# First Sight: A d20 Modern Story Hour (Updated 01-03-2008)



## Jodo Kast (Sep 25, 2002)

_There is something in the wind tonight
Some kind of change in the weather
Somewhere some devil's mixing fire and ice together
I got a feeling that the dark side of the moon
is on the rise
Black as a crow's feather._
                              -  Jimmy Buffett, _Savannah Fare Thee Well_

Strobe light cut through chill night, illuminating snowfall in shades of crimson and azure.  Gabriel Ansgar was adrift in a sea of white, red and blue.  Faces swam by like specters in a dream, uniformed officers Gabe recognized but whose names he could not conjure.  A visage floated into view before him, the pallid countenance of a young officer.  Gabe heard his own name, slow and distorted as if spoken underwater.  The officer’s mouth continued to move, but Gabe could discern nothing further.  Dazed, he backed away from the officer until his hand swept across something like a spider’s web.  He whirled, too fast, and lost his footing on the rime.  He collapsed in a pile of tangled limbs and bright yellow crime scene tape.

“Gabe?  You okay?”

Gabe looked up, feeling quite foolish.  The fall had shaken him alert from his waking dream.  He was at a crime scene.  A handful of officers gathered there, just outside the ring of police tape which entangled Gabe.  They watched him, quiet, expressionless.  Their blank faces unnerved Gabe, and he felt himself starting to slide into the dream.  A hand thrust out in front of him snatched him back.  The proffered hand and gravelly voice belonged to Jack Casey, a rangy detective with close-cropped white hair.  Gabe shook his head clear, took Casey’s hand and scrabbled to his feet, almost slipping again.

“Jesus, Gabe, what’s got into you?”

“Nothing, Jack,” Gabe muttered.  “Déjà vu.  Hell, it’s two in the flipping a.m.  I was asleep when I got the call.”

Gabe Ansgar was a balding, square-jawed forensic investigator in his early thirties.  In his twelve years on the force he had developed a reputation for finding that elusive piece of evidence that would lay bare a crime’s hidden tale.

“Well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  

“You don’t look so hot yourself, Jack.  What have we got?”

Jack Casey did not respond, his mouth still drawn in a tight line.  He merely motioned Gabe past him and toward the dilapidated row house fenced in by yellow tape and emergency vehicles.  Gabe noticed that none of the uniformed officers moved inside the circle of tape.  Normally he would be pleased.  No cops crawling over the scene, no arrogant detectives, no rubbernecking rookies, all trampling evidence and generally making his job that much harder.  Tonight, though, their trepidation unnerved him.

Gabe shoved his hands into his overcoat pockets, reaching for the single-packed nitrile exam gloves he had placed there earlier.  Donning the gloves, he moved up the steps and across the open threshold into the dwelling.  Jack remained on the porch.  Gabe was alone.  

The odor assailed him even before he had fully entered, a noxious mingling of blood, body fluids, and burnt hair and flesh.  Nothing seemed out of place in the entry hall.  A man’s coat hung on a hook near the door, above two pairs of plain leather shoes.  A round table stood near the door.  A set of keys lie in the small pool of light shed by the lamp on the table.  Aside from the smell, all rather ordinary.

Light streamed through a doorway ahead, what appeared to be a living room.  Gabe stepped through the opening into a scene out of some lunatic nightmare.  Most of the furniture in the room was smashed.  Everything was covered in a sticky, glistening film, some a sickly yellow color, some the ochre of blood.  Here and there bits of flesh adhered to the walls, floor, furniture, but rarely a piece larger than a square inch.  In the center of the room the rug had been rolled back to reveal the wooden floor beneath.  Gabe could make out a vague symmetrical pattern on the floor, but heavy scorching obscured the details.  The flashing lights of emergency vehicles played across the walls, courtesy of two front windows that opened onto the street.

Gabe stood there for what might have been seconds or long minutes, absorbing every detail of the room.  The tall wrought-iron lamp lying bent and twisted in the corner.  The slow ticking of the wall clock that lay miraculously intact just inside the door.  The pages of a novel strewn about like snow.  The white lace curtains, clean and untouched.  The faint scuffmarks on the floor going past him out of the room and leading to the stairs down the hall from the entry.  The human tooth embedded in the doorjamb beside him.  The tooth’s silver filling.  The minute cracks in the wood grain splintering away from the tooth.  

The red-and-blue lights chasing one another on the wall slowed and flowed dreamily together, and the room was bathed in the soft light of a wrought-iron lamp standing in the corner.  A man moved past Gabe into the room.  Middle-aged, slightly stooped, he wore a cardigan sweater and carried an ornately carved, lidded bowl.  The room’s furnishings were not destroyed, but strewn around the periphery as if recently pushed aside.  There was no odor other than the musty smell of old house.  The walls were immaculately clean, and a clock quietly ticked away on the wall beside the door.  

The middle-aged man placed the bowl carefully on the floor in the center of the room and uncovered it.  A foul smelling brown liquid sloshed gently from side to side as he adjusted the bowl’s position.  From a sweater pocket the man produced a polished wooden stick, as thick as a man’s finger and over a foot long.  With exaggerated care the man dipped the stylus into the bowl and began to trace lines on the floor.  First a circle with a radius closely matching the length of the stick, then a series of straight lines forming a five-pointed star.  Along each of the lines he made smaller marks, strange curviform lines and fluid glyphs.  

Finally the man stepped away from the intricate design on the floor and absently wiped away the glistening sweat from his forehead.  He casually tossed aside the stylus and withdrew a book of matches from his pocket.  With trembling fingers he struck the match and dropped it, his eyes wide as they followed its end-over-end tumble into the bowl.  The brown liquid in the bowl immediately ignited.  Tendrils of flame traced liquid trails down the sides of the bowl to the figures drawn upon the floor.  The arcane marks danced with a light of their own.  The man’s face waxed from ecstatic to terrified.  He stepped grudgingly closer to the flames as if a hand were upon his back, thrusting him forth.  He began chanting in a reluctant, barely audible voice.

“Cru na veas nor.”  The man repeated the mantra over and over in an unbroken litany, gradually building in volume and intensity.  Defying physics, the flames tracing the symbols on the floor rose in height, straight and narrow sheets of white light projecting the glyphs, runes and lines onto the ceiling above.  The man’s face glowed with maniacal glee.  He moved closer still to the flames.  With arms outstretched he took the final step into the sheets of flame.

A blinding flash of light sent Gabe’s arm flying to cover his eyes, not quickly enough.  He heard a sound like a wet napkin slapping against a tile floor and the horrible smell of burnt flesh and blood returned.  Gabe lowered his arm and blinked away the bright spots dancing before his eyes.  As his vision cleared he saw something masked by the flames, something that stood like a man and yet was not.  Two burning yellow eyes stared back at him.

Gabe stumbled back, his eyes squeezed shut.  When he opened them, the room appeared exactly as it had when he first arrived.  He was sweating despite the January cold, his breathing ragged.  Chill fingers played down his spine and Gabe spilled forward to one knee.  His eyes were again drawn to those faint scuffmarks leading to the stairs.

© 2002 Austin Hale


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## Horacio (Sep 25, 2002)

Hey, tell us more details!

It's an adventure? A campaign? What rules are you using?


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## Fade (Sep 25, 2002)

Sounds like CoC.

We desire updates.........


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## Jodo Kast (Sep 25, 2002)

Horacio, this is a solo game between myself and Lamprolign (Gabe Ansgar here and Krunk in _Jodo Kast Does The Adventure Path_).  The basis of the campaign was Lamprolign's idea.  I outlined a story arc and threw Lampy into the fire.  Lamprolign is doing the bulk of the writing, with me editing, polishing and posting the finished material.


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## Lamprolign (Oct 2, 2002)

_I seem to recognize your face, 
Haunting familiar yet I can’t seem to place it._ 

- Pearl Jam, _Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town Store_

Gabe stood silently, mouth agape.  He had never hallucinated before.  It had been a hallucination, of course.  Just something brought on by the stench of the scene, lack of sleep, and bad Chinese take-out.  There was really no other explanation.

His eyes traced the path of the faint scuffs etched in the hardwood floor of the hallway from the threshold of the devastation to the staircase.  “Where are the boys in blue?” Gabe wondered aloud.  They should have been mucking around all over the place, despoiling evidence, scratching their asses.  Not this time.   

“Uch, what a mess.”  

Gabe whirled at the sound of the voice, his hands clenched into fists.  Jack Casey often admonished him to carry a sidearm, and in that instant Gabe wished he had listened.

“Whoa there, Raging Bull!  Take it down a thousand.”  Chris Ebbing grinned and snapped Gabe’s picture with his 35mm.  The big flash blinded Gabe momentarily and left little lights to linger in his eyes.  “Just me, your friendly neighborhood crime scene photographer.” 

Gabe dropped his fists self-consciously.  Chris was several years younger than Gabe, in his mid twenties, tall and lanky with straight black hair.  High cheekbones hinted at some Native American heritage.  

“Yeah.”  Gabe calmed slightly now that he had company.  “Where the hell is everyone else?”

“On the way,” Chris answered.  “Why are all the fuzz hanging outside?”

“Just wait here.”  Gabe turned toward the shadowed staircase.

Chris’s brow furrowed, but he made no move to follow.  When Gabe was on the scent you stood back and watched him track.     

Gabe paused at the first step.  As with the entrance to the house, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  Only the one room belied the event that had transpired here.  The scuffs on the floor did not continue up the stairs.  In the dim light, the pale brown strip of carpeting on the center of the stairs appeared well worn but without obvious marks.  Gabe looked back to the marks on the floor, then up the staircase.  He edged his way up.  Gabe was halfway up the stairs when the pungent odor vanished, replaced by a familiar mustiness.  Shadows coalesced, forming two figures at the top of the stairs.

“NO!  We can’t do this on our own!  This is too much for me to do alone!  Please … wait until the Sister arrives, please!”  A girl, not more than a teenager implored the man in the cardigan sweater.  A trace of recognition flickered through Gabe’s mind only to be cast back into shadow.

“He’s asleep now.  I won’t let him wake again, not after what he’s done.”  The timid middle-aged man in the cardigan sweater stared at the girl with haunted eyes.  “We have to do it now!”  He turned towards the stairs.

Anticipating the man’s path, Gabe’s eyes stopped on a picture on the wall directly ahead and above him: a watercolor beach scene, very tranquil, waves crashing against a white beach where a thick grove of coconut palms waved in a tropical breeze.  On a small table beneath this picture rested the carved bowl and polished wooden stylus. He looked from the bowl to the man in the cardigan.  The eyes glowed a malignant yellow he had seen before.

Growling, the man spun.  He seemed larger now, menacing.  Deep guttural noises rumbled in his chest, sounds something like tortured words.  He took a step toward the girl, body tensed like a lion ready to spring.  

There was a cold determination in the girl’s blue eyes that chilled Gabe more than the man’s transformation.  She clapped her hands together before her, evoking a wind that coursed through the narrow hallway, causing her snowy hair to writhe as if alive.  The hem of her long black coat whipped violently about.  She uttered a low keening wail that rose in pitch and volume, intensifying the phantom wind.  

The man hesitated; he shook for a moment, grasping his head between both hands.  A roar that shook Gabe to his core erupted from the man’s throat.  He pounced at the girl with bestial vigor.  A high clear note pierced Gabe’s head, dropping him to his knees.  A bright pure light dazzled Gabe, followed by a carnal howl.  

Two dull thuds on the wooden floor and the light was extinguished.  Gabe saw the man slowly rising to his knees.  Beyond him, the girl lay crumpled at the end of the hall.  White drapes danced above her in the last gasps of the dying wind.  

The demoniacal beast was gone.  In its stead, the timorous middle-aged man knelt in the hall, swaying from side to side, grasping his head.  His eyes fixed on the girl’s prone form beneath the window.  Gabe watched, half sprawled on the uppermost steps.  

“Oh no.”  The little man struggled to his feet and staggered to her.  He extended a shaking hand and laid it on the side of her throat.  A deep sigh of relief bowed his shoulders.  He rose, his face was a mask of grim resolve.  He retrieved the bowl and stylus and plodded down the stairs, taking no note of Gabe as he passed.

Gabe looked up into the darkened hallway.  Shadows cast by the light in the entryway below played devilish tricks on Gabe’s senses.  The icy claw grasping his spine threatened to rip it out, leaving him helpless on the floor.  His mind railed against everything he had experienced and he squeezed his eyes shut in disbelief.  A very small rustling sound at the end of the hall caught his attention.  It took both hands on the stair railing for Gabe to stand.  Legs threatening to buckle at any moment, Gabe moved slowly into the second floor hallway, toward the noise….

© 2002  Austin Hale


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## Horacio (Oct 2, 2002)




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## Lamprolign (Oct 9, 2002)

_A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life
Somewhere a queen is weeping
Somewhere a king has no wife
And the wind cries Mary_
- Jimmy Hendrix, _The Wind Cries Mary_

Gabe moved forward on unsteady feet.  Ahead in the gloom ghostly white drapes obscured the view of the house next door.  No trace of blue or red emergency light illuminated the gossamer cloth.  Closed doors stood opposite one another where the hallway met the window.  A small table lay smashed, a lamp on the floor with its shade some feet away.  

On the floor, beneath the window rested a motionless form.  An almost imperceptible groan broke the silence.  Gabe moved forward cautiously and knelt beside the body.  He saw the face of the young woman, perhaps no more than a teenager.  Her delicate features were drawn into an unconscious grimace.  Her breath came ragged and uneven.  An ugly welt traced the line of her cheekbone.  Gabe extended a wary hand ...       

Her eyes snapped open, watery blue orbs filled with fear.  Gabe felt himself slipping beneath the surface of those eyes.  As if submerged in the depths of a still pond, Gabe heard a distant voice, low at first, then building in volume and intensity: “_Crú na veas nor._”  Gabe was as a statue frozen in a tableau with this dying girl.   The world dissolved but for the blue eyes, shining like reflecting pools.  He was drowning in those eyes…  

Images flashed though his mind, too fast to comprehend, yet every detail was seared into his memory. 

A small, towheaded girl trips over an extended foot while running to the bus.  Knees bleeding, she looks at the larger child gloating over his cruel prank.  For no apparent reason he falls to the ground, pushed by an unseen hand…

The girl, older now, sitting in a small kitchen.  Sunlight streams through a calico curtained window overlooking steep wooded mountainsides.  A plate flanked by a spoon and fork slowly spins through the air.  An unseen woman’s voice rises in delight… 

Older still, grasping a duffle bag and gazing out the large windows of the L-train at the looming skyline.  Old warehouses and tenements surrounded by chain link and razor wire pass below…  

A young woman now, standing in a dim hallway directly before a man in a cardigan.  A man in the midst of an unholy metamorphosis.  He growls and leaps.  She feels the power burning through her, a bright flash of light chased by perfect darkness…

Gabe wrenched himself away from those cold blue eyes, overbalanced and fell.  He lie there, staring without sight at the ceiling.  The images faded slowly.  The floor was hard and cold beneath him.  He slowly sat up, rose to one knee and turned toward the girl.  

The musty odor was gone, replaced again by the sanguinolent smell from below.  Gabe stared at the spot where she had lain.  The girl was gone, in her stead a disposable CPR mask, wrappers from sterile packed EKG electrodes, shiny plastic and white paper, all strewn about as debris from a maelstrom.  He cupped his head in his hands and rocked slowly, struggling with the flood of images that threatened to inundate him.  He couldn’t be sure what was real and what was imagined.  His rational mind flailed about for a reasonable explanation, a beacon in a storm of lunacy.  

Instead of a beacon, Gabe saw flashing lights.  He was driving to the scene again.  

He drove his own car, coming straight from the small house he rented in Rosemont, a suburb about thirty minutes from downtown Chicago.  U2 came on the radio, and Gabe cranked the volume.  Bono was singing, “The city’s aflood, and our love turns to rust … we’re being blown by the wind, trampled in dust.”  The clock display read 3:00 a.m., which meant it was 2:00.  Gabe never bothered to fall back.  The clock would only have to be reset in the spring, after all. 

Gabe parked behind a squad car.  He shielded his eyes from the visual cacophony of red and blue lights.  Gabe noted an ambulance parked near the sidewalk.  The usual crowd of onlookers encircled the fringes, uniformed officers keeping them at a respectable distance.  

“Hey Gabe, what’s shakin’?”  Lamar Willis, a beer-bellied beat cop, waved.

“Me,” Gabe grumbled.  He held out his hand, visibly twitching.  “That’s a Red Bull and two ephedrine.  I was dreaming about that mechanic babe from _Firefly_ when the damn phone rang.  Somebody out sick?”

“No,” said Lamar.  The typically jovial officer seemed subdued.  “I hear Jack Casey asked for you special on this one.  I hear it’s ugly.”    

Gabe pulled a pair of individually wrapped nitrile exam gloves from a box in the front seat of his car, stuffing them in his overcoat pocket.  The digital camera resting beside the gloves disappeared into a coat pocket next.  Irritated by the fact that he had beaten the CSU van to a scene yet again he made his way toward the row house surrounded by yellow tape.  

Paramedics made their way under the tape, obligingly held up by nearby police officers. They pushed a gurney with haste toward the waiting ambulance.  Gabe stood midway between their destination and the line of police tape.  He looked at the gurney as it trundled past.  The victim was a young woman with delicate features framed by platinum hair.  At the instant they passed her head rolled toward Gabe. 

Her eyes opened.  Impossible blue eyes held Gabe’s for barely a moment, and then they were gone. 

Gabe’s vision blurred.  He watched blue and red lights refracting through flowing water on a glass pane.  Sounds that had been clear in the frigid night air were now distorted, slurred.  Dazedly Gabe drifted toward the yellow line of tape, slipping on the rime.  He collapsed in a tangled pile of limbs…

He was on his knees, staring down at the floor in front of the curtained window.  Gabe climbed to his feet. 

“What the hell is going on?”

His head was pounding.  Nothing like this had ever happened before.  He thought about the girl on the gurney.  He wondered if she was all right and reached for his cell phone, meaning to call the hospital…

“_Don’t bother.  I’m dead._”  It was the girl’s voice.

Gabe lurched back against the wall, whipping his head from side to side in search of the voice.  The white drapes stirred, rising in some slight breeze though the window was closed tight.  He caught sight of his reflection in the window, though it wasn’t him at all.  Where his likeness should have appeared was instead the image of a snowy-haired young woman.  Stunned, he just stared, slack jawed and glassy eyed.

“_Jeez, looks like I got stuck with a real winner._”  The irritated voice was not heard, but rather the words seemed to float in Gabe’s mind.  “_I’m Mary._”  The voice paused again, now resigned.  “_This could take awhile to explain._”

© 2002 Austin Hale


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## Mystic (Oct 9, 2002)

Wow!   Tell more...soon!


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## Jodo Kast (Oct 11, 2002)

Nice updates, Lamprolign.  I'm looking forward to the next session ... we left off at an interesting point, it will be fun to see how this develops.


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## cthuluftaghn (Oct 17, 2002)

Sweet!  Needs a bump (and an update) for sure!  This is great, and just a tad more sophisticated than "Why dwarf in hole... Krunk want goblin ear."


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## Lamprolign (Oct 18, 2002)

Yes indeed, Gabe is far different to play than Krunk, hopefully this adventure will serve as a base for a full d20 modern campaign for our group once the rules are out.  I'm hammering session notes into narrative now, I hope to have an update up tomorrow sometime.  As for a bump… well let's just say there are some scrapes in store for Gabe.


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## Lamprolign (Oct 23, 2002)

_Darkness falls and she will take me by the hand,
take me to some twilight land ... 
where all my love is gray, where I can't find my way, 
without her as my guide._ 
- Roy Orbison, _Mystery Girl_

The girl's reflection looked at him from the windowpane.  Her eyes brought to mind St. Elmo's fire that Gabe once saw playing through the rigging of his grandfather's sloop.  

"Gabe?"  Chris Ebbing's voice startled Gabe from his reverie.  "Are you okay man?  I thought I heard you fall."

Gabe turned to look back at the crime scene photographer.  "I'm ... fine.  Do you see anything in the window?"

Chris looked at Gabe quizzically, then peered through the curtained casement.  "Just the house next door.  Should I see something?"

Gabe looked again.  Finding Chris's reflection he looked for his own, but saw only the petite white-haired girl staring back at him.

_"He's not going to see me.  Only you can ... right now anyway." _ Mary's voice drifted in Gabe's mind.  

"How?" Gabe said aloud.

"How what?" Chris said.  His brows were knitted together in concern.  "Are you sure you didn't hit your head or something?  You don't look so good."

Voices from below distracted both men.  A team of three crime scene technicians were making their way into the house.

Gabe turned to Chris.  "Get pictures of the area where the victim was found, there probably won't be much of use since the paramedics removed the body."  He almost managed a normal tone.

"Body?  I thought I heard on the squawk-box that the girl they found was alive."  Chris responded.  

"She was."  Gabe's voice was almost a whisper.  "I need to get started downstairs."  He finished with forced volume.

Gabe turned and proceeded down the stairs.  He did not want to give Chris a chance to ask any more questions.  He must be hallucinating.  He'd never heard of ephedrine causing any neurological side effects like these, but maybe combined with caffeine and sleep-deprivation....  _You don't really believe that horsecrap do you,_ asked a voice in his head, his own this time.

_"I'm not a side-effect. I'm real and we're stuck together."_  The girl again.  The voices in his head were ganging up on him.  _"Look, I can understand you're having a hard time, you're very old for the First Sight.  This really sucks for me too you know.  Least you're not dead."_ 

Gabe stood motionless at the bottom of the stairs.  He rubbed his temples with both hands.  His head was really starting to hurt.  The crime scene technicians were standing just inside the front door, looking to him for orders.  God his head hurt.  He had to keep going.  Routine kicked in.  He latched onto it as a drowning man to a lifeline.

"There are two areas.  One down here."  Gabe gestured toward the living room.  "And one upstairs.  Start with those, but I want the whole house covered."  Gabe's voice was almost level.  

_"I can help you.  If you'll listen."_  Gabe whirled around toward the staircase when the girl's voice once again sounded in his mind.  _"Abrams and I aren't the only ones who kicked the bucket in this hell-hole.  Might want to take another look at those marks on the floor, Mr. Bigshot Detective."_ 

Gabe looked down.  By his foot was one of the marks that had attracted his attention to the staircase.  The world narrowed to only that mark, striated scratches on the hardwood finish.  Like a piece of rough sawn wood with great weight had been dragged across it.  He stopped were the marks met the staircase.  The mark seemed to go under the first step.  He knelt, nose inches from the floor.  The first kickplate of the stairs was ill fitted.  It was not readily apparent from a distance, but unmistakable under close scrutiny.  On any other night Gabe would have seen it immediately.

Gabe stood up and looked back over his shoulder and caught sight of one of the techs, a kid fresh out of college.  Gabe searched his mind for her name.  

"Merrick.  Bring that fingerprint kit over here please."  Gabe hoped he'd used the right name.  Strange he should worry about that when he was hearing voices in his head.

_"Still hung up on that, are you?"_  Mary stated flatly.  _"Normally people with the gift are more open minded.  Get over it."_ 

"Start here where the stairs meet the floor.  I'm going to go outside for a minute."  Gabe determined to ignore the girl's voice.  Maybe it wasn't ephedrine, or the Chinese take-out, or even the horror of the scene downstairs.  Maybe he was finally cracking up.  But given a choice, he'd sooner believe he was going insane than acknowledge that the girl's voice might somehow be real.  

Gabe walked out the front door and made for the miniscule backyard.  He needed to clear his head.  The yard was relatively deserted.  The property abutted the yard directly behind it.  Thankfully no emergency vehicles with their garish lights were visible from here.  Quiet.  Gabe took a deep breath and released it slowly.  Good, he felt better already.

_"Fresh air is not going to help."_  Mary's voice evidenced irritation.

Gabe looked around, but no one was in sight.  "Okay.  I give.  There's a dead girl's voice in my head.  I have gone mad.  That's it.  Kaput.  Over."

_"Stop being a whiny loser,"_ Mary scolded.  _"You've just been possessed.  Not exactly accurate, but that's the simplest way to put it."_

"Okay.  I'm not hallucinating, I've just been possessed by a teenager."  Gabe waved his arms in time with his speech.  "I think I like the insanity theory better, less complications."

_"You don't know the half of it."_  Her voice held an edge of distress now.  _"You've seen so much but you don't have a clue what's really going on.  I'm real and everything you saw was real.  What you've seen is only the beginning.  This night isn't over yet."_  Mary paused.  _"Abram's spell went awry.  It should have exorcised the demon without killing the possessed.  You saw the physical results in the downstairs room but only one of the magical effects."_

"Abrams?  Creepy little guy, sweater, bowl, symbols, mumbo-jumbo?  Wait a minute, you're saying..."  

_"Yes.  He was a demon.  Or rather, he was being used by a demon.  Abrams was really quite harmless before all of this.  Never much of a caster, though.  You and I are bound together because he screwed the pooch with that last spell."_ 

"Great.  Wait a second.  You said that was just one of the magical effects.  What else can go wrong tonight?"  Gabe felt sure that he did not want to know the answer to that question.

_"Lesser demons can't just go around possessing people.  Once summoned to this world they can only be bound by witchcraft."_ 

"Demons?  There are more than one of those things out there?"

_"Oh sure.  Most aren't as violent as our fella, but they're all pretty wicked.  Britney Spears?  Demon.  Freddy Prinze, Jr.? Definitely possessed.  Didn't think he made it that far on talent, did you?  I mean, come on, did you even see Scooby-Doo?  What Buffy sees in him, I don't know."

"Anyway, the spell Abrams used is supposed to send the demon back to its own world.  His lame casting sent it somewhere else in this world.  Told him he should've waited for the Sister."_

"Okay."  Gabe thought a moment before continuing.  "Assuming that I'm really having this conversation ... what happens next?  How do I get rid of the demon?"  _And how do I get rid of you,_ he wondered.

_"I heard that."_

"Sorry," Gabe mumbled.  Was he actually apologizing to the voice of a dead girl?  Yes, he supposed he was.

_"Better be.  You need me, fingerprint boy.  Now, normally this type of demon will control the person it possesses, sometimes channeling a limited amount of its power through that person into this world.  You saw what went down upstairs.  What he became.  An ordinary person would have been killed by the defense I used."_ 

Mary's voice was hushed.  _"Once the house is searched it will become clear what evil these creatures are capable of.  And after this spell, I don't know what kind of powers it might have.  The question is, where did the bastard go?"_

"I wish I stayed home," Gabe said.

"Gabe, who are you talking to?"  

Gabe whirled to see Jack Casey standing at the corner of the house.

"Uh...," Gabe stammered.  Embarrassed, he looked towards Jack's familiar face.  Gabe's blood turned to ice.  A baleful yellow glow illuminated Jack Casey's eyes.

_"Oh ."_

© 2002 Austin Hale


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## Jodo Kast (Oct 23, 2002)

Great post, Lampy!  You've done a good job capturing both the humor and the horror of Gabe Ansgar, stuck with the disembodied voice of a dead teenage girl in his head!  I'm looking forward to the next session.  I've got some new music prepped you'll probably want to quote in the story hour ....


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## Mystic (Oct 24, 2002)

*sw33t!*

ACK!  Hurry with your next update!!  Things are really starting to develop and I can NOT wait anymore!!!  Ok, I know you just posted this one, but you've got me on the edge...of a bump so to say   

Kick arse stuff, keep it coming.


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## Lamprolign (Oct 25, 2002)

Thanks for the comments Mystic.  I’m way behind on turning session notes into narrative but I hope to have the next update posted on Tuesday or Wednesday. "^_^"


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## Jodo Kast (Oct 29, 2002)

In case anyone is curious or put-off about the copyright notices on the posts in this thread, I've discussed with Lamprolign the possibility of using some of our game material for an animated feature script.  The game is going like gangbusters, and I think the Story Hour is coming along pretty nicely.  Lamprolign is a huge anime fan, and agrees that our sessions could make for a really interesting anime series.  I've advised him to go ahead and post a copyright notice on his stories with that goal in mind.

Of course you can feel free to use this material in your own d20 Modern Games if you are inspired to do so.  We would also like to get your feedback: Would this Story Hour make for a good animated feature, animated series, movie or comic book?  We welcome any critique.  We're trying to convey the events of our personal game in a way that grabs the reader.  BTW, if you're waiting for the action to start ... fasten your seatbelts, the next few updates should be extremely action-packed if they follow the sessions.


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## Desdichado (Oct 30, 2002)

Mood music?  What do you use?

Great story, BTW.  Once I figured out what was going on!  Right now you just have one player?  Any plans to increase that?


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## cthuluftaghn (Oct 30, 2002)

Lovin' the style in this story.  The descriptives get the reader to really mentally "zoom in" on the details.  In that sense, it sort of reminds me of the graphic close-ups on CSI.  And, the richly devloped story over a span of what must be just a few minutes (in story time) is reminiscent of 24.  Combine those with the element of horror, and a finely deveoped character... it's a winning combo!  I think it would play nicely into an adult-oriented animated feature.

I'm really curious to see what a game session is like, too.


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## Lamprolign (Oct 31, 2002)

Thanks for the compliments!  _First Sight_ is a type of campaign that I’ve wanted to play/run for a long time.  My thought when Jodo Kast and I started this adventure was that it would be a beginning for a larger campaign with multiple player characters.  There will be new characters introduced over the next  installments that will be non-player characters at first but may be taken over by additional players later.  We’ll see how it goes.  As Jodo Kast mentioned before the actual game play is in a “fly by the seat of your pants” mode right now.  Once we have the D20 modern rulebook in our hands we’ll probably bring all the stats in line with that.  As for the music, Jodo Kast is a master at assembling tracks which go along with the game action.  It’s really like having a custom soundtrack for each gaming session.  The lyrics at the beginning of each installment are from a track that played sometime during that event in game-time.   I’m still behind on writing up narrative, I hope to have the next post up in the next two or three days.


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## Krellic (Nov 3, 2002)

Nice to see something really different in the Story Hour.  I just hope that the D20 Modern Rules don't get in the way when they arrive!


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## Lamprolign (Nov 4, 2002)

[This post is from Jodo Kast ... Lamprolign posted on my machine last and I forgot to log him out]

Thanks Krellic and cthuluftaghn!  We're using the Shadow Chasers mini-game from Polyhedron right now, and from what I've heard the rules are fairly faithful to d20 Modern.  We'll find out soon I guess!  

As for Joshua's question about music, I like to prep rock tunes for modern gaming.  Everything from Jeff Buckley's Nightmares of the Sea or Last Goodbye, to the Rolling Stones' Paint It Black, to the Pixies' Where Is My Mind, to Love Spit Love's Am I Wrong.  Also the tunes that we've quoted to open each story hour installment.  I find this kind of stuff sets the mood perfectly.  For a really dark moment, Glenn Danzig did an orchestral album called Black Aria.  Heavy, dark instrumental stuff.  It's good for those moments when tension is building to a crescendo and all hell is about to break loose. 

Also in response to Joshua, I don't think we'll increase the party size for this game, probably keep this one running solo.  The interaction between the protagonist (Gabriel Ansgar) and the NPCs is the essence of the story, and more PCs might muddy the waters.  However, I've got plans for a larger group in a different d20 Modern scenario.  It will retain a lot of the dark elements found in our First Sight stuff, but should have more light moments as well.  Basically the tone of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  From what I've seen of d20 Modern thus far it will probably incorporate elements of both the Shadow Chasers and Urban Arcana style games.

Stay tuned, the first big action scenes are coming up soon!


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## cthuluftaghn (Nov 8, 2002)

Kerbumpski....

I thought I was the only one who ever owned Black Aria.


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## Mystic (Nov 13, 2002)

I was hoping to see another installment waiting to be read  

You've got a great story in the works, I can see it as anime already...adult geered and dark of course.  Keep it coming!!!

::Waiting (impatiently) for the next instalment::


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## Jodo Kast (Nov 14, 2002)

Not that I'm one to talk, I haven't been able to update my own story in ages ... but come on Lamprolign, send me some new write-ups already!


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## cthuluftaghn (Nov 15, 2002)

Yeah!


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## Buddha the DM (Nov 18, 2002)

Man I'm loving this story hour.. Just the right mix of creepyness and intrigue to keep me hooked.


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## Lamprolign (Feb 23, 2003)

*Heeeeeeee's Back ....*

_I wish I was the brakeman
on a hurtlin' fevered train
crashin' head long into the heartland
like a cannon in the rain
with the feelin' of the sleepers
and the burnin' of the coal
countin' the towns flashin' by
and a night that's full of soul_
-The Waterboys, _Fisherman's Blues_

“Who are you talking to Gabe?”  Jack Casey asked, moving toward Gabe.

“I… uh,” Gabe stammered.  Embarrassed, he looked toward Jack Casey.  A pale yellowish glow flickered in the detective’s eyes.

“Oh .”

Jack moved steadily towards Gabe.  In one fluid motion he drew his 9mm Baretta pistol from beneath his overcoat and trained it on Gabe’s head.

“You really should have taken the detective’s advice about carrying a sidearm Gabriel.”  The voice was Jack’s but changed, deeper and resonating.

“_RUN!_”

Gabe’s legs moved quicker than his mind, speeding him towards the side of the house.  The report of a gunshot rang out behind him, the unseen bullet sending up a spray of snow to his side.  Gabe swerved and vaulted the low chain-link fence, cutting his hand in the process.  Red splotches marred the white ground where Gabe ran.  His ears told him that Jack was close on his heels.

“_This is bad_,” Mary’s voice flashed in Gabe’s mind.

“Oh, really?”  Gabe panted.  “What on earth would give you that idea!”

“_This is no time for sarcasm, he knows that you’ve seen him._”  Mary retorted.  “_You’re a threat to him_.”

"_I'm_ a threat to _him_?!  That maniac's shooting at me!"

"_Us ... he's shooting at US_!"

Gabe crashed through a scraggly evergreen hedge onto an icy sidewalk.  Jack was seconds behind him.

No good, Gabe thought.  Too open, easy shot.  Gabe ran across the street, cutting between houses, keeping as many obstacles between himself and Jack as he could.  Another fence, another hedge, another street.  Gabe had no idea where he was running.  The houses were older, more dilapidated.  He cut again between houses.  Gabe looked behind him.  He didn’t see Jack.  

"_Gabe, watch ..._!"  Suddenly wood snapped underfoot and the world fell away beneath him.  He experienced an instant of freefall before landing in a heap on a cold stone surface.  

Gabe’s head throbbed from the impact with stone.  He opened his eyes slowly and found himself staring at a waxing gibbous moon through a jagged opening.  Gingerly he tried moving his arms, then his legs.  Good, nothing broken.  Gabe was lying at the foot of stone stairs, an old cellar entrance above.  Mildew and lichen gave the stone surfaces a mottled appearance in the dim light.  Miniature frozen waterfalls evidenced chronic leaks around the once dilapidated, now destroyed cellar door.  

“_You had better move, he’s getting closer_.”  Mary’s voice held an urgency which jolted Gabe from his concussed reverie. 

“Well, Gabriel,” Jack Casey’s voice floated down eerily from above.  “You’ve certainly made things easy for me.”

The moon was eclipsed by Jack’s head and torso leaning over the ruined cellar door.  One arm was outstretched.  Gabe saw the faint glint of moonlight off of the gun barrel.

“_Caer’aroon naes naeor_,” Mary’s voice intoned inside Gabe’s head.  Again, “_Caer’aroon naes naeor_.”

“_Caer’aroon naes naeor_.”  Gabe heard his own voice speaking the words.  His arms lifted of their own volition, pointing directly at Jack’s chest.

“_Caer’aroon naes naeor_!"

Blue fire erupted from Gabe’s hands, streaming upward to strike Jack Casey full in the chest.  Jack issued an inhuman scream and fell from sight.

“_MOVE_! _NOW_!”  Mary’s voice reverberated in Gabe’s head.

Gabe scrambled to his feet, running up the uneven stairs.  Jack lay on his back writhing some feet away.  Small tendrils of smoke rose in wisps, glowing in the moonlight.  Gabe ran faster than he thought possible.  His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his lungs felt as if they might burst, but he felt as he never had before.  He noticed that his hands were surrounded by faint blue light.

“_I’m amazed that worked_.”  Mary’s voice held both relief and a more than a little disbelief.  “_You are more than a seer, Mr. Investigator_.”

Gabe could not spare the breath to reply, nor was his battered brain capable of forming words, let alone a coherent sentence.  Gabe cast a furtive glance over his shoulder in time to see the muzzle flash of Jack’s pistol.  He felt the burning trace of the bullet across his temple a split second before hearing the gunshot.  He staggered and fell to his knees, but quickly recovered and ran on.  Warm blood ran in rivulets down his face, occluding vision in his right eye.  Behind him he heard more gunshots.  Jack had abandoned all caution after losing his prey.

Gabe noticed now that there were no houses on the streets.  Abandoned warehouses, dilapidated brick structures, rose three or four stories above.  The area looked familiar.  There were many homicide scenes around the old railway warehouses on the south side of the city.  He wondered how close he was to the Orange Line…

“_Left_!  _Now_!” cried Mary.

Gabe angled sharply to his left, down a narrow alley.  A quick look showed Jack about 20 yards behind him and closing fast.  Gabe heard nothing but the roaring of his breath, his pounding pulse, and each footfall on the rough pavement.  Ahead he saw illuminated mists which obscured the alley’s end.  He was reminded of a recurring nightmare which had plagued him from childhood.  In the dream he was always running from something terrifying.  Something which he could not see, yet filled him with dread.  

Gabe tripped on an unseen obstacle and tumbled out of the mists.  Cold gravel pressed into his face.  He looked up to see train rails inches from his nose.  He looked back to the railway dock of the old warehouses.  Jack Casey burst from the mist and leapt from the elevated dock, his overcoat spread behind him like leathern wings.  Gabe rolled to his right, Jack’s foot slamming into the gravel where his head had been an instant before.  Gabe floundered in the gravel.  Jack grabbed his coat collar with one hand, lifting Gabe off the ground and hurling him into the air.

He lay there for a moment, dazed, blinded in one eye by the blood gushing from the wound on his forehead.  Once again he felt himself flying through the air.  Lights exploded in his head when his trajectory was stopped short by a railway signal pole.  Gabe’s world began to dissolve…

“_Get up_!”  Mary’s voice cried out. “_He’s ready to finish you_!”

Gabe moved his arms with great difficulty.  His hand brushed against something cold, round, metallic.  He seized it.  Through his one clear eye he watched Jack Casey walking slowly toward him like a predator, confident that the prey is spent.  

“_Voraes ni tuagh banigh_.”

A warm tingling began in Gabe’s spine and spread to his arms and legs.  He felt strength return to his extremities.  His grip on the pipe tightened.  Jack stopped an arm’s length from Gabe’s prone form.  An empty clip fell to the ground inches from Gabe’s ear. He heard the metallic scrape and click of a new clip sliding into place.  In his mind’s eye he saw Jack slowly extending his arm, the Baretta pointed at his head.  Gabe rolled, swinging the pipe with strength born of desperation.  It struck Jack’s outstretched hand, sending the pistol skittering across the gravel.

With both hands on the pipe Gabe swung again.  This time the pipe struck Jack’s knee with a sickening wet crunch.  An inhuman howl echoed through the mists.  Gabe continued to roll.  He saw Jack’s Baretta laying only feet away.  Gabe felt a slight rumble in the ground beneath him.  Something looked familiar about this place … he remembered.  They were on the tracks used by the Orange Line on its spur to Midway Airport and South Cicero.  Gabe had seen these warehouses many times from the train.  It must be approaching dawn, and the first run of the southside to downtown loop was on its way. 

Gabe frantically scrambled for the pistol.  He felt a sharp pain in the small of his back.  Jack hammered two more blows into his kidneys before Gabe spun, swinging the pipe like a mace.  Jack caught the pipe mid-swing, holding it fast.  The rumble in the ground became an audible roar as the Orange Line train grew near.  In his peripheral vision Gabe saw the Barretta lying on the gravel.  In front of him Jack’s face was hardly recognizable, twisted and contorted, the eyes glowing with devilish yellow light.  Gabe released the pipe and dove for the pistol.  Gravel dug painfully into his elbows when he hit the ground.  His hand closed around the butt of the pistol.  He rolled with the momentum and came up on one knee, the pistol trained on Jack Casey’s chest.  Jack growled as he rushed forward.  Gabe’s finger tightened on the trigger.  The report of the pistol rang above the din of the approaching train.

Jack stopped.  He looked quizzically at the hole in his coat and the bloody froth that emerged each time he drew a breath.   For a moment the yellow glow in his eyes vanished, his face softened.  Gabe's hands shook.  It happened so fast.  He'd never shot a person before ... never even been in a real fight. 

“Gabe?”

The yellow fire returned.  Jack snarled, bloody foam trailing from his mouth, and lunged at Gabe.

“!”  Gabe pulled the trigger twice more.  The first shot was errant, flying unseen into the night.  The second shot found its mark, slamming home into Jack’s chest.

Jack fell to his knees on the tracks.  When their eyes met, the yellow glow was gone.

“I’m sorry, Gabe,” he said, spitting blood with each word.

“Jack.”  

A train horn and a bright light shattered the moment.  One instant Jack Casey was before him coughing blood, the next the blurred lights of train windows streaked past.

Gabe stumbled backwards in horror.  He turned and ran from the tracks and down a black alley.  He didn’t know if it was the same one he had come out of or not.  His rational mind was shutting down.  Gabe was running on instinct.  He didn’t know how long or how far he ran.  Exhaustion claimed him outside of an indistinct abandoned warehouse.  Snow was falling again, and the eastern sky was lightening with the coming dawn.  Gabe entered the warehouse through a broken door, seeking some shelter from the bitter wind blowing off of the lake.  Gabe huddled in a small room that once served as an office in the warehouse.  He felt consciousness slipping away.

“_Gabe, there’s someone else in here…_”

© 2002 Austin Hale


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## Jodo Kast (Feb 24, 2003)

Good work on the new post, Lamprolign.  It only took three months!    I have the task of writing up the next entry, although it's been awhile since we covered this ground, so I'll have to burn some cobwebs in the ol' cranium.  I'm still trying to decide on the right musical quote ... going to be hard to top the Waterboys entry I gave Lampy last time.  I'll post the next installment sometime this week ... the action only heats up from here, folks!


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## Jodo Kast (Feb 26, 2003)

_A long time ago before the ice and the snow 
There were giants that walked this land 
And with each step they took, the mighty mountains shook 
And the trees took a knee and the seas rolled in 
Then one day they say the sky gave way 
And death rained down, it made a terrible sound 
There was fire everywhere and nothin' was spared 
That walked on the land or flew through the air 
And when it all was over 
The slate wiped clean with a touch 
There God stood and he saw it was good 
And He said "ashes to ashes and dust to dust"_
	- Steve Earle, _Ashes to Ashes_

"_Gabe, there's someone else in here..._."

The crime scene investigator named Gabriel Ansgar lay senseless on the floor of an abandoned warehouse.  An angry blue welt was rising beneath his left eye.  A rust-colored track of dried blood ran across his temple.  His clothes were torn and crumpled.  From this unlikely host emerged something like an angel.

Her form rose up from the detective, a translucent, shimmering apparition.  The girl was slight of build, with fine features, porcelain skin, pale hair, and eyes like blue watercolor.  With each passing second her form became more substantial, until finally she appeared as solid and real as the slumbering investigator.  This was Mary Johansson.

The girl held her hand up before her face, watching it materialize, substantiate, before her very eyes.  She looked down at the detective and turned, taking in her dingy surroundings.  They were still in the warehouse.  Gabe was on the floor.  And she was not in his head.  The girl leapt in the air and pumped her fists.

"WOO-HOO!"

She landed on one foot and high-kicked the other leg, her long black coat whipping about her.  Now that she was back in the material world, she felt the sting of cold wind in the drafty warehouse and was thankful Poe had loaned the coat to her.  _Poe!  And the Sister ... just wait until they hear about this_!

The wind blew harder, howling through the open entryway.  The girl stopped in mid-spin and her smile melted.  She heard footfalls, distant, yet impossibly loud, and remembered.  _We're not alone._

Hesitantly she walked to the gaping door.  Pressing her body flat against the interior wall, she cautiously peered outside with one eye.  It was early morning, and though the sun had climbed above the edge of the world she could not see it through the gray haze that cloaked the warehouse district.  The buildings seemed to melt into one another, the streetlamps rose listlessly from the roadside and almost seemed to waver in the hard wind.  Not a person nor car was too be seen.  Had the neighborhood seemed so barren when she and Gabe traversed it just moments before?  It was as if Mary had regained her material form, only to find the world insubstantial.

In the distance, a sable form cut through the endless sea of gray.  It appeared to be a man, though it was too distant to be certain.  But it was moving fast, with purpose, straight toward Mary.  Each footfall echoed through the empty streets.  Though it could not have seen her, not yet, Mary was certain she saw its head tilt slightly in her direction.  Then she heard the voice, a low, malevolent growl that began in the pit of her stomach and spread like liquid fire to her brain.

_"What's the matter, girl?  Not so brave now that you're in my world, are you?"_

Mary whipped her head inside the doorframe, her form sliding weakly down the wall until she sat trembling on the floor.  For what seemed like an eternity she sat there, her knees tucked up against her and her arms wrapped tightly about them.  The demon was here.  But where was here, anyway?

_"You can't hide forever, Mary.  You should run.  I like it when they run."_

Mary's eyes fixed on Gabe's slumbering form.  He was in no condition to help her, but if she could rouse him at least she would not be alone.  She dashed across the floor and shook him violently, but to no avail.  He was dead to the world.  Mary clenched her teeth together resolutely.

_Okay, demon.  Just you and me.  If that's the way it's gonna be, I'm not gonna make this easy for you_.

The dark figure stalked down the deserted road, casting a shadow far too long and broad, a shadow that wavered and crackled on the pavement like black fire.  Its head turned from side to side as it passed, sniffing at the buildings about it, hunting patiently for its quarry.

"Hey tall, dark and ugly.  Over here."

The figure stopped in its tracks and looked up.  There, in the street before it, stood the girl, her snowy hair and dark coat whipping in the wind.  The demon's face regarded her, and from the shadow she caught a glimpse of shining teeth and glowing amber eyes.  Its shadow lengthened, an organic darkness that writhed over the pavement to engulf her own small shadow.

The girl resolutely stood her ground.  She extended her arms and clasped her hands together, her thumbs and forefingers extended in the shape of a pistol.  

"Tharae curoon taranis!"

Energy crackled and coalesced about the girl's form, tracing its way down her arms and exploding from her outstretched fingers in a jagged bolt of blue-white lightning that struck the demon square in the chest.  Staggered back, the demon emitted an inhuman howl.  But even as wisps of energy danced and crackled about her enemy, Mary saw something that chilled her to the core.  The light of the electricity traced the outline of the demon's face, the square jaw, the receding brown hair ... it was the face of Gabriel Ansgar.  The demon smiled.

_"My turn."_

The demon's long shadow writhed on the ground, and Mary's eyes went wide as the shadow sprouted corporeal tendrils that rose up to entangle her, pulling at her clothes, binding her wrists.  The Gabe-demon snapped its fingers and a tiny spark leapt from its fingertips in a high, slow arc.  The spark floated gently to the ground some five feet away, landing in the demon's squirming shadow.  Where the spark landed, the shadow ignited in a sheet of flame which raced towards Mary, climbing the grasping tendrils and engulfing the girl in a living wall of shadow and fire.  The demon threw back its head in a horrifying bay, part bark, part laughter.

But as the flames blazed, the laughter died and the Gabe-demon's face changed from insane glee, to shock, to grudging respect.  Before it stood the girl, her arms braced together in front of her.  The flames licked at the perimeter of an unseen protective sphere.  The girl began chanting again.

"Thoran mihal thaeun."

Mary rose into the air above the flames and hovered there, glaring down at the demon.  Her body felt alive with power, her spells more potent than ever before.  She was beginning to think she might actually survive this....

The Gabe-demon gnashed its teeth and snarled at the levitating girl, opening its jaw impossibly wide.  A ball of fire erupted from its maw and hurtled toward Mary.  The projectile struck her defensive sphere, shattering it into a million fragments of mystic energy.  The flaming orb itself flared out around the girl, reforming into the shape of a giant jaw lined with a million fiery teeth.  Mary let out a tiny gasp.  The jaw slammed shut around her, encapsulating her in a burning ball of anguish.  

It seemed she hung there for an eternity, burning.  Then she was falling.  Her shadow grew to greet her as she plummeted to the asphalt, landing in a smoldering heap.  The last thing she saw was the demon, its arms outstretched in triumph.

_"Looks like I've got the place all to myself now."_  The Gabe-demon surveyed the barren street.  A yellow strip of crime scene tape fluttered past him in the wind, the only color visible against the gray landscape.  _"I just hope this husk serves me better than the last." _

© 2003 Austin Hale


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## The Sister (Feb 27, 2003)

Very good story development so far.  This was a turn in the story that I'd not expected, and I enjoyed it.  The next installment MUST come soon!


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## Jodo Kast (Feb 28, 2003)

Thanks, Sister!  I'm hoping to get the next installment to Lamprolign for his review tomorrow (Saturday), and post it this weekend.  It's another fast-paced actioner.


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## Jodo Kast (Mar 6, 2003)

_Car alarm won't let you back to sleep 
you're kept awake dreaming some else's dream 
coffee is cold, but it will get you through 
compromise, that's nothing new to you 
let's see colors that have never been seen 
let's go to places no one else has been. 
You're in my mind all of the time 
I know that's not enough 
if the sky can crack 
there must be some way back 
to love and only love._ 
-U2, _Electrical Storm_ 

Standing in the doorway of the abandoned warehouse, Gabe Ansgar watched in stunned horror as Mary plummeted to the road in a smoldering heap.  His body weak, he leaned against the doorway and saw Mary's attacker extend its arms in triumph.  It was gloating in a low, rumbling voice.

"_Looks like I've got the place all to myself now.  I just hope this husk serves me better than the last_."  The figure surveyed the barren street, its back turned to Gabe.  A yellow strip of crime scene tape fluttered by, catching the figure's attention.  As it tracked the tape, its head turned and Gabe saw its face for the first time.  The face was his own.

"No!"  The scream erupted from Gabe's throat.  Without conscious thought he charged the attacker, his hands clenched into tight fists.  The figure turned to regard him, too late.  Gabe was upon it.  He tackled his foe and landed atop it.  Face to face with his own likeness, Gabe roared in rage.  He rained a flurry of blows upon the figure, pounding away until its face, his face, was a bloody pulp.  When the figure stopped struggling beneath him, Gabe leapt up and rushed to Mary's side.

"Mary!"  Gabe's fingers traced the girl's neck, frantically seeking a pulse.  Just as it occurred to Gabe that the girl Mary was already dead, that she in fact inhabited his head, a long shadow fell over his stooped form.  A guttural growl shook the air and raised all the hairs on Gabe's body.

"_Don't turn your back on me, Ansgar.  I was just getting warmed up._"

Gabe looked over his shoulder to see Mary's attacker standing behind him.  The figure was much larger now, its muscular form stretching clothes to the point of ripping away.  Above each temple a curling horn sprouted as Gabe watched.  Where Gabe's fists had broken the skin, the face cracked in jagged lines that revealed a burning glow within the creature.  It leered at Gabe, its face a crumbling, scorched effigy of his own.  Its eyes blazed yellow, not the languid hue of Jack Casey's or Abram's possessed eyes, but a fierce molten fire.  From the creature emanated the intense heat of a blast furnace.  Jack's mind seized upon the gruesome vision he had in Abram's house, a figure masked in flame, its eyes burning brighter than the firestorm around it.  He was seeing the demon revert to its true form.

The demon swung a basketball-sized fist at Gabe in a wide arc, trailing flame as it roared through space.  The blow connected and Gabe flew from his feet.  His dazed form shot above the street and through the soaped-over window of an abandoned storefront.  He hurtled on through first one brick wall, then another.  He finally smacked into a broad column, snapping it in two with the force of the impact.  He heard a pained groan above him and looked up just in time to witness the building collapse upon him in a torrent of bricks and debris.

The demon threw back its head and roared laughter, the last of Gabe's face sloughing away to reveal a wholly inhuman visage.  Now that it reigned over Gabriel Ansgar's being, its thoughts turned to the havoc it would wreak in the mortal world with its new form.  It closed its eyes and concentrated, establishing the link that would allow it to see through Ansgar's eyes, act with his limbs.

The street shook beneath the demon, disrupting its contemplation.  Its eyes opened slowly and its burning gaze fell upon the crumbled building across the way.  A cloud of gray dust hung in the air above it.  The debris shifted.  Bricks fell from the top of the rubble heap and the ground trembled.  With a deep rumble, the heap collapsed upon itself again, and ash again billowed out in a blinding cloud.

A figure emerged from the debris and strode toward the demon, a dark silhouette outlined in the dust cloud.  The demon's brow furrowed, its eyes narrowed to blazing points of light.

"You know," a voice emerged from the veil of ashen powder.  "I was dead for a second there.  Sure I was.  I mean, a demon hurled me through a building, which then fell on top of me.  Squish.  I believed I was dead, and so I was.  But then the dead man had a thought.  Look up and down this street.  Other than me, you and Mary, there's not a soul in sight.  Not a car, truck, bus, not even a parked vehicle.

"And speaking of Mary, how is it that I can see her?  She's dead, the paramedics hauled her body off hours ago.  She only exists inside my head.  So if I'm seeing her, I must be inside my head too."  

Gabe Ansgar emerged from the dust and faced the demon.  "I know, I know, it sounds pretty crazy, right?  But it would explain a lot.  You wearing my face, for example.  Or how about the fact that a three-story building just took a dump on me and I walked away without a scratch?"

Gabe tapped his finger on his head.  "My head.  My home court.  My rules."

Gabe's hands moved in front of him, awkwardly tracing invisible designs in the air.  "Mumbo jumbo, hocus pocus, waterfalls and monkey balls, SHAZAM!"

The demon bent its head, regarding Gabe quizzically.  Then a small, glistening green ball of energy appeared in front of the investigator.  With a slight gesture, Gabe sent the orb hurtling at the demon.  The demon's eyes widened as the sphere raced toward it.  It grew in size as it traveled, and when it found its mark it was the size of a grand piano.  The impact tossed the demon through space like a rag doll, its blazing body crashing into and through a warehouse.

Gabe wiped his hands together with a smug look of self-satisfaction.  His grin vanished, however, when his eyes fell upon Mary's crumpled form in the road.  He had just started towards her when he heard an odd whistling sound.  It was quiet at first, but grew into a screeching roar.  A circular shadow engulfed him, rapidly growing larger.  Gabe looked up to see a colossal ball of molten slag hurtling toward him.

"Oh...."

The flaming sphere struck Gabe with an earth-shattering impact, leaving a steaming crater the size of an Olympic swimming pool.  Deep, jagged cracks raced away from the impact crater, engulfing sections of roadway and toppling derelict buildings.  One such fissure coursed toward Mary's prone form, splitting the asphalt beneath her, and she was gone, swallowed by shadow.  

The sky was unbroken gray above the smoldering depression.  Through whorls of smoky haze, a staggering figure appeared on the crater's rim.  It was the demon.  Staring down into the pit, the demon saw a man-shaped impression at the bottom.  Shaking his head clear, Gabe Ansgar peeled himself from the fuming earth.  Gabe clawed his way up the side of the crater, a scowl of fierce determination on his face.  The demon staggered back as Gabe climbed over the lip, not believing its eyes.

"Is that ... <cough> ... the best ... <hack> ... you've got?"

Gabe began moving his hands randomly through the air and muttered some nonsensical words.  Before he could complete his "spell," the demon howled in fury and lowered its head.  It charged Gabe, ramming him in the chest with its fiery, curling horns.  The blow sent Gabe tumbling end over end down the crater wall.  Before he tumbled to a stop, the demon leapt after him, its clawed fingers slicing through the steaming air.  It landed on him and lashed out, claws carving deep gashes along Gabe's cheek.  Gabe rolled onto his back and kicked his leg, catching the demon in its stomach.  The force of the blow carried the demon up and over Gabe, and it crashed down to the crater's bottom.  Gabe scrabbled out of the depression, the demon following closely behind.

Gabe faced the demon on the edge of the crater.  Both were bruised and bloodied.  Gabe's momentary cockiness was gone.  The combatants circled one another, each sizing the other up for any opening that might be used for an attack.  The demon seemed to hold the upper hand, and it advanced slowly toward Gabe, forcing him back toward the rim of the depression.

Behind the demon, a hand grasped the edge of a serrated fissure that ran down the street.  Another hand appeared, followed by snowy white hair.  The girl Mary dragged herself out of the crevasse and onto the street.  She saw the demon, its back to her, saw Gabe backing away.  She caught his eye and began tracing runes in the air, quietly sounding an incantation.  Her hands glowed with arcane energy.

Gabe lowered his head and concentrated.  Seizing the opportunity, the demon charged, just as a glowing white longspear materialized in Gabe's grasp.  Gabe nodded at Mary, and mouthed the word, "Now!"

Gabe dropped to one knee, burying the haft of his spear in the street.  With a fluid throwing motion, Mary tossed three bolts of mystic energy that darted unerringly to strike the demon's back.  It lurched forward, falling onto the point of Gabe's set spear.  The conjured weapon's point burst from the demon's back.  The demon shrieked in pain and rage as it slid down the weapon's shaft.  Its body shuddered with great convulsions, and a flailing arm caught Gabe in the head, sending him reeling back.  When Gabe lost his grip on the longspear, the weapon instantly dissolved.  Gabe could see Mary preparing another spell through the gaping hole the spear left in the demon.

The demon howled and swiped a clawed fist at Gabe, but he was able to duck beneath the blow.  Mary closed in so that they flanked the demon, carefully circling it as wolves might a wounded bear.  Time and again Gabe darted in to land a powerful blow on the demon, and Mary struck with spell after spell.  The demon was staggered, yet with every fall it steadfastly rose again.  Gabe was tiring.  Mary's arcane reserves seemed depleted.  And still the demon fought on.

Just as Gabe was about to abandon hope, a cold wind swept with gale force down the road, carrying on it a rising chant.

_Naaltsoos  anasazi diyogi be'iina nil-chi-tso._

Thunder rumbled, and the combatants paused and looked up to the heavens.  Dark clouds swirled overhead, sundered by blinding flashes of lightning.  The wind blew harder, sweeping up ash, dust and debris that washed over them in a stinging torrent.

_Naaltsoos  anasazi diyogi be'iina nil-chi-tso._  Louder, stronger.

Clouds raced together, forming a vortex above.  A funnel extended from the clouds, corkscrewing toward the earth, toward Gabe, Mary, and the demon.

_Naaltsoos  anasazi diyogi be'iina nil-chi-tso._  The words reverberated with power.

The funnel hovered above them, and heavy debris whipped through the air, threatening to decapitate them.  Like a coiled snake the swirling vortex struck, the funnel swallowing the demon.

Mary was swept from her feet by the force of the gale.  Gabe lunged for her desperately and caught her forearm as she soared past.  He held fast, struggling to pull her back to earth.   A clawed hand reached out of the funnel and grasped Mary by the ankle.

_NAALTSOOS  ANASAZI DIYOGI BE'IINA NIL-CHI-TSO._ 

Even as the storm gathered intensity, the demon clawed its way up Mary's leg until it was able to wrap both arms around her waist.  It favored Gabe with a toothy grin.

The demon roared above the deafening wind and chanting.  "_If I am to be banished, I shall not go alone!  Come girl, the Hells await._"

"Tharae curoon taranis!" cried Mary.  A lightning bolt leapt from her free hand to strike the demon in its face.  Electricity arced through the demon's eyes and mouth, and outlined its horns in crackling energy.  The demon bellowed mightily as it loosed its grip and tumbled up into the vortex.

Mary gasped as Gabe lost his grip around her forearm and she slipped away after the demon.  At the last instant, Gabe's fingers grasped Mary's hand and caught her fast.  As the maelstrom threatened to sweep Gabe off of his feet, a street sign appeared where there had been none.  Gabe grasped the signpost with his free hand and held tight.  Gabe wrapped his legs around the street sign and pulled Mary into him hand over hand.  When he had finally reeled her in, Gabe wrapped his arms about her and the post.  

As suddenly as it had begun, the chanting ceased and the funnel retreated into the vortex.  The wind died down, and the inky clouds broke to reveal a crimson sky.  Gabe held Mary protectively until the two collapsed in exhaustion.

Gabe awoke on the hard floor of a warehouse, ringed by a circle of candles.  Outside of the circle of light all was pitch black, save for a pair of red eyes piercing the darkness.     

(c) 2003 Austin Hale

_DM's Note_:  I've written up the last two posts.  Lamprolign (Gabe) will resume writing up posts from his session notes, with my editing assistance.  He should post the next installment by this weekend.  If anyone is curious about the mechanics and wild spell effects of the last two posts, keep in mind that these battles occurred inside of Gabe's head.  I decided that physics (and d20 rules) do not apply there, and let Gabe and the NPCs run wild.  Made for some fun fighting, the kind of stuff only high level characters typically get to engage in.  New characters are introduced soon.


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## The Sister (Mar 9, 2003)

The tension has continued to build with challenges going from bad to worse in a good story writing style.  If you keep this up…and come up with a satisfactory end…it would be worth your efforts to submit this to a publisher.


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## Lamprolign (Mar 12, 2003)

_I'll tell you something 
I am a wolf but 
I like to wear sheep's clothing 
I am a bonfire 
I am a vampire 
I'm waiting for my moment._
- Garbage, _Temptation Waits_

Gabe awoke on the hard floor of the warehouse, ringed by candles.  Outside of the circle of light all was pitch black, save for a pair of red eyes piercing the darkness.

The eyes blinked and tilted to one side.  Their owner sprang from the shadows to land astride Gabe's prone body, a dark form looming above him.  A small hand gripped his throat, lifting him from the floor with surprising strength and pinning him against the wall.

"What have you done with Mary?" demanded a woman's voice, edged with steel.

"Ach uurgh aach," was all Gabe could manage through the constriction of his windpipe.

"_I know that voice_!" Mary said.

_That's nice, you know who's about to kill me_. Gabe thought

"_Us_."

_You're already dead._

"Answer me!"  The woman's voice was even more threatening.  "I haven't had a good feed in weeks.  You'll be dinner if you don't answer me!"

"_You had better respond,_" Mary began.  "_She's not known for her patience._"

"How can he answer if he can't breathe, Poe?"  From outside the ring of candles came another woman's voice.  This one sounded older, filled with a quiet power much like the silent flow of deep water.  And it was strangely familiar.

"Grrrrr."

"Release him, Poe."  The second woman said sternly.  "You've haven't killed anyone in months now, let's continue that trend shall we?"

The grip on Gabe's throat eased, but did not release entirely.  A broken light bulb dangling from frayed wires in the center of the ceiling began glowing, intensifying until the room was filled with light.  Gabe blinked his eyes, trying to adjust.  He saw a tall, wiry girl, her thin hand clamped firmly about his neck.  She was attired in a long black coat, open to reveal a black leather vest, fastened with numerous straps and heavy buckles.  On her exposed neck Gabe glimpsed the trailing end of a reptilian tattoo, whether snake or dragon he could not discern.  Black fatigue trousers neatly stuffed into military style boots completed the ensemble.   Her height belied the stereotype associated with her obviously Asian features.  Thin black brows arched above elliptical dark red eyes.  Hair like a shimmering shadow, broken by random tresses of copper, cascaded to her waist.  Her smile revealed four interlocking canines, each nearly an inch long.  Gabe's eyes widened, causing her smile to broaden..   

"Okay you can breathe... now." Poe brought Gabe's face nearer till their noses almost touched.  "Where is Mary?" 

"Um ... why do you have fangs?"  Gabe stammered.

"_She's a vampire, you twit,_" said Mary.

_Oh,_ thought Gabe.  _She's a vamp...what!?_   "There are no vampires!"

"_And I suppose there are no demons that go about possessing people and chasing timid crime scene investigators through dark alleys?_"  Mary responded in a voice dripping with feigned sweetness.

"Crap," Gabe replied, resigned.  "She really is a vampire."

Poe's mouth softened and her brow furrowed.  "Who are you talking to, you sick freak?"

"Mary."  Gabe said.  "I guess you two know each other."

"You disgust me, you psychotic bastard.  Start talking straight or start bleeding."  Poe's grip tightened on Gabe's windpipe again.

Gabe's eye's bulged out of his head and he made small gurgling noises.  

"Poe.  Put him down NOW!" the other woman's voice commanded.  The sound of wood striking concrete accompanied the end of her sentence.  A wind sprang to life inside the small room as the light from the dangling broken bulb flared to painful intensity.

The vampire dumped Gabe unceremoniously to the floor.  He sat there blinking against the incredibly intense glare.  The light dimmed and the other woman stepped into view.  She was not overly tall, yet she was not slight of stature.  Her face and build spoke of northern European ancestry.  Brown hair, streaked with gray, was gathered into a single braid.  It looped over one shoulder to reach the leather belt that supported all manner of pouches and artifacts, including a very large bowie knife.  She wore a plain brown dress, the hem of which swept the floor when she moved.  A shawl of reds, browns, and orange yarns, woven in a way that Gabe had never seen before, clung loosely about her shoulders.  She was favoring Poe with a glare that would have pierced steel.  Poe looked like a small child, chastised for sneaking a handful of cookies.  The woman turned to face Gabriel, her expression softened.

"You may call me Sister," she said.  "Now, you were speaking to our Mary?"

"Yes," Gabe responded, feeling oddly like he was back in grade school and being questioned by his teacher.

"And where is Mary?" the Sister asked.

Gabe tapped his temple opposite the gunshot wound.  "That is a long story.  You see...." Gabe paused.  "Uh, pardon me for asking, but just who are you people?"

"_They're the closest thing I have to family._"

"I imagine that you have many questions, Mister Ansgar," the Sister responded.  "This is no place for extended conversation and I am weary from this day's work.  Nightfall is upon us again and we can safely make our way home.  Won't you accompany us to more comfortable surroundings?"

Gabe was fairly certain the invitation was not a request, but a polite order.

"_You can trust her,_" Mary said.

"Onee-san," Poe began.  "I don't like this."

"Trust must begin somewhere," the Sister replied.  "Wouldn't you agree, Mister Ansgar?"

The unlikely trio emerged from the abandoned warehouse.  Gabe half expected to see the devastation wrought on the street from his dream, but the scene was deceptively tranquil, the ugliness of the city masked by a pristine blanket of snow.  Gabe was slightly surprised by the brisk pace that The Sister kept.  Her apparent age and physical condition did not correlate with rapid movement.  Poe walked with a predatory grace, sometimes in front by several paces, sometimes behind.  It unnerved Gabe.  He felt as though he walked with a leopard, and he was in no way at ease with her intentions.  

They walked through one of the roughest areas along the Orange Line.  Gabe cast his eyes about nervously.  He had been called out to many murder scenes in this neighborhood, mostly gang related killings, and after recent events he really didn't want any more excitement.  Through the window of one of the few storefronts that was not boarded up Gabe caught a glance of the evening edition of the Chicago Tribune.  He stopped, staring at the headlines.

*63 Found Dead as Police 
Continue Search for Victims, 
Clues - Questions Linger 
Regarding Death, 
Disappearance of Chicago
Detectives*

The death toll continues to rise as
police search the underground lair
of the most prolific serial killer to 
haunt the Greater Chicago area 
since John Wayne Gacy.  Sixty-
three bodies have been excavated
from beneath the home of prime
suspect Hugh Abrams.

Abrams, 41, is described by
neighbors as a shy, quiet man 
who kept to himself.  Abrams
remains missing.  Also missing
is crime scene investigator
Gabriel Ansgar, 34.  Ansgar
was examining the crime scene
for clues when he mysteriously
disappeared.

The body of Chicago Police 
Detective Jack Casey was found 
near the Kedzie Station of the 
Orange Line.  Casey was also
last seen alive at Abrams' home.
Police have not determined 
whether Casey's death is related
to the investigation, or to the
disappearance of Ansgar.  Casey
was hit by the Orange Line train
early Wednesday morning.   

Gabe's thoughts were pulled from the story by Mary's insistent voice.  

"_I told you to look under the stairs.  I didn't expect so many though._"

"Move it."

Gabe's reverie was broken by Poe's voice directly behind him.  He moved on, trying not to think.  Too much had happened.

They walked for nearly a half hour before arriving in front of a two-story building made entirely of quarried stone.  Even in the scant lighting Gabe could tell that it was originally a church.  The steeply sloped roof peaked at a height over four stories.  Two sets of double doors opened onto the street.  Above these was a neatly boarded over opening that probably was once a stained glass window.  A small sign above the door announced that this was the "New Haven Coalition for the Homeless."  The Sister led them around the north side to a door about halfway down the length of the building.  The door swung open at their approach, spilling light onto the snow.  

It was warm in the narrow hallway, a pleasant change from the frigid temperatures on the street.  The walls were paneled with polished hardwood that appeared freshly varnished.  A very slight musty odor hung in the air, mixing with the smell of baking bread.  Gabe's stomach growled noisily, reminding him that he'd not eaten in twenty-four hours.  They turned a corner.  Gabe thought that they must be near the rear of the building.  Doors broke the continuity of the walls on either side here.  The Sister paused at the third door and opened it.  They stepped into a room paneled much like the hallway.  Two lead framed windows with arching tops framed the fireplace on the center of the far wall.  Four overstuffed chairs were arranged in a loose semi-circle before the hearth.  
Bookshelves filled most of the wallspace.  The Sister seated herself in the chair furthest to the left of the hearth.  She looked at the logs placed carefully in the fireplace and they ignited beneath her gaze. 

"Please take a seat, Gabriel."  The Sister gestured toward the vacant chairs.  "Poe, why don't you be a dear and bring down some hot tea?"

Poe glared at Gabe before turning on her heel and leaving the room with a growl.

Gabe grumbled in response.  He'd recovered his wits enough to be more than a little irate.  After a night and day of being shot, beaten, and choked, his patience was wearing thin.

"I'd appreciate some answers.  No obscure language or veiled references, just plain English please.  How did you find us?" 

The Sister regarded Gabe for a moment before speaking.  "Interesting that you are using the plural pronoun."  A small grin played across her face.  "In 'plain English,' I followed Mary's aura like a beacon.  I expected to find her, but instead found you.

"Poe and I were on our way to Abrams' home when I felt Mary's spirit cry out.  Unfortunately we were... delayed.  I must assume that Abrams did something very foolish before we could arrive."

"You could say that," Gabe began.

"_Yeah.  He tried to exorcise the demon himself!_"  Mary interrupted 

A look of consternation crossed Gabe's face.  "Excuse me, I believe I'm telling the story.  The biggest remaining piece of your Abrams is a tooth embedded in a door jam."

The Sister wrinkled her nose.  "Ew.  He should have waited.  You probably already know that you were possessed by a demon.  The same demon, of course, that possessed Mister Abrams."  

"Oh yeah.  Mary told me that Abrams botched an exorcism spell and turned it loose."  Gabe paused for a moment.  "In the house, when I arrived.  I had some kind of a ... vision?  Watched Abrams blow himself to smithereens, like I was there when it happened.  I saw something in the fire after that.  I think it was the demon."  Gabe shivered.  He scarcely believed that he had stood against the demon in his dream.  

"What about young Mary.  How is it that she ended up in you?" asked the Sister as Poe stepped back into the room.

Gabe sighed and stared at the patch of wood flooring between his feet.  "Abrams killed her."

Poe growled and lunged for Gabe's throat.  A small wave of the Sister's hand cut her off as if she had struck a stone wall.

"Poe!  Behave yourself.  Please, Gabriel, go on."

"_Poor Poe,_" Mary said

"Poor Poe my ass!  She's been trying to kill me all night!" Gabe exclaimed.

"Hmmm..." The Sister furrowed her brows in deep reflection.  "Ahhh.  This will do nicely: Abarach meanma biadh."

A pale shimmering light engulfed Gabe.  He leapt to his feet.

"Do not fear, Gabriel.  This is merely a seeing spell," the Sister said disarmingly.

Poe gasped.  The shimmering likeness of Mary appeared, obscuring Gabe's form.

"Well, that confirms that," the Sister stated in a matter of fact tone as Mary's spectral image faded.

"Mary," exclaimed Poe in a very small voice.  "Baka!  Why did you have to go ahead of us!?"

"_Well, I can't say it was the smartest thing I ever did."  Mary spoke in Gabe's head.  "I thought I could help him, or at least keep him there until the Sister arrived._"  

Gabe repeated Mary's words.

"This mode of communication is far too awkward," the Sister stated.  "Cluinim tua tagradh bruidheann."

Gabe looked around, expecting something to happen.  "What was that all about?"

"_Something about ghost speech, I think,_" Mary said.  "_I can't remember all my Gaelic..._"

"Indeed Mary, you were never as studious as one might have hoped."  

"_You heard me!_"

"Yes, Mary.  Poe and I will be able to hear you now."  The Sister looked toward the vampire.  Poe's expression was at once puzzled and hopeful.  "Poe?"

"I can hear her, inside my head!" Poe replied, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Wait a minute, can you both hear ME now, too!?  As if it wasn't invasive enough having a sixteen year old girl monitor my every thought...."

"_And let me tell you, there's lots of dirty laundry in here.  Half of your mind seems to be a database devoted to girls you went to high school and college with, female co-workers, babes on cheesy TV shows, and oh yes, that woman you passed on the street on the way to work last week ... an awful lot of memory devoted to a lady you only saw for about six seconds.  She's not even that cute, if you ask me.  Believe me, Sister, you don't want to know this stuff._"

Gabe, blushing spectacularly, buried his forehead in his hands.  "Argh!  Get out of my head!  I have rights, constitutional rights, or something."

The Sister chuckled evilly at Gabe's discomfiture.  "Be at ease Gabriel, we can only hear Mary, and then only when she intends to project her thoughts as speech."    

"At least I'm not the only one stuck with your inane teenaged chatter now," Gabe said.

"_Humph!  You'd never of gotten away from the demon if it weren't for me, fingerprint boy!_" 

Gabe closed his eyes.  Twenty-four hours ago he was sitting in his small house in Rosemont, eating a plate of General Tso's Chicken from the Chinese restaurant down the street, contemplating nothing more disturbing than the small patch of peeling paint on his living room ceiling.  He had been blissfully ignorant of such things as demons, vampires, sorcery, and dead girls abiding in his head.  _What else do I not know that I really don't want to find out?_ 

"_Oh there's much more, Gabe.  Much more._"

© 2003 Austin Hale


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## Jodo Kast (Mar 15, 2003)

Nice update, Lamprolign.  You're doing a good job setting up the larger story arc.  Since we're about to start Chapter 2, I figured I would give the thread a gratuitous bump and give readers a chance to jump in while we're still in the early stages of the story arc before your next post.  Comments and criticism are welcome.


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## Lamprolign (Mar 19, 2003)

*new installment 03/19/03*

_I dreamed about killing you again last night
And it felt alright to me
Dying on the banks of Embarcadero skies
I sat and watched you bleed
Buried you alive in a fireworks display
Raining down on me
Your cold, hot blood ran away from me
To the sea._
- Wilco, _Via Chicago_


The sound of keys jingling echoed down the stairwell of the dilapidated tenement building.  A young woman, hardly more than a teenager, sprinted up the stairs.  She stopped at the fourth floor landing and listened carefully.  Living alone in the city had taught her never to rush into anywhere that she couldn't see.  She pushed her shoulder length brown hair away from her ear and listened for several moments.  Silence.  She slowly opened the door to find the corridor empty.  She moved quickly through the dimly lit hall to her door, the old floor creaking with every step.  Jenny Matthews was home.  

She slipped through the door and closed it swiftly behind her, locking the deadbolt and clicking the door chain in place.  A small sigh escaped her lips.  The place was a rat's nest, but it offered far more security than some shadowy corner in Union Station or one of the few other indoor train stations downtown.  Libraries had offered occasional refuge, but wherever she went the police were obliged to move her and any other homeless people along.  For months she had wandered from place to place after running away from her parent's home in Antioch, a small town about a three hour drive north of the city.  The streets were terrifying, but her father had been worse.  Jenny finally ended up in a shelter that asked no questions nor required any conversion to their faith of choice.  They simply helped.  The former church building which housed the shelter was her home for two months.  They helped her find a full time job.  Jenny had felt a small triumph moving into her own apartment.  For the first time in years, she was beginning to believe that things were going to be all right. 

The single lamp lighting the room went dark.  

"Crap!" Jenny exclaimed.

_Power out again?  That's like, what, the third time this month?  Fourth?_  After a moment her eyes began to adjust and dim outlines became visible.  Jenny kept candles on the kitchen counter for the frequent power outages.  It usually took hours before power was returned to the ancient building.  A noise scarcely heard caused her to gasp aloud.  _Jumpy_, she thought, laughing nervously. _ Just the rats in the walls.  That, or the roaches are getting really big._  Then she heard a sound that froze her in place, raising the fine hairs on her neck and goose bumps on her arms.  Breathing.  Someone else was in the apartment.  

__!  She heard it again, behind her.  Jenny reached into her pocket and pulled out the small can of mace they had given her when she left the shelter.  The sound reached her ears again, and she felt warmth on her neck.  Her hands shaking, she whirled around, raising the mace.  A heavy weight slammed into her.  The can of mace flew from her hand.  She never had time to scream.

Sal Colletti sat in front of the television in his third floor apartment.  Final Jeopardy was just about to start.  Dancing cats appeared on the screen, singing about their new and improved litter.  _Who comes up with this crap?  What's a friggin' cat care where it takes a crap?_  Sal drained the last of his beer and the apartment went dark.  

"Perfect."  He crushed the aluminum can, tossed it aside, and felt around the floor beside his chair for the flashlight that he kept for just such occasions.  A loud thump above him gave him start.  He looked up into the dark in time for falling flakes of ceiling paint to land in his eyes.

"Godammit!" he cursed, rubbing his eyes with both hands.  He had seen the girl who moved into the apartment above him a few times around the building.  She looked bookish, but she had legs that wouldn't quit.  He had tried to start a conversation with her, invited her for a beer at his place, but she wouldn't give him the time of day.  When he brushed up against her "accidentally" in the stairwell, the girl recoiled, like he was some kind of pervert.  _ing bitch. Probably screwing some dumb punk_!  

The noise died abrubtly.  _That was quick, Romeo_, he thought with a snort.  He stood in the dark for several minutes, wondering how long the lights would be out this time.  He followed the beam of his flashlight to the refrigerator and returned to his chair with another beer.  He flopped down in the chair, switched the flashlight off and took a long pull from the can of MGD.  Maybe he would pay the little slut upstairs a visit later on, show her what it's like to be with a real man.  A drop of liquid splashed on his furrowed forehead.  

"Dammit! Now what the  is leaking?"  He muttered.

Another drip splashed on his forehead. He stood, switched the flashlight back on, and wiped the wetness from his brow.  He glimpsed his hand as it passed on its way to be wiped on his pants.  Bright red liquid was smeared across his fingers.

"What the?!"

Sal looked up at his ceiling.  Liquid the unmistakable color of fresh blood oozed from the myriad cracks in the plaster.

"!"


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## cthuluftaghn (Mar 21, 2003)

Still going great.  Glad to see the posts start up again.  Still waiting for the big "dwarf in hole" scene.


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## Lamprolign (Mar 21, 2003)

_Six and three is nine
Nine and nine is eighteen
Look there brother baby and you'll see what I've seen                                                  
Hida-hey, baby don't you want to go
Back to that same old place
Sweet home Chicago_ 
- Robert Johnson, _Sweet Home Chicago _

"_This is too weird,_" Mary said.

"We're way beyond weird here, Mar," Poe responded.

"Yep," Gabe muttered.  _You know things are getting funky when even the vampire is freaked out._  Gabe and Poe stood over a bed in the intensive care unit of Northwestern Memorial Hospital, in downtown Chicago.  On the bed lay the motionless body of Mary Johansson.   

"At least you're not connected to a respirator," Gabe said.

"_Small miracles, right? I notice no one bothered to send flowers_."

"I don't think your friends are the flowery type," Gabe mumbled, stealing a sideways glance at Poe.  "A dead rat maybe."  

"I heard that."  Poe bared her teeth and emitted a low growl.  

"_I really thought I was dead_."

"You were," Gabe answered.  "For about sixty seconds."

The door behind them opened.  "Who are you people?" asked a heavyset woman garbed in light green scrubs.

"It's all right, ma'am, I'm with Chicago P.D."  Gabe offered the I.D. badge that hung from his neck.  "We're just following up on this case."

"Oh," the woman said as she peered at Gabe's identification.  Her gaze fell upon Poe.  _Something's wrong with that girl,_ she thought.  _Needs some Vitamin D or sunlight or something.  And if she's a cop, I'm Oprah. _ "Have you figured out who this girl is yet?"

"Unfortunately not, ma'am.  I don't hold out much hope either.  I'm sure you know how many Jane Does we have in the city every year."

"_Laying it on a little thick aren't we?_"  Mary said.  

"Just let me handle this," Gabe muttered beneath his breath.  

"Excuse me?" 

"Oh nothing, we were just finishing up here," Gabe said as he exited the room.

"_I want back in my own head_."

"Not half as much as I want you out of mine," Gabe grumbled and crinkled his nose.  "What smells like dirt?  Oh yeah, it's you.  Just why are you always tagging along after dark?"  

"It's patchouli oil.  And it doesn't smell like dirt, it's dark and exotic," snorted Poe.  "I just want to hang out with Mary, she is my best friend you know.  And I don't trust you to keep her safe.  If you check out, so does she."

Gabe had the distinct feeling that if it weren't for Mary, Poe wouldn't lose much sleep over the thought of his "checking out."  _If she even sleeps, that is_, he thought.  He could scarcely believe that it had been only four days since this whole mess started.  After the battle with the demon, Gabe had given some grudging respect to the voice in his head and resigned himself to the permanency of the arrangement.  Then he found out that Mary's body was still alive, comatose.  His first thought had been, _Great!  Mary can go back to her body and I can get my privacy back._  But, like everything in his new life, Gabe had learned things were not quite that simple.  

*    *    *    *

"I still don't understand."  Gabe was standing again in the Sister's study.  "If she's not dead, then why is she stuck in my head?"

The Sister sat for a moment, contemplating the crackling fire.  "Abrams was trying to exorcise the demon himself."  She paused.  "This was far beyond his ability and his spell was miscast."

"_Like I said, he screwed the pooch, _" Mary said.

"Yes, I suppose that's one rather crude way to put it," the Sister responded, casting a stern look at Gabe/Mary.  "I can only surmise that his exorcism spell loosened the bonds that hold spirit to body.  Unfortunately, Mary was too near the casting.  The article said that the paramedics revived Mary several times on the trip to the hospital.  One of the times that she died her spirit came adrift."  The Sister took a sip from the steaming mug of tea which she cradled.

"I still don't get it," Gabe said.  "How did she end up in my head?"

"After hearing your description of the visions you experienced, I have to believe it is because of latent powers that were awakened within you that night."  The Sister took another sip of tea before continuing.  "Time is not always as linear as we think.  I believe that in a sense you were there when the events you witnessed took place.  A bond was forged between you and Mary at that time."

"Ok, so just cast another spell and put her back."  

"_I wish._"

"I am afraid that it shall not be so simple."  The Sister looked once again into the fire.  "The necessary magics have been long buried."  Her voice dropped.  "And for good reason...." 

*    *    *    *

The ring of his cell phone snapped Gabe back to the present.  He looked at the display.  The office.  He hit the answer button on the phone and brought it to his ear.

"Hello."

"Hi Gabe," the ever-energetic voice of Chris Ebbing bounded from the earpiece.  "Duty calls, bro, they tell me we've got a really messy murder scene to process."

"You know I'm supposed to be off duty."  Gabe grumbled.

"Yeah, but you know they want the best for the really juicy ones.  Time to do the nasty."  

Gabe could imagine Chris's grin on the other end of the line.  Sometimes the kid scared him.  "All right, where's it at?  I'll meet you there."

He opted to ride the L train to the scene, a wise choice since he observed that the crime scene van hadn't made it through the snarl of Chicago traffic.  Poe insisted on tailing him from the hospital.  He looked over his shoulder to tell her to make herself scarce, and when he glanced back a second later she was gone.  _She gives me the creeps._

"_She's one of my best friends,_" Mary said.  "_Watch what you think about her._"  

_Riiight._

The scene was much like any other.  Black and white squad cars, lights still flashing, gathered around the main entrance to a run-down tenement building.  Curious onlookers stood in small groups talking.  Gabe showed his I.D. to the young flatfoot monitoring the front entrance.

"Where?"  He asked.

"Fourth floor."  The young man paused.  "There's some on the third floor, too."

Gabe raised an eyebrow at this, but moved on looking for a stairwell.  Nobody in their right mind would use an elevator in a building such as this one.  Once he located the stairs it was easy to find the scene.  Uniformed officers were milling around in the hallway, a plain clothes cop was standing a short way down the hall.  He grunted acknowledgment of Gabe's approach.

"I didn't expect to see you back to work so soon, Gabe."  Senior Detective Jake Brewer lit a cigarette, pressed the match out between thick, stubby fingers, and dropped it to the floor.  The big man wore a crumpled tan overcoat and a center dent, leather banded hat with a turndown brim.  Brewer looked like he walked out of some cheap crime noir paperback.     

"Better to stay busy."  Gabe answered, "Chris said this one was real messy?"

"I've seen worse.  But not much worse."  Brewer gave a mock bow, bending at his ample waist, and waved his arm in a broad sweep toward the open door.  "After you."

Gabe ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and entered the room.  After years on the job Gabe should have been a real hard case, desensitized to the sights and smells of death.  But it was never easy, not really.  No matter how many bodies, each new victim was another person with a story to tell.  

Between the couch in the middle of the room and the door lay what was left of a body.  From Gabe's perspective he could discern shoulders and a head.  Most of the torso from the collarbones down was missing.  One arm was largely intact.  The other terminated just above the elbow.  Gabe stopped at the edge of the sea of blood surrounding the remains.

"Damn."  Gabe spoke quietly.  This wasn't his first slasher scene, but it was definitely among the worst.  

He walked around the perimeter of the blood pool, examining the floor.  The room went dark.  "Hey!?"

Gabe blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness.  Someone bumped into his arm.  He turned to see the light of the full moon filtering in through the window to glint off of platinum hair.  "Mary?"

The girl looked at him.  Gabe's puzzled expression was mirrored in her face.

Another sound in the room drew their attention.  A young woman with dark hair and fair skin stood between the couch and the door to the hallway.  She clutched something tightly in one hand.  She was inching her way toward the door.  Then they heard another sound, breathing.  The woman whirled toward the sound, toward the corner of the room nearest the window.  A shadow detached from the wall in a blur of movement.  It struck the woman hard, sending her glasses to fly across the room and shatter against a wall.  Both forms crashed to the floor.  The object she held in her hand clattered across the floor, stopping at Gabe's feet.  It was a small can of mace.

Gabe once again stood on the shore of the blood ocean.  The lights were on.  Gabe's chest heaved with rapid breath.  

"Gabe!  Gabe!"  It was Chris Ebbing's voice.  "Wake up, man!  You're zoning on me again."

Gabe looked at the crime scene photographer, then turned his head to the side, half expecting to see Mary.  _Not again,_ Gabe thought....

© 2002 Austin Hale


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## Jodo Kast (Mar 25, 2003)

As usual, excellent update Lamprolign.  I'm just amazed you haven't attracted more readers since returning from the winter hiatus.


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## Nail (Mar 25, 2003)

Jodo Kast said:
			
		

> *As usual, excellent update Lamprolign.  I'm just amazed you haven't attracted more readers since returning from the winter hiatus. *



Uhmm...you attracted me, FWIW, to this story hour.  Excellent stuff!


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## Jodo Kast (Mar 26, 2003)

Cool Nail, welcome aboard!  Great to have a Story Hour regular following the story ... now if we could only get Horacio back ....


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## Lamprolign (Mar 27, 2003)

_In starlit nights I saw you
So cruelly you kissed me
Your lips a magic world
Your sky all hung with jewels
The killing moon
Will come too soon

Fate
Up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to him_
-Echo and the Bunnymen, _The Killing Moon_

"Gabe!"  It was Chris Ebbing's voice.  "Wake up man!  You're zoning on me again."

Gabe looked at the crime scene photographer, then turned his head to the side, half expecting to see Mary.  _Not again_, Gabe thought....

"_Did you...?_" 

"Yeah," Gabe interrupted.

"Dude?  Are you all right?"  Chris's brows were knotted with concern for his friend.  This was just like the Abrams scene.  Gabe had stood without moving, not even blinking, his eyes unfocused, staring straight ahead.  

"I'm fine," Gabe responded.  He took a deep breath and looked around the scene again. 

_Okay, that was bizarre,_ Gabe thought.

"_It was like in the dream,_" said Mary.  "_I was standing next to you, like we were there_."

_Yeah.  Did you see anything?_

"_It was dark and it happened too fast._"  

_These visions seem to leave me with more questions than answers._

Gabe examined the girl's remains.   He was no coroner, but he could tell that the victim's flesh had been torn away rather than cut.  There were no clean incisions, all the edges were jagged.  He looked at her face, relatively unmarred by the devastation wrought on the rest of the body.

"_I know her!_"  

_Care to elaborate?_ Gabe thought.  He was beginning to get the hang of conversing in his head.

"_She lived at the Haven for awhile._"  Mary answered.  "_The Sister thought that she might have some latent abilities but none ever showed up.  We helped her find a job and go out on her own._"  

_Do you remember her name?_ 

"_I think it was Jenny,_" Mary said.  "_Jenny... Matthews._"

Gabe filed all this away for future reference.  He would see if they found any identification in the apartment.  It would raise too many eyebrows if he just pulled the unfortunate girl's name out of thin air.  Gabe's contemplation was interrupted by the arrival of four crime scene technicians.  They began the tedious job of processing the scene.  The first thing was to map the room on graph paper.  Gabe always did this himself, directing the techs to measure the room and the relative positions of all the objects therein.  It was like an archeological dig, only still juicy in this case.

His eyes traced the edge of the blood.  He noted with satisfaction that Merrick was already applying a sterile gauze pad to the blood, properly taking a sample.  Smeared, vaguely human-shaped prints traced a red-brown trail into the darkened bedroom.  Gabe carefully walked from one print to the next.  He stopped at each, examining it carefully.  A thick black fiber, stuck in the coagulated blood, caught his attention.  He stooped over to examine it.  It looked like a strand of hair, or fur.  Gabe marked the location of the hair on the graph paper.  He retrieved a set of forceps and a small zip lock evidence bag from one of the kits that the techs had brought with them.  He carefully retrieved the fiber and held it up to the light.

"Did she have a dog?" Gabe wondered aloud.

"There's no sign of one if she did," Chris answered.

Gabe grunted an acknowledgement and continued to work.  He followed the smeared prints to the room's only window.  It opened onto a fire escape platform.  Gabe found the window unlocked and slid it open.  He strained to see the rusted steel mesh that formed the platform's floor.  

"Pete," Gabe called.

One of the techs looked up from his tasks.

"Light."

The tech tossed a flashlight, which Gabe fumbled and almost dropped out the window before finally catching it.  Its light revealed more blood, barely visible against the ochre metal of the fire escape.  Faint prints led up the stairs.

_This is interesting,_ thought Gabe.  Bored by the painstaking process, Mary's thoughts were elsewhere.  

"_I wonder what Poe's doing?_"

*    *    *    *

Poe moved across the tenement building roof.  At the edge she peered down, tracing the path of the fire escape as it snaked down the side of the building.  _Something about this place seems familiar,_ she thought as she studied the alley below.  Her gaze shifted upward to the roof of the building across the alley, a similarly dilapidated tenement.  

A small red glow caught her attention.  A tall, rangy figure stood on the roof across the alley.  The cherry on his cigarette flared brighter as he took a long drag.  The man was dressed in boxer shorts and a gray t-shirt.  _He must be freezing._  As she watched, he pulled on a pair of jeans, boots and a ribbed black overshirt.    All the while, the man kept his eyes trained on a window two floors below.  Poe glanced down in time to see Gabe Ansgar's head poke from a window.  She looked back across at the man to find his gaze fixed on the investigator.

Poe slipped back from the edge, moving to the far side of the roof.  She turned and looked back at the rooftop across the street.  The man was still standing there.  Silently she sprinted across the roof, leaping in a high arc from the eve to land a dozen paces from where the man stood.  

The man did not react to her sudden appearance.  He continued to look at the other building, watching as Gabriel climbed out onto the fire escape.  He pulled one last time on the cigarette, burning it to a stub, then flicked it over the edge of the roof.  

"Ill met by moonlight."  He spoke in a husky voice with a slight accent.  

Poe felt real trepidation for the first time in many years.  The man was taller than he had appeared from afar, lean and wiry.  Thick black hair covered his head, roughly shorn at shoulder length.  Sideburns traced the edge of his square jaw.  Dark eyebrows traced a prominent brow and almost met in the middle of his forehead.  He was more than a head taller than Poe.  

"That's Shakespeare, little girl.  They say he was the greatest writer in the English language."  The accent was Russian.  His expression was distant, almost wistful.  The pupils in each eye were partially obscured by a reflection of the full moon.  "Of course, there are many great authors in the mother tongue.  Dostoevsky.  Tolstoy.  Chekhov." 

"Chekhov?  Are you one of those trekkie geeks?  Is that why you were up here naked, waiting for the mother ship or something?"  Poe's sarcastic banter faintly masked her unease.  "You look like you'd be game for probing."  

"Where I am from, little girl, such insolence is harshly punished."  

In a blur he closed the distance between them.  His first blow sent Poe flying across the rooftop.  She rolled to her feet in time to receive a fist in the side of her head.  She fell again.  She rolled to a crouch, dropped back on her hands and knocked the man's legs from beneath him with a sweeping kick.

He scarcely touched the asphalt roof before he was once again standing, fists held before him at ready.  He sprang forward, flipping through a handstand to bring both feet into Poe's face.  She leapt sideways, swinging her booted foot up simultaneously to connect with his midriff.  The impact abruptly changed the direction of his flip and spun him a dozen paces toward the roof's edge.  

Poe felt some of her confidence returning.  She hadn't been bested in a fight since she had been turned, even against other vampires.  Her confidence was short lived.  She saw the man land nimbly on his feet and turn to face her once more.  His hands were no longer closed in fists but open, spread fingers terminating in wickedly hooked claws.  He growled deep in his throat.

"The stench of the grave is strong on you, little girl.  Be careful, or I'll send you back there to stay." 

Poe's lips pulled back in a snarl, trepidation transformed to anger.  She leapt at her assailant.  She caught his clawed hands, holding them up and away from her.  She lunged for his throat, her canines gleaming in the moonlight. He fell backwards, folding his legs between himself and Poe.  The wind was knocked from her when he kicked out, sending her up and over.  She landed flat on her back.  _Shimatta!  What is this thing!_ 

Poe felt the vibration of his charging footsteps through the roof's surface.  She flipped to her feet.  She hadn't recovered her balance when the next blow fell.  Her leather coat and vest ripped easily.  She felt hot blood running down her abdomen.  Wincing against the pain she jumped, aiming a kick to her assailant's face.  The impact staggered him.  

"Playtime is over," he said with a sneering grin filled with crooked knifelike teeth.  

Poe shifted to the left to barely avoid a raking swipe of his claws.  She brought both hands, clasped together, down on his passing head.  He stopped in place and spun, catching Poe off balance.  With a roar he brought his left arm up and around, raking wicked claws across her stomach.  Pain exploded through Poe's body.  The force of the blow lifted her off her feet.  She felt weightless, heard wind rushing past her ears.  Her trajectory carried her over the edge of the roof.  She was falling, her arms outstretched and her long coat flapping about her.  Above her the man stood silhouetted in the full moon, his face a shadow broken only by a toothy grin.

© 2003 Austin Hale


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## Lamprolign (Mar 27, 2003)

***Author's note:  Make no assumptions concerning the nature of vampires, monsters or dandelions in the _First Sight_ universe.  It's a whole new world... (insert evil laugh here)...


...And all trekkie hate mail should be addressed to Jodo Kast


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## WisdomLikeSilence (Mar 28, 2003)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> *Above her the man stood silhouetted in the full moon, his face a shadow broken only by a toothy grin.
> © 2003 Austin Hale *




Sure sounds like a werewolf to me.

But I'll try not to make any assumptions  

Fun story hour.  I'm always a sucker for modern-day campaigns. 

-WLS


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## Lamprolign (Mar 28, 2003)

Thanks for commenting!  Maybe it is maybe it isn't... but I was refering more to relative abilities.  Such as dandelions that have six inch fangs and eat small children.  heh


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## Lamprolign (Apr 2, 2003)

_Meeting you with a view to a kill 
Face to face in secret places feel the chill
Nightfall covers me but you know the plans I'm making
Still over sea could it be the whole earth opening wide
A sacred why? A mystery gaping inside..._
Duran Duran, _View To A Kill_

Poe lay staring at the night sky.  The stars were occluded here, choked out by light pollution from streetlamps and windows.  _Humans_, thought Poe, _eventually destroy everything beautiful_.  She tried to move, but was rebuked by the burning pain in her stomach.  She clenched her jaw and waited for the healing to begin.  After being turned, Poe found that any wound she suffered would repair itself.  Her sense of pain was just as acute as it had been when she was a human, however.  She could survive injuries that would kill any mortal, but she must endure pain that would drive a man mad.  She bit down hard against the pain, accidentally biting the inside of her lip hard enough to draw blood.  _So there's a downside to fangs after all_.  Slowly a warm tingling sensation effused her torso.  The tingling gradually spread to her limbs, and the pain eventually dissipated. 

She was hungry.  She was always hungry after healing.  She needed to feed, and soon.  Her hunger pushed all other thoughts aside, even her burning curiosity about the stranger on the rooftop.  Whoever he was, he was long gone.  She had watched him leap from building to building, escaping into the night.  She rose and walked slowly into the shadows.  There would be something to satisfy her hunger close by...

*    *    *    *

Gabe pulled his head back inside after a cursory examination of the fire escape landing.

"Jake."

"Yeah," The stocky detective grunted upon entering the room.

"There's a blood trail going up the fire escape stairs.  Looks like the perp went to the roof or another room above."

"Way ahead of you, Ansgar."  Jake Brewer rested his big, stubby hands on the window sill and peered outside.  The ash on his cigarette had grown long, and it crumbled to the landing when exposed to the night breeze.  "The trail ends at the next landing.  We searched the roof while waiting on you to grace us with your presence."  

"And?"

"Nuthin'.  Our guy must've cleaned his shoes off before he got up there," Jake said.  "He probably came back down through the stairwell.  The door to the roof was unlocked.  Humph.  Pretty typical in a dump like this.  I don't think the damn thing even works."

"Pete, there's some blood residue on the fire escape," Gabe said to the nearest tech.  "Get samples there, too."  He turned back to Jake.  "Think I'll have a look up top.  Care to join me, Jake?"

"Humph." 

*      *      *      *

"_Well that was productive_," Mary said with her normal sarcasm.  "_Do you ever catch anybody?_"

"For your information, smartass, there were volumes of information there.  You just have to know what to look for."Gabe was walking away from the scene alone.  At least as alone as you could be when a teenage girl resided in your head.  He looked at the time on his cell phone.  1:03 AM.  _, it's late. _

Gabe took the L back to the downtown loop.  From there he caught the Blue Line to Rosemont.  It was closing in on three in the morning when he finally made it back to his modest home.

"_You should try sleeping sometime,_"  Mary yawned.  "_It's good for you._"

"Yeah."

Without bothering to take off his coat or shoes, Gabe flopped on the threadbare couch.  He was asleep in seconds.  

Sunlight streaming through the wide front window awakened Gabe later that morning.  He winced at the stiffness of his limbs.  The stitches in his temple itched fiercely.  The doctor at the emergency room told him the wound would scar because he had waited too long to have it attended.  _As if I had a choice,_ he thought as he gingerly rubbed his forehead.  But it could have been worse, much worse.  All things considered, he was pretty lucky to have walked away from taking a bullet in the head, even if it did just graze him.

"_Someone had some interesting dreams last night,_" Mary said with mock revulsion.  "_Poe told me that's all you guys ever think about, but I didn't think she meant, like, literally._"  

"Dreams too, huh?  Guess I can't say I'm surprised, can't keep anything to myself these days.  Well, you know what, just excuse the hell out of my subconscious mind, would ya?" Gabe grumbled.."  Gabe glanced at the clock.  10:42.  "I'm going to take a shower now.  I'd appreciate some privacy.  And no comments!"  Gabe was careful not to undress around mirrors, and was careful where he trained his eyes while he bathed.  Mary could see whatever he could, and the idea of giving a teenage girl a peep show made him extremely uncomfortable.  

By the time Gabe finished his morning routine of showering, draining a fresh pot of coffee, and polishing off whatever edible leftovers lingered in the fridge, it was almost noon.  He was thinking about heading to the office when his cell phone rang.  He looked at the display, it was Chris Ebbing's home number.

"Hello," Gabe answered reluctantly.  Chris calling was never the harbinger of a relaxing day.

"Hey man, how's it going?"  Chris never sounded anything but cheerful.  The man could snap off pictures of a guy with his big toe wrapped around the trigger of a shotgun and the back of his head plastered across the wall, and still sound like some damn perky surfer from California.  This morning it grated on Gabe's nerves a more than usual.

"It's been better."

"I thought you might want to know that there was another murder last night, almost identical to the job we worked up."  Chris paused for a moment.  "Same M.O.  Apartment building over on Lake Shore Drive.  Ugly, dude."  

Gabe's thoughts immediately went to Abrams and demons.  He shook his head.  Not every nutjob out there was possessed by a demon.  There were plenty of normal everyday psychopaths to go around.  Still, this wasn't good.  Multiple murders in one night was nothing out of the ordinary.  Two murders as grisly as the one he'd seen were, though, and if they were indeed identical, the papers would be talking about a serial killer.  

"That's great, Chris.  Thanks for starting my day off on a good note."  

"No problem, man," Chris replied undaunted.  "See you at the office."  

Gabe placed the phone back on the table.  "I need a vacation," he mumbled.  

"_It might make your company a little more bearable._"  Mary chimed in.  "_You know, Poe never did catch up with us again last night._"

"For that I am eternally grateful."

*      *      *      *

Tim Sweeney rocked back in the desk chair, his ample weight causing it to complain noisily.  He reached for the handkerchief he carried in his shirt pocket to wipe an ever-runny nose.  _Damned cold weather_, he thought.  It was his fifth year as a desk clerk at the Ferguson Hotel on South Cicero.  He looked around the familiar lobby.  Flaking paint on once grand columns and cracked tiles on the floor spoke of years of neglect.  During prohibition the place had been first-rate, the speak-easy housed in the basement providing a steady flow of customers.  Tim sighed, brushing gray hair out of his face and imagining days gone by.  He was startled from his daydreams when a tall, rangy man strode through the hotel lobby doors.  

"Room five twenty-four is not to be disturbed today," the man said in an accented voice, not waiting for a reply he walked toward the elevator.

The desk clerk watched him go.  _._  Tim had a fleeting image of the elevator crashing from the fifth floor with the unfortunate guest still inside.  The thought brought a slight smile to his face.

After some small shaking and groaning the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor.  The man stepped out and walked slowly to his room.  He took the key from his pocket and opened the door, throwing the deadbolt and hooking the chain behind him.  Piotr sat down heavily in the room's only chair and laughed softly.  _Two in one night, and a real scrape._  He smiled broadly, remembering the vampire.  _Too bad that I had an appointment to keep, little girl, or we could have danced a while longer._  His smile changed to a grimace when he twisted to remove his shoes.  He had not escaped unscathed in the confrontation.  

He rose from the chair and walked to the suitcase lying on the floor under the single window.  He opened it and removed a plain manila envelope.  Inside was a sheaf of papers.  The first sheet had the name Jennifer Matthews at the top, below which was a picture followed by lines of text spelling out address, place of work, and other useless information.  Below that was another bio-sheet.  This one had the name Charles Druyon at the top and was laid out in the same way as the first.  Piotr smiled.  He had really enjoyed killing this one.  _Fat, rich, American bastard._  His smile deepened.  The man had offered up some small resistance.  A witch of his caliber was nothing next to the vampire from the rooftop, but still enough to work up an appetite.  

"Who's next?" he wondered aloud, pulling out the third bundle of papers.  He looked at the first page.  "Asher Russell."  Piotr tossed the papers in the chair.  _Enjoy your day, Asher Russell,_ he thought as he laid down on top of the bedspread.  _It will be your last._


© 2003 Austin Hale


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## Velenne (Apr 2, 2003)

DAMN!  Just...damn!  I sat down to read this SH thinking I was in for another brief, lackluster attempt at a Buffy ripoff.  Boy am I happy to be wrong!  

Consider me hooked!


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## Lamprolign (Apr 2, 2003)

Many thanks for the good words!    We've already started on the next installment, look for it by Wednesday or Thursday of next week.  Thanks again!


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## fenzer (Apr 4, 2003)

Incredible story guys, I can't wait for the next update.


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## Lamprolign (Apr 4, 2003)

*Jodo Kast posts narrative*

I just reviewed a post to the story that Jodo Kast penned.  Most excellent as usual but very dark and edgy.  There will be many, many smiley faces in this post.  It pushes the outer bounderies of a PG13 rating.  'Tis very good but read with caution, not for those who are easily offended.  Jodo will be posting shortly...


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## Jodo Kast (Apr 4, 2003)

_I hear something there
In the shadow down the hall
O you were a vampire
And now I am nothing at all._
-Concrete Blonde, _Bloodletting (The Vampire Song)_


Sal Colletti walks down the dark street, his threadbare winter coat wrapped tightly about him.  He can't sleep, not with the police stomping around in the apartment above him.  _Stupid little bitch probably pissed somebody off with that attitude, like she's too good for anybody,_ he thinks.  _Probably wouldn't put out or something._

Sal is mostly bald, curly black islands above each ear the only remnants of what was once a thick head of hair.  His ample gut hangs over his belt, and in the last few years he's developed a wicked set of man-tits.  His arms and legs are spindly and awkward looking, out of place on his keg-shaped torso.  He was handsome once, when he played third base and captained his high school baseball team to state semifinals.  That was long ago.  There are no mirrors in Sal's apartment -- he prefers to remember himself that way, wiry, long-haired, a rebel in blue jeans and square-toed engineer boots.  From time to time he catches a glimpse of his true form on the face of a woman on the street or at the market, sometimes in a snide smile or a disgusted shake of the head, but most often in the way their eyes just pass him over like discarded trash.  

Tonight Sal wanders down Piccine Street, his eyes flicking predatorily from side to side.  He can usually find a hooker down in this part of town, a cheap one with glassy, drugged eyes that couldn't give a  what he looks like.  He's got a ten in his pocket.  He knows it'll cost him at least twenty for a blowjob, and he'll have to haggle just to get the price that low.  When it comes time to pay, he'll drop the crumpled up bill on the ground, and if the slut complains that he stiffed her, she'll get what's coming to her.  And if she asks for cash up front, well, he might just take what he wants for free.  The thought makes him hard, and he caresses the butterfly knife he keeps inside his coat.  He carries it for defense -- this is a rough part of town -- but if he needs to use it on a bitch, he won't hesitate.  In fact, he's sort of hoping he gets the chance.

It's late when he finds a suitable girl.  His requirements are that the girl be young and alone.  He doesn't want to deal with any pimp.  A pimp might take offense if Sal underpays or stiffs his girl, and might get more than a little hot under the collar if Sal roughs up the goods.  No, Sal prefers to work with independent contractors.  And man if this one isn't something else.

She's walking down the street toward him, tall and thin, her head turned down so that long black hair falls over her face.  She's wearing a long black overcoat, but it's open, and underneath she's got on a short black skirt and a half-shirt.  She's all legs in sexy black calf-high boots.  She has some blood and dirt on her shirt, what looks like a nasty red scar across her stomach, and when she looks up he sees a shiner raised under one eye.  Sal smiles.  _Asian,_ he thinks with great pleasure, _and she likes it rough, by the looks of her.  This is going to be fun._

"Hey, you wanna party?"  Sal's breathing is heavy as he asks, his hands squeezing into balled up fists inside his coat pockets, opening, closing again.  It's freezing, but he's sweating fat beads of perspiration that roll down his head and nose.  "You wanna date?"

The girl lowers her head again, mutters something beneath her breath, and keeps walking.  Sal feels his cheeks growing hot, his heart beats loud in his ears, and his fists clench together tight enough that his fingernails draw little bloody half-moons in his palms. 

"What did you say, bitch?"
The girl stops and lifts her head slightly, her hair falling to the side so that one gleaming eye is revealed.  "Loser.  I said what a ing loser.  L-O-S-E-R."   

Carol spoke to him like that once, just one time, and he had put her in a hospital for three months.  If the bitch hadn't taken out a restraining order and moved back in with her folks (her old man was a hardass vet with a gun collection that some third-world militaries would envy), Sal might have finished the job.  Thoughts of his ex-wife cause a rage to well up inside Sal, a hot cacophony of hate drowning out rational thought.  

The girl turns down a side alley.  Sal knows it's a dead end.  He's breathing hard, full of hateful lust.  He marches down the alley after her and grabs the girl by her arm.  With his other hand he grips the cold steel of his butterfly knife, bringing it out for the girl to see. 

"You see this, bitch?" he asks, his face pressed close to hers.

"Ugh.  Watch the breath, pig, you smell like a garlic factory."  She giggles.  "Thank God all the legends aren't true."

Sal is now angry beyond reckoning, and he twists the girl's arm around behind her back, forcing it up hard enough to break it.  "You goddam lippy little slut, you are going to get down on your knees and you are going to take what I give you in your mouth, or I swear I will cut your ing face off!"  Sal pushes the girl's arm hard, trying to force her to her knees, and brings the blade of his knife up to her throat.  Whether or not she does as he says, he has already decided that he's going to teach this bitch, this sharp-tongued stray alley cat, a lesson she's never going to forget.  _I see the way you look at me, I'm going to cut your ing eyes out you whore._

Suddenly her arm is twisting beneath his grip, wresting his arm around with amazing strength and wrenching it until a gruesome splintering sound erupts in the alley.  The knife clatters to the ground.  Sal is screaming and his pants are growing dark with a spreading pool of piss.  The girl places her free hand on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees, and with the other hand pulls his shattered arm high and twists it around, tearing the bone free of its socket.  When she releases it, the limb flops listlessly to the ground, hanging as if it were made of rubber.  She bends over, bringing her face close to his, and licks her lips.

"You sure you want to put something in my mouth, big fella?  Hope you don't mind if I use my teeth!"  Her lips peel back, baring long, wicked fangs that shine bright in the dark alley.  

Sal's eyes bulge until it seems certain they will escape his face.  His hard-on is long gone and forgotten.  All he can do is whimper like a small child.  "No, no, no, please, no, God no...."  

_This is going to be so gross_, Poe thinks as she forces his head to the side, exposing his neck.  Her blood courses hot through her body, carrying in it a sickness that threatens to consume her if she does not feed.  Her hunger wins out over her revulsion.  She closes her eyes and, with the swiftness of a snake striking, buries her fangs in his neck.   

© 2003 Austin Hale


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## Lamprolign (Apr 10, 2003)

_Heard a Bang Bang Bang, and down you go,
It's just a job I do,
Cos the harder you run the harder you fall,
I'm coming down hard on you, hard on you.
I got a name, I got a number, I got a line on you
I got a name, I got a number, I'm coming after you_
-Genesis, _Just A Job To Do _

Gabe sat watching the cityscape roll past the train's windows.  He was still a little dazed.  He had arrived at the office to a demand for all of his unfinished case files.  When he had stared quizzically back at his supervisor she had explained to him that he was being suspended with pay until the Jack Casey investigation was finished.  

"_Well,_" Mary began, "_you said you needed a vacation._"

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind," Gabe answered.

"_It can't be all that bad.  I mean, they're still paying you.  And they didn't say you were a suspect or anything._"

"They don't have to.  Suspended, with or without pay still means pretty much the same thing," Gabe said.  "It's not like any of this is easy to explain.  Hell, I don't understand it myself."  He let out a long sigh.

Gabe looked around inside the train car.  Several people were staring at him, and there was a barren expanse of vacant seats around him in the otherwise crowded train.  

"Well, this is just great," Gabe muttered.  "There's always some crazy guy talking to himself on the train.  Now I'm that guy!"

"_Not my fault, you can always just_ think_ your answers._"

Gabe noticed a boy of about fourteen staring at him intently.  The youth had long bleached hair that was pulled out in myriad spikes.  His face was covered in piercings.  A chain ran from a ring in his ear to a similar one in his nose.  

"Yes!  There are voices in my head!  They talk to me!" Gabe yelled.

The boy looked away quickly.  _Wonderful, even the freaks think I'm a freak.  _

*     *     *     *

It was unseasonably warm for the latter half of January.  Gabe walked with his over coat unbuttoned and was still comfortably warm.  It was a long walk from the nearest train station to the New Haven Coalition for the Homeless.  Mary badgered him until he agreed to go there that afternoon. _ It's not like I have anything better to do,_ he thought.  

The building looked different in the afternoon sun.  One could mistakenly believe that it was still a church.  It was the first time that Gabe entered through the front doors.  He walked through an enclosed vestibule, the narthex of the old church, before entering the cavernous main room.  Here where once the faithful gathered for prayer, the hungry now gathered for food.  The pews that once faced the altar were now turned to run parallel with long tables that filled the room.  Suppertime was near.  The smells were enough to make Gabe salivate.  Somehow he never expected appetizing meals to be served in a shelter, but then he never expected to find witches or vampires in one either.

Gabe made his way between the tables and on toward the opposite end of the room.  He paused where a narrower room bisected the main hall.  The altar still stood at the far eastern end of the room.  Above it on the wall hung a simple unadorned cross.  Into the southern end of the bisecting room Gabe walked.  In the center of the eastern wall of this room was a door which opened onto a flight of stairs leading down.  He had never come this way before, yet somehow he new exactly where he was going.  Odd, Gabe thought.

"_We are sharing dreams you know,_" Mary said.  "_You've picked up several of my memories.  Of course, I've seen a lot more of yours.  More than I ever wanted to, believe me._"  

Gabe shook his head wearily and navigated his way unerringly to the Sister's study.  He was in the process of raising his hand to knock on the door when it opened.  The Sister sat in her usual chair near the hearth.  She looked up from the heavy tome that sat upon her lap to give Gabe a welcoming smile.

"Do come in Gabriel, Mary," she spoke.

"_Hello!_"  Mary's perky greeting rubbed Gabe's already raw nerves.

"Hi," Gabe said without enthusiasm.  

"Have a seat, Gabriel."

"Thanks."  Gabe sat in the chair nearest to the window.  He glanced through the window at the walled graveyard behind the church.  "Wonderful view," he commented before turning back to face the Sister.

"Actually it is," the Sister responded.  "When spring comes it will be alive with color."

"_Do you remember Jenny Matthews?_" Mary asked.

"Yes."  The Sister's smile was replaced by an unreadable expression.

"_She was killed last night._"

The Sister closed her eyes and a heavy sigh escaped her lips.  "How?"

"She was murdered," Gabe said.  "It was a pretty ugly scene."

"_It looked like she was ripped apart._"  

_I wasn't going to go into details Mary,_ Gabe admonished silently.

"This is disturbing news," said the Sister.  She rose and replaced the tome that she had been reading in a vacant spot on the shelves lining the room's walls.

"_You originally thought she might have powers, didn't you?_" asked Mary. 

"Yes," she answered, "though none ever expressed themselves."  The Sister stood gazing through the window.  The snow had begun melting in the afternoon sun, exposing patches of brown grass and granite grave markers.  Unheard by those inside a wind stirred the leafless branches that in summer would form a dense canopy.

"_Um_..." Mary began, "_where is Poe?_"

"I had hoped you would know.  She did not return before dawn."

*     *    *    *

Asher Russell stepped out into a brisk south wind on West Chicago Avenue.  He zipped up the weathered bomber jacket that along with a plain button-up shirt, moderately faded jeans and hiking boots was his usual attire.  Brilliant blue eyes peered from beneath a mop of unruly blond hair.  Barely visible freckles flanked a smallish nose.  Most would consider him attractive, though not exceptional.  Asher walked briskly.  The weather report called for mixed sleet and snow that evening, and although he considered himself quite the adventurer he still didn't fancy getting drenched and frozen before bedtime.  He adjusted his satchel strap across his shoulder.  Several unfinished articles resided on the hard drive of the laptop computer that was contained therein.  His editor would skin him alive if he was late submitting again.  Practically owning the crime page byline had its disadvantages...

It was the same routine every night, walk to the Chicago Avenue stop of the Blue Line, ride downtown to the loop and catch the Brown Line north to his flat in an old brick warehouse.  The neighborhood was rough enough to give the last bit of the trip home a little edge, but it wasn't really dangerous.  Just the way Asher liked things, some excitement with an escape route built in.  

Asher was jolted from his mental meanderings when someone bumped into him hard enough to make him stumble.

"Excuse me," said a man with an accent that Asher couldn't place immediately.

The man walked on before Asher could respond.  He shrugged his shoulders and hurried off.  If he was lucky he'd make the 6:21 train and not have to wait the extra twenty minutes for the next train. 

Asher reached the train stop with a few minutes to spare.  He stood staring at nothing while he waited.  He had a lot to ponder, the story he was working on was the best, or maybe the worst, he had ever covered.  The details around the Abrams killings were sketchy and extremely bizarre, and the story was on the tongues of every citizen in the greater Chicago area.  The national news was rooting around, and there was already a low murmur that Hollywood was planning a suspense film based on the murders.  _If I can pull this one off, it has Pulitzer written all over it._  Asher grinned to himself as  he rocked back and forth on his heels.  He didn't notice the tall rangy man concealed in shadows at the edge of the platform.  Nor did he notice that same man board the train when it stopped, or the intent stare when the man sat in the seat across the aisle.... 

© 2003 Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Apr 10, 2003)

This is some really wonderful writing guys.  Thanks for a great story.  I'm on the edge of my seat here.  Please post soon.


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## WisdomLikeSilence (Apr 11, 2003)

Not only good writing, but a great story.



			
				Jodo Kast said:
			
		

> * Would this Story Hour make for a good animated feature, animated series, movie or comic book? *




I can see it very easily as a graphic novel.  The style and tone fit the medium.  I think it might be too bloody for a movie, and an animated series probably requires too many resources.  If you're really interested in publishing, I'd recommend the comics route.

Not, of course, that I have any special insight.

-WLS


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## Lamprolign (Apr 11, 2003)

Many thanks for the kind words.  We are trying our best to get at least one post online per week.  If the muses are speaking freely we might manage two per week, but that'll be the exception rather than the rule.


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## Broccli_Head (Apr 15, 2003)

You have another fan, guys!

really enjoying your story and the modern, horror elements.

thanks


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## Lamprolign (Apr 18, 2003)

014

_Bright is the moon high in starlight
Chill is the air cold as steel tonight
We shift
Call of the wild
Fear in your eyes
It's later than you realized_
- Metallica, _Of Wolf And Man_

_I should be at home working_.  Asher Russell tipped back his third Killian's Irish Red in thirty minutes at the Metro.  Just off the great hall of Union Station, this was one of his favorite downtown haunts.  The nostalgia here conjured images of Bogart, sitting in a shadowy booth with his fedora pulled low.  _Here's looking at you, kid_.  Asher downed the beer and slid his empty mug to the bartender, a thick man with a square jaw who could have played the heavy in one of those old films. 

_To have lived then_, Asher thought, and started in on his fourth. 

***** 

Piotr gazed through the plate glass separating the circular bar from a room with a pool table.  Nearby, a tall, painfully thin man circled the empty pool table with cue in hand.  Occasionally he would stop, stoop, and line up a shot on a ball that did not exist.  The old man's stark white beard contrasted his dark brown skin.  Deep grooves lined his face, vertical crags beneath his eyes that looked as if they had been worn by corrosive tears.  The man wore a long black coat, probably wool, and black trousers that fell over worn work boots.  Every so often he paused to gaze through the plate glass with a warm smile for the patrons sitting inside.  But he would always return to the empty table, contemplating a game only he could see. 

The old man's gaze fell on Piotr each time he looked inside, lingering for a moment.  Most people wilted under Piotr's intense glare, few ever holding his gaze for more than an instant.  When the old man's eyes met Piotr's, however, he simply stared out from that weathered face and smiled his kindly smile.  Though Piotr knew he could break the man's neck as easily as he might shake his hand, that stare unnerved the big Russian.  

_Crazy old man_, Piotr thought and shrugged, feeling a bit foolish and more than a little annoyed.  He shifted his attention back to the young man pounding mugs of reddish colored beer.  Thus far his quarry had remained in crowded public places, surrounded by too many witnesses.  Piotr was a patient hunter, however.  Patience was the key to success in his profession.  Watch.  Wait.  Stalk.  Kill.  Vanish.  He swallowed a shot of Smirnoff and shook his head as he observed the antics of his prey on the other side of the glass.  _This one will offer no challenge_, he thought with a hint of disappointment. 

* * * * 

"… I ain't got no CIGARETTES…."

"Hey pal!  Hey buddy, you got to get off the bar!" 

"Eh?"  Asher glanced down just long enough to make out the stern face of the meaty barkeep before returning to his performance.  He was just getting to the best part.

"I know every engineer on every train, all of their children, and all of their names…."  Three middle-aged women, well heeled and attractive, sent up encouraging catcalls, and one of them tried to stuff a dollar bill into Asher's pants.  A group of businessmen yelled for him to shut the hell up, while an old-timer at the end of the bar nodded approvingly in time to Asher's singing. 

"Look clown, if you don't get down from there right now I'm going to throw your skinny ass down myself!"   

"Why have karaoke night," Asher mumbled, barely coherent, "if you're not even gonna let a fella sing."  By some miracle he managed to scramble down without spilling the half drained mug he clasped tightly in one hand.  

"We don't have a karaoke night, jackass.  There's no music.  That's a beer you're singing into, not a microphone.  I'm tossing you out, you drunk bastard!"

"I'm not drunk, sir," Asher replied with a comically serious expression.  "I've been over served."

The bartender rolled up his sleeves and started around the bar.  Asher donned his bomber jacket and tucked his unruly mop of blonde hair under a Cubs ball cap as he hustled through the door.  He was going to need to drink a lot of water if he didn't want to wake up with a hangover.  He paused for a second in the Station's great hall, staring like a tourist, but moved on quickly when it occurred to him that the bartender might have called the police.  He hurried through the Station and stepped out into the night. 

The temperature had dropped below freezing and flurries fell from an invisible sky.  A glistening coat of ice bore witness to the freezing rain that had fallen earlier in the evening.  Pedestrian and vehicle traffic moved briskly on Adams at this late hour.  Asher walked east, hands shoved in his coat pockets.  The closest stop for the loop was Quincy, too far away for his liking tonight.  _Why do I do this to myself_, he wondered before hustling on, the cold northwest wind quickening his steps. 

* * * * 

Piotr watched his target walk east on Adams.  He would have to follow until Asher left the densely peopled downtown area.  He stayed twenty paces behind, careful not to lose sight since the wind robbed him of his prey's scent.  Watching the reporter's stumbling, staggering progress, Piotr grinned.  _At least you enjoyed your last night_.  He quickened his pace, following the reporter toward a bridge crossing the Chicago River. 

* * * * 

Asher's buzz was beginning to wear off.  _I'm going to need to drink a lot of water if I don't want one hell of a hangover tomorrow_.  His thoughts turned to his editor's admonition that he had better have something on the Abrams story ready for tomorrow's evening edition, or else.  His editor said "or else" frequently.  Asher had yet to learn exactly what his editor meant by it, but he didn't particularly care to find out, either. 

"Well crap," Asher muttered.  In his musings he had taken the wrong turn off of Adams and found himself in a narrow alley.  He looked around, shrugged his shoulders, and kept walking.  He was still headed in the right general direction. 

* * * * 

Piotr stopped and squatted on his haunches at the entrance to the narrow alley, his face held high to the wind.  He smelled the booze on his prey, of course, but there was something else.  For the first time on this hunt, he smelled fear on Asher Russell.  It was a good smell, high and pungent.  Piotr smiled.  _Nowhere to run, comrade.  Your good fortune has come to an end_.   

* * * * 

Gooseflesh rose on Asher's neck, and a strange thought crossed his mind.  _A shadow just fell across my grave_.  He laughed nervously at the odd notion, but quickened his pace nonetheless.  A glance over his shoulder revealed nothing.  _Great, now I'm drunk and paranoid_.  But he could not shake the feeling that somewhere in the shadows someone watched him. 

* * * * 

There was always the pain.  Bones warped, shifted, realigned.  Muscles stretched and writhed, skin quivered, body hair grew thick and coarse.  Piotr raised his arms skyward, long bestial claws outstretched, caught in the throes of agony and ecstasy.  There was always the pain, but with it came the power.  He would not risk a full transformation with so many people nearby, but against his drunken quarry this form would more than suffice.  A low growl in his throat, the man-beast that had been Piotr bolted down the alley with long running strides and leaps.

* * * * 

_Ok, that time I definitely heard something_.  Asher looked back in time to see a large silhouette bound over a fallen trashcan in the alley, land silently, then charge toward him in long strides, hunkered low to the ground.  _What the…!?_  For a crazy instant Asher froze, staring at the impossible beast that bore down on him.  Then instinct took over.  He whirled and sprinted toward the distant end of the alley, the wind catching the brim of his cap and peeling it from his head.  Behind him the sounds of his pursuer's footfalls grew louder, the fast, rhythmic beat matching his pounding heart.  Asher's legs pumped as they had not in years.  Rational thought rebelled at the thought of the beast after him, a creature that could not possibly exist.  But deep in the corners of his mind, something long denied stirred. 

High above, a fire escape, decayed from years of neglect, shuddered slightly in the wind.  As Asher passed the fire escape swayed side to side, clanging loudly against brick wall.  The structure groaned in protest.  Rivets, more rust than steel, popped from their moorings. 

Asher hazarded a glance over his shoulder.  The beast was overtaking him.  He could see a human face, but the bones and muscle seemed to swim beneath the skin, transforming the face into a shifting blur of hair and feral eyes and impossibly large teeth.  

__!  He had no breath to curse aloud.  Adrenaline flooded his body.  The sound of twisting steel caused him to risk another look behind.  The ancient fire escape tore free from the wall, collapsing just as the beast passed under it.  There was a deafening crash, and the monster disappeared beneath two tons of tangled steel.  His attention fixed behind him, Asher did not see the raised manhole cover that caught his foot and sent him sprawling face first into the alley.  His chin hit pavement with enough force to draw blood and chip a front tooth.  Bright lights exploded in his vision, and it took a second for him to clear his head.  All was silent for a moment, but then behind him the steel began to groan and move. 

It was still alive. 

Asher pushed himself to his feet with palms that were raw from his spill to the asphalt.  Ahead he saw the mouth of the alley, light, people and cars moving down a busy street.  He ran as fast as he could, his left knee painfully protesting.  The knee of his jeans was torn out, and he was bleeding there too. 

A roar echoed through the night as the beast freed itself.  No longer manlike at all, it ran on four legs.  The face had become fixed, a bestial muzzle bristling with fangs.  Wiry gray fur covered it in an uneven coat, thicker along the spine.  It was the perfect killer, knowing neither pain nor fear, only the thrill of the hunt. 

Asher skidded around the corner, out of the alley and onto a well-lit street.  He was not certain where he was.  The streetlamps and taillights of cars blurred in his vision.  Engine noise and honking horns and voices were drowned out by his pounding heart and ragged breathing.  Asher ran alongside the row of parked cars that lined the street. 

The creature barreled out of the alley, taking a short bound and gathering itself for the leap that would bring down its prey.  Just then, a car door opened in its path.  Unable to stop, the beast slammed into the door, bending it backwards on its hinges in a clamor of popping steel and shattering glass.  The creature sat back on its haunches and shook its head.  Somewhere deep in its brain, a small scrap of human thought registered that the car was empty.  The beast sprang to its feat and leapt back into pursuit. 

Asher ran in terror.  Ahead he saw a CTA bus pulling to a stop.  The side was plastered with a banner ad for his newspaper.  "START YOUR MORNING WITH THE TRIBUNE."  _I'll be lucky if I live to see the morning at all, much less read the paper._  He poured everything he had left into a last sprint. 

The hiss of releasing airbrakes announced the bus's slow departure.  Asher ran alongside it as it rolled away.  Just when he thought he would surely collapse there on the street, the door in front of the bus' rear wheel folded open.  Asher jumped, catching the handrail and pulling himself up into the bus.  Distracted by traffic, the bus driver had not noticed his entrance.  Several passengers glanced curiously at the disheveled man, but looked away soon.    

Asher hauled himself into a seat, panting heavily with fear and exertion.   

_What the hell was that thing_?!  He glanced around the bus.  It was unusually crowded for this time of night, but then it was a Friday. 

Asher breathed a little easier.  He had escaped.  He did not know what he had escaped from, but he was safe.  By morning, he might convince himself that it had just been a stray dog.  He looked out the back window, and his heart skipped a beat.  Barreling down the sidewalk, the creature gained on the bus as it slowed for the next stop. 

"Don't stop!" Asher yelled, bolting toward the front of the bus. 

Looking in his mirror, the driver saw what seemed to be a crazy man screaming up the aisle.  Panicked, the driver stomped the brakes. 

The sudden stop sent Asher reeling off balance to the front of the bus, slamming into rows of seats along the way.  He spilled forward and tumbled into a heap of limbs in the front stairwell.  The bus driver, an old man with close-cropped white hair and thick glasses, looked down his nose disapprovingly at Asher.  Just then, the bus' rear door exploded inward, followed by a nightmarish creature that leapt in from the night.  A woman screamed in a high, shrill voice, and soon all the passengers were on their feet, gripped in panic. 

Asher disentangled himself and saw the driver's terrified expression as he looked toward the back of the bus.  Asher lunged for the door handle and it folded open.  "Get out of here!" he called to the driver, in a voice that barely rose above a whisper.  His knee buckled, spilling him out onto the sidewalk.

Inside the bus, the beast tore through the press of frantic people.  Blood sprayed the windows as it raced from rear to front.  The driver's foot hit the accelerator and the bus lurched forward.  Tires screeched and horns blared as cars swerved to avoid collision. 

Asher scrabbled to his feet.  He spotted a taxi not a dozen yards away, and ran for it with his last bit of strength.  He threw open the door and jumped in the back seat.  The cabbie, busy watching the spectacle of the bus lurching across traffic, whipped around at Asher's sudden entrance. 

"Go!" Asher yelled.  "Just drive!" 

He dumped the contents of his wallet in his hand, grabbed a folded hundred dollar bill, and waved it through the small opening in the Plexiglas barrier between the front and back seat. 

The driver's scowl disappeared when Asher dropped the bill on the front seat.  He pulled the car out into traffic, cutting off another cab and drawing a profane gesture from its driver.  The driver sped away, calling back, "Where to?" 

Oblivious to the driver's inquiry, Asher peered through the rear window to see the bus careen into a semi.  A diesel fireball enveloped the vehicles.  As the inferno shrank in the distance, Asher saw a large form explode through the bus's rear window to disappear into the night. 

* * * * 

Poe stood outside the Haven for almost an hour before going in.  She had slipped back into a barbarism she struggled with every moment of her existence.  But the arrogant pig had pushed her, tested her when she was weak.  _He deserved it_, she thought, recalling the encounter.  She spit on the ground and wiped her mouth absently.  Poe hoped the Sister would not find out. 

"We are not to judge mankind," the old woman had said many times.  "We are very much a part of the whole.  Understand who people are and why they act as they do." 

This time Poe felt righteous in her judgment.  Had she not been who she was, what she was, the bastard would have probably raped and killed her in the alley.  This time was justified.  Poe believed that even the Sister would agree.  The Sister was incredibly compassionate, but once convinced of a wrong, she could be vengeance itself. 

There were more urgent things to discuss with the Sister tonight.  The man she fought on the rooftop, for one.  She had a feeling she had not seen the last of him. 

The Sister rested in her usual chair by the fireplace, her foot pumping a steady clacking rhythm on the treadle of an 18th century Canadian spinning wheel.  The wheel's black enameled spokes flashed in the soft firelight.  A bright red double drive band linked the wheel to a flyer.  The spool inside it neared the halfway mark of a single-spun merino wool. 

"Welcome home."  She smiled from behind the wheel as Poe entered the study. 

Poe watched the wheel, mesmerized by the flashes of light from its enameled surface. She closed the door softly and took the seat furthest from the fire. 

"There is a werewolf in the city," Poe stated without inflection.  

The Sister slapped a hand on the top of the wheel, bringing it to a sudden stop.  She peered intently at Poe. 

"You are certain?" 

Before Poe could answer, the study door flung open.  A wild-eyed man stomped into the room unbidden. 

"Asher!" Poe and the Sister gasped in unison. 

"Why the hell..." he paused for breath, "...why the hell is one of your freaks trying to kill me?!"

© 2003 Austin Hale


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## Broccli_Head (Apr 18, 2003)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> *014
> ["Asher!"  The Sister and Poe said in unison.
> 
> "I..." he paused for another breath, "...why the hell is one of your freaks trying to kill me?!"
> ...




Wow! That's a surprise!


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## Lamprolign (Apr 25, 2003)

015
_Early this morning
I heard you knock upon my door
Early this morning
I heard you knock upon my door
I said, "Hello, Satan,
I believe it's time to go"_
Robert Johnson - _Me And The Devil Blues_


"_Boring_," Mary sighed.

Gabe lowered the copy of _Rainbow Six_, the last Clancy novel he'd picked up from the used bookstore.  

"No it isn't, and it would be a lot easier to read without constant interruption."

"_Excuse me_," came the sarcastic reply.  "_Don't you want to go somewhere, or do something?  You've been moping around ever since you were suspended_."

Gabe only grunted and resumed to reading.  He was just reaching the climax.  The terrorists were about to release their engineered virus at the opening ceremony of the Summer Olympics in Sydney.  He was startled back to reality by a loud knock on the front door.

"_What now?_" he wondered aloud as he hauled himself off the couch.  

Gabe peered though the peephole.  Chris Ebbing stood on the front porch.  Gabe watched him for a few moments, and when Chris reached to knock again Gabe quickly pulled open the door.

"Damn!  I wish you'd stop doing that!" Chris said after almost striking Gabe's forehead instead of the door.

"Yeah, I probably will when people start using the doorbell."  Gabe stepped back into the house, holding the door open.  "Why do you darken my doorstep?"

"Oh, no reason, just thought I'd pop in, see how your vacation was going."

"Vacation, huh?  That's putting it nicely." 

"Hey dude," Chris replied, "it could be worse.  They could have taken you off active duty and made you sit in the office pushing papers.  At least you're getting some downtime out of the deal."

Gabe smiled slightly and shook his head.  An asteroid the size of Texas could be hurtling toward certain impact with the Earth and Chris would find something positive to say about it.  

"So, how are things at the office?"

"Mucho loco, man," Chris said.  "Catch the news today?"

"Nope."  Gabe waved his dog-eared paperback in Chris' face.  "Been reading."  _Or trying to, anyway, _he thought pointedly.

"There was a bus accident last night, broadsided a semi, then the gas tank went up.  Kablooie!"  Chris waved his arms in the air to emphasize.  

"No ," Gabe responded, jaw agape.  "Body count?"

"Fourteen crispy critters.  The story gets better, though."  Chris paused dramatically.  "Witnesses said they saw a bear jump on the bus."

"A bear," Gabe responded flatly.  He favored Chris with a deadpan stare.  "And were these so-called witnesses smoking crack? "

"Maybe.  But maybe not.  I talked to my buddy down at the coroner's office.  He says some of the dead that were brought in looked like they'd been mauled before they were fried."

Gabe arched an eyebrow.  "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Jenny Matthews?" Chris offered hesitantly.

"Jenny Matthews," Gabe replied with a grin.  "See, I told you if you stuck with me you'd get the hang of this.  Now, tell me about the lab reports on that hair...."

****

Asher woke up in a familiar room.  The study was unchanged in the seven years since he had lived here.  A fifteen-year-old run-away scrounging a living on the street, he had found respite from the outside world within these old walls.  For five years he had hung his hat at the restored church, but he had never called it home.  The Haven brought back to many painful memories from his youth, memories he preferred to leave forgotten.  It often seemed to Asher that his life really began when he started college at Northwestern.  He knew the Sister had pulled some strings to get him a scholarship, but he had earned everything after that himself.  He graduated with honors from Northwestern's Medill School of Journalism, and received his masters in journalism there nine months later.  After short stints with two small midwestern papers, Asher recently managed to land a job with the Tribune as a beat reporter.  He was the first in town to break the Abrams story, and it had seemed that the sky was the limit.  The Haven, and older memories buried deeper still, had been the furthest thing from his mind.  That was before that ... thing tried to kill him.  After escaping, his first thought, once he was capable of forming a rational thought again, had been that the beast had some connection with the Haven.  And, as usual, his hunch was correct.

"Good morning."  The Sister was staring through the window.  A dark calico cat was draped across her shoulders, its tail swishing very slowly.  

"Says you," Asher grumbled.  "Oh !"  Asher jumped up from the chair he'd been sleeping in.  "!  I lost my laptop!  !  !  This is bad."

"There are worse things that could have happened," the Sister replied calmly.  

"I don't know.  I might be better off if that thing had caught me!"  Asher feared he would finally learn what his editor meant when he roared, "Or else!"  "Damn it!  I have to get home.  I have to get to work. "

"Until we find out what is going on, you should stay here where you will be safe."  

"No way, Sister."

"We discussed this last night, Asher.  You are the third person with ties to this place that has been attacked this week, and the only one to survive.  There is no reason to think that your attacker will not return to finish the job."

" I'll take my chances," Asher said.  "I'm not going to hide behind your skirt tails like the others.  I'm not like them.  I'm normal."

"Indeed," sighed the Sister.  "Will you deny it until the end?"

"There's nothing to deny.  I'm not one of your freaks."

****

A loud knock resounded through the small hotel room, startling Piotr from slumber.  

"Chert voz'mi!"  He rolled from the bed, landing in a crouch. 

Again came a knock on the door.  In his week's stay he had yet to be disturbed during the day.  Whoever it was would pay dearly.  Piotr slipped silently to the door and pulled it open.

"Good afternoon, Mister Mironov."  The deep voice rumbled with the force of stone grinding against stone.  Piotr was forced to crane his neck to look up at the face of the huge man on his doorstep.  "You created quite a spectacle last evening.  She is not pleased."

Piotr stood for a moment, anger and embarrassment turning his face crimson.  He was unaccustomed to failure, and unaccustomed to ungrateful clients like these.  "There were... complications."  

"Indeed."  The man's shoulders barely fit through the door as he walked into the room.  The dark gray hat atop his head brushed the doorframe.  He wore a long gray coat, and the two trunk-like legs that supported the giant were clad in light gray trousers and ended in black oxford shoes.  Piotr backed away like a wolf confronted with an angry grizzly.  "Your reputation seems to have been greatly exaggerated, Mironov.  The first time you are presented with a challenge, you run to your den with your tail tucked snugly between your legs."

"You might learn if my reputation is deserved first-hand, comrade."  Piotr growled out the words.

"That would indeed be entertaining, but it will have to wait until you have finished Her business."  The man smiled with glacial warmth.  "There is much that remains, and you have yet to deal with Asher Russell."

Piotr glared at the giant.  The big man smelled of cologne and gun oil, an unpleasant mixture to Piotr's hypersensitive nose.  "The contract called for three," Piotr said.  "Any more will require an additional payment."

"That shall be addressed when the time comes."  The giant walked to the window and looked down on the street below.  A drug deal was going down in the alley across the street.  He watched bemused as merchandise and cash exchanged hands.  A glint in the shadows caught his eye and one of the participants crumpled to the ground.  The other pulled the body behind a cluster of garbage cans and calmly walked out onto the street.   

"You have excellent taste in accommodations, Mironov."  The giant turned and walked to the door.  "Do not disappoint Her a second time."  He smiled and pushed back the brim of his hat.  For the first time his chiseled face was clearly visible.  A long scar ran from his chin across a frigid blue eye, cutting through a thick black eyebrow to disappear under the hat's brim.  "You will find that while She generously rewards success, She is equally intolerant of failure."

© 2003 Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Apr 25, 2003)

This is great writing guys.  Please post more, soon.


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## Lamprolign (Apr 25, 2003)

Thanks for the comments!  We're trying to post once a week.


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## Velenne (Apr 25, 2003)

I couldn't agree with fenzer more.  This writing is superb; I'm riveted!  Keep em coming!!


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## Broccli_Head (Apr 25, 2003)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> *015
> ["You have excellent taste in accommodations, Mironov."  The giant turned and walked to the door.  "Do not disappoint Her a second time."  He smiled and pushed back the brim of his hat.  For the first time his chiseled face was clearly visible.  A long scar ran from his chin across a frigid blue eye, cutting through a thick black eyebrow to disappear under the hat's brim.  "You will find that while She generously rewards success, She is equally intolerant of failure."
> 
> © 2003 Austin Hale *




Oh my gosh! It's the gray Hulk!

just kidding.... 

But this character reminds me of him for some reason. Keep up the great work guys!


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## Lamprolign (Apr 25, 2003)

You know, I didn't think about it, but now that you mention it he does remind me of the Hulk in a coat and tie.    Glad that you're enjoying the story!


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## Jodo Kast (Apr 28, 2003)

Funny Broccli, hadn't thought of the Hulk's "Mr. Fixit" days in a while.  That was a weird, weird run.  Looking forward to Ang Lee's big-screen version.  I have my doubts, but I'm trying to remain optimistic.  Also can't wait for X2 this weekend.  

Thanks for the comments everyone, they are much appreciated.  It's taken a while, but we've developed a good readership, and there is still plenty of story to tell.  We're still at the proverbial tip of the iceberg.


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## fenzer (Apr 29, 2003)

Jodo Kast said:
			
		

> *We're still at the proverbial tip of the iceberg. *




Eeeexcellent.


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## Lamprolign (May 1, 2003)

017

_You live in a church
Where you sleep with voodoo dolls
And you won't give up the search
For the ghosts in the halls
You wear sandals in the snow
And a smile that won't wash away
Can you look out the window
Without your shadow getting in the way_
-Sarah McLachlan, _Building A Mystery_


"You know I could get into some seriously deep  bringing you lab results like this," Chris said when he returned later that day.  He waved a manila folder under Gabe's nose.

"I don't know, and I have no opinion," Gabe mumbled as he plucked the folder from Chris's grasp.

"I had one hella rough time sneaking this out, old man.  You owe me."

"All part of your training, grasshopper."  Gabe dumped the contents of the envelope on his kitchen counter and leafed through the sheets of paper.  He paused when he reached the report of the microscopic examination.  "Hmm....  Not human, well that tells us a lot."  Gabe continued shuffling the stack of reports.  What he really wanted was the DNA analysis.  It occurred to him that there wouldn't be one since other examination showed the evidence was not of human origin. 

"Not a lot to go on, is there?"  

"Do you think you can talk anybody down in the molecular bio lab into sequencing this sample?"

"Well..." Chris began slyly, "Lindsey has been rather friendly lately, maybe I could get her to sneak it in."

"You are incorrigible, man."  Gabe grinned knowingly.  Chris was an inveterate flirt with all the women on the force.  His boyish face had gotten him into, and out of, more trouble than Gabe could remember.  "When you're talking to Lindsey, just try to remember why you're there.  Now get on it, before the trail's too cold.""

****

The sun had just disappeared below the horizon when Gabe left his house.

"_It's about time we went there,_" Mary said.  

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Gabe responded.

"_You should be a little more considerate,_" Mary said.  "_After all, I didn't ask to get stuck in your head._"

Gabe felt at once aggravated and a little guilty.  He hadn't asked for the situation either, but it would do no one any good if he let himself get too irritated.  He had to admit that she had saved his ass after he'd fallen into that old cellar.

"_Damn straight_!"  Mary chimed in.  

Gabe rolled his eyes and shook his head.  He really hoped the Sister could find a way to get Mary back in her own body soon.

The L was still packed at this time of the evening.  Gabe was forced to stand for most of the trip.  He was fairly exhausted by the time he had walked the last leg to the Haven.  All was quiet around the former church building.  No one lingered on the steps or about the building.  It was as deserted as the first time he had come here in the small hours of the morning.  

"_There are normally more people hanging around this time of night,_" Mary said.  "_I wonder if something's up._"  

****

Asher had indeed found out what the 'or else' was when he arrived at work that morning.  It was a dressing down that would put a marine drill sergeant to shame.  Through some miracle he'd been given a reprieve until tomorrow's addition.  This would entail an all-nighter at the office since his laptop computer was long gone.

"Bloody hell," Asher muttered.

"Excuse me?" the aging janitor asked.

"Nothing," Asher responded.  He hadn't noticed the old man come into the cubicle farm where his desk was nestled among many others.  

He turned back to the sprawl of documents and scribbled notes that covered his desk.  On his initiative he'd put together a pretty solid background investigation of this Abrams character.  _Probably better than the cops,_ he thought smugly.  Asher had spent many days in Abram's neighborhood, talking to the people who lived there.  He had compiled a fairly complete record of Abrams' comings and goings.  His most interesting lead had come from a phone call he received from a young woman on the janitorial staff at Miller Nursing Home.  Some research revealed that Miller was originally established in nineteen hundred and one as an asylum.  It was one of the oldest facilities in Oaklawn, maybe in the entire Chicago region.  

Two days after the Abrams story broke, Asher received a phone call from a very nervous girl.  She told him that she had seen Abrams pay several visits to a patient at the home around the time that the first of Abrams' victims had disappeared.  The visits took place long after normal visiting hours had ended.  The girl became evasive when he asked her why she had not contacted the police.  He guessed that she had her reasons for wanting to remain unnoticed by the authorities. 

Asher had visited Miller Nursing Home to follow up on the lead.  No one else there had any recollection of Abrams' visits.  The staff there was agreeable enough, especially when he gave them some bull story about highlighting their facility in an article on historical buildings.  They were a little puzzled when he asked to question the night staff.  He had simply responded, "These old places always have some ghost stories.  Readers love that stuff."

It was good enough to get him the opportunity to snoop around after hours.  He interviewed all the staff over the course of a night, including a young woman on the janitorial staff.  A young woman with a very familiar voice named Jenny Matthews.  She evaded his questions and quickly slipped away.  Before he left that evening she bumped into him and pressed a folded scrap of paper into his hand. He read the message scrawled on the paper on the way home.  _Can't talk here, I need this job.  I'll call you later._  A few days later Asher saw the name Jenny Matthews on the regular crime report issued by the CPD to the press.  She had been murdered in her apartment.  No details were given.

Asher leaned back in his chair, stretching mightily.  It was getting close to eight o'clock.  After last night he thought he might sleep at the office even if he didn't have a story to put together before dawn.

****

Piotr sat near the window of a small cafe on West Chicago Avenue, across the street from the offices of the Chicago Tribune.  _Come out to play, comrade.  We have much unfinished business._

****

"_I wonder if something's up,_" Mary said as they approached the Haven.

"These are your people, kid," Gabe replied.  "I don't have a clue."

"_They aren't just my people,_" Mary's voice held an edge.  "_You have a power of your own, not just the ones you've 'borrowed' from me._"

It did seem eerily still around the stone church building.  As Gabe approached the front doors they opened suddenly.  There stood Poe, framed by the doorway.

"She's been expecting you."  She turned and walked into the interior.

"Nice to see you too, Poe," Gabe muttered as he followed her into the church.

"_Poe's upset,_" Mary said.

"Really?  All I noticed was her normal charming demeanor."  

Poe stopped and spun to face Gabe.  "You're lucky Mary is sharing your body, pig."  

"Yeah?"  

"Yeah."

"_Gabe!  Stop baiting her!_"  

Gabe locked eyes with the vampire.  A heavy silence blanketed the old church's main room, the still air before a storm.  

"DAS IST GANUG!" A powerful voice echoed through the high rafters.  "Kriege machen sie nicht!"  

All looked toward the source of the voice.  The Sister swept into the great hall, her searing glare sweeping across Poe and Gabe.  Both shot a needle filled glance at the other before looking away.

"_I told you to stop,_" Mary said.

"And I'll have none of it from you either, Miss Johansson."  The Sister's ire spared no one in the room.  "We have more than enough problems without childish squabbles!"

"I'm going to hazard a guess here, but I'll bet this has something to do with Jenny Matthews and the bear attack on the bus last night," Gabe said.

"No , Sherlock," said Poe with a derisive snort. 
"Gott in Himmell!  Give me patience!  Poe...."  The Sister's voice carried an implicit warning.

Gabe opened his mouth to respond to Poe's remark, and then thought better of it.  Verbal sparring was going to get him nowhere.  Poe stood facing The Sister, arms folded, her posture evidencing overwhelming irritation.  

"Yes, Mister Ansgar, our problems have everything to do with last night's events," the Sister said.  "However, that was no bear.  It was a werewolf."

Gabe's first thought was that the Sister's statement was impossible.  But then, he had spent the last few moments quarreling with a vampire.  The boundaries in which his reality once resided continued their inexorable erosion.  

"I believe the werewolf killed Jenny Matthews.  Poe fought him on the roof of the building adjacent to the crime scene.  Apparently he was taking great interest in your work, as he was watching Jenny's apartment window when Poe confronted him."

Gabe remembered the blood trail leading up the fire escape, ending on the roof.  A small chill crept down his spine as he realized he had been watched.  

"And the bus attack last night?"

"That was no coincidence.  The creature was pursuing one of my former wards."  The Sister paused a moment before continuing.  "He escaped, but has chosen not to remain here, under our protection."

"Foolish of him," Gabe said.  "There was another similar murder on the same night that Matthews was killed."

"Charles Druyon," the Sister said, "was also a former resident here.  Anyone associated with the Haven is potentially in danger."

"We've wasted enough time," Poe said.  "I'm going out."

"_Where,_" Mary asked.

"Hunting."    



© 2003 Austin Hale


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## Broccli_Head (May 1, 2003)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> *017
> 
> 
> "We've wasted enough time," Poe said.  "I'm going out."
> ...




YES! 

Another Poe v Piotr rematch!


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## fenzer (May 1, 2003)

A lot of good stuff coming together.  I am really enjoying this.  Keep the updates coming.


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## Lamprolign (May 10, 2003)

018

_Do you care what the line is,
Do you care if you won't,
Lesson one is let's stop waiting for the sunlight
It's not crazy to bow down in the full moon, in the full moon

Do you care what the riot is,
Do you care if its falsefied,
Lesson one is let's stop waiting for the sunlight
It's not crazy to bow down in the full moon, in the full moon

Hey, hey I'm dead on arrival,
Hey, hey I'm distant
Crawling right back, yes, I'm crawling right back_

- Urge Overkill, _Honesty Files_

"_Where are you going?_"

"Hunting."


****

"More coffee sir?"  The waitress waved a half-full carafe towards the man's cup.

"No thank you," the man responded with an accent that she thought was Slavic.

She considered asking him where he was from.  She had just started a Russian language class at university and was curious.  The man turned and looked at her for a brief moment before staring back out onto the street.  His gaze chilled her to the core.  She turned and walked quickly away.

Piotr glanced at the young woman as she disappeared into the cafe's kitchen.  Her revulsion amused him.  He looked at the clock that hung above the counter of the small cafe.  Midnight.  He began to wonder if Asher was going to leave the building this night.  _No matter.  We can finish our business indoors_....

****

The northeast wind bit through Gabe's coat, causing him the shiver violently.  "Where the hell are we going?"

"Asher said he needed to work.  He'll be in his office.  We're going there to watch and wait.  He'll be our bait."

"I don't suppose this guy knows that he's bait?"

"He made it clear last night that he didn't want our help," Poe said with an edge in her voice.  "I'm out to stop this freak before he goes after somebody else from the Haven.  We're not here to protect Asher."

"_Poe_," Mary protested, "_he's still a person.  We can't just let him die._"

"He should have thought of that before he turned his back on us," Poe shot back.  "His loss will be well worth it if it allows us to stop the beast."

"Why am I following a psycho?"  Gabe's mumble was heard only by Mary, who remained uncharacteristically silent.

****

Piotr sighed.  _Too many people_, he thought as he walked past the building's rear entrance.  Trucks were already there, lining up in preparation to deliver the morning edition.  He turned the corner out of the alley, heading back toward the cafe.  A blast of cold wind greeted him, cold that would have sent most hurrying indoors.  Piotr raised his face to the wind and embraced the chill despite his relatively sparse attire consisting of a gray turtleneck and faded jeans.  A dark blue toboggan pulled over his brow covered his head.  He weaved his way quickly between the numerous pedestrians crowding the sidewalks.  _Perhaps you will live yet another night, comrade._

The wind shifted direction as it eddied around the buildings.  Piotr stopped.  A familiar scent triggered a short burst of adrenaline.  _Have you come out to play little girl?_  Piotr scanned the faces surrounding him to no avail.  A twist of wind carried the scent to him.  With the wind swirling there was no way he could discern where she might be.  He didn't believe it was a coincidence that the vampire was in his hunting ground again.  She would have to be dealt with before Piotr could continue the hunt.  A thin smile creased his face at the thought.

****
Poe stood quietly in the shadows of a darkened doorway.  The werewolf paused ten yards from her.  He slowly looked around, turning a full circle, and then he moved on.  As he moved past, she slipped out into the flow of people behind him.  She could hear her pulse beating in her head, feel the strength coursing through her.  Her recent feeding had replenished her beyond the cost of regeneration.  Poe grinned wickedly.  The werewolf had toyed with her.  He would pay dearly.

Gabe followed a few paces behind the vampire.  He wondered again why he had tagged along.  He supposed that part of it was professional interest.  A crime had been committed, and even though this was not exactly conventional investigation, the bad guy needed to be stopped.  Maybe part of it was something Mary had said.  _They're your people too._  He wasn't quite ready to admit that to himself, but it lurked in his subconscious.  

"_I've got a bad feeling about this,_" Mary said quietly.

"Me too," Gabe whispered.  

****

Piotr continued to walk.  He passed the cafe where he was seated earlier, and then turned down a narrow alley that led off of Adams into shadows.  _Follow, little girl_.

****

Poe watched the man in the gray sweater pass into the shadows of an alley.  She slipped silently into the dark lane.  A stygian mist gathered around her, swirling up from the ground, until she disappeared.  The black mist spread from the dark recesses of doorways and from under overhangs.  Tendrils filled the alley, blocking the light from the thoroughfare behind her.  She smiled, pleased by the darkness.

The slightest scraping sound gave scant warning as several hundred pounds of fur and claw rushed toward her.  She sidestepped, testing his ability to see in her shadow mist.  He changed direction immediately, bearing down on her.  Leaping to the side, she barely evaded the swipe of razor talons.  _Damn!  How can he see me?!_

Poe rolled to her feet.  She spotted her quarry skidding around for another charge, fully transformed, a mass of bristly fur, sharp teeth and claws.  In a single leap she closed the distance between them.  Her booted foot landed squarely on the monster's eye with a wet crunching sound and the spatter of blood.  He snarled in rage, swiping sideways with his tooth filled maw.  Poe bounded away, landing on a second floor fire escape platform.  

The beast angled its head toward her.  One eye was bloody but the other transfixed her with a baleful yellow stare.  It leapt, easily clearing the distance to the platform.  Poe sprang away at the last instant, sailing across the alley to find a tenuous perch on a third floor windowsill.  No sooner had the beast's feet made contact then it jumped again.  Poe somersaulted into midair, arcing gracefully to the pavement below.  The creature crashed through the window and inside the building.  

****

Gabe stood on the sidewalk where the alley disappeared behind an inky veil of unnatural darkness.  Sounds of a struggle pierced the black veil, followed by the crystalline refrain of breaking glass.

"_We have to go in there," Mary said.  "Poe could be hurt._"

"If we go in there, I could be hurt.  Poe's a big girl, she can take care of herself," Gabe responded.  Several minutes passed and the darkness in the alley dissipated.  He saw no sign of Poe or the beast.  

"."

Gabe cautiously walked down the alley.  About fifty paces brought him to a spatter of blood on the pavement.  _I wonder whose...._  There were gouges in the pavement where the creature's claws dug in as it leapt.  A shard of broken glass caught his attention.  He looked up and saw the shattered window.  

"." 

Gabe stared at the window three stories overhead, and then looked around at street level.  There was a steel door opening into the building a few yards away.  He knew before he tried that the door would be locked.

"_Fosgail an dràstar,_" Mary spoke.

Gabe heard his voice speaking in time with hers.  The door crumpled inward, ripping from its frame and crashing against the wall of what looked like a hallway.

"_Oops._"

"Nice Mary," Gabe said.  "Why don't we get some trumpets and firecrackers to announce ourselves while you're at it.  You could ask before you hijack my vocal cords, you know."  He stepped through the door.

**** 

Piotr's right eye was useless.  He could feel the blood trickling down his cheek, taste it in the corner of his mouth.  Moving swiftly, he crossed the long narrow room.  By the light of computer monitors he could make out a door at the far end.  The corners of his mouth turned up in a horrific parody of a smile.  The tight quarters here would work to his advantage.  He slipped through the door into the corridor beyond.  

****

Glass crunched under her feet as Poe stepped from the windowsill.  Scattered spots of blood led away from the window into a long narrow room lined by desks.  Poe stood for a moment listening.  Silence.  She moved across the room toward the only door.  The blood trail continued down the corridor beyond.  A multitude of doors opened on either side of the hallway, black openings through which her quarry might be waiting.  

****

He heard the faint scuff of a booted foot.  He became still, his breathing a barely audible whisper.  The central heating carried the smell of fresh earth to his nostrils.  She was near.  The muscles in his legs tensed, readying to spring.  His ears strained to hear her approach.

****

Poe stopped.  Did she hear something?  Every nerve was strung snare-tight.  Then she heard the soft sound of exhalation.  She whirled and saw the beast hurtling toward her.  There was no room to dodge in the close confines of the corridor.  It slammed into her with bone crushing force.  She was pinned between the beast and the wall.  One arm under the creature's snout barely kept the jagged teeth from her face.  Blood seeped through her coat where talons had raked her shoulders.  She brought her knee up hard into the creature's rib cage.  Bones gave way beneath the blow and Poe heaved the beast back.  She felt the walls pressing in.  She couldn't maneuver in such tight quarters.

It charged again.  At the last moment Poe dropped to the floor with her legs pulled tightly to her chest.  As the creature pressed its attack, she uncoiled explosively, planting both feet in the creature's chest.  Up and over it went, carried by its own momentum.  Its back tore through the drop ceiling.  Pieces of plaster tile and steel frame rained from above.  The beast's trajectory carried it through a steel door into a stair well.

Before the rain of ceiling had stopped it scrabbled to its feet again.  Poe considered her options quickly.  She had to get out of this building.  It would only be a matter of time before the werewolf's greater weight and weaponry won the battle in the enclosed space of the hallway.

It leapt.  Poe could not evade this time.  They rolled down the hallway, Poe trying desperately to keep the toothy muzzle away from her throat and face.  She was unable to land any blows of her own.  The talons ripped long gashes on her shoulders.  Its hind feet lacerated her legs.  The gray carpeting of the hallway floor turned dark with Poe's blood.

****

Gabe had just entered the stairwell when he heard the door above him explode open from a great impact.  He looked up to see a light rain of white dust float down from the third floor landing.

"."  

Gabe ran up the stairs, wondering exactly what good he was going to do when he got there.  He skidded through the ruined third floor door into a hallway.  There was Poe, pinned under the beast and from the looks of things not doing too well.

"_POE!_"

It seemed to Gabe as if Mary's voice had split his skull in two.  He felt an incredible surge of emotion coarse through him as Mary's thoughts spilled into his consciousness.  Gabe's arm raised before him, his fingers and hand held flat, pointing toward the creature.

"_Balaas aingeal_!" their voices intoned together.  

Red light swirled around his hand and then surged forward to strike the beast in the shoulder.  It howled in pain.  The air reeked of burnt hair and flesh.  It turned a baleful eye in their direction.  Gabe's other hand swung around as if throwing.

"_Ròiseal  viitahea_!"  

A compression wave, outlined in pale blue light, streaked outward from the arc of Gabe's arm.  It tore down both sides of the hallway, shattering drywall and steel frame.  It struck the still smoldering beast, sending it flying to the opposite end of the hallway with a sickening crunch of breaking bones and tearing flesh.  Gabe brought his hand in front of his face and gawked at it as if it were some alien thing suddenly grafted to his body.  

The beast rose from the floor, staggered two steps, and then disappeared through the far door.  Poe climbed to her feet, dripping blood but still moving.

"Don't let it get away!"

Gabe sprinted after the werewolf, Poe a step behind.  They burst through the far door.  A trail of blood drops made it a simple task to follow the creature.  It led to another stairwell.  The trail went up.  Gabe thought they must be at the fifth floor when the trail exited the stairwell.  The door deposited them on the top floor of an adjoining parking building.  Gabe skidded to a halt.  An image flashed across his mind of the creature flying through the air.  He turned in time to see the beast leaping from a dark corner where the parking building connected with the building they had just exited.  Its jaw clamped down hard on Gabe's left arm as he failed to dodge the attack.  Gabe felt a great pressure and was sure he heard bones splintering. Then he was slung from side to side as the beast began to rip him apart.  Suddenly it released him.

Gabe saw Poe on the creature's back.  With both arms locked around its neck she clamped its windpipe shut.  It thrashed wildly for a moment then jumped straight up, flipping over onto its back and pinning Poe between itself and the concrete floor.  Her breath was taken away as the impact forced all the air from her lungs.  Her grip loosened enough for the beast to roll away.  Poe sprang to her feet, landing in a crouch, ready for another attack.  

Gabe lay still on the concrete.  He was still conscious but he couldn't move.  His left arm was a shattered ruin from the elbow down.  He could see bits of broken bone protruding from several places.  Blood pulsed out.  Gabe's battered brain registered that an artery must be cut.  He had to stop the bleeding.

"_Voraes ni tuagh banigh._"

"_Gabe,_" Mary's voice seemed muted, as if she were speaking through a wall.  "_Gabe, you have to stay with me here_."

"_Voraes ni tuagh banigh._"

Gabe felt a tingling in his arm, and a small measure of strength returned to him.  He looked at the shattered arm.  Blood continued to ooze out of the many lacerations, but it no longer surged.  He looked over to see Poe and the werewolf warily circling.  Each looked for a weakness in the other's defenses.  Gabe could not stand.  He crawled back toward the wall and propped himself up against it.  

Poe kept her eyes locked on the creature's left eye.  The right eye was swollen shut in an angry red mass that was still dripping blood.  As they circled, Poe gradually closed the distance between them.  She dropped straight down, catching her weight on her hands, swinging both legs around.  The kick caught the creature on the end of its snout.  A tooth flew out and skidded across the concrete.  

The werewolf lunged, its jaw snapping shut inches from Poe's face.  She fell back on her shoulders, pulled her legs to her and kicked out.  This time the blow landed solidly in the creature's throat.  It made a gasping rasp and backed away.  Poe was up in a heartbeat, catching the beast just below the ear with a roundhouse kick.  It faltered for a moment and then lunged, seizing Poe's leg in a crushing bite.  It thrashed Poe from side to side, slamming her into the concrete.  

Gabe saw the vampire fall with the creature latched onto her leg.  He raised his right arm, fingers outstretched.

"_Caer’aroon naes naeor_," Gabe said in time with Mary.

Bolts of blue light shot from Gabe's hand, striking the creature in the ribcage.  Howling, it released the vampire.  It turned to face Gabe.  Poe rolled away and regained her footing.  Her leg was broken.  She nearly fell when she tried to put weight on it.  Poe balanced on the good leg and looked around.  The edge of the deck was only a few yards behind her.  If she could only get the beast near enough.…

Gabe's arm hung limp at his side.  He'd lost a lot of blood before Mary slowed the bleeding ... too much blood.  

The beast watched Gabe's head loll to the side.  This one was no longer a threat.  He turned back to face the vampire in time to receive a vicious kick to the head.  Bright lights exploded in its vision.  It turned, snapped blindly and felt fabric tear through its teeth.  It saw the vampire standing just a short distance away.  She seemed to be favoring one leg.  A final attack should finish her.  He leapt toward the vampire clawed forelimbs fully outstretched.  He would tear her apart.  More swiftly than his eye could follow she feinted to the left.  Where his target had stood now he saw only open space and lights far below.  

Poe crawled back to the edge and peered over.  _Bakayaro_, she thought.  She could just make out a crushed form on the sidewalk far below.  _Good riddance_.  Poe looked at Gabe's unconscious form.  Maybe he wasn't such a loser after all... 

****

Gabe opened his eyes.  He saw a varnished tongue and groove pattern above.  _That's not my ceiling_.  Sunlight was flooding the room through windows that were out of his line of sight.  He heard a sound to his side.

"Well, I see that you are finally awake Gabriel."  The Sister's voice floated from across the room.

"How...?"

"...did you get here?" the Sister finished for him.  "Poe carried you."

Gabe's eyes widened and he felt his neck with his right hand.  At the same time he realized his arm was bound in an elaborate splint.  

"I think Poe might be offended by your reaction," the Sister chuckled softly.  "As amusing as it was."

"_How is Poe_?"  

"She's fine, Mary," the Sister answered.  "She is much more durable than our unfortunate public servant here."

"Thanks," Gabe said.  "What happened to the hairy-scary?"

The Sister allowed the spinning wheel to coast to a stop.  She looked out the window before answering.  "He disappeared.  No body was found."

"Lovely," Gabe replied, "meaning he could be and probably is still out there."

"Yes," the Sister continued looking out the window.  "He must be severely injured though.  I don't believe we will see him for some time.  The most troubling aspect of these events is why.  Until we know that it will be very difficult to guard against."  The Sister paused and looked back at Gabe.  "I fear there is something more at work here than the werewolf, I just don't know what or who...yet."


© Austin Hale



And so ends episode 2 of _First Sight_.  Episode 3 will start in two weeks...


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## Broccli_Head (May 11, 2003)

*!*

Very cool fight


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## Broccli_Head (May 11, 2003)

*!*

And....glad that you didn't kill Piotr.

He's too cool of a bad guy. I have to admit, however,a soft spot for werewolves.

More Mr. Fixit, please!


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## fenzer (May 11, 2003)

Wow Austin, what an intense and exciting ride.  Your combat is explained clearly and logically, a joy to read.  Thank you for a great conclusion to episode 2.  

Really great writing guys, thank you.


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## Velenne (May 11, 2003)

Excellent work!  Time and time again I keep coming back and I'm never disappointed.  No pressure!


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## Lamprolign (May 12, 2003)

As always thanks for the good words!  I'm glad that we're able to spin an enjoyable tale with First Sight, it's been allot of fun to write.  Jodo Kast is supposed to be penning two "Jodo Kast special installments" over the next couple of weeks.  In the first week of June we'll be launching into episode 3 and back on a normal schedule.  Thanks for reading!


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## Nail (May 13, 2003)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> *As always thanks for the good words!  *



Readers never post enough, do they?  

Good stuff, Lamprolign.  I especially like the flow of your dialogue.  ...I plan on stealing it for my own story hour, if I can.


----------



## Lamprolign (May 29, 2003)

*Begin Episode 3*

019
_But there's a fire inside
When I'm falling over
There's a fire in me
When I call out
There's a fire inside
When I'm falling over
I feel the fire
I'm going home_
-U2, _Fire_

"Mommy?"  The small girl's fragile voice quavered, solitary in the inky mists.  "Mommy, where are you?"

Silence echoed back from unseen walls.  She ran.  Small slippered feet made little slapping sounds against the obsidian floor.  Her reflection looked back at her through deep brown eyes, tears ran in shining rivulets across the caramel skin of her cheeks.  Long, curly hair, seemingly a piece of the unbroken night streamed behind her.  

"Sarah," a woman's voice drifted to her.  "Sarah, I've been looking for you."

"Auntie?" the child sniffled as she called out.  "I hear you, but I can't see you."

"I'm here," the reassuring voice answered.  A small point of light broke the dark veil.  Sarah ran toward it.  "That's right.  Come to me child."

A smile lifted Sarah's frown.  She had found someone.  She would be safe, no longer alone.  The light grew in size as she approached, taking on the silhouette of a person.

"You're almost here," came the voice from within the luminescence.  

Sarah raised her arms, hands outstretched, running as fast as she could.  Suddenly the floor rose before her, throwing her back.  She screamed.

"AUNTIE!"

Three dark forms condensed from the murk.  They swirled around her, blocking the light.

"GET AWAY!" Sarah screamed as she dropped to the floor.  She pulled her knees to her chin in a tight embrace.

The shadows moved closer to her, wispy arms reaching out.  Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her knees.  

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"  

A circle of blue fire sprang to life around her.  It rose in a column to infinity and then flashed outward.  The darkness was devoured in an expanding ring of blinding blue light.  The shadows disintegrated in the cacophony of flame.  

Sarah opened her eyes.  Beneath her she felt cold pavement.  The sounds of distant traffic reached her ears.  Fitful flames, consuming bits of garbage, cast dim, flickering light on the scene.  She laid her head back down on her knees and softly cried.  She was alone again.

****

"_A little more work and you might even be able to defend yourself without me._"  Mary seemed unusually complimentary this morning.

"Seems to me I did just fine before you came along."  Gabe's voice sounded too loud in the wood paneled hallway leading to the Sister's study.  "But I suppose I should thank you for your backhanded compliment.  Now, what do you want?"

"_Why do you immediately assume I'm only going to be nice when I want something?  It's not my fault that you hardly ever do anything deserving a compliment!_"

Gabe chuckled.  Sometimes it was just too easy to ruffle Mary's feathers.  It had scarcely been two weeks since their battle with the werewolf and his shattered arm was nearly healed.  Over those same two weeks he found himself spending more and more time at the Haven.  At first he'd gone strictly to placate Mary, but that was changing.  The Sister started teaching him simple magics.  She believed Gabe had a power that had slept inside him until awakened by the backlash of Abrams' miscasting.  His abilities were nowhere near Mary's, but it seemed that Mary's spells were greatly enhanced now that she was casting 'though' Gabriel.  

He stopped at the study door.  It normally opened before he had a chance to knock, but this morning it remained shut.  Gabe knocked lightly on the door.  Several moments passed with no response.  

"_Something's wrong,_" Mary said.

Gabe felt a knot of anxiety rising in his throat.  He inched the door open.  The room seemed empty.  Gabe felt a little silly for picking up Mary's apprehension.  He stepped into the room and looked around.  

"Nothing to worry about Mary, she's probably around somewhe..." Gabe stopped abruptly.

The Sister lay on the floor, as if pitched from her favorite chair.  

"_Sister!_"

"."

Gabe quickly knelt by her side and felt for a pulse.  It was there, weak but steady.  He checked her breathing and found it near normal.  Gabe could discern no outward clues as to what had stricken her.  A visual scan around the room revealed nothing out of place.  

"_What's wrong with her!?_"

"I don't know," Gabe answered Mary's frantic question.  "She's breathing fine and her pulse is steady.  I'm going to call an ambulance."

As Gabe reached for his cell phone his vision began to distort, as if he viewed the room through water.

"Damn, I hate this."

The room dissolved, leaving a black void.  There was no sound other than his own breathing and no light at all.  He reached out with one hand and touched fabric.

"Mary?"

"Yes" 

Gabe felt her small hand grasp his.

"Can you see anything?"

"No"

Dim outlines appeared and slowly took on substance.  They were standing in a trash littered alley.  Starlight glinted from rain-slicked asphalt.  Rats scurried between piles of refuse, their claws skittering on the pavement.  It was cold, but not below freezing.  A quiet whimper drew their attention.  Huddled in a pile of discarded papers, a small child slept.  They could see no details in the scant light.  Gabe turned to see three forms walking towards them.  As they drew closer Gabe recognized Rosemont Police Department uniforms.  One of them spoke in the microphone on his shoulder.

"I think we've found her, we're..."

The child's screaming cut the officer short.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

A ball of blue flame erupted around the child. It flared outward.  Its force cast the policemen into the air.  Before their bodies fell to earth, the inferno consumed them.  The blazing wave passed over Gabe and Mary as nothing more than a gust of wind.  As the fire faded the child raised her head.  She looked up and down the alley.  Sniffling she laid her head upon her knees rocking back and forth.  

The alley dissolved before Gabe's view.  He squinted against the bright sunlight streaming through the windows of the Sister's study.  

"What the hell?"

"_What was that?_"

"You had a vision," the Sister stated

"_You're okay!_" Mary exclaimed.

"Not quite 'okay' my dear," the Sister responded, "but once again among the living."  Her voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, "far more fortunate than those poor souls who were near her." 



© 2003 Austin Hale


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## fenzer (May 29, 2003)

*Re: Begin Episode 3*



			
				Lamprolign said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Gabe felt her small hand grasp his.
> 
> *




I don't know why but this sentance really moved me.  It was a neat thought that Mary and Gabe could have physical contact, even if it was in his mind.  

Damn guys, this is excellent work.  That opening squence played out in my mind in pure technicolor.  Lamprolign, you have out done yourself.  Great work.

Now that my nose is sufficiently brown, where the hell's the next update?


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## Broccli_Head (May 29, 2003)

Yeah! Another Mystery!


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## Salthorae (May 29, 2003)

*great read*

Man i wish you guys would update more often! This SH is an awesome read, it's one of my favorites on this board so keep it up!


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## Lamprolign (May 29, 2003)

*updates*

Thanks for the comments guys!  We're trying to stick to a once a week update schedule.  I'd like to put up new stuff more often but annoying diversions like work keep getting in the way!   Look for more new stuff next Thursday!


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## Velenne (May 30, 2003)

*Re: Re: Begin Episode 3*



			
				fenzer said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I don't know why but this sentance really moved me.  It was a neat thought that Mary and Gabe could have physical contact, even if it was in his mind.
> *




Same here.  There was definate power in that phrase.  It was vulnerable, confirming, and sweet at the same time.  

But the damn post was too short!!!!!!  DON'T LEAVE US HANGIN MAN!


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## Lamprolign (Jun 5, 2003)

*Episode 3*

020

_lonely child roams around 
as someone else goes underground 
all trying to make ends meet 
trouble staring, is life so cheap? 

all they wanted was love and affection 
all they wanted was love and affection 

broken dreams in the street 
true sensations, the stories leak 
sweet justice hard to find 
can't simply speak my mind_ 
-Clannad, _Love And Affection_


"Thank you," the Sister said, accepting a cup of tea from Gabriel.

Gabe sat down in the chair opposite her.  "OK, can you explain any of what just happened?"

"Some, yes," the Sister replied.  She shifted in her seat, "but I don't have all the details myself."

"_Who was that little girl?_" Mary asked.

"Her name is Sarah."  The Sister paused, studying the flames dancing across the logs.  "She and her mother were to come here to live.  They were living just outside of Oakfield in western New York, but events left them without a home."

"What events exactly?"  Gabe had a good idea what the answer would be.

"Sarah has a great power, far greater than anything I've seen in one so young before.  She cannot control these powers.  In particular, she can't control them when she dreams.  The family's home was destroyed.  Sarah's father and older brother were killed."

"Destroyed how?"

"It was ripped apart.  The surrounding houses were heavily damaged, and there were several casualties.  The local authorities blamed it on a tornado.  Sarah was found in the center of the wreckage, unconscious."

"_But how did you know?_"

"Come now, Mary," the Sister admonished, "you should remember.  Gabriel's talent isn't the only kind of Sight."

"_The pond, _" Mary said in a trancelike voice, as if her mind were in another place or time.

"Yes."

 Gabe's thoughts felt molasses-coated.  "So...how did you know what Mary and I saw?"

"I don't know exactly what you saw, Gabriel," the Sister answered.  "I found Sarah in the dreamtime.  I could not see what was happening around her in the physical world, only the shadows that Sarah herself perceived in her sleeping state."

"My brain hurts."

"_Where is her mother?_"  

"I don't know...but I fear that she is dead."

"You think the little girl killed her," Gabe stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes."

"_That poor child, all alone. We have to find her._" Mary's voice was quiet in Gabe's thoughts.  His guts tightened. He wondered if Mary's emotions were leaking into his consciousness or if he was getting soft in his old age.

"She was somewhere in Rosemont last night," Gabe said.  "I recognized the police uniforms, but...."  

"...how are we going to protect ourselves?"  The Sister glanced at the rows of leather-bound books that lined the walls.  "There are spells to keep her safe in the dreamtime, difficult to cast and even more difficult to maintain.  Sarah's mother was once my student, a very adept one, but she lacked the ability to control her daughter's powers.  They were coming here for help.  With time Sarah can be taught to control her power.   If we can find her."

****

Sunlight striking her face woke Sarah from a dreamless slumber.  She looked around the bleak alley.  Small patches of grimy snow hid in the shadows.  Bits of charred debris skittered across the pavement, pushed by a freshening east wind.  Her stomach growled.  In her eight short years of life she had never been so hungry.  It had been days since she had eaten, ever since she awakened from a nightmare to find herself alone.  Tears washed clean streaks down her dirt-covered face.  She sniffled and looked up at the blue sky overhead.

She sat there, softly crying as the sounds of traffic and passersby rose in time with the sun.  No one walked down the narrow alley between two dilapidated warehouses.  Sarah stood up and brushed the dirt and ash from her pants.  She walked out of the alley onto a sidewalk beside a busy four-lane road.  The traffic sat still more than it moved.  Irate drivers honked horns in a discordant rhapsody.  Sarah caught sight of a shopping center with a McDonald's down the street.  Pulling the dirty hooded sweatshirt closer around her shoulders, the child shuffled forward.

No one noticed the scruffy little girl walking along the sidewalk.   Drivers on the street cursed the car in front of them, or traffic in general.  Occasional groups of pedestrians found some other direction to look in as Sarah walked by.  She was alone.  

****

One person, wrapped in several layers of tattered clothing, sat quietly against a utility pole just off the sidewalk.  A battered, broad-brimmed hat and a dingy scarf pulled across mouth and nose obscured the person's face.  Just one more homeless vagabond loitering on the roadside.  Green eyes peered from beneath the broad-brimmed hat, watching as the grubby girl-child walked past.  The girl did not notice the vagrant's stare.  She continued walking toward the possibility of food.

****

Sarah stood outside the McDonald's entrance, afraid to talk to anyone.  Desperately she missed her mother and the reassuring leg that she always hid behind.

"Are you lost?"

Sarah jumped, whirling toward the unexpected voice.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to scare you."    A tiny, dark haired woman with brown eyes just beginning to show signs of tiny wrinkles around them smiled at the startled child Shoulder length brown hair stuck out from beneath the bright red ski cap that she wore.  

Sarah studied the woman and took a half step backwards.

"Don't be scared," the woman smiled reassuringly as she spoke.  "Where is your mommy?"

Tears welled up in Sarah's eyes. She fell to her knees.  Wracking sobs convulsed her entire body.  She had been alone so long.   Warm arms wrap around her, a shoulder touched beneath her cheek.

"It's all right." The woman held the weeping child against her.  With two daughters of her own comforting was a knee-jerk reaction.

She knelt and held the girl until her crying had subsided to little hiccuping sobs.  Slowly the child's breathing returned to normal.  

"What's your name?" she asked after the crying had subsided.

"Sarah," the girl answered in a quavering voice.

"My name is Laura," the woman answered as she gently wiped tears from the child's face.  "Are you hungry, Sarah?"  

"Yes."

"Well then, you can have breakfast with me," Laura said as she stood, taking Sarah by the hand.  "Let's go in and eat.  What do you like?"

"I like eggs and sausage," Sarah's stomach was turning summersaults at the thought of eating.

"Okay then."  Still holding the child's hand, Laura led her into the restaurant.

****

A rag clothed vagabond wearing a broad-brimmed hat slipped to the edge of the McDonald's parking lot and sat quietly under one of the lampposts.  Green eyes watched the restaurant's windows intently.



© 2003 Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Jun 5, 2003)

Oh,  I'm liking this.  More please.


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## Lamprolign (Jun 7, 2003)

So far we're on schedule to post on time next Thursday.


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## fenzer (Jun 10, 2003)

Bump.


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## Lamprolign (Jun 13, 2003)

*uhg*

My apologies Fenzer, but I can't get a new post up this week.  Due to circumstances beyond my control, (brother in the hospital for major surgery followed shortly by an uncle hospitalized for ticker problems, and the general pandemonium of keeping the family and extended family afloat,) I haven't had time to work on First Sight.  The last installment was a bit of a rush job and it showed.  So I'm going to aim for getting an installment ready to put up on Monday or Tuesday.


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## fenzer (Jun 13, 2003)

No need to apologize.  I wish you and your family well and hope all works out.

Your story is well worth waiting for.


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## Nail (Jun 13, 2003)

*Re: uhg*



			
				Lamprolign said:
			
		

> *My apologies Fenzer, but I can't get a new post up this week....  *



I'm sorry to hear that too.

I satisfy my urge to read by re-reading from page one.  There are some new details that pop out the second or third time through.

*Lamp*, how might your style change with less fantastic powers of the protagonists?  Just a random question.


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## fenzer (Jun 20, 2003)

Bump.

Lamp, hope all is going well.

EDIT:  post count is half way to 666.  What?  Does this make me a mini-satan, a pseudo-luminous lucifer, a half-devil?

Just a thought.


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## Lamprolign (Jun 24, 2003)

*status*

Things seem to be calming down around these parts.  I've gotten about halfway through the next installment but I'm having trouble getting back into my groove with the story.  I guess I'm still decompressing from the past few weeks.  Rest assured though that First Sight is "not dead yet."


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## Lamprolign (Jun 28, 2003)

021

_So shut that buckle and turn that key again 
Take me to a place they say the dreaming never ends 
Open wide drive that mystery road 
Walk through Eden's garden and then wander as you go 
End - your dreamworld is just about to end 
Fall - your dreamworld is just about to fall 
Your dreamworld will fall 
Dreamworld, _ - Midnight Oil


_Such a frail little thing,_ Laura thought, watching the child gulp down a greasy breakfast sandwich.  She guessed the little girl's age at six or seven, based on her stature.  Laura gently wiped a smudge of mayonnaise from a tan cheek.  

"I'm full now."  The child pushed herself away from the table, a smile on her face.

"You certainly have a good appetite, young lady," Laura chuckled.  "You ate more than me!"

Sarah graced her with a broader smile.  Laura resisted the urge to lean across the table and hug her like one of her own.

"Now, we'll have to go to the police station," Laura said.  "They can help us find your mother."

"I miss my mommy."  Sarah's face sagged under the weight of a frown.

"It's all right.  I'm sure the police will be able to help."  Laura tried to convey a certainty she did not feel.  She knew there were all too few happy endings in real life.  

Laura stood, offering an outstretched hand to the girl.   They exited the restaurant as if they were mother and daughter.

****

Slumped against a lamppost, a ragged figure watched the pair walk across the parking lot.  

Laura pulled a set of keys out of her purse and pushed a button on the keychain.  The lights of a white Dodge Caravan only a few paces away blinked in response, and the doorlocks popped open obediently.  

Low mumbling drifted from beneath the dingy scarf of the sinister figure watching the pair.

****

As Laura grasped the passenger door handle, a wave of vertigo swept over her.  The ground heaved beneath her feet.  She fell backwards, pulling the door open.  A burgundy sedan in the adjacent parking spot checked her fall.  She leaned heavily against it.  Panic rose in her throat.  Her stomach felt as if it were crowding out her heart and lungs.  Her breath came in ragged gasps.  

****

Sarah froze as her new-found friend collapsed to the pavement.  A prickly chill snaked down her spine.   She turned to find malevolent green eyes staring at her from beneath a broad-brimmed hat.  The scarf beneath the eyes twitched as she stared at it, discordant mumbling escaped its concealing weave.

****

"I wish these visions were a little more useful!"  Hours of futile searching had left Gabe tired and frustrated. 

"_Do you remember the traffic noise?  It seemed to be distant._"

"Yeah, but it also seemed to be late at night," Gabe replied.  "Rosemont gets pretty quiet after midnight, it's not like downtown."

Gabe stood on the sidewalk alongside Balmoral Avenue looking at a cluster of self-storage facilities.   A likely spot.  Primarily a suburban community, Rosemont had very few industrial buildings.  Gabe shrugged his shoulders and walked toward the mini-warehouses.  Noise from passing traffic ebbed and flowed like the sound of crashing surf.  It receded from Gabe's awareness, subtly changing, becoming muffled and distorted.

Gabe noted that his shadow had disappeared.  He twisted to look behind and saw the sun once more low on the eastern horizon.   As he turned back, he caught a glimpse of a child walking toward him... the child from the vision.  Then he saw something else.  A stooped, disheveled figure watched the child pass.

"That's her!"  Mary grabbed Gabe's arm. 

"Yeah."  Gabe's stomach knotted as the bedraggled figure slipped unobtrusively behind the child, following several yards behind.  "Someone else is after the kid."

Gabe and Mary stood silently as the child walked away from them.  The rag-covered figure shuffled closer.  They could clearly see green eyes beneath the broad-brimmed hat.  As it came close it paused, seeming to look right at them.  Chill tendrils shot down Gabe's spine.  The image vanished in a shimmering transition.  The sun once again hung halfway to its apex.

"_That thing!_" Mary gasped in his head. "_That was a ghoul! _"

Gabe spun on a heel, bolting in the direction the child had walked.  Cold air burned his throat and chest.  He didn't much care what that thing was.  The aura of malice washing over him in the vision still gripped his viscera in icy fingers.   A sense of urgency that had never come with a vision before propelled him on.  

****

Discernable words coalesced from the mumbling.  "Come with me, Sarah.  My Master is waiting for you."

Sarah recoiled, tripping over Laura's prostrate form.

"She cannot help you now, Sarah," the words rasped in a whisper.  "My Master can help you.  Come with me."

Sarah sprawled across Laura's body.  She felt her labored breathing, and sensed that each step the hat-man took toward her made Laura's chest struggle harder for air.  The memory of the comforting hug, the feeling of relief that someone would take care of her, washed through Sarah's mind, followed by a torrent of fear, panic...  and anger.  She couldn't let her friend be hurt.  She had to do something.

Sarah rolled off Laura and rose to face the hat-man.  Her hair began to coil about as something alive.  The ghoul stopped.  It sensed power far greater than its own flowing around the girl.  It stepped backward cautiously.  Sarah's hands clenched in small fists at her sides.  Her teeth ground in agitation.  She felt something happening, although she couldn't comprehend just what.

****

Mary gasped.  Gabe jolted to a halt.  It felt as if all the air had been sucked away to somewhere up ahead.  The earth beneath his feet tilted.  He staggered to one knee.

"_It's her, _" Mary gasped.  "_What is she doing? _"

****

Sarah took a step toward the ghoul, hair like a crackling halo of hundreds of whips.  

"Go away!"

A small orb of shimmering darkness popped into existence between Sarah and the ghoul.  

"Cailech sgiath!"  The ghoul  frantically clapped its hands.  A cloudy disk appeared between it and the darkness.  

Sarah wavered, confused by all this.  Fear crept through her.  She retreated a step, then heard Laura's wheezing breath.  Sarah stopped.  She still knew fear, but she was no longer afraid for herself.  The fear changed, no longer was it for herself, but for another.

"GO AWAY!"  Sarah screamed.

The dark orb collapsed in upon itself.  It exploded in an incandescent wave, expanding in a blinding flash of light.  It tore through the hat-man's cloudy shield and body.  Cars flew into the air, children's toys before the terrible force.  The morning air was shattered by the boom of gasoline explosions and the shrill report of car alarms.

****

"!"  Gabe wobbled to his feet after the flash of light passed.  He heard explosions and saw several plumes of smoke rising from the shopping center ahead. 

****

The girl stood rigid, awestruck by the devastation.  She didn't know how, but she knew she was responsible.

Laura roused to the smell of burning rubber, then heard the blaring car alarms. Gingerly she pushed herself up and looked around.  The McDonald's parking lot looked like a bomb had detonated.  Her minivan sat a few yards away, upside down and burning. The car she remembered leaning on before passing out lay flipped on its side, flames licking around the fuel tank.  How had she survived that kind of explosion?  She heard a tiny whimper.  Sarah stood next to her, her face tear-streaked.

"What happened?"

"I'm sorry," Sarah's voice quavered.  "I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to... to what?  What?"

An inarticulate gasp escaped Sarah as she whirled, running across the parking lot, away from the smoldering wreckage.

"Wait!"  Laura cried out. "Don't run away!"

The world whizzed about Laura's head when she tried to stand.   She gained her feet and staggered a few steps after the child before she tripped, skinning her hands and knees.  Her eyes widened in horror and her mouth opened in a silent scream when she caught sight of what had tripped her.  A severed leg lay surrounded by torn rags lay on the pavement. 

****

Gabe stared at the scene before him.  _What in the hell are they going to make of this? _  He heard sirens approaching from several directions.  Under normal circumstances he would have already started to investigate the scene.  That seemed like another life now.  Gabe saw a dark-haired woman sitting on the scorched pavement, holding her head in both hands.  As he approached he saw the dismembered leg lying beside her.  A few yards away, most of an arm was lodged in the broken grill of a Camry.  Gabe recognized the bits of tattered cloth clinging to the limbs.  

"_Sarah one, ghoul nothing. _"

"We'd better find her soon," Gabe stammered.  "Before something worse happens."



© 2003 Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Jun 28, 2003)

Thanks for the update Lamprolign.  Too many story hours not enough time.


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## Broccli_Head (Jun 29, 2003)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> *021
> 
> 
> "Sarah one, ghoul nothing. "
> ...




Heh, heh


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## fenzer (Jul 8, 2003)

bump.


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## Lamprolign (Jul 10, 2003)

Fear not Fenzer, while life is still completely upside-down there will be a new story post on Friday!


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## fenzer (Jul 10, 2003)

Lamp, you're a good man.  I hope all is well.


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## Lamprolign (Jul 11, 2003)

*First Sight installment 22*

022

_I can still remember you
Like a wish that won't come true
All the rumors do add up
Do they always?

Still water does run deep
Your currents pull me through my sleep
It goes away but then comes back
Will it always? _

- The Samples, _Still Water _

Sarah ran beside a narrow street lined by neatly maintained old houses.  Bare-limbed trees formed a broken ceiling above her.  Tears welled in the girl's eyes, eyes that had seen everyone she had ever cared about destroyed.  She remembered her father and brother.  Their loss was a hollow ache deep in her chest.  She didn't understand how, but she knew she was to blame.  

Sarah remembered the night it happened.  She remembered the horror of waking in the center of a smoldering pit where her house once stood.  She remembered the remnants of a terrifying nightmare in which she had been relentlessly pursued ... by what?  She could not remember.  

That morning, a rare clear and sunny winter's day in upstate New York, remained vivid in her mind.  Her mother frantically  packed what few belongings she could salvage from their ruined home.  Her back turned to Sarah as she rummaged through the debris.  Sunlight glinted strangely through her mother's chestnut colored hair, distorted by the tears filling her eyes.  

"Where are we going, Mommy?"  Sarah's voice quavered.

"We're going to see your auntie in Chicago."  Her mother's voice broke and she let the bag slip from her hands.  For a moment she remained silent..  Then her shoulders straightened.  She turned to her daughter, a grim resolve on her pale face.  When she spoke again her voice was strong and reassuring.  "She'll help us.  We can stay there as long as we need.  It's going to be okay, baby girl."

"Okay."

The trip seemed neverending, and the train became her world.  Her mother would only let her sleep for a few minutes at a time.  Sarah could not understand why, and she became irritable and short-tempered.  All her mother would tell her was that it wasn't good to sleep on a train. 

The train finally arrived at Chicago Union Station after midnight.  After making their way through the disembarking crowd, they paused on a bench to rest for a moment.  Sarah's mother neared collapse from exhaustion.  The last memory Sarah had was her mother's sleeping face.  Then she had snuggled up beside her and fallen asleep herself.  She dreamed about seeing the city from high up in the sky, all the pretty lights...then falling.  When she awoke she was alone, and not where she had fallen asleep.  She sprawled at the base of a bridge, beside a small stream.  Sounds of traffic had awakened her, the raucous call of morning rush hour.  

She wandered until this morning.  For a brief moment she thought she might no longer be alone... but like her previous life, the moment crumbled before her.

Sarah's pace slowed as exhaustion filled her limbs with sand.  Shivering against the chill wind, she looked around her.  Her attention focused on a house ahead of her.  A dozen shingles from the roof lay scattered near its front door.  Boards partially covered all the windows The house might once have been white.  What little paint remained was splotched with dark mildew.  All seemed quiet around it.  Maybe she could rest in there awhile, out of the wind.

****
"Ansgar, you sure seem to have a nose for trouble."  Jake Brewer sat on the fender of a scorched Civic, arms across his thick torso.  "But I don't know why you're sniffing around here.  What part of 'suspended' don't you understand?"

"_This guy sure is a charmer, _" Mary said.  "_He smells bad too. _"

"Nice to see you, too, Jake."  Gabe repressed a smile at Mary's comments.  "What are you doing out here in the 'burbs?"

"Locals called in the big boys.  Call it municipal cooperation.  You know, all that Homeland Defense jazz.  The feds are going to be all over this one soon, though."  Brewer snorted with contempt.  Jake waved a meaty hand with fingers like short, fat sausages in the direction of the disembodied leg.  "Looks like we've got a suicide bomber here."

Gabe looked around the scene.  _Suicide?  Yeah, but the bomb is a little girl, and this is what happens to anyone crazy enough to get near her. _

"_That little girl is alone and scared. _"

_I know. _

"Well," Jake's rough voice shattered Gabe's reverie.  "What'cha got?  I figured you'da cracked this one open by now.  Jack Casey says you're the best ... oh yeah, Casey's not around anymore, is he?  Still haven't heard an explanation for what happened that night that passes the old smell test."

Gabe said nothing, but his face hardened and his glare bore a hole in the beefy detective.

"_Calm down, Gabe," _ cautioned Mary.  _"I've never felt so much rage inside you.  Anger is dangerous in those with the talent. _"

_Wonderful, _thought Gabe, _now you sound like Yoda.  Look out for the Dark Side. _  But in his mind's eye he was reliving the devastation he had seen this morning, and sensed that Mary was right.  Of course, the kind of raw power the little girl had displayed was beyond the kin of Gabe's rather limited bag of tricks.

"So, did you see anything?"  Gabe realized that Brewer was returning his fiery stare.

"Nope," Gabe responded, casting his eyes down at his feet.  "I was a block away when the bomb went off.  By the time I got here it looked pretty much like you see now, minus thick-skulled detectives walking all over a scene."

"You're getting into a habit of being in the middle of some ing bizarre cases, Ansgar, and not seeing a damned thing."  Brewer examined Gabe through narrowed eyes.  "Someday soon you and I are going to have a long talk about what happened back at the Abrams scene.  I think you're hiding something."

"Guys like you shouldn't think, Brewer.  It's dangerous.  Leave that to the pros."  Gabe turned on his heel and strode away.  The only thing that kept him from flying into a rage was the fact that, as blunt as he might be, Brewer was a good cop at heart.  Brewer had also been a friend of Jack Casey's.  And deep down, Gabe did feel responsible for Jack's death.

"_There really isn't anything you could have done, Gabe, _" Mary consoled.  "_It was beyond your control from the moment Abrams cast that spell. _"

"Rationally I know that, but it doesn't make it any easier."  Gabe stopped and looked around the shopping center parking lot.  "I'll muddle through.  We've still got to find that kid before she blows something else up."

****
Several forms huddled close to an old steel barrel, basking in scant heat radiating from a wad of burning trash.  

"Strange things happening around here lately."  The speaker leaned closer to the fire, endangering his unkempt salt-and-pepper beard.  He straightened to his full six-foot height as if realizing his eminent peril.

"What kind of things?"  A younger man, wild blond hair sticking out from beneath the hood of a battered coat, huddled closer. 

The bearded man met the younger man's brilliant blue eyes for a moment then gazed back into the fire.

"People disappearing, more than norm...."  A violent coughing fit seized him.

"You all right, man?"

"I'll live," the older man answered after a few minutes.  "Nobody cares about us down here, though."

"Somebody might, old man, somebody might." the young man backed away from the fire.  "Be careful.  I'll see you tomorrow."

A grunt was the only response.  Asher Russell walked briskly out of the alley.  He roamed the south side of the city, through some of the old warehouse districts.  He'd heard from people working at several shelters that the numbers of homeless people disappearing had jumped dramatically.  The police never paid much attention to these areas and since no bodies turned up, they weren't spending any extra resources on it.

Asher smelled a story.  Situations like these always appealed to the humanity of the readers, and more importantly to his editor.  Anyway, it sold copy.  Asher shook his head at the irony of the lot.  The very lack of humanity that these stories often exposed was really what drove the newspapers to investigate.  _So much for the altruism of man,_ Asher thought.  He glanced at the sign marking the Kedzie station on the Orange Line.  After climbing to the platform he jumped around in impatience and to generate some additional body heat against the cold.  

A young woman sat huddled on one of the benches, waiting for the train.  She didn't look around or move beyond the rhythmic expansion of her breathing.  Asher stopped bouncing around for a moment to look more closely at her.  _She might be cute_, he thought as he nonchalantly wandered nearer to her.  He looked closer.  Some recognition tickled the back of his mind.  Something was very familiar about the wavy brown hair that escaped the confines of the knit stocking cap she wore.  Asher stopped a few paces away.

"Damned cold out tonight isn't it?" he asked of no one in particular.

His speech echoed around the deserted train platform.  _Unfriendly sort_, Asher thought.  His curiosity still controlled his brain.  He really wanted a good look at the woman's face.  Asher walked the length of the platform, casually glancing as he passed the woman to get a better look.  She continued to sit still, staring at the gray cement floor.  Her hair helped to obscure her face from Asher's inquisitive stare.  The feeling of familiarity still crawled around inside his skull.

****

The pond's surface rippled in the breeze that swept through the cemetery, yet remained clear of any reflections save the lanterns which hung around its edge.  A deep sigh escaped the Sister.  She sat, as she had for hours, wrapped in layers of woven wool and a heavy felted cloak.  Two long braids of gray and brown hair emerged from beneath the cloak's hood, reaching the ground where she sat.  The hour of midnight had come and passed bringing with it no news of the lost child.  Worry lines etched the Sister's normally serene face, sadness weighted her eyes.

The pond's surface remained void.  An unknown power blocked the pond's energy, of this she was now certain. Was it a manifestation of Sarah's uncontrolled abilities, or was an intermeddler interfering with their search?

"Sister!"

The distressed cry shattered her contemplation.  She turned toward the old church building.  A stooped, elderly woman stood framed in the central of the three doors opening from the church onto the graveyard.

"What is wrong, Leila?"  She rose fluidly from the ground.

"That rascal Asher has returned again, Sister," the old woman spoke with the hint of a Scottish accent, "and he's brought another wayward child with him."

The Sister moved swiftly in the church, cloak swirling in her wake.  Leila stepped inside and pointed down the corridor to her right.  There a door stood half-ajar, voices drifting out into the hallway.

"...I don't know how long she'd been there," Asher replied to someone in the room, "and I thought she'd had a kid about the time I left."

"She did."  The Sister stepped across the threshold.  "Where did you find her?" 



© 2003, Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Jul 16, 2003)

Thanks for the update.  Keep them coming!


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## Jodo Kast (Jul 26, 2003)

BUMP!  C'mon, Lampy, back to the mines!


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## Velenne (Jul 27, 2003)

Ya don't keep us waiting!   

(I can sympathize.  My own SH is chronically overdue as my life has been incredibly busy and draining on my creativity.  Take your time.  )


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## Lamprolign (Jul 29, 2003)

We're looking good for an update on Wednesday.  The draft is finished and is in editing now...  Keep your fingers crossed for me!


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## fenzer (Jul 29, 2003)

Lamp, this news is like an ice cold glass of lemonaid on a hot summers day.  

I think I'll pull out my lawn chair, sit back, relax, hold out my glass, and wait for my next refill.


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## Lamprolign (Jul 30, 2003)

023

_Something in my fate says it's not right for me
Tell me
Am I cursed or am I blessed?
I can't tell, oh yes!
'Cause all is well between the breasts of
Passenger and slave
I'll never make it out alive to join
The witches' rave_ 
 - Jeff Buckley, _The Witches' Rave _


Rats scurried into small crevices beneath piles of rubble, scrambling to escape the source of footfalls that echoed emptily against the rough-hewn tunnel walls.  Soon their small eyes squinted against three candles that circled slowly in the air.  Beneath the spinning candles walked a woman.  Tall and lithe, she moved with a confidence born of power.  Straight black hair cascaded over her shoulders, reaching halfway to her waist, framing a face as pale and delicate as porcelain.  Dark eyes swept coldly across the quivering rodents in their sanctuary.

Ahead, orange light played across the tunnel ceiling evidencing a conflagration hidden by a sharp curve in the tunnel.  No rodents hid among the rubble there.  The pungent odor of phosphor washed across the woman as she strode into the flickering light.  A perfunctory wave of her hand sent the candles spinning away to hover near the ceiling, awaiting the return of their mistress.   

As the woman approached the light source, she saw the rusting hulk of a steam locomotive resting upon a short remnant of steel tracks.  Its crew compartment was blasted open.  A silhouette sat framed by the intense orange-white flames spilling from the open firebox inside. 

"Have you found the girl?"  The voice sounded more akin to the rumbling of stone against stone than human speech.

"No, my lord," the woman bowed gracefully, "I have not."

"The coven cannot be allowed to find her."  The silhouette stirred, light caught on dark leathern skin.  "We are too few to allow one born of such power to escape us."

The woman regarded her master with outward calm.  She could feel eyes boring into her but could not bring her gaze to meet them.  She shivered imperceptibly, chilled in spite of the inferno.  _At what price power_, she wondered.

"The ghouls have her scent.  We shall not fail, Master."

****

_Damn!  I wish I'd brought a heavier coat_, Gabe thought, rubbing his hands together in a vain attempt to restore feeling.

"_My, aren't you the stalwart hero._"

"The Sister better find a way to return you to your body soon, or..."

"_Or what, tough guy_?"

Gabe squeezed his temples in frustration.  "Pretty soon it's going to come down to me or you.  There's not enough room in my mind for both of us!"

"_Then get a bigger brain.  Whiny loser._"

Gabe let out an exasperated sigh and looked around.  They were in an old but well kept residential neighborhood on the eastern edge of Rosemont.  Gabe's home was only a few blocks away.  The afternoon and evening had been spent in fruitless search.  Mary's frustration had grown in time with his own, leading to the sparring in his head.  A chill wind scraped past him, blasting his dry skin.

_That's it!  I'm going to get another coat.  No way I'm freezing my nuts off while you're curled up warm inside my head_.  Gabe turned  to go home, but stopped abruptly.   

The low sounds of distant traffic distorted, as a tape when played too slowly.  He closed his eyes against a surge of vertigo that nearly sent him to the ground.  An image flashed through his mind.  A house, abandoned, with boarded windows.  Dark shapes moved stealthily through the  snow-covered yard, converging at the front door.

"_Ghouls_!" Mary gasped.

Gabe's eyes snapped open.  The vision had been unlike the others, a fleeting moment of insight.  He changed direction again and ran.  He knew where the little girl was.  He only hoped he could make it in time... 

****
Soft light illuminated the woman's pale skin.  Her brows drew together over a scowl of pain and fear before she relaxed in seemingly peaceful slumber, only to stir restlessly again moments later.  Mumbled words  burbled out with each scowl.  Occasionally her pale blue eyes flicked open, but she saw nothing in the room.  Blankets and pillows carefully tucked around her kept her from falling out of bed.  

"What's wrong with her?"  Asher Russell leaned against the wood-paneled wall near the foot of the bed.

"I'm not certain."  The Sister  stood at the bedside, studying the young woman.  "Was she like this when you found her?"

"No," Asher responded.  "She was still.  I thought she was dead until I felt her pulse."

"Aside from some mild hypothermia, there seems to be nothing physically wrong with her.  But she's been through great emotional trauma."

"I haven't seen Becky since she left," Asher stated flatly.  "Didn't she do the whole family thing?"

"Yes."  The Sister's voice was heavy with sadness.  "She did.  Her husband and son are gone.  Mary and Gabriel are searching for her daughter as we speak."

Asher stood quietly looking at the woman's face.  He was surprised that after all these years her appearance had stirred up old emotions within him.  She was a year older than him, and had arrived at the Haven a few months before him.  Over time Asher developed a serious crush on the girl.  

_A one way street that led to a dead end.  I thought I left behind any feelings for her when I left this place_.  For the first time it occurred to him that it was odd he had taken her to the Haven, and not to a hospital.  After all this time running away, lately it seemed the place called out to him and all roads led to its door.

She  mumbled again.  The Sister leaned closer, examining the woman's face and listening carefully.

"They're after her ... won't leave her alone, why ... after her... my baby... have to find her... they're close...  get away, get away from her!"

The Sister's eyes widened, images flashed through her mind.  A deserted street, a house with boarded windows....  

"Asher, stay with her."  The Sister's cane flew from where it rested on the wall, landing in her grasp with an audible thwack.  She whirled, exiting the room in a flurry of woolen hem.  "POE!"

****

The child lie with knees pulled tight against her chin.  For many hours nothing inside the house stirred save a lone rat scampering through the dwelling.  The child lay unmoving and the rat had largely ignored her.  Now it approached the still form with hesitation.  Something that size would feed it for weeks.  It crept closer.

The child uncoiled, one arm thrashing out, impacting inches from the terrified rat.  In a flurry of scraping claws it bolted across the bare hardwood floor, disappearing into the darkness.  The child groaned and rolled in her sleep.  Sarah dreamed...

****

She stood on an ashen plain.  Shifting veils of black mist closed in around her.  Through infrequent breaks in the clouds she saw shapes moving in random directions.  She watched them.  They appeared as luminous man-shaped forms, but dark heavy bands encased the light.  From the harnesses thick tethers disappeared into the mist.  The fettered shapes moved closer, lurching forth in an awkward fashion that reminded her of the old dinosaur movies her brother had loved.  Chill feathers of dread swept across her skin, sending shivers through her body.  She stepped back and turned.  In the distance she saw another radiant form, different from the others.  This one bore no shackles, it's aurora unhindered by dark bonds.  In the distance it shimmered.  Sarah studied the unbound light.  It did not fill her with trepidation as the others did.  The apparition appeared unfocused, as if two separate images overlapped.    

A screech echoed across the dreamscape.  Sarah whirled toward the noise.  One of the tethered forms shambled quickly toward her.  The fear tickling her skin surged to panic in a heartbeat.  A circle of blue flame sprung into life around her, growing with each passing second.  Sarah looked around.  All the forms now moved toward her.  She looked around frantically, but soon she could see nothing through the wall of blue fire.  Images of her ruined house flashed through her mind.  She saw her father and younger brother on stretchers covered by sheets.  She saw Laura laying on the asphalt and the fires burning all around her.  It was all her fault.  She was to blame.  She thought about her mother and her mind flashed back to the stretchers covered by sheets.  

"No..." her small voice was swallowed by the mists.  "No, I didn't..."

Sarah collapsed to the ground.  She lay on the ground, curled into a tight ball.  Tears streamed down her face.  She did not want to hurt anyone else.  She did not want to fight anymore, did not want to live anymore.  The fire receded, swallowed by the darkness.  Around her the bound forms converged.

****

Gabe stumbled.  The air was sucked from his lungs.  It felt as if the universe were taking a great breath, sucking the air from every living thing.  Gabe's eyes closed and for a moment everything went black.  He pitched forward onto his knees, barely getting one hand on the ground in time to balance himself.  Then a blue light flickered ahead of him.  It grew and illuminated a grim landscape of black and ashen gray.

"She's there."

Gabe looked at his side.  Mary pointed toward the flame.  Beyond he saw movement through the mists.  The flame disappeared.  Air rushed into his lungs with an audible gasp.

Gabe's eyes snapped open.  He was kneeling on the icy sidewalk.  There in the distance was the abandoned house from his vision.  In the light of the streetlamps he saw a rag-swathed human shape shambling toward the front door.

"!"

Gabe barreled toward the house.  He felt the tingling warmth of adrenaline shooting through his limbs, and something else - _magic._

"_Caer'aroon naes naeor_!" 

Mary's voice rang in Gabe's head, echoed by his own in the blustery night air.  "Caer'aroon naes naeor!" 

A bolt of white energy flew unerringly toward the ghoul in the yard.  It cried out with the impact, a horrible, keening sound, and then collapsed in the snow.  Around both corners of the house other figures emerged.  They barely glanced at the smoldering heap in the snow before lurching forward to meet Gabe's charge.  

"_Six of them, two of us,_" Mary said.  "_I like our odds_." 

Normally Gabe would not have been as confident as his teenage headmate.  After all, most of his encounters with the bizarre inhabitants of his newly discovered world involved him running in the opposite direction.  But he could feel the adrenaline and the _magic_ coursing through him, his heart pounded like a wardrum inside his chest.

"Tharae curoon taranis!" Gabe's voice gave sound to Mary's words.

Electricity arced around Gabe's arms.  Without breaking stride he extended his left arm.  Energy leapt forward,  coursing around one of the ghouls and outlining distorted human features in its crackling light.  The ghoul fell to the ground thrashing, a gruesome snow-angel.  

Gabe heard chanting from the ghouls ranks.  _Not good_, he thought.  Dark red mists condensed around the ghouls into the writhing from of a serpent.  The mists coiled tighter, burst into flame, and then lunged outward.

"Sgiath!"  

The column of burning mist exploded against the perimeter of an unseen sphere surrounding Gabe.  Tendrils of flame arced off into the night, setting several nearby  trees ablaze.  

"Balaas aingeal!"  Crimson light swirled around Gabe's hand then stabbed forward into the ghouls' midst.

The ghouls scattered, their awkward strides carrying them faster than Gabe could have imagined.  Their movements were blurred and disjointed, somehow out of phase with this reality.  He lost sight of two as one surged forward to meet his charge.  Gabe heard the creature's muttered words, saw the red fire gather about its hands.  The flames streamed toward him, washing over his protective sphere.  Simultaneously two other streams struck from either side.  Gabe could feel intense heat radiating through.  With the crystalline sound of shattering glass the shield broke.  Gabe dropped and rolled, not avoiding the flames entirely.  He bit down hard against the pain searing across the side of his head.  

Gabe rolled to his feet some yards away, scorched, his head smoldering like an extinguished matchstick.  A heavy weight slammed into his back, sending him back to the ground with a jarring thud.  Long, gnarled fingers wrapped around his throat, fingertips pressed into his windpipe.  He could not draw breath.  His head felt heavy on his neck, his eyelids drooped, the pounding drumbeat of his heart tapered off into a rhythmic, hypnotic pulse

"_Gabe!  You have to fight_!"

Gabe shook his head.  He levered his arms beneath him and pushed hard off the ground.  Rolling to his side he was able to dislodge his attacker for an instant.  Gabe grabbed his left fist inside his right hand and with all his might pistoned his left elbow back to connect with the ghoul's jaw.  The impact dazed the creature.  Gabe rolled again, landing astride the creature in the snow.  He rained blow after blow upon its warped, gruesome visage until its head was buried in the snow and it ceased writhing beneath him.

Gabe sprang to his feet, fists held before him in a boxer's stance.  He spun in time to see another ghoul bearing down on him.  

"Éibheall!" 

A glowing orange sphere shot through the charging ghoul, leaving a smoldering hole where its midriff once was.  Gabe was beginning to think that maybe Mary was right, maybe they could take them.  

"Fulmen bellare!"  A woman's voice split the night, immediately followed by a blinding flash and the peal of thunder.

The ground exploded beside Gabriel.  He was flung into the air, landing hard in the midst of a thick evergreen hedge several yards away.  Gravel-sized bits of earth and pavement rained around him.  Gabe's ears rang and bright flashes of light stabbed at his retinas.  He couldn't quite make his arms or legs obey his will.  The flashes and consciousness faded quickly.

****

Cold dark eyes surveyed the street and swept up to the abandoned house.  A ghoul shambled out of the front door carrying a limp bundle.  The corners of the tall woman's mouth turned upward in a cruel smile.  Sarah was theirs at last.   


© 2003 Austin Hale


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## Broccli_Head (Jul 30, 2003)

Dang! The cavalry didn't get there in time


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## fenzer (Jul 31, 2003)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> *
> 
> The low sounds of distant traffic distorted, as a tape when played too slowly.  He closed his eyes against a surge of vertigo that nearly sent him to the ground.  An image flashed through his mind.  A house, abandoned, with boarded windows.  Dark shapes moved stealthily through the  snow-covered yard, converging at the front door.
> 
> *



Poetry Lamp, pure poetry.

Thanks for the update.


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## Lamprolign (Jul 31, 2003)

Thanks for the compliment!  This installment was a struggle and a good word goes a log way in making it all worth it.  Since posting I've seen a couple places where it needs major revision but I'm going to concentrate on getting the next installment out in a little more timely fashion. I'm hoping to get it posted in no more than ten days time.  As always, keep you fingers crossed, maybe eventually I'll get back to once a week!  Now, I'm gonna take a nap!


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## fenzer (Jul 31, 2003)

Careful what you dream.


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## fenzer (Aug 10, 2003)

How's it coming Lamp?

Anything I can do to help, sing, hum, white noise, dance?


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## Lamprolign (Aug 11, 2003)

024

_Been burned
and with both feet
on the ground,
I've learned
that it's painful
comin' down.
No use runnin' away,
and there's no time
left to stay.
Now I'm finding out
that it's so confusin',
No time left
and I know I'm losin'._

 - Buffalo Springfield, _Burned_


Gabe's mind seemed to float in a murky sea, bobbing in and out of foggy consciousness.  Sirens echoed faintly in his ears, providing an undulating background to women conversing in hushed tones.  The voices were vaguely familiar, but they seemed watery and distant.

"_I think he's hurt pretty badly._"

"I can see that, Mary.  How much of his sensations can you feel?"

"_It is muted, but I can feel enough to know that his body is in terrible pain.  I think it tripped a breaker in his brain - Gabe has left the building.  What does it look like from the outside?_"

"He is burned everywhere his skin was exposed.  We need to get him back to the Haven.  Poe..."

"This will make twice that I've carried this _bakayarou_ home."

"Be thankful that there's something left to carry, Poe.  Remember, however you may feel about Gabriel Ansgar, our own Mary's fate is inextricably tied to his."

Thin arms scooped Gabe from the ground and his head lolled back.  Gabe surfaced just long enough to glimpse flashing red and blue lights in the distance before slipping under another wave of darkness.

****

The clinking of china worked its way insidiously into Gabe's consciousness.  He breathed in the heavy aroma of baking bread.  One by one his senses reconnected to his brain.  His joints felt locked in place, his muscles screeched when he moved.  His skin felt as if he'd been flipped like a burger on a griddle, especially his face.  Gabe chuckled inwardly.  _I don't think this one's done yet.  The face is still a little pink around the cheeks.  Let's throw him back on for a minute._   He opened his eyes to stare at the now familiar tongue-and-groove ceiling of the Haven.

"_Welcome back,_" Mary greeted him.

"Uhg...."  Gabe felt his face gingerly.

"_It's still there.  The Sister was able to heal most of your wounds.  We were lucky._"

"I don't think I agree with your definition of luck."

The continued low clinking of dishes told Gabe that he must be in a room near the kitchen.  He propped himself on an elbow to survey the confined area.  There was a single door and no windows.  A small shaded lamp sitting on a light oak bureau cast the only light in the room.  Against the far wall a single overstuffed chair held a dark calico cat that regarded him with an unnerving stare.  

"Yeeesh," Gabe exclaimed softly.

"_What's the matter, Investigator?  Don't tell me you're afraid of a little cat,_" Mary asked innocently.

Gabe ignored Mary.  His attention centered on the cat that had risen indolently and indulged in a lengthy full body stretch.  It hopped from the chair and sauntered towards the door, which opened by itself, then closed after the cat.  Gabe looked after it quizzically.

"Ah, it is good to see you are awake."  The Sister swept into the room carrying a steaming mug and a plate containing several slices of bread dripping with butter, topped by globs of strawberry jelly.  She deposited the plate and mug atop the oak bureau.  "There is a bath down the hall to your right.  You will find fresh clothes there.  Eat quickly and bathe, then join us in the study."

Gabe stared at the door as it closed behind the Sister.  His mind wasn't quite running at operating temperature yet.  

"What happened?"

"_The bad guys got the little girl._"  Mary sounded despondent.  "_And we now know that they are blocking our scrying._"

"You know, magic is not the answer to everything.  I was pretty damn good at getting to the bottom of a mystery before you ever..."  Gabe's grumbling stomach interrupted him.

"_Eat.  The healing magic burns up your body's resources.  You have a lot of calories to regain_."

Gabe did not require additional prompting.  Before Mary had finished, his hands and face were grubby with strawberry jam and he was washing down the toast with greedy gulps of hot chai.  He couldn't shove it in fast enough.  The nourishing warmth in his stomach spread to his limbs and seemed to clear his head.  At that moment he could have kissed the Sister.  

"_And bathe, too.  You smell like burnt hair._"

****

*Three Families Homeless As Investigators Sift Through 
Wreckage Of Their Rosemont Homes For Clues To 
Cause Of Tragic Destruction*

Gabe caught the newspaper headline for a split second.  It flicked away before he could read more as his fellow passenger turned the page.  Gabe looked beyond him to study the bleak Chicago landscape.  The city seemed cramped and claustrophobic, mired as it was in gray low-hanging clouds.  He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the L train.  The clacking of the rails beat a steady tempo to the waxing and waning of nearby conversations. 

"_What are you going to do, Gabe?_"  Mary broke the silence in his head.

Gabe sighed and turned to face the aisle.  _First I need to know what information the cops have_.  Gabe stuck his lower jaw out as he thought.  _Then we're going to look over that house with a fine-toothed comb.  There may be something there that will give us a lead._

Mary remained silent.  She was upset, and though her pensive mood spoke well of her character, it did little to further their quest.  Another thought crossed Gabe's mind.  Maybe she was "giving him room" in his head to think.  They were at a loss to find Sarah through magical means.  It seemed that even the link Sarah shared with her mother had been severed.  The little girl's fate rested on Gabe's abilities as an investigator.  He sighed again. 

Gabe pulled his cell phone from a coat pocket and scrolled through its phone book function.  He pressed the call button when it came to Chris Ebbing's number.

"Hello!" Chris's voice crackled in Gabe's ear at the second ring.

"Hey kid," Gabe greeted.  "What are you into?"

"About twenty feet of raw sewage!  It's been a madhouse since the bombing.  The whole department's in an uproar, feds all over the place commandeering office space and generally making my life difficult.  They don't quite get that there's still all the normal idiots out there making trouble!"

Gabe raised an eyebrow in surprise.  He had never heard the typically unflappable photographer sound so agitated.  "I'd say, 'I wish I was there,' but I'd be lying."

"Well, I sure wish you were here!  The CSI unit is swamped!"  Chris snapped.  "And now there's a nice new mess in Rosemont that everybody and their uncle is getting involved in."

"Really?"

"I went with the CSI team, and it looked like a friggin' war zone out there.  Bomb craters and everything!  Whatever went down, there was some serious firepower involved.  People keep talking Al Qaeda, but Rosemont isn't exactly a high profile target.  I can't make any sense of it."

Gabe grinned ruefully.  _If you only knew what really happened._  "Did you guys get anything useful?"

"Not a damn thing," Chris growled.  "Just some crispy bodies in front of an abandoned house.  We don't have positive IDs yet, but based on their clothes and appearance I'm guessing they were homeless.  Poor bastards were probably just holed up in the old house trying to stay warm.  They got more than they bargained for, that's for sure."

Homeless people?  Gabe didn't recall seeing any bystanders.  "Nothing else, huh?"

"Not a thing.  No vehicles, no witnesses, nothing!  Any word on when you're coming back?"

"None yet."

"Don't make it a permanent vacation.  We need you here, man."  Chris sighed.  "Gotta split, dude.  There's a homicide scene on South Cicero waiting for the camera."

"Later, kid."

"See you around, old man."

Gabe shoved the cell into his coat pocket.  The durable device had survived all his recent scrapes in far better shape than he.  

"_Homeless people,_" Mary began.  "_I wonder..." 

Yeah, me, too.  _





© 2003 Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Aug 11, 2003)

Thanks Lamp.  I nice end to the weekend.


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## Lamprolign (Aug 11, 2003)

Glad to end the weekend on a high note Fenzer.  As always thanks for reading!


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## Broccli_Head (Aug 11, 2003)

I love a story hour where I am able to attempt to deduce the mystery along with the characters. Thanks guys!


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## Lamprolign (Aug 13, 2003)

*painting*

Hana at P.O. Bocks  made this really cool painting for First Sight.







I'm most impressed by the colors and texture of the work.  It brings to my mind the watery transitions from real-time to Gabe's visions.  This kinda stuff makes me really wish I could draw something besides flies!  A big thanks  to Hana!


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## Lamprolign (Aug 19, 2003)

025
_Images of sorrow, pictures of delight
Things that go to make up a life
Endless days of summer longer nights of gloom
Waiting for the morning light
Scenes of unimportance, photos in a frame
Things that go to make up a life_
- Genesis, _Home By The Sea_


The gentle crackle of burning logs, along with heat emanating from the tiny fireplace, lulled Asher into a semi-conscious state.  His mind wandered.  _Why am I still sitting here?  Why did I bring Becky here instead of calling an ambulance like a sane person?_ 

Asher studied Becky's sleeping face.  She was very much as he remembered her from years ago.  Perhaps there were a few lines around the eyes that hadn't been there, but there was a statuesque symmetry to her features that remained unchanged.

_A long time ago_, Asher thought.  _Seeing her again, I remember why I had such a crush on her._ 

He wondered at what she had gone through, having a family and then losing it.  Family  had been a foreign concept to him when he'd first come to the Haven.  In those days he railed against fate, God, society, anything or anyone he could blame for his lot.

With time, and more patience than he now thought mortally possible, the Sister had brought him into the fold, made him feel that he belonged there.  She insisted that he had a gift waiting to awaken.  

He'd stepped into a world that most regarded as myth.  

His ruminations were interrupted by the click of the door latch.

"Why are you still here?"  Poe looked at Asher through narrowed eyes.

"And when were you left in charge?"  Asher's response equaled the acid in Poe's voice.  "My business is my own. Take your 'dark and dangerous' act somewhere else."

"Why don't you do something more useful, like helping Gabe and Mary find the little girl?"

"I don't see you out looking."

"It's still daylight, ."

****

"Holy !"  Gabe exclaimed softly.

Craters pocketed the asphalt, just as Chris described it.  Everywhere there were scorch marks, some in improbable places.  Three nearby houses were burnt entirely to the ground.  Several more were only singed around the edges.  

"We did all this?"

"_The power should never have to be used this way._"  Mary's voice was distressed.  "_This is the kind of thing the Sister warns us about.  The craft can cause so much harm when loosed._"  

Gabe remained silent.  While not as dramatic as Sarah's display of power in the restaurant parking lot, the end was the same.  Looking to the abandoned house, Gabe noticed immediately that it stood relatively untouched, with only its yard surrounded by crime tape.  This was a huge scene to process.  He was mildly surprised that there were not still people on-site.  

_Sloppy.  They've got a bunch of chiefs and not enough Indians to go around.  Bureaucrats and politics!  No wonder Chris is freaking._

Skirting around the police tape, Gabe made his way to the backyard of the abandoned house.  A few sets of footprints broke the dirty snow pack leading from the narrow alley between the houses to the open back door.  Gabe stepped cautiously into the house, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the gloom permeating the abode.  He heard the scratching of rodents scurrying for shelter from the behemoth in their midst.  The air was redolent with mildew and rat urine.  

"Uhg."

"_What an incredible smell you've discovered._" 

"Aren't you a little young to be quoting Star Wars?"

"_Huh_?"

"Never mind," Gabe grumbled.

A uniform coating of pale dust covered the floor and countertops.  As Gabe's eyes adjusted he could see footprints in the dust.  Most were large, adult-sized, but near a corner of what was once a living room he saw a child's footprint.  Only one.  Any others were obliterated by the larger prints.  

In the corner a crude nest had been made of old newspapers and other detritus. Gabe clenched his jaw.  He imagined the child, cold and alone, huddling amidst the scant comfort her crude bed could provide.  Grim determination hardened Gabe's face as he continued to examine the scene.

A refracted beam of sunlight caught his attention.  Broken glass lay beneath one of the few windows not covered by plywood.  Shards of glass strewn inside the house indicated that whatever had broken the window had been traveling inward.  The wooden frame still held a jagged fringe of crystalline teeth.  A bit of rag dangled there.

Gabe examined it closely.  Loom-woven wool.  He could not discern its original color through the grime that permeated the weave.  The grime itself looked like ash of some kind.  He leaned close to the article and sniffed.  Gabe's brow furrowed at the smell, smoke, not wood smoke or diesel, something else.  His mind cast back through years of memories..._coal?_ 

"Well, well, look what we got here."

Gabe snapped upright, whirling at the familiar gravelly voice.

"I know you weren't just on your way for breakfast this time, Ansgar."  Jake Brewer hoisted his bulk through the open back door.  "What are you doing here?"

Gabe regarded the detective for a long moment before responding.  "This is damn near in my backyard, Brewer, and I'm not the sort to just sit around while a scene gets bungled like this one."  

"Bungled, huh?"  Brewer grunted.  "I suppose you're the only one with the brains to process a scene?"

"From what I've seen here, yeah, I am," Gabe answered brusquely.  

"Why don't you grace me with your brilliance, Sherlock?"

Gabe's hackles rose at the detective's remark.  "For starters, no one bothered to tape off this house, and I can tell from the five minutes I've been in here that only a cursory sweep was made.  Look at this window."  Gabe pointed toward the maw of splintered glass.

"Yeah?"

"Someone broke though this window recently.  There's no dust on the edges of the pieces.  Oh, and look at this."  Gabe's voice filled with sarcasm.  "A piece of cloth caught on the pretty glass in the frame.  Hmmm.  Now, I know it's a lot to ask to catch every little detail at a crime scene, especially one as out of sight as this one..."

"It's a piece of cloth.  Big deal."

"This piece of cloth could tell you where it's been.  It's coated in ash..."

"This whole ing block was on fire last night, Ansgar!  Of course it's coated in ash."

"How many coal fires were here last night?"

"Coal?"

"Yes, coal."  Gabe stepped to one side of the window.  "Smell it.  Everything that burns leaves a distinctive odor.  That's not burning house or diesel or napalm.  It's coal."

"So what?  Just what the hell does that tell you?"

"Nothing by itself, but if the same level of attention was given to the rest of the scene, then there's no telling what else might have been missed."

"Well, then it's a good thing that the Amazing Ansgar is here to save us poor bungling morons from our own incompetence!"

Gabe snatched the piece of cloth from the window.  "And look at the material itsel..."  

He stopped abruptly as the image of the stocky detective before him blurred and dissolved, a watercolor painting washing away.  

Gabe stood in a dark alley.  Flickering light warped shadows back and forth across the aging brick walls.  A few yards ahead he saw its source.  Flames leaped above the rim of a steel drum around which huddled three hunched silhouettes.  They leaned close to the fire, speaking in hushed voices.

"Hatch disappeared last night."

"Maybe he just moved on."

"Elmer said he saw someone grab him."

"Who would want any of us?

"I don't know.  I just know I'm scared."

The fire burned lower in the barrel.  One of the speakers raised his hand toward the barrel and the flames shot up.

"How'd you do that, man?!"

"I don't know.  I just think about the fire getting higher and it does."

"That's pretty cool!"

"Hasn't done me a damn bit of good."

"It's still cool.  And handy on a night like this."

Gabe watched, perplexed by this vision.  He heard a scuffing noise, shoes scraping across pavement.  He heard Mary's sharp intake of breath.  She backed into him.  A shuffling form moved into his field of view from behind.  He recognized the disjointed movements of a ghoul.  

Two more ghouls emerged from the shadows on the opposite side of the circle of light emanating from the barrel.  They converged quickly on the trio.  One man turned in time to see the unnatural shape moving toward him.  His gurgled scream cut short as the ghoul neatly twisted his head completely backwards.  The second unfortunate was dispatched with equal efficiency.  

The remaining man, the one who had manipulated the fire, backed into the arms of the third.  

Its gnarled hand snapped over the man's mouth.  The man struggled a moment, then went limp.  The ghoul tossed the raggedy bundle over its shoulder and swiftly vanished into the shadows with its compatriots.  

"Oh my God!"  Mary gasped.  "Someone is harvesting to make ghouls!"



© 2003 Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Aug 19, 2003)

Yes! Yes!  I want more.  I'm loving this Lamp.  Keep these updates coming.


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## Lamprolign (Sep 4, 2003)

026
_If the night turned cold
And the stars looked down
And you hug yourself
On the cold cold ground
You wake the morning
In a stranger's coat
No-one would you see
You ask yourself, 'Who'd watch for me?'
My only friend, who could it be?
It's hard to say it
I hate to say it
But it's probably me_

-Sting, _It's Probably Me_

"Ansgar!"  Jake Brewer's rough voice jolted Gabe back from the vision.  "What the hell is the matter with you?!"

Gabe examined the beefy detective's blocky, scuffed shoes, avoiding eye contact.  "Nothing.  I'm fine."

"Like hell you are!" Brewer snorted.  "Normally people don't stop mid-sentence and stare into space for five minutes."

"I was thinking."  Gabe's voice was uneven, his head still spinning from the vision.

"Must've been one hell of a thought."  Brewer rubbed his stubbled jaw and eyed Gabe suspiciously.  "You on something?"

"Get bent."  Gabe turned deliberately toward the door.  "I've seen all I need here."

"I've seen plenty myself, smartass.  I haven't figured your place in the puzzle yet, but you keep turning up like a bad penny lately.  If you're holding out information on me, I'll get obstruction charges on you so fast it'll..."

"It's been a real pleasure, Brewer," Gabe interrupted.  "But your whole routine plays like a broken record, and I'm done dancing."

"I've still got questions for you, Ansgar!"

"The Cubs will win the pennant, to get to the other side, and yes, that trenchcoat does make you look fat.  You want any more answers, you're just going to have to roll up your sleeves and do some old fashioned detective work.  I'm outta here."  Gabe waved over his shoulder as he exited the house.  

****

Asher Russell stepped into the great hall of the old church.  Dishes clattered as the Haven residents served hot meals to the hungry.  The air was redolent with the fragrance of fresh baked bread and the pungent fumes of the unwashed.  Asher willed his nose not to wrinkle at the smell, and glanced up at a familiar placard hanging above the doorway he had just passed through.  

"Give To Him That Asketh Thee. "  Asher read the inscription aloud.  Here it was more than just a sign on a wall.  It was a way of life.  In the many years he had known the Sister, he had never seen her turn away a person in need.  Asher surveyed the rapidly filling tables.  Most would consider these people worthless bums, and some of them undoubtedly were responsible for their own circumstances, but they were never judged here.  They were all just hungry people.  

"Your behavior has been quite admirable today, Asher."  The Sister's voice startled him.  She had a way of sneaking up on people.  "Perhaps you learned something in your time here, after all."

"Well, I, um, I was just...." 

"Have you come down for dinner?  We have Shepherd's Pie tonight."

Asher's growling stomach answered for him.  

"Go and eat, young man," the Sister ordered before gliding away with a swirl of her earth-toned dress and apron strings.  

Asher watched her moving among the eating people, giving her smiles freely and listening with genuine interest to all who sought her ear.  Although she was known only as the Sister, she was the quintessential mother figure.  _The only mother I ever really had,_ Asher thought as he helped himself to a large portion of shepherd's pie at the serving counter.  He saw Poe enter through one of the many doors edging the great room.  She strode purposefully toward the front doors, where Gabe Ansgar was just coming in from the blustery night.  Gabe's expression was grim as he and Poe conversed briefly.  Asher started towards them, anxious for news of the search for Becky's daughter, but before he had taken a step a bony hand grasped his elbow.  Asher turned to see a painfully thin, world-weary old man staring up at him from over a finished plate. 

"You r-r-r-r-emind me of muh-muh-muh-my suh-son," the man finally managed to say.  His watery eyes spoke of some heartbreaking loss.  

Ignoring his stomach's audible protest, Asher sat his own steaming plate of food on the table before the thin man.  "Here old fella, have some more.  I have to get going."  Asher stopped after just a few steps, however, and turned back to the man.  "My name's Asher.  Asher Russell.  I have some work to do right now, but next time I see you, I'd be glad to talk, you know, I mean, if you want to...."

The old man smiled and nodded.  "I'd l-l-l-like that.  Now g-g-g-get guh-guh-goin', suh-son.  Suh-suh-see you 'round."

Asher did not notice the Sister hovering nearby, watching the scene unfold with a warm look of pride on her face.  The moment did not last long, as she quickly bustled off to her study to await Gabe and Mary.  

****

"Did you find anything?"  Poe demanded before Gabe had even closed the door behind him. 

"Yes and no," Gabe responded cryptically.

"You're so ing useless."

"_Simmer down, Poe,_" Mary admonished.  "_We did find out that whoever has Sarah has been snatching homeless people to make ghouls._"

"Sister's gonna be pissed."

****

"Now, Gabriel," the Sister settled into her usual chair near the fireplace.  "What have you found?"

Gabe flopped in a chair opposite the Sister while Poe and Asher remained standing.  Gabe recounted his conversation with Chris Ebbing and his examination of the scene.  Asher listened with rapt attention as Gabe described the details of the encounter with Brewer.  His eyes grew wide when Gabe described the vision.

"Kidnapping?" Asher asked, an edge in his voice.

"And a murder," Gabe responded.  "They seemed very particular about who they where carrying off."

"That is because a ghoul servant can only be made from someone who has the gift.  This is worse than I feared.  I had believed the practice of creating thralls was extinct.  It appears I was mistaken."

"Is that why they took Sarah?"  Poe asked in a low voice.

"No," the Sister replied.  "One with the level of power that Sarah possesses could never be controlled by the magics used to create a ghoul.  I believe her captor has something else in mind for her...."

Asher stood silently, deep in thought, then suddenly interrupted the conversation with a loud snap of his fingers.  .

"I think I know where to start looking..."



© 2003, Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Sep 4, 2003)

Bless you Lamp.  I was beginning to worry, thinking you might have forgotten your biggest fan.  

Thanks for another great update.  Post soon.


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## honorwolf (Sep 4, 2003)

I will add to the accolades: GREAT STORY Lamp!


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## Broccli_Head (Sep 4, 2003)

fenzer said:
			
		

> Bless you Lamp.  I was beginning to worry, thinking you might have forgotten your biggest fan.
> 
> Thanks for another great update.  Post soon.




Dang! I guess you're right, Fenzer. You have 11 more posts than I do.


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## fenzer (Sep 5, 2003)

And I can tell you that it has nothing to do with lurking on these boards day in and day out anxiously waiting for the next update.

I have a life, really.


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## recursive_1 (Sep 16, 2003)

Update please...I'm going into withdrawl here.


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## Pyske (Sep 16, 2003)

[mock anger]Pfeh, that's just _fine_.  I suppose now, I'll have to follow a _third_ story hour. [/mock anger]

Seriously, 'though, amazing writing.  Definitely professional quality.  I look forward to reading the rest.

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


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## Lamprolign (Sep 16, 2003)

*When will the next update be???*

Thanks for the comments!  Once again nasty evil things like work (been pulling 12 to 16 hour days routinely) keep getting in the way of writing.  Fear not though for the work is proceeding, albeit at a snail's pace these past few weeks.  I am going to try (really) and get another installment up by the end of the week.  Wish me luck!


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## fenzer (Sep 17, 2003)

Lamp, you're a good man.  I was getting the shakes holding the Menace Manual in my hands thinking of all the fun and nasty things I'm going to read about thanks to this lovely jem.

Post soon, I don't know how long I can hold on.


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## Pyske (Sep 22, 2003)

My first session playing D20 Modern is Friday. Any chance for a little inspirational reading before then?


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## Lamprolign (Sep 23, 2003)

027
_There's a blood red circle 
on the cold dark ground 
and the rain is falling down 
The church doors blown open 
I can hear the organ's song 
But the congregation's gone 

My city of ruins 
My city of ruins 

My City of Ruins_, Bruce Springsteen


"I think I know where to start looking..."

All eyes in the room turned to Asher.

"I've been investigating a string of disappearances among the homeless on the South Side.  Disappearances that the CPD has been doing damned little about."  Asher looked pointedly at Gabe.

"Can you show us where?"

Everyone turned towards the door.  Sarah's mother stood leaning heavily against the frame.

"Becky!"  Asher jumped from where he leaned on one of the overstuffed chairs, crossing the room swiftly.  

"Rebecca," the Sister said rising from the chair, her voice filled with sympathy.  "Come here child."

Becky's face was a study of grim determination as she crossed the room.  The Sister laid a hand lightly on Becky's arm and looked at her intently.  

"How much do you remember?"

****

She moved swiftly through the now dark cavern, the sharp reports of her hard-soled boots echoing from a ceiling obscured in shadow.  The shattered locomotive sat cold and dark; the being who claimed the twisted iron as a throne was gone again.  He often disappeared for brief periods, relishing his newfound freedom in this world.  Karin laid a hand lightly upon the cold metal, and sat in her master's chair.  A thin smile played across her face.  _Soon_, she thought, _I will be in control and he will once again be the servant_.  The sound of soft shoes scuffing across stone floor broke her reverie.  She rose, brushing a thick shock of raven hair away from her face.

"What?"

A bent figure, swathed in the ragged remains of clothing, shuffled towards her, bowing repeatedly as it came.

"The child is waking," it spoke, keeping its gazed trained upon the ground at her feet.

She kicked the groveling creature as she passed.  _Good_, she thought.  _It can begin..._

****

The soft ticking of an old-fashioned wind up clock was the first thing to penetrate the thick veil of sleep.  She felt warm and comfortable, snuggled amidst piles of soft blankets.  Dim warm light diffused through her eyelids.  She opened her eyes to see a smooth ceiling above her.  The click of a door latch drew her attention.  She sat up quickly and looked around.  The room was small.  Its walls were smooth and featureless like the ceiling.  She was on a small bed amidst several fuzzy tan blankets.  A straight-backed chair and a four-drawer dresser with a wood framed mirror atop it were the only other furnishings.

"Good morning, sweetie," came a voice that Sarah dared not believe was real.

"Momma?"  She sat up swiftly, looking toward the voice.  "MOMMA!"  Sarah leapt off the bed and flew into her mother's arms.  "Momma, where have you been?  I couldn't find you!"  Sarah buried her face in the woman's shoulder.  

"It's all right Sarah, I'm with you now."  

She held the child closely to her.  Glancing into the mirror across the room she saw a tall raven-haired woman smiling smugly back at her... 

****

"_Lovely place_," Mary commented.

Gabe looked up and down the street.  The area had been a burgeoning business district during the heyday of the railways.  Streets that once carried the hustle of commerce now saw only those seeking shelter from the elements or authorities in the abandoned buildings.  He turned around and looked at Becky and Asher.

"Okay, this is your lead.  Where do we start?"

Asher looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes.  "All the disappearances that _I've_ investigated have been in this area.  I say we just spread out.  I know several of the locals now.  I'll go around and see what I can find out."  

"You do that," Gabe said to the reporter's retreating back.  His attention turned to Becky.  Dark circles framed eyes that roamed around their dismal surroundings.  "How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," her head turned toward him in the gathering dark.  

"We'll find her."  _Yeah, you sound real convincing Ansgar._  "Let's go."  He started walking in the same general direction that Asher had taken a moment earlier.

"_Don't beat yourself up.  I don't think any words would make this easier on her_."

They walked for several minutes in silence.  There were no people moving about under the few functioning streetlamps.  It was a ghost town sitting in the shadow of sky scrapers.  Asher rounded a corner just ahead walking quickly towards them.

"All the regulars are gone.  I can't find anyone out tonight."

"Well that's useful."  Gabe continued walking along the broken concrete sidewalk.  _At least Poe isn't here._

"_She's dragged your sorry ass out of the fire a few times now.  I'd have thought you might think a little better of her._"  

_Let me grumble in peace.  It's how I deal.  She's probably much happier searching the other end of the hood with the Sister anyway_.  He looked around again to get his bearings.  They had come four blocks into this ghetto and it remained eerily deserted.  Turning sharply he entered a broad alley between two brick warehouses.  He heard Asher's voice behind him.

"It will be all right, we'll find her..."

Gabe stopped abruptly, causing Asher to walk into him. 

"Hey, what gives?!"

"This alley looks familiar."  He looked to his left and saw a fifty-gallon steel drum lying on its side.  Ash and bits of charred wood spilled from its maw.  "This is where..."

The steel drum was standing upright, flames danced above its rim.  Three men stood silhouetted in the flame's light, hunched over the feeble warmth.  One of the men pointed his hand at the barrel and the flames grew higher.  Gabe took an unconscious step backward as ghouls swept down upon the unfortunate men.  In the space of a breath two men lay dead and the third was being whisked away.   Gabe ran after them.  He heard footfalls and looked over to see Mary's white-blond hair streaming as she ran beside him.

****

"Where the hell are you going!?"  Asher yelled after Gabe as he sprinted down the alley.  He looked quizzically at Becky.

"Follow him!  He sees something we can't!"

****

His chest felt as though it were about to implode with his effort to breathe.  The ghouls, even with their burden, stayed just ahead of him.  Broken cloud cover cast a whirling patchwork of pale light and shadow as it raced across the quarter moon.  Mary ran effortlessly beside him, seeming to glide across the patchwork of frozen grime that covered the pavement.  

Their quarry changed direction abruptly, darting into a warehouse, windows and doors uncovered, gaping portals into the abyss.  He slowed for a split second before plunging into the smothering darkness within.  Inside, his eyes roamed without seeing but somehow he _knew_ where the walls were.  He _knew_ where the ghouls were.  He leapt over a pile of broken boards in his path as if running in broad daylight.  On into the bowels of the building the ghouls continued, down two flights of stairs into blackness so absolute as to have substance.

****

Asher skidded to a halt in the pitch dark of the warehouse.

"Damn!"

"Wait," Becky said after colliding with him from behind.  "_Lòchran_"  

An orb of reddish light appeared at her left shoulder, hanging stationary in space.

Asher gritted his teeth.  Things were getting freaky again.  He could stop now, convince himself that none of this was happening, and go back to living in the real world.  After all, it was what he had done years ago when he left the Haven behind.  He saw the hurt look in Becky’s eyes and realized she must be reading the indecision on his face.  He took her hand and gave her a tight little smile, the best he could muster under the circumstances.

"Cool, let's go."

They sprinted after Gabe, the orb of light remaining fixed above Becky's shoulder.  They had lost sight of him, but could hear footfalls reverberating out of a gaping door that lay open ahead of them.  

****

The ghouls darted across a subbasement floor so thickly covered in fine dust as to resemble snow.  Gabe pumped his legs harder, trying to close the distance.  Mary still paced him easily.  A large steel door on rails stood pushed to one side revealing an opening into a tunnel that sloped into the earth.  Twin steel rails, miniature railroad tracks, nearly cost Gabe his footing as he entered the tunnel.  The creatures disappeared around a bend.  The echoes of their movement betrayed their location.  

****

In the light of Becky's spell the dust covered floor looked like blood soaked snow.  Asher shivered at the illusion.

"Dammit!  How is that old man moving so fast!"

Becky had not lagged behind in their mad dash across the treacherous warehouse floor.  Her face was set in a grimace that he could not read.  The sound of Gabe's passage receded to a level that lacked directionality.  Only the clear footprints in the dust led them on.

****

His pulse pounded in his ears, threatening to drown the noise from ahead.  Gabe brushed against the tunnel wall as he ran.  It was smooth, coated in an even layer of concrete.  At another bend he caught sight of the kidnappers.  They paused at a cross in the tunnels while the one carrying their victim passed him off to one of his compatriots.  They set out again down the tunnel on their right.  

The tunnel dipped abruptly and the sounds of splashing echoed through the passageway.  Soon Gabe was running in steadily deepening water.  He was forced to slow to little more than a walk when it reached his knees.  Gradually the tunnel rose again and they were once more on dry ground.  The character of the tunnels had changed.  The walls were no longer smoothed-over with a layer of concrete but were rough-hewn bedrock.  As he ran, the tunnel widened considerably.  A standard railroad freight car would now fit comfortably within its confines.  After what seemed like hours of darkness he saw a flickering light far ahead, and he heard a panicky voice.  

"Who ... what are you!?"

Gabe slowed and pressed himself against the cold stone.  He inched his way forward toward the curve that hid the source of the flickering yellow light.  Mary pressed close behind him.  He peered around the edge of the stone.  The abducted homeless man was on his knees facing them.  A tall black haired woman stood coldly regarding the quivering mendicant.  She raised her arm above his head, and angry incandescent red mists reached out toward the kneeling man.  They swirled around his head, outlining his skull in bright relief.  His mouth worked to scream but no sound emerged.  He struggled as if bound, yet no ropes were wrapped about him.  Murmurs that Gabe could not discern wove in and out of the glowing smoke.  The cloud of light seemed to swiftly recede into the distance, or perhaps he was the one moving.  His head spun.  He lost his footing and spilled to the stone floor.

The tunnel was dark.  Mary was no longer beside him.  He was on his hands and knees in pitch blackness.  Footsteps approached him from ahead.  A pale yellow light flared into existence above him.  Gabe saw two black leather boots only an arm’s length from his face.  Slowly he looked up into the pale visage of the woman from his vision.

"Oh ...."

© 2003, Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Sep 23, 2003)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> Their quarry changed direction abruptly, darting into a warehouse, windows and doors uncovered, gaping portals into the abyss.  He slowed for a split second before plunging into the smothering darkness within.  Inside, his eyes roamed without seeing but somehow he _knew_ where the walls were.  He _knew_ where the ghouls were.  He leapt over a pile of broken boards in his path as if running in broad daylight.  On into the bowels of the building the ghouls continued, down two flights of stairs into blackness so absolute as to have substance.




Careful Lamp, someone might think you can write.   

An excellent update, very well written and a joy to read.

Now post more man!  I aint gettin' any younger!


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## Lamprolign (Sep 23, 2003)

Thanks Fenzer!  I'm actually working on the next post as we speak.  I'm shooting for the end of the week.  Hopefully I can pull it off.


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## Broccli_Head (Sep 23, 2003)

Amazing imagery, Lamp. !


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## Pyske (Sep 23, 2003)

Very cool.  Don't forget to update the subject line!


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## fenzer (Sep 23, 2003)

Lamp, you're a rocker!

Hey, just a quick questions, my brian is not as quick as it used to be.  But, what exactly happened to Gabe there at the end of the last post.  Did he slip and fall alerting the mean dark haired lady or did she just know he was there?  And what the heck happened to Mary?  Did the mean dark haired lady pull Gabe into another reality/demension?  

If the answers are forthcoming, I'll wait.  Otherwise, help this old man understand.


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## Lamprolign (Sep 23, 2003)

Simple answer there Fenzer:  When Gabe is having a vision, he perceives Mary actually standing beside him.  Normally she's only in his head after that little mishap with Abrams way, way back in the beginning.  Gabe fell when he snapped out of the vision.  This time around it may have been a little confusing because Gabe was moving both in the vision and in the "real world."  Hopefully that clarifies things a little.


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## fenzer (Sep 23, 2003)

I think I got it.  Your narrative was from the perspective of his vision not his reality, right?


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## Lamprolign (Sep 23, 2003)

You got it.  I was switching between Gabe's vision and then back out to the real world with the snippets from Asher's point of view.  That kind of switching back and forth in perspective can be confusing enough when everyone is on the same field so to speak, but it can become bewildering quickly in a case like this one.


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## Lamprolign (Sep 30, 2003)

028

_i'm watching the world go round
i'm watching the world's end
and i could get lonely
if this is a lie she said
this is the end
fall on tears all my friends
this is the end
fall on tears all my friends_ 
 - Love Spit Love, _Fall on Tears_

"Dammit!"  Poe kicked an empty beer bottle, sending it in a high arc.  It shattered somewhere in the darkness.  

"Easy, Poe.  This is not a task for brute force."  The Sister moved calmly through the empty street.  "Your theatrics may frighten away anyone with useful information."

"I should have gone with Mary."  Poe gazed around her desolate surroundings, her eyes finally falling on the Sister's face.  It had drained of all color.

"Sister!?"

"Perhaps you should have gone with Mary."

****

"Pellere," the tall woman incanted, sweeping her arm towards Gabe as if dismissing him.

All the breath was forced from Gabe's lungs as he was thrown against the far wall.  Bright lights exploded in his eyes when his head rebounded off the stone.  He did not fall to the floor.  It felt like a bus had backed into him, pinning him to the wall.  He couldn't inhale, he was being crushed.

"Caer'aroon naes naeor!" 

Blue light exploded around the dark woman.  She spun away, disappearing into shadows.  Gabe slumped to the floor, dragging air into his lungs, as Becky and Asher charged into the chamber.  Movement caught Gabe's eye, the familiar stop-motion gait of ghouls.  

"Ròiseal viitahea!"   Becky's voice rang out again as her arm described an arc.  A compression wave outlined in swirling incandescent mist surged outward.  Several ghouls were laid flat by the wave and did not stir. The woman ducked below the brunt of the force and was quickly on her feet again, facing Becky.

"Fulmen bellare!"

A blinding flash of light accompanied by the peal of thunder filled the chamber.  Arcs of lightning leapt from the woman's extended fingertips.  Asher fell backward, avoiding the attack.  Becky murmured something, too low for Asher to hear, and a crystalline sphere appeared around her.  The lighting hissed and crackled harmlessly around her defense.  In the light Asher saw a door leading off of the main chamber.  _She's there_, he knew with unwavering certainty.  Without further thought he skirted around the edge of the chamber and dashed down the passageway.  Bursts of light from spellfire illuminated his path.  

Gabe faced a duo of oncoming ghouls, each one muttering.  Glowing fog encircled their hands.  He leaped to one side as the burning mists shot out, streaming through the space he once occupied.

"Éibheall!"

A bright red sphere sped from his hands, neatly intersecting with a ghoul's head.  It fell, its neck a smoldering stump.  He did not wait for the second ghoul to act.  Gabe launched himself atop it, raining a flurry of punches to its head.  He rolled off the limp figure, narrowly avoiding a bolt from yet another ghoul.

Gabe came to a kneeling position, hands before him, palms forward with fingers spread wide.  It was a strange fusion of personalities when they fought, his voice giving sound to Mary's words, their combined powers flowing from his hands.

"Fosgail an dràstar!"

The approaching ghoul collapsed, as if smashed with a giant club.  Adrenaline pulsed through Gabe's veins.  The thrill of the fight gripped him.  He felt a frightening exhilaration as he had never before.  Grinning madly he dodged a fire blast from yet another ghoul.

****
Asher raced down the narrow hallway.  Something moved just ahead of him, blocking his path.  He lowered his shoulder and tackled the interloper.  Both fell hard upon the ground.  There was a sickening wet crunch as the ghoul's skull cracked on the rock floor.  Asher paused for a moment, regaining his feet.  He froze where he stood.  A flash of light from the battle raging behind him revealed the ghoul's face.  It was twisted and deformed, but he recognized the face of a homeless man whom he had spoken to only days before.

He turned and rushed on.  Ahead there was a single steel door.  He grabbed the iron lever handle.  It was locked.  He pulled hard, attempting to force it.  It would not give.

"Dammit!"

He was just about to remove his hand when the lock gave way, the lever effortlessly coming off in his grasp.  _Must have been rusted_.  The door swung easily open.  He stepped into a small, plain room.  A bed stood in the middle of the far wall.  To its left was a dresser with a mirror atop it.  The room was lit by an old style kerosene lamp.  Huddled amidst a pile of fuzzy tan blankets was a little girl.  Her face was a child version of Becky's but her eyes and complexion were darker.  

"Don't be afraid," he said, stepping into the room.  "I'm here with your mother.  We're going to take you someplace safe."

Sarah looked up at the disheveled blond-haired man with his hand stretched out toward her.  Her head was spinning.  So much had happened.  She couldn't grasp what was going on around her.  Everything was so confusing.  Hadn't her momma just told her that she was safe here?  Then this strange man comes in telling her he's here with momma and that they are going to take her somewhere else.  It was all too much.  She dove back under the blankets and squeezed her eyes shut.  

"Don't be scared.  I'm taking you to your mom."  Asher closed the distance to the bed and scooped up blankets, child and all.  

****

Gabe felt intense heat on the top of his head as he narrowly ducked beneath an energy bolt.  He sprang to his feet, closing the distance to the ghoul and landing a fist squarely in the creature's eye.  Around him, fire and thunder filled the room.  Becky and her opponent were equally matched in power.  Their spells threatened to bring the cavern down on top of them but neither relented.

Dark red fire blossomed around the blasted locomotive and a reverberating roar filled the chamber.  Gabe saw a glob of fire churning towards him.  He grabbed the ghoul and shoved him forward, using him as a shield.  An instant later he was enveloped in heat.  The ghoul bore the brunt of the blast but the force still knocked Gabe to the ground.

The flames passed and he looked toward the locomotive.  Standing amidst the flames was a horrific sight, a huge creature with horned head and leathern wings.  

"_Remember the demon we fought here in your mind?_" Mary asked in a quiet voice.

"Yup."

"_This looks like his big brother._"

"We're in trouble, aren't we?"

Becky turned for a split second toward the new arrival.  It was the opening her opponent needed.  Lightning again flashed across the chamber.  It crackled against Becky's shield but her concentration had wavered, and arcs pried through.  Becky screamed, falling to the ground feet away from Gabe.  

"_Big trouble._"

****
Asher stopped abruptly at the entrance to the passageway.  He saw Becky fall to the woman's lightning.  Then he saw the demon.  They were both looking at him.  Sarah squirmed in his arms.  A thin tendril of red light shot from the dark woman's hand.  It flashed through the air like a bullwhip, wrapping around his leg.  His mind registered searing pain and his leg was pulled from beneath him.  He crashed to the floor.  Sarah and the bundle of blankets tumbled from his grasp.

Sarah struggled free of the blankets and looked up.  Terror gripped her chest, threatening to force all the air from her lungs.  Here was the shadow that had haunted her dreams.  Here was the thing that had driven her nightmares for so long.  The demon took a step toward her, a cruel parody of a smile twisting its grotesque features.

The burning tether around Asher's leg returned to its mistress, recoiling for another strike.  He rolled to his feet, planting himself between the demon and the little girl.  The creature's smile broadened.  With the effortless motion of swatting a fly, it sent Asher hurtling away.  

"There you are," the creature's voice rumbled, its horrendous smile deepening.  "Come to me, child."

"No!"  Images flashed through Sarah's mind, the dark thing always behind her, the raggedy man hurting Laura.  "NO!"

Sparks swirled around her, connecting to form gossamer strands of brilliant blue power.  They thickened, writhing like a net full of eels.  Outward they flew, wrapping around the demon's head, constricting its body, covering the leathern wings.  

Its expression changed from gloating victory to shock, then pain.  A roar that shook the stone itself deafened those still conscious.  Karin backed away from the spectacle.  The demon strained against the bonds, thrashing as a wild animal.

Asher gingerly lifted his head.  Flashing lights still danced in his eyes as he tried to find Sarah.  She stood amidst the blankets where he had dropped her, surrounded by furiously swirling blue fire.  The tendrils now resembled thick vines, twisting around the demon's body.  It roared again.  The vines grew thicker, wrapped tighter.  Asher looked between the demon and the child.  He was unsure which one scared him more.  Sarah's face was a grim image of fury, out of place on one so young.  Her breath came in great ragged gasps.  

The demon's wings were wrenched from its back with a wet snapping sound.  It could no longer roar, the fire-vines had encased its head and were rotating it slowly around.  Another wet snap and the head came off amidst a shower of black ichor.  The demon's body burst into flame.  In seconds nothing remained save for blackened ash.  

The chamber was silent but for the slow patter of falling stone.  The tendrils, now without prey, diminished to a web of incandescent strands orbiting the child.  Her face slowly relaxed.  She stood quietly watching the swirling orb of power that surrounded her.  Her breathing slowed and she became aware of her surroundings again.  A lost look settled upon her face as her eyes wondered across the ruined chamber, then changed to a wide smile when she saw her mother crawl from the rubble and walk toward her.

"Momma!"

Becky smiled, limping toward her daughter.  They would be reunited at last...

Asher shook his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears.  He looked up, saw Becky limping toward her daughter, saw Gabe throwing the still body of a ghoul from atop him.  Farther away, something else moved in the shadows. 

"BECKY!"  Asher leapt toward her.

A bolt of red hued energy flashed from across the chamber, transfixing Becky.  She stood there for a moment, eyes wide with shock and pain, then crumpled amidst the rubble.  Asher landed beside her an instant too late.

"MOMMA!!!"

Wave after wave of incandescent energy blasted outward from the child.  All who remained standing in the chamber where knocked flat when the searing waves washed over them.  A boulder ripped free of the wall and fell between where Asher lay over Becky's still form and the child.  Shielded by the stone he checked for a pulse.  It was there, barely.  She whispered something.  Asher leaned closer to hear.

"Save her... my little girl...."  She fell silent.

Determination crystallized in that instant.  He rose from behind the protecting stone, trying to shield his face from the licking flames as he pressed toward Sarah.  It burned, Asher had never felt pain this intense.  He had no breath to scream.  Then something else burned, something inside.  The heat receded.  He could see a space opening around him, pushing the blue fire crackling and spitting away from him.  His body smoldered, the smell of his own burnt skin and hair nearly overcame him but he kept moving.

In the center of the maelstrom he saw her.  The child's face was a mask of anger and grief.  Her cries pierced Asher's gut with pain sharper than the fire.  He was almost there.

Gabe lay flat against the floor, grimacing against the searing heat above him.  He felt the world tremble, the stone beneath him shifted like sand.  Images assaulted his consciousness, a huge dark skinned man with gentle brown eyes, a young boy catching a frisbee, a comfortable house on a tree lined street, then a dream, a nightmare, dark shapes chasing him, the shattered remains of a house, a glimpse of gurneys bearing sheet-draped bodies, a dark cave and the dearest person in the world falling away....  Gabe screamed.  The pain washing through his mind erased the fire around him.

Asher reached out through the lashing waves.  He could see her face clearly now.  Sarah's eyes grew wide.  The ferocity of the storm increased.  He could almost touch her.  A blinding light and a concussive wave flashed through the chamber, then all was bathed in darkness.  The silence was broken only by the slow rain of shattered stone.  Asher felt his way back toward the child.  His hand touched something other than stone, the child's arm.  She was completely still.  He strained to hear the sound of breathing, sought a pulse on her neck.  Nothing.  _I didn't make it_.  He punched the ground until blood ran freely from his knuckles.  _I didn't make it_.  

"Lòchran," Gabe's voice roughly intoned and ochre light flooded the room.  He stood up and surveyed the wreckage.  

"_Sarah!_"

She looked as though peacefully sleeping.  One look at Asher's contorted face and vain search for a pulse confirmed the worst.  Gabe felt detached, as if none of this was real.  It was odd to hear, or rather feel Mary sobbing inside his head.  Only one thought made it through the quicksand that consumed his mind... _Why?_ 

***************  ***************  ***************

Epilogue:

Orderly Travis Uncheon glanced at the large clock hanging above the entrance to the ward.  4:08 AM proclaimed the bright red numbers.  A tomblike silence lay across the Miller Nursing Home at this hour of the night.  This was when Travis always took news to Her, when there were no prying eyes or ears.  He had learned a lesson in caution when a young girl on the janitorial staff had happened to walk past her room in the small hours.  At least the Russian freak had taken care of that one before failing miserably in his other appointed tasks.

The orderly's size was such that he nearly had to turn his shoulders sideways to enter Her room.  The top of his head brushed the doorframe.  As always She reclined unmoving upon the bed, only the slow rise and fall of breathing indicating life at all.  Her eyes were open though, and they locked onto his own the moment he came within view.

"He has failed," his voice rumbled with the low sound of a distant avalanche, "and the child is lost."

Eyes burning with fury glared out from the woman's mannequin face. 

© Austin Hale, 2003


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## Broccli_Head (Sep 30, 2003)

Wow!


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## fenzer (Sep 30, 2003)

Holy cow Lamp, that was fantastic!  Thank you for a great update.


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## Jodo Kast (Oct 3, 2003)

fenzer said:
			
		

> Holy cow Lamp, that was fantastic!  Thank you for a great update.




Here's a little teaser for the faithful followers of Lamprolign's First Sight story hour.  Lamp and I are currently working on a First Sight webcomic with a local artist.  It will be _based_ on First Sight, meaning that there will be some changes in the storyline to better fit the comic medium, but will remain true to the spirit of the Story Hour.  The first few pages are looking good, and we should have something to post by the end of this month.  More news on this soon, hopefully!


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## fenzer (Oct 3, 2003)

I look forward to seeing these great characters brought to life and in wonderful technicolor to boot.  You can count me in.


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## Lamprolign (Oct 3, 2003)

Just a quick progress report... Things are coming together to get into the next episode, it'll be another week though.  I'm predicting around the 12th or 13th for the next post.  Sorry for all the delays!


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## Broccli_Head (Oct 3, 2003)

Definitely worth the wait.


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## Tellerve (Oct 6, 2003)

Great stuff, I'd almost forgotten about this story hour and saw it and got right back into it with the great imagery.  Again, great job all around on this one.

Tellerve

p.s. Lamp, I know you said this would/is the basis for a modern d20 world your running.  I was wondering if your using any sort of different magic system for your world.  Are these combats played out or more just story?  Not that it matters for the read, but I'm inspired to try something similar and wanted to see your take on the modern d20 spellcasters.


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## Lamprolign (Oct 6, 2003)

Thanks for the compliment! To be honest, First Sight is 99% just story.  What started out as a simple background tale kinda took on a life of its own.  We never actually got around to getting the campaign going.  Now we're back to scheming on a more typical campaign in a post-medieval, pre-renaissance sort-of-gothic setting.  Jodo Kast is our usual DM and has the best grip on the new rules, (I'm still wondering where THAC0's went,) so he probably has some worthwhile comments on the D20 modern spellcasters.  I just dream stuff up, and then leave it to our DM to figure out how it will work in game play.


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## Tellerve (Oct 6, 2003)

Ah, I see...yeah sadly I was swept away with the story.  My imagination is very similar to yours it would seem, I just don't have the gift for writing.  Of if I do I have hidden it away and can't find it.  But this story in particular gets me jonesin' for some modern d20 action.  Then again I want to DM and play...if only I had a clone.  Sheesh, if I could make a clone I wouldn't be cloning myself 

Tellerve


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## Lamprolign (Oct 16, 2003)

*Episode 4*

029

_Sometimes when this place gets kind of empty
Sound of the breath fades with the light 
I think about the loveless fascination
Under the Milky Way tonight
Lower the curtain down in Memphis 
Lower the curtain down all right 
I got no time for private consultation 
Under the Milky Way tonight  
Wish I knew what you were looking for 
Might have known what you would find_ 
 - The Church, _Under the Milky Way_


"_I think I would be sick, if I was myself._"

"Welcome to my world, kid," Gabe whispered.  _First day back and I'm up to my neck in nasty_.

He surveyed the body, a young man clad in blue jeans and a T-shirt, half-buried in garbage from an over-flowing dumpster.  Gabe suppressed a shudder when he looked into the victim's dead eyes.  It was always the same.  The dry, glazed orbs disturbed him on an instinctual level.

Gabe shook his head.  The job didn't have room for that kind of emotionalism.  He looked away from the body and scanned the notebook in his hand.  On the page was a sketch he had done upon first arriving, noting the relative positions of everything close to the scene.  There was little there except for the dumpster behind which the body lay.  Gabe scanned the body again.  The face showed no outward evidence of trauma.  If the eyes had been closed one could have mistaken death for a less permanent slumber.  

Even though there would be a thorough photographic record, Gabe made careful note of every detail.  The small portion of the T-shirt not stained by blood looked to be a light gray color.  There might have been a logo of some kind on the chest, but that, along with a large portion of the flesh beneath, was gone.  

_Okay kid.  Notice that there isn't much blood on the ground around the body?  Why do you think that is?_

"_Uh...vampire?_"

Gabe rolled his eyes heavenward.  _Not everything is caused by dark forces, Mary.  There are plenty of plain, old, mortal sickos out there.  This poor bastard was killed somewhere else and then dumped here._

"_Ooh, nice deduction there, Sherlock._"

He grunted at Mary's less than complimentary tone and decided to ignore it.  _That means something was used to transport the body._ 

The asphalt paving negated getting a clear tire print.  Large amounts of trash spilling from the dumpster also served to confuse the scene.  

"Damn!  Third one this week!"  Chris Ebbing said enthusiastically from directly behind Gabe.

"Ack!  Would you stop doing that?!"  Gabe's heart slowly crawled back down from his throat.

"Wouldn't be a problem if you weren't so high strung.  Maybe you should lay off the coffee?"  Chris whipped his camera up and snapped a picture, blinding Gabe in the process.  

"God dammit, Chris!"  He blinked furiously trying to clear the dancing lights left in the flash's wake.

"I wonder if this one's going to give the coroner a coronary like the other two?"

"Very funny, Chris.  Just what the hell are you talking about?"

"Well...see that wound on the chest?"

"Yeah, looks like the poor bastard was shot in the back, pretty typical hollow point exit wound."

Sure does, doesn't it," Chris grinned, "except that if it's like the others, there's no entrance wound"

"_Not everything is caused by dark forces, huh?_"


****


Becky sat in one of the overstuffed chairs gathered around the hearth in the Sister's study.  She slowly rocked back and forth, clutching a wadded up blanket to her chest, cooing softly.  Her eyes were locked on the fire burning in the hearth.

"Would you like some tea, dear?"  The Sister crossed the room holding a mug effusing rose-peppermint steam.  "Come now, this is good for you."

As it had been since Sarah's death, Becky made no response.  She just continued to rock slowly, making small noises and cradling the blanket.  

"Leac-oighir"

Steam from the mug diminished instantly.  The Sister took Becky's hand, carefully placing the now lukewarm mug in it.  She took the cup, an automaton mimicking the movement of life.  The Sister studied her as she drank the healing potion. Becky gave no indication that she knew what transpired around her.  She was inside a fragile shell of her own construction.  No physical injury caused Becky's condition.  It was something far worse than mere broken bones.

Flames in the hearth jumped about, whipped by a nonexistent wind.  The Sister whirled toward the door.  She watched for many seconds before it opened.  

The woman who entered carried herself with the quiet power of a resting eagle.  Long black hair in a single plait hung down her back, ending below her narrow waist.  A heavy woolen cloak of intricately interwoven dark grays covered her shoulders, its hood thrown back and the front open revealing a long dress.  A number of pouches and undefined artifacts hung from her belt of thickly braided leather, including a long curved knife.  Her hand rested lightly on a straight wooden staff, as tall as she, its middle wrapped in leather strips.    

"Welcome, Sister!"  The Sister crossed the room swiftly, the first smile in many days brightening her face.

"It is good to be back."

"Much has transpired since last we spoke."

"I feared so."

The Sister raised a hand toward Becky.  "Rebecca's daughter was called, with such power as I have not seen for a hundred years.  She was lost..."

The Traveler looked thoughtfully at the woman numbly holding a now empty mug.  "I have seen many portents.  Some are now explained, some remain shadowed.  I am certain of this, somewhere in this city the old power is growing."

****

Temperatures hovered near the freezing point, creating a treacherous mixture of water and ice.  On the trafficked streets cars slid onto the curb and into one another with a rhythmic regularity.  The teenage boy, wearing a Cubs jacket and a pair of denim cargo pants several sizes too large for his lanky frame, paid no attention to the distant tinny crunching.  

Joshua Foster walked purposefully along one of the many identical streets in southern Chicago lined by tenement buildings.  He wondered if these places had ever looked new.  Trash littered the street, bits of debris swirling about, carried by a stiff wind blowing off the lake.  

He passed a tiny basketball court surrounded by rusty chain-link fence.  A pickup game was well under way, boys near his age surged up and down the court, laughing and calling out.  Joshua spared them the smallest glance, contempt glistening on his face.

The sounds of the game receded as he pressed on down nearly deserted streets.  Few here would venture out alone once the sun had set.  

A young man, his face not but sallow skin sagging across bones, slipped behind the boy.  The man's limbs twitched with ague, his jaundiced eyes flitted from side to side.  A blade glinted in the scant light of the street lamps.  Joshua smiled as he heard the man draw near.  

" Regnare" 

The man froze, his eyes bulged from their sockets.  Hands still in his coat pockets, Joshua casually turned around to face him.  

"Need a fix?"  His smile deepened.  "I'll fix you right up."

"Infindo" 

The man raised the knife, holding it at arm's length in front of his stomach.  Joshua smiled more deeply and leaned forward.  The man plunged the knife into his own gut.  His mouth opened to scream but no sound issued forth.  He ripped the blade to his side, opening a long, gaping wound.  Bloody viscera spilled to the pavement.  

"Again, I think."

The man pulled the blade to the opposite side, completely opening his abdominal cavity.  He stood for three seconds before falling to his knees, then spilled forward into the thickening pool of gore.

"There, all fixed up."  Joshua turned and continued on his way, grinning broadly.  _What a great start to the evening._


© 2003, Austin Hale


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## fenzer (Oct 17, 2003)

Now that is scary, teenagers walking around with _real_ power.

Thanks Lamp.


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## fenzer (Oct 28, 2003)

Lamp, you don't what to know were I found this.  I didn't know the forum had that many pages.  

Anyway, I'm moving you to the front hoping there is a post somewhere in the near future.


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## Lamprolign (Oct 28, 2003)

Sorry for the lack of updates.  Work has been seriously kicking my posterior again and we've been working on the graphic version of First Sight and we're hoping to start on Halloween.  Our artist is truly kick-ass and I have a feeling that everyone who has enjoyed the story hour will love the comic.  The story is a bit divergent, but very true to the feel and spirit of the written version.  I hope to have a new update to the forum story up before too long and I'll post a link here once the comic goes online.  Thanks for your patience!


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## hanasays (Nov 2, 2003)

No luck starting Halloween... a number of reasons.  In any case, Austin, you'd better update this thread or something, or there's not gonna be anyone to read these comic pages when I finish them


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## zenld (Nov 2, 2003)

I am slow to catch on, but now that I have found this story, I want more. Now. No excuses will be tolerated.



This is a great story. I cannot wait for the next installment. I only read a couple of these story hours, but if I can keep finding more of this quality, I will be stuck just reading forever. I only hope I can tell half as good of a story for my players. Thanks for the inspiration. 

zen


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## hanasays (Nov 9, 2003)

*First Sight Webcomic!*

This is the artist speaking.  I don't know how many of you know that FS has an artist... or that it has a comic now.  Yes, a comic.  That's what this long silent period has been... Mo and Lamp and I've been gearing up for an online graphic novel version of the "First Sight" story.
In any case, the cover and page one are up, and you can look at them on the new First Sight website.  It's a little simple at the moment, pretty barebones, but I hope you like it, and I hope you like what exists of the comic right now.  We've all worked very hard on it.

Anyway, now that I've made my little announcement, I think I'm going to ramble and embarrass Lamprolign and Mo a little bit.
I had a crash course in push-starting a stickshift yesterday... nearly literally.  Lamp's car broke down while we were getting some groceries (I have no car and getting to the store and back can be quite an adventure since some jerks tried to steal my bike by DISASSEMBLING IT).  Anyway, his starter's pretty much toasted, and Mo was busy, so we had to push-start it.  Well, I've started stick shifts before, but it's been quite a while, and I'm more familiar with automatics.  Most notably, I'm more familiar with how automatics have a lot of space between the brake and gas pedals.  This is an important point, keep it in mind.
So Lamp gives the car a good shove and gets it rolling, I pop the clutch and manage to start the thing, and go to step on the brake.  Or what I thought was the brake, which happened to be the gas pedal, being where the break is usually at in an automatic.  I managed to find the ACTUAL break before launching poor Lamprolign's car over the ditch, although I did nearly launch _myself_ through the windshield.

I don't think Lamprolign will be letting me touch anything in his car for a while.

Next on my agenda: embarrass Mo.
I crashed at Mo's house the other night, since everyone was too tired to drive me home and I have no car.  In any case, I tend to suffer from insomnia, and spent most of the time drooling on Mo's kitchen table while staring at the wall.  Mo crashed on the couch, for whatever reason... I think it was to keep an eye on his dog... I'm telling you, Mo says some crazy stuff in his sleep.  More importantly, _who is Lulu_?


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## fenzer (Nov 9, 2003)

Hanasays, thanks for the link.  I have been waiting to take a look at what you guys have put together.  The artwork has a little anime quality to it, it's pretty good.

Hey Lamp, is that you there with the goatee and glasses?


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## Lamprolign (Nov 9, 2003)

Yep, that would be me in my natural habitat, a laboratory.  Anyway after narrowly surviving the last trip to the grocery store, I now find myself at the mercy of a nasty sore throat and fever.  I’m glad you like the graphic version Fenzer.  Hanasays has put a lot of work into it.  I finally have the draft of installment 30 finished and I’m editing it now.  If I can get Jodo to edit this one for me it’ll be up in a couple days.  If I’m running solo on this one again it’ll be longer.  Sorry for the delays.  Story hour updates will improve in both frequency and quality if I can just make it to the first of the year.  I’ll be able to drop back to a normal 40 hours at work then.

btw, Jodo Kast is Mo, and I too am wondering who this Lulu is


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## Jodo Kast (Nov 10, 2003)

As for these boards, Lamprolign will continue to post Story Hour updates, but I will be doing only minimal editing and story input.  I'm largely in charge of scripting the First Sight webcomic now.  I've taken the essence of the Story Hour posts and attempted to come up with a tighter, more compelling script that lends itself to visual storytelling (not that there was anything wrong with Lampy's story, it just works better for an episodic story hour format than an ongoing comic serial - don't worry, all of the major characters are still in the mix ... just wait until you get a load of Poe).  We have more pages pencilled, just waiting to be inked by the lovely and talented Hana.  Let me tell you, there is some creepy stuff coming your way very, very soon in the webcomic.  One of the pages even scares me, and I wrote the darn thing.  Please continue to follow Lampy's Story Hour here, as it will continue to inspire the webcomic, and check for updates of the webcomic (http://www.heavyartilleryrpg.com/firstsight/index.html) every Saturday.  Thanks.


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## hanasays (Nov 15, 2003)

*Update.*

Comic's updated.  I think this is the last time I'll announce an update; just assume that the comic will be updated around 12 a.m. Saturday, or at least sometime in the early morning.


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## fenzer (Nov 17, 2003)

Hey gang,

Checked out the wecomic.  I like the art work, a little grittier than I anticipated.  Thanks for the update.  I'll check back again next Saturday.

By the way, the link to "Mo" on the website is broken.  I could not get to that page.

Anyway guys, thanks for all the hard work.   It's worth the wait.


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## hanasays (Nov 17, 2003)

fenzer said:
			
		

> Hey gang,
> 
> Checked out the wecomic.  I like the art work, a little grittier than I anticipated.  Thanks for the update.  I'll check back again next Saturday.
> 
> ...




Ahh yeah I forgot... I haven't set up a blog for Mo yet.  I guess I'll get around to doing that, but he hasn't expressed any real desire for one.  I'll either eventually set one up for him or take the link down, whichever he chooses.
Glad you like the art work. :-D  The 'new' style Lamp and I worked out during the last 'jam session' isn't too large a leap from the current one (today's page), it still has some of the grittiness but it ought to go down a little smoother.  It's mainly a slight change in the way I ink the pages.  Every comic has its stylistic hiccups, I guess.


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## Lamprolign (Nov 20, 2003)

030

_I can't stay
In this place
I can't stand
When the room turns round
On my fate
You give no guarantees
There's no promise
I can keep_
- Love Spit Love, _Am I Wrong_

Gabe drained the last bit of coffee from his favorite mug, black and emblazoned with the X-Files logo. It was a Christmas present from one his best friends in the office, Jeanette was a petite brown-eyed, brown-haired Long Island native who worked in the forensics lab downstairs.  _It would be nice if she finds something on the clothing._ 

"_Such as?_"

"Didn't you ever watch Discovery channel?"  Gabe absently wiped away a drop of coffee from his chin.

"_That stuff is boring._" 

"Hmf," he picked up the file he had been studying earlier, "fibers, leaves, bugs, hell even pollen might be a clue.  If there was a struggle there might be someone else's blood on the clothing, or bits of skin under the finger nails."

"_Gross._"

Gabe focused on the file again.  Another body with wounds identical to the one recovered tonight.  The coroner would venture no guesses as to how the mortal wound was inflicted, and there was no other useful forensic evidence recovered from the body.

"Great," he sighed and rubbed his eyes.  "Well Miss Dark Forces, can you give me any leads?"

"_I don't know, this is supposed to be your gig_."

"Yeah," Gabe stood and paced the confines of the small office he shared with two other investigators.  The building was empty at 3:30 in the morning.  Before the incident with Abrams, he would sooner pull his own wisdom teeth than be up at this time of day.  In the past weeks, many things about his life had changed.  "Damn it!  Why the hell couldn't I just come back to an ordinary case?"

"_Maybe you should go home and get some sleep,_" Mary said.  "_You're not going to get anything done if you pass out._"

Gabe grunted in response, but grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

****

The normal crowd in the Metro Deli and Café roared at the football game playing on the overhead TV.  Normally, Asher would be watching intently.  He avidly played in a fantasy football league at work and followed the stats religiously.  Tonight however, he did not even know what teams were playing.  It was 8:30 and he had already downed nine beers - or was it ten?  He lost count a while ago.  This place was his normal suppertime stop, but since Sarah's death it was Killian's and not a Reuben on the menu.  In constant succession, the images of that night played in his mind.  The beer blunted the edge, but did not erase his torment.

He tossed back the last of his beer.  _I'm not a freak.  I'm normal._  His voice floated in his head.  _What about the flames?_  He remembered the circle of space that opened around him in the flood of blue fire.  _Maybe if you had admitted what you are, you could have saved her._

"No!"  Asher slammed the bottle down on the bar.  It shattered in his hand.

"That's enough for you.  Settle your tab and go home," rumbled a voice from behind the bar.  The usual bartender was off tonight and the part-timer did not abide Asher's drunken antics even under the best of circumstances.  The mountainous black man said nothing further as he handed Asher his card and bill.

Asher grumbled as he sloppily signed the sales slip.  He clumsily replaced the card in his wallet.  _Yeah, go home... right._  He staggered out of the bar and out of Union Station.  Once on the street, he took a moment to steady himself and headed for the loop.  He frequented several shadier dives that served stronger stuff than beer down towards the lake.  He walked with head bowed, studying the concrete passing beneath him.  The smell of fresh-turned earth registered for a moment before he hit an unyielding obstacle.

"I see you've started another evening."  Poe stood squarely in his path.  A gust of wind opened her battered leather coat.  

Even through his self-involved haze he could not help but pause.  She was clad in a dark red corset fastened with multiple buckles.  The tail of her dragon tattoo was visible ending between her collarbones.  A shiny leather skirt revealed far more leg than it covered.  Her booted feet were planted firmly on the ground.

"Yeah, what's it to you?"  Asher recovered his ire.

Poe sneered slightly as she spoke, "Aww, poor Asher, can't handle being a freak huh?"

He glared at her silently while he sidestepped.  Poe blocked his way again, near the opening of a tiny alley between two skyscrapers. 

"Going to spend another night drowning your tortured soul in booze?"  

"Yeah, why not?"

"I'd let you drink yourself straight to hell, but the Sister is worried about you."

"Yeah well ain't that just sweet.  I don't need a wet nurse."

"No, you need something entirely different."  Poe caught Asher with a left hook that sent him skittering like a skipped stone down the alley.

Pretty little lights obscured his vision. They throbbed in synchrony with his jaw and the back of his head where it hit the pavement.  When his vision cleared Poe was standing over him, silhouetted by the glare flowing in from the street.

"You're pathetic," Poe locked eyes with him.  "The Sister says to come home."

Asher sat rubbing his head, watching Poe walk away from him to disappear in the mass coursing down the sidewalk.

****

Gabe yawned mightily.  He had slept till noon, and spent the afternoon poring through old files, searching for any with a similar MO.  Dinnertime had come and gone before he gave up on the police records and ventured to the Haven.  He now wove his way between the tables and benches of the great hall.  Here and there a few people sat, slowly eating plates of food.  Gabe stopped for a moment.  For the first time, he wondered where the homeless that he saw eating went at night.

"_There are bunk rooms and baths on the floor below us for those with nowhere to go.  This place is not 'haven' in name alone._"

"Hmm," Gabe still marveled at this place.  Demons and vampires aside, it was still extraordinary.

"Nice of you to bring Mary for a visit," Poe's voice made him jump.

"Ahg!"

"_Hi Poe!_"

"Lovely, now my evening is complete."  Gabe sighed deeply and looked to the rafters high above. 

"Too bad you had to come, too."

He gave Poe a faux smile, "just climb out of your coffin?  I smell dirt again."

"It is patchouli oil, Gabriel Ansgar, extracted from a very useful plant with many interesting properties."

Gabe spun on his heel, expecting to see the Sister, but instead saw a tall woman with black hair neatly plaited and draped across her shoulder.  She was at once familiar and strange.  Her face resembled the Sister's but her complexion was darker, her expression more austere.  She regarded Gabe through keen hazel eyes.

"Uh... hello?" 

"_Good Evening, Sister._"

"Sister?  Wait a minute..."

"You don't think too fast there, do you Sherlock?"  Poe smiled pitilessly at Gabe's discomfiture.  

"_There are two Sisters, Gabe._"

"Two?"

"_Yes, there used to be three._"

"Indeed Mary, and there may be again," this Sister grinned wryly at Gabe.  "Many of the older residents here simply call me Traveler, as I do journey a great deal.  If it helps avoid confusion, you may address me thusly." 

"Uh, okay," Gabe tried to gather his wits about him.  Once again this place threw him a curve ball that had flown straight through the strike zone.  "I need to talk to the Sister."  

****

Joshua came to a stop in front of four story brick building that sat a little apart from the other crowded structures.  Chain link fence, rusted almost to the point of disintegration, surrounded a narrow strip of what would no doubt be weed-choked grounds in summer.  Half of a brick-framed sign, faced the street, miraculously resisting gravity.  '...High School,' the remaining piece read.  What high school it had been was lost in the crumbled remains strewn on the ground.  Joshua did not know, nor could care less, what the name had been.

A stooped figure, swathed in ragged clothes, moved into his vision with the jerky, blurred movement that still unnerved him.  He did not like the ghouls, no matter how much Karin had to say about their usefulness.  The ghoul scurried ahead of him, opening a rusted door that looked as if it would fall from its hinges at any moment.  He entered a large hallway, the shattered remains of a glass-enclosed display case to his left, concrete wall to his right.  Every square inch of the interior was covered with layers of graffiti.   Candles floated down each side of the hall, shedding dim light.  Joshua smiled when he remembered first arriving here with Karin, remembered the satisfaction felt in using his recently discovered powers to clear the bums from the structure.  He had enjoyed his first taste of murder.

He continued on, past gaping doors blasted off their frames, lockers pulled from their anchors and lying helter-skelter along the walls.  Every so often, he would catch a glimpse of the ghouls skulking in the darkness.  He tried to ignore them completely.  They were beneath him.  Still, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end each time he noticed them.  At the end of the hall, two sets of double doors opened into what was once a gymnasium, in the center of which a roaring fire blazed in a crude, circular stone hearth.  No smoke obscured the flickering yellow-orange light that produced dancing shadows on the walls.

A small multitude of stone columns, each one taller than a man and made from rubble fused together by intense heat, surrounded the main fire.  Smaller fires burned atop each of these columns, adding to the confusion of shadows.  A tall, raven-haired woman looked up from a large tome when he entered.  She favored him with a smile that held all the warmth of an arctic winter.  He walked toward her, feeling neither unease nor the usual contempt in which he held most.  She had shown him what he could do, what powers lay dormant within him.  She was useful... and dangerous.  He treated her with the same respect one gave fire.

"I walked by the place today."  

"Did anyone notice you?"

"No," he grinned, "I was just one more pedestrian walking by."

"Good," she crossed her arms and regarded him for a moment before continuing.  "So, you don't think you'll have any problems getting in?"

"Are you kidding?"  He shook his head.  "Those bleeding hearts would take in the devil himself if he looked hungry."

"Well that's quite convenient for us isn't it?"  



© 2003, Austin Hale


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## Lamprolign (Nov 20, 2003)

My apologies for the slowdown in posts folks.  While still working 60-65 hours a week I seem to be getting into a routine that is allowing for a bit more productive writing.  I am going to try me damnedest to be a more regular with updates.  Hmmm... perhaps exlax for the brain???


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## Broccli_Head (Nov 20, 2003)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> I am going to try me damnedest to be a more regular with updates.  Hmmm... perhaps exlax for the brain???




Apology accepted and better late than never. I'd rather have more time inbetween posts so that they come out really good, like the one above. 

Maybe that ginkoba stuff can help stimulate your brain?


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## Lamprolign (Nov 21, 2003)

hmmm, I might try that stuff, a good cup of chai will go a long way also.


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## hanasays (Nov 21, 2003)

Sorta got my own apology to make now...

Lamprolign sent me #030 for the website, which I uploaded.  But I forgot to change the current story link, or add it to the archives page.  So it was THERE, just... nobody could find it... yeah... my brain no worky right lately, I guess it's Finals n' all...

So that has been fixed, my apologies to people who checked the website... actually, nobody really checks the website, so not a lot of harm was done (whew). I will continue updating it anyway.


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## fenzer (Nov 21, 2003)

Lamp, thanks again.  I appreciate the update.

hanasays, thanks for keeping the web site current.  There is at least one person visiting.


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## hanasays (Nov 23, 2003)

Ok, the comic's updated.  It only took me all day.  I fell asleep, what can I say... not that I'd been watching Jin Roh all night the night before, of course not...

Anyway, this is the "new" style that Lamp requested.  It took a lot of false attempts, half-drawn pages, and tweaking to reach something he was satisfied with, so I hope everyone likes it.  Hopefully there will not be any more huge stylistic changes in the comic.


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## Lamprolign (Jun 17, 2004)

Well folks it has been far too long since I posted anything, and I've gotten a few e-mails from folks wondering if I'm still alive.  Contrary to rumors, I'm not dead yet.  I've been pulled away from working on the story by that awful intrusion of work and stress.  Things are starting to come around though; there will be some new stuff on the way soon.  This is in no small part to Hana churning out some fresh art for me to look at while I'm writing.  Here is a sample…





Anyway I'm working right now on getting some new installments up…


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## hanasays (Jun 17, 2004)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> This is in no small part to Hana churning out some fresh art for me to look at while I'm writing.




Always happy to be of service.

Also, for those of you who cannot get the image to load (for whatever reason), you may also see it here: http://www.deviantart.com/view/8166638/


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## fenzer (Jun 25, 2004)

Good to hear from you Lamp.  I look forward to your next update.

Hanasays, I really do enjoy your work.  Thanks for sharing.


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## Lamprolign (Jul 19, 2004)

031


"See ya'round Gavin!"  Erica called out as he stepped out into the chill northwest wind.  _Damn,_ he shivered when the cold sliced through his heavy down-filled coat.  _I gotta start going home earlier, it's too late to catch the L._  He pulled his coat collar tighter around his neck.  _This is gonna be a long ass walk._  By the time he was a block down South Canal Street his pace quickened to a jog.  The job with Caliper, a laboratory instrumentation company, had brought him to the Windy City just over a year ago.  Since then he enjoyed a comfortable salary and downtown loft, not too bad for someone fresh out of university.  

He made good time, and found himself actually enjoying the crisp night air after the exertion heated him sufficiently.  Like almost any path through Chicago, the trip from Triskelions' to his loft led through run-down neighborhoods, areas that city leaders only talked about during election years. They would grandstand about how much they would do for the residents there, all the while highlighting how little their opponent would do.  In the end nothing changed.  Grimacing as these thoughts ran through his mind he remembered his childhood in a Brooklyn tenement. 

The day's melt, now refrozen, crunched under his feet.  Feeble yellow light flickered from alleys huddled between decaying low-rise buildings, cast by small fires.  Rag garbed shapes huddled around each, seeking what meager warmth they afforded.  None gave notice of his transient gaze.  He turned the corner onto West 29th, heading toward the Norfolk Southern railway tracks.  Prickling on the back of his neck made him look over his shoulder.  The street was empty, the alleys silent and dark.  He shivered and jogged a little faster.  Behind him a sliver of shadow detached itself from the caliginous mass filling the alleyways. 

Gavin turned three-sixty without stopping. He saw nothing.  "I'm getting paranoid," he muttered and trudged on.  Only the report of his steps reached his ears, pervasive silence gripped the street.  One foot in front of the other, he watched each step land on the rime.  Just a few more blocks... He felt something brush against his shoulder and spun around.  No one was visible in the street behind.  He turned back toward his destination.  Before him stood a slender woman.  A part of his brain registered the curves of her body silhouetted by streetlight glare, her shroud of white hair flowing out to an irregular terminus with the surrounding night.  The rest of his brain screamed with admonitions to run, yet, he remained stuck fast.  She smiled and his gaze was riveted on that Cheshire grin, on the delicate and impossibly long canine teeth.  His heart hammered against his ribs.  

The woman spoke.  " Sanguis cor vanire ex corpus."

His eyes bulged from their sockets and his knees gave way beneath him.  Pressure filled his chest, crushing his lungs.  The world before him closed in, his last sight was the woman's gleaming smile.

****

"There was a time," Gabe said as he paced the confines of the Sister's study, "that I would have been down at the coroner's office trying to pry a rational explanation out of the facts.  I don't know what rational is anymore."

"So, you have encountered something outside your former perception of 'rational'?" 

"You could say that."  Gabe paused to stare into the fire before continuing.  "I've got the bodies of three young men, all with a hole the size of my foot blown in their chest.  The hearts are gone along with every ounce of blood.  There's no blood or any of the missing tissue at the crime scene either.  I'm out of ideas."  Gabe sat heavily in one of the overstuffed chairs around the hearth.  

"What you describe is unusual, even from my perspective."  Traveler tapped the end of her nose with her right index finger.  "A werewolf kill is anything but bloodless, vampires can really only extract blood until the heart stops pumping..."

"Unless they retire for a private dinner," Poe said as she slipped into the room, "to a nice cozy place with a high ceiling."  

"So, is that experience talking?"  

"_Gabe_!"

"Maybe, a woman has to eat."

"_Poe_!"

"Das ist ganug!"  The Sister's voice cut the two verbal pugilists short.  "I do grow weary of this childish squabbling."

Gabe had the words; _she started it_, almost spoken before clamping his jaw shut.

"Poe does have a point," Traveler said, "given time at a discreet location I would imagine there may be a more mundane explanation to your mystery."

"That's the thorn.  Even the coroners say the wounds look like the exit of a hollow-point bullet.  The only problem with that theory is that there isn't an entrance wound."  

****

_Well that wasn't much help._  Gabe thought as he crunched through the dirty glazing on the sidewalk.  

"_You are a real grouch lately,_" Mary sounded miffed.  "_You're not going to be able to just get an instant answer every time you encounter something paranormal.  Knowing what you do has just opened up that many more possible explanations.  It's not going to make your job any easier._"

"Hmph," Gabe hated to admit the truth in Mary's words.  He was hoping that the Sister would be able to pull an answer out of thin air.  He knew he'd still have to find where the perpetrator was, but he hoped to learn what it was.  His reverie was broken by the tinny electronic fugue of his cell phone ringing.  "Ansgar," he answered. "On my way."

"_Sounds like number four._"


****

"Do we have a name for this one?"  Gabe stood in the predawn gloom looking down at another body lacking a heart and most of its chest.  

"Gavin Barnes, age 26, worked for some kind of lab company," Jake Brewer took a long drag his ever present cigar.  "A science geek like you Ansgar."

"Thanks Brewer, what would we do without you, and would you mind not sprinkling ashes all over my crime scene?"

"Bah!  It's pretty obvious what we got here, some kind of cult ritualistic killing.  Sick s, that's for sure."  Brewer looked at Gabe through narrowed eyes.  "Maybe that freak  you've been hanging out with knows something?"

_Maybe she does_ Gabe thought.  "If you've no more pearls of wisdom, maybe you'd like to get out of my way and let me process this scene?"

"Be my guest."

The scene was almost identical, another alley, another dumpster, and not a drop of blood.  _How the hell does Brewer know about Poe?_ Gabe answered himself immediately.  _The bastard's been tailing me.  Your friend is going to have to stop tagging along._

"_You afraid of your little friends talking about your freaky girlfriend, fingerprint boy?_"  Mary's words carried an edge as they floated through his mind.

_Yeah, right.  That'd be a cold day in hell, me and Poe._

"_Yes, it would_."

"Would you mind too terribly letting me concentrate?" 

"Hey jerk-off, I haven't said a word." Brewer's thick brows converged to form a single thick ledge over his eyes.  "ing prick.  You're still on my list Ansgar, I still smell something on you.  I think it's your story on the night Jack died.  _I_ don't buy your bullcrap."

_Thanks Mary, remind me to see an exorcist on the way home._  Gabe locked eyes with Brewer, matador and bull staring across the arena.  A tableau reinforced by the difference in size between the two men.  Gabe's jaw tightened.  He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, preparing to evade a charge.  Sudden, intense, light blinded both men.

"Say cheese!"  Chris Ebbings' overly cheerful voice filled the sensory vacuum left by his camera's flash.  He stepped closer to Gabe and whispered, "you do realize he could probably squish you like a spider?"  

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Gabe mumbled, followed by a relieved sigh.

"_Your temper and your smart mouth are going to get us in trouble one day, fingerprint boy_."

_My smart mouth!_  His jaw clenched to the point of pain.  _My smart mouth, you little..._

"Okay boss, where we going to start?  The gang's all here."  Chris gestured to the crime scene van pulling into the alley.

"Right."  Gabe pulled out his notebook and started scribbling.  "You know the drill, junior."




© 2004 Austin Hale


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## Pyske (Jul 19, 2004)

Welcome back.  This was one of the first Story Hours I started reading, but I apparently missed the last update, so it's been about 9 months since I read this.  Glad to have you back; excellent writing as usual. 

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


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## Broccli_Head (Jul 19, 2004)

Good to see you back, L.

Nice new mystery, too.


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## Lamprolign (Jul 20, 2004)

Thanks for the welcome back!  It's good to finally have time to write again!


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## Lamprolign (Aug 3, 2004)

032

The smell of baking bread permeated the atmosphere, overpowering the pungent blend of fumes that ordinarily held sway in the city's air.  Winter was reluctantly giving way to spring, turning snow into grimy mush.  Tiny rivulets wound out of miniature mountain ranges left in the snowplow's wake.  Through this decay of winter a scrawny teenage boy made his way.  He walked with no particular hurry.  Even had he not known his destination the aroma was an unerring guide.

Through the wide doors of the former church a steady stream of haggard and scruffy people passed.  Sol had reached its zenith and the shelter was serving a noon repast to those without the means to feed themselves. The boy slipped into the line and entered with the rest.  Inside, the line of people threaded across the vast main hall to a long counter across which a group of volunteers handed out bowls filled with rich stew and thick slabs of fresh bread.    

"I haven't seen you here before, young fella," the grizzled old man behind a steaming kettle said.  "What's your name?"

"Joshua," the boy answered, grinning.

"Welcome to the Haven, Joshua." The old man gave the boy a gummy smile while handing him a bowl stew.  "There's always plenty food here, and no trouble, the Sister keeps us fed and safe."

Joshua took the stew.  "Thanks," he said as he turned toward the tables.  _It was safe, Pops._

****

Gabe pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes.  He had no sleep the night before, going straight from the Haven to the latest crime scene.  Yawning mightily, he leaned back and stretched before returning to the reams of reports and forms that documented every case.  In these four homicides, none of the information contained in the myriad pages brought him any closer to an explainable cause of death, let alone a suspect.  _And why haven't I had any visions?_  That question bothered him more than he liked to admit.  

"_Maybe your visions are tied to places, not people or things,_" Mary offered.  "_You said yourself that the bodies seemed to have been dumped.  I think your visions pick up on the latent emotional energy left in a place after something happens.  If the killer is disposing of the bodies with the same emotion you feel when tossing a candy wrapper, then there'd be nothing left for you to sense._"

Gabe shrugged.  "Could be."  

"What could be, boss?"

"Dammit Chris!  Make a little noise when you're walking up behind me!"

"And deprive you of the only cardio workout you get?  Far be it!"  Chris beamed with satisfaction.  "So, what could be?"

"Could be that you're going to get clobbered if you don't stop with the sneaking up on people!"  

"Well, if you're in a mood I guess I'll wait 'till later to pass on what I heard from downtown."  Chris's grin now would put a canary-sated cat to shame. 

"All right, junior.  Give."

"Well," Chris paused dramatically, "it seems that our favorite flatfoot found himself a witness.  Seems a bum was sleeping in that alley when the body was dumped."

"Now that's interesting."  Gabe knew beyond a doubt that he wouldn't get any information out of Brewer, but maybe one of the other detectives on the case...

"Brewer's new partner is supposed to be by to get the latest scene workup," Chris said.  "I haven't seen her yet but rumor is she's..."

"Hello!" Gabe said.  "Can I help you?"

"Good morning.  I'm Lori Gies.  I'm here for the report on the Barnes homicide."

Chris sat slightly open-mouthed staring at the woman in their doorway.  In spite of his fortunate interruption of Chris's sentence, Gabe need not imagine how it would have finished.  Detective Gies was a striking woman. Dark brown, almost black, eyes peered from a finely chiseled face framed by chin-length auburn hair.  Her badge was clipped to the belt of her jeans along with a standard issue Berretta 9mm pistol.  

She stepped into the office and extended her hand.  "Gabriel Ansgar, I presume?"

"Doctor Livingston, actually," Gabe said, standing to shake the proffered hand, "and this is my associate, Sir Stanley."  He motioned with his left hand toward Chris.

"Brewer said you were a wiseass," her voice manifested the slightest hint of a Brooklyn accent.

"I'm sure you've heard much more than that."

"Nothing much really, although I do get the distinct impression that you two aren't drinking buddies."

"You could say that."  He sat back down.  "Coffee?"   

"No thanks."  She eyed the stained pot dubiously.  "It looks more like gear oil from here anyway."

"Your loss."  Gabe turned his attention back to his computer.  "The report is almost complete, it'll just be a couple minutes."

"That's fine, I'll wait," Lori sat down in the room's only spare seat.  It creaked and tilted dangerously.  "You guys might want to post a warning on this thing."  She carefully balanced herself to avoid being capsized.

"We haven't lost a visitor yet."  Gabe pecked away at his keyboard.  "I heard you found a witness."  He looked at her over his monitor.

"I think that may be an exaggeration."  She skewed her mouth to one side.  "We found a homeless man sleeping behind a dumpster further down that alley after daylight."

"Did he see anything?"

"Oh he saw plenty," she said, "but I think most of it came out of his bottle of Strawberry Hill."

"Lemme guess, aliens dumped the body?"  He had stopped typing and leaned forward so that most of his face was now above the monitor.

"Almost."  She shook her head slightly.  "The old guy says that a white haired woman passed his spot sometime after midnight.  He kept babbling about red eyes."

"Huh.  Weird."

"I figure it's all pretty useless, but we are keeping an eye out for someone with bleached hair."

"Yeah, sounds like he was pretty deep in the bottle, or something stronger."  Gabe caught the sheets of paper that were sliding out of the printer beside his desk. He dropped them into a manila folder and handed them to Lori.  "Not much to go on, about as useful as your witness."  _At least for a_ rational _explanation._ 


****


Heavy clouds preceding a cold front had brought an early dusk.  Cold rain, driven by a howling southwest wind, pelted Poe's battered overcoat.  There would be sleet and finally snow as the temperature dropped during the night.  From her vantage atop the abandoned apartment building she watched the storm clouds.  Their boiling undersides were illuminated by the city lights and frequent flashes of lightning.  Lost in her thoughts, she sat oblivious to the squall.  She looked down the length of 29th street below her.  _I know you're here..._ 




© 2004 Austin Hale


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## Lamprolign (Aug 22, 2004)

033


A glazing of fresh ice coated the city, every exposed edge trimmed in a skirt of prismatic spears.  Poe strode through the crystalline world left by the storm.  

She approached one of the many rail yards south of the Chicago Ship Canal.  Derelict warehouses and factories created a skyline of crumbling chimneys and broken walls.  The alleys choked on a banquet of debris.  Broken pallets and rusting steel drums piled in drifts alongside buildings and behind decaying chain-link fences.

At irregular intervals, a functioning streetlight pierced the night's cloak.  Poe avoided the small pools of light as she trod the obstacle course.  Many people thought to hide from the darkness beneath the lamps.  They seemed not to realize that standing in the light they could not see into the darkness.  But what lurked in the dark could see them.  

Poe stopped in front of a five-story brick building that stretched for nearly a block in length and width, its many iron-framed windows like so many gaping mouths filled with teeth of shattered glass.  She continued along the building, turning down the alley at its side.

A dozen paces away from the street she stopped and studied the rough brick walls to either side, the patchwork asphalt beneath her feet.  _This was the place, so long ago..._

  Angry shouts echoing from the far end of the alley broke her reverie.  She leapt to a narrow window ledge on the wall above her and looked toward the noise.  A gray-haired man half limped, half ran down the alley toward her.  

"You're outta places to run, pops!"  

Tim Sweeney heard the voice behind him, far closer than it had been moments ago.  He gasped for each breath as he staggered down the alley.  Blood completely obscured the sight in one eye, the other slipped in and out of focus.  Dark red highlighted rips in his overcoat and shirt beneath.  Two young men bearing lock-blade knives pursued.  

"Stop runnin', pops, and we'll make it quick."  _Like hell we will, old er.  You've already pissed me off._  Darin Hunter and his accomplice had tailed the old man from the old Ferguson Hotel, waiting for a sufficiently deserted area.  He wiped the sticky red on his hand across a  shirt already soiled by blood spattered when the old man resisted their acquisition of his wallet.  

Tim staggered further into the pitch black of the alley. _ If only I were twenty again...I'd take those punks!_  But that ability was long past.   They'd knocked the snub-nose .38 from his hand almost before he'd pulled it from his coat pocket.  _What a fool I was to think I could still handle a gun._

The shadow close around him became viscous, almost tangible as he wobbled into a darker length of the alley.  He could no longer see the street under his feet or the sky above.  Something stirred the darkness beside him.  His already straining heart almost gave up when he looked into a pair of glowing red eyes. 

"Rest easy old one.  You're safe now."  A woman’s quiet voice drifted from beneath those eyes.  The eyes then vanished, leaving only darkness.

_God have mercy,_ the old man thought, certain that the angel of death had come for him.  

Darin saw the old man disappear into shadows, then saw shadow billow toward him like a cloud.  The leading edge surged past him, extinguishing all sight.

"What the !?"  He yelled.  "Hey!  Where the  are you, Billy?"

"I'm right here, man!  I can't see a thing!"  Panic edged the reply.

Billy Cannon glanced around frantically in the smothering gloom, searching for anything.  He gasped when he saw narrowed red eyes glaring down at him.

"!  !  Help me!  There's someth...."  the words ended in a short-lived scream.

"Billy!  Where are you, man?  What happened?"  Darin's throat constricted with fear.  He ran, straight into a rough brick-faced wall.  "," he muttered, rolling onto his hands and knees in an effort to regain his feet.  Someone, _something_ grabbed his collar and hoisted him upright.

"You punks like kicking old dogs that can't bite, don't you?"  A woman's voice, soft as steel drawn from the scabbard, whispered in his ear.

Poe smiled when the wretch tried to pull away from her.  _Damn!  I love it when they fight. _ 

****

Inside The Mill, harsh mechanical music reverberated through the fabric of the building itself.  Poe stood in front of track-doors large enough to admit two city garbage trucks side-by-side.  She felt alive with power after her evening's repast.  She had watched the old man stumble away.  His would-be murderers would not be found for some time.  

The suggestion of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.  In spite of The Sister's admonitions, nothing replaced live food, and it was so satisfying when it justly deserved its fate.  

_A woman has to eat._  The thought brought her back to her last conversation with Gabe, and the descriptions of the bodies.  Her smile vanished and older memories awoke.  

She easily slid open the thick doors and scanned the cavernous interior.  Mismatched tables formed a rough border to the open central floor.  The ceiling vaulted four stories above, with balconies encircling the perimeter at each level.  Old chains looped over and through pulleys hung from great steel tracks traversing the vault, remnants of the building's original use.  The air inside was hazy and barely warmer than the chill outside.  The people milling about were clad in myriad combinations of black, gray, white and red.  

Sliding the door closed, she moved across the former factory floor toward a cluster of tables in the far corner.  

"Poe," said a deep, resonating voice from beside her.  "It has been some time since you crossed our threshold."

"She has returned, Kifaru."  Poe stopped and slowly turned to face the source of the voice. 

He crossed massive arms across his barrel chest.  Thin, pale scars formed intricate patterns, straight lines that swirled into concentric circles with rows of pale dots between the lines.  These sleeved his arms and continued onto his torso, disappearing beneath a charcoal tank-top shirt.  He wore fatigues with black/gray-shaded camouflage patterns, tucked crisply into high black boots.  Not a strand of hair marred the perfect ebony dome of his head.  Ochre eyes peered from above broad cheekbones and a blocky, clean-shaven jaw.  Poe stood as a child beside him.  

"Interesting," he said and gestured toward the back tables.  




© Austin Hale, 2004


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## The Axe (Sep 1, 2004)

*Good stuff!*

Just a little bump


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## Lamprolign (Sep 4, 2004)

Thanks Axe.  I've been delayed in getting more installments up dealing with Charley and now hunkering down for Frances.  The Last three weeks have been pretty crazy.  I expect that we'll be without power for a week or two after this storm passes and if there's not too much cleanup in my yard I'm hoping to prop me feet up under a shade tree (providing there are any left standing) and pen a couple installments.


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## The Axe (Sep 27, 2004)

*Danged Nature*

Jeez; Charley, Frances, and now Jeanne---looks like we'll never get an update!


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## ledded (Sep 27, 2004)

The Axe said:
			
		

> Jeez; Charley, Frances, and now Jeanne---looks like we'll never get an update!



Hey, I know how he feels.  Ivan kicked us squarely in the teeth here, then circled around the block and came *back* to throw some things at us while we were still trying to get on our feet.

Great story Lamp, glad to see you back at it.


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## Lamprolign (Oct 8, 2004)

Still alive!  In spite of all mother nature's attempts, and best of all I still have a house _with_ a roof!  That's more than I can say for most of my neighbors.  Remember, generators are our friends, but make sure they're grounded and don't play with them in the rain.   I'm working on the next installment between storm cleanup part III and playing major catch-up at the lab, (65 hours so far this week with one day left to go).  More FS is coming, unfortunately it will continue to be sporadic for a while longer.  Thanks for looking in on the thread folks!


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## Rikandur Azebol (Oct 8, 2004)

*Why reading this ? Because I like it !*

Mother nature can be dangerous ... Frequently she floods my basement on the spring, despite my best efforst to stop this rampage.    

Keep the good writing, and make a peace treaty with mother nature.


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## Lamprolign (Nov 8, 2004)

034


"Red eyes," Gabe muttered. The rhythmic sway of the last Blue Line run to Rosemont lulled him into the murk between slumber and waking.  

"_I told you it was a vampire._"

Gabe opened his eyes and stared at the metal ceiling above.  _I was well on my way to a nap, Mary.  Dark forces...._  His eyes wandered to the large windows, street lights beside the track dissolved into glowing trails as the train slipped past.  _Well, at least we know it wasn't your chum, wrong hair color._

"_Poe's really a good person, Gabe.  Why can't you two get along better?_"  

"I don't know, oil and water I guess," his voice sounded odd, echoing in the empty train car.  "I need to talk to her again though."

"_Just because she's a vampire doesn't mean she'll automatically know something._"

"I'm not saying she does, but I have no idea what a vampire is capable of."

"_Well, you can forget most of the stuff from the movies._"

****


"Are you certain child?"

Poe craned her neck to make eye contact with the giant walking beside her.  "The cops have four bloodless bodies with their hearts ripped out.  Her gaze dropped to the rough concrete floor on which she trod.  "So yeah, I'm certain." 

Kifaru continued in silence to the wall opposite the entrance and passed through a narrow door concealed in shadows.  Inside, under a pool of flickering fluorescent light, sat a small round table with four wooden chairs.  Three Alice Cooper concert posters, barely visible through decades' worth of grime, hung on the nearest wall.  Poe lowered herself into one of the chairs. She placed her elbows on the scratched tabletop and rested her forehead in her hands.  

"I will kill her."  Her voice was muffled, as if reluctant to pass the cascade of dark hair that draped to the table.

"If it is Mara, she has not returned without a reason."  Kifaru regarded Poe solemnly.  "She will not be so easy to kill."

"She can't be allowed to continue..."

"Are you certain that is what moves you?"

"Yes...! no, I don't know..." her voice trailed off. 

Kifaru reached out and cupped Poe's chin in his hand.  "You were saved from the madness.  Do you not think that she deserves the same chance?"

"What _chance_ did she give me?!"  Poe stood, violently pulling away, sending her chair skidding across the floor.  "She's past redemption!"

"Even then she was confounded."

"She knew what she was doing!  She knew what they meant to me!"

"Her passions consumed her, Poe.  Do not let the same happen to you."

"Will you help me or not?"

Many silent moments passed before he responded.  "Yes."


****

Uncertain light, loath to resist the gloom, flickered through the expanse of the old gymnasium.  Skittering shuffles echoed through the rafters as several ghouls moved quickly away from the main door.  Karin looked up from the moldering tome that lay before her.  A grimace of irritation gave way to carefully composed neutrality when she sensed the source of the ghoul's agitation.  

"I see you have found a new home," a deep voice rumbled from the shadows, "and it is a decided improvement over your previous accommodations."  

Karin did not move as the voice's owner came into sight.  His shoulders barely fit through the door, the dark gray hat atop his head brushed the doorframe. He wore a long gray coat, and the two trunk-like legs that supported the giant were clad in light gray trousers and ended in black oxford shoes.

"Nice of you to notice, Travis," she pushed an errant strand of dark hair behind her ear, "but I'm sure that you aren't here merely to compliment my décor."

"Astute as ever, I think that is why Amicia favors you so."  He smiled and shifted his hat revealing chiseled features and a long scar that ran from chin to scalp.  "She is concerned by your recent progress, and most of all, your previous employer's loss of the child."  

Karin stood.  The polished stone table between her and the man seemed flimsy shelter.  "I can do nothing for the past, only work for the present.  I have someone on the inside."

"Yes, the boy, Joshua," the man's cold gaze drifted from the book on the table to rest solidly on her.  "Your choice in servants is somewhat questionable, he is too unpredictable."

"He'll do as he is told."

"I trust that you will see to it."

"He knows his place."

Travis moved a step closer to the table.  "That matter is in your hands, but it was not that alone that prompted my visit tonight.  One of the _Vrykolakas_ has been overly active of late, and very indiscreet. She may complicate our machinations."  

"She is part of those machinations, she and the Sister's pet have a history that we can exploit."

"I know of their history, but a deranged Vrykolakas is no ghoul to be commanded by craft."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Enticing Mara back to Chicago was ill-advised.  She draws far too much attention to her activities, both from authorities, _and_ the Haven."  Travis placed ham sized fists on the table and leaned forward.  "Amicia has a great deal of faith in your abilities.  I do not.  If you fail a second time..."

****

Gabe sat quietly contemplating the scuffs and scratches on the train's black rubber flooring.  He scarcely noticed the recorded voice announcing California Avenue as the next stop.  Instinctively he leaned toward the rear of the train, anticipating the deceleration as they entered the station.  The voice announced the stop again as the familiar whine of the brakes slowing several tons of steel grew in volume.  The sound faltered and distorted.  _Are the brakes failing_? 

Asphalt replaced rubber under his feet.  The clacking of the train was replaced by sounds of distant traffic.  _The Kennedy Expressway_, he thought.  Gabe looked around quickly.  He could see the lights of the California station a hundred yards to his left.  The elevated tracks of the Blue Line were directly over his head, but no train disturbed the night.  He looked left.  Mary's white hair shone a dull orange in light from sodium vapor lamps mounted on the underside of the track.  

A young man with a stubbly jaw and long brown hair pulled back tightly behind his head walked quickly towards them.  His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his battered military field coat.  Nervously he glanced over his shoulder, and then looked toward the station lights.  A small smile brightened his otherwise grim countenance.  His pace quickened.  He was only a few yards from them now.

Waves of fierce emotion crashed through Gabe's mind, hunger; rage; exhilaration.  He saw the man momentarily surrounded in a ochre hued aura.  As quickly as it came, the tide of foreign emotions ebbed.  His vision was obscured.  He stumbled back.  At first he thought Mary in front of him, but the woman he saw was much taller.  The young man stood stock still, his face ashen beneath the cold lights.  

"Sanguis cor vanire ex corpus," the woman spoke.

Face contorted in paroxysms of agony, he was lifted above the ground. His limbs and head forced back and chest thrown forward.  The woman extended her hand and a gaping hole opened in his chest.  An amoebic mass of gore hemorrhaged into the night air, orbiting the still-beating heart.  It shimmered in the light and slowly grew with luminescence of its own.  The heart dissolved into the now glowing mass as it elongated and split into multiple tendrils, encircling the woman.  She spread her arms wide and the phosphorescent coil eddied around her.   The light imploded, vanishing in a shower of fine ash that quickly dissipated in the wind.  

Mary grabbed to Gabe's coat sleeve and stepped close beside him.  "I've never seen anything like that," she whispered.

"No shi..."  Gabe's words fell silent when woman turned and looked directly at them.  

He was back in the train car.  Gabe grabbed seat beside him, the world was tilting dangerously beneath him.  The train doors hissed and began to close.

"!"  He jumped towards the quickly diminishing opening.  The doors slammed shut as his foot cleared.  He landed badly on the concrete platform, but managed to roll to his feet.  Still dazed, he spun in a circle.  "Which way!?"

"_To your left.  No!  Your other left!_"  Mary's voice cleared his muddled thoughts.

Gabe pelted down the staircase and onto the street below.  He could see the place, and a lump lying at the edge of the light.  He skidded to a halt beside the body.  It was positioned such that the crater in the chest was clearly visible.  A small tendril of steam rose from the still-warm wound.  

"_I think we should..._" Mary's words were cut short when Gabe registered the sharp prickling of his neck hair standing on end.  He spun one-eighty and came face to face with a pair of red eyes framed by snow-colored hair. 



© 2004, Austin Hale


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## ledded (Nov 8, 2004)

Niiiice.  Havent been by here in a while, and I'm glad I wandered back in.  Very good work here, I like how it's really shaping up into something good and all spine-tingly.


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## Broccli_Head (Nov 8, 2004)

I echo that sentiment...glad to see the Fixer back too


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## Lamprolign (Nov 9, 2004)

Thanks for commenting!  My apologies for the slow progress of updates, the daily grind and all that rot keeps interfering.


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## fenzer (Nov 10, 2004)

Hey Lamp, it's been a while.  I'm glad to see your still writing.  Age has done only good things to your work.  

Write soon.


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## Lamprolign (Nov 20, 2004)

035
_Feeling unknown
and you're all alone,
flesh and bone,
by the telephone,
lift up the receiver,
I'll make you a believer_
 - Depeche Mode, (Johnny Cash cover), _Personal Jesus_


"_...run!_"  

"Sanguis co..."

"_Tharae curoon taranis!_"

A jagged bolt of blue-white lightning struck the woman squarely in the torso, cutting off her incantation and throwing her against a railway pylon with a loud thump.  Adrenaline and magic pounded in Gabe's veins.  The smell of burnt hair and scorched flesh assaulted his nostrils.  He saw the woman rise unsteadily from the pavement. 

"Ròiseal viitahea!" 

A compression wave flashed outward.  She threw herself at the ground.  The worst of the blast screamed over her head, striking the concrete and steel of the elevated rails in a shower of gravel and the scream of bending girders. 

"_Oops..._"  

The woman exploded from the dust, both feet striking Gabe squarely in the chest, forcing the air from him and throwing him across the narrow street.  He hit the ground rolling and came swiftly to a crouch, facing his adversary.  Stabbing pain with each breath marked at least one broken rib.  _Where is Poe when you need her?_  The woman backed a step and he saw her mouth moving.

"_She's casting!_"  Mary shouted in his mind.  "_Caer’aroon naes naeor!_"

Gabe's arms snapped up and blue fire streamed out to meet a matching stream of red incandescence.  The two energies exploded against one another sending the pugilists to the ground amid a shower of asphalt and embers.  He regained his feet a split second before her but already the glimmer of arcane fire surrounded her arms.  It shot out for him.  He ducked beneath the stream of uncanny flame.  Struggling with protesting retinas he saw a dark shape soaring through the night directly at him.

"Sgiath!" He and Mary cried in unison. The creature impacted on an unseen shield scarcely an arm's length away.  "Balaas aingeal!" glowing crimson mist swirled around Gabe's hand then sped outward in a column.

The attack caught his assailant off balance, striking her solidly in the face.  She fell to the ground screaming.  Shadow swirled around her and swiftly expanded to engulf the area.  _Damn, I can't see a thing._

"_Listen..._"

Gabe heard the scrape of boots on the asphalt and launched himself in that direction.

"_Wai..._"

His consciousness exploded into millions of exquisitely clear slivers of pain as something very hard moving very fast connected with his left temple.  Dazed, he spun in a circle, the ground felt like a surface of rolling marbles.  He fell hard, sending a wave of agony through his chest.  Through the ringing in his ears he thought he heard the distant whine of sirens and the rapid thud of retreating footfalls.  

Every circuit in his brain resisting the effort, Gabe rose and ran in the after the sound.  The unnatural darkness had dissipated leaving only the normal gloom of night.  He pelted down a street lined by old but well maintained houses that ran perpendicular to the tracks.  Every jolting step sent another stab of pain through his chest.  He tasted the salty, coppery essence of blood in his mouth.  He neither saw, nor sensed any sign of his adversary.  A coughing fit left bright red blood onto the pavement.  He slowed to a walk, then stopped and finally sank to his knees.  Each gasping breath brought gurgling deep in his chest.  _Not good._   Convulsive coughing left a patch of blood wider than his shadow on the sidewalk.  

"_Gabe?_"

He heard Mary's voice as if whispered from afar.  His thoughts were mired in quicksand, detached, he watched as the edges of his vision began to close in.

"_Gabe!_"


****

"Sweet Jesus," Jake Brewer said as he climbed out of the unmarked police cruiser.

Lori Gies did not respond as she surveyed the scene.  Fire engines and police tape demarked the area of devastation. She noted the knee-deep crater surrounded by patches of burning asphalt that were still being extinguished.  The nearest support pylon for the L tracks lying in a heap of shattered concrete and twisted steel. The rails above sagged dangerously earthward.  Near the ruined pylon a white sheet covered what was obviously a body.  She easily stooped under the yellow line and continued into the destruction.

Brewer snapped the tape in his passing.  "Fix that," he said to the nearest patrolman.  He stopped a few paces in, visually sweeping the area.  "Where in the hell are these scumbags getting this kind of firepower?"

Lori was already too far ahead to hear over the babble of radio communications emanating from the radios carried by the uniformed officers.  She came to the sheet draped body and flipped the covering back deftly.  Glazed, pale blue eyes stared blindly back at her from a face matching the sheet in hue. She pulled the sheet back further and examined the gaping wound in his chest.  _Same wounds, but not the same MO..._ Covering the body, she rose and walked toward the crater.  

She stopped at the edge.  Against the night's chill she could feel faint heat emanating from the pit.  Pulling a flashlight out of her coat pocket she looked closely at the interior of the basin.  It glinted with reflected light.  The earth had been melted and fused.  She knelt and brought her nose bare millimeters from the ground and inhaled slowly.  Underlying the stench of burnt asphalt and charred earth she smelled the barest hint of sulfur.  _Very interesting._  She stood, noticing a group of spectators standing past the perimeter she walked toward them.

Brewer stomped around the scene with the finesse and personable charm of a T. rex.  He came upon the CSI unit as they arrived.  "Pete, where's Ansgar?"

"He's not on this shift tonight."  

"Funny, he always seems to be in the area when something weird goes on."  Brewer scratched his head absently.  This was the third time he'd stood on a battlefield in his own backyard.  Even the Feds and their explosives experts had found not a trace of chemical residue.  At least none that they'd shared with 'us little city cops.'  

"Well, everyone I've talked to claims to have seen nothing until after the fireworks," Lori said as she walked back from the perimeter.

"I'm not surprised, most people in these neighborhoods have enough sense just to keep their heads down when they hear things going boom in their front yard."  Brewer was walking toward the railway pylon.  "I think we've got a turf war going on in town, something right out of Capone's days but with rockets."

"And the bled out bodies?"

"I think it's some kind of cult thing going on," Brewer said.  "Some Satan worshipping pukes leaving a calling card for the home team."

Lori looked over her shoulder at the morgue crew removing the body and said nothing.

****

Gabe Ansgar lay on his stomach, his head turned to one side, in a slowly congealing brown puddle.  His breathing was shallow, almost imperceptible except for the low gurgling that accompanied each exhalation.  The air stirred sending a few survivors of the past autumn's leaves skittering past his quietly drowning body.  A shadow fell across Gabe's head.

A woman, wrapped tightly in a black oilskin drover coat, knelt beside Gabe's body.  Sharp brown eyes set above broad cheekbones surveyed the fallen investigator.  Absently she pushed an unruly strand of sepia-colored hair behind a smallish ear.  With a calloused hand, she pulled the upturned collar of his coat back and leaned closer to his face.  "He doesn't look like much does he?"  Her voice was soft, almost a child's

From out of ratty hedge bordering the sidewalk, a large raccoon strolled.  It turned its head to regard her.  Chirping once, it sniffed the air vigorously then chittered at the woman.

"I think the blood gave that away, Abby."  The woman sighed and looked up and down the street.  "We better move him before somebody else comes along."  A slight smile touched her face.  "She's going to be very pleased with us."  


© 2004, Austin Hale


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## Lamprolign (Nov 20, 2004)

Two updates within two weeks of each other.  I half expect a rock the size of Texas to hit us or something...


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## Dakkareth (Nov 21, 2004)

Glad to see this continuing


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## Captain Claymore (Nov 23, 2004)

Visceral, vivid and some other V words. Just like I remembered it. You do "magic" combat very well. Can't wait for the next update.


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## Lamprolign (Nov 24, 2004)

As always, thanks for the comments folks.  There will be more updates soon.


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## Jodo Kast (Nov 24, 2004)

Great work, Lampy.  I just caught up on the storyline, and after our long overdue meeting today I'm eager to get back to work in the First Sight universe.  Something wicked this way comes...


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## Lamprolign (Dec 7, 2004)

036


Joshua awoke to the sound of the old man in the bunk beneath him snoring.  Once conscious, the sounds of people all around breathing, mumbling, snoring, and coughing, even the creaks as they shifted in their sleep, grated like nails screeching across a chalkboard.  Bile rose in his throat at the thought of the power being wasted to help this worthless trash.  He closed his eyes and imagined the ways he would kill them all, starting with the snoring wretch beneath him.  

Below, the corner of the old man's blanket twitched and began to move.  Like a serpent it inched upwards.  With the barest tickle it wound itself around his neck.

_They should all be purged,_ he fumed, but first their guardians would need to be eliminated.  To do that he had to stay inconspicuous, gain the fools' trust and learn their secrets.  Karin's instructions to him were simple: lay low and observe, then pass everything on to her.  Joshua did not know exactly what it was she was after and honestly he didn't care.  She was just a means to an end.  

The blanket-snake tightened in silence.  The old man's eyes popped open and he made a small gurgling sound.  _! _  Joshua's gloating machinations ended abruptly when he realized his secret was about to be revealed, in a big way.  Strangulation would leave obvious signs but he couldn't let the old man go about spouting tales of being attacked by his blanket either.  He smiled when the solution sprang into his mind: asphyxiation wouldn't leave marks...

Another corner of the blanket clamped firmly over the old man's mouth and nose, while the length coiled around his neck loosened.  Instantly the rest of the blanket wrapped tightly about his arms and legs.  His eyes bulged as he strained against his woolen assailant, then he lay still.  Joshua looked around quickly.  No one else in the bunk room stirred.  _Well, that was easy_.  The blanket unwound itself from the man and settled across him as gently as if spread by a mother's hand.  _What a shame, the poor old codger just passed away in the night..._  Joshua rolled over and drifted to sleep, grinning like a child after his first Christmas.  


****

A piercing whistle emanated from the burnished copper kettle suspended over the roaring fire in the Sister's hearth.  The kettle levitated off its hook and floated to her waiting, mitt-covered hand.  She poured the vigorously boiling water into an earthenware teapot made in the oriental style: a straight handle molded into the vessel separated by ninety degrees from the spout.  A small amount of fragrant steam escaped before she placed the tight-fitting lid in place.  She released the kettle and it floated obediently back to its hook, which had swung away from the fire.  Traveler sat in one of the overstuffed chairs slowly leafing through a weighty tome.  

"For the first time in three hundred years a novitiate, much less two are presented to us and both are lost," the Sister said as she sat in her accustomed chair, her face betraying great weariness.  

"Mary may yet be saved."

"You believe the old books survived?"

"Until very recently I thought not, but I have suspicion that a sanctuary lies sealed near the peak of Sutay Uul, in the Altai."  Traveler's gaze turned to the window and the forest of gravestones beyond.  "I will depart once I collect my assistant."

Several moments of silence passed before the Sister spoke again.  "It nearly happened again," she spoke slowly, staring into the flames.  "When I banished Abrams' demon from Gabriel he nearly took Mary's soul with him."

Traveler closed the book that she held before her.  "You cannot continue to blame yourself for what happened then," she turned a stern gaze on the Sister.  "Unlike Mary, she brought her fate upon herself.  She was no newly initiated sorceress, she knew the dangers inherent in calling on those powers and she knew the inescapable fate of all who do so."

****

Gabe smelled char, then he heard the muted sounds of traffic and sensed bright light though his eye lids. _What the hell happened?_  He inhaled experimentally.  His chest felt bruised and stiff, but the stabbing pain was gone.  He opened his eyes.  Sunlight pouring through windows stabbed directly into his brain.   

"Rise and shine." 

He found himself lying on his own couch.  There was a strange woman in his house.  _Well, this hasn't happened since college..._  She was wearing faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt of muted browns and greens.  The shirt was open revealing a black t-shirt with ' you' printed across the front in large friendly letters.  Her left eyebrow was pierced thrice by small steel bars.  She looked young, curvy and solidly built, but not unattractive.   

"Who the hell are you?"  

"That's no way to greet the lady who just saved your ass," she replied from her roost on the edge of his cluttered coffee table.  She stood, pulling her dark reddish-brown hair back into a tight pony tail that ended between her shoulder blades.  With her arms raised, Gabe clearly saw a black Kevlar holster holding a HK Mark 23 pistol tucked under each arm.  She noticed the direction of his gaze. 

"Nice guns, huh?"  She winked, turning to show her profile.

"Uhm," Gabe said, thinking, _not bad._

"_Gabe!_"

He sat up and grimaced.  He noticed that his clothes were matted with dried blood and coated with grime and soot.  

"_Vampire one, Gabe zero,_" Mary dryly intoned.

_Do you know this person?_ he silently asked.

"_I've never seen her before in my life.  Or in my afterlife, or whatever this is, for that matter."_

"I patched you up the best I could under the circumstances, but you’ll probably want to see your friends at the old church if you’re concerned about little things like scarring."  The woman now stood directly in front of him with her arms crossed.  "You did all right for a rook mixing it up with an old vamp.  In the future, don’t start something you can’t finish."  

"Thanks, I think."  After a moment's delay Gabe's mind latched onto _the old church_.  "You know the Sister?"

"We've crossed paths.  She's not fond of my methods."  She patted one of her pistols as she said the latter.  "So I tend not to visit often."

"Okay, back to who and what are you?"

"My name is Ri, and I guess you could think of me as a roadie.  Lucky for you I was in town last night."  She gave him a lopsided grin and a wink.  Flinging her coat over her shoulders, she swept through his kitchen and out the back door without another word.

He sat scratching his head, utterly perplexed.  "Where do these freaks keep coming from?"

****

The temperatures that day had risen above freezing again and a slow drizzle from a weak cold front dampened every corner of the city.  The sun was just disappearing over the horizon and dropping temperatures turned the drizzle to light sleet, coating the wet pavement in ice.  Poe was lost in the myriad reflections and colors of light caught and morphed by the ice.  She knelt on a rooftop, beside the building's droning HVAC unit.  The steady rumble of the fans drowned out the mixed noises of the city, creating a sort of roaring silence.

Her thoughts wandered back, over two decades ago, before. . . . 

********
It was three weeks almost to the day since she had been fired from Tommy's Diner and her money was gone.  Elle Hokoma sat at one of the far back tables inside The Mill playing with the strings of the black leather bracers she wore on each arm.  She didn't feel much like joining the revelers pounding in time to the punk rock music.  Only four months had passed since the fight with her parents.  She had left their comfortable middle-class home in the suburbs and never looked back.  _Yeah, look at me, I'm so much better off,_ she thought, skewing her delicate features into an ugly grimace.  

"Such a pretty face, don't ruin it with such an ugly expression."  A young woman with finely chiseled features and hair the color of newly fallen snow slid gracefully into the seat across from Elle.

" off."  Her expression darkened even more.  "Who asked you to have a seat?"

"I like you.  I can tell that about people at once you know," the woman said as she leaned across the table.  In the dim lighting her face seemed as devoid of color as her hair.  She wore a deep red corset and a skirt that revealed far more than it covered.  Her arms and legs were covered in black fishnet which terminated under fingerless gloves and shiny black leather boots.  

"Who the  are you?"

"I'm your new best friend."

"Listen head, I don't need any friends."

"Such a severe child," the woman said, completely oblivious to Elle's responses.  "Whatever shall we call you?"  

Elle sat staring at the strange woman, for once without a quick (if never particularly well thought-out) retort.  The crowd shifted and the woman looked over her shoulder.  Her gaze followed a trio of young men drifting toward the exit.

"I really have to go now, but I will see you tomorrow night."  With preternatural grace she rose and disappeared into the crowd.

********

The crunch of a heavy step on roof gravel brought Poe's attention back to the present.  A large shadow fell across her face and she looked up at Kifaru's giant form.

"Are you ready?"



© 2004, Austin Hale


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 7, 2004)

Lamprolign said:
			
		

> The crunch of a heavy step on roof gravel brought Poe's attention back to the present.  A large shadow fell across her face and she looked up at Kifaru's giant form.
> 
> "Are you ready?"
> 
> ...




Cool. Vampire fight.


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## Jodo Kast (Dec 10, 2004)

_"For the first time in three hundred years a novitiate, much less two are presented to us and both are lost," the Sister said as she sat in her accustomed chair, her face betraying great weariness. 

"Mary may yet be saved."

"You believe the old books survived?"

"Until very recently I thought not, but I have suspicion that a sanctuary lies sealed near the peak of Sutay Uul, in the Altai." Traveler's gaze turned to the window and the forest of gravestones beyond. "I will depart once I collect my assistant."_

Cool stuff Lamp!  I've been waiting for the quest to return Mary to her body to be chronicled.  Sounds like a great adventure is in store for Traveler and her companion.  Of course, while they are off in the Altai, I'll be wreaking havoc with Gabe & Co. in the First Sight: Witch Hammer story arc.    Be afraid.  Be very afraid.


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## Lamprolign (Dec 16, 2004)

My apologies for posting without a new update, but Hanasays just finished a First Sight wallpaper image which she's posted over at Deviant Art. http://www.deviantart.com/view/13213874/  I think it's pretty darned cool to say the least.


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## The Axe (Jan 17, 2005)

*Bump*

Buh-duh-BUMP!


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## The Axe (Mar 19, 2005)

**Does his best Horatio impersonation**

Anybody there?


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## Arkhandus (Apr 12, 2005)

Aye, creepy and neat.  Just remember that a lot of us readers are mostly lurkers and don't really post much.  {:^D


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## Lamprolign (Apr 24, 2005)

My apologies for the long absence folks.  The evil, time draining monster of work keeps stealing both writing time and energy.  Rest assured though that eventually I'll be back.  There is a First Sight Blog (http://www.deadjournal.com/users/lamprolign/) where I whine about the lack of time to write without raising false hopes by posting said whines to the forum.  Thanks for the feedback, it does a soul good to be missed.


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## The Axe (Sep 9, 2005)

**grabs a stick**

*poke poke*


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## Arkhandus (Sep 15, 2005)

**poke**

*joins in with the poking, but uses a fireplace poker instead*


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## Lamprolign (Jan 3, 2008)

It has been a little over three years since I last posted to this story hour.  There are many reasons for the hiatus, some connected to daily life getting in the way, some caused by wandering off along other creative paths and I'm not going to bore anyone with the details.  Somehow though my thoughts keep coming back to the original story hour thread and the plot arc that was slowly forming, an arc that I think I need to finish.  Installment 037 was actually written back in 2005 and at the time I hesitated to post it because it delves into some pretty dark subject matter and per the original guidelines of the ENWorld boards I wasn't sure if it would offend the grandmothers of the world.  Hesitation turned to procrastination which opened the door to distraction and _First Sight_ (the story hour form) has languished since.  I have gotten fed up with myself for never finishing a project and I always enjoyed telling this story, so with the new year comes a new attention to the old hour.  To all the original readers that are still haunting these boards: my apologies for leaving the story hanging.  To any new readers: start from the beginning, _First Sight_ is an organic creation, each installment grows from the previous.  I hope that I can still tell an entertaining story and in particular bring Gabe and Mary's story to a satisfying resolution.  So, if it pleases you, read on.  Be warned that the following is the most disturbing _First Sight_ installment yet, (at least for me in the writing of it.)     -Lamprolign








*037*

_red light gray morning
you stumble out of a hole in the ground
a vampire or a victim
it depends on who's around_
U2  -_ Stay "Far Away, So Close"_


The crunch of a heavy step on roof gravel brought Poe's attention back to the present.  A large shadow fell across her face and she looked up at Kifaru's giant form.

"Are you ready?"

Poe's gaze dropped back to the toes of her heavy boots.  Slowly she stood, turning away from Kifaru. She gazed across the urban sprawl that washed against the not so distant island of skyscrapers.  _My choice... _


************


The music tonight did not pound with the harsh cords of metallic rock.  The DJ on Wednesday nights had a fixation with Siouxsie and the Banshees.  Wispy lyrics fronting instruments tuned in minor keys swirled through the old factory on tendrils of mist.  Elle had arrived just as the club's massive owner unlocked the doors.  She smiled at the huge black man whose arms were covered in intricate patterns of pale scarification lines.  He nodded solemnly as she passed.

She continued into the cavernous space and found her usual spot, a table outside the main flow of people that still afforded a clear view of the dance floor and the entrance.  She rarely spoke but enjoyed observing the crowd.  

****

"Hi Elle!"  The blond haired girl's voice was filled with genuine cheer as she plopped down in the seat across from Elle.  Grinning, she propped her sharp chin on the heels of both hands.  "How long have you been here?"

"Hello Christy," Elle smiled wanly, "since they unlocked the doors.  It's warmer than outside."

"Outside?"

"Colletti kicked me out of my apartment today."  Elle sighed.  "The bastard said he could think of other ways for me to pay the rent," she spat, "mother er." 

".  Why don't you come where I stay?  They're really nice there."

"I am not going to a shelter, especially one in a church.  If I wanted to be preached to I would have stayed with my parents."

"But they don..." Christy was cut short by the arrival of a waitress with bright orange hair and two drinks.

"We didn't order anything," Elle said crossly.  

"I did."  The snow-haired woman slid into a seat at the table.  

"Thanks!"  Christy piped.

"Just what do you want?"  Elle said

"Nothing at all," the woman said.  "I told you last night, I like you."  She looked quickly over her shoulder.  "Ah, I see some new pieces have entered play."  She turned back toward them, "relish your drinks.  The evening is to enjoy!"  The woman swiftly rose and disappeared into the crowd.  Elle and Christy looked at each other.

 Elle shrugged. "Who knows?"

"But don't look a gift drink in the mouth."  Christy lifted the glass high and took a long slurp.  "Mmmm, daiquiri!"  

Elle took a small sip, _ooo,_ strong.  The alcohol paused for only a moment in her empty stomach before soaking her brain.  She took another drink, more this time.  Smiling broadly, she sat the glass down hard on the table.   "That is good!"

In a short while the Mill filled to capacity and the music shifted from slow haunting tunes to electronic and fast-paced.  The two girls remained at the table throughout, their conversation becoming more animated as the evening progressed.  As they finished each drink it was quickly replaced.  

"So what are you going to do for a home?"  Christy shouted over the pounding music.  She was trying to prop her chin on the heel of her hand but her elbow kept missing the table.

Giggling, Elle leaned forward and shouted back, "I don't know.  Maybe I'll just stay here, hide in the bathroom or something."  

Both girls chortled but there was a desperate edge to Elle's laughter.  The shadow of reality lurked in the back of her mind, waiting to snatch any reprieve away.  

"Hello ladies."

Their laughter died as a rangy young man in black jeans and a tank-top t-shirt twirled the empty chair backwards and sat down.  He had wavy dark hair and bloodshot gray eyes.  

"I heard that you girls needed to be shown a good time."  He smiled broadly, leaning first towards Christy, then Elle.

"We were having a good time until you sat down."  Elle scowled at him.  

"Aw, don't be that way."  He leaned back toward Christy, "how about you baby. You wanna have some fun?"  He ran his hand along the inside of her thigh.

Christy splashed the remains of her drink squarely in the man's face.

"Bitch!"  He pushed violently back from the table, sent it sliding into Christy, knocking her to the floor.  "ing whore!"  He drew back his foot to kick her.

A massive ebony hand closed around the man's neck, lifting him off the ground.  "Do you have a problem?"  The deep voice of the club's owner rumbled above the din.

The man gurgled in response.  His face was already turning purple.

"You get one warning, after that you go out. Walking, or in a bag, it really doesn't matter to me."  He lowered the man to the ground, pushing him back as he released him.  

The man eyed Christy darkly where she sat on the floor before he turned and pushed through the crowd.

"Are you alright?"  The giant offered his hand to the girl.

"I'm okay," she answered, taking the proffered hand.

"We have more than our share of troublemakers tonight."  He turned and looked straight into Elle's eyes when he spoke the next words.  "Watch yourselves."

 "I think I'm ready to go home."

"We better hang out here for a little while," Elle replied.  "Give that head a chance to get lost.  Besides, I've got nowhere to go."

"You can come with me, one night isn't going to kill you."

"Maybe."

****
It was in the small hours of the morning when the music changed abruptly from pounding dance beats to Buffalo Springfield.  The Mill's owner used it as a not so subtle announcement that closing time was near.  Christy had continued drinking through the night, each empty glass quickly and quietly replaced.  Elle stopped immediately after the altercation with the young man.  The event had unnerved her and she wanted her wits about her if the punk returned.  She stood and looked around the room.  Few people remained and she did not see the young man, nor did she see the strange snow-haired woman.

"Let's go."

"Waha?  Whya?"  Christy mumbled, "are you coming to the church?"

"Yes, I'll go there."  _At least to make sure you do, _ Elle thought.

Half carrying the inebriated girl, Elle made for the door.  The Mill's owner nodded as she passed.   Christy struggled with her coat until Elle helped her.  A step past the doorway and the driving northwest wind cut through Elle’s own worn leather coat.  She didn't remember exactly where the shelter was but hoped that by the time they got in the general area Christy would have sobered enough to find it.  Elle paused, looking over her shoulder.  Nothing stirred on the street behind them.  It hadn't taken long for a kid from the suburbs to learn that paranoia was healthy in the city.  She shifted Christy's weight and trudged on.

From the gaping door of an abandoned warehouse the young man with wavy hair watched the two girls move down the street and disappear into an alley.  He smiled and stepped out into the street.  High above his head, precariously balanced on a crumbling brick chimney, red eyes tracked him as he followed the women into the alley.  

****
Elle whirled, she was certain she'd heard something.  She saw nothing save a decaying dumpster that hadn't been emptied in years.  The alley seemed longer tonight...

****
He peered out from behind the dumpster that he'd ducked behind when the brunette stopped suddenly.  The blond was too drunk to do anything but her friend was alert.  She would need to be taken care of first.  

****
Elle tried to hurry Christy along.  She stumbled, Elle barely catching her before she tumbled to the pavement.  Moving slower now, Elle was practically carrying the inebriated girl.  She heard the crunch of a footstep behind her an instant before sharp pain exploded in the back of her head.  

****
High above, now standing on the narrow purchase of a windowsill, a broad smile spread below the luminous red eyes.  She slipped through the broken window behind her, into the rafters of a century-old warehouse.  Below, the young man dragged the unconscious girls out of the alley.  The blond regained consciousness as he wrapped tape around her mouth, thrashing to free herself.  The woman leaned forward, on the verge of teetering off of her precarious perch.  This one was very lively.  She reveled in her repeated cries.  A tiny rivulet of dark blood trickled down her chin as she bit back glee.  The young man was very thorough in his treatment, as she knew he would be.  She always chose wisely, picking those that would give her the best spectacle.

****

Awareness came back to Elle on a tide of muffled screams.  Her eyes opened to a dimly lit blur.  She rolled her head toward the sounds and the movement brought brilliant pain.  She couldn't open her mouth. Something was wrapped around her head, tape she thought, sealing her mouth.  Likewise her arms and legs were wrapped.  She struggled to free herself but could not loosen the bonds.  The sounds subsided to whimpers and her vision cleared enough to see Christy curled in the fetal position on the filthy concrete floor.  Her hair was in complete disarray, pulled from the neat ponytails.  Her wrists were tightly wrapped with duct tape and a strip was across her mouth.  Half of her face was a ruin, her left eye swollen shut and blood was streaming freely from both nostrils.   

****

The blond was nearly gone, her cries reduced to low whimpers when she made any sound at all. _ Boring,_ she thought and anticipated his moving to the dark haired girl. _ Don't disappoint me... _ He began with a kick to her stomach, then another to her face.  The observer frowned when the girl refused to cry out, but her interest was piqued anew when she caught a glimpse of the raw hatred on her face.  _Not what I expected, but still entertaining. _   She watched for nearly an hour.  She was growing bored again and the young man's energy had worked her appetite to a fever.

****
Elle was beyond pain.  Hatred burned through her, its fire keeping her clinging to consciousness.  Through eyes nearly swollen shut she looked up at her assailant.  He was breathing hard, exhausted from his labors.  He grinned and kicked her again for good measure.  When she opened her eyes again she saw a sliver of shadow break from the rafters above and plummet toward him.  

****

He felt the chill breeze behind him.  He turned, excitement and gloating lost before the glowing red eyes and fanged grin of the snow-haired woman.  He managed three steps in a sprint for the alley door before thin steel fingers clamped around his neck.  He was lifted into the air and slammed against cold concrete.    

****

She inhaled deeply.  The smells of fear and hatred in the old warehouse were intoxicating, surpassed only by the ravenous need that surged from her gut.  She wanted to play with this one a little more, but hunger overpowered her.  

****
The floor tilted beneath him, he stumbled forward onto his knees.  Ringing filled his ears and lights swam behind his retinas.  Through the cacophony in his head he heard a woman's voice.

"Sanguis cor vanire ex corpus."  

He snapped upright, his arms extended to either side, crucified on an invisible cross.  


********



© Austin Hale 2008


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## Mahtave (Jan 7, 2008)

Welcome back Lamp!  I do hope you will continue to develop this story!


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