck." ----- The room was quiet save for the incessant humming. Ender was still in his sanctuary of silicon as he thought of it sometimes. He reviewed the information he had so far. He had everything: birth date, social security number, bank account information, credit history, immunization record, current and former addresses, mother's and father's (deceased) names, medical and dental records, high school transcripts, college transcripts, selective service information, even his movie rental history. Ender knew everything that put John on the grid. Had he wanted to, Ender could have erased John's existence. That would undermine his mission however. For now it was easier to use this information to track his movements. Within minutes of receiving all this information, Ender had contacted Scilus to keep him informed. That is when he learned that he would be receiving assistance with this assignment. So he stood now waiting for Scilus's specialist to arrive. A beeping from one of the computer's alerted him that he had a visitor. The card swipe at the door matched the encryption signature. No one but those Ender or his superiors authorized were allowed entry. Ender looked up as the door opened and the huge figure stepped in. Standing in the containment square just inside the room, Ender realized just how messy an assignment this might become. This was no technical specialist - this was a tactical specialist. He stood easy in the mid six-foot range and was built like an NFL linebacker. The scanner detected numerous cybernetic implants as well as numerous small arms and personal weapons. 7N B-10 was what the scan of his dermal identical implant indicated as his identification. He turned to Ender with a smile that could have been charming, but just came across as cold. "Greetings Ender, I am Steven Beaten and I will be assisting in this operation," he said as he crossed to room in two strides. He pulled one end of a data cable from out of his leather jacket and looked questioningly at Ender. Ender pointed to a jack and Steven plugged himself in, within a few seconds he had all the pertinent information for their target downloaded and memorized. "I will investigate the target's residence while you continue your work here. I also am to deliver you this," he pulled a small disk out of his pocket as he stowed the jack away. "It contains research on vampire reproduction capabilities. You are not to save this, nor are you to view it on any connected system. The information will corrode from the disk in less than 8 minutes." Ender considered the possibilities. Did the hierarchy truly think vampires capable of reproduction? Obviously they must. It would follow then that if vampires could reproduce and Lady Luck was indeed pregnant, then this offspring could potentially be from Tosh. That would definitely be enough motivate them to bring such a tactical unit such as Beaten here into the mission. Suddenly he realized how many above him would be watching his every move now. "Seven minutes now," Steven said as he turned to leave. Ender then looked down to see a camera feed had activated on one of his monitors. He could see two men were crossing the locks from Charlestown into Boston. "Good Luck then, see you soon." Ender said. ----- Tosh dragged himself up out of the water on the Chelsea side of the river. He had been forced to retreat. He blind rage had led him inot a situation that he alone could not overcome. He didn't feel too bad, he still stood. At least two of the redcaps had not survived and a couple more would likely never fully recover from their injuries. That damned Rierdan though was alive and kicking. He would pay someday, after he found Siobhan though. Tosh wasn't sure what to do now. The two fools had escaped for the time being and he was left right back where he started. Tosh needed to heal himself first though, and that would require blood, so he hunted. No one would miss a few drug dealing thugs here in Chelsea. Tosh watched them for a couple hours. Cars would pull up, one would talk to the driver and then signal the second who would then bring over the drugs from his hiding spot in the alley. The alley rat would be first. Tosh may look like a fleshed out version of a Mack truck, but he was just as stealthy as most vampires. He dropped from the roof he was on, to an ajoining roof. There he sprinted across the corrugated tin roof making less noise than the night breeze. He leapt across the gap onto the side a brick building, scrambling up the side in a matter of seconds. What Tosh lacked in charm and beguiling, he more than made up for in physical prowess. He moved like a shadow across rooftops until he looked down into the druggy's alley. The lookouts would never see anything, they were trained on the street looking for cops. Tosh sniffed about for a moment. Satisfied with the situation, he dropped from the roof down onto the drug runner in the alley silent as a shadow, but much more deadly. Tosh discovered that the little punk had been a user as well as a seller as the cocaine laden blood entered him. He never really needed much of an excuse to become violent, but now he needed none. Fueled by narcotics, Tosh burst from the alley, his thoughts of ambush clouded by the drugs that fueled his rage. He crossed the street and hit second drug dealer before the lookouts could even raise a warning. Tosh ripped the man off his bike and drug him by his neck though a side street and up a fire escape to another run-down building's rooftop. The drug dealer pulled a berretta out of his waistband, but Tosh grabbed the barrel in one hand and put a crushing slight bend in the barrel. He ripped the man head from his shoulders with a savage backhand and drank from his neck like a fountain. When he had finish Tosh discarded the death body like a shcuked corn husk. They deserved what they had gotten, but Siobhan would have disapproved viciousness of their treatment. She cared about humane treatments and all that garbage Tosh remembered. An unfamiliar feeling came to him - doubt. Siobhan had turned his life upside down. He had never doubted a thing in his life, but now he was full of them. Tosh decided to head back home. Maybe she had come back. Hailing a cab when covered in blood is not as hard as one would think. ---- Tosh sniffed. Cabs had so many cloying layers of scents, most of them were unpleasant. This cab had a scent that struck a memory in Tosh however. It was harsh like ozone, only mixed with licorish. It was faint, hours old. Most humans would miss it, but a predator like Tosh stored away such useful information. Faster than the driver could turn to see what the noise was, Tosh had ripped out the money slot in the plexiglas barrier and shot his arm through, grabbing the poor driver by the throat. His fingers clenched over the man's windpipe threateneing to crush it in his steely grasp "You had a passenger this afternoon, a shorter man with wild hair. He talks and fidgets a lot." Tosh said. The cabby was struggling against Tosh as well as struggling to control the cab. "I, I just came on at seven. It's not even my normal cab. Take the money, just don't hurt me. Take the money, I wont tell anyone," he said. Tosh thought for a minute, enjoying the feel on the man's pulse in his hand. "Who had this cab before?" "I don't... I'm not sure. It's not my," he trailed off with a squeak as Tosh pulled him back against the glass. "Find out, now." Tosh growled. The cabby contacted his dispatch and bluffed them into giving him the home address of driver 157, John Donnelly. Tosh grinned as the voice on the radio finished speaking. "Take me there now," Tosh said as he removed his hand from the driver's throat and stuffed a huge wad of the drug dealer's bloody twenty dollar bills through the wrecked divider. ---- A block off of Kenmore square, Tosh got out of the cab, which sped off almost before Tosh was completely out. He looked around for signs of danger. The street lights were all on, shining down in their yellow sulfuric glow. They were beacons teaming with flying insects. A few people were on the street, a trio of young men heading for a night out, an elderly woman shuffling home and a couple walking hand in hand. Tosh clenched his fists tight the sight of them. He fixed his sight straight ahead at the building where John Donnelly lived. He uttered and ancient nordic curse and went through the front doors, almost literally. Taking the steps two at a time, Tosh bounded up the three flights in no time. His unnatural speed and silence frightened a young coed hauling her laundry out. Tosh didn't notice and didn't care. He was in predator mode and was in search of only one thing. He came around the corner at the top and looked for the apartment number. Half way down the hall he saw it. No simple door was going to stop him now. He charged down the hall and burst through the door, knocking it from it's hinges. Tosh was standing in a kitchen area and could see the living room straight ahead. The lights in both were off. A hallway led off in either direction. There were items and clothing scattered everywhere you looked. Either this guy was a pig or someone had ransacked this apartment. Tosh gave a deep sniff with a confused look around. If this man was a norm, why did his apartment reek of technomancy. He was just putting the pieces together when a huge man in a leather coat charged him from the hallway on the left. Tosh saw him just before he lauched himself at the vampire. The taller man was sent flying as the shorter scrappier Tosh used the man's momentum against him. A cyborg, Tosh assumed by the smell and sound of him as he flew past. The cyborg crashed into the cabinets on the right side of the kitchen making a huge clattering of pots and pans as the cabinets collapsed. The cyborg had to take a second to extract himself from the mess. Tosh broke and headed back down the hall that the cyborg had come out of. As he got to the end he felt two sharp stings in his shoulderblade. Tosh was no stranger to fighting off vampire hunters and was not about to get tazed. The vampire launched into a spin that would make any ballerina or figure skater jealous. The darts had not penitrated his skin, only his jacket, so the first shock was fairly mild. As he pulled the wires taught he brought his arms out, snapping the wires that wrapped him as well as the wires cnection to the tazer. "This is a fortunate concellation. Scilus will be pleased." said Steven Beaten Rage fueled Tosh as his eyes erupted in violent crimson light. He charged back up the hall at the cyborg. Tosh completed the fient as he went into a roll just before contacting Steven. Steven however was conditioned to rapidly adapt to his opponent's tactics, and it was clear that the vampire (as his heat signature suggested) was adept at fighting using balance and momentum as much as ferocity and rage. As the vampire rolled into him, Steven sidestepped and delivered a crushing blow to the vampire's spine. Tosh spasmed for a second as he lost control of his extremities and slid into the kitchen table on the other side of the kitchen, destroying it. A normal man would likely be paralyzed for life by such a blow, but his rage fueled vampire metabolism was already repairing the damage. He lay still for a moment in the table's debris as the cyborg approached. "It would be unwise to resist further." Steven said. He stepped over towards Tosh as though to grab him by the scruff of the neck. Tosh struck like a coiled snake, grabbing the cyborg's wrist and twisting into his body, pulling the cyborg off balance and underneath him. Steven brought a knee up into Tosh's ribcage as the two rolled, creating the slimist of openings. Steven exploited this opening by twisting free of the vampire's grasp. They both got to their feet and circled each other in the middle of the kitchen. The cyborg knew it was pointless fighting hand to hand with the vampire, he was more agile and scrappier in that scenario. Range was Steven's advantage. He feinted towards Tosh, but instead pulled both of his firearms. Two little pinpoints of red danced across Tosh's chest. Tosh had faced many hunter's over the centuries. He honed in on his opponents body position waiting for the slight reaction that would tell him when he meant to pull the trigger. Time seemed to stretch out. Steven's hands tilted inward just slightly as he started to let out a long and even breath. Tosh let his legs go limp and started to drop like a ragdoll, trying to dive under the path of the bullets. Against most people, this would have worked well. The first bullet passed just over Tosh's shoulder. Steven however had only fired the right pistol, wanting to save his second shot to react to whatever Tosh may have had in mind. He squeezed the trigger in expectation of where Tosh would be after he dropped. Just as that biullet left the barrel, Tosh heard the first bullet as it tore into the gas stove that Tosh had intentionally positioned himself in front of. As Tosh hit the floor the second bullet ripped into him, shattering his collarbone and burrowing into his chest. Steven prepared to fire again. Tosh knew he was running out of options, but then he could smell the gas now. He flipped his zippo out of his pocket and flashed a wicked grin at the cyborg. As Steven started firing at Tosh, Tosh lit the zippo and flicked it behind him. Both bullets hit the vampire this time just as the stove exploded. Tosh, bieng low to the floor did not catch much of the force of the explosion, though he did become enveloped in flame. Steven however had just enough time for his eyes to widen at the nihlistic responce from this vampire as the full force of the blow threw him across the room and through the kitchen wall into the bedroom beyond. Time seemed to catch up with them then. Tosh flopped wildly on the floor. Flames and vampires don't mix well, but his leather coat and protected him from the worst of it. His legs however were a charred mess. He had also lost the use of the arm with the broken collar bone. He struggled to pull himself from the wreckage before it became an inferno, pulling himself across the floor. Something in those bullets was affecting his ability to heal though. Just then a crashing sound came from the bedroom. Tosh scrabbled as fast as he could but he heard the footsteps coming down the hallway off of the kitchen. Steven holstered his pistols. He picked up a charred leg of the table. Tosh flipped around onto his back in a futile attempt to fight him off with one good arm. Tosh looked at the damage he had done to the cyborg. "Fuckin terminator asshole." he said in defiance. There wasn't much that Tosh could do though. As his world went black from being impaled on the improvised stake he sighed, "Siobhan." Chapter 5 John and Skip had been walking for hours in a random direction. (It seemed that way to John at least; although it may have been only about five minutes.) The ground gradually became soft, like a wet sponge, minus the squishing sounds. Then in the distance they could see a woman sitting on the ground. As they drew closer they could see that she was of indeterminate age. She had almond shaped eyes and coffee au late skin. Her raven black hair was pulled straight back into a tight bun. She reminded John of those Indian portraits to the many-armed women, except she had a normal two arms. She looked up at them as they approached. "You are late," she said. "Everyone is late as far as you are concerned Milady," Skip said in his best attempt at a serious tone. "I suppose, but it is still true. He looks familiar," she said looking towards John. "A coincidence I'm sure," Skip said. "Perhaps. You may make one request as is our custom." "We, err I mean he, is seeking the current Lady Luck." The woman looked at John in earnest, looked into him and through him. She calmly breathed in and out deeply for many minutes. John started to get antsy, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Finally he had reached the limit of his patience and turned to ask Skip a question. Before he could even form words Skip had clamped his hand over John's mouth. A fierce look was in Skip's eye for just a second until it was replaced with a mischievous twinkle. John turned to the woman who was watching the exchange between the two men, then her eyes started to flutter. "The scion is indeed the quester in this matter. His loyal squire will continue to offer his help. They will be joined by other knights in this. The green knight and the white templar have yet to take the field. These four points of light are incomplete however, for without darkness there is no light. The Norse barbarian will need to be brought into the fold. His darkness and his rage will be a great asset to the party, though the fellowship will be tenuous at best. The quarry will slip through the party's hand at the end however to reveal the truest of goals." Her eyes rolled back forward from the back of her head as she finished. "What in the hell is she talking about?" John said as Skip released him. She gave John a look of irritation. "One query is all I can help with. I wish you both the best in your quest. I have longed to meet you both. I know your fathers would be proud." She said as she dismissed them from her presence. Immediately the ground became even less firm. John and Skip began sinking slowly, like men in quicksand. John began to panic and flail about while Skip just plugged his nose and waved goodbye to the woman. Within seconds the ground of this place had swallowed them. Instead of being smothered once he was fully submerged as he suspected, John found himself standing just west of Kenmore Square. The sky over Fenway was starting to brighten, which meant it was going on morning. Skip was there with him as well. John realized that they were only a few blocks from his apartment and he was bone tired all of a sudden. "I think I am going to go get some rest Skip. It's been a long day and night it looks like. I've had enough for one day." "Rest would be good." "Come on, I can at least offer you a cup of coffee. I don't suppose you'll tell me who that was or what that bit about our fathers was will you?" John said. "Umm, my dad is a matter for another time. That was Lady Future. She used to be Lady Luck 'til she found this replacement, you know promotions and all, can't move up until you have someone to take over yer position." It made no sense to John, but then again, nothing much that day had. He just kept putting one foot in front of another until his saw his building. All he had was a crappy one bedroom, but between the meager stipend from his dad's life insurance and the lousy paycheck and tips he got, it was all he could afford, especially in this market. They climbed the stairs to the third floor and rounded the corner. John was looking down searching for his door key and wondering just what that terrible creasote smell was when he noticed that Skip had stopped walking. John looked back at him and then followed Skip's gaze. There was a door that had obviously been battered in and then propped back into place. Crime scene tape cordoned off the area. John rushed forward and pushed the door in. It fell inward with a dull thud. Inside his apartment was a charred mess. What was left of his belongings lay scattered about, water logged and charcoal stained. John slumped to the floor. What else could go wrong he thought. ----