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Chapter Two

"Oh would you give it a rest already, Harley?" Zela pleaded, sitting on her bed in their room as Harley packed the last of their things away in two seperated dufflebags. One was an old and faded black while the other was a pale blue.

Harley just rolled her eyes and zipped up the blue bag, picking it up to place beside Zela on the bed, "I don't want to give it a rest, Zel. I don't care how nice they seem. Foster families always seem nice when you first meet them because otherwise you'd never go with them, you know?" As she spoke, she finished putting her own things in the black bag and zipped it up before slipping it onto her shoulder.

Zela sighed and grabbed the strap of her own bag before standing from the bed, "You're over-reacting. Why can't you just give them a chance, just this once?" she pleaded, finding Harley's outstretched hand after a moment and taking it, squeezing her fingers around Harley's, "Can you try being nice to them, eh, Harley?" she asked, biting down on her lower lip.

Rolling her eyes and looking down at Zela, Harley smirked, "Oh fine. I'll play nice for the time being if it means so much to you, Zel," she promised, leading Zela from the room. They were supposed to meet Kristopher and Renee downstairs in the lobby of the dorm rooms.

When the reached the main floor whatever conversation the couple had been having ceased and Renee's lips curved into that bright smile, her hands clasping in front of her, "We're ready to go now? Good. Let's get out of here then, shall we?" she said in a cheery voice, her eyes sparkling as she stepped forward to offer a hand to either of the girls.

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Mr. Grisham's car pulled into the driveway of their home, which he had playfully been referring to as the 'Grisham Manor' on the drive. It was a drive that took way too long or at least it had in Harley's humble opinion. They're so cheery, she thought several times as she sat in the back seat with Zela, the younger girl listening raptly to everything Kristopher was saying. But all Harley could do was sit silently, arms crossed over her chest, watching the man with suspicious eyes. No, cheery wasn't Harley's forte.

Now looking at the 'Grisham Manor,' Harley could see why he was calling it that. Compared to Willow Grove and the old apartment complex that she had lived in before, this place really looked like an old-time manor from some of her favorite books. It reminded her first of Tara from Gone with the Wind. It was an older house, two stories tall painted white on the outside with charcoal shutters. A wrap-around porch was what drew Harley's attention next, vines of what seemed to be white and red roses crawling over the posts that held the porch in place and bushes planted along the front. It wasn't quite as big as Tara, but that was the first plantation house that came to Harley's mind. As an after-thought, she added, Tara's much lovlier than this place though.

Renee glanced back and grinned when she saw the expression on Harley's face. It was the first time it had changed from the sullen, distant frown the enter car ride, "You like it?" she asked softly, not wanting to startle the girl.

"It's beautiful!" Harley said with a smile before stopping herself and looking over at Zela, "I'll tell you all about it later, okay, Zel?" she asked, squeezing the girl's hand and letting her smile fade from her lips, "With enough detail so that you can picture it yourself." Pausing, Harley looked to Renee and bit her lip, "Could you walk her and I around the house so she can learn it well enough to get around on her own?"

Kristopher could only smile at the consideration shown to the blind girl by the older and at the light the sparkled in his wife's eyes when Harley made the request. Renee nodded quickly, "Of course I can do that. Just grab your bags and we'll head inside, okay? You two will have to pick which of the guest rooms you want," she added before stepping out of the car, closing her door behind her to wait for Harley and Zela.

Kris got out of the car as well, walking around the car to the side where Renee stood while Harley helped Zela from the car, "I'll see you later, sweetie. I have to get to the office to work on the Redfield case," he said, softly enough to keep it out of earshot of Harley and Zela, "We'll continue our conversation when I get home tonight," he added, kissing her forehead quickly before walking around the car to get back into the driver's seat, "I'll see you tonight, girls. Hope you get settled in all right."

Watching as he drove away, Harley rolled her eyes, "Come on, Zela," she said, keeping her thoughts to herself for now. She and Zela would have a chance to talk later that night when these people finally left them alone. Zela reached for Harley's hand and Harley took it, squeezing gently.

"Right. So off we go then," Renee said brightly, though when Harley looked more closely at her, she found that the light in Renee's eyes was a little dimmer than it had been before Kris began his whispering.

Saying nothing, Harley nodded and led Zela in behind Renee, the woman chattering on about how she was going to make sure they grew to like living there and how they were going to go shopping for new clothes as soon as she finished her pieces for the exhibit. Harley wasn't entirely listening to her, more lost on her own thoughts than she should have been. She was supposed to be helping Zela. Pulling herself from her daze, Harley zoned in on what Renee was saying, arching a brow.

"Alden and Adela should be home pretty soon. I'm sure they'll be eager to meet you," Renee said as she walked, leading them through the house. As they walked, Harley found herself once more awed by the house. Everything was decorated in very soft colors. Walls of slate grey or white with lilac or steel blue. Everything was incredibly coordinated as well. Harley looked to Renee for this one as they left the sitting room, one of many rooms downstairs, "Did you decorate the house?" she asked, smiling at Renee.

The woman paused, a sad look coming into her eyes before she snapped herself out of whatever daze she'd fallen into and plastered that smile back on her face, "What? Oh no, dear. Kris's first wife, Elaine, did the decorating. I never have time for any of that. Alden and Adela were Elaine's children. So you two are my daughters," she said happily, leading them upstairs.

That's it then, Harley thought with a sigh, moving with Zela as the younger girl felt along the walls and such, learning the layout of the house. We're her children. Why doesn't she have some of her own with her adoring husband? she wondered, bitterness creeping into her thoughts, her arms folding over her chest as she watched Zela, a protective gleam once more sparking in her eyes, We'll see about that, lady. You're under my test as of now. Only you don't know it yet.

Harley smirked, coming to a stop behind Renee when they'd made it down the hallway a bit, "Well here's one of our guest rooms and the other is down the hall," she told them, smiling, turning to face the two girls.

Anything but pleased at the prospect of having Zela so far out of her reach, Harley shrugged, "I guess that's okay, but I would rather be closer to Zela," she murmured, knowing how ungrateful she sounded, but not caring.

Renee laughed and nodded, "That's absolutely adorable. I love how protective of little Zela you are. It's wonderful. You two really are like sisters," she said, clasping her hands in front of her. This little habit of hers was quickly wearing on Harley's already frail nerves, but she said nothing because of the promise she'd made earlier to Zela. Renee paused, as though thinking about something, a smile growing on her features, "Oh this is perfect. I have a project for us to do together if Kris says I can," she turned and hurried down the hall, beckoning for Zela and Harley to follow. "There's an attic to this house that Elaine never got around to. Kris and I have been meaning to do something with it. Perhaps we could turn it into a bedroom for you girls to share. What do you think of the idea?"

Zela's lips parted with a delighted gasp before she nodded, "That sounds like fun. I won't be able to help much, but I'd love to share a room with Harley," she said, sounding a bit disappointed that her eyes would once again keep her from participating in something with Harley.

Harley stepped behind her and wrapped her arms around Zela's neck in a hug, "And you know sharing a room with you isn't half bad either," she teased, smirking before leaning up and ruffling Zela's hair.

Renee nodded, clapping her hands in front of her, palms together, "It's settled then. I'll talk to Kris about tonight. For now, why don't you two put your bags in this guest room and you can sleep in there until we finish the attic room," she told them, grinning, "Hurry along now, the both of you. I'll be down in the kitchen when you're ready. I need to be down there when Alden gets home anyway or he'll eat everything in the kitchen," she laughed and hurried down the hallway towards the stairs, leaving Zela and Harley alone to get settled in.

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"Aw, Renee! You've gotta be kidding me. Both of 'em are girls?" Alden groaned, plopping into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and dropping his black bookbag by his feet, "Now I really am outnumbered around here. I knew you wanted to do me in," he added with a smirk, raking long fingers through his shaggy, chestnut brown hair, pieces of it falling into his tanned face.

At seventeen years old, Alden was a little of six feet tall with a lean build from hours spent running on the track at his high school and swimming in the pool in the back. Even though he ate everything put in front of him. His parents had always put it off to high metabolism, which worked for him. Glancing over at his sister, catching her dark green eyes with his own, he arched a brow, "Guess you'll have some new friends, eh?"

Adela rolled her eyes and sat in the chair across from him, saying nothing for the moment. Her own dark eyes were hidden partially behind thin-rimmed glasses and freckles dotted the fair skin beneath her cheeks, along the bridge of her nose and across her cheekbones. At the moment, her long chestnut hair was held back in a tight braid, tied at the ends with a ribbon as dark a green as her eyes. Looking up at him, Adela shrugged, "I suppose it's possible. But we don't know if I'll even get along with them, yet," she pointed out, biting her lower lip thoughtfully.

Renee couldn't help but smile at the two before placing sandwiches down in front of either of them, along with glasses, "You know the drill. You want soda, you get it yourself," she teased before sitting down as well, "And yes, Alden. They're both girls. And you mustn't be mean to the younger. She's got a bit of a disability, that one," Renee told him softly, not knowing quite sure how to put it.

"It's not a disability." Harley's voice came from the entry to the kitchen, Zela at her side with a small frown on her lips. Leading Zela in, Harley smiled at Renee, "Just clearing that up. I hate hearing it put like that. She may be blind, but she's just as normal as you or me. Plus she's an amazing piano player," she said, pausing and taking in the two newcomers: apparently Alden and Adela.

Squeezing Harley's hand gently, Zela shook her head and smiled, "Don't mind her, Mrs. Grishman. Sometimes she seems more sensative about it than I am," she laughed softly, unaware of Alden and Adela's presence.

Alden took in both of the girls with a wide grin, "Hey, call down the dogs, kid. Renee didn't mean anything by it," he said, smirking and then turning his eyes on Zela, "Hey kid. So you must be Zela, right?" he asked, his smirk still in place, but his voice deceivingly smooth, almost charming.

Yeah, charming enough to make my skin crawl, Harley thought with a roll of her eyes, watching as Zela furrowed her brow, listening carefully to the voice, saving it away in whatever files she had inside that head of hers. Harley was often impressed by her ability to recognize someone by voice only. She was even more surprised the first time Zela had identified her without her having to say a word.

Zela nodded once she was through with her thoughts, smiling, "Yes, my name is Zela," she told him, letting go of Harley's hand and stepping forward, "And you're Alden, right?" she asked him, tilting her head a bit to one side curiously.

"That would be me. And I suppose that darling young woman behind you is Harley?" he asked, chuckling and standing, "Hey kid. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet both of you," he said, his voice now genuinly friendly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes before looking over at his sister, "All right, Adela. I played nice, now introduce yourself, will you?"

Lifting her gaze, Adela looked from Zela to Harley, biting her lower lip nervously, "Hello. My name's Adela," she said before standing as well and offering a hesitant smile, not sure what she thought about the intimidating Harley. "It is a pleasure to meet you both," she added, folding her hands in front of her and adverting her gaze quickly.

So Adela's got the social skills of a wet blanket and her brother likes to mess with people's minds, eh? Harley thought, making her observations quickly before nodding, "You almost had me convinced I wasn't going to like you, Alden," she told him, a smirk on her lips, "But it's nice to meet the both of you as well, I guess," she said with an indifferent shrug, hands slipping into her pockets.

Zela giggled and slapped Harley's side. Alden arched a brow and laughed, looking back at a beaming Renee, "Well I'm glad you saw through my act before it was too late. I'm sure you'll love it here. Renee's great and Dad's not so bad himself," he joked before bending down to grab his bookbag and slinging it onto his shoulder, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some homework I should be doing right about now." Without another word, he grabbed his sandwich and stuck it in his mouth, walking past Harley and Zela as he left the kitchen.

Harley turned her attention away from the retreating form of Alden, looking back at Renee with one arched brow, "We put our things up in the guest room that you showed us earlier, Mrs. Grisham," she told her, forcing a quick smile to her lips so that she might attempt to hide the indifferent monotone of her voice behind it.

"Very good, sweetheart. And don't call me 'Mrs. Grisham,' please? It's Renee or Mom, if you like, but not Mrs. Grisham, okay?" she asked, her voice almost sounding like a plea to Harley which made her wince, but not as much as her request to be called 'Mom.'

Why don't you just ask me to insult you, eh? she thought with a curt not before putting a hand on Zela's shoulder and looking around, "Sure things, Renee," she said quickly, "Well if you don't mind, ma'am, Zela and I are going to go rest in our room. I'm tired and I can tell she is, too."

Nothing was said in the direction of Adela, who only stood quietly for a moment before slipping with a relieved sigh back into her chair. Nodding with a wide smile on her face, Renee shoo'ed them out of the kitchen, "All right, I know you girls need some rest after such a long drive. Go oon, but make sure you're back down here by eight for dinner. Kris should be home by then."

"Sure thing, Renee," Harley said, voice soaked with poison-laced sugar, but Renee didn't seem to notice it as she continued to smile at the girl. Zela caught it though, but before she could remark on it, Harley had caught her hand and was guiding her from the room, towards the stairs to return to the guest room where they were to sleep.

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Chapter One

Harley Quinn and Zela Anderson sat together in the room they shared at Willow Grove Foster Home. Neither of them seemed to want to speak and break the silence that had fallen over the room. They were both young, though older than they had been when they had arrived at Willow Grove.

The thirteen-year-old Harley had grown and was now sixteen years old. Her hair was the same glossy black as it always had been and now fell in smooth strands down her back. Her eyes were still that deep, dark green, but now held a cautious edge that had not been there when she was an innocent child. An innocence she'd lost after her father had sent her to the hospital with his abuse. After that, her father had been arrested for child abuse and her mother committed suicide a few weeks later because of the combination of shock over Sonya’s death and her husband being locked up. With no decent parents Harley had been shipped off to Willow Grove where she had met Zela.

Harley had once thought that the little blind girl would be nothing more than a thorn in her side, but it didn't take long after her arriving at Willow Grove for a friendship to form between the two girls.

Zela was now fourteen years old and had the same pale blonde hair she’d had as a child. She rather looked like a child still even after she’d grown. She had a frail, almost bird-like physique and fair skin. Her long hair was held back by a black headband and the strands fall to just past her shoulders, almost to mid-back in straight strands.

After a few more minutes of the silence, Harley stood from her bed and folded her arms over her chest, eyes glancing at the window, “Okay we can’t just sit here all day, you know?” she muttered, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. She glanced to Zela and winced visibly. She would never get used to Zela’s lifeless blue eyes, but unlike Zela’s mother Harley had never pushed Zela away because of her milky gaze.

“I’m sorry, Harley...I'm just getting tired of putting up with the other kids....” She murmured, folding her hands in her lap and frowning thoughtfully. Though the girl could not see from her eyes, she could hear even better than Harley could ever dream of being able to do so Zela knew exactly where Harley was at all times when they were near enough to one another, “Do you think they'll ever stop tormenting me?” she asked timidly before standing from her own bed.

Harley's eyes softened when she heard Zela's question, "Oh Zela, sweetie...if they don't leave you alone then I'm going to be the one they're going to have to deal with," she told the other girl, stepping forward to take Zela's hands and squeeze them reassuringly, "You should know that I wouldn't dream of allowing them to pick on you, Zel," she added when Zela nodded, a small smile forming on her pale lips, "And besides...picking on you would be the last thing on their minds if you'd let them hear you play the piano. Because you, my friend, are amazing."

This last part caused Zela's cheeks to heat up with a blush and her head to shake in protest, "I'm not that great, Harley. You only say I'm so good because you're trying to make me feel better," she murmured, her cheeks colored a soft, rosy pink at the praise from the other girl.

A small gasp came from Harley's lips as she feigned dismay, "Why Zela...I am hurt. I really meant that, too. You really are an amazing pianist and getting better at it all the time. The next child prodigy, I'm almost certain," she told Zela, releasing her hands before Harley hooked her arm through Zela's, "Let's go for a walk outside then. I think you and I could both use the fresh air." As she spoke, she began pulling Zela from the room with a smile tugging at her lips.

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Kristopher Grisham stood with his wife Renee on the other side of the fence. They seemed to be watching the children on the other side. By appearance, husband and wife were like night and day. To be honest, one could say they were very different in more than just appearance. Thirty-six-year-old Renee Grisham was a lovely young woman of a fair complexion, bright blue-violet eyes, and rich ebony tresses that reached down her back in a tightly-wound braid. Slender and bird-like with pieces of hair that had escaped her braid framing her face, she stood beside her tall, broad-chested husband, 'Kris.'

Kristopher kept glancing down at his wife with dark green eyes as if he was waiting for something. And he was: a reaction. He was waiting for something to tell him whether or not his wife was impressed by any of the children in the yard of the foster home. After all, they'd been standing in this exact same spot for nearly an hour. He had thought it would be a much quicker process than this.

A small gasp came from his wife at that moment and Kris looked down at her expectantly, taking in the wide grin tugging at her lips and the bright gleam in her eyes. She turned her eyes to him and clasped her hands in front of her, "They're perfect, Kris!" She told him, unclasping her hands and grabbing one of his with her own, "They seem like they're sisters already," she pointed with her free hand to two girls a few feet away from them.

The taller girl stood in front of the younger as two boys sneered, seemingly teasing the two girls. Kris and Renee were close enough that they could hear what was being said. Renee moved to release Kris's hand to go to the girls, but Kris held her in place, shaking his head. He wanted to see how this was handled. The flames dancing in the older girl's eyes had caught his interest, as had her defensive stance.

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"How many times am I going to have to tell you two idiots to leave Zela alone, hmmn?" Harley asked them, putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes into a glare at Charlie and Andrew, "Is it really so impossible for us to go for a walk without you two ruining the experience every, single time? Are the two of you really that stupid?"

A smirk spread across one of the boys' lips and his tanned arms folded over his chest, "Oh well, terribly sorry Harley. You know we don't mean to ruin it. I can't help it if Charlie has a little crush on Zela. Why don't you just let him hang around with her for a little bit? He doesn't bite that hard," as he spoke, he glanced to his friend, Charlie, and arched a brow. This elicited a wide grin from the other, shorter boy with paler skin and dark black eyes.

"Like hell I'll let him anywhere near Zela. He's a low-down, dirty little scumbag, just like you, Andrew. I don't intend to let him touch Zela, you understand?" When she said this, the beginnings of a dangerous gleam entered her eyes and a threat lay hidden behind her words as she watched the two boys. Zela shifted nervously behind Harley, reaching forward to grab hold of the older girl's jacket for something akin to comfort. She couldn't see what was going on. She could only hear.

Andrew narrowed his eyes at Harley and stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Harley. He was a good bit taller than her and as he stepped forward, he grabbed hold of her wrist with a painfully tight grip, "How do you think you're going to stop Charlie, Quinn?" His fingers tightened about Harley's small wrist and she winced, but said nothing. This only made a smirk curve at Andrew's lips, "Don't have so much to say now, do you, kid?"

An image of her father flashed across Harley's mind and her lips twisted into a frown, eyes gleaming dangerously, "Get your filthy hands off me, Andrew," she said with a voice filled to the brink with either threat or promise. When he didn't let go and she saw Charlie moving to step around her to Zela, something snapped. She yanked hard on the wrist that Andrew held. She pulled hard enough to knock him off balance, sending him falling face first to the ground. She whipped about to face Charlie, who had paused when Harley had freed herself from Andrew, "Don't make another move towards her, Charlie," she hissed, stepping between Charlie and Zela.

The sound of approaching footsteps to their right caught the attention of the four children. Zela's brow furrowed when she heard the sound and the other three looked around to see who had caught them in their exchange. It was a man and a woman, but who they were exactly was a mystery. The woman was clinging tightly to her husband's hand as they neared while the man's stern eyes were fixed on the two boys.

"What's going on here?" When he spoke, his voice was strong and sounded as though it was used to giving commands that were obeyed. He looked from Charlie to Andrew, the latter of which was climbing quickly from his feet. Andrew's cheeks were flushed a bright red from embarrassment at being thrown so easily off balance by a girl so much smaller than himself. And now it was only made worse by his being caught in the act by this strange man and his wife.

The woman released her husband's hand and rushed to stand beside Zela, her hands resting on the young girl's shoulders, "Are you okay, sweetie?" She asked quietly. Though as she spoke, her gaze studied Zela's face; more importantly her eyes.

"Harley, who is it?" Zela murmured, reaching up to touch the hands on her shoulders, looking for some sign of familiarity.

Harley stepped towards the Zela and this new woman, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, more towards the man than the woman. But when she spoke, her words were directed at Zela, "I don't know, Zela. I don't recognize them," she murmured, though it was more than just a little obvious that both the man and the woman could hear what she was saying. It appeared that she actually wanted some sort of answer from them, even if she was not actually talking to them.

Standing up straight and stepping away from Zela, the woman smiled brightly while her husband spoke, "Of course you want to know who we are. But first I think it would be a good idea if these two young men found something better to do than torment such lovely ladies as yourself. Don't you agree boys?" he asked, turning stern eyes in the direction of Charlie and Andrew with one eyebrow quirked. When they did not move right away, the man rolled his eyes and scowled, "That means it's time for you two boys to leave."

This elicited a soft smile and muffled giggling from behind Zela's hand. Even Harley had to smirk at the man. The frustration in either of the boys' eyes was only an added perk. Harley watched Charlie and Andrew leave, grumbling under their breath as they walked side by side. Once they were gone, her attention was once more on this man and his woman, Harley's eyes narrowing, "Alright, they're gone. Now who are you?" she demanded, her lack of trust evident in her tone. She relaxed a bit when Zela found her hand and squeezed gently, a sign that Harley need to be quiet for a minute and let the people talk.

The man smiled and shook his head, chuckling at the girl in front of him, "My name is Kristopher Grisham and this is my wife, Renee. We were observing the other children out here earlier, but when Renee saw those two boys picking on you, she thought it best if she rushed me over here to say something to them. So are both of you okay?" he asked, eyes studying Zela's face with keen eyes.

Harley narrowed her eyes at him, a defensive gleam entering her eyes at the way he was staring so closely at Zela's eyes, "Yeah, we're fine now. Thanks for your help, sir," she muttered, placing one hand on her hip and rolling eyes, "And yes, she can't see. She's blind. Would you stop staring at her already?" Her tone was not kind. It had taken on a rather protect edge as she spoke, standing close to Zela's side. She hated it when people thought it necessary to stare at Zela like she were a broken china doll just because she couldn't see. She hadn't asked for it and it didn't make her any less of a person.

Renee gasped softly and clasped her hands in front of her before looking to her husband with brows raised. But Kristopher only chuckled and held his hands up in front of him in defeat, palms out, "I'm terribly sorry about that. I didn't mean to offend you. I was simply curious," he said before stepping forward and putting one of his strong hands on Zela's shoulder, "I hope you'll accept my apology, little miss. Might I ask what your names are?"

Harley rolled her eyes and looked away, but Zela's pale lips curved into a warm smile, "My name is Zela Anderson and this is my older sister, Harley Quinn," she told them, "She's not really my sister, but she might as well be," she added quickly, knowing the reactions she got when she told people this. When she'd asked Harley about it, Harley had explained that they didn't looked enough alike to be sisters so people asked questions.

Renee seemed pleased with the answer and her eyes slid to look at her husband, "Can I talk to you a moment, Kris," she asked him as she took his hand and smiled softly, "You girls wait just a moment, okay?" she added after Kristopher nodded. Without waiting for an answer, Renee pulled Kris to the side, out of hearing range of the two girls, "What do you think, Kris? Zela's adorable and she's so close to Harley," she told him, her voice low just in case the two girls were still able to hear them.

Kristopher sighed and looked back over at the girls before nodding, "She is a sweet girl and I'm sure Harley's not half bad either. I thought agreed that we were only going to adopt one child today, though," he reminded her, a soft smile forming on his lips, "But if that's what you want, it's done," he added, placing a kiss on her forehead, "You go talk to the girls a bit more while I go talk to whoever's running this place."

Renee nodded and watched Kris go before turning back to the girls, a warm smile on her face, but when she looked at Harley, she took in the discontent, if not a bit uneasy, way the girl was watching Kristopher go. It was as if Harley wanted him gone, but Renee didn't know why. Did Kris say something wrong? she wondered, walking back over to the girls and arching a brow, "How about we walk around a bit? I wanted to talk to the two of you about something rather important," she said, taking Zela's hand gently in her own and putting her other hand lightly on Harley's tensed shoulder.

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Prologue

I'll be that girl with the hair in her face
On the back of the bus who just looks out of place....

The muffled vibrating of the cell phone sitting peacefully on the couch in the Quinn's apartment was accompanied by strains from Emiko's 'That Girl'. All else was silent and thirteen-year-old Harley Quinn was quick to sprint out of her bedroom to answer it, flipping it open before the noise could wake her mother and father. That was the last thing Harley wanted to happen. Both of her parents had gotten in late the night before and both had been more than a little drunk. Harley didn't want them woken up any earlier than they had to be because she was sure when they did wake, things were sure to turn bad.

When she looked at the caller ID, she didn't recognize the number. "Yes, who is this?" she spoke softly into the phone, chocolate brown eyes glancing nervously at the door to her parents bedroom. A sigh of relief escaped her at the lack of movement. They were still asleep.

"This is the hospital. We're looking for the parents of Sonya Quinn." It was a man's voice who sounded like he was at least in his early forties; maybe older. But his age wasn't all that important at the moment. Sonya was in the hospital? Why was Sonya in the hospital? Sonya never got into any trouble. There was a pause on the other end of the phone and Harley could hear movement and voices behind the man before he spoke one more, "Are your parents home, sweetheart?" he asked her.

Harley sent a nervous glance in the direction of her parents' bedroom. Waking them up, even for a call from the hospital dealing with their darling Sonya, would be disastrous for little Harley. They wouldn't be happy with her, not at all. So instead of going to rouse them, she shook her head, "No sir...sorry. My parents are out right now. What's wrong with Sonnie?" she asked, worry lacing her every word. As much as she hated to admit it, she was rather fond of her older sister.

There was another silence at the other end of the phone. This guy was going to drive her insane if he kept these long pauses of his up for much longer. Harley tightened her grip on the phone and leaned against the arm of the couch, every now and then glancing warily at the door to her parents' bedroom. Finally, the man spoke up, breaking the silence, "Well Sonya's been...she's been shot. There was a call about an hour ago reporting a gun shot and when we found her identification this was the only number written in her book."

Harley blinked, unable to form coherent thoughts, Sonya's...shot...dead? was all that came out when she tried. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head, "Look...this is Harley. Her sister. Is my sister dead or what?" she asked, already tired of his games. She wanted to know what was going on and she didn't want to have to wait through his silences and pauses to get the information she wanted.

But she seemed to be in for at least one more. After a moment, the man (supposedly a doctor at the local hospital) spoke once more, "Alright Harley...there is some terrible news. Sonya was shot in the back of the head. There was no way she would have survived --" Harley never heard him finish.

The phone slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor with a soft, barely audible -thud-. A mix of emotions churned in her stomach as she looked from the floor where the phone lay to the still-closed bedroom door behind which her parents slept. Fear for herself when her parents awoke and found out what had happened, a sense of loss that came with any death, the need to cry until she couldn't anymore, and a desperation to get away before her parents found out about Sonya's death...created a tightly-wound ball in the pit of her stomach.

She did not know exactly what she was doing as she raced into her room and yanked open the top drawer of her bedside table. From this she pulled a small, black velvet pouch with a silver drawstring. Inside was all the money she'd saved over the past few years without her parents' knowledge. She stuffed this into the pocket of her jeans and then slipped once more from her bedroom. All she could feel past the numbness that was slowly taking over all of the other emotions was the urge to run and to keep running until she collapsed.

Looking once more at her parents' bedroom door, she could heard muffled noises inside: the sounds of her mother and her father rousing from their sleep. She had to go -- now. Without another thought, Harley ran forward and raced out of the apartment, stopping only to rip open the front door that was blocking her escape. She didn't stop when she heard the door to her parents' bedroom slam against the wall behind it as it was pulled violently opened and she did not stop when her father bellowed for her to get back in the house. She couldn't stop.

But it was obvious that he didn't intend for her to leave. She heard his footsteps pounding on the ground behind her. His longer legs made it so Harley was no match for him nor could she out-run him; he caught her before she reached the stairs to the ground floor.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her along behind him back towards the house. His voice was thickened with fury and Harley whimpered, knowing she'd done the worst thing she could possibly do: anger her hung-over father.

When they got back to their apartment, Harley's mother was also out of the bedroom. She'd collapsed onto the couch in what could almost be described as hysterical cries. Her fragile shoulders were trembling and her pale face was hidden in the palms of her hands. Tears were leaking through the spaces in between her fingers and sliding down her wrists as she sobbed into her hands. The phone lay in her lap. And there was no longer any docter on the other end of it to save Harley from the anger obvious in her father's every movement.

The sight of his wife crying seemed to only increase the man's anger, "What're you making such a racket over, Christina?" he growled, slamming the door closed behind him and shoving Harley into the room. She stumbled at his force, but caught herself before she fell.

Christina Quinn looked up at her husband with her eyes already red and swollen, "The...the hospital...they just called. It was on the floor when I came in here and I heard a voice.... It was a doctor. He was a nice man...really...but he said that Sonya's been...she's been shot...shot through the head. She's dead, Allen...Sonya's dead...."

Allen's eyes widened and his hands balled into fists, "Our little girl's dead...." he mumbled, looking wildly around the room, his grief already beginning to show. When his gaze fell on Harley, his lips twisted into a scowl, "Why'd they have to shoot Sonnie...what did she ever do? She wasn't some sorry little low-life like you...." He advanced towards Harley as she backed away from him. When her back hit the wall, she had no where to go, Allen's hands came down on her shoulders and his fingers clung tightly to her, the nails digging into her skin painfully.

Harley said nothing. What could she say? She simply closed her eyes, her shoulders tensing, Sonya's not here anymore.... I have no one to protect me from Daddy now, Harley thought while a sob began to form in her throat and her fear spread through her mind, No one's going to stop Daddy this time...he's really going to kill me and there's nothing I can do about it....

Taking one hand from Harley's shoulder, Allen backhanded her fiercely across the face, eliciting a cry of pain. His anger was building and Harley was right, there was no one around to stop him this time. Harley opened her eyes and looked to her mother, silently pleading for her help, but Christina simply sat there with vacant eyes.

"Sonya shouldn't have died. She saved your sorry ass plenty of times kid, but I'm done. You're not even my kid. Your whore of a mother went off and slept with another man after Sonya was born. You're not even mine, but I kept you around all these years because your sister was so damned fond of you. She's not here anymore, though...." He tossed Harley aside so that she stumbled and lost her balance, falling to the floor with another pained cry, landing on her arm and sending a painful jolt through her body. She was sure he'd broken it.

Allen turned on his heel and disappeared into his bedroom. For a few moments, Harley struggled to a sitting position, clutching at her wounded arm and blinking away the tears in her eyes. I'm going to die, she thought, pushing herself to her feet. She didn't know where Allen had went, but she didn't care. He would be back and she had to get out of there. The information he'd just given her would have to wait until later to sink in...if she wasn't his child then her mother really had slept with another man.

Harley could hear Allen pushing things aside in the closet in his room, searching for something. Now was her only chance. She shook her head and moved quietly towards the door, glad her mother was still too dazed to notice the movement of her daughter. Harley had her hand on the door knob and was slowly pulling it open when Allen came out of his room with a thick, leather belt in his hand.

"I don't think so, you little whore," he growled when he saw Harley throw open the door, "You're not going anywhere. You're going to pay me back for all the money I've spent taking care of you all of these years and you're going to make up for your mom sleeping around on me, too." He darted forward and grabbed the door, blocking her way.

Harley let out a piercing scream, hoping her neighbors would hear it. Angered by her scream, Allen grabbed her wounded arm and tossed her once more to the floor, bringing another pain-ridden cry out. He'd tugged on it and made the break worse. Now it was pulsing painfully. But he didn't care. As she lay on the floor, Allen brought the belt back and hit her as hard as he could, the strap hitting her bare arm with a sickening crack.

Her only reaction was another scream, and that only earned her another hit across the stomach. After a few, Harley lost count, the pain the only thing she was aware of. Her entire body was throbbing from the abuse. It seemed as if there wasn't a spot on her body he hadn't hit and she could feel a warm, sticky substance seeping over her skin and soaking her clothing in several places. She couldn't take anymore. It was simpler to just let him achieve what he wanted. Tears still in her eyes and her breathing ragged, Harley closed her eyes, falling into the darkness of unconscious slumber.

----------------------------

Harley sat in the passenger seat of this strange woman's car, her small fists resting in her lap and her eyes burning with a look of utter hatred as she looked upon the apartment building where she had lived for thirteen years of her life. A black dufflebag rested beside her on the seat and a loose black jacket clothed her upper half. She was waiting now for that woman, Miss Whistler, to return to the car so they could leave this place. She was ready to leave it behind.

Miss Whistler approached the car a few moments later, a clipboard in hand. Opening the driver's side door and slipping in before closing the door behind her, she offered Harley a sympathetic smile, "I'm very sorry about your mother, Harley, dear," she said, stuffing the clipboard into the space between her seat and the door.

Harley did not answer her, but instead crossed her arms over her chest and turned her gaze to stare out the window, looking to the opposite side of the street and away from the apartment building, Why are you sorry? The woman watched Allen as he came so close to killing me while she sat there in some kind of stupid state of shock over Sonya. And then she did herself in because Allen got locked up for it. She was dead to me long before she finished the job, Harley thought, but figured it best to keep all this to herself.

As she thought about this, the memory of the day Sonya had died. The stitches itched under her left ear that were used to close the wound Allen had created when he'd kicked her in the head and she still had various bruises that were slowly fading with time. It had only been a couple of weeks since that had happened after all.

Another sympathetic glance was Miss Whistler's only answer to the silence as she started the car, "All right. Well next stop is Willow Grove. There's a girl a little younger than your age, I believe, who will be sharing a room at the Grove with you. I'm sure they two of you will get along. The only thing you should know is that she's," Miss Whistler paused for a moment, hands tightening on the wheel, "Zela can't see," she finished with a sigh full of pity.

Harley's eyes flew to look at Miss Whistler, "She's blind? Has she always been blind?" Harley asked, biting her lower lip in thought, now interested in what the woman was saying.

Miss Whistler shook her head, glad to have gotten some sort of reaction from the young woman beside her, "Oh no, not always. It's just been recently, but her mother didn't want her. It's rather sad, really. The woman said that Zela was too much trouble to keep an eye on and the special schools she'd have to go through apparently weren't worth it to the mother. Little Zela's a beautiful pianist, though. Even with her disability, she plays wonderfully."

Harley nodded, turning her gaze away from Miss Whistler once more, Well, a blind girl is my roommate at this place then? And she's younger than me. It doesn't get any better than this, Harley thought sarcastically.

-----------------------------

Anticipation hung thick over the grounds of Thorten High School as the last ten minutes of the school year ticked slowly by. Even the teachers were restless in their classrooms, some even more so than the students. It had been a long, successful year at this particular academic institution. Students and teachers alike were ready for their well-earned break from the dull days of school routine.

When the chimes went off, it seemed a dam had broken. Torrents of students flooded the hallways, all heading for the entrances of the school, ready to get out and back into the real world once again. Boys pushed one another, joking and laughing together while girls giggled at how silly they were acting.

"How stupid," Nyria Banks smirked as she walked towards the back of the school with her friend, Taline Blacke, "Can't they just act like they have two ounces of sense in them? I don't care if it is the last day of school."

Quite a pair these two made. Nyria had long, dark brown hair pulled up in a ponytail on the side of her head with two golden highlights hanging down on either side of her creamy-skinned face. Eyes the color rich mahogany were set beneath dark, arched brows. On her slender form, she wore a beige tank-top that hugged her upper half and baggy chocolate brown cargo pants that hung down over the tops of her brown and white converse sneakers.

Taline, however, had sleek strands of glossy black hair that were cut off just below her chin, a few strands that may have been her bangs hanging over her face, a stark contrast to her milky complexion. Her hunter green eyes were lined with dark khol with lavender shadow on her lids, the only color on her face other than a pale pink gloss on her lips. She wore a tight lavender tank-top that reached an inch or so above her pierced belly button and a blac denim skirt that fell just above her knees. On her feet, she wore a pair of black converse much like her friend's, only Taline's were half unlaced.

"Would you lighten up, Ri?" Taline asked, a grin on her face and a teasing note in her voice, "It's all in good fun, even if they do look like a bunch of idiots."

Nyria smiled at her friend as they reached the rear exit and stepped out into the warmth of the day, so close to the end of spring and the beginning of summer. Taline made a face, something akin to displeasure, when the rays of the sun warmed her skin, but this only mad Nyria laugh and shake her head, "It doesn't bite, Taline," she said with a grin spreading over her face, "Maybe you'll actually come swimming with me this summer?"

Taline made a sound a lot like a snort and rolled her eyes, "I wouldn't get your hopes up too high on that one, my dear friend," she purred, walking away from the school and towards the parking lot. At sixteen, Taline was six months ahead of Nyria, who was still fifteen, though she would be sixteen over the summer. Being sixteen, Taline had her liscense. She'd had it for a couple of months now, but it taken her almost three weeks to convince Nyria that she didn't mind driving the extra five minutes to take her home.

"Oh fine! Why must you be so stubborn all the time?" Nyria pursed her lips into an impersonation of a petulant child who's not gotten her way. From Taline's point of view, Nyria was doing a very good job of it. With her soft, doll-like features, it wasn't heard for Nyria to appear as gentle and innocent as a child whenever she pleased or as mishevious; whatever the ocassion might be. Taline envied her friend for this. Her mother was always teasing her about how her own facial features and her voice were more sultry. Supposedly, one of these days she was going to be the breaker of many hearts everywhere.

She was still waiting for that day to come.

Stopping beside her car, Taline shrugged, "I can't help it, you know? Being god-awful stubborn is something that runs in my family," she joked, reaching into the pocket of her shoulderbag and pulling out her keyring, "Besides, if I weren't so stubborn, I wouldn't be the Taline you love so much, now would I?" This being said, she unlocked the doors to the old white mustang and climbed in, starting the car's engine while she waited for her now-grinning friend to get in the car as well.

~❥♥~❥♥~
Chapter Two
~❥♥~❥♥~

“Michael...what was all that commotion this morning?”

A groan was Michael’s only response at first. It was his father, and it seemed that he and Gabriella had, in fact, roused their father from his sleep that morning with their bickering. Now, Michael sat at the table in the kitchen with his elbows resting on the polished wooden surface of the table and a frown on his lips. Turning his dark eyes to his father, he managed a sheepish smile, “Sorry, Dad. We didn’t mean to wake you. Gabbi was just being stubborn, again.”

Monty Leardone nodded at his son, pulling the chair out opposite Michael and sitting down, his own black eyes catching on Michael’s, “Well, then, I guess I can forgive you. I would have done the same thing. Why are you still here, though, son?” He asked, tilting his head to one side in a questioning gesture, “Don’t you normally head out for a run after Gabriella leaves?”

With a sigh, Michael nodded, “Yes, I do, and I am.... I guess I sort of forgot about it, though. She’s getting more and more difficult, and some of the stuff we argue about doesn’t even really matter. She just wants to pick a fight.” Pushing his chair back, Michael stood and raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face, “But, it doesn’t matter. She’ll grow out of it and be better for it, I’m sure. I’ll see you this afternoon, Dad.”

The two men exchanged smiles, the younger in his early twenties, while the elder was nearing fifty years old. Michael turned from his father, heading out from the kitchen and up the stairs to his left. His thoughts shifted from his sister, to his father. He was getting older. That much was obvious. Soon he would be old enough to retire and Michael getting a job would be even more of an importance, as well as Gabriella. She’d have to take some sort of responsibility. She would do it, too, or Michael would wring her neck with his bare hands.

His thoughts faded as he changed into a tight black t-shirt that clung to his broad chest, shoulders, and the muscles on his upper arms, the material tight over his stomach, toned from years of strenuous exercise and strict self-discipline. Loose, faded denim shorts that reached just past his knees were pulled over his long legs to his waist, and black tennis shoes put onto his feet. With his dark olive skin, dark eyes, dark hair, and dark clothing he seemed a mysterious enigma to behold.

Stretching his arms out before him for a moment, Michael grinned. Running was one of his favorite things to do, no matter how odd that might have made him. It cleared his mind of most everything, letting him relax even as he pushed his body.

“I’m leaving, Dad!” He called out, leaving his room and jogging down the stairs to the living room. He could hear the running water from his father’s room. The man must be getting ready to go to work. Thinking it better to simply leave him be, Michael shrugged and headed on outside, his grin widening at the chill breeze. It was cool and thinking back on what Gabriella had worn that morning, he was sure she’d be complaining of the cold that afternoon.

‘It’s her own fault for never checking the weather before getting all dressed up.’ He thought, chuckling softly before taking off in a jog down the sidewalk, the opposite direction of the highway, towards the woods that began at the end of his road, Jelevard Drive. He preferred the woods to running on the street. There was a path that cut through the trees and led to the a park on the other side, a pond in the center of the park. Plus, the woods were quieter, and he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of getting hit by someone with less driving skills than his sister.

~❥♥~❥♥~

A soft humming came from a young woman as she walked, or rather floated, through the woods, hands folded behind her back and a small smile on her lips, full and pink. Soft grey green eyes, flecks of silver in their milky midst, swept from the flowers on the ground to the branches of the trees and then over the great expanse of the sky above her, all the while that smile remaining on her lips. Strands of white-blonde hair, smooth as spun silk, tumbled down her back to curl at the ends, ends that reached to her knees. She was small, with a bird-like figure. Small shoulders, long slender legs, slender throat, and supple chest. She seemed almost fragile, as though too much pressure would snap her in two or perhaps crush her flat.

The humming continued as the young woman moved along, the breeze rustling the leaves of the trees, as well as picking up the strands of her hair. As she moved she caught the sound of something moving in the bushes to her left but thought nothing of it. After all, it was probably just one of the many animals that made their home in the forests.

“My, my, my...a sweet little Aritae all on her own....” The voice was low, resembling the growling of some great beast. It came from the bushes, and was accompanied by a tall man, almost a foot taller than her own five foot six, maybe a little less. His wild ebon grey hair fell about his face in tangled strands; green eyes clouded with hunger. “You’ll make a nice little gift to Lord Serpens, I’m sure....” He hissed, stepping from the bushes and into her path.

The girl let out a frightened gasp, stepping back when he moved in front of her, her eyes widening, “Leave me alone....” She pleaded, before closing her panicked eyes and taking a deep breath. A moment later a shimmering light enveloped her, her form shifting and reshaping itself into that of a small, tiger cub, with fur as soft and white as the snow that covered the ground in the winter. Such fur was lined with strips of a chocolate brown in intricate patterns.

“So now I know your true form. It’s a quite puny one at that....” The man laughed as the creature let out a small, kitten’s growl and pawed at the ground. When she saw he was not frightened away, the cub turned quickly and ran, her small legs pumping as quickly as she could manage. This only made the man laugh harder, “Ah, little kitten....” He murmured, taking a few quick steps forward and bending at the waist to scoop the struggling tiger cub into his arms, “You will please Lord Serpens greatly, I am sure.”

Twigs snapped on the path behind them, and the man turned quickly to see what had caused the disturbance. A wave of pure magic rolled over him, making him shudder and hiss as if wounded. “Magiae....” He growled, shoulders tensing and eye teeth sharpening into lethal fangs, dripping with an acidic poison, while his black-stained fingernails slowly lengthened and sharpened. The animal in his grasp began fighting even more desperately to escape this frightening transformation.

“Quiet down, little one.” He hissed, setting her under a tree and murmuring a quick incantation. A second later, she was frozen still, paralysis locking her limbs so that she could not run from him while he was distracted.

A moment later, Michael appeared on the path before the man, coming to a stop. Their gazes locked onto one another, hatred electrifying the air between them. At the waves of dark magic pouring off the Nyfedir, Michael growled softly, “Filthy vermin....” He said softly, gaze shifting for a second to the tiger cub, brows arching, then eyes looking once more to the unkempt man, “You won’t be making that one your meal today, sorry to say.”

This infuriated the Nyfedir, and his eyes flashed the red of dried blood, “Keep to your own business, boy. You have no say in this.” He hissed, snake-like tongue slipping from behind chapped lips before once more retreating inside his mouth.

“Disgusting creature...have you never heard of a bath?” Michael asked him, his voice every bit as taunting as his words. He stood, hands on his hips, surveying the other man. This man with his tangled hair and dirt-streaked face had obviously never touched a bath in his life. “You need some serious soap and water.” Michael seemed to be thinking aloud, one hand reaching up to tap at his chin, “Here...let me help you.” At this, a smirk played on his lips, an electric current flowing around him, “Catarhactes....”

As this word passed his lips, he lifted his hands in front of him. Less than a second after the word had passed his lips, a shot of water blasted from the palms of his hands, aimed with as much pressure as water from a fireman’s hose. The torrent of water hit the Nyfedir straight in his chest, knocking him backwards down the path, into the air, and to the ground so that he landed on his stomach.

“Child, you have mad a mistake....” The monstrous man growled, a great guttural sound from the pit of his stomach laced with venom and malice. He pushed himself to his feet dripping wet and with wounds open on his arms from where he’d landed on the rocky path of the forest. Anger twisted and contorted his facial features, fangs barred and fingers flexing, his tough, claw-like nails almost digging into the palms of his hands in his anger. “I will kill you for that move, boy.”

He lifted his own hands before him, closing his eyes, opening his mouth in a great shriek, so loud that the tiger cowered, though she could not move, a whimper forming in her throat. The scream was held out, ripping through Michael’s mind as if it were inside his head instead of out. Pain shot through his head from his neck to his forehead. He raised his hands, pressing them hard over his ears, gritting his teeth against the noise.

The monster had Michael exactly where he wished to have him. Hissing quietly his next few words, “Ferrum de coelum!” And with this, the air shifted and blades made of air seemed to shoot from the Nyfedir. The blades cut and sliced Michael’s upper arms, blood pouring over his dark skin. It trailed down over his forearms as he dropped his hands from his head, droplets dripping from his hands to the ground.

Pain in his head and pain in his arms. All of this meant little compared to the anger burning in Michael’s eyes, darkening to pure blackness as he narrowed his gaze at the creature, a growl in his chest, “You have horrible aim....” He murmured, a dangerous tone to his low voice. Closing his eyes, he summoned his strength. A quick incantation was all that was needed,

“Aeternus quiesco....”

And the creature’s eyes rolled back into his head, a strangled gasp coming from his throat, before he crumpled to his knees, falling forward onto the ground.

He was not dead. He was simply asleep, and asleep he would remain until someone of power could figure out the incantation to wake him. Michael shook his head, walking towards the tiger,

“Absolvere....” Was all he said, a simple spell to release her from her paralysis, “You are safe now, little one.” He told her softly, meant to reassure her.

As he spoke a shimmering light came off the tiger cub and slowly she once more took on the shape of a young woman, eyes wide with fear and shoulders trembling. When this was done, she fell to her knees in front of Michael, taking his hand in both of hers and kissing the top of his hand, then pressing her forehead to the place she had kissed.

“Oh, thank you, sir....” She murmured, the astonished Michael looking down at this young woman clinging so tightly to his hand. Even her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Taking her gently by either of her wrists, he lifted her easily to her feet, moving his hands to rest on either of her shoulders. He had to look down at her because of her small stature but he hooked a finger under her chin, lifting it so he could see her face. Tears of fear and gratitude coursed over the fair-skin of her cheeks, salty drops spilling from her pale eyes. When she had kissed his hand, the blood on his fingers had left a crimson splotch on her pale chin, a stark contrast to the porcelain surface.

He moved the hand he’d used to lift her chin back to her shoulder so that both of his hands rested on either side of her neck, feeling as though her shoulders might break beneath his touch. As he looked at her, he ignored the dull throbbing his wounds were giving off at the moment, the blood no longer flowing so freely.

“Do not thank me....” He said with a smile, “I did what anyone would have done for a little lost cub attacked by one of those fiends. I assure you.” He studied her face with eyes narrowed in concentration, “You are not hurt, are you?” He asked her, arching a brow slightly in question with concern seeping into his voice.

She looked up at him, a smile lighting her face, “Yes, I am okay. Thanks to you.” She murmured, looking away, turning her head to the side for a moment. Chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip, she turned back to him, “Are you a...a Nyfedir, too?” She asked him, eyes flicking over his face, as if looking for the tale-tell marks of any Nyfedir, but he knew she’d find none. And by the blood on his arms, she knew he was not. But she had to ask.

“No...I am not. My name is Michael Leardone, and I am a Magiae. I am not one of those low-life Nyfedir.” He murmured, reassuring her with his words and his voice, hands squeezing her shoulders gently, Michael was still scared he might break her. “Now that you know my name, might I know your’s as well?”

Her cheeks colored a deep pink instantly, a shocking contrast to her fair skin. This made Michael’s smile widen and a chuckle to come from his throat. His chuckling only made her blush even more deeply, “My name?” She murmured thoughtfully, before nodding, “I am Aerythe Sheltaen.” She told him with a proud smile, shoulders straightening beneath his hands, “I am an Aritae. I live here, in these woods.”

“Well, Miss Aerythe...it is a pleasure to meet you.” He told her, removing his hands from her shoulders and taking a step back from her. As he did, he took her hand in his and kissed the back of her hand. It was a rather old-fashioned gesture, but it made her blush anyway, “Cool that charming blush, all right? Not that it isn’t adorable, but....” He shrugged, trailing off at this point. Then he lightly squeezed her hand for a moment before releasing it.

The two exchanged one last smile, before Michael’s lips turned to a thoughtful frown, “Well, then...if you live in these woods...have you ever seen the city?” He asked her curiously, tilting his head to one side in a inquisitive movement. When she shook her head, his frown moved to a grin, “You have missed out, then. Won’t you allow me to introduce you to the city?” He asked her, excitement leaking into his voice.

His excitement seemed contagious, for a moment later Aerythe was smiling, too, eyes gleaming, “I would love that! I have always wanted to see the city, but have always been too frightened to venture there myself.” She told him, coloring at her blunt admission to this man she had only just met.

“Again with that blushing.” He laughed, taking Aerythe’s hand in his, “Come along then. I’ll show you the city. We’ll just go back to my house and get these blasted wounds cleaned up and I’ll grab a clean shirt. Then it’s off to town with us. I bet you’ve never even been in a car before, either.” He teased her, smirking lightly when the girl shook her head. “Today is a day of first for you then, my lady Aerythe.” He told her with a laugh, this too becoming contagious. The sound was light and lovely coming from Aerythe’s lips.

~❥♥~❥♥~
Chapter One
~❥♥~❥♥~

Karmin Mason sat on her bed in her room, a slight breeze unsettling the papers spread on her desk, settled against the wall to her right. But she didn't seem to take any notice of the movement, or the gentle sway of her lavender curtains on either side of her window, the curtains reaching to the carpet. The carpet was a shade of violet a bit darker than the curtains. Her attention seemed focused fully on the cards that were spread on her bed, the book laying open at her side.

The cards were beautifully decorated with different pictures, symbols, and serpentine writing. Cards labeled things such as The Hanged Man and Temperance spread out before her on the bed. Though these names, their pictures, meant little to her. The meant nothing really. She had no idea what any of them meant, though she longed desperately to know. So, she glanced back to the book at her side, strands of her long, chestnut hair falling about her fair-skinned face, over her small shoulders, and in front of her thin-framed glasses.

Sighing in frustration, she took the book in her hand and closed it, tossing it across the room with an angry cry, softened by the girl biting hard down on her lower lip. It was almost midnight. She'd rather not risk waking her parents with her cries. But, she'd been at this for nearly two hours, ever since she had finished her homework at ten o'clock. And, still there was nothing. She was no farther in knowing what any of the cards meant; no closer to being able to read them. And, she so longed to be able to do just that; to read the fortunes of others through the magic of the Tarot cards introduced to her by the traveling gypsy woman at the fair a month previous.

Of course, she had been forced to hide the cards from her parents ever since she'd bought them and the instruction book in a local bookstore. Her parents would never approve, or allow, such things present in their house. They would throw them into the hearth; Karmin was sure of it. And, she couldn't let that happen. Not before she had even learned to read them, not until she unlocked their secret, so deeply buried. This seemed to be coming to her rather slowly, though, if at all. Every time she worked with them, she got nothing. And every time she got nothing she grew angry.

"Why can't I do this . . . ?" She murmured, closing her dark hazel eyes, taking deep breaths, hands reaching up to clutch the sides of her head. Fingers tangled themselves in her long hair, stick straight as it always was. This gave her the image of a madwoman. But she was not. She was simply frustrated; close to being beaten. And beaten by what? She could not seem to master this deck of cards, no matter how hard she would try.

Her muscles ached, but she pushed this to the back of her mind, recognizing the pains only with a dull awareness. She wasn't surprised. After all, muscles tended to ache when one did not sleep more than three hours a night before waking and going off to school for almost seven hours. Made to sit through seven hours of dull, torturous classes, which did her absolutely no good; classes that she was failing miserably. Her grades were suffering badly because of her lack of sleep. Even the work she did do was splattered with mistakes, though most of the time she simply didn't bother with it. Her mind always seemed to be elsewhere.

"Karmin...are you still up?"

It was her mother. She must have heard the book hit the wall.

'Dammit....' Was her only thought before she gathered the cards quickly into a pile once more, dashing off of the bed to grab the book. She could hear the door to her parents' bedroom creaking open, her mother's shuffling footsteps making their way down the hallway. Panic flooded Karmin's mind as she wrapped all of it - the book and the cards - into the silky purple cloth, before shoving it into her closet, on the shelf built into the back, behind all of her clothes.

"Karmin, sweetheart. You have school in the morning...."

Her mother was outside the door, now, her hand on the doorknob. In a second, she had pushed open the door, standing just outside the room, peering in at her daughter. Karmin seemed the picture of innocence, sitting on the edge of the bed with a textbook in her lap, though her cheeks were a little flushed. When her mother entered, Karmin looked up, smiling as innocently as she could muster, her breath still quick.

"I'm sorry, Momma. I guess time got away from me. I was studying for..." She trailed off, glancing quickly down at the book in her lap, "For a test I have tomorrow in my French class. It's a rather difficult lesson. I'm sorry. I'll get to bed right away. I promise."

Closing the book and dropping it to the floor, she stood and stretched her arms above her head, a yawn coming from her parted lips. She really was tired and a few hours of sleep before school in the morning would surely do her good. Her smile still in place, she wrapped her arms around her mother's neck for a moment, before kissing her cheek and bidding her goodnight. This seemed to satisfy the woman for she smiled and nodded, returning her daughter's embrace before turning and leaving the room to return to her own.

Watching her go, Karmin shook her head, "Yes, goodnight, Mother...." She murmured, biting back another yawn. Then closing the door, she turned and fell onto her bed, lying on her stomach. She didn't even bother exerting the energy to change clothes. She simply closed her eyes, hugged her pillow to her front, and fell asleep, curled into a ball with her hands in loose fists against the pillow's dark blue case.

~❥♥~❥♥~

“Oh...shove off, will you, Michael? I did not ask you for your opinion, and I promise you...if I wanted it, I would ask for it.”

Two siblings at war, as they normally were, Michael and Gabriella Leardone glared at one another. Neither was willing to be the first to back down from the argument at hand. This was how it always was. Michael trying to boss her around and blowing everything out of proportion, eventually creating a huge scene about absolutely nothing. This time it was about the black nail polish on her long, manicured fingernails.

“That’s just ridiculous, Gabbi. Go on upstairs and get it off before you go to school.” Michael was speaking through clenched teeth, dark brown eyes glinting. It was obvious he was angry and this only fueled Gabriella, urging her onward.

She looked down, her own eyes a deep violet in color, so different from her brother’s dark eyes that were so dark that if looked at in the wrong lighting they would appear ebony, “I don’t know, big brother. I sort of like it.” She purred, a smirk playing on her lips, pale and full beneath her burgundy gloss. “Why should I change it for you, hmm?” She was taunting him. It was obvious. She didn’t care. She was enjoying herself, really.

And Michael was growing angrier by the minute. Raking his long fingers through his mop of curly black hair. His hair fell about his face and reached to his chin, curling even more at the nape of his neck. His eyes flashed, or appeared to do so, as he narrowed them at his sister, frowning, “I said get rid of it, Gabriella. It doesn’t do you justice. I expect it off by this afternoon.” He growled, tossing her car keys in her general direction, before turning and storming back into the living room of their home.

With all that yelling, Gabriella was sure they’d wrenched their father from his sleep, and he was sure to be ill. With this thought in mind, she caught her keys easily enough and turned to grabb her backpack, slinging this onto her back, “Yeah, sure thing, Michael....” She called over her shoulder, pulling open the door and hurrying out into the crisp air of the autumn morning, a grin on her face. When she was safely outside with the door closed behind her, she murmured, “I win....” A rather childish proclamation, really, but her thoughts all the same.

Not another thought did she spare to the argument as she hurried down the porch steps and down the walk to her car parked at the curb in front of their home. It was rather chilly and the cold was not helped by her denim skirt that reached only to mid-thigh with her fishnet hose clinging to her long legs and disappearing into the tops of her knee high boots of soft leather with their spiked heels. Nor was it helped by the black tank-top she wore, with sleeves about an inch wide, a shirt of the same fishnet material worn beneath. It peaked out of the collar of her tank-top around her neck, and fell down over her arms, out from under the straps of the tank-top. All in all, not an outfit for the weather but it was what she’d pulled out of the closet that morning. As if she ever actually dressed according to the weather, or the occasion, for that matter.

Checking the watch around her small left wrist, a low string of curses escaped her parted lips, “No way. Thanks a lot, Michael. I’m so going to be late, now.” She muttered, wrenching open the door on the driver’s side of her gleaming black ‘97 Taurus, a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday the month before. Tossing her backpack into the passenger seat while at the same time leaping into the car, she slammed the door shut. Shoving her keys into the ignition of the car and starting it immediately, she glared with burning eyes at the house.

Anger flushed her olive-skinned cheeks, her own inky black hair falling about her face and down over her shoulders, to the small of her back in soft curls. “I’m going to kill you, Michael.” She yelled, slamming her foot to the gas pedal and speeding off down the street. Within her thoughts she could hear her brother’s laughter, echoing off the walls of her mind.

‘Shut up....’ She thought as she drove, brakes screeching as she came to a rather abrupt stop at the stop sign at the end of the road leading from her neighborhood.

The laughter continued, driving her mad, then it was followed by her brother’s smooth voice, filled at the moment with a mischievous amusement, ‘Oh, come now, sister. You knew full well when we began that argument this morning that there was the possibility of you being late for school. Don’t blame me for your carelessness. You know if you had just done as I asked the first time you wouldn’t have run the risk of being late.’

His logic infuriated her, and she instantly threw up walls around her mind, blocking him out easily enough. She should have known he was going to do something stupid like that; taunting her telepathically while she was driving like a maniac just to get to school on time. Not that it mattered. What did school mean to someone who held the power of the ancient Magiae line in her blood? What did it matter to one who would outlive the humans of her generation, and the generation thereafter. She went, though, to please her mortal father and to gain some quiet from her foolish brother’s ranting.

As she drove her thoughts drifted, thinking of the mortals - the Inervae - that she attended school with each day. They were wary of her, though she knew they were unaware of exactly why. They could sense it, though only subconsciously. They could feel the waves of her magic surrounding her, a steady pulse that only other Magiae could distinguish for what it really was. These were not just the vibes other students thought they were getting as a warning to stay away from her.

But there was no time to think about that at the moment. The school was in sight, and she had less than ten minutes to get in there, swing by her locker to grab her books, and get to home room. ‘Hah...no sweat, right?’ She rolled her eyes at the thought and pulled into the parking lot, heading straight for her space; number 176. When she finally reached it and had her car parked she had eight and a half minutes to get to class.

Thanks to that brother of her’s, she was cutting it close; too close for comfort. Looking around, making sure there was no one around, she grinned, “Well...no one will know if I use a bit of an advantage....” She murmured, speaking her thoughts aloud. Holding tight to the strap of her backpack, she took off, sprinting across the parking lot towards the school. Though as she ran, it appeared as though her feet never touched the pavement, around she would have been too quick for them to see.

Coming to a stop in front of her locker, she checked her watch. That bit of help had saved her some time. She might actually make it on time. Fiddling with the lock on her locker, swinging open the door when the latch was free of the combination lock, she grinned to herself. “I win, again, Mikey.” She said with a smug smirk, shoving her backpack into the locker and grabbing the books she’d need.

Without another thought to the matter, she slammed the locker shut and replaced the lock before hurrying down the hallway, and into her home room class three minutes before the bell rang, ‘Victory is mine....’ And the thought was projected to Michael, who only rolled his eyes and frowned at his sister’s childish message, though annoyed that he had lost again.

He’d get her. One of these days he would get her.

~❥♥~❥♥~

Chapter One

~❥♥~❥♥~

Karmin Mason sat on her bed in her room, a slight breeze unsettling the papers spread on her desk, settled against the wall to her right. But, she didn't seem to take any notice of the movement, or the gentle sway of her lavender curtains on either side of her window, reaching to the carpet, a shade of violet a bit darker than the curtains. Her attention was focused fully on the cards that were spread on her bed, the book laying open at her side.

The cards were beautifully decorated with different pictures, symbols, and serpentine writing. Cards labeled things such as The Hanged Man and Temperance spread out before her on the bed. Though these names, their pictures, meant little to her . . . nothing, really. She had no idea what any of them meant, though she longed to know. So, she glanced back to the book at her side, strands of her long, chestnut hair falling about her fair-skinned face, over her small shoulders, and across her thin-framed glasses.

Sighing in frustration, she took the book in her hand and closed it, tossing it across the room with an angry cry, softened by the girl biting hard down on her lower lip. It was almost midnight. She'd rather not risk waking her parents with her cries. But, she'd been at this for nearly two hours, ever since she had finished her homework at ten o'clock. And, still . . . nothing. She was no farther in knowing what any of the cards meant . . . no closer to being able to read them. And, she so longed to be able to do just that . . . to read the fortunes of others through the magic Tarot cards . . . introduced to her by the traveling gypsy woman at the fair a month previous.

Of course, she had been forced to hide the cards from her parents ever since she'd bought them, and the instruction book, in a local bookstore. Her parents would never approve, or allow, such things present in their house. They would throw them into the hearth. Karmin was sure of it. And, she couldn't let that happen. Not before she had even learned to read them, not until she unlocked their secret, so deeply buried. This, though, seemed to be coming to her rather slowly, if at all. Every time she worked with them, she got nothing. And every time she got nothing she grew angry.

"Why can't I do this . . . ?" She murmured, closing her dark hazel eyes, taking deep breaths, hands reaching up to clutch the sides of her head. Fingers tangled themselves in her long hair, stick straight as it always was. This gave her the image of a madwoman . . . but she was not. She was simply frustrated, close to being beaten. And by what? She could not seem to master this deck of cards, no matter how hard she would try.

Her muscles ached, and she pushed this to the back of her mind, recognizing the pains only with a dull awareness. She wasn't surprised...muscles tended to ache when one did not sleep more than three hours a night before waking and going off to school for almost seven hours. Made to sit through seven hours of dull, torturous classes, which did her absolutely no good...classes that she was failing miserably. her grades were suffering badly because of her lack of sleep. Even the work she did do was splattered with mistakes, though most of the time she simply didn't bother with it. Her mind always seemed to be elsewhere.

"Karmin...are you still up?"

It was her mother...she must have heard the book hit the wall.

'Dammit....' Was her only thought, before she gathered the cards quickly into a pile once more, dashing off of the bed to grab the book. She could hear the door to her parents' bedroom creaking open, her mother's shuffling footsteps making their way down the hallway. Panic flooded Karmin's eyes as she wrapped all of it - the book and the cards - into the silky purple cloth, before shoving it into her closet, on the shelf built into the back, behind all of her clothes.

"Karmin, sweetheart. You have school in the morning...."

Her mother was outside the door, now, her hand on the doorknob. In a second, she had pushed open the door, standing just outside the room, peering in at her daughter, sitting on the edge of the bed, a textbook in her lap, cheeks flushed. When her mother entered, Karmin looked up, smiling as innocently as she could muster, her breath still quick.

"I'm sorry, Momma. I guess time got away from me.... I was studying for..." She trailed off, glancing quickly down at the book in her lap, "For a test I have tomorrow in my French class. It's a rather difficult lesson. I'm sorry. I'll get to bed right away. I promise."

Closing the book and dropping it to the floor, she stood, and stretched her arms above her head, a yawn coming from her parted lips. She really was tired, and a few hours of sleep before school in the morning would surely do her good. Her smile still in place, she wrapped her arms around her mother's neck for a moment, before kissing her cheek and bidding her goodnight. This seemed to satisfy the woman, for she smiled and nodded, returning her daughter's embrace, before turning and leaving the room to return to her own.

Watching her go, Karmin shook her head, "Yes, goodnight, Mother...." She murmured, biting back another yawn. Then, closing the door, she turned and fell onto her bed, lying her stomach. She didn't even bother exerting the energy to change clothes. She simply closed her eyes, hugged her pillow to her front, and fell asleep, curled into a ball, her hands in loose fists against the pillow's dark blue case.

~❥♥~❥♥~

“Oh...shove off, will you, Michael? I did not ask you for your opinion, and I promise you...if I wanted it, I would ask for it.”

Siblings at war, as they normally were, Michael and Gabriella Leardone glared at one another, neither willing to be the first to back down from the argument at hand. This was how it always was...Michael trying to boss her around and blowing everything out of proportion, eventually creating a huge scene about absolutely nothing. This time it was about the black nail polish on her long, manicured fingernails.

“That’s just ridiculous, Gabbi. Go on upstairs and get it off before you go to school.” Michael was speaking through clenched teeth, dark brown eyes glinting. It was obvious he was angry, and this only fueled Gabriella, urging her onward.

She looked down, her own eyes a deep violet in color, so different from her brother’s dark eyes, so dark that if looked at in the wrong lighting they would appear ebony, “I don’t know, big brother...I like it.” She quipped, a smirk playing on her lips, pale and full beneath her burgundy gloss. “Why should I change it for you, hmm?” She was taunting him. It was obvious. She didn’t care. She was enjoying herself, really.

And Michael was growing angrier by the minute. Raking his long fingers through his mop of curly black hair, falling about his face and reaching to his chin, curling even more at the nape of his neck. His eyes flashed, or appeared to do so, as he narrowed them at his sister, frowning, “I said get rid of it, Gabriella. It doesn’t do you justice. I expect it off this afternoon.” He growled, tossing her car keys in her general direction, before turning and storming back into the living room of their home.

With all that yelling, Gabriella was sure they’d wrenched their father from his sleep, and he was sure to be ill. So, catching her keys, she turned and grabbed her backpack, slinging this over her shoulder, “Yeah, sure thing, bro....” She called over her shoulder, pulling open the door and hurrying out into the crisp air of the autumn morning, a grin on her face. When she was safely outside, door closed behind her, she murmured, “I win....” A rather childish proclamation, really, but her thoughts all the same.

Not another thought did she spare to the argument as she hurried down the porch steps and down the walk, to her car parked at the curb in front of their home. It was rather chilly, and the cold was not helped by her denim skirt reaching to only mid-thigh with her fishnet hose clinging to her long legs and disappearing into the tops of her knee high boots of soft leather with their spiked heels, nor by the black tank-top she wore, with sleeves about an inch wide, a shirt of the same fishnet material worn beneath. It peaked out of the collar of her tank-top around her neck, and fell down over her arms, out from under the straps of the tank-top. All in all, not an outfit for the weather...but it was what she’d pulled out of the closet that morning. As if she ever actually dressed according to the weather, or the occasion, for that matter.

Checking the watch around her small, left wrist, a low string of curses escaped her parted lips, “No way...thanks a lot, Michael. I’m so going to be late, now.” She muttered, wrenching open the door on the driver’s side of her gleaming black ‘97 Taurus, a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday the month before. Tossing her backpack into the passenger seat, she leapt into the car, slamming the door shut, and shoving her keys into the ignition of the car, starting it immediately.

Anger flushed her olive-skinned cheeks, her own inky black hair falling about her face, down over her shoulders, and to the small of her back, in soft curls. “I’m going to kill you, Michael.” She yelled, slamming her foot to the gas pedal and speeding off down the street, and in her mind she could hear her brother’s laughter, echoing off the walls of her mind.

‘Shut up....’ She thought as she drove, brakes screeching as she came to a rather abrupt stop at the stop sign at the end of the road leading from her neighborhood.

The laughter continued, driving her mad, then it was followed by her brother’s smooth voice, filled at the moment with a mischievous amusement, ‘Oh, come now, sister...you knew full well when we began that argument this morning that there was the possibility of you being late for school. Don’t blame me for your carelessness. You know...if you had just done as I asked the first time...you wouldn’t have run the risk of being late.’

His logic infuriated her, and she instantly through up walls around her mind, blocking him out easily enough. She should have known he was going to do something stupid like that...taunting her telepathically while she was driving like a maniac just to get to school on time. Not that it mattered...what did school mean to someone who held the power of the ancient Magiae line in her blood? What did it matter to one who would outlive the humans of her generation, and the generation thereafter. She went, though, to please her mortal father, and to quiet her foolish brother’s ranting.

As she drove her thoughts drifted, thinking of the mortals; the Inervae, that she attended school with each day. They were wary of her, though she knew they were unaware of exactly why. They could sense it. The waves of her magic surrounding her, a steady pulse, that only other Magiae could distinguish for what it really was. Not just the vibes other students thought they were getting as a warning to stay away from her.

But, no time to think about that at the moment. The school was in sight, and she had less than ten minutes to get in there, swing by her locker to grab her books, and get to home room. ‘Hah...no sweat, right?’ She rolled her eyes at the thought and pulled into the parking lot, heading straight for her space. Number 176. When she finally reached it and had her car parked, she had eight and a half minutes to get to class.

Thanks to that brother of her’s, she was cutting it close. Too close for comfort. Looking around, making sure there was no one around, she grinned, “Well...no one will know if I use a bit of advantage....” She murmured, speaking her thoughts aloud. Holding tight the strap of her backpack, she took off, sprinting across the parking lot towards the school. Though, as she ran, it appeared as though her feet never touched the pavement, as though she were flying. Even if there had been students lingering about...she would have been too quick for them to see.

Coming to a stop in front of her locker, she checked her watch. That bit of help had saved her some time. She might actually make it on time. Fiddling with the lock on her locker, swinging open the door when the latch was free of the combination lock, she grinned to herself. “I win, again, Mikey.” She said with a smug smirk, shoving her backpack into the locker and grabbing the books she’d need.

Without another thought to the matter, she slammed the locker shut and replaced the lock, before hurrying down the hallway, and into her home room class, three minutes before the bell rang, ‘Victory is mine....’ And the thought was projected to Michael, who only rolled his eyes and frowned at his sister’s childish message, though annoyed that he had lost, again.

He’d get her.... One of these days he’d get her, he would.

Brainstorming
Friday, March 24, 2006

Magic is just in the old fairy tales, isn't it? Or, is it true that there are those who still possess the ability to do things we only imagine in our dreams? Those with the ability to wield the ancient magic really do live amongst us, ordinary human beings, without a trace of evidence. They keep themselves hidden, not even revealing themselves to one another, though magic is drawn to magic, is it not?

Karmin Mason
A young woman, rather obsessed with the supernatural...though simply a human girl of sixteen. A reader of fantasy and a lover of fictional movies filled with ghosts, witches, vampires...anything of the like. She delves into the secret arts of the old tarot cards, though others look down on her and call her eccentric for her hobbies and the like. She doesn't really care...one day her parents fear that her obsession will drive her to madness, for they know (or think they know) that the magic she insists is real does not truly exist. They hope that she will grow out of this 'phase' and listen to reason as she grows older.

Gabriella Leardone
One of two...she and her brother...two wielders of the ancient magic. She lives amongst the teenagers at her high school, those around her never catching on to her, though she can feel another presence...someone else who possesses the old ways. But she can never pinpoint where it comes from. This young woman has a bit of a fiery temper, a rebellious attitude, and not a lot of respect for authority figures. Why should she, when she has such power at her hands, though she is still learning and growing stronger? Her mother, dead since Gabriella was only three years old, was a great healer in her time, killed by a band of the Nyfedir...those wielding tainted magic, wicked because of such magic...because of her delving into the healing aspects of healing. With no mother figure around to guide her, Gabriella is a rather mislead young woman, her disrespect turned even towards her brother and her father.

Michael Leardone
Three years his sister's senior, Michael is the second child of the great Helena Kindalle...the witch who married a powerless mortal man, who grows older and older each year, right before his children's eyes, for despite all their powers they are slowly gaining, they cannot stop the aging of the Inervae, those without the powers of the ancients...so weak and fragile. Michael's tough on his little sister, but they seem to be constantly arguing, even more so when Gabriella befriends the eccentric Karmin...and threatens to reveal their secret to the girl. Michael is a bit headstrong and he has a tendency to become angry if someone goes against him, or he does not get what he wants.

'Nyfedir'
The sub-species of the users of the ancient magic, the Magiae, their enemy, ever since magic was brought about. The Nyfedir hold magic as well, but the magic is tainted, the very blood in their veins tainted. They tend to use whatever magic they have for evil, big and small. The tainted blood and tainted magic...eventually drives them to insanity...or death. Whichever comes first, or whichever they chose. For some insanity is the greater evil of the two, and they bring about their own death one way or the other. But, for those who simply chose to go on with their insanity...the Magiae seek them out and destroy them...for those who have reached their breaking part could create havoc...not using their better judgement to conceal themselves from the Inervae. The Nyfedir have a taste for the blood of innocents. They are not vampires, by any means. They simply get a thrill from the chase of their prey, the fear...the sweet taste of the blood of an innocent. They live to create fear.

Aerythe Sheltaen
A young 'Aritae' - a sprite of sorts, captured by a band of Nyfedir when she dared to stray too far from her clan. Adventurous as she is, she is still young, naive, and full of innocence. They capture her easily enough, for she is weak; so fragile, and so vulnerable to magic, just like any other of her kind. Capturing her to take her back to their leader...who seems to have acquired a taste for blood, particularly the sweet, innocent blood of the Aritae. Frightened, confused, and beaten, she is found by Michael.... He takes a pity on her, a certain fondness developing for her when he sees her so badly hurt. Becoming her rescuer, he steals her away, destroying one of the younger Nyfedir who had taken her, the one left to guard her while the others went off in search of entertainment in the city. He takes her back to his home, healing her. She doesn't much care for Gabriella's teasing and condescending attitude...though, Aerythe can see past the other girl's disdain, to a sympathy for the Aritae's run-in with the Nyfedir, she could sense the bitter hatred Gabriella held for the dark creatures.

'Aritae'
Sprites of a sort. They appear human, only with smaller forms. Their kind does not eat meat...for they live in the forests, uninhabited by the humans of a technological age, and live with the animals, with which they can communicate. They do not possess the ancient magics, but the have the abilities to speak with the animals, and to shift to the forms of the animals easily, a different animal for every Aritae...their familiar. They are tricksters, through and through, loving to toy with the minds of humans, but never to harm the humans.... And, the Aritae are weak, vulnerable, to the magic of both the Nyfedir and the Magiae, especially the Nyfedir...for their magic is evil, and the Aritae are pure, innocent creatures...frightened more of nothing than the dark magic of the Myfedir. They have a rather unearthly look to them, with their pale skin, pale eyes, and pale hair, and their small, fragile bodies. Even the males of their kind are rather feminine.

Nicholae Roseline
The man to bring about Gabriella's downfall, in a matter of speaking. A powerful Magiae, four years he senior, who saves her from falling prey to a rather well-set-up ambush by a group of vagabond Nyfedir. He's charming with roguish good looks, a witty sense of humor...though he's rather manipulative. When he can't get what he wants, it drives him mad, until he gets his way, and...he always gets his way. He intends to keep it this way. When he falls for the spunky Gabriella, he's set himself a challenge. Pursuing her shamelessly, and against her brother's wishes, he seeks to 'woo' her and make her his, despite her protests. She wants nothing to do with him...for his temper is something fierce and he's a bit possessive, as she can see early on, plus he's older than her brother. Why should she have anything to do with him?

Serpens Cineras
The so-called leader of the Nyfedir...or at least those living in Boston, the town where Michael and Gabriella live. He is a powerful man, though nearing his breaking point...so close to insanity.... He desires nothing more than to find a way to taint those left in the Magiae line...leaving no more 'good' magic in the world. He doesn't see a point in it. Never has. He believes that all of his kind should be like him...dark. Evil. Inhumane. But, the Leardone siblings have twice foiled him...once when Michael saved his Aritae and left him lacking that night in the sweet blood of an Aritae, a new blood slave...one as sweet, succulent, and fresh as Aerythe had been...and then again when Gabriella had escaped the group with Nicholae's help. He'd already hated the Leardone line for the mother...a healer. The highest form of good. To help those who are in need of helping. Now, his hatred grows, fueled by his frayed mind...and his sights are set on destroying the two before they grow to their full potential.

Targets of Serpens

The first - their father.
The next - Karmin.
Anyone to hurt them.

Now, they have lost their mother and their father, both to the dark ones, and Karmin is harmed...beyond helping. She is killed as well, as slow painful death of the dark poison coursing through her every vein, something Gabriella cannot help and must sit in agony, watching her best and only friend die before her eyes. Fury inflames the minds of Gabriella and Michael. Despite all of their disagreements...the two must now band together...with the help of Nicholae, and maybe a little help from Aerythe, though she cannot oppose the Nyfedir directly because of the weaknesses of her kind, she can still help...somehow. She must. For Michael. Both headstrong, they rush out, straight for the abandoned warehouse where the know Serpens has made his keep. They meet Nicholae on their way, and he demands to know what has happened, hears the story after a bit of coaxing, and says he will go, too, despite the protests of the two. He ends up going, saying he must go to protect Gabriella, which softens them both.

Prologue

"No, Vaeda! No. Do it again, and this time, do it right, for heaven's sake, and mine, will you?"

The young girl, no older than eight or nine years old, nodded, tears pooling her eyes, but not daring to fall, "Yes, mother. I'm sorry...." She murmured, standing from the floor, back to her feet, taking a deep breath. 'I must do better...or mother will be upset with me, again....' She thought silently, chewing on her lower lip in concentration, waiting for her mother to start the music once more.

With a curt nod, Elane Leardone turned and pressed the button on the remote in her hand, restarting the soft, slow music, that would slowly gain speed, speed that Vaeda's movements would have to match, something the little Vaeda Leardone seemed to be having trouble being successful in doing. But, she would do it. No matter what it took.

Now, Vaeda lifted herself onto her the tips of her toes, beginning the routine; a series of spins, a leap, and another spin, picking up speed with the music, but as she did so, her foot slipped out from under her, again, and she went sprawling onto the floor, falling onto her stomach.

"Vaeda! Not again...." Elane's eyes burned with agitation. This was the third time her daughter had fallen, and it was beginning to look purposeful to the older woman, which only made her anger increase.

In her opposite hand, the one free of holding the stereo's remote, a walking stick was held so tightly her knuckles were turning white, "I swear, young lady, if you do not get it right this time, I will have you doing an hour's worth of warm-ups!" She was close to screeching.

A whimper was her only answer as the child pushed herself to her feet, her limbs aching. They'd already been at this for an hour and a half. "Yes, Mother.... I'll try harder." She murmured, another deep breath to calm herself, her voice showing her weariness, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"Do not slouch!" Her mother did screech this part, bringing the cane to whack it across the backs of Vaeda's shoulders, causing a yelp of pain from the girl as she stumbled forward and back onto the floor, the tears that had pooled in her eyes now falling freely and splattering on the ground at Vaeda's hands. "Get up. Do it again!"

Vaeda pushed herself to her knees, and then to her feet, trembling from the soreness spreading through her every muscle, both from an hour and a half of constant movement, as well as the pulsing spot on her back. She was sure there would be a bruise there in the morning. "Mother...please...might I go to bed, and continue in the morning?" When she spoke, her voice was low, soft, barely audible, her head lowered.

This seemed to enrage her mother even further, "Vaeda Leardone. We will not quit this until you have even the beginning of this simple routine correct. Can't you even do that much? I could have done it easily, at the age of seven!" She hissed, stepping forward with a slight limp on her right side, grabbing the child roughly by the shoulder, her nails coming close to digging into the skin of her daughter's small shoulders, shaking with the girl's sobs.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I'm sorry...I'm tired...." She cried, curling her hands into tight fists by her sides, wincing as Elane's grip tightened on her shoulder and her nails pierced the skin beneath Vaeda's loose t-shirt, tied at the side with a scrunchie, "Momma, stop! You're hurting my arm...." She cried, reaching up to grab at her mother's hand, closing her small fingers around Elane's wrist, tugging at it, trying to pull the hand from her shoulder.

A smirk was the only expression held on Elane's face for a moment, before a frown formed on her lips, as she pulled her hand away, "Fine, go to bed for all I care, Vaeda. When you wind up weak and crippled, though, never say I did not try to help you; to teach you." She murmured, moving from the room, her limp evident, and her cane tapping the floor as she went, chuckling to herself.

Falling to the floor, like a rag doll crumpling when someone releases it, Vaeda sat on her knees, her face buried in her hands. Her tears slowly leaked through her fingers and slid slowly down over her hands and forearms. She was weak, as any young girl would be after an hour and half spent in a basement-studio underneath her home, once used by her mother, before she'd hurt her leg, working on moves given to her at the start of the evening by her mother, who expected her to perfect such techniques. She was tired, this was true, but she never could take the mocking laughter, the cruel words, the smirk on her mother's face, and worst of all...the disappointment. She would prove to her mother she really could do this.

Pushing herself to her feet, a deep breath through her nose and out her mouth, she turned and walked to the stereo, searching for the right button, then pressing it, hearing that same, dreadful music she'd been hearing all night...and, then...she started again. Pushing herself to her limits, spinning and leaping around the polised wood floor, standing herself upright whenever she fell. She did this for another half hour, before she couldn't take it anymore.

Leaping into the air, with a tired sigh, Vaeda came down all wrong, her foot slipping and causing her to fall on her side. This time, though, she stayed as she was. Curling up into a ball, she hugged her arms around her front, face and back drenched with sweat, and closed her eyes. This is where she slept that night - slept until her mother sent for her for breakfast.

That had not been the not been the only night she'd spent sleeping in her studio. But, it did start the trend. Her mother would often have to send one of the servants for her, to call her up for breakfast, for a shower, to make herself presentable. But, thinking back on it over the years, it had never been good enough for her mother, no matter how good she got at her dancing as a child. Never good enough, even after Elane and Joseph Leardone were killed in a car accident, leaving Vaeda and her younger sister, ten years younger than herself, on their own, with a fortune to their name, that only they could control. But, not until Vaeda reached the age of eighteen. Until then...they were stuck in foster home after foster home, waiting for the time when they could live on their own, and fighting always to keep from being seperated. Elane's voice always echoed in Vaeda's head, pushing her to do her best, even if that meant her pushing herself too hard.

An explosion,
Caused by a few simple words.
Tears spring to her eyes,
Though she tries so hard not to cry.
She forces herself to remain strong,
Not daring to leave her mother all alone
With this confrontation that has been waiting so long.
Caused by a blatant betrayal of a self-serving father.

He has failed.
Her knight's once shining armour has now turned black,
She knows in her mind,
There's no turning back.

Pretending to sleep,
When he opens the door,
She hears her mom weep,
And silent tears start to pour.
But her eyes remain closed,
Her shoulders stay tensed.
The thoughts in her mind,
Stray far from being kind.

Her thoughts centered on revenge.
A plan forming bitter sweet.
This woman who stole his heart,
And caused him to cheat.
Die in her bed,
By a loving daughter's scorned hands.
So simple it would be,
To put this pillow to her head.
Holding it tight in it's place,
Over her face.
And, as her struggles come,
the girl smirks,
because she knows the woman will not get away.

But now....

This daughter opens her eyes,
Swollen and red from a night of her cries.
Her stiff muclses ache,
From a long night,
Ending up on the couch.
She blinks in surprise,
Looking around.
In her chest,
She feels her heart pound.

Was it only a dream?
Could I have imagined it all?

But, tension hangs so thick in the air,
Telling her all is not right,
This torrent of feeling is still definately there,
Lingering still from the long, dreaded night.
Only a few hours ago,
Though it seems an eternity.
She knows it was real.
Not a bad dream.
He's sorry, he's sorry,
Or so it would seem.

Broken and torn,
By the tears in his eyes,
Her feelings confused,
His hurt cutting her heart like a knife.
The daughter heads off in sorrow to school,
While her tears one more start to pool.

Pretend all is well,
And no one will know,
Thaat all last night was,
Was a true living hell.
They won't know that last night was a nightmare in motion,
And, she's starting to think a pologue to his desertion.