Andy Hollis
1.
"I'm broiling here," I thought as the stage lights grew hotter and hotter. Flash bulbs were going off in every direction, and I had to squint, a little, even to see the first row of the audience. Dad looked bored, but Mom, Mom had this expression on her face of pure joy.
I stood, wearing only a light pink, one piece bathing suit, with a ribbon announcing my home town. The guy with the mike announced the second runner up. It wasn't me, but I almost wished it was. The contest was now down to the four of us, semi-finalists. All of us looked perfect, all of us were considered the prettiest girls on the East Coast, but out of everyone that entered, I bet that I was the only boy.
There was nothing, not even a slight wrinkle in my suit to give that away, and I didn't wear padding or anything to hide what was there, after all, I didn't have that much to hide, but still I had made it this far and I had no idea if I should be laughing or crying.
"The first runner up is.... Chrissie Daniels. Chrissie? Step up this way." In the midst of squeals from the girls, myself included, Chrissie walked up to accept her crown and robe. She would be the one going on to the National Competition, that is if I won this one.
"And the winner, of this years' Little American Beauty pageant, pre-teen division, is Traci Williamson."
Me? I stood there for a moment, completely blank. Mom said I'd win, easily, but somehow I never really believed her.
"Traci? Step this way, please."
I didn't hear the applause, or the screams from the other girls. In a daze, I followed directions, let the last year's winner put a crown on my head as two ladies wrapped a cloak around my shoulders and put a couple dozen roses in my hands.
Smile, I told myself, and I forced my lips to comply as the music played and television cameras rolled. I said something for the contest, and then it was over. I had a five thousand dollars toward college; a contract for commercials for the sponsor, some cereal I had never heard of, and doubted if I'd like, but I had to eat it anyway, and a title that would mean absolutely nothing in real life.
I hurried back to the dressing room, unable to avoid all the other girls, and the press. I had to answer a lot more questions, and still no one asked if I was really a girl. As soon as I could I changed into my street clothes, a yellow sun dress, and headed out to find Mom and Dad.
On the way home, I sat in the back of the car, silent, trying to sort things out. I still couldn't believe I had won the contest, but more than that I wondered if I should be concerned. Technically, I was a male. I had XY chromosomes, since Mom had them tested years ago, when I was four or five.
As long as I could remember, I felt that I was a girl, not a boy. I mean I couldn't pass a boy anywhere, nor did I want to, except at school and legally they had to list my correct gender. It wasn't my fault....
"Tracy?"
... that I was born with this face. But, everyone still treated me as if I had the plague.
"Tracy?" Mom asked again, and shook my kneecap.
"Huh? Sorry, Mom. Just thinking."
"Glad that you won?"
"Yes, yes I am," I said and meant it, "but I still don't believe it."
"You were the prettiest girl there by a long shot," Dad commented.
"Thanks, but I'm still not quite a girl, so why did I win?"
"Your plumbing doesn't mean anything, Trace. That can change when you are old enough," Mom added.
"I didn't mean it that way, and I can't wait, but I mean could something be wrong with me that I'm this pretty?"
"No, not at all, sweetheart," she said with a laugh. "You are a girl, a downright gorgeous girl, and that is all there is to it."
Dad nodded. "She's right, sweetie. Don't worry about that now, you will have more than enough time to think about that when you're older. Enjoy tonight, you earned it."
"Okay, Dad," I said.
We pulled into the gate to Fort Wayne Wright. The guards snapped to attention when they saw who was driving, saluted and waved us through. Dad waved, but didn't return the salute since he was out of uniform.
"Do you want me to call your sisters with the news, or do you want to?" Mom asked me.
"You can, I was going to call Jason."
"Jason? Trace, I have never understood what you see in that boy, but go ahead."
"Mom, he's my friend, not my boy-friend, but about the only friend around here I do have. He's okay, really, and he's clueless, you know, oblivious to the way I look, and the whole boy-girl thing. I swear you could get a dozen of the girls in the contest to go to his room, strip naked and all he'd want to do is play video games with them."
"How old is this kid, ten?" Dad asked.
"No, he's twelve, like me, but if you aren't the star of a comic book, he is so not interested in you. I mean, he could be nine or ten his whole life."
"I knew a kid like that in school," Dad said slowly. "Charles. Don't think he ever got married after college, either."
"Looks like we, no you, have a welcoming committee," Mom told Dad.
"I can take a day off, the Army permits it," he said, and sighed at the sight of three soldiers waiting for us outside of our quarters.
"General Williamson, sir," the first one to the car said.
"Col. Tyler, I am not here. I am on vacation, and Col. Brandt is in charge. Can't this wait?"
"I'm afraid not. Please, sir, we need you at the office, now."
"I understand. Girls, Capt. Smith there can show you inside, I had better go. I'll be home in time for the victory dinner, I swear it."
"We understand," Mom said quickly. "Thank you, Capt. Smith."
We didn't need an escort into the house, but it made Dad feel better. The problem with having him as commanding general, of even a little post like this one was that he was never home.
I called Jason, but the first words out of his mouth were, "Where have you been? We were supposed to go to Miller's today. The new 'Black Lightning' is out."
"I told you I was going to be out of town, Jay. I won my beauty contest."
"Huh? You went to some girl's thing instead of this?"
"Yeah, it would have broken Mom's heart if I didn't go. You know how it is, Captain Danger, we all have to do our duty to our mother's and our country!"
"Okay, but you want to go tomorrow?"
"Okay," I said with a sigh. "I'll go with you to Miller's tomorrow, but not to the mall, okay? If you have to go to Tomorrow, Inc, you can count me out."
"Okay, but.... See you," he said and hung up.
So much for anyone being thrilled with my news, except Mom and perhaps my sisters. My brothers probably wouldn't be that interested. Carlton was off with Marines, and Roger struggled to maintain a passing grade in College.
Dad, true to his word, for a change, joined us -- and on time -- for dinner. He looked worried about something, but didn't say much as we ate. Finally, Mom called him on it.
"Don, what is it? You look like you've been skinned."
"Do you remember Gen. Taggart?"
"Buzz cut, gung ho type that should have been a marine?"
"That's Tag to the T, Shelly, but there was an accident. He was at Fort Cooper, out in Nebraska, and he lost control of his car. He's okay, but he broke most of his bones and several major organs were damaged in the crash. He was alone, thank God, and he will make it, but he could be in a convalescent home for years over this."
"Oh, I am so sorry. Should we send him something?"
"Actually, I suppose we could bring him something, sweetheart. They want me to take command of Fort Cooper. It's a huge place, not much outside the post, but they have everything there. Now, Trace," he said looking at me. "I know this will mean another move and another school for you...."
"When can we leave?" I asked. "This is great, Dad. Are you gonna be there for a while?"
"Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"
I laughed, with him, and added, "I hate this place, and I am like so out of here. Can I be a girl at the new school?"
Mom swallowed, and shook her head. "We can ask the school. There are some that will allow it, but I wouldn't hold your breath."
"Okay, that's all I can ask, Mom. This is great news."
2.
"Guess what?" I told Jason as I met him at the post bus stop.
"What," he answered, although he sounded a bit annoyed. He peered at me through his glasses like a slightly overgrown owl.
"We're moving. Dad has a new assignment somewhere in Montana or someplace out West."
"Huh?" he said as he climbed up the steps and deposited his money in the machine. "You're moving?"
"You could help the lady up the stairs," the bus driver chided him as I paid for the ride.
"It's okay," I said and walked back to sit down beside Jason. I made a point of brushing my skirt before I sat down. "We're leaving in a couple of days. They need a new commander at Ft. Cooper right away."
"That's horrible. We must fight this with everything we've got, Sergeant. I can't break in a new, trusty sidekick now."
"But -- but Captain, it's what Uncle Sam wants," I answered, playing along.
"I know that sometimes duty to mothers and country is the only way, but not this time. Can't you stay here for the next school year? You could stay with us, you know. Mom likes you, even though she keeps calling you a girl."
"I know, and I like her, too, but someone has to be there for my mom in this, her hour of greatest need. You can help pack stuff, too."
"Very funny," he said. "Tracy, you know I don't want you to move.... Uh, what happened to your hair?"
I stared at him for a second. "You noticed? I had it done for the beauty contest I told you about. I won, too."
He shrugged, and added, "You're always into that girl stuff, I mean.... Why are you wearing a skirt?"
"The Martians have landed and you're a pod person, Captain Danger. I've always worn skirts."
"But why?"
"Captain, quick, you have ten seconds to use your incomparable powers of observation and figure this out before the world ends.... Ten.... I wear dresses, too, and I won that beauty contest.... Nine.... Eight.... My hair didn't grow this long overnight.... Seven.... Six...."
"You're a girl?"
I started laughing. "You are a trip, Jason, a real trip. How long have you known me, and how long have I looked like this?"
"You know, something. You're really pretty," he said quietly. "No wonder Mom thought we were going to date. How can you be my sidekick and be a girl? Captain Danger doesn't.... How long have you been a girl?"
"It's okay, Captain, I'm really a boy, and I was just putting you on," I said, wishing that statement wasn't closer to the truth than the first. "Still your sidekick even if I am in Colorado or someplace. Ft. Cooper, you ever heard of it?"
"Yeah, big Fort in Nebraska, by the way," he told me. "They've got around thirty-five thousand people stationed there, and it is the home of the Army Tactical and Strategic Museum. Send me some postcards, okay? It was named after Gen. James Bryan Cooper, no relation to the writer, and he was a hero of the Indian Wars, died in battle in...."
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Don't ever change, okay?"
He stared at me, and shut up. Only after we climbed down from the bus at the post shopping center, did he ask me, "Why did you do that?"
"I felt like it, that is probably the only time in my life I will kiss a boy, and I don't want to say 'bye, either."
At home, with a paperback under my arm, but no comic books, Mom gave me the weirdest stare, as I walked into the kitchen.
"What happened with you and Jason?"
"Nothing," I said, and remembered. "I gave him a kiss on the cheek to say good bye."
"Apparently, he's upset about it. I think that boy noticed that you're a girl, for the first time in four years."
"He even asked me if I was. He's okay, Mom, usually a real neuter, you know? But he is my friend."
"I know, when no one else will be. You may be staying over with him for a while during this move. No more kissing, no matter what the reason. Neither I nor his mother want him freaking out."
"Okay, deal."
3.
As it turned out, it took us a lot longer to move than I thought. Dad and Mom flew out to Fort Cooper first, while I stayed with Jason and his folks, in the guest room. Mom registered me in school, as a boy in spite of her protests, and flew back to supervise the move.
School had already started when I flew out with Mom the next time. I could handle that, and I asked if I could take a couple of days to get settled in. No, she said, and that was it. Before I had a chance to get unpacked, she sent me to school, in boys' clothes. I had washed the curl out of my hair, but still it fell way below shoulder length. At least, for the first week or so I would have it easy at my new school.
4.
I carried my tray across the cafeteria and headed to the first empty table I saw. There I was, dressed in a grubby t-shirt, cut off shorts and sneakers and still the boys reacted, as they always did in a new school, by staring at me, grinning and nudging each other with their elbows. The girls nodded and glanced away.
That reaction was standard for me. Okay, so I liked the attention I'd get, for the first week or so, after that it would be back to normal. My dad's in the Army, so I'm used to moving and to new schools.
Within a minute, a girl almost as pretty as me, sat down at my table. She was dressed in a plaid skirt with a white blouse and black sandals.
"Hi, I'm Becky, Rebecca actually, and welcome to Coopersville Middle School."
"Thanks," I said. "I'm Tracy, Tracy Williamson. My Dad was just assigned to Fort Cooper. We got in last night, but I've been enrolled here for a while."
She nodded. "You don't look like the type to dress like that," she commented. "Haven't had the chance to unpack?"
I shook my head, my hair swayed with me. "I usually dress like this," I said with a grin. "I don't wear skirts to school, and.... Who's that?" I asked noticing a boy, an eighth grader, who was looking at me. This kid was downright gorgeous from his wavy blond hair, to his baby blue eyes. I smiled at him.
"That's Brad," Becky said with a sigh. "Brad Johnson. His Dad is a hot shot at the post, so you two will have lots to talk about."
"With Mr. Perfect?"
She laughed, "He's a sweetheart, really, but clueless. He's friends with just about everyone, but he doesn't have a single girlfriend, you know? I've never seen him take out a girl, or a boy for that matter."
From the way Brad was looking at me, I tended to think Becky was the clueless one. "Okay, then I don't have anything to worry about."
"You just might from the way he seems to be itching to come over here. Oh, there's Linda," she said and took off, quickly.
I watched what had to be the school social secretary hurry off, feeling her disapproval of my casual method of dress, although there was a good reason for it.
Brad walked up to my table. I smiled at him again.
"Hi, I'm Bradley," he said.
"I heard, another member of the welcome wagon? Hi, I'm Tracy, Tracy Williamson," I said returning his smile. At least his smile was genuine. Maybe he wasn't such a hot shot after all.
"Do you mind?" he asked pulling out a chair.
"Go for it," I said taking a bite of my sub.
"I saw you earlier, in Algebra, and I was wondering if you needed someone to show you around the school, and town this afternoon? There isn't that much here, besides the Army base, but there's a great mall and a few parks."
"I'd like that. Got an arcade at the mall? I'm into Battle Hammer, and Space Blaster and my Mom hasn't had time to do much except get me in school."
"I bet. I'm pretty good at Battle Hammer, myself. I'll show you some tricks I know. I'm an Army brat, too, you know. My dad's the First Sergeant at B Company."
"Cool," I said with a wider grin. "My dad's the new C.O. This is probably the last post he'll get, so I'm here for a while."
"That's right, General Williamson. He's your dad?" I nodded. "I thought they said he had a son?"
"He does," I said, with another smile. "I've got two brothers and two sisters, but I'm the only one at home now. You know," I said looking around the cafeteria. "You're making every single girl in here jealous, talking to me, don't you?"
He shrugged. "What do you mean?"
"Oh come on, Bradley, you've gotta have a dozen girls just falling all over you. They're going to hate me too, for the first week or so." No one could fake that sort of fuddled expression. This one was for real.
He shook his head. "There's Jenny, but she's cool. I don't have any real girlfriends. What about you? I thought you'd be at St. Mary's"
I frowned. "Where?"
"It's the girls' academy down the road. Most of the officers' daughters go there."
With a shake to get my bangs out of my face, I reached back and brushed my hair off my shoulders. "Possibly, but who are you calling a girl?" I asked quietly.
It was his turn to frown as his smile faltered a bit. "What?"
"Hello, Brad," I said and held out my hand. "Hi, I'm Tracy -- with a 'y'. I'm a boy." I tried not to laugh at the expression on his face.
He shook his head. "That's impossible. You -- you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."
"You really think so?" I blurted out. "Sorry. I know what I look like, and believe me, I didn't ask to be born a boy with this face, but what can I do? I didn't want you to take me out thinking you might get lucky with the general's daughter. There's nothing that says you won't get lucky with the general's son, but that's another matter."
His face burned a bright red. "But, I mean, you -- I thought...." He stammered out. "But you walk like a girl, you even eat like a girl."
"Well, duh, and if the school allowed it I'd dress like a girl, too, but.... It's like this. Can you think of anyplace I could go and pass as a boy?"
"No, not even if you shaved your head. You'd still be gorgeous."
"Thanks. But that's the problem. I may be a boy, but I don't look just a little feminine, I look like a major babe, and I have my whole life. My folks are cool with it, so it's not like my dad's all hyper that his son isn't one hundred percent male. That's Carlton, he's my oldest brother, and he's in the Marine Corps. They worked it out long ago.
"See, the thing of it is, that everywhere I go people expect me to be a girl. You did, didn't you? So what's worse? Letting them think I'm a girl, or having everyone complain to my mom that I'm not acting like a girl? Mrs. Williamson, your daughter is so pretty but does she have to act like a slob? Tracy's too pretty to be a tom-boy, can't you dress her more lady-like?"
Brad laughed. "I can see that."
"I learned long ago, that I don't have any masculine honor I need to defend. When I'm old enough I'm going to take hormones and go through a change, but that's when I'm eighteen. So, in the mean time I act like people think I should. Let them think whatever they like, rather than try to explain to the whole world I'm really a boy, since they won't believe it. And I'm not pulling my pants down for everyone either.
"So, when I go out with Mom, or anyone else I use the girls' room, most of the time I wear skirts or dresses, and that's me. Dad buys me jewelry and perfume, no makeup since I'm not old enough, and I can relax. But this school knows I'm a boy, all my teachers know that I'm a boy, and after a while everyone in it will know that I'm a boy, too.
"After this week, any other boy that tries to hang out with me will be branded as gay, even though the gay kids don't want anything to do with me either. They'd be drooling all over you, not me. The girls don't want anything to do with me either, except the butchy ones and I don't really want to hang out with them, so I'm usually the loner."
"God, that really sucks. You'll never have a single date, since no girl would ever want to go out with a boy that much prettier than she is." Brad shook his head.
"If I have any friends, it's with the neuters."
"What?" he asked me. "We've got enough kids in the science club?"
"No, not the geeks or the nerds either. They'll still go gaga over me. I mean the kid that's going to be ten years old his whole life. The only thing in his world is comic books and science fiction. The one that wouldn't even notice what I look like as long as I can talk about his favorite topics."
"Larry Philips," Brad said and snapped his fingers. "I'll introduce you, since he's completely oblivious to the whole boy-girl thing."
"Thanks."
Brad finished his sandwich. "You're really okay, you know that? And are we still on for this afternoon? Maybe you can teach me some tricks on Battle Hammer?"
"You're on. I'll call Mom and let her know I won't be home right away."
"What about you?" he asked. "Would you go out with a girl if you could?"
"Put it this way, Brad, if I was a girl I'd be one hundred percent straight. I don't have any chance at boys since only the straight boys want to get to know me, and won't when they find out, so it doesn't matter. I can drool over you, in my room, but you're safe," I said and laughed.
He sighed, and looked at me. "No one is ever going to call me 'gay', but still...."
"For this afternoon it's Mr. Perfect and the Beauty Queen...." He raised his eyebrows. "No really, I won a beauty contest last summer -- to prove one of mom's points, but I did it."
"No one else would have a chance," he said and sighed again. "Come on, there's some kids I want you to meet."
5.
"Mom?" I said into the cell phone. Brad waited for me by the school's front door.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"I'm going to the mall with this boy I met. He's really nice, and yes, he knows all about me. He just wants to show me around?"
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really. His name is Brad, and he's gorgeous, but that's all it is."
"Okay, Trace, but let me know before you get your ears pierced."
I laughed. "I will. We won't be too late."
"What was that?" Brad asked as I walked over to him.
"Old joke," I said. We walked together out of the school, and I know he noticed all the boys watching us.
"Man," I heard someone say. "Why does Brad always get to be the lucky one?"
"Forget it," someone else answered. "Those two belong together."
Brad flashed me one of his perfect grins. "I'll enjoy it while it lasts."
We walked passed the row of discount houses -- "Instant credit to E-1's and above," and the pawnshops, to catch the shuttle bus to the mall. Like military towns everywhere, and I knew them all, Coopersville filled a niche for all the guys away from home for the first time, but that's about it. A small native population, enough to warrant a school system, and the army was about all the town could boast about.
"Whoa," I commented. "The mall's a lot bigger than I thought."
"Yeah, and it has one of those twenty-four theater places as well, so we do get everything that comes out."
"I'm into science fiction, blood and gore and cops and robbers. I hate the date flicks."
Brad laughed. "Okay, so do I. We'll go sometime."
"It's a date, Bradley," I said and fluttered my eyelids. He shook his head. He stood up and I followed him down the aisle as the bus stopped in front of the mall entrance. He went out the door, then turned and offered his hand to me. I smiled, and let him help me down the stairs.
"You're learning," I said as we walked away from the bus, and I noticed it took him a while to let go of my hand.
We walked through the mall, once, before stopping for a drink at the food court. They had everything here and I felt better about this move already. We headed back to the arcade, until a lady, standing by one of the more pricy boutiques walked up to me.
"Miss, just a minute. I've got something for you."
"Okay," I said with a glance at Brad.
"You can come along, too," she told him. "A girl always needs a boy's opinion."
Brad rolled his eyes, but followed us into the shop.
The saleslady held up the most gorgeous yellow dress I had ever seen. I handed over Mom's credit card, and asked her where I could try it on. She led me back to the changing room, and told me to wait there while she brought a camisole. I pulled off my t-shirt, and when the lady returned she looked at me.
"How old are you?"
"Twelve," I answered with a shrug.
"My dear, you really need to wear a training bra." She took a quick measurement around my chest, and hurried off again. A bra, I admit I had no problem with the thought of wearing one, but....
"Just your size," she said and showed me how to wear the bra. "I know how sensitive your nipples must be right now, and this will make them feel better."
She was right. I hadn't noticed that before, but as I put on the half-slip I made a mental note to check with Mom later. After getting pantyhose and matching shoes, I walked out to the shop. Brad goggled as he saw me.
"You aren't making this easy, you know that?" he told me.
"I'll take it," I said, beaming at the saleslady, "and don't worry about him. He should get his eyes back in his head in a few minutes."
I left the store wearing my new clothes while Brad carried the bag with my school clothes. His free hand brushed mine as we left the shop. I pulled away, but when it happened again, I let him take my hand and lock fingers. Now that I dressed for the occasion a lot of people were taking notice, of me, and Brad. He was quick to notice.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked him.
"Yes, and there's a dance on post Saturday night. Would you go with me?"
At that point, I didn't care if he was just being nice, or not. "Yes. But you had better meet my Mom first."
"What about your dad?" he asked me.
"Look, Mom and Dad and me had it out long ago. Something happened with me, they know it, and so do I. I'm not a boy, and I never was no matter what, and they understand it."
"Yeah, but one question." Right there, in the middle of the mall, he looked at me, and asked. "Has anyone ever tested you to be sure?"
I nodded. "I have the XY chromosomes. It's more important what's up here," I said and pointed to my head, "than what's down there, since I'll lose that as soon as I'm old enough. I can't be a mom, but I can adopt. And, I know you're wondering, what I do have is so small I don't have to tuck anything away when I put on my panties, but what is there is just like yours." I made a point of looking at his crotch, "But I'm betting about ten times smaller."
He blushed, but from the look he gave me I figured I would find out sooner or later how right I was.
"This doesn't make any sense. I'm not gay, but from the moment I saw you, I know that I wanted to -- I mean that I was going to date you. Once we got talking, I knew I wanted to be your friend."
All I could do was smile at him and wonder how long before he changed his mind on that.
Brad escorted me home. The base gave us a large house, although Dad didn't really need all the room, but it was expected that there would be something impressive for the commanding general. I led the way inside, calling out, "Mom? I'm home."
"In the living room, sweetheart," she answered. "Did you have a good time?"
With Brad still on my heels, I found my way there; surprised to see Dad home, too.
"We had a great time, there's a really large Mall on the other side of town. Do you like my new dress?" I blurted out.
"It looks great on you, sweetheart," Dad answered. "And this is?"
"Right, this is Brad -- Brad Johnson. He's the welcoming committee."
"The first sergeant's son?"
"Yes, sir," Brad said, sweating as he shook my father's hand. "Uh, Tracy wanted me to check with you, but there's a dance here on Saturday and I'd like to take her."
Dad raised his eyebrows. "And you do know that Tracy isn't quite like the other girls?"
Brad nodded, emphatically. "We talked about it, and a lot of things, today. She's one of the nicest girls I've ever met."
"And drop dead gorgeous doesn't matter?" Dad cut in.
"But so is he," Mom commented. "It's fine with us, son, since we will be there, too."
Brad looked at me, and I just shrugged. "Great. I need something to wear."
"We both do," Mom said. "Tomorrow, after school, you can show me the mall, and the store where you bought that dress."
6.
Thursday morning I woke up feeling a bit out of sorts. My chest hurt, I ached in both nipples and all night long I had sharp shooting pains through them. I pulled off my t-shirt, and stared. This was unbelievable. My nipples had grown, like overnight. They looked, to me at least, twice the size they had been last night when I went to bed.
I remembered what the lady in the shop had said, and I also remembered I was going to talk to Mom about it. Now seemed to be a real good time. "Mom," I called out when I heard her in the hallway.
"Tracy? Is everything okay?"
"Not sure, but my chest hurts."
She walked into my room, and stared at my chest. "What happened?"
"I don't know. I swear I'm not taking anything, either. Remember Monday when I got that dress with Brad? The saleslady said I needed a training bra and she might be right."
"She is, and you could have told me before this, but something isn't right. I had better make an appointment for you."
I nodded.
"And you needn't look so happy about this, either, sweetheart. It might be a serious problem, or then you could be growing up. At this point, who knows?"
==========
"Hey, Brad." Two guys I recognized from European History sat down at the lunch table across from us. Neither acknowledged that I was there.
"Tom, Bobby. You know Tracy?"
"Yeah, we've met," the boy called Tom answered. He looked like a jock, big, with a rather dull expression in his eyes. Bobby, at least, looked halfway alive in the brains department.
"Tracy, Tom's on the Football team, and one of the best players we have, and Bobby is in the Chess Club."
"So nice to meet both of you," I said, softly.
"Uh, Brad," Tom said, turning away from me. "We heard you're taking Tracy to the dance tomorrow night?"
"Yes, I am. You guys coming, or don't you have dates?"
"No, it's just that, well, you see, don't you know?"
"Huh?"
I gave Brad a quick nudge with my elbow. "I think he's trying to tell you something about me." Here it comes, I thought, does he go with his friends or stick up for me?
"You think? What?" he asked giving the boys a glare.
"You know Tracy -- Tracy's not a girl," Bobby blurted out.
"I'm not?" I asked him.
"No, you're a boy." Tom said.
"And your point is?" Brad asked.
"I guess I am," I agreed. "At least I was the last time I looked."
"You're taking a boy to the dance?"
Brad laughed. "No, I'm taking Tracy. Can either of you clowns look at her and tell me that she looks like a boy?"
"No," Tom said slowly. "She's -- I mean -- he's the prettiest girl, guy, in school, but...."
"Tracy is a girl, maybe not exactly like all the other girls in school, but a girl. Any more questions?"
"It's like your telling everyone you're gay," Bobby said.
"Am I? If I was gay I'd want to take out a hunk like Tom here, not Tracy, you should know that."
"Leave me out of this," Tom half shouted.
"If you leave me out of this, too," Brad said. "Tracy's folks don't have a problem with this, and mine don't, so that leaves just the two of you who do. Get over it."
"Brad! We're your friends, everyone in school is talking about this."
"So? Who told you that Tracy's a boy?" Brad demanded.
"The guys, but everyone knows. Tracy, tell him," Bobby blurted out.
"Tell him what? Do I look like a boy to you?"
"No, but..."
"In a couple of years when you start dating, you'd better ask your friends, or your Mom if the person you're going out with is a boy or a girl since you can't tell," I said and tried hard to put on a concerned expression, but I'm not sure I succeeded. Brad laughed as Bobby turned bright red.
Brad and I walked out of the cafeteria together. "You know, I told you this would happen. I don't want you giving up your friends for me."
"What friends? A couple of narrow-minded kids in this school don't bother me one way or the other."
7.
Mom met me after school. Surprised, I followed her to the car. "You have an appointment this afternoon at the medical center," she told me. "Something is happening here, and I think we need to know what it is."
We drove over to the city rather than go to the post hospital for this; no use this sort of news spreading. Even though my appointment was for four -thirty it took until five before I was called back to see her.
Doctor Richardson breezed into the room looking at my chart. She was young, brunette and rather pretty. She looked up at me and gave me large, warm smile. "Hello, Tracy. Sorry I've been behind schedule today. What brings you in?"
I pulled up my shirt. "I'm having problems here," I said and pointed at my chest. "My nipples hurt and everything's getting puffy."
"How old are you?"
"Twelve. Almost thirteen."
"That looks normal for a girl your age. You can buy an over-the-counter analgesic cream for the pain, but I would also recommend a training bra. That will prevent your shirts from rubbing against them. I know a lot of girls start developing earlier than twelve, but twelve is still the average age for this. Is Tracy your only daughter, Mrs. Williamson?"
"No, I have two others, but since Tracy is technically a boy, we weren't expecting this kind of -- development."
"What do you mean 'technically'?"
"He was born male. He has Y chromosomes, but right from the start it was obvious to
everyone, including Tracy that he was a girl."
"Are you?" the doctor asked me. "A boy or a girl?"
"I'm a girl," I said with a shrug. "As soon as I can, I want to take hormones."
"I see. I'd say in this case your gender identity is appropriate, but would you mind pulling down your pants?"
I undressed the rest of the way, as Dr. Richardson put on a glove.
"Can you pee standing up?"
I blushed. "No, I can't. I tried a couple of times when I was little, but it never worked right."
"The opening is in the wrong place," Mom said. "Sorry, I used to know the name of that condition, it was a mile long."
"Hypospadius?"
"That's it," Mom answered.
After a few minutes of poking and prodding, she pressed her hand into my groin in a way that made me yelp. She apologized, and backed away.
"I need to get some blood work to be sure, but..."
"What is it?" Mom asked.
"Tracy's testicles have never descended. Has anyone ever noticed that?"
"No, but couldn't that make her sick?" Mom asked.
"Yes, at this age, it can. Also, Tracy has a vaginal canal," she looked at me, but I nodded to show that I understood.
"What?" Mom asked.
"If we were to open the scrotal sac, Tracy would look just like any other girl her age. In a few years, she could have sex like any other girl as well. There are a couple of reasons this could happen. The simplest is that she is a female. How long ago were her chromosomes tested?"
"When she was five," Mom answered. "I mean her looks were obvious from the time she was two, but it took that long to convince the military to do the test."
"I see, and did you see the pictures?"
"No, they called with the results."
"I remember," I said. "I was so hoping that I really was a girl then."
Dr. Richardson opened a drawer by the sink, pulled out a package and told me to open my mouth. She rubbed something on the inside of my cheeks. "This will take a couple of minutes. We do a lot of Sports Medicine here," she told Mom.
When she came back, she had several photographs with her.
"Somewhere along the line someone made a mistake," she said and held out the first picture. "This is a picture of both sets of chromosomes. On the left you see the XX pattern for a female, and on the right you see the XY pattern for a male."
The picture looked weird. I was not sure what I was expecting, but I could see the
difference.
"This is the sample I took from your cheek, Tracy. What do you think?"
I looked at the second picture, then at the other, and then back to mine. "But you said the XX was for a female.... I'm a girl?" I asked her almost in a whisper.
Mom took the picture, and shook her head. "There is no way anyone could mistake this. But they told us that she was male."
I sighed. "Maybe they were afraid to tell the General his little boy was a girl," I said. Then it hit me. "They lied to us. I'm a girl, and..." I broke down crying, not sure if I should be angry, happy, or just sad at the time I spent by myself in school after school because no one wanted to be near the freak. Mom put her hands on my shoulders, then hugged me.
"It's okay. It's okay, sweetheart. We can deal with this."
Dr. Richardson gave me a box of tissues. "Tracy?"
"Sorry -- sorry," I said. "I don't do that a lot."
"You will be doing it a lot more, I'm afraid," Mom said. "If that test is correct, Tracy is a female?"
"Correct," Dr. Richardson answered. "The reason her testicles didn't descend is that she doesn't have them. Right now, this is called the Androgynized Female Syndrome. Somewhere along the line, when you were carrying her, she got a larger than normal dose of male hormones, or there is a protein deficiency that can cause this as well. In either case, her labia closed over the vagina to make what looked to be a scrotal sac, and her clitoris grew larger than usual.
"I think we will need to do a full workup here, blood tests to determine her hormone levels, and a more accurate genetic workup, and we need pictures; an ultra sound, a CT scan and MRI, at the very least. We need to know exactly what is there."
"Do you think there is a chance that your test wasn't correct?" Mom asked her.
"No, but to prove all this to the insurance companies and the powers that be, we need to do the rest of the work."
"Okay, so I am a girl. What happens now?" I asked.
"After we get all the pictures and lab work back, you will need to see a surgeon at the very least and possibly an endocrinologist if your hormone levels need adjusting. Right now, I would say Tracy is starting a normal puberty, but the tests will let us know, for sure. After all of that, it will be a simple operation to cut open your scrotal sac and redo it to look like normal labial folds. After that heals, you would be able to shower with the other girls, and no one could tell."
"Thanks, doctor," I said quickly. "This is the best news that I have ever got."
"What if your test is off, and Tracy is still a boy?" Mom asked.
"That would mean this is a case of Testicular Feminization Syndrome. Tracy's testes, if they are there, are producing female hormones, which still means that Tracy would be going through puberty as a girl, only sterile. The operation would remove the testes as well, since this condition almost invariably leads to testicular cancer, which is deadly in a person her age."
"So, either way, I'd be a girl, right?"
"Right. If you are a genetic male, the endocrinologist would need to give you hormones. Now, that is probably not necessary."
"But as I understood it," Mom cut in. "She has to wait until she is eighteen, for the Benjamin Standards of Care?"
Dr. Richards nodded. "The Benjamin Standards do not apply in this case, since this is now a definite medical condition, not strictly psychological. I will start the paper work necessary to change her records -- birth and school from male to female and the secretary will do your referrals to the Specialists. I'll have a technician in here in a moment, to draw some blood."
"Rats," I said. "Do you really need the blood? I can handle getting the pictures."
"Yes, we really need it."
"Doctor, if Tracy had wanted to be a boy, could you do it?"
"Yes, but it would be much harder. His testes would still be removed, but even with years of testosterone therapy I doubt if he would be able to appear as more than a very feminine looking young man. His penis would never grow into anything more than a slightly overgrown clitoris and it would never be functional, for procreation purposes. He would probably grow a beard and develop a slightly more masculine figure.
"Now, for the paperwork, do you want to stay Traci -- with an 'I', or use a more feminine name?" she asked me.
"No, Traci's fine," I said. "And I can start wearing skirts and blouses to school?"
"Whatever the dress code for girls is, or there is a good girl's academy in town, if you want to start fresh?"
I nodded. "The boys in my class are already giving me a hard time about being a boy. Can I, Mom? St. Mary's is supposed to be good."
"That is a thought..." Mom said. "I'd have to check with your father, of course, but..."
"My suggestion would be to pull her from school now, and start her back again after all the tests and surgeries are over," Dr. Richards added.
"But what do we tell everyone now?" Mom asked.
"The easiest thing would be to tell them what they probably have guessed already; that Traci has always been a girl, but there was a mistake make when she was born that caused the confusion. I think people will believe that."
Mom nodded. "With a proper hair style and clothes, they won't have any choice."
I gave Mom a long hug, and then thanked the doctor, too. This was the best news I had had in my whole life.
When I got home, the first thing I did was call Brad. "Hi, guess what?"
"What?" he asked and I could hear him trying not to sigh.
"I'm a girl, the doctor said so."
"And? How long did it take them to figure this out?"
"They're doing some tests, but it's official. I may even go to St. Mary's."
"We're still on for the dance tomorrow?" he asked, almost hesitating.
"Yeah, unless you mind me being a girl, not a boy."
"I never believed you were a boy, for real, ever. We're on."
"This is the best news I have heard in ages," Dad told me as I hung up the phone. He gave me quick hug. "I am so happy for you, sweetheart. At least the medical profession has caught up with the painfully obvious. And this, at long last, may shut Carlton up."
"What's his problem?" I asked.
"Is he still on that -- 'we need to make Tracy more of a man' -- kick?" Mom cut in.
"The last time I talked to him, he was," Dad answered.
"Too late now," I said.
"I can appreciate the fact that your brother is in the marines, and that now everything has to be so black and white, but this news will take a lot of stress off him and us," Dad said.
He turned out to be wrong about that, but I didn't realize how wrong until after dinner that evening when I heard Mom talking to Carlton on the phone.
"...no, this isn't anything weird, sweetheart. The doctors made a mistake when your sister was born. ... I know you changed her diapers when she was a baby, but.... Okay, but don't get on her case over this. ... Carl wants to talk to you," she said and handed the phone over to me.
"Hey, big brother," I said. "Best news I could have had."
"What the hell are you doing there? How could you do this to me?"
"Huh?" I managed to blurt out. "I'm not doing anything to you. I really was born a girl, well, almost a girl, but now you don't have to worry about me dressing like a one anymore."
"Do you have any idea what that would do to me if it gets out?"
"So who's gonna tell?" I asked him. "Think Dad's gonna call your C.O. and ask him to spread the news around? Maybe my doctor will write this up for one of those medical magazines and she'll use my real name. Or maybe I can just call the news people myself, or those supermarket trash magazines. Or maybe I could get Dad to take a before and after picture of me for your Corps newspaper, the Marine Times. The only one that'll blab this is you, Carl. But what would you say?
"I know," I added. "You can tell everyone that you found out your little brother is really a girl, and you're mad because your folks will let him be a girl? No, that sounds too stupid, even for you. Or..." I said with a pause. "This is between me and my doctor, you know. It's my business and you could just keep your big, fat, ugly nose out of it."
"I'm making it my business."
"Why?" I demanded, almost screaming. "Cindy and Kelley were like 'it's about time', Roger was happy for me. So what's with you?"
"Because you're a boy, and I'm not going to let you turn yourself into some sort of -- thing."
"You take that back," I shouted, unable to stop the tears from falling. I heard a click as Dad picked up the extension.
"You are nothing but a thing," Carlton repeated. "You won't be a girl or a boy and I won't stand for it."
"The decision isn't yours to make, son," Dad cut in. "I won't have you talk that way to your sister, period."
"Dad, I told you to stop him before it was too late. I can do it. I know I can. In two weeks I can make Tracy a boy again."
"Oh, really?" I said.
"Why?" Dad asked. "Do you think someone could do the same thing to you and make you a girl in two weeks?"
"No. I'm a man."
"That's just the point, son. Traci was born a girl. There's nothing wrong with this, it happens, especially with a child that was conceived late. But she got the wrong hormones or something."
"But he's a boy," Carlton insisted. "I changed his diapers enough. I know what he is."
"And you are wrong, son. I changed her diapers, too. We found out today, that her equipment is female. There is nothing we could ever do to make her a functioning male and I am not going to ask her to spend her life as some sort of neuter to satisfy your narrow-minded sensibilities. I agree with Traci on this. This is between Traci and her doctor. Not you."
"Dad, if this ever got out I'd be laughed out of the Corps."
"Because your sister had a slight birth defect that needed to be fixed? This is no reflection on your masculinity, Heaven knows. Or is it? Carlton, is there something you need to tell me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you having your own issues about your gender identity? Is that why you're so hyper about Traci?"
"No," he almost yelled. "I'm not. I'm just thinking of what this can do for me if it gets out."
"Then I suggest you start thinking of what Traci has been through her whole life over this. I have always tried to teach you that a man is judged by his own merits and not by the actions of others. Whether or not Traci is a girl, or a boy, has nothing to do with the way you perform in the Marines. If your fellow jarheads think it does, tell them they will have to answer to me, not you. Then again, who is going to tell them about this, if not you?"
"Dad, I'm going to take leave. Promise me you won't let them do anything to Traci until I get there, okay?"
"This is no concern of yours, Carlton and I will make no such promise. Now, do I have to call your commander and make sure he doesn't grant you leave? I do not want you here, stressing your sister out, over this. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir. It is."
"See that you mean that." Dad hung up the phone, and I did the same.
"Thanks, Daddy," I ran over to him and gave him a hug.
"Daddy?" he asked.
"Sure, I've got to figure out if I'm going to be an ice princess like Cindy or hot like Kelly."
"This I don't need, Traci. It's not a decision you have to make in the foreseeable
future, okay?"
"Yes, sir," I said, and hurried out of the room.
8.
"Traci? Brad's here," Mom called from the front door. I checked myself in the mirror, still not quite believing what I saw. My hair was colored a lighter shade and curled. My dress -- gown rather -- was a pale green with matching shoes that looked so grown up.
"Traci, we will be leaving in about three minutes."
"I'm coming," I called back. The last things I checked were my new earrings, emerald studs that were perfect with my new hair color. I turned away from the mirror, opened the door of my bedroom and walked downstairs.
"Whoa!" Brad exclaimed as I made my entrance. "I didn't think you could look any better." He gave me an orchid and Mom pinned it on my sleeve.
"You look great, too," I said as we followed Mom and Dad to the car.
The dance was at the post gym. Even though Dad wasn't in uniform, the guards at the door stood at attention and saluted as we walked inside.
"You kids have fun," Mom said, a smile dancing in her eyes as she continued. "We aren't here to chaperone tonight, but don't forget that we are watching every single move you make."
"Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate that."
I felt, and Brad noticed it too, that every one was looking at us as we walked out onto the dance floor. At that point, I realized I didn't have any idea how to dance. First time for everything, I guessed, but watching some of the other kids moving on the floor I saw that neither did they, so it didn't matter.
After that, I remember the swirl of lights and the old fashioned music. I danced with a lot of boys, not just Brad, and he didn't seem to mind when the others cut in on him.
"Here, I got you some punch, if you want to sit this one out," he told me about half way through the dance. When I nodded and smiled, he took my hand and led me off the floor.
"Thanks," I told him. We sat quietly just enjoying being with each other as we drank the punch.
"You want to get some fresh air?"
I said yes, before I remembered what he was really asking. I had seen enough scenes like this on TV, but I let him escort me outside, anyway. We walked for a while, not far from the gym, before he stopped and turned to face me.
"Tracy, I know..." he started to stammer. "I mean, you've never been on a date with anyone, but...I mean, I...God, you look so beautiful." With that, he kissed me, right on the lips. Awkward, clumsy, yes, but it was wonderful. He pulled back and looked at me, and I could see the question in his eyes.
"Why'd you stop?" I asked him. I reached up and kissed him right back.
I felt Brad relax as he slipped his arms around me and we kissed in earnest. I felt something else and it dawned on me how turned on he was. That had never been an issue for me, but I liked it so I kissed him again, harder.
I half gagged when he slipped his tongue into my mouth. That felt weird and I wasn't at all sure if I liked it. When we pulled back he gave me his warmest smile and offered his hand to lead me back to the dance. I guess he didn't notice and I certainly wasn't going to tell him.
After the dance, Brad offered to walk me home, rather than getting a ride from my parents or his. Dad agreed, and we left the gym, hand in hand, walking slowly.
"They aren't worried?" Brad asked me, looking back.
"No. I think they can trust you, and besides, there's a panic button built into my cell phone. The cops would be here in seconds to protect me from you."
"That's a good idea, but what if I need them to protect me from you?"
"You're plain out of luck," I told him.
==========
The next couple of weeks buzzed as I was shuttled from one specialist to another. Dad must have taken my crack about being an ice princess seriously, because he insisted I go back to the public school, not St. Mary's, to learn to be a normal girl. Mom took me to the office, and without any brass bands or fireworks, they made the change from M to F on my records, and that was it. The lady handed Mom a dress code for girls, and they changed my schedule around so that the kids in my new classes and homeroom would be getting a new girl, not just me again.
My first day back went just like my first day there, except Brad was there to join me for lunch. He brought his two buddies over as well. Bobby cleared his throat a couple of times, but finally apologized.
"Sorry, Traci, we heard it from everyone, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. Okay."
"That goes for me, too. Sorry," Tom said and hurried away.
"So, how are you doing?" Brad asked as soon as the others left.
"Good, I guess. The surgery was a lot harder on me than I thought, but it's my whole life."
"It's okay, I don't want to hear about it," he said, looking panicked.
I sighed and shook my head. "It's not gross or anything, but okay. I have to take shots like once a week and pills every day, but other than that, nothing."
"It's not nothing to you, or to me, either," he said. There was nothing more to do or say. We ate lunch in happy silence.
9.
In short order, I graduated from the training bra to an 'A' cup and my hips started to get rounder. By Halloween, I looked about as developed as the other girls in my class. I felt great about myself and I also started to make girlfriends for the first time in my life. I wasn't the cheerleader type, although a couple of the girls did ask if I wanted to try out and I was not the snooty rich girl type either, so I didn't fit in with the elite crowd.
Mom taught me how to use makeup and I could wear a little on the weekends when I went out with Brad, or when I had my first sleepover at Shelly's house. Everything would have been fine, except my eldest brother took leave about a week before Thanksgiving.
I walked into the house from school, tossed my books on the table for the weekend and called out, "Hi, I'm home."
No answer.
I found Mom and Carlton in the living room staring at each other. He turned to stare at me.
"You wore that to school?" he demanded, and pointed at my dress, a pale yellow one and not one of my prettiest outfits.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking. And no, I went naked and put this one on when I got home." I spun around. "You like it?"
"You're a boy, and it's about time you started to act like one. What are you wearing on your chest, falsies?"
"What an idiot. No, I don't need a padded bra, Carly. This is all me. You had better get used to it, too, because I'm not going to have them cut off, either."
"They don't give hormones to someone your age. I don't believe it."
"Carlton," Mom said slowly, "Traci is a girl, medically and physically. I don't know what it is going to take for you to realize that, but it's true. I am not going to ask her to undress in front of you to prove it, but if you won't believe me, or your father, or even her birth certificate, I am going to ask you to be quiet about it. You are free to think whatever you like, but you are not going to spoil this holiday for us with all this talk of trying to make Traci a boy. She never was a boy, and never will be a boy. It's as simple as that. If you do decide to make this an issue I will ask you to leave this house and you will not be welcome back until you can hold your tongue. Is that clear?"
"Mother, I am twenty-six years old. You can't just treat me like a kid, again."
"No, I never said that, son. You are an adult and a guest in our house. I expect you to remember that. If you continue to behave like this, Carlton, you will be asked to leave as an unwelcome guest. Is that clear?"
He glared at me, but didn't say anything as the doorbell rang. I ran to get the door. "Brad, great. Let's go somewhere."
"What?" he asked. "What's the matter?"
"My big brother, Carlton, the world class creep is here. Before he makes another scene, let's split."
"Traci? What is it?" Mom called out.
"It's Brad, Mom. We're catching the bus to the mall. We'll have dinner there and I'll be back late. It's Friday, remember?"
"Wait a second," Brad said and tried to walk inside. "I wanted to ask your brother about the marines."
"Now isn't the best time," I whispered as I heard Carlton ask Mom who the hell Brad was.
"He's a boy in Traci's class and they've been going out together this year. He's very nice."
"Traci's going out with a boy? What is he, some sort of fairy?"
Brad flushed a bright red. "I see what you mean. Okay, we're like so out of here."
"Just a second," Carlton shouted, hurrying to catch us before I had the chance to close the door. "Where do you think you're going?"
"None of your business, big brother," I said quickly. "Brad, this is Carlton, my brother and a first lieutenant in the Marines. Carlton, this is Brad, his dad's the First Sergeant at B Company. There, bye."
"Your father is in the army?" Carlton asked.
"Sure is," Brad said. "Nice meeting you, dude, but I'm taking your sister to the movies. Bye."
"That's my brother," Carlton said. "I don't care what he's dressed up as, but that's a boy."
"Man, when Traci said you were a world class creep I should have believed her. I'm not getting in the middle of this. My folks like Traci, I like her. I'd tell you where to go and what to do when you get there, but there are ladies here."
"You little punk," Carlton growled and made a fist. Brad pushed me out of the way.
"What's the matter, you jarhead? Can't take it, huh?" Brad stuck out his tongue at my brother. "Some kid calls you names and you go ballistic. What a moron. What a clown. And you call yourself a marine."
"Carlton," Mom said from behind. "You lay one hand on that boy and I will have you charged with child abuse. He's what, half your size?"
"Let's go, Brad," I said. I took his hand, locked fingers and pulled him away. I think Carlton knew better then, to say anything else.
After the movie, we rode the shuttle back to post. Brad's father waited in the car for us. Brad walked over to the driver's window.
"Dad?"
"Get in, both of you. I want to talk to you."
"I'm taking Traci home. Couldn't this wait until tomorrow morning?"
"No, it can't."
Brad shrugged and opened the back door for me. Then, he climbed in after me. Mr. Johnson waited until we buckled the seat belts before driving away from the bus stop.
"Where are we going?" Brad asked
"Somewhere where we can talk about this -- thing you're going out with."
"Dad," Brad said horrified. "How can you talk like that?"
This did not sound good. As Mr. Johnson drove off post, I fumbled in my purse for my cell phone. Brad saw the motion, but didn't say anything. I didn't push the button, though.
"It's about time we got this straight, Brad. That creature back there isn't a girl. That's a boy in drag and the more you go out with it, the more of a fairy you're becoming. I won't have it."
"I'm a girl, Mr. Johnson. I don't care what my brother must have told you. There was a mistake made when I was born and it was fixed. That's all. You've been over to my house, right? You've had dinner with Mom and Dad and we've had dinner with you guys. My Dad wouldn't let me dress up like this if I really was a boy. Come on. Please, take us home. You could always talk to my Mom or my Dad. They will tell you what's going on with me. My brother doesn't know anything and doesn't want to know anything either."
"I'm not going to let you make my son into a pansy like yourself, Traci -- or whatever your name really is. We're going to get this straight, once and for all."
He pulled into an old, fifties-style motel. I pushed the button on my cell phone and let it connect to 911. "'The Green River Motel.'" I read the sign into the phone.
"Dad," Brad said, loud enough for his voice to be heard. "It doesn't matter what Traci is, a boy or a girl. She's still just a little kid and if you do anything to her that's child abuse. Her dad will bust you down to private for this."
"You shut up," Mr. Johnson said, "or you will wish you had."
"Touch me and I'm telling Mom."
"Oh, God, you are turning into such a wuss. There, room 112. Get out and go into the room. Don't make me drag you."
I climbed out of the car, but Brad didn't. Mr. Johnson grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out. He flung Brad over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carried his son, screaming and kicking into the room.
"This is Traci Williamson, please help me, this is getting ugly," I said into the phone as I walked into the room after the others.
Sure enough, Carlton sat on the bed watching TV.
I took one look at my brother and blurted out, "Mom and Dad are going to kill you for this. Call this off before someone gets hurt, or you both go to jail."
"I've had it with you, mister," he told me. "For twelve years I have begged Mom and Dad to stop letting you get away with this. I told them I'd make you a boy and I intend to do it. It's bad enough that they let you dress up, but I'm not about to let you do this to other kids."
"Boy are you a World-Class Jerk," Brad snarled. "You don't know anything."
With a crack, Mr. Johnson hit Brad across the face. "You shut up and sit down."
Brad rubbed his jaw and glared at his father.
"I won't have my son turning into some flaming faggot like that thing."
"Dad," Brad said slowly. "Can you really look at her and tell me that Traci is a boy?"
"It's all a fake," Carlton interrupted. "Okay, so his face has always been that pretty, but the rest of it is faked."
"Do you know what he looks like without clothes on?" Mr. Johnson demanded.
"No," Brad said. "I'm going out with her, Dad. I'm not sleeping with her. For Pete's sake, she's not ready and I'm not either."
"Carlton, you're my brother. We can discuss this whole boy-girl thing later, but I'm asking you to take me home because we are family and that's all that should matter. Or, if you won't do it, don't stop me when I go outside to call Mom to pick Brad and me up."
"No, not anymore. You're staying here if I have to tie you to that chair. We're going to have it out, now," Carlton said.
"I'm a girl. I've always been a girl and the doctor proved it. What you saw when you changed my diapers was a mistake that's been corrected and the rest is between my doctor and me. Who I am isn't something that you can change and it's not something you're responsible for."
"You're a freaking boy and I'm going to prove it. Take off your dress."
"I won't," I said. "If you and Brad's father want a strip show I bet you can find one, but it won't be me. You got cameras in here for kiddy porn? You're gonna try and take pictures of me and Brad?"
He slapped me across the face. Brad jumped up only to be thrown back into his seat by his dad. Mr. Johnson tied Brad's arms behind the chair.
"That's enough out of you, young man. Now, pay attention." Mr. Johnson told Brad.
"Don't do anything stupid, Dad," Brad begged, crying.
"I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect you from that faggot. No one is going to turn you into a queer."
"It doesn't work like that. Couldn't you just tell her to stay away from me?"
"I couldn't trust you to honor that, Brad. We're going to prove what she is."
"I don't care if she's got a dick bigger than mine, Dad. She's my girlfriend and she's going to be my girlfriend no matter what. I don't need to see her naked, not like this. And it's against the law for you to see her naked. I...."
Mr. Johnson slammed his fist into Brad's face. "Shut up. Just shut up about this."
"Never say anything like that again," Carlton told me.
"What am I supposed to think? I watch the news. Brad's thirteen and I'm twelve and you've got us in this motel room and you want me to take off my clothes? Doesn't matter if I'm a boy or a girl, that will get you sent to jail, you know. Both of you."
Carlton grabbed my by the arms, spun me around so that I faced Mr. Johnson. "If you won't take that dress off, we will."
"To hell with it," Mr. Johnson said. "See what you've been going out with." He walked over to me and yanked at my dress until the straps broke. He pulled the torn garment down, then tore off my bra. "What the hell?"
"Keep your hands off me," I screamed as loud as I could.
"They're fake. Dad must have paid a bundle for those."
Mr. Johnson took my breasts in his hands and lifted them up. "No scars -- nothing, Lieutenant."
"Take the rest of it off. You'll see."
Johnson pulled the ruins of my dress off me, and then pulled down my panties. "Holy Mother of God, she's a girl."
"No, they don't do that kind of operation on kids," Carlton said and turned me around.
"Go ahead, take a good look, you slime bag," I told my brother.
He spun me around. Mr. Johnson poked at my crotch. "She's a virgin, too."
"What do you mean?" Carlton asked.
"Her cherry's not popped. What do you think I meant? That's not a boy, you stupid bastard. Your father is going to bust me down to E-nothing. And guess who is going to lose his commission over this, too."
"No. I'm telling you, there's something wrong. That isn't a hymen and that isn't a real vagina. It can't be. They haven't done the operation, at least all of it. I'll show you."
I screamed again when Carlton tried to press his finger inside me.
Someone pounded on the door. "Police, open up."
"Now see what you've done?" Carlton demanded. "Stop that screaming and let me handle this." He half threw me to the floor and went to stand by the door. "Everything is fine here. No problems. We don't need any help."
The door crashed open. Two civilian policemen and one military cop pushed into the room with guns drawn. Behind them, a policewoman came in and knelt beside me.
"Are you okay, sweetie?"
Tears rolled freely down my cheeks as she pulled a blanket from the bed and covered me up. I shook my head.
"There's an ambulance on the way. Looks like we need to get both kids to the ER. The boy's been battered and there was at least an attempted rape on the girl."
"Look, officers, I know this looks bad, but we didn't do anything wrong here. Traci, there is my little brother. We didn't hurt him."
"Those are some nasty red marks on his face, for someone who didn't hurt him, mister, and I guess you were just playing dolls with the young lady?"
"No, that isn't a girl. Not really, that's my brother."
"Sweetie," the lady asked me. "Did either of these men touch you?"
I nodded. "Both of them."
"Did they hurt you?"
I nodded again.
"Okay, save the rest for the judge. Both of you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..." One of the officers said.
"Brad, I'm sorry," Mr. Johnson said, as the other man untied the boy from his chair. "I should have believed you and my own eyes, not that..."
Brad rubbed his hands and glared at his father for a second before hurrying over to me. "Are you okay, Traci?"
"I will be," I said and reached for him. He gave me a long hug and kissed the top of my head. He said nothing as his father and my brother were taken from the room.
"My dad just threw twenty-five years in the Army down the toilet," Brad said. "He thought he was doing it for me."
"I don't know what to say. I'll tell them he didn't do anything to me, really, Carlton did the worst of it. This was his idea not your Dad's."
"Don't worry about it now, sweetie. We need to get both of you to the hospital and then get your statements."
10.
The ride to the ER took just short of forever. Mom was there, waiting for us. She took one shocked look at Brad and hugged tightly him before turning to me. There were tears in her eyes.
"Are you okay?"
"Brad's the one that was hurt. I was embarrassed and manhandled, but I'm okay. What's going to happen?"
"We will talk about that after the doctors check you both out. I don't want either one of you stressed out over this more than you already are."
"Thanks, Mom," I said, and looked over at Brad. At least, they let us stay together, on different stretchers, but together.
A nurse led Mrs. Johnson back to the treatment room. She looked down at Brad for a moment, then turned to me. "You little hussy. What have you been doing to my son and my husband?"
"Me?" I asked. "I didn't do anything."
"It's not like that at all, Mom," Brad cut in. "Really. This was all Dad's and Traci's brother's idea. They were the ones that did this. We just paid for it."
"Please, Helen," Mom said. "This is not the time to start hurling insults, especially at the kids. My son Carlton, it would seem, is the one primarily to blame for this, but your husband did go along with it. The kids have had a harrowing experience and they do need to be checked out."
"Dad did this," Brad said pointing to his face. "That was his idea and only his. Carlton didn't put him up to it. Whatever Dad did to Traci, that's what Carlton did."
"Your father gave me a long, song and dance then, telling me how none of this was his fault and that Traci all but tried to seduce him."
"Should have known," Brad said. "I was feeling sorry for him, too. Both Traci and I talked until we were blue to try and stop him from doing anything."
"Brad," the nurse said, "They're ready for you in X-Ray."
"Nothing feels broken," he said.
"Which is a good thing, but that has to hurt." He nodded. "We need to check it out, that's all. We will bring him right back." They wheeled him out with his Mom following.
"Traci? Hi," Dr. Richardson said as she entered the room. "Sorry it took me so long to get here."
"It's okay," I said. "Hi, I'm really glad to see you."
"What happened?"
I told her. We talked for a while as she did a full exam. When it was over, she turned to my Mom.
"Other than getting slapped around by your son, there isn't anything wrong physically. I can give you the name of a good counselor for this."
Mom looked at me and I nodded. "Thanks, doctor. I hope this is something that she can put behind her quickly," Mom said.
A nurse showed Dad into the room. His face looked ashen gray as he looked at me. "How are you?"
"Okay, really. It's Brad that was hurt."
"So I heard. I've heard several different stories from your brother, and Brad's father about this and I would like to hear it from you, although I understand the police have everything on tape?"
"I called 911 as soon as I thought things might go wrong."
"I've always said you had a good head on your shoulders, sweetheart," Dad said. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything?" he added as an apology to Dr. Richardson.
She shook her head as I told my story again.
"Traci," Dad said softly as I finished. "It's always been my policy never to take the side of one of my kids over another and this is hard for me. What Carlton did to you was unconscionable. I have no choice to stand with you through this and let them prosecute your brother to the full extent of the law."
"I don't understand it, Dad. I really don't."
"Neither do I, and I'm afraid we may never get the real story from him. He's been obsessing over this for years, and I don't know if there is any way we can make him stop this, except by sending him to jail. Now both he and the first sergeant are blaming all this on you kids now, both of you, for doing this to them. Where is Brad?"
"Still getting x-rayed," Mom cut in.
"Will Traci spend the night here, or at home?" Dad asked.
"There's no need to keep her here. I'm sure she wants to wait for her friend, but after that she can go."
I nodded.
A nurse wheeled Brad back to the room in the ER. His mother followed with an envelope of x-rays in her hand. Dr. Richardson took them and walked out. She came back a minute later, and gave Brad's face a full going over.
"Looks like your nose is broken, here," she said, "but there was no other real damage. Your face will be swollen for some time to come."
"How long will he be here?" Mrs. Johnson asked.
"A couple of days. They will need to bandage the nose and take more extensive x-rays to make sure we didn't miss anything."
Brad looked over at me. "Looks like I'm not Mr. Perfect anymore."
"You always will be for me," I told him. Mom and Mrs. Johnson laughed, but I didn't get it.
11.
"Hi," Brad said on the phone. The day before Thanksgiving was always a busy time for us, I helped Mom out in the kitchen, Cindy and Kelly were due home that evening and Roger would get in the next morning.
"Hi, yourself," I said and paused. "I something wrong?"
"Yeah, Mom said I can't see you anymore."
"What?" I asked him, shocked. "What happened?"
"Dad won't be home tomorrow and she blames you for it. You know, grown ups. I mean I can see you at school, but nothing else."
"That's really nasty," I answered him. "Would it help if I got Mom to talk to her?"
"Don't know. It couldn't hurt. Anything. Look, Traci, if I can't see you after school, you know, even go to the mall again, I am going to go crazy."
"Me, too," I admitted. "Okay, I'll get Mom to call your Mom when she can. Maybe when my sisters get here."
That really sucked, I thought as I hung up the phone. It wasn't my fault, but now Mrs. Johnson was blaming me, again.
"What's the matter?" Mom asked. I told her and burst into tears.
"I'll call. I'll call. Let's just finish this and I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks, Mom," I said and hugged her.
The doorbell rang. "Would you get that Traci?" Mom asked me with her hands buried in flour.
"Sure," I said and glanced at my watch. It was too early for Cindy to get in and I picked up my purse as I walked to the door with flutters in my stomach. I peeked outside through the window, first, then the peephole, but I didn't see anyone. Brad? I opened the door. No one was there, and I relaxed for a second. Probably some Post kids. I glanced both ways on the step and started to close the door when it happened. Someone grabbed me, yanked me off the porch before I had a chance to call out to Mom and dragged me toward a car.
I struggled as hard as I could and twisted until I could look up into my brother's face. "Let go of me, Carlton," I yelled out as loud as I could. "Aren't you in enough trouble? What are you doing here?"
"Get in and you won't get hurt," he said pushing me toward the passenger door of the car. "Go on."
I opened the door, climbed inside and reached inside my purse for my cell phone as he climbed in behind the wheel. I pushed the button.
"What do you think your doing?" I demanded. "You're supposed to be in jail."
"I made bail, no thanks to Dad. He wouldn't get me a lawyer, or lift a finger for me. He does everything for you, his precious little girl, but not one penny for me."
"You molested me, you pervert. What do you expect? You're gonna lose your commission, Carly. And this isn't going to help your case, you know. What do you want now?"
"Shut up. I'm going to settle this once and for all."
"Oh right, now you're gonna finish the job and rape me. Sure, why not. You won't get away with this, you know."
"I'm not going to touch you." He drove away from the house, with a squeal of tires. Turning toward the back of the installation, he drove for about fifteen minutes until we pulled up in front of a dilapidated wooden shack. "Go on. Get out."
"You sure that place is safe? It doesn't look like anyone's been here for a hundred years. What is this about?"
"Go inside and I'll tell you."
He pushed me inside, closed and bolted the door behind us, and led me to a table in the center of the hut. He set a large portfolio down on the table and took out a ream of photographs. My mouth dropped open and I probably drooled I was so stunned to see that all of the pictures were of me -- naked.
"What the hell is that? I was right about the kiddy porn. My God, you put those pictures on the Internet? What? Who's seen them?"
"No one's seen them, except me. I took them and I developed them. Now, tell me," he said and pointed to the top one. "What are you, a boy or a girl?"
The picture looked as if it had been taken during the summer. I took a good look at myself, and laughed. "Okay, bro, you look at that picture and tell me what's missing. Go on, take a good look yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"Look at my crotch, you freak. What's not there?"
"What are you talking about?" he asked frowning as he looked at the picture.
"No balls. Take a good look, brother dearest, I don't have any nuts. Never did have them, either. Go ahead, tell me that sac has anything in it."
He paused, opened his mouth a couple of times and looked at several other pictures. He looked at me.
"Now," I said, following up on my advantage. "See that dent? That one right there?" I asked him as I pointed to the first picture. "That's where my vagina is. When I was a baby inside Mom, the skin closed over my vagina cause I got the wrong hormones or something."
His whole body slumped down over the table. "You're a girl."
"Bingo, give the dork a door prize. Now can we go home? Come on, Carlton, take me home now, drop me off and I won't say one word about this to anyone, promise."
"You're a frigging girl," he shouted out. "God, all those years. All those years I flogged myself for wanting you because you were a boy. You were a girl. I wasn't gay at all."
"Come on, Carly, don't say things like that. Remember, I'm your sister, so don't get all gross on me."
"Do you have any idea what it was like for me? Growing up with you in the house? You are the most beautiful girl in the world and I wanted you. God, I wanted you. And the only thing that stopped me was the fact that you were a boy. Why do you think I took all those pictures? Just to keep reminding me that you were a boy. You had to be a boy. And all this time you were a girl?"
I backed away from him. "Yeah, that's about it. Everyone else knew that years and years ago. So that's why you didn't want me acting like a girl. I can see I now. The more of a boy I was, the more you didn't think about me. Well, sorry, bro, but I can't change who and what I am anymore than you can. I'm a girl. I've known that all my life and so have Mom and Dad. So, don't think about it anymore, take me home and don't say a word about this to anyone."
"I can't. I can't stop thinking about it. Why do you think I brought you out here to the middle of nowhere? The cops won't find us here and you can scream all you want."
"You think?" I said, and laughed. "See this bracelet?" I pulled up my sleeve. "It's a tracking device," I lied through my teeth to keep his thoughts away from my purse. "The cops can trace me, no matter where I am and guess who didn't even say goodbye to Mom when we left. She knows what things are like, even on post, and the second she calls for help, they're here."
"I can just take that bracelet for a ride, Traci. Dump it out the window, and come back here, you know. Thanks for warning me. Is that how they found us the last time?"
"You are an idiot," I said as I heard several engines pull up outside. "Guess what, Carly, we have company."
"Shit," he said and glanced out the window. "The cops are here. You keep your mouth closed."
"Carlton Williamson, this is the military police. Send out the girl, then come out here with your hands up."
"You'd better do what they say," I told my brother. "You're the one they're gonna catch with all those pictures. Don't make it harder on yourself than you have to."
"Holy shit," he said and glanced at the table.
"Last warning, Williamson, come out now."
"I have a weapon and I will use it," Carlton called back. "You stand back, and away from my car, or my sister will die. You got that, soldier?"
"Don't be stupid, Lieutenant," the cop called back.
"I am going to take my sister for a ride. You will not follow me. I will drop her off somewhere that she can find a phone and call for help. Then, I will be out of here. Is that clear? Don't make me shoot her."
"Carlton, don't be stupid. I'm too short to make a good shield. They'll shoot your head off, with me there or not. Where's your gun? I'm gonna take it outside, now."
"Listen to her," the cop called back. "Hand over your weapon, Williamson and you won't get hurt."
"I don't have one," he admitted, quietly. "I was bluffing them. I told you to keep your mouth closed, but that doesn't mean I couldn't snap your neck for you. I don't need bullets to kill."
"Oh, big, brave Marine, huh?" I laughed at him. "It's over for me, you get an injection and it's over for you too. Mom and Dad lose two kids. God, you are sick. He doesn't have a gun," I called out. With that, I walked over to the door, and unbolted it. I looked back at him, and shook my head. "There are ways to deal with stuff like this, Carly, but you -- you let it get to you. I hope you see a shrink while you're in jail."
"Don't go out there."
"Why not? You're gonna threaten me again?"
An MP pulled the door off its hinges. Someone grabbed me and carried me outside, while the others forced their way inside.
"Oh, my God," I heard someone say from inside. "Looks like we've got a kiddy pornographer. Don't say anything, Williamson, you have the right to remain silent...."
==========
"Are you okay, sweetie?" a lady asked me.
"Yeah, I'm just glad you got here so fast. That was great."
"Just hang on to that phone," she told me.
They brought Carlton out, in handcuffs. He glared at me. "This is all your fault," he said.
"You really believe that, don't you?" I asked him.
"Damn right, you little tramp. I never want to see you again."
I shook my head. "Don't worry, I don't think you will have that option for a long time. Believe me, I'm not gonna visit you in jail."
The lady pushed me toward a car and I got the message. "Did he hurt you?"
"Not this time," I said. "I just want to go home."
"We will need a statement from you, Traci, but we can do that at home. You're parents are waiting for you."
==========
Mom, Brad and Mrs. Johnson waited for us on the front porch. I hesitated before I approached Brad to closely. He gave me a huge smile, then stepped forward and hugged me before Mom had the chance.
"It's okay," he said.
"Traci, I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," Mrs. Johnson said, then hugged me. "I know you aren't to blame for any of this, my husband is, and your brother, but I guess I needed to take it out on someone. I can't believe that either of them did this."
"I know. Mom, is Dad home?"
"Not now, why?"
"I think he'd better hear this from me before he gets it from the cops."
"He knows that Carlton snatched you, again, today."
"No, I meant about the pictures," I answered.
"What pictures?"
I took in a deep breath, and said, "Carlton's been taking pictures of me -- you know -- naked for years and years. I didn't know. Really. He must have hidden a camera in the bathroom back home, or something, but he had a hundred at least."
"Oh, yeah?" Brad asked.
"Don't get ideas," I told him, trying not to laugh.
"I see. And?" Mom asked me.
"And he showed them to me, today, and the cops found them, too."
She put her hands to her face. I broke free from the others and went over to her. "Do you want to sit down?"
"No, but this so much worse than I thought. I had better call your father."
With perfect timing, my two older sisters pulled up, in Cindy's car. They both hopped out, slammed the doors closed and laughed about something as they strolled up the walkway, until they saw the expression, I think, on everyone else's faces.
"What happened?" Kelly asked first.
"Carlton did it again," I said. "Talk to Mom, when she gets off the phone with Dad. Oh, this is Brad and his Mom, Mrs. Johnson. My sisters, Cindy, the really old one, and Kelly."
"I'll get you for that, sis," Cindy said sweetly. "You do look great, though."
"We're having Thanksgiving over here," Brad told me when he had a chance. "Your Mom and Dad invited us, since my Dad isn't going to be home."
"I know, it's gonna be weird without Carlton, too. Look, Brad, if I had any say in this I'd let your Dad go."
He nodded his head. "I know. Don't feel sorry for him for being stupid; he didn't feel sorry for you."
==========
In spite of everything, everyone agreed that Thanksgiving dinner was perfect. Kelly and Cindy cleared away the dishes giving me a chance to sit with Brad in the living room.
"You really do make such a cute couple," Mrs. Johnson said as she joined us. Brad blushed a bright red.
"I'm just thankful that I've got a friend -- like Brad. He's been so great since school started." That made him blush deeper.
"Yeah, but you're my girl."
I laughed and nodded. "This has been so strange," I said as Mom and Dad came out. "I mean I was used to the thought of being a boy, although I hated it, and I could never thank Dr. Richardson enough for finding out the truth."
"Neither can we," Mom commented and Brad nodded. "I think everyone is thankful that nothing really bad happened here."
"And, because of the extenuating circumstances in the first instance, Brad's father will probably be let off with a major slap on the wrist, but no jail time. I wish I could say the same for Carlton." Dad added.
"What is going to happen to Carlton," Roger asked.
"Those pictures he took of Traci growing up, I'm afraid, will hang him. They have him now on two charges of attempted rape, kidnapping, child abuse, and any thing else they can think of. He's being held on no bail, this time, and all of those charges could mean up to forty years; forty years because your brother thought with his crotch, not his head. Sorry, I don't mean to offend, but I can't believe how stupid he was."
"I know, Dad," I said. "But think about it this way. Jail is probably the best place for him, right now, and it's not like you lost a son, you did gain a daughter."
The Everchanging Gift
by Andy Hollis
"He could be anything with a thought -- but was he ready for the power?"
Billy Preston had no reason to notice the man in the blue suit. He did, however, notice the man's souped up, candy-apple red mustang parking next to his mother's blue station wagon, but the McDonald's parking lot was busy.
"Put your eyes back in your head," Mrs. Preston said tugging on the boy's shoulder. Billy ran ahead to open the door for her. "That's my angel," she said as Billy held the door for the man in the blue suit as well.
"Thanks," the man said with a gruff voice.
Billy shrugged, and trotted over to join his mother in line as the smell of frying hamburgers made his stomach gurgle. With only one teenaged girl tending the counter, no warning bells went off in Billy's head as the man took a place directly behind him. No icy chills ran down his spine, and if anyone had told him that the man behind him had the power to drastically change his life he would have laughed.
Who would bother with Mr. Average? Here he was, a month past his twelfth birthday; someone who could never stand out in a crowd. He hated school and athletics equally and most of his teachers wouldn't notice him to call on him if he was in the room by himself. He liked it that way.
Just as he decided that he wanted a Big Mac ®, his mother stepped up to the counter and ordered for both of them. "But that's not what I wanted." Billy hated the whiney sound of his own voice just then, but he couldn't help being upset.
"It will have to do," Mrs. Preston said and reached into her purse for her wallet. The girl gathered the food, and a chocolate shake. Billy reached for the tray as his mother paid the bill. "Be careful with that," she said quickly. "We don't need any more accidents today."
"I will," Billy said with the same whine. He turned to look for a table only to bump squarely into the man in the blue suit. A second later he watched, paralyzed, as his shake oozed down the suit coat onto the man's pants and shoes.
"Billy!" Mrs. Preston shrieked. "I told you to be careful. Oh, I am so sorry. He's just so clumsy."
"It's my fault entirely," the man said. "I was the one that crowded him. Think nothing of it." Billy tried his best to wipe up the mess with some napkins. "Oh, miss, get the boy another milkshake, on me."
"Thanks," Billy said as his mother took over clean up operations.
"Get some wet towels from the boy's room."
In due course the worst of the mess was removed from the man's suit. "I really am sorry," Billy said.
"Don't worry about it," the man said watching Mrs. Preston take her tray to a table. "But there is something..." Before Billy had the chance to flinch away, the man pressed his right thumb on Billy's forehead. "What are you doing?" Billy demanded as the skin under the thumb tingled then burned at the man's touch.
"Think of this as an early Christmas present, and I am Santa Claus," the man said with a laugh. "Just don't listen too hard to what people say about you."
Of all the luck, Billy thought hurrying to join his mother at the table, he had to get the weird one. He almost cried when he saw that his mother had already cut his cheeseburgers in half and had put the straw in his milkshake. "Mom, you don't have to treat me like a little kid, you know. I don't like my cheeseburgers cut."
"Well, sorry about that. Hurry up, now, we don't have all day."
Billy sighed as he took a sip of his milkshake. He picked up a cheeseburger half and turned it looking for the best angle for his first bite.
"And don't wolf your food either," Mrs. Preston demanded watching Billy eat.
"Mom, first you tell me to hurry and now I have to slow down?" He took another sip from his shake and frowned as his hands tingled. He wriggled his fingers, took another bite of burger and almost gagged at the sight of dark gray fur growing on his hands... Make that paws, he thought watching his fingers shrink. "Mom? Something weird's going on."
"Just finish your meal," she said without looking up.
With the fur spreading in waves up his arms, Billy mumbled something about the boy's room and bolted from the table. He bent over feeling his arms stretch toward the floor and pushed his way through the side door to the parking lot. Someone screamed as his forepaws touched the ground and his body shifted completely to that of a wolf cub. Billy bolted unaware that the man in the blue suit had followed him outside to watch his flight.
Panicked out of his mind, Billy ran for all he was worth, dodging people and cars until he skidded to a stop in a small park. He trotted along the outskirts of the green trying to keep some trees between himself and the people playing ball on the grass.
Two miles, he thought. He had just run two whole miles and he wasn't winded. He sat down on his haunches overwhelmed by the millions of scents picked up by his new nose. This is crazy, Billy thought as he looked around trying to adjust to the lack of colors. This couldn't be happening... He sniffed then pounced on a field mouse. Although the wolf enjoyed the snack, somewhere inside the boy wanted to throw up as his body gulped down the rodent.
He sniffed around again, picked out his own scent and headed back to the restaurant at a fast trot. Whatever had happened to him, whatever had made him turn into a wolf was at McDonald's and now that he could relax and think he intended to find out what that was.
Mom? He wondered. She had told him not to wolf his food, and a second later he started changing, but that was crazier still. Why would she want him to be a wolf? None of this made any sense.
He approached the back of the restaurant carefully through a fenced in alleyway. He poked his nose through the slats. Everything looked normal out front. The station wagon was still parked next to the Mustang, and people were coming and going...
"I take it you were wolfing your food?"
Billy spun around and growled at the man in the blue suit. He recognized the man more from the traces of chocolate he could smell on the suit than anything else. "What did you do to me?" Although all he heard was a series of growls and yips the man seemed to understand him.
"Do? I did nothing to you, young man. You are the shape changer." He scratched the top of Billy's head. "Not many people have the talent for magic these days."
"Magic?" Billy barked with a snort.
"Are you really going to stand there in your new fur coat, wagging your tail and tell me you do not believe in magic?"
"Uh... No," Billy said and turned to lick his shoulder. "What did happen to me?"
"We don't have time for a lengthy explanation right now. Let's just say that you were metamorphed by a metaphor." The man waited for a moment but the wolf's expression, while attentive, didn't change. "Well, I thought it was funny. You have the talent but not the control. Look at it like this, some people are musically gifted but they certainly couldn't play a note without years of lessons and practice. Just as you will not be able to control your changes without those same lessons and practice."
"That's not fair," Billy bristled at the thought.
"Relax. Here, you will need these," the man said and held out a collar and leash.
Billy growled low in his throat. "Not a chance, mister. I'm not a dog."
"No, but if someone saw you carrying on like that without some sort of control they may call you a dangerous wolf." He fastened the collar around the wolf's neck and snapped on the leash. "On the way I can tell you more about your talent."
"On the way where?" Billy demanded.
"A school for training talents such as yours. You have a very valuable gift."
Billy growled again and wrinkled his nose at the change in the man's scent. "You're lying to me. I'm not going anywhere with you, and I don't want to change into things. I just want to be me again." Without a tingle of warning, he found himself on his hands and knees. He straightened up at the waist and laughed as he held out his hands.
"It will be much easier with you in wolf's shape, or a dog's if you prefer."
"No," Billy said with a firm shake of his head. "I'm going to find my mom and go home." He stood up and tried to walk away until something pulled at his throat. The collar, he could feel the collar choking him although he could find nothing on his neck with his fingers.
"It's the same thing that happens to your clothes when you change to wolf. Now do you really want to be seen as a human boy walking on a leash?"
"No," Billy said and folded his arms across his chest. "I don't care about your collar or leash. You aren't my dad, and you can't tell me what to do. What would happen if I started screaming as loud as I could?"
"That would be a problem, but..."
From the other side of the fence, Billy heard his mother's voice calling him. For a second the thought he felt his ears prick, he turned to the fence. "Over here, Mom. I'll be right there," he said with the sensation that his tail had wagged too.
The man pointed his right hand at the back of Billy's head. He said a word that made the boy stiffen up as if he had turned Billy to wood. "Shape changing is only one aspect of Magic. I didn't want to use the others, but you didn't give me a choice. Relax, turn around and stand at my side."
Billy found his body moving without him. He followed the man's instructions exactly.
"There. As far as you are concerned, Billy, I am your best friend. You will go meet your mother and you will agree completely with everything that I tell her. Understood?"
Billy nodded, and tried to change into anything that would get him far away from there as well as the man's arm around his shoulder. But, he smiled, and walked back to the parking lot as if he really had found a new best friend.
Mrs. Preston's mouth opened slightly, then snapped shut as she recognized the man walking behind her son. She met the pair a few paces away from her station wagon. "I hope he hasn't been bothering you again, uh?"
"Phineas Jones," said the man in the blue suit. He bowed slightly, then pulled a white business card from his coat pocket. "As a matter of fact, Billy came over to apologize again, and from there we've had a marvelous conversation."
In spite of all his efforts, Billy found himself nodding to the man's words.
"That's my angel," Mrs. Preston said.
"I do hope that we haven't kept you waiting long," the man said and pulled Billy closer to his side. "But if you could spare another few minutes, there is something I would like to discuss with you. Could I buy you a cup of coffee inside? The parking lot is way too noisy."
"I suppose..." Mrs. Preston hesitated, but followed Jones back into the restaurant.
For the second time, Billy felt a tingle from his scalp down. He was changing again, but into what? He couldn't see anything obvious, but the fact that something was happening made him feel better. In fact, it made him feel completely at peace with himself and the rest of the world. It -took a minute, but Billy had to grin as he realized why he had changed.
As the man ordered and paid for the drinks, Billy quietly rubbed his neck. He unhooked the leash, took the collar off and stuffed it in his pants pocket. With a thought he made the leash stiffen as if his weight were still attached. After all, he narrowly missed one major scene in the McDonald's. He didn't want a second one. But then again he had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all since no earthly power could hold an angel.
Jones led the way to a table in the back of the restaurant. Mrs. Preston settled in across the table as Billy sat down next to the man. "As you can see from my card," Jones said and stirred his coffee, "I represent 'Talent Unlimited'. It's a new but very successful agency, and I must say that in all my years as a talent scout I have never run into anyone that has the same raw potential as Billy."
Mrs. Preston choked back a laugh. "Billy? My son? Talented?"
"He's a natural. I will admit he isn't as good looking as a lot of child stars, but he does have a fresh, open look that everyone will find appealing."
"I suppose so," Mrs. Preston said and gave her son a critical inspection. She laughed out loud this time. "It must be a trick of the light but I'd swear he has a halo."
"Yes," Jones said with a shrug. He went on to describe in great detail the kind of life he had in mind for the future star.
Billy listened, intrigued, at first, by the prospects, but underneath the man's statements he caught glimpses of images and snatches of the man's true thoughts. He would be a star all right, of dog food commercials. With his talent, Jones could supply an endless variety of highly trained, super intelligent animals for almost any price. Billy saw himself living in a string of cages and pens as the man grew rich.
As a human, Billy could be anything from a baby to a chorus girl, and if anyone stood in the way he could always turn into a deadly snake or scorpion and end the matter.
"I won't do it," Billy said in a calm, firm voice although the part of him that stayed human trembled with anger.
"Billy, don't interrupt," Mrs. Preston said with a loud sigh for the man's benefit.
"But Mom, he's a fake. He doesn't mean anything he says."
"That's enough of that, young man. I'm terribly sorry. Mr. Jones. Usually he isn't this rude."
"Don't worry about it," the man said. "He can't help being a kid." Jones spoke the word of control again, then resumed his conversation with Mrs. Preston.
"Your magic won't..." At the word "magic," Billy could see the spell Jones had used on his mother. He saw three lines white light wound around her head like snakes twining. He raised his right hand to break the spell.
"No, you cannot," said a voice in his thoughts.
"But he cast a spell at my Mom," Billy thought back, furiously.
"Yes, but as an angel you are not permitted to interfere in human actions."
"I've got to do something or my Mom will let this guy take me with him."
"You may," the voice said in gentle tones, "defend yourself."
Billy wanted to scream, but did manage to keep his mouth closed. He took in a deep breath and relaxed. "What's the use of having this power if I can't use it? I can't just let him..." He stopped in mid sentence wondering, with a bad taste in his mouth, just whom he might be arguing with. Who had the authority to control an angel? "Are you..."
"No, but the Almighty is always watching. My child, even angels need guidance from time to time and that is my function. I am fully aware of your position and that you did not become an angel by choice, but as long as you retain that form you must abide by the rules as do we all. Your 'talent scout' is in desperate need of guidance."
"I understand," Billy replied although guidance was the last thing he wanted to give the man. If he stayed an angel, he would be safe from the man's control but what price would he have to pay for that safety? Yet if he turned back to human what good would he be to anyone?
"Mr. Jones," Billy said tugging at the man's sleeve. "I've got to go to the boy's room."
"It can wait."
"No, it can't," Billy insisted. He really did need a chance to think without watching what was happening to his mother.
"Billy," Mrs. Preston said in a voice that left no room for argument. "Stop interrupting."
In due course, the man reached into his coat pocket and produced, as if by magic, a contract. As Jones explained it, the contract would make him Billy's legal guardian, and in return Jones and the agency would provide for Billy's welfare and education. Over Billy's protests, Mrs. Preston signed at the bottom.
Although Billy told himself over and over again that his mother was acting under a spell, the fact that she really had signed him away hurt.
"We do have a long trip ahead of us tonight," the man said and motioned Billy to stand up. He tore a copy of the contract from the original and passed it over the table to Mrs. Preston. "We will keep in constant touch."
"I can't believe all this is happening. Such a wonderful opportunity. I can't wait to tell Billy's father. Mark will be thrilled."
A dull ache settled in the bottom of Billy's stomach and stayed there. His mother walked them out into the parking lot and drove off without so much as a "good bye." He stood outside the Mustang wondering if angels were allowed to curse.
"As soon as we leave the parking lot, go back to wolf form, or better yet, be a German Shepherd."Billy nodded as he climbed inside the car. Deep inside the wolf did want to be free again. He held his breath. Now, at least he could use magic, in self-defense of course. With a thought, he cast his first spell. "Where are you taking me?" Billy asked as he fastened his seat belt.
"I haven't decided yet."
Billy settled into the car seat as the mustang's engine roared to life. As the man in the blue suit drove the car, he resisted the temptation to up and leave. He needed to give the man guidance, but how could he when he had no idea who Jones really was, or why the man was picking on him.
"You are learning, my boy," the voice whispered in his thoughts again. "Keep up the good work."
With a slight smile, Billy closed his eyes and read the man next to him. He almost choked when he found out that Phineas Jones was actually the man's name. Jones went by Finn, but had been known in his time as "Skinny Finny" and "Mickey Finn." Billy concentrated on a picture of Finn, at maybe eight years old, standing on a school yard with a bigger boy."
"But, Pete, I'm telling you that you could be a great ball player. I know it. All you have to do is try and we're going to be rich."
"Beat it, punk," Pete said threatening with a fist. "I don't want to hear this anymore."
"But all I have to do is this," Finn insisted and reached up to press his thumb on Pete's forehead. "Now we're set. You're going to be one of the best ball players ever, and I'm going to be your manager."
Pete grabbed the younger boy's arm. "Touch me again like that, Finny, and you're dead. You got that?"
"But that's what brings your talent out."
"Talent -- shit. Get lost and don't bother me with that again."
For the next few years, Billy watched through Finn's eyes as Peter really did become a great ball player. So much so that when Pete signed a multi-million contract with a pro team, Finn was there."
"What do you want here?" Pete demanded as Finn met him outside in the parking lot.
"My fair share, Pete. You've got it made now and I'm your manager."
"Like hell you are, punk. Oh, I know you've been bragging about me becoming a ball player since we were kids, but this is for real. I have a manager and he isn't you."
"But you owe me, Pete. I'm the one that brought your talent out."
"Bullshit. You said I had the talent to be a ball player, and you were right. I listened to you and I'm glad I did, but where were you when I spent all those years practicing and learning the game? My dad is the one that worked like a dog so that I could get somewhere in baseball, not you.
"Let's get this straight right now, Finny," Pete said tapping the smaller man's chest with his finger. "I don't owe you squat. But, for old time's sake, I'll talk to the manager about taking you on as a talent scout. You would be one of the best."
Broken and deflated, Jones turned down the offer and left the area. Yet, Billy saw the same thing happening over and over through Finn's life. There was Pete; a girl named Laura who had a talent for the violin, and others, but not one felt any gratitude to Finn. Then again he didn't make it easy either.
At that point, Billy saw the old man for the first time. This one, Hugh Atkins, he took the name from Finn's memory, had the kindest, wisest face he had ever seen. Yes, he thought, the man was still alive and living in -- Nebraska or something.
"I don't understand it, sir. I've brought so many people joy of their talents and not one of them is paying me back."
The old man smiled, and shook his head. "Finn, has it ever occurred to you that you can't use people like this? No one is ever placed on this earth, or given those talents for your use. No one is here to make you rich, and the more that you imply that they are -- that they owe you something -- the more you will drive them away."
"But they do owe me. It's my talent that makes theirs possible."
"No, it isn't. You do have a marvelous gift, but you will never get any joy of it as long as you see people as your own personal gold mine. Sit down, Finn. There is no need to run off if I tell you things you do not wish to hear. Your problem is simple. You're a greedy son of a bitch, and it shows all over your face whenever you talk about those kids you've helped. They can see it too."
"No, it isn't fair."
"You're wrong, Finn, so very wrong. You will never be able to use your gifts until you figure that out. I can teach you the fundamentals of magic, but you would be much better taking a job in a talent agency when you finish school."
"No. That's not for me."
Then, much later in Finn's life, Billy saw him as a grown up again, run into Hugh's office.
"This is it, Hugh. I need help. All you can give me. Money, power, anything."
"Slow down. Finn. Tell me what happened."
"There's a boy -- I don't know where he is yet, but I've sensed him for a while now. He has a talent for magic so much greater than mine or even yours. He's a shape changer."
"Are you certain of this?"
"As of anything, Hugh. At last, with this boy I will show them all. I will finally show every one of those bastards who screwed me over. This boy is going to..."
"Finn, will you listen to yourself? This boy is going to do nothing of the sort. If he is truly a shifter..."
"You taught me the words of power. I can control him, Hugh, I know it -- and then I will finally be on top of the world. There is nothing I couldn't do with that boy."
"Go, leave me and never come back. You still haven't learned after all these years, Finn. This boy is not something you can use like that. Even with the word of control ... if you lose him even for a second that will be it, and you will be dead."
"I don't need you, old man. I will find this boy even if takes everything I have, and then we will see... Yes, we will see about that word of control."
So, Billy thought, this man has been looking for me and dreaming about me for years, and I have to disappoint him like all of the others. But...
Billy leaned back in his seat and took in several deep breaths. With a thought, he projected himself across the country until a part of himself stood in Hugh Atkin's office, while the rest of him slept the Finn's car.
"Hello?" Billy said as the old man entered the room. "I..."
Atkins focused his gazed on Billy, and turned pale at the sight of the apparition. "You have come, at last. I certainly didn't expect you to look like that. So young, for what you have to do."
"What do I have to do?"
Atkins sighed. "You are the angel, not me. I have lived a good life, and I have no wish to end it, but I suppose we have no choice?
Billy shook his head. "I'm not sure what you're getting at, sir. Hi, my name is Billy Preston. I'm twelve years old, and I live in Virginia. I'm only a part time angel, and I came to ask your help about something."
"You aren't the angel of death?"
"No!" Billy half shouted trying not to laugh. "I'm not -- really. I'm the shape shifter that Phineas Jones was looking for. Remember? I wouldn't be here now, but my Mom's always called me her angel, and I really hated that, until now that is, and I had no idea I would really turn into one -- an angel, you know? But I did, and I broke that word of control that Finn used on me, but I ..."
"Excuse me, Billy is it? I can't tell you how glad I am to meet you at last, but would you slow down a little and maybe run that by me again?"
"Okay," Billy told his story again. "So you see now that I know his story I don't want to hurt him, it's just that he's really wrong about this. I'm not going be some animal act to make him rich."
"Of course not, but that apparently has been his dream for many years. He has been searching for you five years, if not longer, but he will not listen to me."
"I understand that, sir. It's just that I will. I mean, I wanted to ask you if you would help me with this talent of mine. I never wanted to turn into things, well, okay, sometimes, but not like this. The problem is I can't control it."
"Okay, son, if you are going to learn from me we need to get started soon. I will come and find you. Can you get rid of Finn for a while, gently?"
"I need to give him guidance, and then I was going to send him to Disney World."
"Good idea. He needs a vacation."
"Got it. Thanks again, Mr. Atkins. I really appreciate this."
Billy returned to the car and shook himself out of his trance. He turned and could still see the McDonald's so all of that had only taken a minute. He smiled, and promptly took control of the car.
"What's going on?" the man said unable to move the steering wheel or operate the pedals.
"Don't worry. It's not the car's fault. Just settle back and let it do the driving. We have to talk, Mr. Jones, or can I call you Finn? When my dad's driving he always..."
"I don't care what your dad does or doesn't do when he's driving. What did you do to my car?"
Billy shrugged. "Since you used magic on me and then my mom, I didn't think that you would mind if I used a little on your car."
"But you don't have the talent for that," the man insisted as the car pulled away from the restaurant and into traffic.
"Not when you first met me, but things change. Wouldn't you agree?"
"But this is impossible," the man said.
"Suppose I turned into something like a king cobra. Wouldn't my bite kill you as if I had hatched that way?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" The man turned in his seat as Billy's form wavered. He saw the fangs sprout from Billy's mouth. "Yes, it would. You've made your point."
Billy uncoiled from the snake. "I thought that might do it. So you see by that same talent if I turn into something that can work powerful magic, like I did, that magic works for me too."
"But the control?" Jones spoke the word of power again only to have Billy laugh at him.
"I broke that long ago. I couldn't do anything about the spell you put on my mom, but your magic will never work on me again."
The car left the outskirts of town and took the exit for I-95 Southbound.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Disney World. I had a great time there last year when my folks took me, and I thought you might need a little vacation. Don't worry, the car won't stop or even run out of gas until you get there. It has its orders. I'd expect to spend a lot of time in this car over the next couple of weeks. Now, would you like a little advice?"
"From you? Just stop the car now and we will forget this ever happened."
"I don't think so. It's my job, right now, to give you guidance whether you want it or not. You've got a great talent if you would just use it properly. You don't need to use me to make your fortune or anyone else for that matter. If you would become a real talent scout for a real agency, you could have it made."
"You really think it's that easy?"
"I didn't say it would be easy," Billy answered with a slight smile. But it beats using people the way you are now. Just think about it, and you will have a long time in this car to do just that. But while you're at it, think about this. Right now I'm an angel and all I want to do is give you this lesson on why you shouldn't use people. I won't be an angel much longer and if I ever see you again, Mr. Jones, you will regret it. Have a great time at Disney World."
Before the man could say anything, Billy stretched his arms into wings. The car braked and swerved over to the shoulder. As it reached a safe speed, Billy rose from the car as a hawk. He screeched, the best he could do for laughter just then, as the man struggled to get out of his seat belt. The car accelerated and merged back onto the highway. Billy hovered watching the car until it drove out of sight. He circled back and headed for town.
That, Billy thought, with a warm feeling deep inside, was just perfect. He had really carried out a plan to the end and made it work. Mr. Jones would never bother him again, and he could fly home. I'm flying, Billy thought and looked down. The ground had to be miles and miles away. His stomach clenched at the thought that the only thing holding him up was the wind beneath his wings. Although he held himself still the ground still slid away from him, and he stared at the miles of empty air in front of him. Now was not the time to remember he was afraid of heights.
He told himself, over and over, that he wouldn't fall, but nothing he could say helped ease the fear. What did he know about flying? And how could he get back down without crashing? For that matter how had he gotten up?
Billy closed his eyes and let his body soar. At least up here he wouldn't run into things. For the first time, he noticed that his wings weren't holding still. He could feel them making constant adjustments and tilting to catch the most of the wind currents. His tail feathers opened and closed on their own as well. It was, he thought, like running on four legs. He didn't know how to fly, but his body did. When he was a wolf, he felt that part of him really was a wolf. Now that he was a hawk that same part of him that was a hawk was taking charge. Now he just had to trust enough to let the hawk fly.
He opened his eyes and watched his own shadow speeding along the ground almost as fast as a car. Now that he knew the inner hawk was in control he began to enjoy the flight. He loved the feel of the breeze in his feathers, and at this speed he would be back over town in minutes. Flying wasn't so bad after all, and wouldn't his mom be surprised with how fast he could run errands now, especially since she always asked as a show or movie was about to start.
Banking, he thought to come into town over Miller's Field. The sooner he could get home the better, but without warning he half folded his wings and fell into a power dive. The ground rushed up to meet him at over a hundred miles an hour, but he felt perfectly calm as he stretched his talons and plucked a sparrow from the air. He swerved back up to end the stoop, then circled the field to find a safe spot to eat his kill.
The sparrow went down fast. Still hungry, Billy stretched his wings a few times before taking off. Shape changing did have its advantages, but the meals left a lot to be desired.
Billy circled the field to find something more substantial than the sparrow. A part of him still thought of the pressing need to get home, but now all he could think of was a nest placed high in the branches of a tree. He felt much too hungry to perch for the night.
Perch for the night? The human part of him objected but found it almost impossible to focus on anything but food. Billy forced control back from the hawk and flew toward town in spite of the hawk's terror at seeing the houses and traffic on the road. He didn't have this problem as a wolf. In fact, the more he thought about it he would prefer to run home as a canine than continue to battle the hawk.
He dropped from the sky to land at the edge of a vacant lot not far from his house. Hidden by the overgrown shrubbery and bushes he stretched into wolf shape, but dropped to his belly as his nose picked up the scent of humans -- and close by.
Two boys, somewhat smaller than Billy's human form, ran side by side across the lot. "Over here. I think he's hurt." Billy sniffed and sniffed again surprised that he could recognize the boys' scents more than their voices. He had counted the Davis twins as his closest friends as long as he could remember, but now he dropped lower trying not to attract any attention.
"Are you sure you saw something?" Bryan the elder of the brothers asked as Colin poked around in the bushes a few feet from Billy's position.
"Yep. I saw a hawk and a big one land right about here. From the way he was flying I think his wing was hurt." Colin pulled off his baseball cap to wipe his forehead.
"A hawk?" Bryan demanded. "What are you gonna do if you do find him?"
"See if I can help," Colin said without hesitation.
"And let that bird tear you to pieces if you do get near him?"
Colin sighed, "If I do find him, and I can't help I'll call the Animal Rescue League, or Dad. He'd know what to do.
"Billy scrunched down further into the shrubs. Something hard pressed against his belly, but he didn't dare move. He thought about changing into a regular dog, but the wolf would not permit that.
"It's getting late," Bryan said tugging on Colin's shoulder. "Mom would kill me if you did get torn up by a hawk."
"But I saw him come down here."
"Do you see this?" Bryan held a fist under Colin's nose. "We're going home, and you can let dad decide what to do about the hawk."
"Just another minute," Colin said peering into the thickest clump of bushes. He pushed the brush aside, and poked his head inside to find himself nose to nose with a half grown wolf.
Billy thumped his tail on the ground, and tried to smile, but the acid smell of Colin's fear just grew stronger as he moved his lips away from his fangs.
As slowly as he could, Colin pulled out of the bushes. "Bryan?"
"What's the matter now? Did you find the bird?"
"Look in there and tell me if that's a wolf or not."
"A what?" Bryan demanded. "Colin, what would a wolf be doing here? First it's hawks and now it's wolves? Get real."
As the twins argued, Billy shifted his position to find the problem was an acorn. With a sudden thought, he shrank down to be a squirrel and ran after the nut. Startled as Bryan pushed into the bushes, Billy dropped his acorn, ran up the nearest tree and ran back down, head first, to scold the boys.
Bryan giggled. "That's the first time I've seen one of those. A nut-eating, tree-climbing, squirrel wolf."
"But there was a wolf, I swear it."
"Do you think that squirrel would be there if there was a wolf within miles of here?" He broke into louder laughter.
"What's so funny now?" Colin asked.
"See the way that squirrel is looking at us? I swear it looks just like Billy Preston."
"That's not funny. Billy's my best friend in the whole world, and he doesn't look like some stupid old squirrel."
"He's your only friend in the whole world, and I didn't say he looked like anything. Never mind. The next time we see Billy I'll give him a peanut to see if he eats it or buries it for the winter."
Colin punched his brother's arm. "You're just mad because Billy's more my friend than yours."
"So who cares?" Bryan shook his head. "Let's get home."
Billy waited until the boys' backs were turned before he launched himself from the tree. He changed to hawk in mid-jump then soared up over the field. Focusing on Bryan's cap, he stooped and snatched the hat off the boy's head before Bryan saw him coming. With a loud screech, Billy zoomed to the other side of the lot.
"Did you see that?" Bryan started running. "Come back here you stupid bird. Give me back my hat."
"Told you there was a hawk. I bet he's mad at you because you wouldn't let me help him."
Bryan screamed again at the hawk, then froze as the bird turned and headed back. He ducked and held his arms over his head but the bird only dropped the cap at his feet. With a back flip, Billy flew up and over the houses across the street.
"What's mom gonna say?" Bryan said dusting off his cap and inspecting the holes left by the hawk's talons. "You're the expert on hawks and things, why'd he do that?"
"Beats me. Maybe he's a friend of Billy's."
Billy acted while he could still think clearly. He landed in his own back yard, shifted back to human form, and ran up the back steps determined that there would be no more changes -- at least for the day. All the shifting around left him dizzy.
He heard his parent's voices before he opened the door. His folks did argue, but then whose didn't? But, for the first time in his life, he might be able to stop this one. He longed to tell his parents everything, but what would they think? They could be funny about things like this. He didn't want to lie either, but... He would have to play this as it came. He opened the door and walked inside the kitchen.
"How could you possibly do this?" Mark Preston shouted.
"But I have the contract right here."
"Lilly, have you looked at this thing? There isn't an address or phone number or anything for these people. They have our son, with your blessing, and we have no idea who they are or how to contact them?"
"Hey, Dad," Billy said. "It's not her fault. That guy from the agency was a real jerk, a fake all the way, but man he was a smooth talker. Can I go over to Colin's after dinner?"
Mr. Preston stared at his son for a second, before lifting the boy into a long bear hug. "Billy. I thought you were gone for good. What happened?"
"I told him I didn't believe that contract was legal and I started to wave down a cop. He let me go."
"But Billy," Mrs. Preston said. "This was your big chance."
"It's me, Mom. You know, Mr. Average? Even if the guy was for real, I couldn't do all that TV stuff."
"Thank God that's over with," Mr. Preston said. "And yes, go over to Colin's but call if you're going to be late."
Billy woke to the scent of frying bacon. He opened his eyes slowly, savoring the aroma, then blinked. What was he doing laying on the floor? He looked up at his rumpled bed, and wagged his tail. Oh, this is just great, he thought and rose to all fours.
Only then did he smell his mother, and close by. He turned, slowly, and wagged his tail harder as he saw his mom standing in the doorway. He tried to grin.
Lilly Preston stared at the wolf for a minute, stunned. She opened her mouth and screamed. Billy winced as the sound hurt his ears. He heard his dad's footsteps pounding down the corridor. Mrs. Preston screamed again.
"For the love of Mike, Lilly... Oh my God. Where did Billy get that, and where is he? I've heard some nasty things about wolf dogs."
"I haven't seen Billy at all, just this monster."
"Billy!" Mr. Preston called out. "You had better show yourself, young man."
Billy made his decision, and changed back to himself. "What do you mean a monster? I'm not that big a wolf -- yet."
Mr. Preston let out a long groan. He buried his face in his hands. "This didn't happen. It's impossible. I'm still in bed sound asleep. I had better still be in bed sound asleep."
"William Preston, I want to know what you did, and how and where is that wolf?"
"The wolf is in here," Billy said patting his chest. "Look, could we talk about this over breakfast? I'm starved. And when I say -- now -- that I'm hungry enough to eat a horse, I could do it, too."
"That was bad, son, really bad," Mr. Preston said with a grimace.
After eating, Billy told his story again and again until his folks seemed to understand. "So right now I can't help turning into things."
"So," Mr. Preston said quietly. "You can change into anything or anyone that you like including a real angel, but you can't control the changes?"
"Yeah, that about sums it up."
"Do you know, son, you have effectively trashed every single law of science I have ever learned including conservation of matter? What happens to the rest of you when you turn into a squirrel?"
Billy grinned, "Beats me, dad. I just do it. I don't know how it works, but it does, like flipping a light switch."
"Ok, since this is real, there has to be some sort of natural law to cover it, but..."
"It's magic, dad. Anything else will just drive you nuts."
"You may be right, and I'm getting late for work as it is."
"Mark. You can't be serious about leaving now."
Mr. Preston shrugged his shoulders. "Billy will still be here tonight, Baby, and this isn't news I would want made public anyway. But, unless he can change himself into a genie that grants wishes and zaps up millions of dollars and a mansion in Beverly Hills for us, we still need my paycheck. You can't do that, can you son? For me?"
Billy felt his scalp tingle. For an instant he had the sense of unlimited power that was his for the asking. He felt the magic sing through his veins and nerves until he thought he might explode. But then, he forced himself back into strictly human as he touched the genie's mind. Shuddering, as if he had touched something slimy, he shook his head. "Sorry, dad. There is real and there is real."
"Then I will see you both when I get home," Mr. Preston said with a sigh.
"I'm going over to Colin's before school, mom."
"Is all of your homework done?"
"Yes, mom. It is. See you later," he called out then headed for the front door. The phone rang and he picked it up as his mother left the dining room. "Hello?"
"Billy. I'm glad I caught you."
"Mr. Jones? I don't believe this. Do you like Disney World?"
"That was some stunt you pulled. I will forget it this time, but we still have business together."
Billy laughed. "You know, there have been teachers that have called me a slow learner. Do I have to hit you over the head with a hammer before you catch on? You come near me or my family again and I will rip your eyes out at the very least. Get the picture?"
"You will regret saying that, young man."
"Look, Finn -- Finny," Billy said with a grin. "I know you now, and I know how frustrated you've felt because Peter and all of those other people you helped haven't even given you 'thank you' for waking their talents. And I know how important it was for you to find me. You've been dreaming about this for years, and planning what you would do with my power, but -- I'm a person, too. I've got my own life to live and I'm not about to help you show up the rest of the world, or to help you get rich."
"But... How could you possibly know that?"
"I told you. Yesterday in the car I was an angel. I read your life because that's what angels do. You know what they say on TV? 'Every life is a story?' I know your story, or parts of it. I talked to Mr. Atkins about you."
"You did what? You went to that old fool?"
Billy nodded. "He's very nice and I really like him. He was right about you. You can't use people like this. I mean, when you see someone all you see is that person's talent. You don't see the person, but whether or not that talent will make you rich. It doesn't work like that."
"Grow up, kid," Jones screamed into the phone. "You have no idea how things work. You're mine, do you understand that?"
The back of Billy's scalp tingled this time as his body stretched up in a growth spurt to beat them all. In a rich, bass voice, Billy spoke back into the phone. "Nope, sorry, Finn old pal, but I'm all grown up now and the answer is still the same. Just remember, Finny, I may know your story and I feel for what you've been through, but that won't stop me from fighting you with all of my powers if you do come back. You know, if you weren't so thick headed..."
"What? We could be friends?" Jones demanded.
"No way," Billy said quietly. "I might almost like you then, but I wouldn't want to hang out with you or anything. It's just that I wouldn't think you're such a major creepazoid like I do now."
Billy hung up the phone and hurried into the bathroom to check himself out in the mirror. He still had dirty blond hair, a broader face, and stubble. Still Mr. Average, he thought. This was crazy, he thought as he shrank back down into kid size. That was almost as silly as dressing up in his father's good clothes.
"Hey Billy, wait up." Colin Davis shouted from the school's entrance. Billy turned and waited for the twins to catch up.
"Hey, Billy," Bryan said. "Want a peanut?" He winced as Colin punched him on the arm.
"Sure," he said with a frown, "It's just that I'm not sure if I should eat it or bury it for the winter."
"You told," Bryan said and returned the punch.
"Not me. I swear it."
"What's with you two? Come on, Bryan, I was just teasing, but I have been feeling a little squirrely lately. What happened to your hat?" Billy snatched the cap off Bryan's head and poked his fingers through the holes.
"You'll never believe this in a million years, but..." Bryan started.
"A hawk did this? It's been happening a lot lately," Billy said and placed the cap on his head.
"Hey, you guys want to play ball?"
Billy didn't recognize the boy running up to them. "Sure, what do you say?"
"Yeah," Colin said but glanced at his brother who shook his head.
"We have to get home early, Colin, or dad will kill us. Remember?"
"Oh, right. Sorry. Maybe next week." With that the twins left running. Billy started to take off the cap to return it Bryan, but that could wait. He followed a growing group of kids around to the ball field.
In spite of the fall weather, Billy took off his jacket as two boys picked the teams. Billy tried to remember names as his team introduced themselves, but soon enough they took the field as the game began.
As an outfielder, Billy was -- average. He managed to snag a few balls that were hit his way, but he found himself paying more attention to the scents around him than the game. Someone was burning leaves nearby, and the air felt crisp for September. His team did not permit a run, and went to bat.
The first boy struck out, and Billy walked up to the plate. Actually, as a hitter he was worse than average, but he took the first pitch and smacked it to right field. He ran for all he was worth down the baseline.
"Come on, Billy. Can't you run faster than that?" someone from his team yelled.
"Yeah, Billy, stop running like a girl."
Although his scalp tingled, he made it to second before he realized how much he had changed. "Good hit," someone else called, and Billy only smiled as the second base man kept giving him funny looks.
"No wonder you run like a girl," the boy said and tugged the cap from Billy's head.
Golden blonde hair cascaded around Billy's shoulders. "So?" she said trying her best not to blush.
"What's going on here?" Both of the team captains ran over to second base. "I thought your name was Billy."
"It is. B-i-l-l-i-e," she spelled out. "What's the matter with you guys?"
"No girls allowed," several of the boys said in unison.
"You've got to be kidding. Get real, it's the twenty-first century, remember? What? Afraid I can play better than you big strong men?"
The other team's catcher joined the group. "What's the problem? We've got a game to play."
"But not with a girl."
"She's done better than all the rest of you. Hi," he said with a wide smile for Billie. "I'm Carlos."
"Oh, Carlos wants a girl friend. Take her out some other time, Rodriguez, but right now I'm taking her out of the game. No girls."
Billie shrugged as she tucked her hair back into the baseball cap. "That's it, isn't it? You're afraid you're going to get beaten by a girl and you can't handle it. Ok, be that way."
"Wait," Carlos said. "Jake, if she goes so do I. It isn't fair."
"No, don't spoil your game for me," Billie said shaking her head. "It's not worth it. Later, guys."
"Bunch of losers," Carlos said as he deliberately walked Billie off the field. "Not much of a game anyway."
"But you don't understand. You really don't."
"I know how you must feel, Billie. You're a good player and just because you're a girl shouldn't matter."
Billy looked around, and took off the cap to show his usual short, haircut. "I'm not a girl. That was just a trick I learned. Those guys were ragging on me for the way I run, and I wanted to show them up. I didn't think they'd throw me off the team, and I didn't want you to leave the game on my account." He gave the boy a wide grin. "And you're really not my type either."
"But..." Carlos protested. "This is crazy, What happened to all of your hair, and your face?" he said trying to peek in Billy's cap.
"Yeah, neat trick, isn't it?"
"Impossible," Carlos said. "Do it again."
Placing the cap back on his head, Billy sighed and made the change. "There."
"But you are so pretty as a girl. I mean, as a boy you are..."
"Average?" Billy cut in. "Tell me about it. You really think I'm pretty? No," Billy said and turned away from the taller boy. "I'm not a girl."
"Yes, I do, and the least you could do, since I gave up the game for you, is to have a soda with me, Miss Billie."
"I'd love to... No way am I going out with you. Look, I'm a boy. You want to go play some video games? I'll hang out with you, but don't get any other ideas." He forced himself back into his male self.
Carlos smiled, "Of course. Ah, but you're so pretty as a girl. Come on, let's go ... and how do you do that?"
"It's a gift," Billie said. She took off her cap and shook out her hair as a red mustang drove by. She couldn't see the driver, but the last thing she wanted was a confrontation right then. "Maybe a soda would be nice?"
Before Billie saw what was coming, Carlos bent down slightly and kissed her right on the mouth. "That sounds wonderful to me."
"Eeewww," Billie said and wiped her mouth on her arm. "What did you do that for?"
"You are lovely, and there is a dance coming up at school..."
"Don't push it, kid."
After the soda, Billie found herself walking hand in hand with the boy, and didn't mind the idea. Sure enough, she spotted the mustang parked a few houses down from her own. "This is it, and I'd better say good bye here. My folks would never understand this and neither do I, but don't look for me to be a girl ever again. Okay?"
"Of course, whatever you say. But, while you're still a girl," he kissed Billy again, and longer. For just a second, Billy leaned into the kiss and started to put her arms around Carlos' neck before she broke off. "Very funny."
She walked down the street, past her house, and past the mustang, glancing in to verify the driver. Jones, concentrating on watching the Preston home, did not glance at the girl walking by.
Billie touched the man's thoughts just enough to see what Jones intended. Old Finn must have a really low opinion of her intelligence or powers if he thought she wouldn't recognize the car. So, he had a dart gun, did he. Billie nudged the man's hand.
In the car, Jones, looked at his watch and shook his head. The boy should be getting home from school by now. He reached into his coat pocket, and felt the dart gun. Still there, he thought. He hardly noticed as he pulled the gun out, turned it and fired at his own leg. He kept firing until all the charges were spent and the drugs started taking effect.
"When you wake up," Billy said through the window. "You will probably be in California. Since the trip to Disney Land didn't convince you, I thought Australia might. G'day mate! Have a wonderful trip and kiss a kangaroo for me." Jones slumped forward in his seat. "Some people are just too obsessive for their own good," Billy commented as the car pulled away on its trip west.
"Billy," Mrs. Preston called out. "Carlos is on the phone for you -- again. You two are really seeing a lot of each other lately."
"I guess," Billy called back as he picked up the phone. "Hi."
"Hey, babe, still on for the dance next week?"
"I told you no. I mean I don't have anything to wear."
"I've got that covered too, Billie. I'd really like it if you went with me."
"I'll think about it," Billy said and hung up the phone.
"What was that about?" Mrs. Preston asked as she walked into the kitchen.
"Nothing, mom. Carlos wants to go to the dance at school next week -- you know, sort of a -- double date. But I'm not sure I want to go."
"Because you have nothing to wear? Babe?"
Billy blushed from his forehead to his toes. "Oh, well..." He sighed and changed to Billie. "It's a long story."
"Oh my. Billy, you're gorgeous! We both have time for that long story, young lady, and this I have to hear."
"Ok, but mom, I'm not a girl or anything. And I'm not a sissy either. It's just that ... well, this sort of happened, and when I'm with Carlos, well ... it's nothing, really."
"If it's nothing, Billy, why the change?"
"Ok, maybe it's something, but he's a boy, and I don't like boys, but when he kisses me ... I mean..." She blushed again.
"There is something. You know, I was a girl once myself, sweetie. There's nothing wrong with being confused about yourself, Billy. Most boys go through this at your age, and it's perfectly natural. It's just that most boys never have the opportunity to see the other side as it were."
"I like Carlos, a lot, and it's weird because when I'm with him I love being a girl, but I can't wait to turn back to me when he leaves. I'm not going to start wearing skirts or makeup or anything, mom."
"Why not? You would look great in them, and I can help there, too. You know how much I've always wanted to have a girl."
"Yes, but not me. I mean, Carlos wants to go to the dance with me all dressed up, but..."
"And part of you really wants to go -- all dressed up?"
Billie nodded. "I am getting used to being a girl -- from time to time, and -- yes, part of me does want to dress up."
"This is going be too great, sweetie. But first we really have to do something with your hair. This talent of yours can really be interesting. Can you change the cut and style of your hair?"
"More than you can guess."
Two weeks later, early on a Saturday morning, Billy woke to the sound of his mother's sewing machine. Not again, he thought. Ever since he let her buy him a dress for the dance she wouldn't stop with the girl's wardrobe -- just in case. Mrs. Preston had taken her to a beauty salon twice now, and was starting to talk about lessons in makeup too. But would she listen to him?
He opened his bedroom window, changed to a falcon, this time, and flew for all he was worth across town to Miller's Field. Here, at least, he could ride the thermals, and think about things, like running away to join a circus. With his act he'd be a smash in no time and he'd never have to be a girl again. Then again, it's not that he hated being a girl, and he had loved every second of the dance, but -- he was a boy.
He spent the next couple of hours catching his own breakfast. If only he had someone to talk to about this. Carlos wanted him to be a girl full time now, the twins wouldn't understand at all, and his Mom was beginning to agree with Carlos. He didn't like to think about his father's reaction to this change, but maybe... Something was wrong...
Billy started to turn for home, when he spotted a man with a rifle walk out of the woods and wave to him. No, that was impossible, but his eyes were not deceiving him. Phineas Jones stood there, waving one arm to the hawk. Curious, Billy landed and changed to human male.
"Before you send me off to the other side of the world again, young man, I'd suggest you hear me out. Spells can be broken but not bombs."
"Bombs?"
"The one I planted in your house this morning, kid. That bomb. It's set to go off in six hours and take your parents with it. Now, I have a device, on me now, that can either stop the bomb or detonate it at will. It has two buttons, and only I know which is which in case you try to take the remote from me. You would have a fifty-fifty chance of killing your parents rather than saving them."
"Okay, so now what?"
"You are coming with me. A talent like yours is too vital to waste, and with your talent under my direction my fortune will be made. I know magic will not work on you, but as an angel, or so you said, you were not permitted to interfere in human affairs so all of your power will be useless to prevent your parents' death. Do you understand me? You have six hours to agree to cooperate, or good bye mommy and daddy."
"And if I kill you before you can use your remote?"
The man laughed. "You, my little angel? You couldn't hurt a fly, could you? Oh no, you can give me all the guidance you want, but it's not going to change this."
"What do I have to do?"
"Give me an oath, as an angel on your halo, that you will cooperate with me no matter what. Only then will I let your parents go."
"I can't do that." Billy said shaking his head.
"Six hours can be a long time to change your mind, kid. Let's go."
Billy walked beside Mr. Jones. With his thoughts he touched his house and found that everything the man said was true. His power was blocked from disarming the bomb, or freeing his parents from their bonds.
Mr. Jones drove the boy to a warehouse not far from home. Inside he made Billy walk into a room made of plexiglass that had to be several inches thick. As Billy watched, a fourth wall lowered behind him leaving Jones to speak through an intercom.
"Not even a microbe could leave that room, Billy. There is a clock, as you can see on the wall behind me. Just buzz that button right there when you are ready to make your oath."
Billy pounded on the walls as the man left the area. This could not be happening. He slumped down to the floor and glanced at the clock. So, he would have to make the deal after all unless he could think of something. He could change to angel again, and leave the room, of course, but then what? Even by the time he could zap himself back home and change to something that could free his parents, chances were that Jones would press the button.
He needed to do something different. He needed to be something really powerful that wasn't an angel. He wouldn't let his father deal with a genie, but Jones would. Genies lived for the chance to cause as much human suffering with their wishes as possible. But... Suppose Jones could control the genie?
No, he needed to be something that could fight. He thought and thought and finally came up with a plan. After all there was real and then there was real. He started to change, and liked what he felt. Sheer energy fed his muscles as he felt his legs and stretch, and a mind that was playful. He grinned as his neck stretched and a tail burst through his pants.
Wait a second, his clothes changed with him, but as his body grew longer his pants and shirt ripped and fell in shreds to the floor. He kicked his sneakers off before his new claws could rip them, too.
As his mouth filled with fangs, Billy felt something else, no someone else. Someone who felt dark, and savage. He fought the change trying to regain control of his body, but it was like fighting a freight train. The new personality took complete control and Billy realized that he had made the worse mistake of his life.
Seconds later a young dragon, complete with fiery red scales and red leather wings blew flame at the plexiglass wall, and watched it melt. The dragon grew larger still as he walked into the hallway twisting his head to follow Jones' scent. With a thought, the dragon turned invisible and silently made his way through the warehouse.
Jones sat in a large office with papers and maps scattered on the desk in front of him. He shook his head as he pressed the buzzer on an intercom. "Billy, you are running out of time."
The boy didn't answer. Jones took the remote from his pants pocket. "You had better speak to me, kid, or I set the bomb off now."
"Very well, Mr. Jones, how's this?" the dragon said in deep voice. A blast of flame melted the remote and charred Jones' arm up to the shoulder. The dragon showed himself as the man screamed in pain. The scent of barbequed meat made his mouth water. "I'm not an angel now."
"You can't do this. I need a doctor -- a burn unit!"
"What for?" the dragon said softly. "You humans have yet to really understand what power is all about. You thought to use it, and the boy thought to control it, but neither of you understood it. I do. The boy could control animal shapes but not his all too human emotions and certainly not a dragon. He gave birth to me and for that I will show him my gratitude. I will save his human parents before I start my own life, but you... You, Mr. Jones, are not going to live long enough to tell anyone about me."
Jones screamed. "You can't do this."
"Why not? As a wolf, I ate like a wolf. As a hawk, I ate like a hawk. As a dragon, I intend to eat like a dragon and dragons tend to like their food well-done." Another blast of flame charred the man's legs.
"No. I swear, I will leave you alone. I will never come back and I will never think about you, Billy. I swear it."
"So? Mr. Jones, you yourself admitted that you have obsessed over me for the last five years, and I don't believe that you can forget about me. Someday you will be back, I know it and on that day you really might hurt someone that is close to me. Do you think I could ever forgive myself if I permitted that to happen when I could have ended it right here and now? No? I didn't think so."
A third blast of fire ended the matter forever. The dragon enjoyed his meal and left nothing behind to clean up. He would have been content to take a long nap to digest, but he did have to do something about the bomb.
Invisible once more, the dragon made the flight home in seconds. He shrank enough to fit through the doorway, and grew again as he found the Preston's still tied up in the living room.
"Billy?" Mr. Preston asked as the dragon appeared in the room.
"In a way. Wait," the dragon said and released the bonds on the humans with his talons. "Billy is with me," the dragon said and picked up the bomb. "Do not look for us to return." With that he headed for the door.
"Billy, what are you doing? Put that thing down. We will get out of here and leave that to the experts."
The dragon pushed outside and made it to the front lawn before the bomb exploded. All of his magic was not enough to keep the blast from shredding his wings and knocking him unconscious. The dragon's form wavered and shrank back into a twelve-year old boy, injured but intact.
Billy woke screaming. He found himself on a stretcher about to be loaded onto an ambulance. In spite of the IV in his wrist, and the wire from the monitor, Billy tried to sit up.
Mrs. Preston pushed him back down. "Don't try to move. You really are a hero."
"No," Billy screamed again. "I'm not. Mom, I ate him. I ate Mr. Jones."
The medic frowned and shook his head. "Don't try to talk, son, it was just a dream. You were knocked for a loop and must be really out of it."
****
"Billy, it wasn't your fault." Mr. Preston said for the fifth time.
"But it was, dad." Billy paced the kitchen floor. "I was the one that let that dragon out, and I was the one that let him kill and eat that man. I liked it, dad. Mr. Jones tasted good, and if that bomb hadn't stopped me I would have killed others. Lots of others. That's what dragons do."
"But it's over, son. Jones is gone for good and the police are listing him as missing only. No one is charging you with anything. No one would believe that story anyway. Can't you as an angel forgive yourself? I'm sure the higher powers understand what happened."
"I can't dad. All I can see when I go to sleep is that man burning and me ripping him in half. I can't..."
"But Billy, you can't hide yourself in a shell for the rest of your life. You've been like this since you left for the hospital and I'm not sure how long we can keep you home from school."
"I didn't understand the power, dad. No one should have that much power to ... Shell! That's it. Thanks, dad! You've just saved my life."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm going to hide in a shell. I'm going to turn into something that doesn't have this awful power. I'll be something really different ... something good, and something that isn't me."
"Billy, wait. You can learn to handle the power, son. It's going to take time, but you are still just a child. You can't expect to be perfect. Not even angels are perfect. I think that is reserved for God, but there is no reason for you to... Billy, stop it."
"Billy, stop that," Hugh Atkins said from the kitchen doorway. "I didn't travel all this way to help you only to have you run away from your problems like this."
"Uh, hi," Billy said, blushing. He looked down at the egg shell forming on his chest. "I -- I was just... When did you get here?"
"Just now," Atkins said before introducing himself to Mr. Preston. "I know what happened, and I understand why you feel like this, son."
For a moment, Billy stared at the old man's warm smile, and the wrinkles around his eyes. He shook himself, and wiped his eyes. "But the problem is still the same. He didn't deserve to die."
"No one does, Billy. But it happens." Atkins dropped to one knee and gave the boy a long hug. "I don't have any magic words or powers that is ever going to make this better. This hurt will be with you for the rest of your life."
"And so is the dragon," Billy whispered. "He's there, waiting for me to slip up so he can take control again. That's why I wanted to change into something else."
"And what better opportunity would you give the dragon than to be hatched from an egg? You may wish to punish yourself, and run away to sulk but this problem will have to be faced sooner or later. The question will be how much more damage you do before you face it."
"Son," Mr. Preston cut in. "All of us have our own angels and dragons to deal with, but you have to power to make them real. Your mother and I are here to help you learn how to handle them."
"And you did beg my help as well."
Billy nodded, and looked back and forth between the two men. "I know, it's just that ... I think what I really wanted was time to think and get this sorted out without worrying about the dragon... And I really did want to turn into something really cool."
Atkins laughed. "I think we can work this out, son. I have a large ranch back home... Oh, would you come in please?"
Colin Davis walked into the room, hesitant at first, but when he saw Billy he rushed over to grab his friend into another bear hug. "I was so worried about you. Your mom told me you were hurt by that bomb, but they wouldn't let me go to the hospital or anything."
"It's okay," Billy said. "Not Carlos?"
Atkins shook his head. "You have enough confusion and upset in your life to deal with that issue as well. Someday."
"What's going on?" Mrs. Preston asked as she joined the group.
"Lilly, this is Hugh Atkins. He's a teacher that Billy found who may be able to get him through this."
"Yes, and this will be difficult, but I wanted to invite the four of you back to my ranch. Billy, you will have more than enough space to roam and start healing. Do you know what you would like to be?"
"Yes," Billy said with a wide grin.
"Okay, and I wanted to have Colin go with you as a friend and to make sure you had someone your own age to talk to."
"That's great!" Colin said catching on. "A real ranch -- with cowboys and horses?"
"That's about it. I will make the necessary arrangements with your school so this will not interfere with that, but I do feel that all of you could use a vacation right now."
"When do we leave?" Billy asked. "I can't wait to try out the new me."
"What are you talking about?" Colin asked.
"Remember that squirrel you guys found when you thought you saw a wolf? It was me -- really. I was the wolf too, and the hawk that took Bryan's cap."
"You can shape change and you didn't tell me?" Colin said with the easy belief of his eleven years. "You rat! You stupid geek. When do I get to be a bird?"
"Not a bird... Watch this." Billy bent over as his arms and legs stretched. His clothes melted into a coal black coat and mane, and a colt shook himself on unsteady legs until his wings, as black as his coat settled across his shoulders.
"Oh wow. I get to ride you like that? Can you teach me that?"
The colt nodded his head and snorted.
"This is going to be the best vacation ever," Colin said watching Billy change back into himself.
"It is," Billy agreed as he wrapped an arm around Colin's shoulders and walked the boy from the room. "Changing shapes is really easy. You'll pick it up in no time. But first..." He pressed his right thumb on Colin's forehead. "There."
"What'd you do that for?"
"It's a trick I learned from a late friend of mine. Did you know you have a real talent for drawing?"
"Me? I like to draw I guess, but I'm not any good."
"You will be," Billy answered with a wider grin. "And I'm going to help. You know, maybe there is something to it when they say 'you are what you eat'... Nope, there isn't but it was a thought. Let's go to my room and I'll teach you how to fly before I pack for the trip."
Now, with the thought of sharing his talent with his best friend in the whole world, Billy felt the dragon recede back into the shadows that had created it. He would have to be careful, always alert, but maybe he could handle it. If only he hadn't had to kill Finn like that...
"Are you okay?" Colin asked. "You look weirded out again."
"It's okay. I'm working on it," Billy said with a quick prayer for the man in the blue suit. "I'm working on it."
The Girl in My Dreams
By Andy Hollis
I woke, sweating up a storm. The stench of smoke and flames from my dream still lingered in my nose. With a groan, I rubbed my mouth with the back of my hand and rolled out of bed to hurry to the bathroom. The light turned on, and I squinted through sleep-encrusted eyes to see my mother standing in my bedroom door.
"Are you okay, Will?"
"Bad dream," I mumbled and tried to get around her. "I'll be right back."
I stumbled down the hall to the bathroom in time with my Dad's snores. Once there, I bent over the sink, resting my arms on the countertop and spat a few times in the bathroom sink. Then, I washed my mouth out and dried off my face and hair before walking back down the hall toward the light in my room.
Mom was still there. "You want to talk about it?"
"No," I said with a shrug and sat down on my bed. "Not really...." I saw the expression on her face and blushed. "It was just weird, Mom, really weird."
"If you talk about it now, you might work it out enough so that it doesn't trouble your sleep again."
"Mom, I'm almost fourteen. I haven't had a real nightmare in.... Okay, maybe I'd better tell you. It wasn't bad so much as gross. Real gross."
"How gross? Slime drooling aliens about to bite your head off?"
"No, nothing like that."
She sat down on the bed and ruffled my hair as she got comfortable. "Go ahead."
"It was like really weird, Mom. I was at a dance, like that would ever happen to me in real life, but there I was and I had the most gorgeous girl with me. I knew her, in my dream, and we danced, Mom. I remember our clothes looked really old-fashioned and so was the music, but we had a great time, and at the end of the dance I kissed her."
She smiled. "That must have been really horrible. Kissing a girl."
I blushed again until my cheeks burned. "No. It wasn't that. I mean, in the dream, as soon as I stopped and backed away a little, she turned into Bobby Richards, and I kissed him again. Then I smelled a fire, a real bad one, and that woke me up. Mom, really, I've never wanted to kiss a guy, I swear it, and I like Bobby, but...I mean I like girls. I'm not gay or anything, but...."
She sighed, as her smile turned crooked. I hugged her for a second. "Will, sweetie, it's okay. You're normal," she replied as she brushed my hair, until I stopped her. I mean, she's my Mom and all, but I still wasn't that comfortable with the touchie-feelie stuff. "It's perfectly normal for a guy your age to be confused about the whole boy-girl thing, and even to be confused about your own feelings. I don't think you're gay, either, but Bobby's been your friend forever, and now you are starting to like girls. You're growing up a bit, but your dreams are telling you that you aren't ready to give up your old friends.
"Think of it like this." Mom had moved into lecture mode. "I know Bobby was never your best friend, but in your dreams he represents your childhood. The girl represents your future and you are torn between the two."
"Okay," I said. After all, it made a lot more sense than my dream. "I guess you're right." I settled back in bed, then sat up enough to turn the pillow over to avoid the sweaty pillow case.
"Do you want fresh sheets or can that wait until tomorrow?"
"No, I'm okay, thanks."
After patting down my covers, Mom kissed me on my forehead and turned off the light on her way out. I shook my head. How she could always hear me when I had a nightmare, especially over dad's snores, would be an all time mystery.
The next morning I tumbled downstairs early earlier than usual during summer vacation, but after Dad had gone to work. I helped myself to the eggs and bacon, gulped down an orange juice and waited until Mom came in to join me. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down next to me.
"Thanks for everything last night," I said. "I really felt a lot better after we talked. I'm gonna meet the guys and go swimming, okay?"
"Okay, but call if you need a ride home."
"I will," I said and grabbed a towel from the laundry basket on the way out. Dressed in a t-shirt, swim trunks and flip-flops, I hurried down the street to find Bobby Richards waiting for me, alone.
"Will," he said, happy to see me as we bumped fists. "Travis couldn't make it, and Charlie will meet us at the pool. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I said and started walking.
"So why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" I asked and tried to shrug off his questions.
Bobby and I had been friends forever. He was slightly shorter and skinnier than me, had bright red hair, three million freckles, and a grin that could make anyone laugh. I tried not to stare at him, but when I saw him just then I thought he looked cute. I felt him put his arm around my shoulders, like he always did as we walked, and I had to fight the urge to take his hand.
"Will? Will? Yo, Connolly, I asked you a question."
"Huh? Sorry, Robert, my man, I was busy saving the Universe from slime drooling aliens. What?"
"Is your Mom picking us up, or do you want me to call mine?"
"Mine will," I said. "I had a dream about you last night."
"Oh, yeah?" he said, and held out his arms. "Was I flying? I love those dreams." He ran around for a while, buzzing me before he started a strafing run.
"No, you were dancing"
"Me?" Bobby held his hands to his throat, and gagged. "Dancing? With a girl? That must have been a nightmare -- for her. I can't dance. Or maybe I could, with you," he added, and held out his hands. He grabbed me, spun around and managed to not only step on my toes, but trip over his own feet -- twice.
I sighed as I picked him up. "Nice try, dufus, next time watch whose toes you're stepping on."
"But you dance so divinely," he cooed before bursting into laughter.
I had to laugh too as we headed for the pool. Stupid dream, I could never dance with this big a goofball.
But all day long I found myself staring at his legs, then trying to picture him in a one-piece suit.
****
That night, the dream turned mushy. I woke, groaning from the dream, and just as sweaty as I had been the night before. Mom didn't come into my room, at least, but I wondered if I should call her. The smell of smoke was a lot worse.
I could remember the dream, vividly. Bobby and I were at the dance, but after kissing him, and it was Bobby's face on the girl,I lead him to my car. I opened the door for him, and drove him to a parking spot. It made sense that I was driving since I looked about 18 or 19 in the rear view mirror.
It was no fair, I thought. In the dream, I had everything, good looks, a great build, a car and a gorgeous girl; even if she did look like Bobby sometimes. In real life, I was short and way too skinny, with no build at all.
In the dream, we parked, made out and swore eternal love and devotion to each other. We didn't get beyond kissing. Even though the girl had Bobby's face, I called her Shannon, and she called me Mark. She also had a girl's chest measurements and I loved the feel of her breasts in my hand. Or I did, until Bobby and I both turned into ourselves, and the dream ended as I found myself wondering why her chest was so flat, and what was burning.
I got up, washed my mouth out with water and almost walked right into my mother as I left the bathroom. She held onto me for a moment.
"Another dream?"
I nodded. "Same one, too." I told her about it, which only made her frown.
"You were driving? Do you remember how you did it?"
I shook my head. "I want to drive, man, that would be so cool, but I thought I had to be seventeen to get my Learner's Permit."
"Yes, but.... I'll check my books again. Something isn't right about this. Night sweetheart, and you haven't told Bobby anything about this, have you?"
"No. Mom, he's a goofball, you know, a real cut up. He'd never listen, everything is joke to him." I don't know why I lied, but for some reason, I really didn't want to tell her I had told Bobby my dream, especially because he had taken it as a joke.
She nodded, and gave me a peck on the top of my head before gently pushing me back toward my bedroom. "Get to bed."
I walked back to my bedroom, feeling the plush carpet under my toes. The whole upstairs was done in the same forest green, and I remembered a few years ago Bobby and I spent a lot of time scuffing our feet to build up static electric charges and then zapping each other as we saved the Universe together. I'd hate to ruin our friendship over a couple of weird dreams.
Two
The next night, the dream took a new turn. This time we were both older, and in the dream we checked into a motel. I knew that Bobby and I were married, now and it was legal, but I felt a kind of guilty twinge as we made love. Whoa, she was a gorgeous woman. Her hair was just as red as Bobby's but this time her face stayed as Shannon, until I woke up after a wet dream.
I was old enough that this wasn't my first wet dream, but this time the feeling was more intense than ever before. I changed my underwear, walked down to the bathroom and cleaned up. Mom didn't wake up, or more likely, she did, but decided I was okay and left me to deal with things myself. I let myself go back to sleep, but I felt I had to talk to her, or someone before all of this drove me crazy. I had two months before starting the ninth grade, and I wasn't going to do it while I dreamed I was in love with Bobby Richards.
That morning, I watched Mom drink her coffee, and I almost said something when the phone rang. She picked it up, listened a moment and then handed it to me. "It's Bobby."
"Hey, what's up?" I said into the phone.
"Try the sky. There's a new game at the mall, want to try it out this morning?"
"Sure," I said without a second thought.
"Great. Mom and me will be over in a few to get you."
I hung up the phone and shook my head. "I'm going to the mall with Bobby and his mother. There's a new game...."
"Are you okay with this?" she asked.
"I think so. I mean I see Bobby every day and I'm not about to spoil the summer with this, or tell everyone in town that I'm some sort of.... That I'm gay."
"Are you gay?" she asked, in a quiet tone. I saw "the look" on her face, that intense, slightly worried look she uses when she asks a simple question, but knows the answer is real important.
I took in a deep breath and answered honestly. "I don't know. I don't think so." I told her about the last dream. "I'm making love to a girl, not Bobby, but it's Bobby as if he was a girl. I don't know. I mean at the pool, and
sometimes...I look at him and see him as a girl, too. I know he's not and he'd kill me,or try to kill me, if I said that, but in the dreams I love them both, I mean, I mean, sometimes I see him as Shannon and sometimes I see him as Bobby and I love both of him...her, whatever. Sorry, this is so hard to explain."
She looked at me for a moment. "Don't be afraid to tell me, if you do decide you're gay, okay? It's nothing to be ashamed of, but I still feel that something is wrong here. If you keep having these dreams, I'd like to make an appointment for you with a dream specialist."
"That sounds expensive. I don't want you and Dad fighting over me."
"We won't. I don't think your father would be quite so understanding about all of this. He would go to any route if he thought it would cure you of being gay. I know that can't happen, but you are still too young to worry about if this is going to be permanent, or whether it's just a phase."
I nodded, and waited for the Richards to get there.
Three
The last thing I wanted to do was to give Bobby the wrong ideas, but as we sat drinking shakes in the food court, waiting for his Mom, I couldn't help notice how cute he looked, the way he grinned, and even the way he sucked down the chocolate. A couple of times he looked up at me, then blushed and looked back down.
After a while, he gave me a long look. "Well? Are you gonna kiss me or what?"
"Huh?" I said.
His grin turned crooked. "I swear ever since we got here you've been looking at me like you want to kiss me or something."
"Come on, Bobby, don't be gross. I was thinking about stuff."
"Said the fox to the rabbit," he said quickly. The way he looked at me, though, made him look anxious. "Do you want to kiss me?" he whispered.
"Not here," I blurted out. That wasn't what I wanted to say. His smile grew almost too large for his face.
"Oh, yeah? Where? Some place romantic?"
I slugged him, but not hard. "Come on, I mean.... Look, I've been having this dream about you, well, us. And...."
"This I've gotta hear," he said, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on the table while he stared at me like I was the only other person in the world. I almost broke up over his expression.
"Okay, see, in this dream, you're a girl and we're going out. There, I said it."
"Yeah?" he asked with a frown on his face. "Am I pretty?"
"A major babe, I mean, you are hot."
"Then how do you know it's me?" he asked again.
'Because every time I try to kiss you or do anything the girl turns into you."
Bobby's face went from puzzled to shocked in a matter of seconds. He started laughing his guts out. I thought he'd never stop. "Sorry," he managed to say. He grabbed my hand and held on. It felt so natural that I didn't protest. "Man, that has to be the most frustrating thing I've ever heard. You've got this gorgeous babe and she turns into me. What happens then?"
"I wake up, or I don't care and kiss her anyway," I said. "But it's not you I'm kissing, just this girl with your face."
His eyes sparkled. "You know I'm here for you, don't you, if you want to see what it's like in real life? I mean you are really cute, in a little kid sort of way, and until you have a major growth spurt you are not gonna be a babe magnet,but I can help...."
I stared at him for a moment. "Look, I'm not into guys, Bobby, no matter what the dream says. I mean in the dream this girl has your face but she feels like a girl, and her name is Shannon."
The blood drained from Bobby's face. His hand slid away from mine and he suddenly looked nervous. "Huh? Will, does this girl call you anything but 'Will'? I mean by another name? Like Mark?"
"Yeah, but how did you know that?" I said, shocked.
He glanced up, and held his fingers to his lips. "We need to talk about this. Please. Hi, Mom? Ready to go?" he asked her.
"Yes, I'll take you both home, but after that I have to go out, without you."
"Fine," Bobby said. "Can Will stay over with me?"
She glanced at me, and shrugged. "Sure, just as long as you call Will's Mom when we get home so she knows where you are."
Mrs. Richards loaded both of us down with bags, and took off on her errands without coming inside with us. Bobby opened the door.
"Just put the stuff over there," he said. "You want anything? We got diet everything."
"No, thanks," I said. I picked up the phone, called home and left a message on the machine. Bobby came up behind me, put his arms around my waist, and hugged. "Okay," I said when I hung up. "We need to talk, but Robert, my man, I'm not asking you for a date."
I saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes, but he let go. "I had dreams like that before. I was this girl named Shannon and I was in love with a guy named Mark. I didn't know it was you, but it makes sense. You are my best friend in the world...."
"I thought that was Jason," I said, and beeped him on the nose.
"Only when I'm mad at you. Which is all the time, and if you don't stop doing that it will be Jason again right now. I told Mom about the dreams, and she didn't think it was anything. But now I'm not so sure." He walked to his room, and I followed. While Bobby rummaged in his closet, I stretched out on the bed, and tossed a nerf ball at the ceiling. He brought over a green box, dusted it off, and stretched out next to me. Inside was a pile of loose papers with pictures sketched on them. Bobby dug through them and grabbed one from near the bottom.
"I started doing this when I was having those dreams all the time. I still have them, but not that often. Here," he said and handed over a picture. "It's Mark. What do you think?"
I stared. "This is great. I mean, that's him -- me. I see myself in mirrors from time to time. Did you do Shannon?"
He nodded and handed over the next picture. "Here, in a lot of my dreams we went to this place, the Piney Branch Motel. I know we were married, but I think we found it, you know, exciting. I mean," his face flushed. "I never thought I would ever talk about this with anyone, let alone you, Mark -- Will," he corrected himself quickly.
"What's this?" I said and picked up an old newspaper clipping.
"The motel burned down about twenty-five years ago. A lot of people died, but I actually checked and there wasn't anyone there named Mark or Shannon. It must have been awful. I remember that in my dreams, we didn't live anywhere near here, but I guess we thought it was a nice spot for vacations or something."
"It's a dream, Bobby, that's all. There isn't any use worrying about the details of a dream. I didn't even see the name of the motel, but I only had the dream once. I...."
He wrapped his arms around my neck, then looked down. "It doesn't all have to be a dream." He licked his lips, looked up at me, and half of me wanted to run for all I was worth, but the rest of me wrapped my arms around his waist, and pulled him closer.
I closed my eyes before moving down to kiss him, and I held the kiss forever. I held him tightly, as if I would never let go. Bobby opened his mouth, and licked my lips. I got the message, and found his tongue with my own. Bubblegum, he tastes like bubblegum, I thought, and slowly pulled away. He grinned, and pulled me back down on top of him.
Besides my Mom and sometimes my Dad when I was small, I had never kissed anyone. But I knew what to do. I found myself pulling Bobby's t-shirt off him so I could feel his skin. He was soft, smooth and as silky as a girl. I didn't want to let go but, if I didn't, I think I would have gone a lot further than either one of us wanted, just then. Or so I thought.
Bobby kissed me again, without holding on, then rubbed the back of my neck. "I love you, Will. I really do." He looked away. "I mean..."
"It's okay. Look, we had to get that out of our systems, right? Bobby, I love you, too, and I mean that with all my heart, but it's Shannon I want."
He rubbed his hand against my crotch. So I had a hard-on straining against my jeans. He didn't say a word as he pulled down the zipper and started beating me off. He looked up, and kissed me as I finished all over his sheets.
"Not even a little bit for me?" he asked.
"Okay, so, you turn me on, but it's her I'm thinking about. It's her...I don't care. It's you I want," I whispered in his ear. He helped me out of my clothes.
"I know what to do," he said as I pulled off the rest of his clothes. He did, and in a matter of minutes, we became lovers, almost as much as Mark and Shannon.
Bobby drifted off to sleep, with a warm smile on his lips. Man, he looked beautiful, sleeping like that. I got out of bed, dressed, and headed for the bathroom. I didn't have to go, I just wanted to think, but my thoughts seemed way too disjointed to make any sense. What had I done? God, I had made love to a boy, I mean, I had sex with him. I was a pervert, a freak, a queer, I told myself, but I knew that there was no way I would give this up. I loved Bobby and half of me wanted to tell the whole world. The rest of me didn't want to get beat up by the rest of the world, so I'd keep quiet, but...he loved me too. Those dreams had to mean something, but what?
I went back to the bedroom, and shook Bobby awake. "Hey, dufus, when is your Mom gonna get home and do you want to be naked when she does?"
He shook his head. Then, he sat up, smiled at me and stood up and melted into my arms. I couldn't resist. I kissed him and kept kissing him until I heard a car in the driveway. Finally tearing himself away from me, he threw on some clothes, kissed me one more time, and we walked out to the living room,. We had the TV on and were slouched comfortably in front of it before Mrs.Richards made her entrance.
I think Bobby and I must have been sitting a bit too close together, because she raised an eyebrow as she looked at us, but then, without comment, showed us her new hair style.
I left, as soon as I could, and ran home. "Mom? Dad?"
"I'm here," Mom called out from the kitchen. "Dad's still at work. What's the matter?"
I walked to the kitchen myself, stuck my nose in the fridge, and settled on a soda. "You know that dream guy you wanted me to see? I want to seem him, or her, or you know."
"Who are you and what have you done to our son?" she asked me and tousled my hair.
"Bobby had the same dream, Mom. He knew all about it, more than I did."
"Okay, we make the appointment."
That night, my dreams turned stupid. I didn't dream about Shannon, only Bobby, but I saw Bobby in girl's clothes. He swished around in skirts and dresses like some drag queen and I woke up trying not to laugh. I could deal with the fact that Bobby was a boy and that I was gay a lot easier than I could with the picture of Bobby trying to be a girl.
Four
The "Dream Guy" actually turned out to be a girl, a nice lady in her early thirties, I guessed. She had a regular office, just like a doctor, and a waiting room, but she didn't have that many patients waiting. I sat down, found a computer magazine, and tried to avoid my Mom's glances.
"You are okay with this?"
"Yes, Mom, for the millionth time. I want to be here. Bobby wants to know what she says, too."
"You're spending a lot of time with Bobby these days. What about Frank and Paul?"
"What about them?" I asked with a shrug. "They're out of town on vacation, remember? Bobby is here." I probably should have stopped there, but I couldn't resist teasing Mom a bit. "Oh, and by the way, as soon as we turn eighteen we're moving to some place that will let us get married. Think he would look good in a long, white gown?" I nearly choked when I realized what I'd said, but she made a face and then took it as a joke. She laughed.
"Okay, point taken. But first meet the girl of your dreams and then we can talk about gowns."
I gave her a grin. "That's why I'm here, Mom. I have met the girl of my dreams, but she keeps turning into Bobby Richards. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?"
She shook her head, and sighed. "Funny, very funny."
Not long after that, I was called into see Dr. Laura Meyers. She had a very large office, complete with a couple of overstuffed chairs, a sofa, and lots of file cabinets. There were lots of diplomas hanging on the walls, but I couldn't tell from what school, or what they were for, or even what kind of doctor she was.
"Hello, William. Is it Bill, or maybe Billy?" she asked as we shook hands.
"Will," I said with a shrug and sat down. At least, Mom hadn't followed me inside.
"And you are thirteen?"
"I'll be fourteen next week," I pointed out. She looked nice, I mean from the way she smiled. She had light brown hair, gray eyes, and a lot of laugh lines.
"So, have you ever been to a counselor before? A shrink?"
I shook my head. "No, but I am going nuts."
"So I understand. Don't worry. I think all kids are a bit crazy, but most of them grow out of it. We've never met before, and if I ask you something that you don't want to answer, it's okay, just let me knowá³or, if anything makes you feel uncomfortable. I will be taking notes as we talk, but it's not like I'm evaluating everything you say. Sometimes I have trouble remembering.
"Okay," she cleared her throat, and poured herself a glass of water. "Want some? If you do later, let me know. Where do you want to begin? Your mother tells me you are troubled with a dream. We can start there, or....?"
I shrugged. "Okay, I've been having this dream," I started talking, and as soon as I opened up I spilled my guts. "... So, the dreams are the same, sort of. I'm always Mark, Bobby is always Shannon, and I just see different things like the dance or the motel."
"And you said Bobby has had the same dreams?"
I nodded. "He drew some pictures of us, and he's dead on. I see Mark in the mirror from time to time. I wish I was that good looking, and man, Shannon is a total babe.... Sorry. I...."
"It's okay. I have a couple of teenaged boys at home. I understand something of what you are going through, and don't worry about what you say. My kids don't, and I would rather get to know you no matter how crudely and insensitively you choose to express yourself. Okay?" she flashed me the biggest grin and I had to laugh.
"Okay. From what I remember, Shannon and I love each other, a lot, man do we ever love each other, but every time we start something, she always turns into Bobby. Well, her face turns into Bobby's face, but the rest of her stays Shannon."
"And that's when you wake up?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes we keep going. I don't know. It's like I don't care if it's Shannon or Bobby I'm with."
"Do you have feelings for Bobby outside these dreams?"
"I.... I didn't before the dreams. I mean we were friends, pals, you know. I looked forward to seeing him every day at school, or hanging out with him at the pool, but he wasn't even my best friend. Now? Now it's different. I mean he saw the way I was looking at him, at the mall, and he thought I was gonna kiss him or something. I see him, and I think Shannon, and...."
"Did you kiss him? You don't have to tell me, but it would help if I knew."
"Yes," I blurted out with my cheeks burning. "Yeah, I mean we were in his bedroom, talking about this, and he hugged me, and...he let me know he wanted to as much as I wanted to.... Okay, so he got me turned on. I kissed him, lots of times, and -- we went all the way."
"Okay, thanks for trusting me that much. I doubt it was easy for you. Look, Will, I'm not here to make judgments, and this is normal for boys your age, okay? It doesn't mean you're gay, or that it is anything more than sex play, but I take it you have some strong feelings for Bobby?"
I nodded. "I mean we've, well after that first time, he invited me for a sleepover and he's slept at my house, too. I --we -- it's getting a lot better. I mean that first time was kind of awkward, you know. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, really, but now it's great. I never thought I'd fall in love with a boy."
"What about Bobby?"
I sighed. "He's into this more than I am. I mean, he primps before I come over. He's even plucked his eyebrows a bit, and I think he's curling his eyelashes. Look, Bobby's cute, but not pretty, you know? He doesn't look like a girl and I think he'd look silly in a dress, but he's starting to act like a girl. A couple of times I've heard sales people at the mall call him 'miss'. When they do he looks at me, and winks, but I think he likes it."
"Do any of your parents know about all this?"
I shook my head. "I think Bobby's Mom knows, but she doesn't say, and my Mom? You think I should tell her?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. She seemed to be cool with the idea.... But I'm not ready to tell her."
Dr. Meyers nodded. We talked about nothing much for the rest of the session. She glanced at the clock. "I would like to try something different, next time, okay? In fact, can you come back tomorrow?"
"I'll check with Mom."
"How did it go?" Mom asked me as I left the office.
I shrugged. "I feel better. She wants to see me again tomorrow for something different."
"Okay, fine with me. I'll make the appointment."
The next afternoon, Dr. Meyers asked me to stretch out on the sofa. "Okay, like I said, I wanted to try something a little different. What I would like to do is hypnotize you." She put up a hand to stop my question before I could even suck in the air to ask. "No, I'm not going to make you think you're a dog or anything, just a light trance to get in touch with your subconscious self. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah," I said. Being hypnotized had always sounded cool. She started talking, and before I knew it I began to feel a bit light-headed. I must have dozed off on the sofa.
"Will? Can you hear me?"
"Sure," I said, wondering why she didn't let me sleep.
"I want to talk to you about your dreams. The ones about Shannon and Mark."
"I promised Shannon that we would always be together. I meant it, but she was drifting away from me. I couldn't let her go. That's why I kept having those dreams. I needed to remember her."
"You're saying that in your waking life you and Bobby were drifting apart and you needed a reason to stay with him?"
"Kind of. See, we've always been together. The last life we shared he was my wife Shannon, before that I was his little sister, Angela, and before that we were brother and sister and married again before that. We've always been soul mates."
"Tell me about Mark and Shannon."
"Okay, my name was Mark Liam Kennedy, no relation, and she was Shannon Colleen O'Rourke. The problem was my family was well off, and they considered her from the wrong side of town. My sister hated her from the start, but my parents did their best to welcome her into the family once we were married. It's not like my father cut us out of the will, or barred us from the family business, but they were all uneasy about her, no matter how much I told them and she showed them what sort of girl she was. She loved me, and I loved her, and that should have been enough.
"What year were you marred?"
"1971," I said. "Our son, Timothy was born two years later, and.... And we died in 1977." I felt myself start to sweat.
"It's okay, Mark. You do not need to go any further, unless you want to."
"I'm okay. There was a fire at our motel. My sister had paged me and there was no phone in the room so I went to the nearest Seven Eleven to make the call. She wanted to chat. If she hadn't called me like that I would have been there when the fire started.
"It was already blazing, with flames twenty feet into the air above the roof, when I got back to the motel. Shannon wasn't anywhere outside. I still remember it like I'm there as I speak. I fight my way back to the room. There are flames and smoke everywhere. Inside the room I can barely see. She is on the bed. Oh, my God. Someone shot her. Someone shot my beautiful Shannon. She's bleeding. The fire. God, I can't move. I...I don't remember anything after that."
"Will. Listen to me. It was long ago. You are not Mark now. Relax. You're Will again."
"I know, but the memories are so real -- so horrible."
"Tell me about Bobby," she said and I forgot everything else.
"I've known Bobby all my life. We were born, like, a week apart. I was first, and ever since Kindergarten we've been friends. I promised I would always be there to protect him and I was. He's always getting in trouble because of his jokes and I've been in so many fights for him. I'm not a big kid, look at me, or a jock, but I love him."
"I believe you. There is something that sounds wrong about that fire. It seems very coincidental that your sister would call you and get you away from the motel before it happened. Could she have sent someone to kill your wife?"
"Meghan hated Shannon with a passion, but not that much. At least I don't think that much, but how could the guy find our rooms. We didn't check in under our real names, you know, sort of a game we liked to play, but..."
"If the guy had pictures of you and waited for you at the motel?"
"Meghan did know the motel we always went to in Ocean City. That had to be our favorite vacation spot. I checked since the dreams started and it was rebuilt and is apparently even bigger than ever."
"Yes, it has, so if you signed in under a false name there would be no record of your deaths, at least not officially. Okay, I would like to talk to Bobby as well, but I can see why this is happening now. Your relationship with Bobby now. What do you feel about it?"
"It's great. It's what we both want, a lot, and it's not important what the outside looks like, you know. It's who the person is inside."
"I know. Will, I am going to count down from five and as I do you will feel more awake...."
***
I opened my eyes, surprised that I had fallen asleep. "Whoa, was that all for real? I really was this Mark Kennedy?"
Dr. Meyers shook her head. "Under hypnosis most people have what are called past life memories. This doesn't mean that reincarnation is real, or that you really were Mark, just that you have these memories and they are affecting your life in the here and now.
"If, as you say, you used fake names at the motel, then there could still be missing person reports out for Mark and Shannon. Your son, Timothy would only be twenty-nine, so he should still be alive. If you feel the need to pursue this, however, please remember that you are no relation to that family any more, and that you have no claim on them. Do not disturb them for something you cannot possibly prove."
I nodded. "Thanks, but right now it's tough enough being me. I don't want to be someone else, too. I don't know those people and, if my sister did arrange that fire, I don't want her thinking I could rat on her after all these years.
All I want to do is figure out what comes next with Bobby and me."
She gave me the warmest smile. "Well said, young man. I would like to see Bobby, if you can bring him in. If not, please, make an appointment for next week."
"I will. Thanks.
Five
"We checked into that motel under different names? Why?" Bobby demanded. We were sitting cross-legged in his bedroom, a game board set up between us as an alibi in case someone walked in on us.
"We were playing some kind of sex game. I thought you'd get a kick out of that. Let me see that clipping about the fire."
Bobby opened the green box, and handed over the paper. I read through it, then stopped.
"Listen to this. '... During the fire, one man, identified as Carl Jones from the registration, fought his way back into the fire to save his wife. Both were found dead, and almost burned beyond recognition....'"
"See? Carl Jones. That was me. I remember fighting my way back to get you, but you were already dead. Shot. There was nothing I could do."
"You didn't have to die with me," Bobby said, quietly, but his eyes belied his words and his hand reached out to squeeze into mine.
"I don't think that was the plan. I was going to carry you outside and we both would be safe. I think I was so shocked that you had been killed that I lost track of everything else and the fire got me, too." I looked at him, and frowned.
"No wonder I was always fighting every bully in school over you. I wasn't going to let anyone hurt you ever again."
"Yeah, and now everyone knows you're a scrapper. Will? Yeah, he may be small but stay away from him. He's a fighter."
"Now what?" I asked him. "We know what those dreams mean, but what about us?"
"That's easy," Bobby said. "Come on."
I followed him out of his room, and downstairs to the living room. He logged onto the computer and clicked online.
"We do a search. Let's see what else we can find?"
For the next couple hours we did just that. We found tons of reports and an 800 number to call, but there, in black and white and html, I saw pictures and stories about Mark and Shannon Kennedy. Nothing had been updated for years,
but the sites were still maintained, and someone was still looking for them.
"You think we should call?" Bobby asked me.
"I guess. I mean we just trying to get information. I'll do it." I called the number, left my name and email address, asked for more information and let it go. "So, that's done. We know that they really did live, and die -- man, this is so weird -- but are you okay with all of this? I mean about us and everything."
"Will, I love you," he said.
"Robert?" We both spun around at the sound of Mrs. Richards' voice. "That may not be the most appropriate thing to say to your friend."
"I love him back just as much," I said, quietly.
"Mom, this is Mark, you know, the guy from my dreams. It was all real."
"I thought you said that was Jason?" she said.
Bobby looked at me, and nodded. "Okay, I made a mistake. I didn't know it was Will, until he started having the same dreams about me being Shannon. See? Look at all of this stuff we found. We were married. We had a son, and Will's doctor wants to see me, too. I'd like to go."
"Slow down, Bobby. There's a lot here to take in. Run that by me again."
I took the lead, and filled her in on almost everything. "So you see, from what I remember about this, Bobby and I have been together in almost all of our lives."
It took a lot more discussion, but finally Mrs. Richards said, "That is incredible, but when is your next appointment with this 'specialist?' I will go with you and Bobby."
****
"What do you think?" Bobby stood on my doorstep with his hair done up in bangs, and the rest of it pulled back in the beginnings of a ponytail. "My hair grows fast enough. And I could use a fall to give it more length."
I stood aside and let him in. "Mom's not here, now, but...oh heck!" I took him out to the kitchen, grabbed a soda from the fridge and opened it for him. "Here, drink this." I shoved the soda into his hand and sat him down at the kitchen table. "Bobby, you aren't a girl. I'm not asking you to be a girl, either. You are cute." He grinned at that. "Okay, and maybe with a bit of makeup and longer hair you would look good as a girl, sort of, but is this what you want?"
Someone knocked on the door. "Great, hold that thought," I said as I went to answer it.
A man stood there, staring down at me. "Oh, I -- I think I'm trying to find your father. Is he home?"
"No, he's at work," I said with a shrug. "You want to leave a message?"
"Your father is William Connolly?" he asked.
"No, I'm Will. My Dad's name is George. What's this about?"
"You? Someone by the name of William Connolly was looking for information about my father."
"You're Tim?" Bobby cut in. "Sorry, Tim Kennedy?"
He nodded, "But how did you know and, I have to ask, do you know anything about my parents? They've been missing for twenty-five years, and I've been following every lead I could get."
"Come in," Bobby said, breaking the silence. "Hi, I'm Bobby Richards. This is Will Connolly and it's really a long story, Mr. Kennedy. If he won't tell you, I will." Bobby poked me in the ribs to make certain I understood.
"Thanks," I said and took up the conversation again. "Look, Mr. Kennedy, I wasn't trying to bother you. I was looking for information, too. I know this is gonna sound stupid.... Look, your father died in a motel fire here, twenty-five years ago, trying to save your mother, but she was already dead."
"Okay," he said sitting down. "I kind of figured something like that happened, but how do you know?"
"That's the weird part of it," Bobby said. "Would you like some coffee, or something? Will's Mom has a pot in the kitchen."
"No, thanks. I would like to hear the story, no matter how weird it is."
I nodded. "See, your Mom and Dad liked to play games, you know, things to make their sex life more interesting. They signed into the motel as Mr. and Mrs. Carl Jones, which is why there was never any record of your parents' death."
"So how did you find out about it?"
"Good question," I said walking around the room. "There isn't a good way to explain this.... Help me out here, Bobby."
"Me? Tell him, Will. He's got a right to know."
I looked at the man, and shook my head. "I was him," I said. "I mean, in my last life I was Mark Liam Kennedy and Bobby was Shannon O'Rourke Kennedy. We stayed together in this life, sort of, and we both had these dreams, over-and-over about Mark and Shannon. I went to a specialist and she hypnotized me and I remembered.
"Look," I added quickly. "I know it doesn't mean anything. I'm a kid, I'm not your Dad, but I've got the memories if that helps. That's why we've been searching out information about them, too. We wanted to know more."
Tim looked at both of us. Bobby nodded. "I had the dreams first. I knew I was Shannon, but not who Mark was. He dreamed about being Mark. I know it sounds crazy, but that's it. If you believe in reincarnation this is who we are now. If not, please, we're sorry. We never thought you would get involved when Will called that number the other day. That's all."
"It's okay," he said after a while. "I've had past life memories, too."
"Oh yeah?" I asked him.
"Doesn't matter. Look, kids, thanks for sharing this with me. I guess I was still hoping to find them alive." He laughed for a second. "Actually, I guess I did find them alive, but not the way I expected. Do you know what happened that night?"
"I do," I said. "We think whoever killed your mother started the fire. She was shot and by the time I got back to the motel the fire was blazing, especially in her room. Your aunt Meghan paged me and I had to drive to the nearest payphone to call her back. You know, she knew we were at that motel. I'm sure she figured out what happened. My doctor, the 'specialist,' thought she knew about the murder, if she didn't set it up herself. We think that's why she called me when she did -- to get me out of there. If that's the case, I guess she never figured I'd go back in after your mother...but she didn't realize how much I loved her. I couldn't do anything else.
"I told the doctor that was crazy. Meghan hated Shannon with a passion, but not enough to kill her, but I guess that's one mystery that will never be solved, unless Meghan comes clean. Is she still alive?"
"Very much so. My grandparents raised me. Grandma is still alive, but Grampa died last year. Aunt Meghan used to talk a lot about you, Mark, but not a word about my mother."
"Should have known," Bobby said. "I was a nice person, and I would have been a great mom, I know that. I dreamed about you, but you were a toddler when this happened. I only wish we could have let you know why we didn't come home."
"You did, now, and after all these years I'm glad to get closure. I believe your story. I know no one else will, but thanks...."
The front door opened, and Mom walked inside and started as she turned and saw the strange man in her kitchen. You could see her swallow her surprise and put a smile on her face as she said, "Hi, I'm...."
"Mom," I interrupted. "Uh, this is Mr. Kennedy.... He...."
"Mrs. Connolly, glad to meet you. It would seem your son used to be my father and we just getting reacquainted." Suddenly realizing how bizarre that sounded, he blushed and hurriedly continued. "I was just leaving," he said and
stood up.
We saw him to the door. "Thanks for coming, Tim," Bobby said.
"Yeah, uh, thanks," I added.
"What was that all about?" Mom demanded, turning on us as soon as the door closed.
I told her the whole story as Bobby fixed her a cup of coffee.
"So, when I called for more information, Tim must have gone through hoops trying to track me down from the email address, but he did and he came here trying to get word about his father. We told him what we knew and that was it."
"Okay, but look, both of you. I know you are almost fourteen, but I really don't want you letting strange people into the house, no matter what. Okay?"
I nodded. Busted, and she was probably right. We had no idea what Tim would be like as a grownup. Bobby seemed to be a sorry as I was.
"This time it worked out, there had better not be a next time."
I took Bobby upstairs, pushed him into my room, and closed the door. "Okay Shannon, my dear, you didn't answer my question."
"Which question was that Mark, dearest?" Shannon asked coyly.
"I'm not really Mark and you're not really Shannon. I'm talking to you, Bobby, my best friend, and I want to know if you want to be a girl?"
"I couldn't answer you in front of the baby, Mark, sweetheart," Shannon smiled guilelessly. "I think I really do need to see that 'specialist' lady about this, but you can trust me, I'm not trying to be a girl for you. Well, if you like it, great, but....
Bobby started pacing the room. "You don't know what this has been like for me. For as long as I can remember, I thought I should have been a girl. I didn't know why. My mom listened to me, and didn't laugh, but she didn't do anything about it, either. I guess if my Dad was still around I would have been told to shut up, but he's gone off to California or someplace like that to find himself and I have never heard one word from him.
"At least you have a Dad," Bobby sighed, after a second.
"Yeah, I do, and he's the greatest, and the noisiest, and the most pig-headed dad you ever want to meet. Think he would understand if I told him about us?" I asked him.
"No, but then who says you have to? I don't know. The worst part of this is the fact that I like being a boy. I mean, I like hanging out at the mall with the guys, playing blood and gore shoot 'em ups at the arcade -- everything. The other half of me loves to feel feminine. I thought it was great to see you riding up on your white stallion to rescue me from the bulliesá³and my big fat mouth. You know how great I felt when you did that? You were my friend and my hero.
"Okay, so maybe I wanted you to rescue me the way you did and I swear it never dawned on me, dumb blond here, that you didn't want to fight for my sake. I'm sorry, but I never thought for a second I could even tease you about having feelings for you that weren't one hundred percent male. I even made it a point to make you think you weren't my best friend."
I nodded. "I wondered, but yeah, I would have freaked if you said anything before I had those dreams. Man, I cared for you, and I wouldn't even think about it myself. But my question?"
"I'm trying to figure it out myself."
"Okay, fair enough," I said. "But for now, just so you know, if you start wearing skirts and acting like some drag queen I don't know you."
Six
A week later, I collected Bobby to go to the Dream doctor, and for the first time I noticed a hint of powder on his face. "Does your Mom know about this?"
"She bought me the powder, why?" he said and grabbed my hand.
My mother didn't say anything as we walked back to her car. Bobby climbed into the back seat, and I took the front seat. I know she saw the way he held my hand, but...I'd tell her in time,
Dr. Meyers seemed delighted to see the both of us. She made certain his mother had signed the appropriate approvals and took us into her office. Then, she asked Bobby a few questions before explaining that she wanted to hypnotize him as well. He agreed, eagerly I thought, and he stretched out on the couch. This time I got to watch, but the one thing I noticed when Bobby closed his eyes was how pretty he looked. I didn't know if I was just seeing things, or if he was actually looking more like a girl.
"Bobby, tell me about the dreams you've been having."
"Sure," he said. He didn't sound weird or anything, just like he was talking normally. "I found Mark again, and he was right under my nose the whole time. I'm finding I love him just as much now as when we were married."
"Okay, what about your marriage?" she asked.
"It wasn't the first marriage for us. We've been together for a long time, but this time was fantastic. Mark was so dreamy, and he loved me so deeply. We had a great marriage and I can't believe my father hated me enough to end it."
"Your father?"
Bobby nodded. "That bastard was sent to jail when I was a teenager for what he did to me. He deserved it, too, but he got out and wanted to get back at me. He set things up with Mark's sister, that bitch, and she told him where we
were staying. We were at our favorite sleazy hotel in Ocean City and my father must have been waiting for us. As soon as Mark left to answer Meghan's page he almost broke down the door.
Something seemed to change and her next words seemed to be addressed to someone else. "What are you doing here?" Bobby started shaking on the couch. "Get out of here. Mark will be right back. That bitch. You won't get away with this, Dad. No! Please. Don't shoot me! Help! Help me someone!"
Bobby fell limp on the couch. "Oh God, help me. He's setting a fire. Mark, get out of here. Jesus, Joseph and Mary. Can't you hear me Mark? Get out of here. You can't die too. Someone has to live for Timmy. Please Mark..."
It was all I could do not to go over to the couch to hold him. Dr. Meyers glanced at me and shook her head. Tears rolled down Bobby's cheeks.
"Bobby, listen to me. That happened a long time ago. You can come back now."
"Oh, I couldn't stop him from dying, too. Mark -- Will. Thank God he's okay now and just as sweet as he always was."
"You really seem to love Will," Dr. Meyers noted.
"Yes, I do. He's always been wonderful as a boy, not so much when he lives as a girl, but as a boy he's the best. And he sees it too. He doesn't care that I'm a boy in this life. I don't want to be a boy. I don't think I ever did, but I didn't get the choice. I want to be a girl again for Will, but he's not that comfortable with it. It's just plumbing that needs to be fixed, not my soul."
"Bobby, if you did have the choice, would you dress as a girl?"
"In a heartbeat," he said. "I've done so before, and I've pulled it off, but Will is such a sweetheart, he'd be the one to give it away since he would be embarrassed about it. He thinks I'm doing this just for him. I'm not."
"What about your parents?" Dr. Meyers asked.
"Dad left when I was a baby. I haven't seen him since and Mom wants me to be happy as either a boy or a girl. She knew about Shannon and Mark long before Will did. At first, I thought my friend Jason was the one and he and I had a fling, but it wasn't the same."
"If you could say anything at all to Will, what would it be?"
"Will, I love you more than anything and you are a real quick learner. Don't worry about me, just let me find my own place, and even if we don't get married this time around I will always love you."
Dr. Meyers looked at me and nodded. I cleared my throat. "Bobby, I love you too, and it's okay for you to do your thing. But please, please, please tell me before you go out with me dressed as a girl."
"But that would spoil the surprise," he answered with an evil grin. I could have slugged him.
"Bobby, I am going to count down from five and I want you to wake up...."
***
Bobby stretched, his eyes fluttered and even awake he still looked damn good. "Whoa. My father did it." He looked at me, and sighed. "No skirts."
"Hot pants," I said. "You've got great legs and you'd look really good in hot pants."
"You really think so?" he asked me, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah, I think so. Really. You'll be great no matter which way you go."
"Okay, now I think the two of you can be happy with this, or did you want to explore other lives? I can help."
"No," I said quickly. "We have to tell Tim not to blab this to anyone. I don't want Shannon's dad to think she could rat him out, you know? I don't think anything Bobby told the police or the judge would count if it came to that, but that guy sounds crazy."
"Tim?" Dr. Meyers asked. "Who is Tim?"
"We started doing some research after the last time I came and we found a web site about Mark and Shannon. I called for more information, and a couple of days later Tim, the guy that was our son, turned up at my door. After he made me," I said and pointed at Bobby, "I told Tim what we knew and why, and he left."
"That may not have been the smartest thing to do, but since it's done, by all means call him back."
Seven
The next day, as I expected, Bobby turned up at my house wearing bright blue hot pants. I mean those pants showed every inch of his legs and more. I found myself straining against my underwear when I saw him. Bobby noticed the reaction and just gave me a crooked grin.
"Is there something the two of you want to tell me?" Mom asked from behind me.
"Uh, yeah -- yes there is," I stuttered, but I was proud of myself for not blushing.
Bobby walked over to me and took my hand. "It was me, Mrs. Connolly. We have loved each other in life after life and this one looks to be the same. I taught him how to do it, that's all, and he's really learning fast."
Mom stared at us, then at Bobby. "Why Bobby Richards, you little hussy."
He broke into a huge grin. "Thanks."
"And if you intend to date my son, you really should do something with your hair, and those pants, just don't make it on you."
"But Will thinks I have great legs, don't you, darling? He wanted me in hot pants not skirts."
I nodded.
"But the color just isn't right for you. This is going to take a lot of work. Come on, sweetie, I have the day off. I'll give you the crash course."
"Mom?" I asked. "Uh, Mom? I thought we were...."
"This is girl stuff, kid. Go play video games or something. Bobbi", she made his name sound feminine somehow. "and I are going to the mall."
The expression on Bobby's face was priceless. "Yeah, girl stuff. Go on, you big lug, I need to get be-you-tea-full for my boyfriend, and I'm not sure if it's you, yet."
"Mom, do you have to get him started like that?" I asked, but it sounded more like a whine. "I'm going to the arcade. You girls have fun."
"We will, sweetheart. Why don't you catch a movie while you're out, too," Mom called after me.
For the next couple of hours, I hung out and played some games, but my heart wasn't in it and I was wasting money. There was nothing playing at the movie theater that I really wanted to see and, looking for something to occupy my time, I idly wondered if Books-A-Million would have something on reincarnation.
Turns out they had a ton of stuff and, since I didn't know where to start, I grabbed as much as I could off the shelf and took the books over to the coffee shop to figure out which one I wanted.
I finally settled on a couple of books, I paid for them and headed for home. It was later than I thought when I opened the front door and called out that I was home. Mom called back from the kitchen and I headed back there, but I never made it past the kitchen door. Instead, I came to a dead stop as I stared at the girl in the kitchen with Mom.
"Put your eyes back in your head, young man," Mom said to me. "What do you think?"
"Bobby?" I asked, stunned. He was gorgeous from head to toe. He, no she wore a dark blue skirt with a white top and she must have had something on underneath the top to give her a figure.
"What do you think?" Mom gently asked again.
"I love it. Okay, so I was wrong about the skirts. You look super, I mean, you really are a major babe. Can I pick them or what?" I wouldn't have believed it was possible, but somehow Bobbi's grin got even bigger.
"Will," Mom said.
"It's okay, Mrs. C.," Bobbi interrupted still beaming. "He can think he picked me if he wants to."
"Whoa, this is something else, Bobby. I never dreamed you'd look like this. I am going to hate seeing you go back to being a boy after this."
"Who says anything about going back?" he asked. "This is what I want."
"What about school?" I asked him. "We start high school in less than two months."
"You just figured that out? I'm talking to Mom about being registered as a girl. The schools are getting good about things like this. We'll see."
Over the next couple of weeks, I did get used to Bobbi as a girl. At least she was no longer the goofball, that he had been and our relationship was getting better and better.
***
Three weeks after Bobbi's crash course, I was home by myself when the phone rang. "Hello?"
"Will, it's Tim Kennedy."
"Oh, uh, hi," I said. My interest in the whole mess had been fading since I sent him the email about Bobbi's memories.
"I checked your story out and everything you told me was correct. I had the police exhume the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Jones and the DNA testing showed that they were my parents. I am having a proper burial for them here, at home. I also confronted my aunt about her phone call and she broke down and admitted everything. She knew that my grandfather intended to kill my mother and she helped him do it. She thought that, by getting you away from the motel with her phone call, she would be saving your life. She never dreamed you would risk going back into the fire. She's been holding this in for the last twenty-five years
and she is glad to get it off her chest. Also, my grandfather died in prison two years after he killed my mother. I'm not sure about the whole story, but he is not a threat to you any more."
"That's a relief," I said.
"Yes, it is, but Will, I was wondering if it would be all right with your parents if I visited you and Bobby from time to time?"
"What for?" I asked. "If you want to hang out with us, I guess that's okay, but do you play video games?"
"I did, but, I kind of thought that maybe, if I did, I could get to know my parents. I know all of this does give me some closure, but you are or were my father and I barely remember you except from pictures."
"Me? I'm just a kid. Look, Mr. Kennedy, please, you won't get any answers from me. I'm not your dad and I can't be. I'm going to be a freshman in high school. It's tough enough being a kid and I'm not gonna try to be your dad, too. We told you everything we know about Mark and Shannon, and we would have to be under hypnosis to get more.
"Look Mr. Kennedy, there is a big part of me that is so sorry about all of this. Really. You grew up not knowing your dad and always wondering. At least, now you know what happened, and that your parents loved you a lot. I know, I wasn't supposed to be the hero type and try to save your mother, but I didn't have a choice.
"I guess what I'm saying is, if you want to come down that's fine with me. There are lots of cool places in town we could go to now, cause it's summer and summer always rocks in Ocean City. But you gotta drive cause I can't and you gotta pay cause I don't get much of an allowance...."
He laughed. "I keep forgetting you are a little kid."
"Not little, I'm fourteen."
"And these cool places have lots of noise and lights and kids screaming?"
"Yeah, they do. No booze, you know, but you could be like my really big brother cause you're so old now and I can teach you how to be cool again."
"What if we just went to a nice restaurant where we could talk?" he asked.
"You mean like Denny's? But that's so dull," I said.
"No, I meant really nice, where they wouldn't allow cut offs and t-shirts."
I sighed, "Then I am like so not there. You gotta lighten up, live a little."
There was a long pause. "Okay, you were right. I'm not ready to hang out with the teen crowd again and I do need to accept that is who you are now. Will, William, you have a great life, enjoy being a kid, and tell Bobby I said hello. I'll keep in touch."
"Sure, Mr. Kennedy. It's cool. I'll tell him." I hung up the phone and shook my head. Somewhere inside me Mark Kennedy was yelling his head off, but what the heck, he's an old dead guy who has nothing to do with me now. I picked up the phone and called Bobbi.
Eight
A couple of weeks later, I had dinner with Bobbi at her place and I couldn't help myself as I sighed happily as I watched her across the table. I swore she was still getting prettier every day, and she swore up and down that she wasn't taking anything, either. Hormones at eighteen maybe, but she was just, or so she said, naturally beautiful now. Not possible, I thought, considering the rather goofy looking boy she had been a month before. Then again, she may have been goofy trying to pass as a boy, I wasn't sure.
Bobbi left the table, walked over to the TV in the living room and turned on the news. I didn't pay attentioná³after all, what was another war or two when we'd had had so many lately. I helped Mrs. Richards take the dishes out to the sink, but stopped as I heard the announcer.
"Coming up, we have the story of two local boys that solved a twenty-five year old murder mystery. We will be right back."
"Did you hear that?" I asked Bobbi.
"What?" she asked back. "I wasn't listening."
"They're talking about us," I said. "I think Tim spilled his guts to the press."
"Oh, shi -- shoot," she said, just barely saving herself from becoming less than ladylike.
"Pay attention, sweetheart, I don't like this one bit."
When the news show came back, after the usual three million or so commercials, the lead story really was ours.
"How real are past life memories? They say that everyone has them under hypnosis, but could those memories be accurate. Mr. Timothy Kennedy of Westchester County, New York, thinks so.
"Twenty-five years ago, when Mr. Kennedy was just a toddler, his parents went on vacation to Ocean City and never returned. They vanished without a trace, that is until last month. Mr. Kennedy created a website, a number of years ago, trying to get information from anyone on what might have happened to his parents. He even set up an eight hundred number, but no one ever called it. But then, last month his first call came through, from a little boy in Ocean City who wanted more information.
"Mr. Kennedy found the youngster only to find out that this child had been having bad dreams and remembered, under hypnosis that he had been Mark Kennedy, Timothy's father. He told Mr. Kennedy what he did remember, and that his best friend in this life, another little boy, remembered being Timothy's mother.
"The story came out, that the Kennedy's had checked into a motel, under assumed names..."
I stood up and tried to turn off the TV. "Do we really need to hear this? They aren't giving out our names."
"Hush," Bobbi said. "I want to hear it, so sit down, like a good boy, and listen."
"You weren't my mother," I complained.
"One of these days, I am going to create a 'mute' button for you. Hush."
"... DNA testing of the remains proved that they were Timothy's parents, and his aunt, confronted with this after twenty-five years, finally confessed her involvement with the murder. The killer, who turned out to be Shannon's father, died in prison, twenty-three years ago.
"The aunt, Ms. Meghan Kennedy, has stated that she would like to meet the boys, and that she has a surprise for them..."
"That bitch," Bobbi snapped. "Not in this or any other lifetime."
"The names of the boys are being held due to their age, but if they are listening and if they want to meet Ms. Kennedy they are instructed to contact Timothy Kennedy...."
"What do you think that surprise is?" I asked. "A time bomb or a couple of live rattle snakes."
"The snakes, definitely the snakes. That suits her."
"May I?" I asked and pointed to the phone. "It's toll free."
"Go for it," Bobbi agreed. "And I want words with our son when you're finished."
I called Tim's number. After the message, I said, "Son, this is your dear, young, dad. What's the big idea of blabbing this to the press? No, we don't want to see Meghan in this or any other lifetime. Oh, and your mother wants a word with you." I handed off to Bobbi.
"Timothy, darling, try to be a good boy and respect your parents' memories and don't tell anyone else about this. We don't want any surprises from the lady that killed us -- unless it's cash, lots and lots of cash, straight from a bank. From now on we'll need to get the Bomb Squad to open the present for us."
"What if it's snakes?" I cut in.
"Oh, right. And Timothy dear, you open the package with them if she gives us poisonous snakes.
"Dear, your father and I hope that you have a wonderful life, even better than the movie and that you leave us out of it. We do not want any more publicity. Thanks and good night to you and all the ships at sea." She giggled as she hung up the phone.
"I hated doing that," Bobbi said as she eased back down on the sofa. "I thought you said you had scared him away?"
"I thought so too. We don't need him hanging out down here, getting in the way."
Bobbi sighed. "I wanted to forget that part; so many regrets, so many might-have-beens. You feel that?"
"What?" I asked. "It doesn't bother me that much, now. I can leave Mark and Shannon behind and just worry about Will and Bobbi. I'm glad I had those dreams and I think you should be too. It looks like you took the chance and
found your true self and I know I took a chance and found my one true love, at least for today."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Bobbi asked.
"Simple. I've got dates every night for the rest of the summer and one of them might be my next true love," I said, with a straight face.
"As if," she sneered. "You, have dates?"
"Sure, I think it was in the horoscope. 'Today is a good day to date someone short and cute'. My phone's been ringing off the hook."
Bobbi stared at me for a second, then threw a pillow at me. "You wish. Short and cute, okay, that's true, but..."
"Don't worry, I turned them all down. After all, you're short and cute too, and it was my horoscope."
The phone rang. A moment later, Mrs. Richards called from the kitchen, "Will, it's your mother."
"I'll get it, thanks," I said and grabbed the phone again. "Mom?"
"Sorry to interrupt, but I just had a call from that man, Tim Kennedy? He wants you to call him back."
"Oh, great. Some people just don't get it. Hang on." I put the phone down and explained to Bobbi. "Tim called my Mom. Since it was your idea to blab the whole thing to him you deal with him."
"Me? You told him. Okay, we'll both call him."
"Mom, Bobbi and I will be right home."
We hurried over to my place, rushed in through the kitchen door and found Mom and Dad in the living room. "Hi, we're here. Where's the number?"
"Well, hello," Dad said to Bobbi. "I'm Will's Dad. I don't think we've met," he said, giving me a thumbs-up.
"Dad, this is Bobbi, my girlfriend. Bobbi, my Dad." I glared at her and she kept her mouth shut. "Mom, if we don't get through to this guy, would you talk to him for us?"
"What's his problem?"
"He wants me to be his dad. I told him I couldn't, but he's not listening. Did you hear the news?"
"It was on the news?" she asked.
"Not our names, but enough." I picked up the phone and dialed. As soon as Tim answered, I said, "Mr. Kennedy, what's with you? Bobbi and I want to get on with our lives and we don't want to keep hearing about this, even on the news."
"Will, I'm sorry. It's an amazing story and it's getting a lot of airtime. I thought you'd be pleased."
"Well, it's weird, and thanks for keeping us out of it, but enough's enough. I can see every crackpot in the world calling us about the past life stuff. And we meant it about Meghan, too."
"I heard your message and that's why I called. She does want to make amends, really. She's broken up about this. She takes full responsibility for Mark and Shannon's deaths. I know the statute of limitations is out on this so she can't be prosecuted, but she wants to give you money. She says it's all she can offer to help make up for the terrible things that happened."
"Sure, yeah, like that's gonna make everything okay. How much," I asked letting greed get the better of me.
"Twenty-five million dollars, each."
"That will do it. Uh, here, talk to Mom. She knows about that kind of stuff." In a daze I handed the phone over to Mom. "Meghan wants to give us twenty-five million -- each."
"I'll take it," Bobbi said. "When I said lots and lots of cash, at least she listened, but can you imagine the stuff we can buy with that kind of money? I don't have to worry about the plumber, you know."
I looked at her feeling blank until she looked down. "Oh, right, the plumber. And I'll get the Ferrari so you'll look good wherever we drive."
"Deal. Do we have to see her?" he said, putting a damper on the whole mess.
"She could give Tim the money and he can send it to us. I don't know."
Mom was still on the phone, working out the details. "Hey, Dad. Did you hear? I'm getting twenty-five million dollars."
He looked at me, and shook his head in disbelief, and went back to his paper.
"I need to call Mom," Bobbi said.
Mom put the phone down. "Apparently, that is what Mark was due to inherit from his father's estate. Since there was no proof of his death, except the seven-years declaration, his father ordered the money put in escrow until there was. It would have gone to charity, but Meghan, as executor wants it go to you two."
"But that's crazy," I said.
"Yes, and that's why she wants it this way. She said once she found out for sure that you knew the truth about what happened to Mark and Shannon, she waited to see if it was some sort of scam or blackmail scheme that you kids were trying to pull. When neither of you asked for money, or, in fact anything but to be left alone, she figured you had to be legit. She said the only time you even mentioned money was to tell Timothy that he had to pay at Denny's because you didn't get much of an allowance.
"You get a very generous allowance, young man," Mom chastised me, but with a smile so I'd know she was teasing. "You could afford to treat your son to a meal, but no, greedy to the end."
"He wanted to go someplace really fancy," I said.
"Without me?" Bobbi asked. "I'm shocked."
"Father -- son thing, you know. Can I get a bigger allowance now?"
"She wants all of us, her, her mother and Timothy to meet and she will give us checks at that point. You two will have trust funds with half the money until you are grown, and the rest is ours. I think we can manage to live on the interest on twelve million dollars very easily, but no Ferrari's, at least until you are old enough to drive."
"What was that?" Dad asked, putting down his paper.
"We're going to be rich," I told him.
"Not rich, but very comfortable," Mom said. "We're getting twelve million dollars and Will is getting a trust fund with another thirteen million.
Bobbi is getting the same thing."
He looked at the both of us. "Rich and pretty. I just went for the major babe, not the money," he observed smiling up at Mom. "You can pick them, kiddo. Now, may I ask why we're getting all this money and when?"
"Remember I told you about Will's dreams and what they meant? His family from his last life is giving him the money he would have inherited if he had lived. Long story. We can call Ms. Kennedy any time and set up the meeting. Oh, yes." She picked up the phone and dialed.
"Helen? Hi, I have some great news about Bobbi. Would you come over here?"
Nine
The one thing I hadn't expected out of all of this was to see Meghan looking so old. She was in her fifties, but still, the haggard lines across her face told a long story. Bobbi stood beside me and I held her hand the first time we were introduced to the person that had been my sister. Meghan sighed and nodded her head.
"Now I am convinced, seeing the two of you looking like that." Nothing else, not even a hello, but she held out a picture of Mark taken when he was fourteen.
I stared. In spite of his Beatle haircut, we could have been -- well, not twins but close. "I read that people tend to look the same from life to life," I commented, "But it's true."
Bobbi took the picture, and smiled. "Yes! If Mark looked like this when he was your age, just as short and scrawny, there is hope for you."
"That's short and cute," I said.
"As if," she answered back.
The lady that used to be my mother, Mrs. Bridgette Kennedy had the same reaction to the both of us. Bobbi hadn't changed much either, comparing her to Shannon as a young lady -- same red hair, same freckles and snub nose.
Walking through the house that Mark had grown up in, made me feel weird. I kept getting chills, especially in his old room. I was glad enough to get out of it.
The Kennedy's took us to the fanciest restaurant in town. I didn't see what was so great about the food, Denny's would have been just as good, but I kept my mouth shut. Bobbi liked it and I knew that from now on I was going to be in for trouble when I wanted to go out for something to eat.
"To the two of you," Mrs. Kennedy toasted. "Childhood sweethearts, again. Are you going to get married in this life?"
Bobbi blushed while I spluttered at the question. I looked at Bobbi, and smiled. "I love her, but that's, like, a really big decision we don't have to make for years and years."
"Yes," Bobbi said. "We're going to get married, have a big family and I think this time we will finally get things right."
I shook my head. "You're supposed to make me think I decided that."
"Oh, don't get so upset. You decided it the last time. I remember it perfectly. You put your big, strong arms around me and told me you would love me forever. Now it's my turn. Oh, Will, you are so short and cute. I'll love you forever, but if you stay short and scrawny I'll have to rethink that, of course. Next time, you can ask me even if we're both girls." She fluttered her eyelashes at me until I laughed.
"Okay, I see how that works." I looked around the restaurant, picked up a water glass and held it out to everyone. 'To Mark and Shannon."
"To Mark and Shannon," they answered.
Sometimes it pays, big time, to listen to your dreams.
The Ultimate TG Experience
by McKenzie Rigby
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
The Rigby Narratives:
The Ultimate TG Experience
by
McKenzie Rigby
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter One -- The Placebo Effect
"I don't think so," a voice said from behind him.
The straps on his head prevented McKenzie from turning to see who had spoken,
but he was fairly certain that it was not his savior. The voice was light and
lilting, a woman's voice, but there was a viciousness beneath those sweet sounds
that sent icicles to the very core of McKenzie's being.
"Don't struggle, you'll only hurt yourself, and we wouldn't want that
now, would we?" she said with mock concern. Slowly the woman strolled into
his line of sight. Mac was surprised at how short she must have been, only her
head and shoulders were visible given how little he could turn his head. She
was of indeterminate age, anywhere from thirty to sixty, and a bit on the plump
side, with short hair in a pageboy style and a pretty face, except for the sneer.
"Help me, please. Undo the straps and let me out of here." McKenzie
couldn't quite keep the whine out of his voice.
"I don't think so, since I was the one who put you there." She sauntered
over to a stool that put her eyes even with Mac's and gracefully settled onto
it.
"But why? Who are you? What did I ever do to you?"
"Questions, questions," she sighed. "Always the same stupid
questions. Well, we'll get nowhere until we've dealt with the minutia so listen
carefully.
"My name is unimportant. You may call me 'Cariclo'," she said smiling
as she paused to watch his reaction. Mac blinked once and then the tension washed
out of him as his body relaxed, his chin gently dropped to his chest, and his
eyes closed.
Sliding off the stool, Cariclo strode to a desk located behind McKenzie's chair.
As if on cue, a man in a white lab coat, entered McKenzie's line of sight, wheeling
a cart loaded with electronic equipment into the room. Picking up a pair of
headphones, she placed them over the sleeping man's head and typed a command
on the attached computer. She paced as the computer spoke to him, strengthening
the hypnotic commands, inserting and reinserting a series of post-hypnotic commands.
The tapping of the steel tips on her low heels echoed about the small room in
place of Mac's screams as she waited for the program to run its course.
It took nearly an hour and even pacing had worn thin when the computer's tinny
speakers announced, "Program complete."
"At last," she sighed and removed the headphones. "Kenzie, dear,
wake up."
-=-=-=-=-
His eyes opened and he smiled. "Oh, hello Mrs. Everes, how are you today?"
It was as if he was unaware he was in a dank basement strapped to a padded chair.
"Fine thank you Kenzie. Are you ready to return to work now?"
"Certainly, Mrs. Everes. Thank you for letting me rest my head for a moment.
Migraine headaches are absolutely horrid."
"I understand dear. Just give me a moment. I'll tell you when you can
leave."
"Certainly Mrs. Everes," he smiled brightly as he waited.
"Okay Kenzie, dear. You may leave now."
Without another glance at his surroundings, McKenzie Rigby walked out of the
room and headed back to his office on the tenth floor of the Everes Building.
Sitting down and quickly positioning himself comfortably, Mac returned to his
analysis of the current sales figures and calculated trends, working diligently
on them until quitting time.
-=-=-=-=-
Unlike most junior executives at Everes Pharmaceuticals Ltd., McKenzie lived
modestly in a small condominium within walking distance of the office. It was
a two bedroom unit, but only because he had purchased it from the estate of
the previous occupant at significantly less then the going rate for a single
bedroom unit. Apparently the greedy relatives had accepted the first offer made,
only interested in getting their hands on more of the deceased's money. With
the exception of a few books on esoteric subjects that no one, even Mac, had
any interest in, the apartment had been stripped bare, as if a swarm of locusts
had passed through it.
McKenzie was not a joiner and with no family, he had few keepsakes. The apartment
was tastefully, albeit minimally furnished and the second bedroom, actually
the larger of the two, was left vacant. Mac entered it only to dust, and even
that was infrequent. Returning home from work, he dropped his briefcase in the
entry closet along with is raincoat and began heating the meal he had prepared
the night before. Usually, he felt washed out after having a migraine, yet tonight
he did the dishes and rather than stretching out for a bit of mind numbing television,
he felt the urge to clean the apartment.
Saving the second bedroom for last, he entered it for the first time in nearly
a month, lightly dusting and then vacuuming. On a whim, he opened the blinds
and let the last of the day's sunlight stream into the room. The many hues,
blurred by the light evening smog, seemed richer and more varied then usual
and he stood there watching the light fade while feeling at total peace with
himself. Only when the last of the orange red glow had disappeared did he move
again, leaving the blinds open as he left to shower and prepare for bed.
Earlier than usual, especially considering the time spent cleaning the condo,
McKenzie was in bed reading another story in one of the mystery magazines he
always kept by his bed. With the fourth yawn, he knew it was time to stop, even
though he still hadn't reached the point where the long-suffering shamus finally
unveiled the murderer.
He reached for the light and stopped. He had forgotten something. Groaning,
he slid out of bed and back to the hall closet. Pulling out his briefcase, McKenzie
fished out a bottle of pills that the office courier had delivered that afternoon.
After reading the instructions and opening the seal, he meandered back to his
bedroom. Popping two pills into his mouth, Mac swallowed them dry. Then set
the bottle on the night table beside his bed and slipped back under the covers.
His last conscious thought was that it was nice to work for a drug company where
one of the fringe benefits was free vitamins and other medications, even if
they were experimental.
-=-=-=-=-
"Hey Mac, how about lunch today?" Rhea Calchas popped her head into
McKenzie's office and waited expectantly for the usual declination from her
friend. The other girls had often asked her what she saw in the shy loner and
she had to admit she didn't have a good answer. Something about him, a frailty,
a longing for friendship, had touched her from their first meeting and she had
cultivated their friendship for over two years now, drawing him out until they
now were close friends.
"Sure, why not. This is the first time in weeks Mrs. Everes hasn't had
me working on some project or another through lunch. I swear I'm losing weight
from all the meals I've been missing."
"Hey, alright. I knew I would wear you down eventually," she smiled
coming all the way into the room. "Say, when did you get rid of the mustache?"
"Uh, about a week ago. Do you like it this way?"
"Actually, I thought the mustache was just an affectation, you know, to
make you seem more manly. I didn't think you needed it and I think you look
fine without it."
"Fine?"
"Handsome. Debonair. Like a young gentleman," she kept fishing for
the right words as she watched for a positive response from her friend. "You
know, boyishly charming. Cute."
"Oh. Okay. That sounds kind of nice-I guess."
"Oh, I'm sorry Mac. I didn't mean it as an insult you. Please forgive
me."
"Nonsense Rhea. Cute." He rolled it around on his tongue. "Cute.
I kinda of like it. So who else will be there?"
"Well, let's see. There will be Madeline from Accounting and Amy from
Mrs. Everes' office. Of course, Brad will be there, but Amy's got a crush on
him so don't you go playing your usual one-upmanship games with him.
"I promise Rhea," McKenzie smiled and made a cross over his heart
as he walked her toward the office door. "I'll keep my claws in, at least
for lunch."
-=-=-=-=-
Lunch was quiet. Every one complimented everyone else on how good they looked
and McKenzie let Brad do most of the talking. Luckily, they left early, as Amy
had to get back to work early. Mrs. Everes was immersed in some hush-hush project
and Amy had needed to get a papal dispensation to even make it to this lunch.
She would not have bothered except that she had already arranged with the others
for Brad to come and there was no way she was leaving him unattended with the
other women after all her hard work.
After the two would-be lovebirds left, Mac gave a sigh of relief and turned
to Rhea. "So, did I behave myself?"
"You were a perfect angel," Rhea chuckled and the others concurred.
"You even let that comment about the relationship between the cube square
rule and penis size pass."
"Yeah," Madeline chimed in, "I wonder what he thought he was
fishing for with a comment like that in front of Amy?"
"You know very well what he was after. How many men have you ever met
who weren't interested in a little extra on the side?" It was Rhea who
answered, but Mac too smiled knowingly.
When McKenzie returned home that night, he brought a small Rhododendron that
he'd seen in one of the shops Rhea, Madeline and he had passed on the way back
to the office. For some reason, it had called to him and he had just "had
to have it." Of course, he'd also needed to get instructions on how to
care for the first plant he had ever owned. He put it on the windowsill in the
other bedroom.
-=-=-=-=-
"Hi Mac. Ready for lun..." Rhea's voice trailed off as she saw her
friend sitting primly behind his desk. His hair, which had been getting a bit
long, had been carefully combed down the center with the tips curled forward
to frame his face.
"Hello Rhea," he looked up from his desk. "What did you say?"
"I asked if you'd like to go out to lunch today." Rhea debated for
several seconds, but then decided to speak up. "Uh, Mac. Is that a new
style for your hair?"
"Why yes it is. Do you like it? I saw it and just fell in love with it,"
Mac beamed with joy.
"Actually, it reminds me a bit of Mrs. Everes' hair style."
"Oh." Mac looked crestfallen. "Well, I still like it. And before
I forget, thanks, but Mrs. Everes has me tied up again this lunch time."
"Oh. I'm sorry Mac. I really didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's a
wonderful hairstyle. It's just such a dramatic change from what I'm used to
that I guess I was surprised. Please forgive me. Please."
"Of course," he assured her solemnly. "You're my best girlfriend
and a little difference of opinion is not going to come between us. But I really
do have an assignment for Mrs. Everes this lunchtime. Maybe some other time-if
I don't wither away from lack of food first?"
"Sure Mac. Sure. I'll see you at the planning meeting this afternoon."
As soon as Rhea left, McKenzie grabbed a hand mirror from his desk and critically
examined himself. With a sigh, he also pulled out a brush and tucked his hair
back into a ponytail.
-=-=-=-=-
Rhea was late to the meeting and she could only share a brief nod with Mac,
who sat several seats to her left. This was an important meeting, as it would
decide that direction for the company's advertising budget for the next six
months.
McKenzie presented his piece on sales trends by demographic groups, concluding,
to no one's surprise, that the teen market was their biggest customer. Rhea
noticed that he seemed more animated than usual, gesticulating as he identified
specific points instead of his usual monotonous delivery. He even broke tradition
and used a pointer. Apparently she wasn't the only one to notice the difference
as Mrs. Everes complimented him, although she immediately followed it with a
suggestion that "Kenzie's" ponytail was inappropriate to a work environment
and that he get his hair cut or styled in a more appropriate manner.
Seeing him standing, Rhea also noticed that he was right about his comments
about losing weight. His shirt seemed to drape about his stomach with more folds
than it should. Rhea wondered if she should suggest he shop for some better
fitting shirts, but was a bit leery given her faux pas about his hair earlier.
More troubling was the feeling that she was missing something. That there was
something else about her friend that she should be noticing. It wasn't until
she stood and walked past him on the way to the front of the room for her presentation
that she realized what it was. His nails. Folded neatly in his lap now that
his presentation was done, they were longer, almost a half inch beyond the nail-and
they had a clear coat of polish over them. It was then that she decided that
she just had to talk to McKenzie, privately and soon.
-=-=-=-=-
Their dinner had been the best fun Rhea had had in months, maybe years. The
food had been excellent and the conversation had been witty and stimulating,
so much so that she'd been having too much fun to broach her concerns to McKenzie.
It had been like too best friends out for some innocent fun and having a blast.
The best she'd been able to do was suggest he come over to her house for an
after dinner drink on the way home, but he'd surprised her and insisted she
come to his condo instead. It was only after they'd headed off in separate cars
that she realized why it had been such fun; the sexual tension that was always
there between men and women was missing. There had been no innuendos, no subtle
hints, no furtive gestures, nothing.
"Are you sure you don't mind me inviting myself into your home Mac?"
she asked feeling a bit guilty about not being totally honest with her friend.
"Nonsense Rhea," he pooh-poohed as he opened the door. "I invited
you, remember. In fact, I've been thinking that we need to get together more
often, do more things together. You know, be friends."
"Mac, your condo is beautiful," Rhea stood in awe at the sight before
her. The living room walls were off-white with a set of Queen Anne brocaded
chairs flanking a matching love seat. Plants were everywhere-cut flowers, potted
plants, even bonsai-created the feeling of a secret garden hidden in the bowels
of the building. Framed paintings peeked through the foliage, carefully lighted
to be highlighted and to encourage the shrubbery to grow around them and frame
them even more. Rhea recognized a Matisse or two and assumed they were copies,
but given Mac's behavior lately, was unsure.
"Have a seat. I'll make us some tea. Then we can kick off our shoes and
talk." Before Rhea could answer, he was gone, leaving her to the carefully
manicured garden. Remembering the serious subject she needed to discuss, Rhea
chose a chair rather than the love seat where her intentions might be misunderstood,
but she had been in heels for much of the day and the idea of taking off her
shoes was so appealing she couldn't resist. A more detailed examination of the
condo could come later. Shoes off, she curled up with her legs under her on
the surprisingly comfortable chair.
Mac returned shortly and Rhea sucked in her breath in shock. There was another
person standing before her carrying a tray with a porcelain oriental tea set
and suddenly Rhea realized why their night out had been absent sexual innuendo.
Standing before her was Mac, but it wasn't Mac. His hair had been re-combed
to again part down the center and the ends again gently flipped forward frame
his face. His toenails had gone the way of his fingernails and now they too
sported a matching clear coat polish. He was wearing a kimono-style bathrobe
with a floral design that matched the tea set, but most shocking was the gently
curved shape beneath the robe.
"Tea's ready. Shall I pour?"
Rhea gulped, still staring, and nodded rather than risk speaking.
Mac gracefully set everything on the coffee table. His movements were like
choreography as he poured, in what Rhea was willing to bet was a fairly good
emulation of the Japanese high tea ritual. Finally, he set a delicate china
cup before her, another by his side and curled up on the love seat.
When she still had not moved or spoken, he gently prompted her. "Have
some tea, Hon. Is something wrong?"
Finally, the dam broke and through a deluge of tears Rhea choked out, "Oh
Mac. We have to talk."
McKenzie immediately jumped to her side hugging her only to be shocked when
he was pushed away, an obvious look of distaste on Rhea's face. Seconds later
Mac had run crying towards the bedrooms.
It took several minutes for Rhea to compose herself and several more as she
debated between slinking ignominiously away and searching out McKenzie to explain.
Loyalty and friendship won.
Rhea forced a smile as she faced three doors and remembered the fable about
the "Lady and the Tiger." She wondered which, if either, she would
find when she located her friend. The first door lead to a bathroom, Spartan
and clearly masculine. The second door led to a small bedroom-again, clearly
utilitarian and masculine, and again no Mac.
The final door led to a second, larger bedroom. This one too was filled with
a profusion of flowing plants of assorted varieties. It also contained a matched
bedroom set including a canopied bed, armoire and makeup table. Her friend was
sprawled on the bed, still sobbing.
Tentatively, afraid to disturb him even more, Rhea padded silently to the bed
and settled herself gently on the edge. A comforting hand reached out and touched
Mac's shoulder and she was relieved a bit when he didn't flinch.
"Mac, please listen to me. We're friends-and we need to talk. Something's
been happening to you. I don't know what it is. I see little things, things
that have changed, things that don't make sense. It's like you're changing-or
something's changing you. It's...oh I don't know what it is." Rhea was
now crying again too.
It was Mac who recovered first and he sat up and hugged Rhea for all he was
worth. An eternity later, they were both recovered enough to separate and Rhea
started to speak, only to be gently shushed.
"I know Rhea. You're a good friend, my best friend, and you've been trying
to tell me something all night."
Rhea nodded silently, unsure what to say.
McKenzie sighed and let his shoulders slump. "Is it that I seem to be
changing? Is that it?" His hand trembled as it rested on her arm while
he waited for her response.
"You-you know? These changes. They're intention-al?" Rhea was in
shock.
"Please. Let me explain, I beg of you. It's not what you think."
"You're becoming effeminate and it's intentional?"
"Effeminate? What are you talking about?" Mac was immediately indignant.
"I meant the way I was opening up, letting myself feel and react to the
world more."
Rhea choked out the words "Oh my god!" and tried to run from the
room in embarrassment, only to be stopped at the door by Mac's gentle hands
on her shoulders.
"Friends?" He asked. "Friends can say anything to each other-even
if it hurts sometimes. Now tell me what you mean. Why did you call me effeminate?"
"Mac," Rhea's face was now bright red. "We're friends and I
don't what to lose that, but I've already hurt you unintentionally, and I don't
want to do it again, so please just let me go and we can pretend this never
happened.
McKenzie gently turned her to face him and stared into her eyes for several
seconds. His hand lifted from her shoulder to gently caress her cheek. "Friends,"
he whispered before taking her by the hand and leading her back to the now cold
tea.
-=-=-=-=-
They sat uncomfortably in the Queen Anne chairs holding hot tea and saying
nothing. Finally, Mac cleared his throat. "Maybe I should start?"
When Rhea said nothing, he continued.
"You know I've always been shy. You're just about my only friend and that's
because, for some unknown reason, you've taken pity on me."
"That's not..." Mac raised a hand to stop her.
"It's okay. I appreciate it, but it's the truth. I rarely talked; you
usually carried the conversation. I would eat at my desk every day if you didn't
drag me off to lunch. When I had to talk in a public meeting, I'd be stiff and
stammer, saying the absolute minimum, as Mrs. Everes has rather acerbically
pointed out on numerous occasions.
"Anyway, I screwed up my nerve and finally volunteered for one of the
company's testing programs, the Metamez trials. The one's where they were testing
a new hypnotic to help psychiatrists overcome their patient's persistent thought
disorders like delusional thoughts, obsessive-compulsive behaviors. That sort
of thing.
"They accepted me because they felt my shyness was sufficiently severe
to be a major detriment in my life. They said the instructions would be to change
myself so that I could accept myself, like myself, and feel comfortable around
others-and it did. I actually talked at lunch last week and I got through a
staff meeting without being criticized for the first time ever."
"Mac," Rhea spoke in a near whisper. "Would you please open
the top of your robe a bit?"
"I guess." The robe opened a bit, enough to show the absence of any
chest hair.
"A bit more." This time the view was of two small but quite feminine
breasts. Mac glanced down and then back up at Rhea.
"So?"
"What do you see?"
"My chest?"
"And what else?"
"My nipples?"
"And..."
"This is getting boring-my breasts."
"Final question. Who has breasts, a man or a woman?"
"Why a woman, of cour...oh!" Mac carefully examined his chest; touching
the breast and watching it shift under pressure from his finger and then slide
back when he removed his hand.
"But...why doesn't it bother me? I should be 'freaking out,' shouldn't
I?"
"I think that's an answer you need to ask the people at work."
McKenzie just nodded. There was no doubt that she was right.
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude One
The glow from the computer monitor cast a pale light on the man's face as he
typed. His skin, sallow and pasty white under normal conditions, appeared gray
in the reflected light and his forehead glistened with beads of sweat as he
considered each word of his story in progress. Clearly it was a long way from
being finished, but it was a good start. Likeable characters, strange happenings
and, of course, a male being transitioned into a female. It should be perfect
for the folks on that mailing list.
Somewhere, sounding miles away, the doorbell rang.
While McKenzie Rigby typed another sentence the doorbell rang twice more, finally
breaking his train of thought. Growling to himself, he pushed away from the
computer desk and stood up.
At twenty-nine, McKenzie already appeared middle aged. Balding, with a belly
that hung well over his belt, he moved slowly toward the door with the same
shuffling gait that caused clerks offer him senior citizen discounts wherever
he shopped.
He opened the door and found a small boy of ten standing in the hallway holding
on to a smaller gray and white dog, a mixed breed with the ears and fur of a
wire hair terrier and the expressive eyes of a basset hound. "Oh, thank
heavens you're safe, Timmy. Good girl, lassie, you brought him home."
"Very funny, Uncle Mac. It's me, David," the boy said rolling his
eyes at the bad imitation of an old time television show he did every time David
came by. Holding out the dog he said, "Here's Igor."
"That's pronounced Eye-gor"
The boy sighed, "They told me it was Eegor."
"Well, they were wrong, then, weren't they?" the older man replied
contentiously, before asking, "Want a soda, David?"
"Okay, it's a long walk home, Uncle Mac. You know you could walk your
dog yourself. It wouldn't kill you."
"Okay, okay," McKenzie surrendered and slipped a five-dollar bill
in the boy's hand. "That's it for this week, got it? I'll walk him myself
tomorrow."
David followed the man inside the cluttered apartment, wrinkling his nose.
The room smelled almost as bad as the man did. "There's a storm coming…."
"What?" McKenzie asked as he took a container of Coke out of the
fridge. "Oh, you want a ride home, right? I'm right in the middle of a
very special project right now, you know."
"Writing more of those stories of yours? The ones I'm not old enough to
read?" David asked, pointedly.
"Yes, and someday I promise I will show them to you." Muttering to
himself, he added, "After your mother is long dead and buried, if she has
anything to say about it.
Turning back to little David, he continued, "Here, let me get the keys
and I'll drive you home."
"Thanks, Uncle Mac. I knew I could count on you, despite what mom thinks."
-=-=-=-=-
The drive took less than ten minutes. McKenzie hoped to drop the boy a block
away from the house and take off before his sister could corner him, but no
such luck. The rain started drumming down on the roof of the car before they
reached David's street. Lightning crashed overhead and, the way a passing tree
shook from the thunder, McKenzie wondered if the car would be hit.
He pulled into the driveway, only to see his sister standing by the side door
pointing at him and motioning him into the house.
"You set me up for this, didn't you?"
"Sorry," David said and meant it. "But she is my Mom, you know."
The man and the boy ran for the shelter of the house. Both made it to the kitchen
dripping from the rain.
"Sit!" Janice Rigby-Corwin told her brother and pointed to a kitchen
chair.
"But, sis, I'm in the middle of something important. I need to get…."
"You need to get your butt down in that chair-or do I have to call Mom?"
"Better do as she says, pardner," David drawled and tossed his uncle
a bath towel. "She means business. Some warm milk, perhaps?"
"No, thanks," McKenzie said drying off his head.
"Want to take a shower?" Janice asked her brother pointedly, wrinkling
her nose distastefully as she tried to sit down next to the man.
"I will and I always take a shower before I go to work so you don't have
to look at me as if I haven't bathed in a week." McKenzie said, hurt.
"Then you have a serious problem, little brother. You look like death
itself. You smell like it, too. I blame that stupid computer of yours for that,
too. Do you ever get out these days? Even to buy groceries?"
"I'm a writer, sis. There are a lot of fans of my work out there and I
can't let them down."
"Oh, yes, the writing. How many people are on that mailing list of yours?
Three? Four? There is more to life than your online buddies and those stories
of yours. When was the last time you sent something to a real publisher?"
McKenzie stammered out, "Okay, so nothing this year, but there are a lot
more people on the TG-TF list than you think. It's what I do, sis. I have a
job, it's not much of job but it pays the bills-and I write."
"Do you even have a girl friend anymore?" she asked, quietly.
"Not since that-since Barbie broke up with me," he said trying very
hard not to look at anyone.
"I liked her," David pointed out. "And she made you keep your
place nice, too."
"So? I'm not into housework," McKenzie protested.
"It's about time you were," Janice said. "Look, we have about
thirty minutes to get downtown. David, go move the stuff off the front seat
of the car for your uncle, then you get in the back seat."
"Okay, Mom."
"What's this about?" McKenzie demanded.
"You have an appointment for a complete physical with Dr. Robinson. Mom
is paying for it, and I made the appointment. Knowing your lack of love for
all things medical, I had David get you here by any means, fair or foul, so
don't blame him. Let's go, and no, you don't have a choice. I will not lose
another sibling."
-=-=-=-=-
McKenzie slammed the door of his apartment open, and then slammed it shut with
an even louder bang. "Of all the rotten tricks," he thought. "That
bitch he called a sister had really done it, this time." Igor whimpered
and stared inquisitively at the man as he stormed over to the computer and clicked
the icon to connect to his ISP.
"Nothing much," he complained to the dog as a couple of letters from
the list came in. Junk and spam. Spam and junk. "Why should I be surprised?"
The only stories that were being sent out, these days, were just the "Mommy
made me dress as a girl, and look at me now" type or someone was trying
to find a new way for the Catwoman to turn Robin-or Batman, or both-female.
"It's been months since I posted anything to list," McKenzie noted absently speaking to the computer monitor as much as to the dog. "It's time I did. They need to get some real stories again, not that garbage. And I don't care what that stupid doctor said. I'm in good health. I feel fine. Maybe I could get a bit more exercise, but I need to get things going again with the list. That novel… That might still have a chance. I know, I'll send the 'Ultimate TG Experience.' Perfect. Now they can find out what real writing is all about."
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER TWO
[St. Elmo's Fire]
The
Rigby Narratives:
The Ultimate TG Experience
by
Andy Hollis
and
Jaye Michael
It was a dark and stormy night. The lightening flashing through my basement
studio's high casement windows was bright enough and frequent enough to interfere
with my enjoyment of my favorite video. Of course, I knew the scenes and the
lines to Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde by heart, so I wasn't really watching
so much as using it for background noise as I typed away at my latest novel,
The Placebo Effect. Placebo was going to be my opus magnum, the
finest, most comprehensive, work of transgender fiction ever written. It was
going to be the story of a man who turns into a woman a la Kafka's "Metamorphosis,"
with subplots including a man who runs afoul of his bosses and has to hide.
In the same tradition as "The Purloined Letter," he decides-actually
his girlfriend convinces him-to hide in plain sight. Did I mention that one
of the characters was to be a scientist and that she was to have been raped
in high school? If I did this right, know one would know what was really happening
until the very end, where there would be a surprise worthy of O'Henry.
Anyway, the lightening was so bad that I finally gave up my writing, turning
off and unplugging the computer. Better to have it off now and live to type
another day. Actually, even Jekyll and Hyde was getting hard to hear above the
cacophony from without so I also turned off the television and, like mama taught,
unplugged it too. After all, I was not so rich that I could afford to replace
all my electronic equipment.
At that point, I would have gone over to Barbie's place, but her roommates
had made it clear that she did not want to see or talk to me any more, not since
she'd found I had used a pair of her panties to…well, you know. In keeping
with my bland life, I'll save the graphic details for my stories. The bottom
line was, no girlfriend. She hadn't even bothered to take them, or any of her
other clothes, with her when she'd stormed out, saying she didn't even want
to try to remove the stains from my pathetic sex acts from them. I admit Barbie
is tall for a girl at five-foot ten, but geez, you'd think I'd been wearing
them; like I could fit my six-foot eight-inch, three hundred twenty pound frame
into her size sixes even if I wanted to. Actually, she was another reason why
The Placebo Effect was languishing. I missed her and just couldn't seem
to concentrate on my plotting when all I could think of was her.
With no television, no computer, no job, no girlfriend and even the dog asleep,
I was at a loss as to what to do and 3 AM is way too early for bedtime when
you've been on the night shift for the last five years. I would have been there
now, playing night watchman while waiting for a better paying job in management
and finishing off the great American transgender novel, but the owners had torched
the warehouse in order to insure maximum return on their investment and, as
the cop who questioned me noted, "There ain't no reason for ya ta guard
ashes."
The good news was they didn't think I had set the blaze, although they still
wanted me to stay in town and available. "S.O.P." the cop had insisted.
So, what was I going to do? She had taken her collection of Barbie dolls, but
I could feel her clothes beckoning me. They were still in her closet and the
top three drawers of my dresser. I hadn't had the heart to box them and try
to send them back to her. I think, deep in my heart of hearts, that I still
hoped we could be together again, but then I glanced at her picture, hanging
above my computer, smiling joyously as she glanced over at me as I snapped her
picture. I had taken it just after she had aced her serve during this year's
semi-final game at the regional volleyball tournament. Her long blond hair framed
her angelic, heart-shaped face and sparkling blue eyes-and the bikini didn't
hurt either. Slowly that smiling visage was replaced by hers as I saw her last,
hurt and angry beyond words and I knew I could never win her back. She was too
angry.
I ambled over to the couch and stood on the back so I could get high enough
to look out my basement window at the night sky. Looking out the window into
the storm, the flashes from the lightening were even brighter and more blinding
than before, so I used one hand to shade my eyes while holding onto one of the
water pipes suspended near my ceiling for balance. The sky was so brightly lit
that, for a moment, it reminded me of that old SciFi movie, The Day of the
Triffids, and I chuckled to myself for my foolishness. Everyone knew that
all that stuff about aliens and ghosts and magic was just bunk, but it might
help with a story line someday, so I filed it in my memory for later consideration
and cranked open the window in order to get a better view. I was going to have
to break down and wash them one of these days.
That was when things got strange.
This huge, six-foot glowing ball of light appeared in front of my open window
as if examining me. It gave off a faint hum as it hovered above the sidewalk
before me. I had heard of St. Elmo's fire, but I had thought that that was usually
found out over the ocean or some other large body of water since most of the
reports were from sailors. This was Columbus, Ohio and the largest body of water
near me, besides some poor excuses for rivers that flowed through the city was
the Hoover Dam on the opposite side of town.
If that wasn't strange enough, a smaller ball of lightening, this one only
about a foot in diameter, separated from the original and leaped at me. I didn't
even have time to react before it was on me, encircling my body so that I too
was glowing.
I initially felt just a mild tingle, like lying on one of those magic-finger,
vibrating beds in a motel. I know I never actually felt pain, but the next thing
I remember, I was lying on the floor with Igor-that's my dog-licking my face.
I had singed hair and tingling skin to go with the bitter, acrid odor in the
air. Everything hurt, and I mean everything, so I cautiously dragged myself
into a standing position, using the couch to lever myself up, and staggered
off to bed.
When I woke again, after some of the most amazing dreams of my beloved Barbie,
the storm had passed and it looked like it was late afternoon from the position
of the shadows on the building across the street. My skin still tingled and
I felt dizzy, but the pain was mostly gone. Nature was calling again-you'd think
she'd have given up in the midst of a major metropolitan area like Columbus-so
I visited the bathroom and relieved myself, sitting for safety.
After getting shocked by the ball lightening I had basically crawled into bed
and slept off the major effects. I knew it was time for a shower and some major
cleaning up, as there was a thin layer of soot on the bed that must have been
the remains of my clothes and hair. I didn't even want to look in the mirror
until after cleaning myself thoroughly, but I must admit that I was cautiously
examining myself while I showered to see what might have happened to me. I knew
very little about getting struck by lightening, but I felt certain that it was
not good for the human body. Thoughts of burns (there were none), blindness
(I could still see) hearing loss (I could hear the sounds of the shower running
and Igor whining outside the bathroom door like he does whenever I close the
door) were just a few of the fears that ran through my mind and I probably would
have gone to my doctor or an Emergency Room (if I weren't deathly afraid of
them and I could afford it). I didn't and I couldn't, but the fears were still
there so I kept checking for anything different, anything at all.
I had lost all my body hair, but I was pleased to find that I still had hair
on my head. It felt fuller than before and I wondered if my body still held
a small charge of static electricity that might be fluffing it out like when
someone touches a Vandegraff generator. I also noted that the tingling had not
gone away. It didn't seem to be concentrated anywhere, but I imagined it felt
stronger than when I had first woken up. Maybe I was going to turn into a woman,
like the people in the stories I wrote. I laughed dismissively knowing the impossibility
of such an event.
When I finished my shower, the mirror was steamed up as usual. I checked for
some paper towels to clean it off, but I was out again. Leaving the warmth of
the bathroom to dig a new roll out from the kitchen cabinets really didn't appeal
to me, so I just opened the door to let some of the steam out. I figured that
if it was still steamy after I had dried off, I could use the towel to clean
it off. Off on the far wall, over the computer, I could see Barbie's picture
staring back at me through the crack in the door. My first thought was for the
fantastic dreams I'd just woken from, but then things changed. I could almost
imagine her beautiful smile transforming into a sneer as she waited for me to
melt into a puddle of primordial slime as partial penitence for my crimes against
her.
My skin was definitely more sensitive and I had to pat myself dry after my
shower instead of rubbing myself off as usual. Another thing, my hair definitely
felt longer as I toweled it dry. Some of my characters had used a form of electricity
called electrolysis to get rid of hair. Could electricity also stimulate hair
growth? Paper towels or no paper towels, it was time to clear the condensed
water from the mirror. I almost felt like it was an unveiling, like I was going
to see someone different in it. I marched back into the bathroom and balled
up my towel. Then, I cleaned the remaining steam off the mirror.
There was a body staring back at me. I was relieved as I realized I had half
thought the lightening had killed me and I was really a ghost. But the fact
that I was alive was the only good thing, since it wasn't me, the "me"
I'd grown up as, in the mirror.
It was Barbie.
The hair was dark brown instead of blonde, but that was probably because it
was still wet. There were no breasts and the hips did not swell like her luscious
curves, but the face was hers, the arms and hands were hers, even the long,
slender legs were hers.
Quicker than I could consciously track, my mind went looking for, and found,
additional similarities. Her mole, the cute little one beside her mouth. I had
one too. Her long, slim, graceful neck. I had that too. Her nipples, full, large
and reddish brown. I had them too.
As I continued cataloging the changes, I absently wondered how I could have
missed things like the changes in my nipples in the shower. A moment later,
the answer came as the tissue under my nipples began to slowly expand outward
from my body, reminding me of two small, round balloons being inflated. In shock,
I watched them grow, certain that when they stopped, they would be the same
D cup beauties I had, until recently, fondled. I remember thinking, in a detached
and demented way, that now I wouldn't have to make up with Barbie. I'd be able
to play with her boobies whenever I wanted.
When the twins were done filling out, I looked further south, waiting to see
if the process continued as expected. I had been so engrossed with them that
I had not realized that my waist had narrowed and my hips had widened. It was
almost anticlimactic when my genitals slowly migrated back into my body leaving
me with a completely female body.
The voice in my head was the final straw as it said, "We claim this structure
for the Electrolytic race. Let the invasion commence."
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude Two
McKenzie removed his glasses and wiped his tired eyes. The sun was up and it
was time to stop writing and go to sleep. Unlike the unemployed character in
his most recent story, tomorrow would be another boring day of work. His job
as a night shift security officer at a customs warehouse would give him plenty
of time to decide where to take the story in the next chapter, if when he got
around to it. With a lifestyle that left little time for friends or fun, the
praise of his anonymous friends on the Internet was the high point of each day.
He didn't remember how he had found them, probably stumbled across a website
and from there been directed to the mailing list. It wasn't even that he cared
about transgendered issues. He'd just read a few and thought he could do better.
He did. He got a bunch of messages asking him to write more and he was hooked.
His computer beeped, telling him that the piece he had just written had been
sent to the list and that it was shutting down. Standing and rubbing his bulging
belly, Mac headed for bed. He stopped first to ruffle Igor's head. The dog yawned,
wagged his tail for a moment and the, wisely, went back to sleep. Next McKenzie
stopped for a check of the refrigerator, looking for a quick before bed snack
for Igor and himself. The deep fried, breaded sauerkraut balls tasted great,
but neither of them slept well.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER THREE
[Dominatrix Barbie]
More [The Rigby Narratives]
The
Rigby Narratives
The Ultimate TG Experience
by
McKenzie Rigby
by
Andy Hollis
and
Jaye Michael
Chapter Three -- Dominatrix Barbie
Cold water splashed over the bed. I woke screaming as I realized that someone
was standing over the bed with what looked to be a nasty weapon.
"Oh, it's you, Phoebe, what do you want?" I sputtered, still half
asleep despite the water dripping off my face and down my upper torso.
The girl, one of Barbie's long time friends, shook her head sending her dark
red hair rippling over bare shoulders. "Not acceptable, Kenny boy. You
will address me as Mistress Phoebe from here on.
"I beg your pardon?" I asked trying to cover myself with the dry
half of the sheet.
"You will learn to beg and beg hard, slave boy. Sit up!" she ordered
cracking a whip over my knees. "Mistress Barbie is considering-only considering
mind you-taking you back, even after what you did, but it will not be easy for
you. No, not at all."
"Get out of here," I snarled, finally awake enough to realize what
was happening. Barbie's girl friends were going to punish me for hurting her.
It might have been sweet if I were into that sort of thing. Unfortunately, I
was not. "I've had a rough night, and I don't need any of this shit. I
made one little slip but that doesn't mean I'm about to tolerate this S&M
garbage. I'm not into humiliation."
"I don't remember asking your opinion about this," Phoebe sneered.
This time the whip cracked against my chest-and it really hurt. Ow!
I grabbed the end of the whip and yanked, pulling the thing out of the girl's
hand, and threw it against the far wall. Then, I stood up with the sheet around
my waist, looming ominously over the leather-clad woman. "Get out now,
before I call the cops."
Something clicked behind me that sounded a lot like the hammer of a revolver
being pulled back. I turned my head around and then spun the rest of my body
around to face Barbie herself. The woman was dressed from neck to toe in a shimmering
black latex outfit, complete with knee length boots of brushed leather. With
one hand she held a large-bore gun pointed at my chest. There was a riding crop
in her other hand.
"Hello, Kenzie," she said sweetly, but with ice clearly lurking just
beneath those dulcet tones. "I thought you might give Mistress Phoebe a
hard time. You were a naughty boy just now, throwing Mistress Phoebe's whip
and you will pay dearly for it."
"Oh pu-leeze, Barbie, this just isn't you. I ."
"May I, Mistress Barbie?" Phoebe asked interrupting me.
"Yes, of course, Phoebe. I think our Kenzie had better start learning
some manners right now. Drop the sheet, McKenzie."
"And if I don't?" I asked shaking my head. This could not be happening.
I had written TG stories before, but never anything to do with the rough stuff.
It just wasn't my scene.
Barbie aimed the pistol. She aimed low and fired at something behind me. I
heard a short, agonized yelp and turned to see Igor lying on his side, bleeding
from the shoulder the bullet had just grazed. A second bullet struck me in the
leg and I felt hard with searing flashes of lightning running through my closed
eyelids as I fell to the floor.
"Now, Phoebe!"
The leather-clad girl yanked the sheet away from me, and a second later I opened
my eyes to see her standing over me holding a large syringe. Before I could
say anything, she bent down, and rammed the needle into my ass. I felt my entire
backside burning as she forced the fluid into what little muscle I had in my
buttock.
"That, Kenzie, is an extremely fast acting mix of estrogen, progesterone
and estradiol with a sedative and a few special concoctions of my own making
added in. Phoebe will be giving you one of those shots twice a day. You like
wearing women's clothing? You like abusing yourself with women's clothes? Feel
what it's like to be a woman."
Phoebe held up a frilly, French Maid's uniform that looked to be a perfect
fit for her, a petite size four. "When I am finished with you, Kenzie,
you will fit into this, and you will look good in it as you serve like the pretty
little slave you will be."
"That's crazy," I stammered out trying to hide a yawn. I tried to
ask about Igor, but there was a sharp crack as Barbie's riding crop lashed across
my cheek. "You will address me as Mistress Barbie, and only if you are
requested to do so. The rest of the time you will remember your place as my
lady's maid. You will fit into this outfit-one way or the other."
Then she laughed, a cold, heartless, terrifying laugh. The choice was easy;
I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to think about what the other way would be.
I knew that, no matter how many hormones she shot into me, my body would adjust
only so much, and hormones would not make me shrink.
Crack, the crop found my other cheek. "There will be no zoning out, either.
I expect your undivided attention, Kenzie, and I will get it."
"Okay, okay," I said, only to get another crack of the riding crop
on my leg.
"You will address me as "Mistress Barbie", and only if I give
you permission to speak. You are my slave. Remember that
. Well?"
"Yes, Mistress Barbie," I stammered out.
"Mistress Phoebe, please ask Mistress Helen to bring in the things we
selected."
"Of course, Mistress Barbie," was the gleeful reply. "I can't
wait."
It was all I could do to stifle a yawn. They said there had been a sedative
in that shot and I believed them. I fought to keep my eyes open as Barbie's
second roommate brought in a large trunk.
"Thank you, Mistress Helen," Barbie said. "Remove the pellet
from Kenzie's leg if you would be so kind. No lidocaine. I think he will need
several stitches, but he has not behaved well enough to earn the use of an anesthetic."
The girl studied me for a moment with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Has
he received the shot yet, Mistress Barbie?"
"Yes. Go ahead."
In spite of the sedative, I felt every second of the procedure. The stitches
forced a scream from me, twice, and both times Barbie and Phoebe used their
respective tools. I passed out when Barbie attacked my genitals.
"Wake up," Barbie said pulling me upright by my hair. She shook my
head for a bit. "Now comes the fun part. See what I brought you?"
Phoebe held up a large white bra, with padded cups. "You will be needing
this in a few days, slave, so you had better start getting used to it now."
A few days? This was crazier than I had thought. I know how hormones work on
the male body. I, unlike so many TG writers, had done the research and read
the case studies on the subject. It didn't matter how large of a dose I got,
my body would use what it needed and eliminate the rest. The process would take
months, but if I told these hellions that, I'd get punished again.
I must have dozed off from the sedative. When I woke, I found myself in a strange
room on someone else's bed. Soft cords attached my wrists and ankles to the
bedposts. I managed to sit up enough to see the silky pink nightgown I wore,
but even that effort was enough to make me dizzy. I closed my eyes and drifted
off before I had a chance to try to find Igor.
I'm not sure how long I stayed that way, waking and sleeping. I remember the
burning pain in my butt every time Phoebe or Barbie gave me my shot. I don't
remember eating during this period, but I don't remember wanting to, either.
"Okay, Sleeping Beauty, time to get up."
Through the haze left over from the drugs, I looked up at Barbie and blinked.
"Mistress Barbie?"
"Good, you're learning. Get up now, and walk over the mirror there."
The movement made my whole body protest. I sat up and stretched, only to notice
how the nightgown hung on me. I felt my hair, now, touching my back several
inches below my shoulders. "Mistress Barbie? How long have I been in this
bed?"
"Three days. As you will see, the serum has worked a major miracle with
you, Kenzie."
Trembling, I faced the mirror to see a slim, young woman with curves in all
the right places staring back at me. God, I was a knockout. "That's impossible."
"Until now." Barbie pulled the nightgown over my head.
I stared at my reflection for what seemed like hours. For all intents, I was
a girl. My manhood had all but shriveled away; my body had been shaved or depilated
so that I saw no body hair at all except for my head and eyebrows. My eyebrows
and had been plucked and shaped to form twin arches over my eyes. My ears had
been pierced several times. At that point I noticed how much I had shrunk. Barbie
stood several inches taller than I did now.
Again, this was impossible, but I held my tongue.
"I don't think that I ever mentioned that Mistresses Phoebe and Helen
are genetic researchers? Oh well, no big deal. Just wait until you meet Mistress
Eleanor today?"
"You have four roommates, Mistress Barbie?"
"Not at all. Mistress Eleanor is the surgeon who will be doing your sexual
reassignment. We've decided that you are much too pretty for that maid's outfit,
Kenzie. After the surgery you will need a lot of training in how to please a
man, so we do have about a dozen young men ready to give you all the lessons
you will need. Doesn't that sound like fun? Just think, girl, the next time
you wet your panties it will be for the same reason that we all do.
Interlude Three
McKenzie gave the chapter a quick proof reading before he sent
it off to the list. He yawned, stretched and shut down his computer for another
night. The adoring emails could wait until tomorrow. Besides, he needed to get
to bed early so that he could be up and gone before his sister Janice came by
to drag him off the that damn doctor.
Too bad, he thought for a second. Too bad he didn't have a girlfriend
like Barbie. Unlike the story, where she wouldn't take him back, even if he
became the little beauty he'd become in his story-a fascinating image that-McKenzie
was confident that he'd have no trouble convincing her to return; of course,
first he needed a girlfriend. McKenzie sighed. No girlfriend and no chance of
finding one while working the nightshift on a dead end job.
Igor yawned a stretched. When Mac got into bed, Igor jumped up
and joined him. It wasn't the same.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER FOUR
[The Hundred Percent Solution]
More [The Rigby Narratives]
The Ultimate TG Experience
by McKenzie Rigby
as told to
Andy Hollis
and
Jaye Michael
Chapter Four -- The Hundred Percent Solution
"I say old chap, what seems to be the matter?"
"Eh, what's that Watson?" Sherlock Holmes, the Great
Detective, put down his violin and glanced inquisitively at his portly friend,
just returned from setting the kettle to boil for tea.
Watson would have asked Mrs. Hudson to prepare the tea, but
she had recently traveled to Binghamton after selling Holmes the building.
She had been getting on in years and had finally decided to live a more retiring
life with her oldest daughter Olivia. Watson had just buried his third wife
and ended his medical practice for what he swore before King and Country would
be the last time. Similarly, the Great Detective had not gone to field on
a case in more than two years, instead limiting his investigatory activities
to occasional consultations with Lestrade's replacement, one of that new breed
of detective convinced that there was little to be learned from the likes
of Holmes. They had all been getting a bit long in the tooth of late.
"You've fought a starved, half crazed wolfhound, you've
battled Moriarty beside the precipice at Rikenbach Falls and you've faced
down some of the most atrocious evil-doers of the century. Never once have
I seen you afraid,"
Dr. Watson gulped a breath of air and quickly continued, fearful
that if he did not, he might never have the courage to ask the question again.
"As your friend and as the chronicler of your investigations, I wonder,
of what are you afraid, Holmes?
"Watson, old friend, you know I routinely chide you about
how dashing and adventuresome you made me appear. Surely you know that nowadays
I would much prefer to remain here in our flat and concentrate on my investigations
of scientific criminology."
"You can't fool me, Holmes. I've seen you with that bloody
seven percent solution as soon as you begin to become bored. We both know
that when 'the game's afoot' you are a different man, much like that Stevens
chap's 'Jekyll and Hyde'."
"That's 'The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde' by
Messer. Robert Louis Stevenson; quite a good tale of its kind, if a bit out
of date. I believe it was written more than thirty years ago," Holmes
noted as he settled back into his overstuffed, Chippendale armchair. "And
I do recognize your concerns regarding my use of cocaine for restorative purposes
between investigations."
"Then why do you continue using it? You know it is addictive.
You've seen the dens of iniquity where the chinamen, and those other poor
unfortunates they've sucked into their evil practices, lie indolently smoking
the seed of the poppy and you know that vile solution you inject into your
arm is an extract of that same horrid plant."
"Will it please you to hear that I've sworn off, that I
shall no longer inject myself with that 'vile concoction' as you've so often
called it?"
"Well yes. Yes it would."
"Then buck up old chap. You're sage counsel has convinced
me. Never again shall I infuse this body or this brain with cocaine."
"Bravo old chap," Watson effused happily over the
sound of a whistling teakettle. "Good to hear it. About time. So let
me take the kettle off the heat and then you can tell me what you will do
to keep away the ennui between investigations?"
"Sit Watson. You've done it often enough. Just this once
allow me to bring the tea to you." As Holmes stood and strode purposefully,
if with a bit more assistance from his cane than he would have liked, out
of the sitting room, he continued, "I've been experimenting and I think
I've come up with a capital way to pass the time. It's the result of a series
of fortuitous events including my time with 'That Woman'
"
"You mean Ms. Adler?"
"Quite. As I was saying, it is the result of my interactions
with 'That Woman,' my considerations of the implications of Messer. Stevenson's
hypotheses as outlined by his character Dr. Jekyll and examination of the
properties of the various rare elements and vegetation your friends from India
continue to send you."
"I say Holmes, I'm at a complete loss as to where you're
going with this."
"That's all right my dear friend. Allow me to finish here
with the tea and I'll be right in."
Holmes completed the task with his usual efficiency of movement
and was back momentarily. Once seated again, he took a sip of tea and savored
the flavor. "Not as good as yours I'm afraid, but I do hope you will
enjoy."
Using both hands so the tremors of age would not induce spillage,
Watson too took a sip. "Nonsense Holmes, this is excellent tea although
it's not the usual is it?"
"Very observant Watson. No, it's not. It's a special blend
I've only discovered of late. What do you think of it?"
"Well," Watson took another prodigious sip and considered
his words before answering. "I taste traces of some of the indigenous
spices of the East, India to be specific
"
"Quite correct old man, although I believe there are also
traces of items that can only be found in the Orient. What else?"
"It has a slight bitter taste although I cannot determine
exactly what since it is all but hidden by the sugar. Not bad mind you, but
still present."
Holmes merely nodded and smiled, encouraging his friend to continue,
and the good doctor made an elaborate pretense of sniffing the steamy air
above his cup.
"I
I can't quite seem to recall
the aroma is
familiar, but my nose has gotten on in years along with the rest of me.
It's
it's
it's laudanum. You put some of that bloody
poison in my tea!" he shouted angrily and started to rise, however, the
laudanum had done its job and he quickly slid back into his chair, too lethargic
to make a second attempt.
"Why Holmes? Why?"
Morpheus was rapidly overtaking the good doctor so the Great
Detective was quick to provide the explanation although he felt certain he
would need to do so again. "Yes Watson, there is laudanum in the tea,
but only enough to mask the other compounds and to reduce the pain to come.
If it will help you to know, I too have taken the same formula and it is much
more than mere laudanum-laced tea. If my research is correct-and I am quite
certain it is-it shall wash away the pain of old age, a condition from which
we both suffer.
"Eh, a fountain of youth? Balderdash. Holmes, you know
there's no such thing."
"Quite correct old friend. There is no such thing as a
fountain of youth, but the concoction you've just imbibed-that we've just
imbibed-will act in the same manner as that fabled spring. By morning we shall
both appear to be in our twenties instead of our seventies."
"But
but why didn't you just tell me old chap? I feel
confident that I would have willingly imbibed such an elixir had you shared
this explanation and your research with me."
"Because there is a unique
flaw
to my discovery,
much as that fellow Stevenson suggested in his book
"
"You mean I-we-shall become ravening beasts?"
"No; definitely not a ravening beast, old friend. The flaw
is much more subtle than that. It shall produce a change of perspective, but
not from man to beast, not from higher to baser emotions, but from male to
female."
Watson fainted.
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude Four
McKenzie stopped to rub an aching neck and shake his arm to
stop it from tingling. This one had been more difficult than most to write.
The medical research, the character development, the linguistic characteristics
had taken time and it was late. Janice's demands that he check out the causes
and treatments for his obesity and his angina had been the stimulus for the
story. Janice would probably be even angrier than usual if she knew she'd
spurred him to write even more of that 'TG junk' she so despised. Served her
right for making him go to a doctor and hear himself get told he needed to
take better care of himself. It was one thing to have chest pain and tingling
in his arms. It was quite another to have someone label it, even tentatively,
and tell him how to run his life.
A quick glance at the clock and McKenzie realized he'd have
to fly and get ready for work or he'd be late. Good segue. Enough thinking
about things that he couldn't change.
"Bad Igor. Why didn't you remind me to stop for work?"
He chided as he playfully rubbed the dog's head. Igor just licked his hand
and wagged his tail hopefully. Mac could almost swear the little fur ball
was talking to him with its sad eyes, saying, "Maybe next time McKenzie,
you'll remember to include a dog in the story?" Truth be told, McKenzie
was more worried about what to tell Janice to explain why he had failed to
make the doctor's appointment to which she had all but tried to drag him.
He was about to shut down the computer when the words of that
message asking him to finish some of his stories popped into his thoughts.
Staying his hand, instead he opened another file and labeled it chapter two.
McKenzie stared at the blank screen for a few seconds and then wrote some
phrases to remind him of what the next chapter should cover.
Smiling, he quickly left for work, rushing to make certain he
was not late and docked pay. In his hurry, he left the computer on. On the
still glowing computer screen were the following notes:
go find Lestrade
give him the elixir too
all three move to America
get connected to a reclusive American millionaire named Charlie
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER FIVE
[Faster Than a Speeding Tall Building]
More [The Rigby Narratives]
Chapter Five - Faster Than a Speeding Tall Building
The Ultimate TG Experience
by McKenzie Rigby
as told to
Andy Hollis
and
Jaye Michael
Chapter Five -- Faster Than a Speeding Tall
Building
The wind tickled my eyebrows as I flew my daily patrol over Tinytown, USA.
For me, the world's most powerful kid, the patrol took less than a minute,
on a good day. I mean, how many things can go wrong in a mostly rural village
that spread out over twenty square miles, tops?
I flew back to Tinytown Middle School, with my red and blue
cape fluttering behind me. Landing just outside the schoolyard, I wondered
again, why the Earthling children never realized that I, SuperKid, a visitor
from another world, went to the same school as they did, or that I was actually
their contemporary, Clark McKentzie, in my every day guise.
As always, the kids crowded around me. I was pleased to note
that Lana Ledo and Barbie Bennigan were among them. These two girls were always
fighting for my attention.
"Hey, SuperKid," said Harry Hooter, one of Clark's
best friends. "Can you get me Bat Person's autograph.
"No, get Spider Guy," called out Freddie Fudrucker, another chum.
I gave them both my classic, pensive pout and asked in my whiniest
voice, "And why not mine?"
"That's okay, Superkid," they both said. "Maybe
some other time."
"You can autograph my blouse," Barbie simpered holding
open her sweater. "Right here, by my heart."
"And just what is wrong with my autograph?" I asked
Harry in a more serious tone.
"Nothing, Clark-sorry, Superkid-but you've already signed
everything I own twice and three times so far. I mean
I know someday, when you grow up to be SuperPerson, defender
of Truth, Justice and the Politically Correct
Way, all those autographs will be worth a major fortune, but
give me a break now, okay?"
"Okay, chum," I said and flipped my head to get my
bangs off my face.
I noticed the grins that spread across the faces of all the
boys present. "What?"
"It's nothing," Lana said. "Ignore them, Superkid."
"But he's turning into SuperChick again," said a boy
in the eighth grade. "You promised to go to the last dance with me, SuperChick
and I mean to hold you to it, this time."
Reaching up to my head, I found that I indeed had a head of
now glorious blue black curls that just touched my shoulders and my bangs
were now just above eye level. I looked down to find that the rest of me had
not changed.
"Not again, this is the fifth time this month," I
groaned. "Who could be doing this to me now?"
"What about young Alex Applebee?" Barbie asked. Last
month Alex had tried to change me into a mermaid.
"No, young Alex is still in St. Cuthbert's Home for the
Criminally Insane and Children's Sweatshop, but not for long, knowing him."
"Then could it be another fanfic author pandering to the
prurient interests of his Internet readers?" Lana asked.
"No," I said with a long sigh. "I'm underage,
and PC Comix would never permit it. Besides, all of us here are too young
to understand any of that stuff."
Everyone laughed in agreement with me-I hoped.
"Then you'd better see Dr. McDonald, the official PC Comix
Pseudoscientist, SuperChick," Freddy said. "He can tell you what
you need to do."
"You're right, thanks." I said raising my arm in farewell
to my friends before jumping into the afternoon sky.
I flew the distance to Majormetropolis, where someday I hoped to work as a
reporter for a good-sized metropolitan newspaper, if only I could get my grades
in English up. A few seconds later, I landed outside the office of Dr. R.
McDonald, pseudoscientist, whose motto read: "We make the logically impossible
not only plausible but almost believable." Just my kind of scientist.
On the door, however, I found a note that read: Thanks for stopping
by, but I'm on an extended vacation in Cancun. Please see my colleague, Dr.
Wendell Whitecastle for any of your pseudoscientific needs. This means you,
too, Superkid. I'm on vacation and you won't find me no matter how hard you
look.
I can take a hint, I thought as I flew over to the next building.
There I found the office of Dr. Whitecastle easily enough, and walked inside.
"I'm SuperKid," I told the girl behind the front desk, who looked
smashing in her dark red business suit, with mauve blouse and accessories.
"I need to see Dr. Whitecastle right away."
"Go on in, Kid of Iron-or is it Girl of Germanium-he's
been expecting you since Doctor Ron went on vacation."
Dr. Whitecastle was an older man, dressed in a lab coat, with rather grubby
looking jeans and a badly stained gray t-shirt underneath. He peered at me
through his thick glasses. "SuperKid?"
"Yes, Dr. Whitecastle, I need your help. I'm turning in
a girl, again."
"But that is logically impossible, SuperKid. Other than
your rather feminine hairstyle, I see no sign of other female characteristics.
This is a bit more than you're supposed to know at your young and impressionable
age,
SuperKid, but males cannot turn into females; not even young
males from Kryptune. However, they can take on a female appearance with years
of hormone therapy and extensive plastic surgery. Is someone threatening you
with this?"
"No, of course not, Dr. Whitecastle. I have been changed
into a female more times than I can count, and it is happening again. I need
you to help me figure out how and who is doing it to me this time."
"I see, and with all those so called 'super powers' of
yours you cannot tell?"
"Are you sure you're a real pseudoscientist?"
"Of course not, SuperKid. I have my doctorate from M.I.T.
I have more letters behind my name that even you could lift. I am a real scientist.
I deal in cold, hard, observable facts, not this mumbo jumbo about space aliens,
and ghosts and E.S.P. I can help you, but an investigation like this could
take years."
"I see, thanks, Dr. Whitecastle but I am a space alien
and I need a real pseudoscientist."
"In that case, I'd suggest Kevin Koá«nigburger. He's
a good man, and his office is one floor up."
I found the office easily enough, and went inside. Dr. Koá«nigburger
was a tall, pale man, with a dark goatee. He asked me to sit down.
"Tell me what's going on."
I filled him in on my latest changes. He nodded his head and
wrote it down on a notepad.
"And you say you have been a girl more than once?"
"I get changed once or twice a week. It started a while
ago with this lady from outer space. I thought she was just some space bimbo
with a feminist agenda, but I did come to learn that her changing me into
a girl was a good thing. I needed to get in touch with my feminine side. But
after that every super villain with a grudge has been changing me."
"I see, and has this presented any problem at home?"
"No, my foster family has been great about this. I'd swear
that I have more girl's clothes at the house than boy's clothes."
"And you are comfortable with this?"
"Dr. Koá«nigburger, I have a reputation to maintain.
I have to be well adjusted no matter what I look like. Otherwise, I'd have
to transfer my contract to that other comix company, you know the one, Marvelous
Comix."
"I see. Now, when you are a girl, do you feel like a girl?
Have you considered dating boys?"
"Doctor, please!" I exclaimed. "I'm underage.
Plus, like I just said, I am obligated to the youth of America and PC Comix
to be well adjusted, morally pure and one hundred percent heterosexual no
matter what my gender. I mean at PC we are liberal, but not that liberal."
"I see, but these days, don't you find PC Comix a bit commercialized?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Never mind. But, if you are that well adjusted and comfortable
with being SuperChick instead of SuperKid what's the point of changing back
into a boy when you will just be changed back a day or two later."
"I can't let the villains win, that would be sending the
wrong message, wouldn't it? I'm the Superhero-or I guess it's Superheroine
in this case. We're required to win in the last few frames."
"But don't you find winning and losing to be just so much
masculine posturing? Competitiveness isn't something that should concern you,
young lady."
"In many ways I know you're right, Dr. Koá«nigburger,
but I have my plot line to think about. Oh well, thanks for the help."
"I might suggest you see that new pseudoscientist in town,
Ivan Ihopsky. He might be able to help you further."
With nothing left to lose, I flew on to Dr. Ihopsky's office.
Dr. Ihopsky was a big, beefy man who wore a full black beard.
He welcomed me into his office with open arms. "Ah, da, da I yam Ihopsky
and I yam an official pseudoscientist at your service, SuperKidsky. Please,
vont you sit down?"
"Dr. Ihopsky, I'm surprised at you. This is PC Comix, after
all."
"Ah, yes, I forgot and by using my accent I have inadvertently
poked fun at people from different cultures. I am apologizing to all Slavic
speaking peoples that may have been offended by my accent. Is that PC enough
for the editors?"
"It should be Doctor, and thanks. As you can see I am turning
back into SuperChick and I need your help."
"Is this a problem? You are a rather attractive young lady,
after all. Much more attractive as SuperChick than SuperKid."
I felt myself blush. "You really think so? No, I can't
forget myself, even for a moment. I am SuperKid and I have to find out what
arch fiend is doing this to me this time."
"Hmmm, simple enough. Is there anything new in your life,
friends, objects, hairstyles?"
"No new friends, and my hair always does this when I change
to SuperChick, but Barbie gave me this locket yesterday, and Lana gave me
this watch."
Dr. Ihopsky nodded, and said, "If you were to look inside
those items with your x-ray vision what do you see? One or even both of the
girls might have been duped."
"Yes, of course," I agreed. "That has happened
quite a few times in the past." I scanned the locket and said. "Nothing
there, but a picture of me and Barbie. I signed it, of course, and…."
As I checked the watch, I felt shivers running up and down my spine. Inside
the watch I saw a small pebble that had a distinctive pink glow. I tore open
the watch, and found a grain of pink Kryptunyte of all things. As soon as
the pink glow touched me directly, the rest of me changed. I felt my hips
widen and my chest expand, but just a little; after all, I was still underage.
"It would seem that we have found the answer. Pink Kryptunyte,
I would imagine, a remnant of your home world of Kryptune."
"But what can I do, Dr. Ihopsky?" I asked as I flipped
my hair and posed prettily with one hip slightly forward.
"We cannot look at this logically, SuperChick. Think about
it. You came from a world that we know must be hundreds of light years away
from Earth. Your parents bundled you, as a baby, into a space ship that had
a faster than light drive, which of course is a logical impossibility right
there. When the planet exploded, dramatically enough moments later, pieces
of Kryptune, no matter how violent the explosion could not have been thrown
into space at speeds faster than light, so it is a logical impossibility that
Kryptunyte could even exists, let alone cause you so much grief now.
"So, we have to postulize that the faster than light drive
of your ship must have created some sort of vacuum that not only sent the
ship to earth but pulled along a substantial amount of matter from your home
world with it. That matter, during the trip must have been bathed by the ionic
after burn of the FTL drive which would account for it's changing from harmless
dirt and rock to deadly or unusual Kryptunyte. Now a lot of that matter would
have burned up in Earth's atmosphere if it had been ordinary space debris,
but since it was transformed into Kryptunyte instead we can assume that all
sorts of different colors of the stuff actually landed intact here, on Earth."
I applauded. "Now that's what I call great pseudo-science,"
I said. "I believe it. I believe it."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence, SuperChick. Now, logically
it would seem that if pink Kryptonite would make you female then blue Kryptonite
would make you male, but again, logic has nothing to do with this, so I'd
say you need to find some yellow Kryptonite real quick. Not gold, not blue
but yellow." He rubbed his hands. "Just think, SuperChick, if my
hypothesis is correct, that spaceship, your salvation from the destruction
of your home planet could, ironically enough, be the cause of your own destruction.
Good luck, and find that yellow Kryptunite before this change is permanent.
I'd say you have less than twenty-four hours, so get moving."
"I will, Dr. Ihopsky, and thanks. Thanks for everything,"
I said and took off through his window. After the sound of shattered glass
faded-most pseudoscientists install glass-free windows to avoid exactly that
problem-I did a quick flight around the world, scanning for yellow Kryptunyte.
I must have spotted tons of green and red Kryptunyte but no yellow, and no
time to destroy the vile stuff that I did find.
After a brief venture into outer space, I still had no luck
in finding yellow Kryptunyte. Depressed, I finally flew home to Tinytown.
I had less than eighteen hours to find some and there was none to be found.
The secret door behind the barn on my adopted family's farm opened and I flew
in through the secret tunnel into the secret closet in my bedroom.
"Great jumping horny toads," said Pa McKentzie as
I flew into the basement workroom. "Ma, Claire is back-again. What happened
to you this time, girl?"
"Pink Kryptunyte, Pa," I sighed. "I must find
some yellow Kryptunyte in the next twenty-four hours to counteract the change."
"Oh good, Claire, you're back. A new catalog just came
in and I need your help with some things,"
"Just a second, Ma," Pa said. "The girl needs
some yellow Kryptunyte. Know where she can get some?"
"Oh, sure, mothers always know these things, Pa,"
Ma said and shook her head. "I just read in the paper this morning about
the big Kryptunyte show that Arthur Applebee is holding at his place. He's
got every color including plaid and paisley. Now don't you go trying them
out, sweetheart."
"Arthur Applebee, isn't he young Alex Applebee's dad?"
I asked.
"Why yes, I guess he is. Now just because you and Alex
don't get along, sweetheart doesn't mean you should hold that against his
folks. If Arthur has this yellow Kryptunyte you need I'm sure he will let
you have some. Good folk, those Applebees. Always concerned about the neighborhood.
They serve a mighty mean barbeque, too."
"Way to go, Ma," Pa applauded. "Your Ma's got
this non-commercial commercial business down to a 'T', don't she, Claire?"
"Where is this exhibit being held, Ma?" I asked ignoring
Pa's outburst.
"Over at the middle school, of course, but I guess you've
been too busy fighting crime and saving the world from alien scum to notice.
Oh, and don't forget to put all your dirty costumes in the hamper dear."
"I should have known that. The writers love that sort of
irony," I sighed. "I'll be right back."
I flew to the auditorium to find the place swarming with kids
from the school, all there the see the exhibit. At the far end of the room,
Mr. Applebee stood collecting tickets. He let each child study a long display
case filled with glowing rocks.
There, I sighed as I spotted a small chunk of yellow Kryptunyte
right between the red and the green. I mean, how color insensitive was this
guy?
"Hey, wait your turn," some guy told me as I landed
a foot away from the display case. I glared at the dweeb until he apologized.
I had one chance to grab the yellow stone before the radiation
from the green or the red stones affected me. Using my blinding fast super
speed, I opened the case and snatched the yellow Kryptunyte in a millionth
of a second. As I stood back, waiting for the changes to start, I called out,
"I apologize for the interruption, but I have to borrow this."
Sure enough, as Dr. Ihopsky had postulated, the yellow stone
quickly transformed me back into SuperKid instead of SuperChick. Unfortunately,
the stone, once its purpose had been served, crumbled into so much yellow
dust in my hand.
"That was the only known specimen of yellow Kryptunyte
in the known Galaxy, SuperKid," Mr. Applebee shouted angrily.
"I know, and I am sorry, sir, but I had no choice. I…."
"Smile for the camera, SuperKid," a man's voice said
from behind me. I turned around to pose, only to have the flash go off in
my eyes. A pink glow surrounded me and seconds later I changed back to SuperChick.
I stared at the now useless yellow Kryptunyte dust in my hand for several
seconds as I counted to ten in several languages in order to calm back down.
The photographer lowered his camera. He was a tall man, swarthy-skinned
and wore a huge grin. "That was the only specimen of yellow Kryptunyte
in the galaxy and once again you fell for my trap, SuperChick. It is I,"
he said and removed a plastic mask to show the dark face of one of my old
adversaries.
"Doc Pappajohn," I gasped. "The Voodoo King."
"Correct, SuperChick. Better ingredients make for better
spells, don't you agree?"
"No, I don't, and my mom does those 'non-commercials' a
lot better than you do. I may be SuperChick again, but that doesn't mean I
can't arrest you. Maybe this time, they'll lock you up for good."
"Ah, but when are things what they seem?" the man
said and removed still another mask.
"Dr. Ihopsky?"
"Yes, SuperChick darling. I did this because I can't see
you, a real mega-babe, wasting herself on some mistaken notion that it's better
to be a dull clod of a boy."
"You won't get away with this, Ihopsky. I will…."
"You can't threaten me, SuperChick, I'm underage,"
the man said in a teenaged voice that I had heard before.
Once again he removed a mask to show the face of my arch nemesis.
"Young Alex Applebee," I exclaimed.
"That is so stupid," he said with a sigh. "Of
course I'm young, I'm a kid just like you, so there is no need to point that
out."
"Yes, but the editors of this comic decided ages ago that
the kids that read it are way too mentally deficient to figure that out for
themselves, Alex. Those kids are reading this comic after all. So, you are
young Alex. What do you want?"
"The same thing I've always wanted from you, SuperChick-a
date. I mean really, I ask you out one time and you treat me like some sort
of master criminal."
"You mean to tell me that you went through all of this
just to go out with me?" I said with a slight smile as I batted my super
long eyelashes at him before demurely lowering them.
"Yes, I am telling you that. Go ahead and snatch me baldheaded,
SuperChick, but will you go out with me?"
I thought for a second and looked again at the remnants of the only known
specimen of yellow Kryptunyte in the universe. "I thought you'd never
ask, Lexie. Where do you want to go?"
"No, SuperKid," Lana yelled out, her voice growing
more and more desperate as she spoke. "Don't listen to him. There's got
to be more yellow Kryptunyte. You can find it. You have to find it."
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude Five
As SuperChick and Alex walked hand and hand out of the auditorium,
in spite of the girl's protests, McKenzie Rigby sent his latest story to the
list. Now that's what fan-fic is all about. He turned off the computer and
sighed. He'd check his e-mail tomorrow.
Igor whined and Mac laughed. "Sorry boy, you can't be in
every story. Maybe next time."
"Say," Mac continued. "Isn't young David overdue
for your morning walk? Looks like I'm going to have to do some of that exercising
Janice insists would be good for me."
Grumbling, McKenzie was already huffing and puffing from the
exertion before he'd made it outside. Maybe this time he'd make it all the
way to the park before needing to rest and let the pains subside; four blocks
away. McKenzie wondered if David's absence wasn't part of another one of Janice's
machinations to get him to act healthier. Knowing Janice, it was an easy bet.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER SIX
[Puppick]
More [The Rigby Narratives]
The Ultimate TG Experience
Chapter Six -- Puppick
by
McKenzie Rigby
as told to
Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Six -- Puppick
Welcome to Castle Dracul," our tour guide spoke with that guttural broken
English that anyone who's ever watched a horror movie has learned to expect.
He was even dressed in the traditional, at least for Bavaria as opposed to Transylvania,
forest green shorts with crossed suspenders and knee high socks one expects
from a local tour guide. The little plastic tag with the name "Fritz"
on it was the most glaring inconsistency, but there were also some equally phony
looking wall hangings and suits of armor, as if Vlad the Impaler would have
used a jumble of late 14th century English and French armor. To put it bluntly,
it could not have been more fake looking if someone had tried. In point of fact,
as far as Melvin Ukiah Dodson could tell, only the physical structure itself
was authentic. Luckily, that bothered the middle-aged gentleman not at all.
"Save me the spiel, Hans," Melvin interrupted imperiously while waving
the tour guide into silence. "I don't need it and I don't want it. I'm
here to see the ghost you're village aldermen claim inhabits the castle, so
point me to the dungeon and let me stretch out my sleeping bag and gear."
"Ah, er, but of course Mr. Dodson." But it was quite evident from
the man's expression and tone of voice that it was not all right. "Follow
me please."
"Is this satisfactory Mr. Dodson?" Fritz asked icily.
It was the dungeon and it was dust free. In fact, it was actually the best-kept
room in the castle if you ignored the green slime seeping down one wall-probably
the one nearest the moat-or the flickering candlelight that didn't even reach
to the other walls. The rack and the iron maiden even looked authentic and period
appropriate.
"Sure, fine Hans. Now can we forgo the rest of the ten-cent tour and really
talk? I do have questions and I'd like to hear the answers, but not that garbage
that you hand out to the tourists."
"I'm not certain what you mean, sir..."
"But you'll stay as long as I'm paying for your time, right?"
"Well, yes-at least until nightfall. I will not remain in the castle after
nightfall no matter what the payment."
"Fair enough-if a bit clichéd. In the meantime, how about the real
story here? We both know the Dracula crap is exactly that-crap. Vlad's castle
is at least a hundred miles east of here."
"Well "
"Yah, yah. The Burgermeisters will be angry. Don't worry. I'm not going
to tell anyone, so your job is safe Hans-in fact, I'll triple your salary for
the month if you're completely honest with me. I'm independently wealthy and
I don't need to publish my findings. I'm just looking for one single instance
of a true paranormal event. It's become an obsession with me ever since-well,
for a long time."
The guide thought for several seconds before he answered. Melvin watched as
the guide's eyes transitioned from anger at Melvin's snide remarks, to calculated
greed and finally to acceptance.
The bad Transylvanian accent was replaced by the cultured tones of a public
school educated Englishman. "I believe we have a deal, Mr. Dodson. We shall
start with my real name, William I. Harrington."
"Pleased to meet you Will," Melvin said pumping the other man's hand
vigorously and smiling. "So, grab a seat beside me here on the rack and
tell me what's really happening here."
"Delighted. As you have already surmised, this is not the famous castle
of blood. No skulls ever hung from the ramparts and most of the furnishings
you see here are inferior Asian copies of other eras and other places. In fact,
one of the breastplates in the Great Hall is actually made of plastic. Quite
gauche.
"The true story of this castle is actually somewhat more peculiar, involving
an Englishman, a Priest, and a demon."
"This has all the makings of a really bad joke, doesn't it?" Melvin
asked propping his sleeping bag under his buttocks in order to get more comfortable.
"I hope it will at least have a good punchline. But I warn you, one more
lie and you get absolutely nothing."
"Oh, it will have an outstanding 'punchline' as you call it sir, it will "
-=-=-=-=-
The year was 1812. There was yet another war going on in those upstart colonies
across the ocean and Horace Whitting and his brother were somewhere in the Carpathians
cursing the driver who would not, or could not, understand their instructions
to drive at a slower, more respectable pace. The carriage bounced insanely down
the deeply rutted dirt road. Trees, so ancient and massive they completely arched
across the road, had swallowed the full moon and it was inconceivable that the
driver had the slightest concern for the safety of the horses, the carriage
or it's occupants. At the sound of a wolf, baying in the distance, the driver's
whip flashed and the carriage swept through the night with even greater abandon.
It became all its occupants could do to hold on to the handrails and pray for
safe deliverance.
Such was their condition, eyes closed, praying for Heavenly aid, that they failed
to notice the carriage shoot into a clearing with neatly plowed fields. It was
the silence visited upon them, the absence of creaking leather and groaning
springs that first caused them to realize that they had stopped.
Pulling aside the curtain, Horace espied flickering lights through a window
and realized the carriage now stood before a local hostelry. He tapped his brother,
Father Reginald, on the shoulder, so that he would drop his beads and open his
eyes. Then, pulling his brother along behind him, Horace stepped quickly from
the carriage, fearing the madman posing as a driver would suddenly decide to
continue his race through the stygian night.
As Father Reginald knelt to kiss the ground fervently, Horace examined the inn
before them. The lettering on the sign was faded enough to be illegible, even
should Horace have known the barbaric local dialect, but the image, in slightly
better repair, appeared to show an inverted five pointed star and a man's head
with the horns of a ram growing from it. Upon the door was a huge wreath of
a smelly tuberous plant that could only be garlic-it wasn't bad enough that
the locals had to cook with the vile stuff; they even used it as an adornment.
Surveying the rest of the village yielded less than a score of other structures
in even poorer repair then the tavern before them. With a sigh, Horace, pulled
at his brother until the priest was again standing and guided him toward the
inn.
"That is a sign of the devil. I will NOT enter that building."
"Henry Whitting," Horace shouted, using the priest's given name.
"You are my younger brother and I promised mother I would take care of
you. Now priest or no priest, you are not going to remain out-of-doors this
night unless you have decided that dying of consumption shall assure you of
martyrdom."
"I am not a martyr and I "
A great thud sounded as the brothers' wooden wardrobe trunk was flung from
the roof of the carriage, landing at their feet.
"Watch what you are doing you bloody great oaf," Horace shouted up
at the driver, but the frightened looking fool just spat and ignored him.
"Watch your language brother. I may be your junior, but I am also a priest,
as you have just reminded me." Father Reginald turned to the driver who
was frantically scrambling back to the driver's seat. "You there. Driver.
We wish to be brought to a different inn."
Without even glancing back, the driver clambered into his seat, jerked his
whip from its resting place and snapped it at the horses. The one on the left
reared when the whip struck its hindquarter, pawing at the air, foaming at the
mouth from the night's exertions. With a single wild roar it collapsed to the
ground, shuddered once and was still. Without even that much fanfare, the second
horse crumpled beside it and was dead also.
The driver stared down at the carnage below him, face white, eyes wide with
fear. Jumping from the carriage, he ran off into the twilight screaming. In
the distance the wolf howled again. There was a loud scream and then silence.
"Be strong brother. At best the image is a tasteless joke. At worst, there
are souls in there for you to save. Unless you wish to sleep outside with the
wolves or die of consumption, you will join me at this inn." Without glancing
back, Horace firmly grasped the trunk and, dragging it behind him, entered the
building, taking care to avoid the aromatic herbs on the door.
The wolf howled again. This time it was followed by an ungodly scream, much
like a man might make if he were being gutted and eaten alive. Father Reginald
hurried after his older brother into the inn.
-=-=-=-=-
"That was not too bad now, was it Henry?" Horace asked as he tossed
a chicken bone out the window of their new carriage.
Horace was again gently tweaking his brother for his fears at the inn. It had
actually been surprisingly clean and comfortable. The innkeeper, a man who talked
so much the bothers wondered if he also spoke in his sleep, had explained that
the inn had been named "The Devil's Horns" by an ancestor with an
unpleasant sense of humor and a tendency to serve "long pork" when
there was insufficient cattle, goat, or pig at hand. Despite this gruesome revelation,
their dinner and breakfast repasts had been surprisingly tasty. For that matter,
the innkeeper had been quite helpful, finding another carriage and driver to
take them to the conclusion of their journey. He had even prepared the evening
repast they were currently enjoying, for despite the man's best efforts, it
had still taken much of the day to find someone willing to bring them to whence
they wished to be taken.
Now, their journey's conclusion was almost at hand, Castle Fodor, was a short
way above them on the winding road they followed. Built on a mountainous crag,
its crenels and ramparts sullenly overlooked the valley below. Had it been light
enough when they had stopped the night before at the Devil's Horns, they would
have seen it, outlined by the blood-red glow of the setting sun.
"Our inheritance is almost upon us brother," Horace noted greedily.
"Not ours-yours, Father Reginald corrected. "I am here at the family's
request to insure that the place is free of all pestilence and evil. Once that
is completed I shall return to my contemplative duties at my order."
"True. True. Your wisdom is my undoing yet again and that is the real
reason for your presence. I may be the warrior who jumps to the fray, but you
are the scholar with the wisdom that tempers my blade. But look. It is upon
us. Rejoice, for this shall soon be over."
-=-=-=-=-
It had taken much of the afternoon to make it to the top of the mountain. The
slopes were steep, the switchbacks were sharp and the road narrow with an abrupt
drop off, so the carriage driver had moved slowly and deliberately. As soon
as they had reached the portico at the entrance to the castle, the driver had
unloaded their luggage, turned the rig and left, despite their repeated protests.
The two brothers stood by the main portico to the castle as the sun set through
the clouds of dust from the carriage's hasty departure.
As they watched the carriage disappear in a rapidly diminishing cloud of dust
behind a craggy outcropping, Father Reginald tried to make light of the situation.
"It must be a local tradition. They must be rushing off to evening mass."
"I think you must have the truth of it brother," Horace noted wryly,
"but I would have thought he might be patient enough to receive his fee
for services."
"So what now?"
"We explore the new family home," Horace answered as glibly as he
could under the circumstances. But then, as he grabbed the traveling chest,
he grumbled, "This is becoming a habit."
"Nonsense, dear brother. We'll have nun of that talk of habits in this
barbaric land."
Horace just groaned. Whether it was due to the bad pun or the strain on his
back, he would not say.
-=-=-=-=-
"This building must have been designed by a madman," Horace groaned
after yet another coughing fit. They had slogged through room after room; all
empty, excepting dust so thick it caused clouds when they walked through it-and
not a single right angle.
"Has anyone ever lived here," father Reginald wondered out loud.
"There's dust everywhere, all but this dungeon; not a trace of dust here."
Father Reginald examined the room. Green slime oozed down one wall. Along another
wall was an Iron Maiden and in the middle of the room was a rack. "I fear
that some great evil has occurred in this place. Give me a moment to lay out
my vestments and prepare. Then I shall bless this room and exorcize whatever
demons lay hidden in this place of evil."
"Do you not think you might be laying it on a bit thick brother?"
Horace asked, the wry smile that had faded as they had examined one dust-filled
room after another, returning to his features. "This is a dungeon. Most
dungeons have seen blood and death, but this castle has been empty for ages,
possibly centuries. We haven't even seen any rats. What self-respecting demon
would hang around such a barren accommodation?
"Next we shall hear the crack and rumble of thunder such as Madam Shelley
used in her tale of horror. What was the name again? Frank something? We read
it together at school; under the covers during a stormy night as I recall."
A cold breeze flew through the room, causing the candles to gutter and nearly
expire. Next there was a sharp crack followed by the prolonged booming of thunder.
It was muffled by the stone walls surrounding them, but still clearly identifiable.
"Feeling better now?" Father Reginald chided. "The Lord has
answered. Now allow me to complete my blessing."
"Sorry old chap, but I am afraid I must insist you desist from such actions."
The brothers turned as one toward the new voice, deep, rich and cultured, yet
somehow dripping with evil. The Iron Maiden was slowly opening. Horace perversely
wondered why the hinges did not squeak and began to wonder if it might not be
a newer, less valuable piece than he had initially guessed, albeit an excellent
copy. He quickly lowering his estimate of it's probable value, but this line
of thinking, and much of the rest of his reasoning capacity, squealed to a grinding
halt when he saw the thing coming out of the instrument of torture.
Father Reginald was first to recover. "Be gone vile demon!" he shouted
while reaching for the vial of holy water he had just set upon the rack.
Horace turned toward his bother to see what he was doing, or at least he began
to turn. He swiveled just far enough to see Father Reginald, hand extended,
face a rictus of terror, frozen in the act of reaching for the holy water.
"Oh, do turn your eyes this way. It is quite rude not to look at the person
with whom you are conversing."
As one, both brothers turned to face the Iron Maiden. From behind the half
opened door stepped an apparition from a nightmare, a horror of pulsing body
parts in constant motion, sliding from place to place on a vaguely humanoid
shape. As they watched, the mouth slowly slid into view at the crotch. They
watched it speak to them as it slowly traversed the body, zigzagging this way
and that around larger objects until it was located in the general vicinity
of a human's mouth.
"I must admit that it has been several centuries since I last had the
opportunity to speak to a mortal. Please make yourselves comfortable. Horace
found himself bending to seat himself in what felt like an overstuffed lounge
chair, except that he could see nothing.
Would you like a cigar?" A long cylindrical object slowly crept from the
thing's mouth. Smoke wafted gently from the tip and, as the creature took a
deep puff, the tip turned cherry red. It was only after the smoke cleared that
Horace realized exactly what was burning. He fought to scream and vomit at the
same time, but could not move.
"Tut tut dear lads, we must maintain proper decorum," the thing said
and suddenly the only desire either man has was to sit quietly and attentively.
"Gads, how rude of me. Here I am tutoring you in manners when I have neglected
to provide proper introductions.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Puppick, Arch Demon Sloth Puppick
at your service. And you are?"
Each man found himself providing a proper introduction.
"Much better. I am quite certain we shall get along famously. The two
of you shall assist me to escape my captivity in this barren castle. You, priest,
shall say the incantation, while you," he nodded politely to Horace, "shall
provide the physical form for me."
With that, Father Reginald stood and donned his vestments inside out and with
his cross hanging upside down. Then with great care, he urinated into the vile
of holy water. In the meantime, Horace carefully stretched himself out on the
rack, limbs spread to emulate the five points of a star. Puppick strode to a
position between the two placing one fluctuating extremity on each man's head.
Father Reginald, again unable to move except to speak, began reciting in Latin,
speaking the Lord's Prayer in reverse. The candles flared brighter and suddenly
Puppick started laughing maniacally. Then Horace started laughing also. As the
prayer proceeded, the demon's laughter became quieter and eventually stopped
while Horace's laughter grew louder and louder until it seemed to shake the
entire castle.
Father Reginald finished the prayer and stood mutely staring at the scene before
him. The demon's extremities slowly oozed to its sides and then the demon slide
to the floor in a quivering lump.
"Free. I'm free!" Horace shouted as he jumped joyously off the rack.
Father Reginald, still unable to move anything but his mouth called out to
his brother, "Horace. Quickly. Kill the monster. Show me the faith I know
you have and grab the cross from my neck. You can stab it into the monster to
kill it."
"I think not," Horace answered.
"But
" Father Reginald's eyes bugged out as he realized what
had happened.
"Ah, the good Father comprehends. Your dear brother is there." Horace
pointed to the disgusting mass on the floor.
"Sadly, you have shown that you still have the presence of mind to be
dangerous. I would have preferred to keep you about as a pleasing reminder of
my debased nature, but then I would need to be on guard constantly.
"No. I fear you must die, but if it will make you feel any better, your
death shall permit your dear brother to live, albeit in my shadow."
Horace's hand lashed out, penetrating the priest's chest and then slowly pulling
out a still beating heart. Horace muttered something and tossed the heart onto
the demonic mass. It instantly disappeared into the shifting masses.
Looking down at the thing that Horace had become, the demon tsked. "You
are an unsightly creature. Well, we shall do something about that immediately.
"I have left you a bit of my personal magic, just enough to permit you
to perform a few simple magics and, more importantly, to assure that the wards
on this castle recognize you as the demon to be contained herein rather than
me. Now stand and make yourself pleasing to me."
The creature stood. With a shudder, the body parts were engulfed by skin, raw,
red, pustule covered skin.
"More pleasing."
The skin became healthy. Hair formed. A duplicate of Horace stood in place
of the monster.
"Still more pleasing. I have been many long centuries without recourse
to satisfy my lusts.
Horace blurred and changed yet again. His waist shrunk. His chest developed
two large globes. Hair flowed to just above the buttocks and the body became
pleasingly soft and rounded. When the changes were done, Horace was now a fair
representation of Adam's first wife, Lilith, femininity personified. She bowed
and asked, "How may I please you, my lord?"
The new Horace jerked his thumb towards the rack.
-=-=-=-=-
"I can do without the lurid details," Melvin interrupted with a brief
frown of distaste.
"Uh-yes. Of course. Silly of me. Allow me to jump ahead to the conclusion.
"Horace was ravaged multiple times in more ways that any creature of flesh
and blood should ever become aware. Eventually, much later than it had originally
planned, the demon left. I suspect the hell spawn has been responsible for much
of the evil that has befallen the world in the years since. He left Horace,
broken and quite mad, in the castle with just sufficient magical ability to
change his form and do some simple parlor tricks. Horace has been responsible
for much of the castle's reputation as haunted. However, that same magical ability
also trapped Horace in the castle. It's been many long years since he's walked
anywhere but the dust filled halls of this decaying monument to the long dead
demon that created him.
"Nice story. Now how about some of that honesty you so glibly promised
me?"
"Certainly. I fear you are correct," the guide responded with a toothy
smile. "I was not completely candid with you. However, the lie was in my
name, not in my story, for I am not William Harrington, but Horace Whitting.
Melvin nodded knowingly, if a bit disappointedly. He had expected that little
plot twist. So obvious. So plebian. It destroyed the fabric of what had been
until then a fairly good story. Until then, Melvin had almost been willing to
pay for the story in lieu of an actual ghost.
He had just decided to wrap up this little morality play when he was interrupted
by a question from the guide. "By the way, did you wonder about the shapes
of the rooms?
Have you figured out why they are so irregular?"
"Nope. But you're going to tell me, aren't you?"
"But of course. It is the least I could do in return for your generosity.
It is the entire castle, by the way. It was built in the shape of a pentagram,
thus the irregular shapes of the rooms."
"Great. But your suggestion that I'm going to give you anything is mistaken.
I told you I would pay you if, and only if, you told me the complete truth.
You just admitted to lying about your name so the deal's off."
The guide's hand made a slight, but not quite perceptible gesture and Melvin
was unable to move.
Melvin attempted to rise but found he could not. "What the hell is going
on here? What did you do to
?"
Another gesture and Melvin was silent.
"Such a wonderful thing, the ability to do magic," the guide said
as his body slowly reformed into what appeared to be the appearance of an eighteenth
century gentleman. "Puppick left me so little, but I have scrimped and
saved and stolen so that I now have almost as much as he did. It is amazing
how much can be done when one is patient and has the perseverance to work toward
a goal. I've been such a good student too, practicing all the time. Did you
know that practice makes perfect? It also means that I can do more with the
magic I have than Puppick ever dreamed possible. Instead of giving up something
of myself like Puppick did to escape, I can just walk out of here, with your
assistance. I have decided to find Puppick and destroy him, taking his magic
for my own. You shall join me and serve me in my quest. I shall require a squire."
The guide spoke several words in an unrecognizable language and made two more
hand gestures. He watched as Melvin slowly changed.
"Of course, there must be priorities to life and I too have needs."
He snapped his fingers and Melvin could move. He quickly scrambled to his feet
and started to back away from the madman before him. Melvin almost didn't notice
the changes until he tripped and nearly fell over the cuff of his pants. Focusing
on himself, he felt movement to a part of his body that should never have moved
like it had. Looking down he realized that he was smaller
and
and
and
she screamed.
"Come to me my dear," Horace beckoned to the beautiful woman before
him. "First you shall salve my needs while providing me the last bits of
power I need to escape this prison. Then, we shall leave here and..."
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude Six
"I wonder, do you think anyone will get the Yiddish joke
about the name?" MacKenzie asked his dog. Igor refused to respond, lying
with his back to Mac.
"What? You're still angry about not being in that last story?
Geez, I didn't know dogs held a grudge. You're in this story as two characters-actually
more than two. First you are the wolves. Note the plural. That means more than
one. Then you were also the inspiration for William I. Harrington. Get it?"
"William I. The "I" actually stands for Igor."
The dog remained unmoved.
With a shrug, McKenzie sent off the story and then downloaded
his mail. There were a couple of pieces of spam, nothing significant, just attempts
to sell him swampland in Florida and others of that ilk.
MacKenzie quickly moved on to his list mail. "Okay folks,
let me see all those wonderful letters of praise and encouragement," he
thought with a smile. There was the biweekly announcement of how to unsubscribe
from the list. There were a ton of messages debating the proper terminology
to describe rabbit fur. Where were the damn letters of praise? Wait. Here was
one, about his Sherlock Holmes story. It was from someone called Wally the Weasel.
"Why didn't you tell the readers up front that Holmes and
Watson were old? How much older were they anyway, sixty, seventy, eighty. I'll
bet they were over a hundred for that kind of science to be around."
"Grrrrr." Flame time. MacKenzie started typing again.
He didn't stop until the tingling in his arm was so intense he could no longer
hold it over the keyboard. The tingling was accompanied by some minor chest
pain. McKenzie assumed it was probably discomfort from sitting hunched over
the computer for so long.
-=-=-=-=-
"Hey Igor," McKenzie asked as he looked up from the
television during the inevitable commercial, stretched and tried to rub the
tingling out of his shoulder. "Did you ever notice how email never comes
when your messaging program is in active use? I think it's an immutable law
of nature, much like 'a watched pot never boils' or-well you can come up with
another one on your own."
McKenzie had taken a day off from writing, from work, from family,
from everything-a vacation as it were. It wasn't that he was out of ideas; it
was just that Sister Dearest had finally trapped him. She had come by, allegedly
to make amends and to take him out to lunch, but instead had driven directly
to a physician's office where she had scheduled an appointment for him. Crafty
as ever, and knowing he'd never let her get him back to the first office, Janice
had found a physician with a second office in the same building as one of his
favorite restaurants. As a result, McKenzie hadn't even realized what was happening
until they got off on the wrong floor. There, in front of the dozen or so people
staring at him through the glass wall from the waiting room, he'd had to decide
whether to make a scene or go quietly into that dark night-er, into that examining
room. Now, every time he thought of that restaurant, it was immediately replaced
with memories of that medical exam. Instead of thoughts of wings, ribs and other
delights, both culinary and pulchritudinous, the thought, "I may never
appreciate white tee-shirts and orange short-shorts again," kept bubbling
to the forefront of his conscious.
Of course, the news from the doctor didn't help. High risk for
a heart attack. Morbidly obese. Lose weight. Eat healthier. Exercise more. Sleep
more. Blah, blah. In other words, stop living. It was advice like that which
added significantly to Mac's dislike for medical professionals and this one
even upped the ante by checking McKenzie's blood sugar, telling him he was borderline
diabetic and that the advice was now a necessity-if he wanted to live into old
age.
Anyway, today was a "relax and do nothing" day, a day
to pamper himself. Today was the last day of his life-er, his old life. After
today his life would change forever. Tomorrow he would start doing things right,
creating a better life for himself. Eating healthy. Sleeping right. Exercising.
But today those next two donuts looked awfully good.
When Igor balefully watched him down the donuts, and a third for
good measure, McKenzie's only response was to say, "What? At least I'm
not singing. I can you know."
Igor continued to stare with sad eyes at his master.
"Okay dog. You asked for it. "The sun will come up tomorrow "
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER SEVEN
[SRU to You, Too, McKenzie]
by
as told to
and
McKenzie found the shop at the end of a long, barely used corridor in the mall. A faded "Going Out Of Business" sign still hung in the front window, along with a collection of junk, knick-knacks and sundries. The sign over the door read, "Spells R'nt Us." A large sign on the door proclaimed in larger letters, "No Spells Here. That Means You. Under New Management."
Pushing his way through the door, McKenzie heard the tinkle of chimes overhead. The store had a wide array of goods, mostly used and all of it marked down for quick sale. He picked up a porcelain horse.
"Hi, McKenzie, how can I help you today?" said a young voice from behind.
The man turned and found a small boy, dressed in a gray business suit standing about a foot behind him. "How did you know my name?"
"All part of the whole Spells R'nt Us shtick, you know. I know, you were expecting someone older, dressed in a bathrobe, but the old dude is gone and I'm here now. Meet my guard dog," the kid said pointing to a puppy that looked a lot like a wolf cub.
"Oh, nice dog. Listen, I need something for my girlfriend, well, my ex-girlfriend, that might get her to change her mind about me. Heck-er, gosh-I just want her to love me."
The kid reached up and pulled on McKenzie's shirt. "Hey, mister, how old do I look to you?"
"Ten, maybe eleven," McKenzie said with a shrug.
"Good guess. I'm eleven, but do you really think I know anything about girls and what they want? Get real, here. You're supposed to wander through the shop, find something that you absolutely adore, give it to her and then have her laugh about how hideous it is. That's what usually happens. Look over here," the boy said and motioned McKenzie to follow. "See, we have an almost new Beauflex machine. You know you are a bit of a porker, there, mister. Twenty minutes a day and maybe in thirty years it will give you real twelve-pack abs. Wouldn't that impress your girl?"
"That's supposed to be six-pack abs."
The boy laughed. "You know anyone that has those in real life? Most guys that buy these things work out for twenty minutes, throw the machine away and spend the rest of the day pounding down twelve packs-like my dad. Forget six-pack, in thirty years you'll find out what twelve-pack abs look like. So, shop all you want, mister. Ring the bell when you're ready to check out."
Smart-assed kid, McKenzie thought as he walked down the first row of shelves. Nothing there, he thought as he headed down the second row, then the third. Eventually he made two complete circuits of the store before he noticed the doll. The toy looked to be an antique, with a pale-white porcelain head, a brown wig and white hands. A touch of rouge was painted on each of the doll's cheeks and it was dressed in a flowing white dress with lavender bows. Barbie would love it, he decided. She collected old dolls, after all.
He carried the doll to the counter and rang the bell. The wolf cub yipped a couple of times until the boy in the suit came out of the backroom. He took one look at the doll and nodded his head.
"Good choice, McKenzie. She might actually like that. Now how much do you think a priceless antique doll like that would cost?"
"Priceless antique? Please, kid, don't make me laugh. I'll give you twenty for the doll."
"Done-Sold American!" The kid snapped and grabbed the offered twenty. "That has to be exactly what your girl friend wants. Have a good afternoon, mister. Come back anytime."
McKenzie cradled the doll as he walked out the door. Something about that transaction didn't seem right. The kid hadn't put up any sort of fight over the price. Too young, or perhaps the doll really wasn't as valuable as he thought. In any case, he thought as he settled the doll on the front seat of his car, he would take the doll home and work on finding the best time to give it to Barbie.
Over the next week, McKenzie relaxed by brushing and arranging the doll's hair. He bought several, old fashioned outfits for the doll to wear, and he found that he liked dressing her-so much so that by the end of the week the doll had a pretty outfit for each day. He especially liked the frilly white dress he had picked up for Sunday church services.
Sunday morning came. McKenzie spent time primping himself, brushing his freshly washed hair, shaving very close and even clipping the hair in his nose. Finally, at ten that morning someone knocked on the door.
He walked over to the door and opened it. Barbie walked in, still as pretty as ever.
"This has better be good, McKenzie. I had hoped I would never see you again."
Fighting the sudden cramps in his stomach, McKenzie nodded, and managed a nervous smile. "I know, Barbie, and I know that we can never be any more than good friends now, but I do want to be your friend. I found this for you."
"What?" she asked, less than impressed.
McKenzie walked over to the doll, picked it up and hugged it. This was crazy; he couldn't give up his doll. She was his, not Barbie's. Not sure what to do, he stammered out, "Uh, uh, I…."
"Oh, what a beautiful doll," Barbie exclaimed. "I love her."
"No, she's mine," McKenzie shouted. He felt the doll tingle in his hands. "I love her. She's mine."
"Then what was it…oh, my God," she said as the man visibly shrank five inches in front of her. He shrank again, and his face grew younger. McKenzie's hair stood out from his head as it grew longer, blonder and curly. He had no chance to pick at his oversized shirt, before he shrank again. This time, his clothes changed with him.
"What?" he managed to blurt out as his shirt and pants flowed together to make a little girl's party dress. His shoes changed to Mary Jane's complete with white ankle socks, and a large pink ribbon tied itself in his hair. McKenzie, now the size and shape of a five year old, closed his eyes as the world shuddered.
Melanie opened her eyes, and held her dolly tight. "Oh, thank you, Mommy, she's beautiful."
"That came from an old friend of Mommy's, Precious. He will never know it, but he gave me you and you were exactly what Mommy wanted. Let's go get in the car, and go home."
"Yes, Mommy."
The wolf pup whimpered as the kid closed up the shop.
"What?" the boy asked.
Another whimper, followed by a whine.
"So? I know it's traditional, but this is my shop now and I don't do bimbos."
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude Seven
"Yes!" thought McKenzie, as he read the latest batch of messages from the list. They still love me. Even Igor seems to have forgiven me. Maybe it was the wolf pup in this latest story. Maybe it was the one less donut McKenzie had eaten today. Mac really didn't care why the dog was paying attention to him again as long as he was doing it. With Barbie nothing more than a digital fantasy, Igor was his only real-life friend.
Of course, he had more friends on the 'net. There had been three different messages of support, or to be more accurate, messages chastising his critic, Wally the Weasel; whoever that was. Boy that felt good; another one or two and it would probably turn into a full-blown flame war. Changing identities, Mac happily typed away. Before he was done, not one, not two, but three new messages were flying through the electrons of the Internet to help the war along.
as told to
Andy Hollis
and
Jaye Michael
Chapter Eight -- Vector/Victoria
"Thank you ladies and gentlemen. Thank you." Another bow and the applause finally died. Victoria Lane glided off the stage and to her dressing room, or as she preferred to call it, her closet with built in makeup table.
"What took you so long dearie? Waiting to see if one of those jealous queens was going to throw you a bouquet?" Freddie asked as he carefully removed the pins and slid Victoria's wig off her head. Freddie was the best dresser Victor had ever found.
"Ouch," Victoria complained. "Be careful. You nearly pulled out the rest of my hair."
"I didn't pull any of your hairs dearie and you know it. Someone's got a bit of testosterone poisoning, if that shiny dome is any indication."
"I am not going bald. I'm…"
"Already bald," Freddie interrupted with a huge grin. "You've been bald as long as I've known you. More than ten years now. Why I knew you when you were still…"
"Victor Lansky," Victoria said in significantly lower male voice. "But I'm still the best damned female impersonator in this city and the only one who's straight."
"True, true, but what a waste. You know you'd have 'em lined up and waiting if you'd just give 'em a nod."
"There's a better chance I'm going to give up little Victor. Why don't you give them a thrill? I know you want to."
"I probably would, but you know as well as I that they want the star-they want you, not me."
"Oh hell. This corset is killing me. Help me get out of this rig," Victor demanded as he grabbed a handful of cold cream and started rubbing it on his face. "I wanna go home and watch the Knicks game, assuming I set the VCR properly."
"You need a man to do that properly," Freddy smiled cattily and paused for effect, "the VCR I mean."
"Be careful dearie. You know this is a bad area," Freddie said as he waved goodbye from the stage door.
"Don't worry about me Freddie. I'll be fine. I've been a New Yorker all my life." Victor waved and strode confidently up the garbage-strewn alley.
While it's true that people are doing things twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week in any city, and that New York, being one of the largest cities in the world, has more people working the off-hours than most, 3 AM is still a pretty quiet time. The bakery and newspaper trucks have yet to start their appointed rounds. The night shifts won't end for another three hours or so. Only the bums, hookers and others with a special affinity for the dark are about.
If Victor had not been making this same walk to the IRT every night for the last fifteen years, first as a stage hand, then as an apprentice like Freddie and finally as a star, he would have felt much less secure. Even so, he still kept his head down and walked briskly, not wanting to intrude or allow others to intrude on his life. He would stay in the lighted sections of the main streets, walking near, but not next to others who had clear destinations and steer clear of the loiterers, the ones who wanted something from you. Too many people got mugged, maimed or murdered because they didn't know the rules and Victor had vowed that he would not be one.
The quick pop, pop, popping sound changed those rules. One pop might have been a tire blowing out. More than one meant trouble with a capital "T" and that meant find a safe spot and hide until the turf war, hit, or marital disturbance was done.
Unsure where the noises had come from, or even if it really had been more than a single pop due to the echoes off the tall buildings surrounding him, Victor picked a direction at random, ran the few feet to the nearest alley and bolted into it. That was his first mistake.
As he entered the dark alley two large men, each easily a head taller than him ran past him. One struck Victor a grazing blow as he passed, making the man lose his grip and drop the already half opened medical transport container in his hand. The bump knocked Victor off balance and sent him spinning even as he tried to reverse direction. That was his second mistake.
If he had just stopped or even fallen immediately as a result of the bump, he probably would have been okay. However, Victor, not connecting the two men to the probable gun shots he had heard, tried to keep moving into the alley and regain his balance. Instead, he staggered backward several steps until he tripped and fell over something. Victor used all the grace and fluidity he had learned and practiced since starting gymnastics and ballet classes as a preteen to twist as he fell, hoping to turn enough to allow him to use he hands to cushion the fall. That was his third and final mistake.
He nearly made it. One hand, still bent at the elbow, struck something large and soft. It was an awkward position, but the lump saved him from a possibly serious injury had his unprotected elbow struck the pavement. He did manage to extend his other hand and the palm of that other hand struck the litter strewn cement and skidded producing pain.
Cursing prodigiously, Victor started to push himself into a kneeling position so he could get up when his eyes acclimated to the lower level of light in the alley. That's when he realized that the lump he was lying on was a man, a very dead one given the significant portion of his head that had been blow away.
Sad to say, in this day and age not everyone is a model citizen. Victor thought long and hard before he pulled out his cell phone with his uninjured hand and called the police. He was sorry almost immediately.
In what was, in Victor's admittedly limited experience, a very short time, a police car pulled up to the entrance to the alley and two large police officers clambered out. Neither was smiling and both acted like Victor had pulled the trigger.
Both had flashlights and while the smaller of the two half-heartedly examined the body for a pulse and shook his head. "He's got a uniform on. Looks like he does deliveries for some company called BioGenTech." Standing, he strolled back to the patrol car to call the coroner to pick up the body and the detective squad for whoever was on call. While he was doing that, the larger cop roughly pushed Victor against a brick wall and shone his flashlight in Victor's eyes as he demanded identification.
"License!"
Victor pulled it from his wallet and gave it to the cop.
"Victor Lansky, 112 Houston apartment 15E." Frowning the cop examined the photo on the license and matched it against Victor's face.
"That you?"
"Yes officer."
"It's a little late to be taking a stroll this far away from home. What are you doing here?"
"I'm an entertainer. I work at the 'Cattle Call,' two blocks south of here. I was on my way to the subway to go home when…"
"Slow down. I don't want your life story. Ain't that that gay sex club?"
"It's a club and some of the patrons may be other than heterosexuals, but it's not a sex club. Besides, what does that have to do with…?"
"I said, I'd ask the questions. So what made you decide to turn in this alley when the subway entrance is two blocks north?"
Victor sighed and decided that the next time he found a dead body he was going to walk away. It was going to be a long night."
"My don't we look like shit?" Freddie asked as soon as he strutted into the dressing room and saw Victor's face. Victor was too tired to even respond. "What's wrong? Are you sick?" he asked solicitously.
"No, just dead tired. I found a dead body last night on the way home and made the huge mistake of calling New York's Finest. I haven't slept and I spent most of the time since I found the body being grilled like I was the murderer. It was just moments ago that I cleaned up the cuts and abrasions on my hand. Boy was there a lot of blood." Head slumping onto his arms on the makeup table, Victor's muffled voice added, "I'm dead tired and I feel like I'm going to throw up."
"You're burning up too," Freddie noted as he pulled his hand away from Victor's forehead and shook it like he'd burned himself. "You're going back home and to bed. I'll tell the manager you're sick."
Victor's objections were overruled by his sudden need to vomit."
"Felling any better dearie?"
Victor found himself in his own bedroom, staring up at his friend. Freddie was holding a tray with a bowl of something on it. "Here's some chicken soup. I got it from the kosher deli down the street so it should have enough good stuff in it to cure whatever you've had. It's been four days by the way. Do you think you can sit up? Would you like some help? I can…"
"Whoa Tonto," Victor held up a hand to stop the torrent of words. His arm looked thinner than he remembered and Victor thought, "I must have been really sick," but he elbowed himself into a sitting position and realized he was in his pajamas but still had his breast forms on.
"Freddie, thank you for all you've done, whatever you've done, but I'm beginning to feel better. Can you help me to the bathroom so I can relieve myself and then can you help me get these damn breast forms off? I'm going to have a horrible rash." I opened my pajama top to display the offending appliances.
"Ah Victor? I think there's something you should know. While you were sick, something happened. You…"
The doorbell rang, followed immediately by the sounds of loud and insistent pounding on the door.
"You…"
"Open up in there. This is the police."
"You…"
"Had better get the door Freddie. You can tell me whatever it is that's so important after the cops have gone."
With a sigh, Freddie left to get the door.
"Are you Victor Lansky? No, you're not him. Where's Victor Lansky?" The voice grew louder as it approached Victor's bedroom."
"You can't go in there I've got a sick friend in there," Freddie said shrilly.
"Yeah. Right." A second later, the detective who'd replaced the street cop and questioned me all night and most of the next day was in the bedroom.
"Victor Lansky, you are under arrest for the murder of…" He stopped and stared at the breast forms.
Annoyed Victor purposely left the pajama tops hang open as he used his best Marilyn Monroe voice to answer, "Can I help you officer?"
"Uh…uh…"
"Cat got your tongue officer?"
"Are you Victor Lansky?"
"Do I look like Victor Lansky?" Victor smiled sweetly.
"It says here Victor Lansky is an entertainer, a female impersonator to be specific. For all I know, you are Victor Lansky," he replied gruffly, still staring at the breast forms.
"Well, what do you want me to do officer, strip my pajama bottoms off so you can decide whether I'm a boy or a girl?"
"Uh…" You could almost smell the smoke from his overloaded brain. "Uh…no. I guess that won't be necessary."
Turning to Freddie, he said, "If you see Victor Lansky, you tell him to contact Sergeant Lincroft at this number." The officer shoved a business card into Freddie's chest pocket. "It would be best for him if he turned himself in."
"Ooh officer. Can I have another card?" Freddie asked dreamily.
The officer cursed and stalked out of the apartment. As soon as the officer was gone, we both laughed hysterically. When we had finally recovered enough to talk, I reminded Freddie that I needed to get to the bathroom and also to get the breast forms off.
"That's what I was trying to tell you before Officer Lincroft so rudely interrupted. Now look dearie, I'm going to say this fast, before there are any more interruptions, so don't freak on me, okay?"
"Freddie, just tell me whatever it is you have to say already. If you keep procrastinating like that, I'm going to wet the bed soon."
"Right." He took a deep breath. "Those aren't breast forms, they're real breasts. Somehow, you've turned into a real woman. There, I've said it."
He stood expectantly, waiting for Victor to tell him he was nuts, but Victor just got a distant look on his face as he mumbled, "BioGenTech. Biosample case. Cuts on hand. More blood than I would have expected from the minor injuries I had. Oh shit." Victor Lansky fainted.
"When Victor woke up, Freddie was sleeping in a chair beside his bed, head back, snoring quietly. Careful not to wake him, Victor slid out of the bed and padded into the bathroom. The urge to relieve herself was strong, but the urge to examine herself was much stronger.
She felt faint when she saw the image reflected back in her mirror. The height looked to be about the same. Five foot eight, she guessed. And she estimated that her weight was now a bit less at about 115 lbs. instead of 145, but that was where things diverged dramatically. Her bald head now sported a luxuriant mane of blonde hair. Her "breast forms" appeared to be a healthy D cup. Her waist was positively tiny, flowing outward into a clearly feminine pair of hips and down into an outstanding pair of legs-the word "gams" fought for and quickly supplanted legs as the appropriate descriptive term. All in all, Victor had to admit that whoever had created the concoction-she couldn't think of a better word-that had changed her, had done an absolutely fabulous job.
Curiosity finally assuaged, Victor began her morning ablutions, showering, shaving, relieving herself, moisturizing, etc. It amused her to note that the differences were minimal. Basically, she did not need to shave her face or don one of the corsets she so hated. One of the advantages of being a female impersonator was that she was already doing much of what the average woman would do, although some additional study regarding the unique peculiarities of feminine hygiene and medical care seemed a high priority.
The other thought that kept running through Victor's mind was "why am I not more upset by this?" It has made me a non-entity. I can no longer do my job. Even if I can find a way to become Victor Lansky again, I'm going to be a fugitive. She was still pondering these issues as she walked out of the bathroom and found Freddie in the kitchen preparing breakfast.
He had set the small round table with a clean white tablecloth and placed a single rose in a narrow fluted vase. Wondering what was going on, Victor sat and watched as he placed the finishing touches on a plate of sliced fresh strawberries covered in freshly whipped cream and lightly dusted with powdered confectioner's sugar. Beside that, he added a steaming cup of coffee with a touch of Irish Cream and more whipped cream.
"What's the occasion?"
"I guess we could say it's your coming out party."
Victor hesitated several moments, uncertain how to respond. "I'm not quite certain I understand Freddie. Do you mean we're celebrating my becoming a woman?"
"And the first time I've ever slept over at your place. And your new career. And…"
"Whoa. Slow down there. I'm still a bit slow it seems. What are you talking about? I've lost my identity and my job. I'm a fugitive. I've got some disease or something that's changed me into a woman. I don't understand what we're celebrating."
"Tut, tut dearie. You worry too much. Relax. Enjoy your breakfast and let old Freddie explain."
Victor didn't move.
"Come on. Eat up. You wouldn't want to hurt my feelings now, would you?"
"Perish the thought," Victor couldn't help laughing. Picking up her fork, she took a small portion and chewed it daintily. "Say this is really good. I should have invited you over years ago."
"Just one of my many talents. I once spent a year at a culinary school. Now enjoy and allow me to clarify your life."
Victor nodded and took another mouthful, allowing it melt in her mouth. It was hard to concentrate on anything but the fantastic flavors bursting in her mouth, but she made the effort.
"I've been awake a lot more than you and so I've had more time to consider what's happened here. Let's take things one a time.
"First, whatever the biological vector was that caused this change…"
"BioGenTech. The guy had a BioGenTech delivery uniform."
"…right…it's a biological vector. Now I once spent a year and a half working for the New York City Coroner's Office and I learned that there are really only two types of vectors, those are methods of transmission, for biological agents.
"They can be transmitted through the air, but I've been breathing the same air as you for nearly a week with no impact, so we can probably rule that out.
"They can also be transmitted through bodily fluids and I've handled enough of yours while you were sick, that I'm pretty sure we can rule that out. Besides, just to make sure, I did the old blood brother oath thing with you-you know, mixing our blood together-without being effected.
"The bottom line is-you're not contagious."
"That's good, right?"
"Yes dearie, that's very good.
"So that leaves the issue of identity and employment.
"And the fact that I'm now a wanted fugitive."
"Wrong dearie. Victor Lansky is a wanted fugitive. You're not him any more.
"Let's take care of identity next. Remember how you asked me to help you find a way to travel as Victoria without getting arrested when you were running from gig to gig last year?"
"The fake IDs?"
"Exactly dearie, the fake IDs, the best that 42nd Street could provide. You have a birth certificate, a driver's license, a social security number, and even a credit card in the name of Victoria Lane.
"Victoria Lane," she mussed. "Victoria Lane. I'm Victoria Lane. Pleased to meet you, I'm Victoria Lane." She extended her hand to Freddie and he shook it with a big smile.
"But that leaves money. I don't have a job any more."
"Of course you do dearie. Seymour down at the 'Cattle Call' has been calling every day to check on how you are doing. He wants you back so bad it isn't funny. Business is off more than 30% since you went out sick."
"But Freddie. I can't be Victoria Lane the person and Victoria Lane the entertainer. It won't work. Who's going to want to see a female impersonating a female?"
"Dearie, dearie. That's the absolute beauty of it. You won't be a female impersonating a female; you'll be a female impersonating a male who is impersonating a female. Didn't you ever see that movie with Julie Andrews and Robert Preston? It's called…"
"Victor/Victoria." Victoria hugged Freddie for all she was worth.
McKenzie scratched at the itch on his chest. It had been itching a lot lately. And he was also going to need a haircut soon or his supervisor at the warehouse was going to get on his case. He had hoped it was just an allergy that would subside once Igor went on his quarterly trip to the groomer, but no such luck. The dog had been groomed more than a week ago and the groomer had been very specific about the absence of fleas, tics or anything else that might explain a rash.
It was like a conspiracy. Even the dog groomer wanted McKenzie to see a physician. "But no," Mckenzie shouted and danced around the apartment with his arm extended like he was flying-until he tired and dropped heavily back into his computer chair, "SuperKid is free again, no pseudoscientist will trick me into another visit to a doctor's waiting room again."
Turning away from the computer, Mac stretched and walked over to the gray box on his kitchen table. Inside, it had a gun-like object with a shiny golden sheen. There was what looked like a handle and a barrel, but no other buttons or triggers. McKenzie had to admit it might not even be a gun except in his imagination. Whatever it was, it had fallen out of one of the boxes he had accidentally knocked over at work when the bird had tried to dive bomb him to keep him away from it's nest. He'd have to think about that. Maybe he could use it in a story he thought as he turned it in various directions and flicking the trigger several times.
as told to
Andy Hollis
and
Jaye Michael
Chapter Nine -- The Princess Journals
"McKenzie Rigby?" The man at the door wore a dark gray suit that screamed money. A red rose resided in the lapel of his suit jacket.
"Yeah?" McKenzie asked scratching at his chest. "That's me. Who are you?"
"I am Count Kristoff von Dachnaney. I represent the government of the Kingdom of Slovarnia. May I come in?" the man asked showing McKenzie his ID and papers.
"Sure, I guess, but what do you want with me?" McKenzie stepped out of the doorway. The man headed directly to the kitchen table and picked up the metallic gray object.
"Do you know what this is?"
"No, and I didn't steal it, if that's what you're thinking. I found it at work."
"It's yours, your highness. This is the case for the Royal Seal of Slovarnia, The Lion and the Tiger. Open it please."
McKenzie took the case, fingered it a couple times and, as if on cue, the case popped open to show what appeared to be a solid gold medallion with the images of a lion and tiger standing on their hind legs with a large seal between them engraved into the metal.
"So?" McKenzie looked up from the seal.
"Mr. Rigby, you have that seal because you are destined to have it. You are aware that you were adopted at birth, are you not?"
"Sure, why? My mother told me that when I was a kid, but I never could find my birth parents."
"Your birth parents were the last King and Queen of Slovarnia, King Richard, and Queen Emma. You were their first born child and thus are the heir to the Royal Throne."
"McKenzie laughed. "That has got to be the worse joke I have ever heard. Look, Mister, who are you really?"
"I really am from the Royal Court and I am here today to escort you, your highness, back to your kingdom. You were born the Princess Maryanna Magdelaine Eustacia Tatiana von Korngold."
McKenzie shook his head. "Look, Count. I don't know what you are trying to pull, but I am a male, there is no getting around that simple fact. I pee standing up, I shave and I never took a hormone pill in my life. No amount of surgery or injections when I was an infant could have done this to a female baby."
"Oh, no, your highness. We don't have all of that new science and technology in Slovarnia, yet. An old Gypsy woman named Bombi performed the magic that made you a male, in every respect."
"Bombi?"
"Yes, that's the one. An old Gypsy woman. Do you remember her? No? Doesn't matter then. She was an old crone when you were born and is positively ancient now. That is why we have to rush. If she dies before she removes this curse from you there could be dire consequences. Dire for you and the kingdom."
"I don't like the sound of that," McKenzie said. "Sounds like something I'd write. What would happen if Bombi died before removing the spell from me?"
"I don't know for certain, your highness, but I think you would turn into a little dog-a cute little black dog, with a pug nose."
"Ah, but you don't know for certain. Who is ruling Slovarnia now?"
"That would be your uncle, Count Bedrich Smetanoff. He is taking care of the country, but everyone knows that he is just a straw man, waiting for your return."
"Ah, I see, but if my uncle usurped the throne so many years ago, why would he give it back to me now?"
"Good question, your highness, and I imagine he wouldn't give it back-that is if he was the one that usurped the throne. That was done by a rogue, a real wizard of a confidence man, who called himself Ozzie Mandious. He proved to be nothing more than all flash with no substance, and your family did take back the throne last year with great rejoicing. Now, to make the celebration complete we ask that you, your highness, return to your ancestral home as well."
"This Ozzie guy, are you saying he killed my parents?" McKenzie demanded.
"Oh, no, not at all. Your mother and father, the former King and Queen of Slovarnia, retired to Monaco with most of the family treasury. They are still there as a matter of fact."
"Then why, in the name of all that is holy, was I turned into a boy, given to poor peasants in this country to raise, when my family is living it up in Monaco?"
"It is traditional," Count Kristoff explained with a shrug. "Your father was given to peasants and your grandfather before that. You grew up in poverty to get a better understanding of your subjects. Look around you, your highness. This flat, that computer and your job must be one hundred times better than the wealthiest of the peasants in Slovarnia. In Slovarnia you would be lucky to have a dirt hut and chicken of your own.
"Now don't go worrying that soon to be pretty little head of yours about the peasants, your highness. They have lived this way for hundreds of years. They wouldn't know any other way, so there is no need for you to start thinking of reforms. It isn't traditional."
"I see. Since my parents have most of the family treasury, as Princess would I have anything, or would I be lucky to have that same hut and chicken?"
"But you have the Ruby City, your highness, and the Ruby Palace and the lifestyle that goes with it. You also have any number of rich, royal suitors. You will not want for anything."
"Royal suitors? Oh, but I have a girl friend. Well, she was my girlfriend, but…."
"Do not worry about Miss Barbie, your highness. She has been silenced."
"What?" McKenzie shouted horrified. "You killed Barbie?"
"No, of course not," the count said quickly. "But, by now she will be hanging by her thumbs in Castle Caerfydduffyn to keep her silent. We cannot have anyone that might give you away to the enemy before your coronation, your highness."
"But I thought the Usurper was gone. What enemy?"
"Ah, this will be a problem, but nothing that you can't handle, your highness. Your cousin, the Grand Duchess Ginger has decided to take the crown for herself. She is claiming that you are dead. We must get you to Bombi before she can usurp the throne from you."
"But if she did, couldn't I then retire to Monaco with my parents?" McKenzie asked.
"No, Grand Duchess Ginger has never been one for traditions. She would have you killed in a heartbeat if she knew where you were."
"I've written about men transforming to women," MacKenzie mused aloud. "Okay, I've written about a lot of men transforming to women. I like the idea of being royalty, but I'm not sure if I want to become a female in real life to do it. I'd wind up as a little dog if I don't?"
Count von Dachnaney nodded solemnly.
"Then shouldn't we go?" McKenzie asked, making up his mind.
"Yes, your highness."
"I have nothing to keep me here, then. To Slovarnia. How long a trip is it?"
"By the Concorde, not long at all. We do have one desert to fly over, and that is rather awful, but then you will experience the delights that Slovarnia has to offer it's true Princess."
Two cars waited outside for the Count, both nondescript Japanese makes. Five men waited in the second of the cars.
McKenzie glanced at the man and he nodded questioningly.
"You're honor guard," the Count explained. "Those men have sworn loyalty to your family and to you, your highness. They would give their lives for you."
"Really?" McKenzie asked, glancing back at the men in awe. He scratched his chest.
"Yes, and pray that you don't have to test that loyalty," Count von Dachnaney said quietly.
The flight across the continents took forever, but the amenities on the plane made up for it. For the first time in his life, McKenzie flew first class and had stewardesses actually treat him with a show of respect. And the deference from each of the guards could grow addictive, he thought as he sipped another gin and tonic.
"If my friends on the list could see me," he said wistfully.
"They will eventually, your highness. After all, when you are restored to the throne, it will make international news. Be prepared for the fame that follows."
"But I don't know how to act like a princess. I grew up poor, remember?"
"Of course, it is tradition. Because you are the Princess, no one at court will dare laugh at your social blunders or your less than eloquent way of expressing yourself. They will, of course, titter behind your back all the time just loud enough that you will hear them, but not loud enough that you can call them on it. That, too, is tradition. In time, you will learn what you need to know about surviving court functions, but you will have a couple of good years for that, at least until the next usurper comes along."
"The next usurper?"
"Yes, they have one maybe two years to usurp the throne while the next Crown Prince or Princess is an infant, and after that the chance is lost. There are no registered usurpers at the moment, but that could change."
"One or two years?" McKenzie asked feeling lost.
"The Royal Heir must be an infant in order for the change of gender to be effective. Two is pushing it, although it has been done. Expect some turbulence when we approach the air space over the desert. They don't call this flight the twister for nothing."
"I feel that I should be riding a house and have a little dog at my side?" McKenzie admitted. "Usurpers, courtiers and Princes, oh my!"
McKenzie watched the luggage from first class circle around the luggage rack. He froze at the sound of a stern woman's voice from behind him.
"Now which one of you-a-hem-handsome gentleman would be McKenzie?"
All of the men turned to stare at a tall woman, dressed in military style, from her olive tunic down to her patent leather pumps. She wore rather large diamond earrings and makeup that set off her green hair and eyes.
"Well, Grand Duchess," Count von Dachnaney said quietly. "What brings you here?"
"To see the fool that will be playing 'MaryAnn.' What else, my good Count? Anyone of you have the guts to admit it?"
"I'm McKenzie," one of the guards said bowing his head.
Shamed by this show of self-sacrifice, McKenzie answered as well. "No, I'm the one you want, Ginger, my dear. But where is the Skipper and Gilligan?"
"Don't listen to him. That's Gilligan, my dear. I'm McKenzie," added another guard.
"Don't look at me," said the third guard. "I'm just a guard."
Ginger looked behind her to her men, also dressed in quasi-military uniforms. "Take that one out and shoot him. There is never 'just a guard,' in situations like this."
"Wait!" cried an old voice from down the hallway. "Wait." A young man arrived in a sweat, pushing a wheel chair with an ancient lady half sitting, half slumped in the chair. "I am the Gypsy, Bombi," she said. "I can tell who the real Princess is."
"Get the old crone before she spoils everything," Ginger demanded.
"Princess?" several of the guards asked. "You said that the real Princess was dead, your Grace."
"She will be in a minute, once you've killed her. What difference does a day or two make? Get that crone or you will all pay dearly."
"I will pay a lot better than she does," McKenzie added.
Bombi pointed to the men, then stared at McKenzie. "You were just a babe in arms the last time these old eyes saw you, your highness. The real Princess has a strawberry shaped birthmark about an inch above her left breast."
McKenzie scratched his chest, and frowned. He opened his shirt and looked down at the red blotch that had been itching recently. "It does look like a strawberry, doesn't it?"
"Your Highness," Bombi said quietly. "You are the true heir to the throne of Slovarnia."
A thick white mist surrounded McKenzie from the floor up. He felt his entire body tingle, then shake as years of overeating melted away from his frame. His pale, pasty skin turned rosy fresh and his body developed some rather interesting curves. He felt his chest swelling against his T-shirt and, at last, his hair turned into golden tresses that curled over his shoulders.
"Your highness!" all the guards exclaimed including Ginger's.
McKenzie stopped studying his new body. He would have time later to shower and get used to his new shape, but for the moment he had to be the person in charge. "Ginger, you lose. You know the penalty for spreading rumors about my death and trying to usurp before I even take the throne."
The woman bowed, and McKenzie realized his gamble had paid off. "Bombi?"
"You are right, your highness." She pointed at Ginger. In seconds the erstwhile Grand Duchess changed into an exact copy of McKenzie's old self. Ginger stared down at herself, then screamed. She coughed, surprised by her new, lower voice and then screamed again.
"Do I still have it, or what?" the old lady asked.
"You bitch," the new McKenzie choked out. "You horrid bitch. This is worse than death."
"Don't worry, my dear," Princess Maryanna said. "I'll have Count Kristoff here take you back to the states, show you around your new home and teach you about your life there. If you ever try to return to Slovarnia…."
"I understand, I know the rules of exile. Very well, you've won this time, your highness, but there will always be usurpers to follow me."
The weeklong pre-coronation party was finally over, Maryanna thought as she strode gracefully, in her newest gown, across the marble floor to the dining area. For someone who had spent the better part of her adult life writing and dreaming about being female, Maryanna was in hog heaven. She had been fitted and measured for days and now had a wardrobe that would do any Royal proud. She had learned, and quickly, to walk in heels, apply makeup and carry off all the other essentials of a feminine lifestyle. For everything else, she had people to do for her.
The table fell silent as Maryanna took her place at the head. She sat down, tapped a spoon on her crystal wine goblet and cleared her throat. She glanced down at the long row of courtiers, sycophants, hangers on and other riffraff that had taken up residence in the Palace.
"Ladies and gentleman, by now you all know me and know that I was raised as a typical American male. This is not a matter for your amusement, it is a statement of fact, and as such I wish to make myself perfectly clear. I am the Princess of this Palace. I have spoken with my parents now, several times on the telephone and I have their blessing in this as well.
"I intend to trample all over the traditions of this country like people walking on grapes. I think Slovarnia needs new traditions and rulers to implement them. I intend to do just that. Anyone who objects will be asked to leave the palace, permanently.
"My actions may seem boorish to some of you, but if I ever catch anyone laughing or tittering about it, according to tradition, they will be tossed out the door. Is that understood? You know my guards, and you know that they can do it and will."
"Well, of course you would expect that kind of behavior from one of her background," a young woman tittered to her neighbor.
"Oh, my dear," Maryanna said quickly. "I am so sorry, but I was speaking to you. Eric, be a love and throw that lady out on her rear. She can send for her things."
"But, I never. It's tradition…. I never meant any thing by it, your highness…." The lady in question was promptly escorted away from the table.
"Any questions? I hope not." She looked out at the gathered guests, and gave a little nod to Prince Rupert, her only official suitor, at the moment. He was a hunk; she had to admit, even if he refused to get rid of his overbite. She tapped the glass again. "Okay, let's eat."
Maryanna walked through her suite of rooms cradling her son, the Crown Prince Philip. "There, there, sweetheart, don't cry," she cooed, although the infant's face was still red from the effort. "It's…. Who the hell are you?" she demanded of a short, middle-aged man dressed in black garb.
The man, a noble by the look of him, stepped completely into the room and bowed. "Good morning, your majesty. I am Duke Edward, and an officially registered usurper for the Throne of Slovarnia. I do admit that the people love you, Maryanna, but it's my turn now."
"There, there," she cooed at the baby. "Did that horrid man scare you? It's okay, my little snuggle-bunny." Maryanna turned to the usurper, and shook her head. "Sorry, it's not a good time for me, colic you know. Can you come back in a couple of years?"
"No, I can't. You know the rules."
Maryanna sighed, and walked over to place her baby in a large crib. The instant she did so, a brilliant golden light surrounded the crib making the infant coo and giggle as he watched it sparkle.
"What on earth is that?" the man demanded.
Maryanna held a finger to her lips and walked away from the crib. "As you know, tradition is a very real and powerful force in Slovarnia. It is stronger than even the gypsy magic that created that glow."
Someone screamed. They turned back to the crib to see a girl, standing beside the crib with two blackened stumps on her arms instead of hands. Tears ran down the girl's cheeks as glanced at the Princess.
"There, there, dear. You had to expect that, didn't you?" Maryanna asked. The girl nodded. "Those will heal just fine in a day or so, but now you stay there and guard that crib against the next girl that tries."
"Yes, your majesty," the girl said quietly.
"You see, she was, according to tradition, trying to whisk the crown prince away to some old gypsy woman who would then, according to tradition, turn him into a girl and send him off to be raised by peasants. I was. My father was before me and his father before that. I say 'to Hell' with that. If I retire to Monaco, my child is going with me, which is why that precaution. I had the devil of a time tracking him down the last time some fool of a lady's maid made off with him."
"The last time?"
"The last time some idiot tried to usurp my throne. Don't I know you from somewhere, Duke Edward?"
"Although we haven't met in this country, your majesty, we have met. I was flamed often enough by you on the TG-TF list, and at the last bash we both attended, McKenzie. I write as Wally the Weasel."
"The critic?"
"Yes, the critic, which makes this so much more pleasurable. You and your clique flamed me for daring to share my opinions on the list about those miserable excuses of stories of yours. You had the entire list against me quite a few times, but now, now at last I will get the last word in."
"So, Wally the Weasel. I wouldn't have flamed you at all, if all you did was critique my stories, but no. You went out of your way to demolish them. There are writers on the list that can't even spell their own names, let alone write legible stories, but did you go after them? Oh, no. Let me get one comma out of place, and you said it ruined the whole piece. Oh, and by the way, Wally…." She started.
"By the way, what?" he asked after a moment.
"'In' is a preposition. It's bad grammar to end a sentence with a preposition." Maryanna's fist crunched into the Weasel's nose hard enough to send the man sliding on his backside across the polished marble floor until he crashed his head into a solid marble desk. "Ow, that had to hurt," she said as two of her guards rushed into the room.
"Are you all right, your majesty?" the taller of the guards asked.
"Of course, Eric dear," she said and ran a finger down the man's cheek. "That awful man wants to send me away to Monaco where I'd never see you again…."
"I'll take care of him," Eric said quickly with his face burning crimson.
Both guards picked Wally up and held him, feet dangling in the air, between them.
"There. That's much better. I feel so much better now. Eric, be a love and tell Duke Edward what the traditional punishment is for failed usurpers."
"Certainly my dear," he said in his booming baritone voice. Turning to Wally, Edward announced, "The traditional punishment for a failed usurper is to be flogged to death in the public square."
"Goodie, I can't wait. I want to see Wally the Weasel flogged to death."
"Guards, attend me. I am the registered Usurper," Wally choked out. "It's tradition!"
Maryanna smiled. "So sorry, chump, but I announced at the beginning that there were would be a lot of changes made. These guards aren't from Slovarnia and they don't follow all of the old traditions. I do agree with you that it is important for the people to love me, but more importantly, so do the guards, and boy. They love me too," she said with a sigh and a slight smile on her lips. "Where is Prince Rupert?"
"His Highness is either in the gardens or packing for Monaco, your majesty. He wasn't sure what to do."
"I'll find him and let him know," she said and retrieved the baby from his cradle. "See you later, Weasel boy. I think I will put a streaming video of the flogging online so the entire list can see you meet your fate. That will teach those critics something."
"Yeah! Death to all critics!" McKenzie thought as he sent his latest chapter off into cyberspace. He sat back in his chair with a slight smile on his face. Now that would be the life. Pity, he thought, glancing at the gray box on his kitchen table. Why couldn't that be the royal seal after all? Even if it were just for a moment, it would be great to have all the Wallys on the list tremble a bit.
Igor was sitting with his back to Mac. It was evident the dog was pouting.
"I know. I'll try to write in a bigger part for you next time, boy. I promise. Besides, it felt really good to kill off that lousy critic."
Igor stared at me pityingly.
"Don't give me that. All writers do it. Agatha Christe once brought in a new character just twenty-five pages from the end of a book, just to tie up some loose ends."
The dog kept staring.
"I can't stay and argue this with you Igor. I've got to get to work."
Exaggeratedly ignoring the dog, McKenzie stood, but then dropped back into his chair.
"Whoa! Stop spinning world." After resting a moment, he got up more slowly. This time he made it upright without the dizziness.
as told to
Andy Hollis
and
Jaye Michael
Chapter Ten -- Fangs for the Memories
Didn't your mother ever tell you it was bad manners to play with your food?" Phil Baso was scared, really scared-and that made him bluster.
The woman before him was clearly crazy, but she was amazingly strong and faster than anyone he'd ever seen before-almost supernaturally so. With promises of sexual gratification beyond his wildest dreams, she had led him to this squalid room, in this third-rate flophouse, in a part of town where his body might not be found for days and then might just be tossed out with the trash.
"Silence worm or I shall consume your essence even sooner. Do you not wish to know what I have in store for you?"
"About now I'm wishing for the keys to these handcuffs and to have never met you, you crazy bitch. For the umpteenth time, release me now and I'll walk out of this room and forget I ever met you."
He felt like the open-handed slap nearly tore his head off. Such a feminine act, such pain, it should not be possible. When his head stopped spinning, Phil had to wonder if the crazy lady's crazy story wasn't true.
It was only about fifteen years ago, a fleetingly short time when you are immortal. I had been working as a night watchman in a warehouse by the dock. All sorts of strange things happened there, especially on the night shift.
There were noises from the creaking building as it expanded and contracted with the changes in temperature. There were pipes that would bang whenever there was a demand from the furnace or air conditioners. There were faint scrabbling sounds that I hoped were from mice rather than rats or cockroaches.
And then there were the echoes. With its high ceilings, even when the warehouse was full, which is was better than half the time; it was basically a huge empty space. Every sound was revisited in gradually decreasing harmonics as it echoed from wall to wall and back.
To add to that, there was the lighting. Some companies would keep the full lighting on 24/7. Of course those were usually the warehouses that were in use continuously around the clock unlike the one where I worked. I guess that given the choice or providing better lighting for the mice, insects and watch people they decided to save the pennies and use minimal emergency lighting and make us provide our own flashlights for our rounds. Most of us would keep a spare set of batteries or two and change them during breaks, just to be able to see.
Even once you'd been there a while and learned to recognize the noises and not get spooked by the shadows, there was still the problem of theft. I think I remember reading somewhere that some experts had once estimated that better than 20% of all goods coming through any American port are contraband or diverted into illegal channels. Warehouses, especially ones that closed down for a full shift or two like the one where I worked, were prime targets. All of this added up to making the life of a night watchman more exciting than most of us wanted.
The night in question, the shift was just half over when I started hearing the flapping sounds. I assumed that it was a bird that had snuck in during the day when the loading dock doors were often wide open.
Normally, I wouldn't worry about a bird. There was nothing I could do that would get it out any sooner than waiting for morning and letting it get hungry enough to fly out of the building in order to forage. The problem was, this bird didn't sound right. There was too much flapping. Most birds sleep during the night hours, especially if there was too little light to navigate safely. Even if you disturb them with your flashlight, they usually find the nearest perch outside the glare of the light and settle back down again. This flapping only stopped for brief moments and then started again. Additionally, it seemed to start in one area of the warehouse and be slowly moving closer to me, as if it were searching for something.
The training for a night watchman is pretty skimpy. They tell you to call the police if there's someone in or around the building that shouldn't be there, they tell you to call building maintenance if there is a problem with the physical plant and they tell you to make regular rounds to check for one of the two types of problems mentioned above. If something outside the two realms described above occurs, you're on your own.
I took the course of least resistance. I ignored the noises and went about my business making my duly appointed rounds. I don't know who was more surprised, the bird or me, when it struck me in the face and somehow scratched my neck. I spent the rest of my rounds trying to stop the bleeding. For some reason, it just wouldn't coagulate.
Normally, I would not have remembered the event, but it was indelibly etched in my mind because it was coupled with my firing. I swear, the only unusual sound I heard that night was the bird, but somehow, someone managed to haul a three by three by seven-foot crate out of the warehouse without my seeing it. The company assumed I had stolen it, or had at least been a knowing participant in its theft. What was worse, I couldn't explain why the electronic key boxes showed that I had failed to complete my rounds over a two hour period.
That's when they started, about a week after I got fired. Night after night, it was always the same dream-only it kept changing, just a bit. If I compared from one night to the next I couldn't tell the difference but, if I compared two versions of the dream that were several days apart, there was a change. Unlike my usual dreams, I remembered these dreams; I remembered them as clearly as if they were real.
At first, I welcomed the dream. I was out of work, no girlfriend and no money for entertainment. This took the place of two out of the three and I wasn't in any rush to go find a job when I still had some money in savings.
They all started a minute before midnight. I'd be in bed and I'd come awake in a cold sweat with the alarm clock ringing. I'd reach over to turn it off and there she'd be, standing by the door to the bedroom. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, ever imagined. She would pose for a moment unclothed-never naked, unclothed-and then glide to me with that enigmatic smile on her face.
I would reach my hand out to hold her, to touch her, to make myself believe she was there, but as she approached I found myself putting my hands down and turning my head away. I would try to turn back, to raise my hand, but in the dream, I couldn't. I had no will of my own. I just lay there waiting for her, barely breathing for fear she would leave.
Slowly, seductively, the covers would slide back off my body. I was naked too and fully aroused. The first I would feel of her was her hair-long, silky, blonde hair-as it danced over my face and chest. Each contact was like an erotic adventure. Within moments, I was begging for more, yet secretly afraid that I would die from the ecstasy of the next of those brief touches.
Next, I would feel the bed give as she crawled onto it beside me, still killing me with each gossamer tingle. It seemed to go on forever as she slowly positioned herself on top of me, her breasts against my chest, her legs straddling my waist, her head in the crook of my neck.
I could feel her kissing my neck, light butterfly-like touches. The ecstasy would grow and grow until I would explode and die. When I would wake again, I would be in bed. The covers would be on the floor and the clock would read one minute past midnight. That first night, I lay there for hours reliving the dream, trying to indelibly etch every aspect of it and that woman into my memory. That was how I realized it was changing.
I slept late that first morning, almost until dusk, but I expected that. I don't think I actually fell asleep again until just before sunrise.
When I finally crawled out of bed, the dream still crystal clear in my memory, I showered and shaved, the usual waking rituals. Surprisingly, I wasn't hungry so I passed on that. Instead, I flipped on the TV and submerged myself in mindless escapist entertainment, or at least I tried to submerge myself. It didn't work.
The dream kept intruding as I compared each actress to the woman in my dream and finding that the actresses kept coming up short. Oh, one might have hair that was close to my dream woman's and another might have a smile that was close, but not quite as bright. Yet, not one single one was her equal. Fool that I was, I was looking forward to the night, hoping I might dream of her once again. I was so anxious to meet her again, I remember going to sleep early, before the evening news, to give me time to ready myself for her arrival.
And like clockwork, at eleven fifty nine that night she appeared again. Standing in the doorway, gliding toward me, the touch of her hair, her body, her kiss …
Again, I slept late and again I wasn't hungry. Again, the television was unable to offer me her equal and again I went to bed early.
That third night she again appeared just before the witching hour and again we danced our dance of love.
The patterns were now set. I would live for her touch in my dreams, sleep late, skip eating, be bored with television and go to bed early in order to be ready for her when she next appeared.
It wasn't until two weeks later that I realized I hadn't eaten since the dreams started. I probably wouldn't have noticed even then, except that the building superintendent came pounding on the door to find out why the place smelled so bad. I hadn't taken out the garbage. Most of the perishables in the refrigerator were spoiled too.
I apologized with a twenty-dollar bill and lied, saying I had been out of town. Then I emptied the refrigerator into the garbage and dragged it down to the dumpster. I promised the Super I would walk down to the corner and get some food from the bodega there, but when I got there, nothing appealed to me, not even the fried lantanas and my friends had teased me often about how I was addicted to the greasy things. Instead, I went home and repeated my usual routine.
That night I realized that her hair was a shoulder length brunette and her breasts seemed smaller. I remember trying to change my dream, to bring back the blonde beauty I had first seen and with whom I had fallen in love, but it didn't work.
A week later, the routine was shattered when I was wakened by a friend from work at about three in the afternoon who had heard of a watchman vacancy at a nearby warehouse. It took an unimaginable amount of effort to move my hand the short distance to the telephone beside my alarm clock on my nightstand and I could barely croak out the answers to his solicitous questions. Rather than hang up the phone afterward, I just dropped it to the floor. I could hear rain beating on the curtained windows and the noise was just intrusive enough that I couldn't go right back to sleep.
Struggling to my feet, I dragged myself to the bedroom door, planning to visit the bathroom and then return to my warm comfortable bed. Pulling the door open, I was nearly blinded by the light pouring through the living room windows. It was so painfully bright that I actually stepped back and closed the door.
Now I was wide awake and feeling rather stupid as I realized that I actually felt afraid of the light. Using one arm to shield my eyes, I again opened the door, although much more slowly this time, and forced myself to stagger off to the bathroom. It was ridiculous, but I couldn't bring myself to let the light actually touch me, so I was careful to skirt around the patches that glowed like some hot desert sun on the living room floor.
The bathroom was light enough that I didn't bother to flick the light switch. Too tired to try aiming, I sat and relieved myself. As I washed my hands, I glanced in the mirror and realized that I badly needed a haircut and that I needed to start eating again. I was wasting away.
I decided then and there that I needed to get dressed and go shopping for some food. I was going to do it immediately after showering, but when I came out of the bathroom, still drying my longer hair, the sun was so bright that I decided to wait until the evening. Besides, it was still pouring rain.
My clothes didn't feel right. There was nothing I could put into words; they were just a bit too loose one place, a bit to tight somewhere else. The legs on my only pair of clean jeans needed to be rolled up; the size was right so it must have been a manufacturer's defect.
I lost track of time waiting for sunset and so it wasn't until ten that I finally headed out. My first stop was the corner bodega, but again, I just couldn't find any food I wanted to buy so I went two blocks down and stopped at the Arby's ®-and still couldn't bring myself to eat anything.
Giving up on food, I started back home, but instead stopped at Louie's. It's a tiny little bar in the basement below the bodega. Cheap beer and quiet enough to think.
Grabbing my usual seat at the bar, just below the television, I ordered a beer and tried to figure out what was happening. It didn't take long to realize that I had no clue and I had just moved on to my next concern of trying to figure out who I could see who could help me figure out what was going on, when my beer came.
I had dropped a ten spot on the bar in anticipation. It's an old trick. You make a promise not to take more money out and once whatever is on the bar is gone, it's time to go. Some people keep the swizzle sticks from their mixed drinks; I drop a bill on the counter. The problem was, Louie left my beer, but didn't take the money and make change.
"Hey Louie, when did you start giving it away?"
"I didn't. The guy at the end of the bar is paying." Louie jerked his head in the direction of a tall, dark haired man about my age, sitting at the far end of the bar. Never being one to look a gift beer in the mouth, I gave the guy a brief toast and returned to my thoughts.
A moment later, he was sitting at the stood next to me. I was about to tell him to get lost, I wasn't into guys, when suddenly the world blurred and I was back in my apartment, lying in my bed. The dream was starting again.
It continued like that for what seemed like forever. Each night, just before midnight, I would find myself in my bedroom and the dream would start. It didn't matter where I was; the dream found me and brought me back to the apartment. Once I even went to a friend's house in Jersey to try to get away. It didn't work. Instead, I got a call from the friend the next morning asking where I had gone.
I tried locking myself out of my bedroom. I tried handcuffing myself to the radiator in the living room. I tried staying at Louie's all night on several different occasions. Nothing worked, although I seemed to be offered drinks more and more often. I felt like I was Bill Murray in that movie, "Groundhog Day."
And if that wasn't bad enough, my visitor kept changing. My vision, once the most voluptuous, most beautiful creature imaginable, slowly became plainer and plainer, to the point where one night I realized that she wasn't a woman any more. She was a really effeminate man.
But it didn't stop there. If I focused every week or two I would realize that she-I mean he-was slowly becoming a remarkably handsome man.
Almost as strange, was the fact that I was not upset by the idea of having a man kissing me each night. I had no idea why, but I had to admit that it was just as enjoyable having a man kiss me now as it had been having a woman doing it before. I began to think about the guys that kept offering me drinks at Louie's, how this one had a pretty smile and how that one had a cute butt. I found myself enjoying it when one leaned close to touch me, so much so that I began leaning into them so they would have to touch me. I even began wanting them to bring me to a private place touch me other places besides my hand or my hair. Hell, I wanted them to take me to bed and have their way with me.
As I noted earlier, no matter what I did, I just couldn't break away from the dream or break the pattern of the dream. It was always the same dream, only my visitor changed, ever so slowly. I eventually I had given up and just waited in my bed, waited for it to happen so I could go on with my life.
Finally, it happened. My visitor was an absolute Adonis with long blonde hair and a physique that would be the envy of a Greek god. I couldn't help myself as I almost drooled in anticipation of his touch, his kiss. He appeared out of nowhere, standing by the door, smiling at me. I waited patiently as he slowly approached me, threw off the covers and sat beside me. But this time something happened. Instead of running his hair over my chest before mounting me, he smiled and spoke to me.
"You have turned out well my child."
Those words were like a shock to the system. It was like I had been hypnotized and, after months in a trance, had suddenly recovered my wits. I took one look at him, another look at myself, and screamed.
He nonchalantly waved a hand and I was calm again, although this time I was cognizant of the tremendous changes that had occurred to my body and, I belatedly realized, my brain. I knew what I was and my new role in life, or rather death.
"Succubae and incubi, we're one and the same. It's only a matter of the form we happen to be in. I'm still not quite as good as my creator, thus the handcuffs, but after our first kiss, you shall be mine-if you survive that is. That's why there are so few of us, you know. Most humans seem to die before the process is completed, but I have high hopes for you, that you will be my first child. We shall see."
I lay there on that cheap motel room bed, handcuffs chaffing, as I glared up at the beautiful but mad woman before me telling me her bizarre and nightmarish tale. She sat beside me on the bed. Slowly she leaned forward to kiss me.
"Damn, that one was fun. Let's see if that one gives someone a chubby. Time to check the mail and go to bed. Mac quickly scanned the files in his inbox.
"Garbage.
"Garbage.
"Story. We'll set that one aside to read later when I have time.
"Garbage.
"Garbage.
"Only two stinking responses? Damn that stinks. So what do they say?
"Loved 'Faster than a Speeding Tall Building.' Keep writing. Please."
"Good. Good." MacKenzie beamed with pleasure.
"In 'Vector/Victoria' you incorrectly defined the word 'vector.' It's actually, 'a quantity possessing both magnitude and direction.' You would have been better off calling it a 'medium,' but then you would have to change the name of the story to something like 'Medium Matilda,' and that might give people the wrong impression." It was from Wally the Weasel. Damn.
McKenzie Rigby cursed and turned off his computer and slumped into his tattled couch. "Ungrateful… Why the hell do I bother Igor? I'm not asking for a lot, am I? Just an occasional 'Thank you'."
Igor just rolled his eyes and remained as he was, curled into a comfortable ball.
"What?" McKenzie asked, still angry. Am I being unreasonable?"
McKenzie waited impatiently for a response, but Igor wisely said nothing.
"Oh, I know. You think I should write just for the sake or writing? Right?
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Eleven -- My Auntie's Panties
Catherine Rigby walked her son, McKenzie up to the front porch. "Now behave yourself, for God's sake," she told the eleven year old boy before she rang the doorbell.
"I will," McKenzie answered, sullen. "I always do." The boy stood on the porch, holding onto his suitcase for dear life.
Every summer, for two weeks, he always had a visit with his aunt, Prissy. Pricilla was okay, for a grown up, but she didn't have kids of her own and never knew what to do to make things fun.
"There he is," Aunt Prissy said from the doorway. "Hi, Mac, still way too pretty to be a boy."
"Everyone says that," Catherine added with a laugh. "I have to run, Prissy, but I will call tonight. Watch him, though. He's going through another one of his phases, you know, everything has to be completely logical."
She laughed and headed down the walkway as McKenzie watched her go.
McKenzie carted his suitcase inside the cool, dark hallway and took in the scents of freshly baked cookies. He flipped his long, brunette hair off his eyes and gave Aunt Prissy a big smile. "Just in time for cookies?"
"You got that right, Sweetheart. Now, take your things to your room and hurry back before they cool. You do remember what happens to little boys that are bad, don't you?"
"I'm eleven, Aunt Prissy, and not so little anymore."
The lady looked down at the boy and laughed. "Put your things away and I'll tell you."
McKenzie combed his hair before hurrying downstairs. He trotted into the kitchen for the cookies only to be met by a small, gray and black bundle of muscle and energy that barked. The dog all but knocked the boy over as it tried to lick his face.
"That's Igor," Aunt Prissy said. "I got him for you-and to keep me company."
The boy managed to get up from under the beast. He sat down at the table and took a couple of the cookies. His Aunt poured a tall glass of milk for him and then sat down herself.
"As I was saying, this year I have some rules that you need to remember. I know there aren't that many kids in this neighborhood, except the new boy that moved in next door, but he's older than you are. But, I don't want you on the phone to your friends all hours of the day and night, nor do I want you on the computer all that much. You can play outside as much as you like, just remember to tell me if you leave the neighborhood."
"Sure, Aunt Prissy. I will."
"If you don't, you will regret it. I'll make you wear skirts or lacey dresses and take you shopping with me so everyone can see you."
"That's a punishment?" McKenzie asked with a slight frown on his face.
"Yes, for you."
The boy laughed, "There is girl in my class, Lauren? She wears skirts and dresses all the time. She's being punished?"
Aunt Prissy sighed. "No, it's not a punishment for a girl. Girls are supposed to wear skirts. Boy's don't."
"Yeah, but girls wear pants, too," McKenzie added. "Sandra wears jeans with a zipper in them and everything. I've got a lot of sweats and shorts that don't have any opening at all. So why would it be a punishment for me to wear a skirt?"
"Girls can wear whatever they feel like wearing, boy's can't. Have you ever asked your mother for a dress?"
"No, I haven't thought it about before," McKenzie lied. "Mom buys my clothes for me and she doesn't ask me what I want. She just gets it. What's wrong with wearing a skirt? You're wearing one. You know, that looks a lot cooler in this heat than my shorts do."
"There's nothing wrong with me or any girl wearing a skirt. It's okay for girls to wear boy's clothes, but it's not okay for boys to wear girls clothes."
"Why not?" the boy asked with a deliberately straight face.
"Because no boy wants to look like a girl," Aunt Prissy said quickly.
"But girls want to look like boys, right? So you mean that it's a lot better being a boy than a girl." McKenzie sat back and waited for the reaction.
"Yes-I mean no," she half yelled, turning pale. "It's different. I mean it's different being a boy or a girl but it's not any better. Do you want to dress up as a girl?"
McKenzie shrugged. "I don't know. I've never done it before," he lied again. "You want me to try on a skirt to see if it fits?"
"What are you talking about," Aunt Prissy demanded.
"You said if I misbehaved or broke the rules you would make me dress up in skirts or lacey dresses, so do you want me to try one on?"
"Aren't you scared that someone would see you?"
"Why should I be?" McKenzie asked. "You told Mom that I was too pretty to be a boy, so if anyone saw me wouldn't they think I was a girl anyway?"
Aunt Prissy held her head in her hands. "Your mother told me about that logic thing, but I didn't listen.
It's…." She stared at the boy for a moment, and smiled. "You don't mean a word of that, do you? No, not really. You think you can talk me out of this with your word games. Not a chance, mister. I don't have any clothes for you to wear now, but I'm taking you shopping for something pretty, right now. Let's see how you feel when it's for real."
"I don't like ponytails," McKenzie whined as Aunt Prissy pulled his hair back and tied it up. She did leave the boy's bangs hanging down over his forehead. "You know, it's okay," he said glancing out the car window at the mall. "I don't really need new clothes."
"Thought so," she said, opening the door for the boy to slide out. "That was just talk. You don't want to wear a skirt anymore than any other boy, do you?"
"I don't care about skirts or dresses," he said, quickly enough to make his aunt smile. "I was just worried about all the money you have to spend."
"Right, I get it. Come on, Missy. This should be fun."
McKenzie let himself smile as he walked beside his aunt into the mall. If she felt better about forcing him to dress, he could play that part, too.
In spite of his protests about not needing new clothes, Aunt Prissy took him through the Gap for Kids, Fashion Bug and Penny's in a matter of minutes. After being measured and told by countless salesladies how pretty he looked, McKenzie walked out into the mall wearing a short pink top, and pleated white skirt, and opened toed sandals. He now had two sundresses, another skirt and three complete sets of underwear including cotton panties and training bras. Aunt Prissy told him the bras were just in case he did something really awful, but McKenzie only shrugged, and promised her he wouldn't do anything that bad. Besides, he had a couple of pair in his suitcase already, but he wasn't going to tell her that.
Aunt Prissy watched how comfortably McKenzie walked in his new skirt, and noticed that fact that he developed a rather feminine swing to his walk. She wondered, for a moment if the boy had ever dressed in female attire before, but decided against it, in spite of the fact that he smoothed his skirt before sitting down.
Kids crowded the ice cream shop, most of them with their mothers. McKenzie smiled as several boys gave him more than casual glances. One of them, a real cute boy of about thirteen, walked up to the table.
"Hi, Ms. Rigby," he said quickly.
"Hi, Bradley," she answered. "McKenzie, this is my neighbor, Brad. Brad Jackson, this is my-niece, she said at length. McKenzie will be staying with me for a couple of weeks-more if it works out."
"Hi," Brad took McKenzie's hand, and gave it a quick shake. "Would you like to dance?"
Both Aunt Prissy and McKenzie looked at the boy with mixed emotions. McKenzie nodded and looked down. "I'd love to Brad," he said then looked up at his aunt. She nodded, and Brad led the new girl onto the dance floor.
How McKenzie could dance with that boy and not show any sign of embarrassment or even hesitation at pressing his cheek against Brad's was beyond Aunt Prissy. She remember being forced into skirts herself as a girl, and being forced to dance with boys, at least until she reached college age. And yet here was her nephew, a much prettier, and certainly more feminine, girl than she had ever been-yet he was a boy. Perhaps this wasn't the right punishment after all, but now what could she do? If she told Brad that McKenzie was really a boy…. Bradley probably wouldn't believe it for a second. Looking at the girl now, she didn't believe it.
After a few dances, Bradley led McKenzie back to the table. Both kids looked as if they were riding cloud nine for all they were worth.
"I trust you had a good time?"
"Yes, Aunt Prissy," McKenzie said, beaming. "Can I walk home with Brad? He knows the way."
"I'm sure he does, and no, you may not. We have a lot more to do this afternoon, young lady. Brad, we will see you later," she said, dismissing the boy with a nod. Brad clenched his teeth, and pressed his lips together, but nodded himself and walked off.
"He is so cute, don't you think?" McKenzie asked his aunt.
"Yes, but I had no idea you were gay?"
McKenzie's smile didn't falter as he said. "I don't know. I might be. I've never been a girl before and I wanted to try it out. That's the logical way to do this."
Aunt Prissy relaxed. "I suppose it is. If Bradley asks you out again, and I think he will, will you go?"
"Yes, I need all the information I can get."
"Aunt Prissy, Aunt Prissy!" McKenzie called as he ran up the front steps. He banged his way into the house. Today he wore boy's shorts and a white T-shirt, but his ponytail did bounce on his back.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Brad asked me to the Fourth of July Dance. Can I go? Please? Can I get something to wear?"
"That's getting serious, at least for around here," Aunt Prissy commented. "What happens if Brad finds out you're a boy?"
McKenzie shrugged. "He said he didn't care when I told him," she said with a pause, "Just before he kissed me."
"What? You didn't. He didn't. Did he?"
He nodded, "Just a peck on the cheek, but I don't think he believed me. He said he didn't care if I came from Jupiter, I was the prettiest girl he had ever seen."
"You are, that, but…. Okay, if Bradley knows then it's okay with me. Come on, we have some major shopping to do."
Actually, McKenzie thought as he climbed into the front seat of the car, he didn't tell Bradley the whole truth-or his aunt, either. Bradley had asked him to the dance, then kissed him full on the lips.
McKenzie blushed and looked down, demurely. "Oh, Brad, that was so nice. You know I have to ask my Aunt, though. She might not want me to go with you."
"You think so?" he asked.
"I don't know, the last time a guy asked me out she took him aside and told him I was really a boy…."
Bradley threw his head back and laughed. "You're kidding. Think anyone would believe that?"
"He did, Jon, that is. Would you still take me if I was a boy?"
Bradley laughed again. "I don't care if you're from Jupiter, you're the prettiest girl I've ever met and I want to take you to the dance."
McKenzie sat back in the car seat and hugged himself, secure in the knowledge that if Aunt Prissy did try to spoil things with Brad he would be prepared.
By the time they finished at the mall, McKenzie owned a lovely, pale green gown, accessorized with his first purse, white, and his first pair of heels. The heels were maybe two inches, but he managed to get his balance right away. He also wore two bright green emerald studs that pierced his ears. The trip to the hairdresser's salon would wait until just before the dance.
"This has been the best summer ever. Thanks, Aunt Prissy, thanks for everything." McKenzie gushed on the ride home.
"It's okay, dear. I'm just glad that you're happy."
McKenzie hurried upstairs to his room, unlocked his suitcase, and dug into the deepest corners to pull out a small, weathered book. He opened the book to the appropriate page, and read through the instructions again. Two more kisses from Bradley would be all that was needed, if the spell was to work. It had to work, he thought and packed the book away to study himself in the mirror. How could Brad resist kissing him again, who knows, maybe even tonight?
"You want to come over to my place?" Brad asked as McKenzie locked fingers with him.
"Okay," he said. "There isn't that much to do at my aunt's."
The Jackson's had a large, dark brick house that looked like money, McKenzie thought as they walked up the front steps. Brad opened the door.
"Mom? Hi, it's me. I've got McKenzie with me, the girl from next door?"
"That's nice. Hi, McKenzie," she called from the kitchen.
"Hi, Mrs. Jackson," McKenzie called back. He stared at a book, with a gray, weathered cover on the coffee table. A second later he picked it up, and flipped through the same book of spells he had hidden in his suitcase.
"Oh, that," Brad said, quickly. "Mom got that for me before we moved here. Kind of hokey, I know, but it's fun to read."
"You ever try any of the spells?"
"No, most of them you can't get all the ingredients, you know?"
"I guess," he said and put the book down. "Why don't you show me around the house. It's really nice."
"Thanks, Mom's been working her tail off on it. I help, but she usually wants to do it all herself. Thinks I don't have any taste."
"Well, if you pick out your clothes, you do," McKenzie added quickly. He let Brad take his hand as they walked through the house.
Later, standing on the front porch of Aunt Prissy's house, Brad gave McKenzie a much longer kiss, before saying "good night." McKenzie felt his whole body respond and tingle at the kiss. The flush on Brad's face showed that he felt the same way.
After a day of primping at the beauty parlor, trying on a hundred shades of make-up, lipstick and nail polish, McKenzie finally felt ready to meet Brad on the evening of the dance.
Brad, dressed in a dark gray suit, met McKenzie at Aunt Prissy's front door.
Aunt Prissy took a picture of the pair holding hands. "You both look fabulous. I know you will have a great time tonight. Brad, McKenzie did tell you that he was a boy, right?"
Brad nodded. "Yeah-he mentioned something about that. I don't care what he or she is, she's still the prettiest girl I've ever seen."
"Go on then, but be back early, you are both still too young to go out on a real date. Do you want to walk, or can I give you a lift?"
They decided to walk to the community center to take advantage of the still cool summer evening. Hand in hand the two kids walked, slowly down the street until they were out of sight of both houses. Brad looked down into McKenzie's eyes, then bent over to give the younger boy a third kiss. McKenzie's mouth opened and their tongues met.
It is better being a girl, McKenzie thought as his heart raced. The world spun around and the change completed. McKenzie didn't have to check to realize the she was now completely female from head to toe. At least Brad would never know…. Brad?
She opened her eyes to find herself kissing another girl.
"Brad?" she asked.
"It worked," Brad replied looking down at his new gown, and they way his chest now poked out. "I'm a girl."
"But, I don't understand. What happened?"
"The spell in my book," Brad said with a grin. She opened her purse and pulled out a small compact to check her make-up. "Three kisses from a boy would do it, right McKenzie?"
"You knew? You knew all along I was a boy?"
"There aren't that many kids around. Your aunt told me a few times that her 'nephew' was coming for a visit, and when I saw the two of you at the mall that first time I wasn't sure. You were good, I'll say that for sure, girl friend, but when we danced I read you as a boy, for real."
"But you were like-such a hunk. You wanted to be a girl?"
"Since I was four I've wanted to be a girl. Mom used to let me dress up, when I was little, but not since. She thought I grew out of it. But look at you, you were so lucky, McKenzie. You were completely feminine as a boy. I bet you had a hard time trying to pass as a boy."
"I'll say. I gave up trying years ago. Mom never noticed. I was a boy, and that was final."
"But once you got into a skirt, that was it. You were a girl. But me, you know the way I looked. If I wore a dress…."
"You would stick out for ten miles. You're pretty as a girl, though."
"Thanks, girl friend, and you will be ravishing when you get older. Come on, I'm Michelle now. Let's go to the dance and find a couple of guys."
As they approached the community center, the two girls, still hand in hand, turned a lot of heads as they passed.
"There," McKenzie told Igor as he sent the next chapter out, "that was a good one."
What?" he asked as the dog barked. Sad eyes stared remorselessly at him.
"You were in it. I know it wasn't a big part, but you aren't a big dog." He laughed, but Igor didn't join in.
"Well, what do you know," he asked rhetorically while reading the newest batch of letters. "Wally the Weasel didn't like 'The Princess Journals', poor baby. That's odd; no one else did either. Bunch of idiots. Don't know quality when the read it. No one got the Oz jokes-bunch of losers, well I know they will like this one."
Annoyed, he sat back to wait for the next batch of replies not hearing Igor's low angry growl.
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Twelve -- Blonde Like Me
What do you do when a blonde throws a pin at you?”
I was so bored I didn’t even bother answering. Jack was my best friend and fellow member of what Outrageous Ads called it’s brain trust, but he had been telling blonde jokes for the last fifteen minutes and I was, to say the least, bored. The only surprises so far had been that there were so many and that he had remembered them. Usually, Friday night at a bar like Bloody Bob’s with a friend is a much more uplifting experience.
“Run like hell. She’s got a grenade in her mouth.” Even his guffaws were beginning to wear thin.
“Excuse me,” I interrupted, anything to break the cycle of bad joke after bad joke. “I’m going to ask that girl over there to dance.”
“You mean the pretty one? Over there?”
“Yeah.” I turned my back before I could be asked any more questions or–perish the thought–be told any more blonde jokes. I worked out, albeit not regularly, and at six foot and a hundred and sixty-five pounds, my $500 suit draped nicely over my body and my wavy black hair fell an inch or two below my collar. I usually had no difficulties finding a good-looking woman to join me for an evening of fun and frolic.
“Excuse me.”
She came up to my eyes, which put her at about five-foot six-inches tall in her three inch heels, with light brown hair and green eyes. I wasn’t in love–yet–but I definitely wanted to get to know this girl better.
“Yeah?”
“Would you like to dance?”
“Aren’t you from that table over there? The one telling all those blonde jokes?”
“Well, my friend Jack is the one telling them,” I agreed. “It his bald head. I think he’s got hair envy. I can’t get him to shut up. In fact, I was hoping you would dance with me and save me from…”
“No thank you. Your friend is being really demeaning, but you’re behavior is worse. By not telling him how bad what he’s doing is, you’re condoning and even encouraging it.”
“But…”
Ignoring me, she turned her back on me and returned to the conversation I must have interrupted with her friends. I slunk back to our table just in time for another blonde joke.
“How do you keep a blonde occupied for hours? Give her a piece of paper with the words “Turn Over” on both sides.”
“Damn it Jack, will you shut up already?” I grumped.
“What’s the problem dude?” Jack was actually a graduate of Princeton with an MBA, but when he wasn’t telling blonde jokes he was practicing speaking like a surfer to help him prepare for an upcoming ad campaign.
“Nothing. I just lost a chance to meet a really good looking girl because she was turned off by those damned blonde jokes of yours.”
“Whoa. Bleed off. That sucks.”
“What?”
“Bleed off. You’re getting blamed because you’re near me. That’s prejudice man and it really sucks.”
I was shocked. He was right–sort of. Where I had planned on telling him that he was prejudiced and it was hurting my chances for a love life, I backed off. Sure, he was telling some really crappy jokes, but was that reason for that girl to assume anything about me? I looked back at the girl I had asked to dance and suddenly she didn’t look quite as interesting any more. Instead, I bought us both another beer and Jack moved on to a different class of jokes.
“Why won’t sharks eat lawyers?”
I groaned. This was a yuppie bar and easily a third of the people in it were probably lawyers. The damn fool was going to get us killed yet.
“Professional courtesy.”
Forgoing the drinks that had not yet arrived, I tossed some money on the table for a tip and dragged him outside. It was time to call it a night.
“Gentlemen,” Jonas Hastings glared around the boardroom table, “we are going to loose our shot at this account if someone cannot come up with something BIG. We need ideas and we need them soon. Hank, take your wiz kids,” he pointed to Jack and me, “back to your office and don’t come out again until you have at least one blockbuster idea.”
It was a morose group that sat around Hank Pensivo’s office. Hank was stretched out on the black leather couch with a newspaper over his head while Jack sprawled out on one of the matching chairs, filling it with his girth. I was pacing as usual, burning off energy faster than I could take it in. Coffee cups, soda bottles and empty pizza boxes covered the coffee table between us.
“Come on guys,” Hank beseeched us. “This shouldn’t be this hard. It’s a goddamned women’s hair coloring account. How difficult can this be?”
“I know a ‘narly’ blonde joke about a new slogan for hair dye? ‘Buy a double batch and get a snatch to match.’ Who ever heard of a company making hair products only for blondes anyway?” Jack whined for the umpteenth time.
“The company comes from Sweden,” Hank sighed and reminded him yet again. “They consider themselves ‘experts’ in all things blonde.”
“Can the damn blonde jokes Jack.” He may have been right about that girl’s attitude being prejudiced, but I was still a bit burned by losing my chance with her because of his jokes. “We’ve been at this since Friday afternoon,” I added, turning to Hank, “and it’s now Saturday evening and none of us have come up with any new ideas since about 4 AM,” I croaked. “We’re stale. We need to take a break.”
“You heard Jonas,” Hank responded. “This account could be more than thirty percent of the gross income for this firm. We may not need to stay in this room for the remainder of our lives–or until we give him his winning slogan, which ever comes first–but we do need one and soon. Dig deep. One of you must have something.”
“Nope.”
“Sorry Hank.”
“Okay,” Hank sighed in resignation. “Let’s stretch and get the kinks out; then get back to it in a few hours.”
“Hey! There’s that girl again. You wanna ask her to join us and see if she can help inspire us? Hell, you can even pay them the standard focus group participation fee.” Hank didn’t disagree so he continued, “and I promise, no blonde jokes.” We were back at Bloody Bob’s, Hank too this time. We had promised to leave in just two hours to return to the office and hammer out a campaign slogan, but he wanted to make sure we didn’t go AWOL. I turned questioningly to Hank.
Hank just shrugged and went back to staring at his Vodka martini. He was turning out to be a morose drunk and this was only his first drink.
I didn’t wait for him to reconsider.
“Excuse me miss.” I tapped her on the shoulder. “I was wondering if you and your friends could help us.”
She turned with a bright smile on her face, but that quickly soured when she saw me. “Oh, it’s you again. Couldn’t you take the hint last night?”
“Actually, I did take the hint if you’ll recall–much to your loss–but now I’m asking you AND your two friends here to assist us with a work-related problem.” I paused to see if I had at least gotten the interest of one of her friends.
“We,” I made a sweeping gesture to include Hank and Jack before offering my business card, “work at Outrageous Ads and we’re having a problem coming up with a slogan for a product line. If you would join us for a short while maybe you could help us?”
“Oh come on Caroline,” the taller brunette chimed in. “It sounds like fun.”
“Sure,” the other brunette added. “Cindy’s right. Why not?”
“Because we have plans and are going to leave in about a half an hour,” Caroline responded, but I knew it was a weak come back. I was gaining.
“I’m empowered to offer a focus group participation fee of twenty-five dollars each?”
“Oh, why not,” Caroline strode over to our table and sat down, leaving her friends, and me, to scurry along behind. “But if I hear just one of those demeaning blonde jokes we’re gone.”
“I’ll personally hold Jack so you can pull his black hair out at the roots if he tries even one single blonde joke. How’s that sound?”
Jack was endearingly sheepish as he promised. Hank looked up at Caroline’s arrival and tossed me a quizzical look. He must have missed much of the earlier conversation.
“I’m Caroline,” the blonde introduced herself before pointing to each of her friends, “and this is Cindy and Maggie. Now what kind of work project are we supposed to be helping you with?”
Hank must have caught on as he responded before I could. “We work for Outrageous Ads over in the Glover Building, across the street. We have a potential client–you’ll pardon me if I don’t give you the client’s name–who wants to introduce a series of beauty products into this country. The catch is, they are specially produced only for blondes.”
“Oh well, that leaves us out,” Cindy and Maggie said in unison, sounding disappointed.
“Not necessarily,” I noted. “Were running into a brick wall and so we need as many different perspectives as we can get.”
“Besides,” Jack added, “the only way our client is going to make any real money is if he can convince more people to become blondes.”
“But why would I want to become a blonde?” Maggie asked.
“Yeah,” Cindy said.
Before Jack or I could answer, Caroline asked in a menacingly quiet voice. “What’s wrong with being a blonde?”
“Nothing Caroline,” Cindy responded and Maggie nodded vigorously to show she too agreed. “It’s just that you have the coloring for it. It suits you. I don’t think Maggie or I could pull it off.”
I should have just shut up, but “pull it off” had a peculiar ring to it. It’s much like the only time you should ask a woman if she is pregnant is when you see the baby’s head coming out; there are some questions that just should not be asked. “Does that mean you’re not a natural blonde?”
Her face was instantly bright red and I knew I was in trouble, so I used my advertising skills to backpedal as best I could. “I mean, I never would have guessed.”
Too little, too late.
“Whether I’m a natural blonde or not is none of your business,” she huffed, standing and gathering her drink and purse. “If this stuff is so great, it should make anyone look like a natural blonde. Why don’t you try it?”
With that, she left. A moment later, Cindy and Maggie had made their excuses and left too, trotting to catch up to their friend. I slumped down onto the table and groaned. “My life is over,” I sighed overly dramatically. “We may as well go back to work now.”
“You’re right.” It was Hank. He had that glow in his eye, the one he gets when he’s onto an idea. “We’ve got work to do.”
“What’s going on?” Jack asked. “Did I miss something?”
“The answer Jacky Boy. The answer to our problem,” he said, bubbling over with excitement. “Come on.”
“How can you tell if a blonde’s been using a computer?” Jack asked, trying to lighten the mood in Hank’s office. We had been arguing violently for the past hour and I had offered my resignation twice. I was going for three.
“Shut up!” Hank and I both said in unison. Then Hank added with a tentative smile, “You see, we can still agree on some things.”
“Yes, but apparently not on the important things. I categorically won’t do it.”
“You’ll see white-out on the screen.”
“I said shut up,” we responded in unison.
Turning to Hank, I continued. “If you think this is such a good idea, you do it, or convince Jack here to do it. I can just see him standing on stage, modeling the product and telling blonde jokes.”
“Which would go over like a lead balloon,” Hank answered. “Besides, he’s bald. There’s not enough up there to pull it off.”
“At least mentally,” I grumbled, not quite as quietly as I had meant if Jack’s expression was any indication.
“Look. You know it’s a good idea. It’s different. It will catch people’s attention, just like those borderline porn ads from Ralph Lauren ®.”
“It IS porn.”
“No it isn’t. You’ll be fully dressed.”
“But I’m not blonde. I have black hair.”
“So? That’s the whole point. If our beauticians can use this stuff and make you look good, it will work for anyone.”
“Then it’s just plain weird.”
“Of course it is. Weird sells as you very well know.”
“People will think I’m some kind of ‘sicko’.” I was running out of excuses and I knew that he knew that I couldn’t afford to quit this job. I’d never find one that paid anywhere near as well.
“And you can laugh all the way to the bank. Besides, maybe the client won’t like it…or will want a different model doing it.”
He had me there. I had early on recognized the value of money. From paper routes, to yo-yo string supplier, I had been working since I was eight. The problem was, this was a good gimmick and I knew it.
“Okay. But I want a promise to make a hard sell to the client to find another, better model.” Hank knew I was already running ideas through my mind as to how I could make the idea work, but still make such a bad impression, the client wouldn’t want me.
“Hey Caroline,” Maggie called. “Look at this. I hear this stuff is absolutely great.”
“So you girls are serious about going blonde?” Caroline asked as she glanced at the ad Maggie was pointing to in her magazine. They were back at Bloody Bob’s for a pre-makeover celebration.
“Cindy says she’ll do it if I do it. I’m just not convinced that I’d look good as a blonde.”
“Of course you would and that ad’s the proof of the matter.”
“What do you mean? What’s that ad got to do with proving we should go blonde?”
“Look at that model’s face. Does it remind you of any one?”
“I don’t think so. How about you Cindy?”
“Nope. I don’t recognize her.”
“Sure you do. Think a moment.”
Both girls examined the model carefully, before again denying they recognized the model.
“You met her here.”
“Here in Bloody Bob’s? I don’t remember seeing anyone that looked that good in here. I’d remember that kind of competition.”
“We joined them to discuss the same product being advertised in that ad.”
“The only time I ever talked to anyone about this stuff in this bar was with those guys…”
Caroline just smiled knowlingly.
“You don’t mean…”
Caroline nodded.
What? What Maggie? What’s Caroline talking about?” Cindy stared at the picture again. “Oh? Oooooh.”
Caroline nodded again. “I wonder if he still lets his friend tell those terrible blonde jokes?”
“Damn it Mac, you’re killing yourself. Even the doctor says so. Why do you think he called you a ‘heart attack waiting to happen’?”
McKenzie scowled. He would have asked his sister to leave, but he was at her house instead of home. Plus, it would have been rude after the wonderful meal she had prepared, especially when still at the dining room table. David had been smart and taken Igor for a walk. David was a free agent, but McKenzie was going to have a talk with Igor about deserting him like that.
“I am who I am sis. Not you, nor the physician are going to make me different.”
“Great. So I should start the funeral arrangements now? Remember Jenna? I still wake up crying some nights after dreaming of Jenna. You used to help change her diapers Mac. She worshiped you and I though you cared about her too. Remember how she kept putting off medical exams? By the time she realized she had cancer of the cervix it was way to late. Mac, think for a minute. I’m not asking for a lot, just to have my younger brother around for a few more years. You’re way overweight.”
McKenzie nodded in grudging agreement.
“You have the first signs of diabetes.”
“I’m dealing with it Janice.” His words sounded plaintiff even to McKenzie.
“You NEVER exercise.”
“I walk a lot at work.” This time he clearly whined as he said it and Janice snorted in response.
“Look Mac. You have a crappy job,” Janice waved off his retort and plowed on through her speech. “You have no friends and you spend all of your spare time sitting in front of a computer writing stories in a genre that has maybe a few thousand enthusiasts world-wide. You won awards for your writing in high school AND in college before you dropped out. At least write something normal, something you can get paid for.”
The evening went downhill from there. McKenzie was only too happy when he finally headed for home to get ready for the “early shift” he didn’t really have.
Chapter Thirteen -- The Writing Life
"‘Dear McKenzie,’ the man read out loud to his dog. ‘That last story of yours wasn’t up to your usual standard. Come on, Mac, blonde jokes are out. Get a grip and write something decent for a change.’”
Igor barked.
“The only response I got to that story and it has to be from some asshole who doesn’t have a sense of humor. Christ! What do they want from me? This isn’t supposed to be great literature here.”
McKenzie pushed away from the computer but glanced back as the email dinged. “Oh, great, Wally the Weasel.” With sarcasm dripping from his voice, he added, “I can’t wait to see what he has to say.”
Once again, McKenzie Rigby inflicted another pointless story onto the readers of this list. How long will it take before Mr. Rigby gets the message that his writing, at least in the genre, is, at best, pedestrian and his talent, or lack there of is not welcome on this list or any other.
Hello, McKenzie, it’s Superboy not Superkid, and he works for DC comics, not PC. Get it right if you are going to write fan fiction.
And while I’m at it, get a map. There is no country named Slovarnia.
Also, I’d like to see someone like you try to flog me to death….”
McKenzie hit the delete key, “Anal retentive son of a bitch! The word is parody, but that’s beyond your IQ of negative 20 to grasp.”
The list wouldn’t stand for that, he thought. Any second, he expected to see a bunch of mail in support of his stories–any second now. One ding came after five minutes from–Jeff Hollis. Jeff had always supported him in the past. “Hey, that’s one of my identities,” McKenzie realized as he opened the letter.
“I have to agree with Wally, this time. Big Mac’s stories are getting kind of lame.”
After checking the email address twice, McKenzie opened Netscape to Webmail 5.0 and pulled up the account. He couldn’t get in. This is my account, he thought as he tried the password again. Someone’s going to pay for this, but... If I tell anyone that I’m Jeff Hollis... No, better let that slide. He pulled up a couple of his other identities, still secure, but he changed the passwords to be safe.
“You want a flame war, Weasel boy? You got one. And it’s not funny,” he told the dog. McKenzie could swear the dog had been laughing at him. Igor just yawned and rolled over, but the dog’s ribs were still moving in a manner that reminded Mac of laughter.
“Or better yet, I’ll quit the list. That will show them.” McKenzie reopened his own account, and typed out the letter.
“To all of my friends on the TG-TF mailing list. Since that is the way you feel about my writing, I will honor your wishes and leave this list for good. I could have been posting to some of the big lists like TSA-Talk or Fictionmania, but I appreciated the intimacy of a small, seldom used list like this one. That’s it, amigos. I am out of here.”
“I wouldn’t post that if I were you,” a voice said just behind McKenzie’s left ear.
McKenzie spun around and, of course, no one was there.
“Over here, writer boy,” the voice said again. This time the man spotted a ball of sparkling white light that was maybe two inches long.
“What?” McKenzie stammered out. He squinted at the ball of light until it resolved itself into the figure of a tiny man, dressed in a sparkling white suit. A pair of multi-colored butterfly wings fluttered on the homunculus’ back.
“What in hell are you supposed to be?”
The man bowed. “I’m Fred, the fairy list uncle. You gonna make somethin’ of it, Mac, old boy? See this wand–this one right here?” Fred asked and held out a tiny stick. “This wand can do a lot of damage.”
“Oh, I get it. I’m dreaming.”
“Guess again, writer boy. I’m not a dream, but I can be your worst nightmare if you send that letter to my list.”
“Your list?”
“The TG-TF list. It’s still not a big enough genre to get real list uncles like the others, so I’m it. And I hate it when one of you writer types gets a hair up his over-sized ass about something that someone said and you threaten to leave. Or, in your case, you threaten to leave just to get sympathy because that nasty critic hurt your feelings. Well, boo hoo, Mr. Rigby and stop whining.”
“But he started it,” McKenzie said, with a pout. “I’ve put my heart and soul into those stories and he trashes them.”
That’s what critics do. They have their purpose, as do you writers. Okay, so you’re a competent storyteller for the most part, but no great shakes, you know? If you can’t take a few non-constructive criticisms along the way you had better give it up now.”
“But he’s so incredibly stupid,” McKenzie protested.
“That may be, but it’s not for you to say so. Most of the people that are–discriminating enough to be on this list know old Wally for what he is, and they have a good idea what you are, too. So, if you want to quit my list and go to another one, feel free, but don’t do it publicly. Leave and be done with it, but don’t spend the next five weeks whining about it. Got me?”
“Or what? You’ll turn me into a girl with that wand?”
McKenzie felt his body tingle for a second, before he shrank and shriveled down into a five-year-old girl holding a misshapen dolly with red yarn for hair and no internal skeleton. He looked at himself, then at the doll. “Very funny, Freddie.”
“How about this?”
The child grew, and developed into a teenaged girl, then into a rather well endowed adult. McKenzie hesitated for a moment before touching his right breast. “It’s real,” he said in his own voice. Startled, he looked at his reflection in the windowpane only to see his own ugly face topping the body of a voluptuous bimbo. He screamed.
“Told you the wand could do a lot of damage. Now do you believe me?”
“Please, I’ll do anything you ask, just do something about this.”
Two seconds later, McKenzie changed back into himself. He patted his chest, and sighed. “You could have left me female, you know.”
“Not in the contract, kiddo. I don’t do wishes. Behave yourself, or else. Don’t mess around with my list. Oh, and you really don’t need to be your own fan club. You can have that email address back, but keep all your various pen names to yourself. Don’t make me come back.” Fred said, bowed and vanished.
McKenzie stumbled back to his seat, and sat down glaring at the computer screen. He deleted the letter in progress, then typed out a quick note to the list: “Thanks, Fred. Thanks for waking me up.”
Within a minute, at least a dozen responses came back. All but one of them read to the effect of, “Hey, you met Fred. Cool! What’s he like?”
The last was an admin message asking that the ‘Thanks Fred’ thread to be dropped as off topic.
Typing again, McKenzie wrote a private letter:
Dear Wally, we need to talk. Please respond at your earliest convenience. Thanks.
“There,” McKenzie told Igor as he sent the next chapter off into cyberspace. “That sort of realism always gets them. Think they will believe I really had a change of heart and decided to stay? Hell, if this keeps up I’m going to have to consider the possibility that Janice might actually be right, and that’s something I’d prefer not happen. It would be just one more time when she could gloat about how big sisters are always right.”
Igor growled, barked once and then settled down to chasing his tail. He clearly didn’t share my concerns. “What do you know, you stupid pooch? Let’s see what the readers have to say.”
But as McKenzie sorted through his e-mail, his thoughts kept coming back to Janice’s comments. Taking a break, he trudged over to the refrigerator and took out a stalk of celery to munch on. He hated it when Janice was right, but given all the aches and pains he’d been feeling recently, the celery was a start.
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Fourteen -- The Curse
It was a good time to be alive. Nebuchanezzer was king and I was his youngest son, Amechdel, or "Angel." I was just fourteen, but I had already learned the central concept of life, "It's good to be the king, but if you can't be king-and with thirteen older sons, even my mother, Amytis, had no expectations there-it's almost as good to be royalty."
My needs were met with remarkable alacrity. I had but to ask. The food was excellent, of course his Royal Highness insisted on that. The royal library was pretty cool too, as long as Amel-Marduk wasn't around. He was first-born and loved to lord it over us. Better were the Hanging Gardens where I could run and play to my heart's content. But best of all was the market.
Babylon had to have the biggest market in the entire world. Where the rest of Babylon had streets a hundred cubits wide, wide enough for Dad's armies to march thirty abreast, the market was chock full of booths leaving labyrinthine and meandering pathways, sometimes barely wide enough for two to pass. No two booths were alike. Strange and amazing colors, aromas and objects were everywhere. Rugs from Persia lay next to racks of spices. Vegetables from the outlying farms were displayed next to jewels and trinkets from the mysterious East. What better place for games like hide and seek?
It was during such a game that I found it at a trinket stand. I had left Hammad with a servant so he would not bark and give me away. Running the stand was a beady-eyed Sumarian with no teeth and a missing left hand-a sure sign that he had been a rather poor thief in the past. You could see his eyes narrow and calculations go through his head as he saw me in my gold brocaded vest and pantaloons. Then he turned and slowly walked back to his display, gesturing me to follow. It was as good a place to hide as any, maybe even better than some, since it provided more to a common taste as so was sufficiently different to be an unlikely place to find one of my refinement.
"Young master. Welcome to my humble establishment. What may I display for you this fine day?"
"Nothing. We are playing hide and seek and I am looking for someplace to hide."
"Well, come right in young master. Hide in my tent. And feel free to examine my merchandise while you are there."
"Thank you. I shall." With that I pushed past him and entered the tent just behind his table of worn wares. The inside was even filthier than that outside if that was possible-and more crowded. Though I had refused to admit it, something called to me. My game of "Hide and Seek" forgotten, I moved through the tent in a daze; my fingers running lightly over object after object as I searched for something-something that kept eluding me.
At the back of the tent, buried amongst a pile of used and soot covered lamps, I found it. It was a lamp just like all the others in the pile; a scruffy thing, green with tarnish and lacking any jewels that might dazzle the eye or appeal to the baser interests of the less informed. Yet it drew me, drew me as nothing I had ever seen before. When I touched it, I knew I must have it.
I ran to the tent entrance with the lamp clutched tightly in my hand, yet held far enough from my robes to avoid dirtying them. I was certain the proprietor would stop me as soon as I lifted the flap, but for some reason he was nowhere to be seen. In fact, when I turned back to the tent, expecting that I had run past him, the tent was missing, replaced by a livery shop.
I recognized magic when I saw it and we had always been taught that there was no such thing as good magic. Maybe Amel-Marduk had decided, for some arcane reason, to start removing competitors for the throne from the bottom up. Shaken and frightened, I ran all the way home, not stopping until I was buried amongst the silks and pillows of my bed.
I don't remember falling asleep, but I woke later that afternoon with Hammad licking my face. His tail wagged tentatively and his eyes looked worried. It was as if he too were fearful of the sudden entry of something terrible into my life. The lamp was beside me covered by a pillow.
The royal tutors had taught me well and I did not even try to pick it up. The disappearing tent, the obsession to take it, the lamp had to be magic and probably evil magic at that. Instead, I carefully slid away from it and continued sliding away until I was off my bed and on the far side of my room. I was about to call for a servant to find one of the court mages when I realized Hammad was still on my bed. If he moved the wrong way, he might activate the lamp and spill whatever evil resided in the world inside the lamp out into ours.
"Hammad! Stay! Don't move, boy. Stay!"
"Woof!" Hammad wagged his tail happily. He thought I wanted to play with him.
"No Hammad! Stay! Don't move. Don't move." I kept repeating the command as I slowly circled around the bed so I could grab him and pull him off before he could set off whatever magic was in that horrid lamp. I almost made it when Hammad gleefully jumped into my arms, convinced I was playing with him.
I stood there holding Hammad, blithely oblivious to his frantic licking as I held my breath waiting for a cloud of smoke, a wavering in the fabric of reality, a demon floating above a pit of fire or some other sign that the lamp's magic had been invoked.
When nothing happened, I pushed Hammad's face from mine and held him tightly so he wouldn't accidentally do something stupid as I ran to my door and called for a servant.
It was dark out the next time I woke up. I was still in my bed, covered with silks to keep out the night chill, but something was not quite right. As usual, I had been dreaming of houri and other heavenly delights. The curve of one's hip as she danced for me, the deep, dark, sensuous eyes of another who fed me grapes and pomegranates, the bounteous breast of yet another as she carefully cleaned my feet; many such beauties passed before my eyes as they lovingly ministered to my needs. It had to be heaven.
A deep, rumbling voice interrupted my reveries. "You mortals are so predictable," the voice sneered.
"Huh?" I frantically searched for the intruder. The biggest problem with being royalty is the risk of assassination and the first step in avoiding it was to know where a potential assassin might be. However, the room was empty. Only Hammad was there, standing beside me, staring at me, eyes glowing red.
EYES GLOWING RED!
"By the Great Djinn, you humans are slow," Hammad snarled with that same rumbling voice, the owner of which I had been seeking.
"What have you done to Hammad?"
"Just like a mortal to ask the wrong questions," the dog sighed with a sound like the last, wheezing gasp of a dying penitent receiving the King's justice. "Hammad has gone to his reward. I have assumed his form as it is required that a Djinn appear in a manner familiar to the mortal who has summoned him."
"So Hammad has passed beyond?" I was desolate. Hammad had been with me since my birth. He had stood by my crib and protected me. He had been my constant companion as I grew up. He had been my eyes and ears in the palace, helping to protect me from the various intrigues of my brothers and sisters. I had to save him if I could. Screwing up my courage, and realizing that Djinn were the masters of the wish, I asked, "What if I wish him back?"
"Too late foolish mortal," the dog laughed. It sounded like stone grating against stone. "You have used your wishes, each providing you different aspects of your new life. I am only here for the personal satisfaction of observing you as you as you discover the full extent of your errors."
"What do you mean?" I asked, but I already had a suspicion. My body felt fine, so it seemed safe to assume that it had done nothing to me. My room looked the same, the silks and pillows were the same; the hanging rugs were the same.
Hammad, or whatever he had become just laughed and faded away as the sun peaked over the palace walls and shone into my bedroom. Even in the light, everything looked the same. I was the same. The demon Djinn had done nothing but lie, perhaps hoping to trick me into making foolish wishes.
"Amechdela? Angel?" It was my mother Amytis. "Wake up my dear. Your father, King Nebuchanezzer, is meeting with King Pasuad of Persia this afternoon and he wants his entire family to join him. You must rise now so that you can be prepared dear daughter. Pasuad has brought several of his eligible bachelor son with him."
See. Everything is just as it should be, Amechdela thought to herself; but still, there was the faint sound of laughter from a distance.
McKenzie pressed the "enter" key and sent the story off.
Hearing a growl, he turned to see Igor standing behind him snarling.
"What? You were in that story. You know you were. What's the problem?"
"Grrrr."
"Damn! What? You were in there. Who the hell do you think Hammad was?"
"Grrrr."
"If you think you can do better then go right ahead," Mac retorted.
Igor stopped growling. Instead, his eyes began to glow red and Mackenzie Rigby began to see the world swirl and fade from view as he began to fall through a long tunnel, fall toward a light-a distant light…
Amachdela quickly jumped out of bed in response to her mother's call. Running lightly toward the door to hug her mother and start the day, she glanced back and called for her dog, the dog that did everything with her.
"Mackenzie? Come Mackenzie girl. We must prepare."
No one understood why she called the pretty bitch Mackenzie instead of some more common name-like Hammad.
Interlude Fourteen
McKenzie was huffing and puffing, but he forced himself to walk, albeit slowly, along the path as Igor romped merrily in the piles of leaves. Janice was coming by tomorrow and he wanted to be able to say that he had exercised, even if it killed him. Otherwise, she'd spend the entire visit haranguing him to take better care of himself. Besides, given the lack of praise for his writing of late from those fickle fools on the web, Janice's insistence that he try to write something more mainstream was actually becoming tempting.
"Stay close, Igor," McKenzie instructed the dog as he dropped the leash and let him run free. They were in a relatively secluded area. Across from the bench McKenzie had chosen was a small field, surrounded by heavily treed hills that curved around three sides leaving a narrow opening just to the left of the bench. The trail continued into a tunnel leading out of the park. It was a perfect place to let Igor stretch is legs a bit-and for Mac to rest.
Taking a dog biscuit from his jacket pocket, Mac called for Igor's attention then threw the biscuit as far as he could toward the distant trees. With a bark and a furiously wagging tail, Igor was off, leaving Mac to his thoughts.
Unfortunately, McKenzie hadn't really been enjoying his thoughts of late. Maybe it was Janice, maybe it was his recent health concerns, or maybe he was just growing up, but Mac kept wondering why he was writing the stuff he was writing. In the past, he'd always insisted that he was just writing science fiction, or at least fantasy. After all, the vast majority of his stories involved magic, space aliens or pseudoscience, which Mac preferred to describe as future science. None of that trashy soft porn for Mac; he was a real writer. But then, why was he writing almost exclusively about men changing into women?
For the tenth time since he'd started this walk, McKenzie blustered about how that was the McGuffin, the hook he was using to draw in this particular group of readers, that the concept had no other appeal to him whatsoever. That answer had been getting less and less acceptable each time the question had arisen. This time it didn't work at all. The niggling little doubt had become a full-fledged torrent. Maybe transgender stories mean more to him than just a venue? Maybe he liked reading the stuff? Maybe he wondered about what it would be like to be a woman? Maybe he wanted to be a woman?
His usual response was to brush these thoughts off with a comment like, "And maybe the moon really is made of green cheese," but it just didn't work this time. This time he was really going to need to think about the questions seriously and give an honest answer. He didn't dress in women's clothes, so that wasn't an explanation. Sex was sex. He didn't visualize himself as the woman having sex, so that wasn't it. He didn't even dream of being a woman or feel like he was trapped in the wrong body, as some described themselves, so that wasn't it either. Wasn't doing it because he was jealous of women and the power he perceived they had in our current society, so what was it? So the answer was he didn't know?
The problem with hard thinking is it doesn't stop when you say you don't know. Probing further, McKenzie realized that there was something he was jealous about. He was jealous about how small women were, how they could demonstrate such amazing flexibility, and grace, in their movements. Maybe he really didn't care about being female. Maybe he just dreamed of being small and flexible and graceful and free of pain and…. But why females? Why did the vast majority of his stories describe men changing into women rather than other smaller, more graceful, more flexible creatures like-porpoises-or cats-or…
Because he wasn't the kind of author who could write a story from the perspective of a non-human creature. He'd never write something like Richard Bach's Jonathan Livingston Seagull. It was such an obvious answer, so easy to jump on as an explanation. McKenzie was tempted, so tempted. But then, he wondered, why not write about transformations into children-and he was back to square one.
Without even realizing he had done it, McKenzie tossed another dog biscuit to Igor, then another, and then another.
A while later, he realized the dog was standing in front of him barking and he had no more biscuits to throw. A bit surprised, McKenzie ponderously rose to a standing position. Walking over to the dog, he grave Igor a brief, but vigorous petting. Then he bent over and grabbed the dog's leash before slowly heading home.
As he walked, his thoughts were diverted to another topic. There was a strange taste in his mouth. It took a moment to realize what it was-dog biscuit. No wonder igor had been barking at him. He hadn't been throwing the biscuits to the dog; he'd been eating them himself. What better proof that the diet wasn't going that well.
The Ultimate TG Experience
by McKenzie Rigby
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Fifteen -- Resistance is Futile
A low hum, and bright white light flooding through his basement window, woke McKenzie from a deep sleep. Igor's barking didn't help any either. He blinked against the light for a moment, listened to the throbbing hum outside and then rolled over to go back to sleep. At that point he noticed that the mattress was further away than it should have been. He was floating-about six inches off the bed.
First, he stretched out his hand to touch the mattress and pillow; then he waved his hand in the air between the mattress and his bed, searching for anything that could be supporting him in the air. His increasingly frantic search was interrupted when the window opened by itself and he started floating toward it. This was crazy, some sort of a nightmare, he thought, but when he pinched himself, he felt the pain and nothing changed.
"I can't fit through that," he muttered to himself as his head began to push through the small basement window, half relieved that he could wait, floating there until someone came and helped him. But then McKenzie watched in shock as the window grew larger and larger until his entire body slid outside without any trouble. Once he was through it, the window shrunk back to its original size and then shut itself.
Looking up again, McKenzie blinked against the light until he could make out a huge, dark shape overhead.
A crowd of people gathered below him, drawn by the light-although the floating man might have had something to do with their interest too-making McKenzie grateful he never slept in the nude. He kept rising higher and higher above the heads of the onlookers.
"Okay, what's going on here?" a uniformed policeman demanded. "Why are you floating up there like that?"
"Ask them," McKenzie replied and pointed up. "This wasn't my idea. I think I'm being abducted by aliens. Could you call out the National Guard or someone?"
"Good point," the officer agreed as McKenzie rose a higher still. He pulled a radio off his belt, and opened a channel. A moment later he called up to McKenzie. "Sorry, mister, that there is a weather balloon that's pulling you up. When you get to the basket you'll find instructions on how to land it. That's what the Air Force Public Information Officer tells dispatch anyway. Nothing to be alarmed about, folks, this happens every day."
Several people laughed, and someone called out, "Hey, Rigby don't forget to get pictures."
By then, McKenzie had floated too high to hear much from the people watching him. Craning his neck to look up, he saw a huge, black, saucer-shaped vehicle with red and white lights blinking along the underside, just before the world blanked out.
McKenzie found himself lying on a long silver surface that looked like metal, but felt soft, like a cot. It was the same color as the walls, floor and ceiling of the room. Monitors, and computer screens of all sorts surrounded him. He looked down to find leads and IV tubes attached to his chest, arms and legs. There was the frame of what might be an opening in one wall, but it was also a solid silver mass and there was no doorknob. In fact, there was nothing else in the room, not even a button to push to call for room service.
A blob-the only thing he could think of to describe the tall, amorphous, brown mass that entered the room, oozed over to the cot-touched McKenzie on the forehead, then backed off. A second blob, this one blue, oozed into the room as well.
"We are the Borg. Resistance is futile," one of the things thought at him.
"No, you aren't," McKenzie said, puzzled. He'd seen enough episodes of StarTrek to know that Borg were people with funny wires sticking out of assorted body parts, not pretty colored blobs.
"That is, from what we have deduced from your entertainments, the appropriate greeting from a space faring race, such as ourselves, to a member of your species."
"Not even close. You are supposed to say 'Greetings, Earthling. We come in Peace.' Then you're supposed to say, 'Take us to your leader.'"
"Oh, right. Of course, then do we say, "We are the Borg"?
"Yes, then you say it. Now, do you wish to try it again?"
The brown blob cleared its throat…er…its thought pro-duction apparatus.
"Greetings Earthling. We come in Peace. Take us to your leader. We are the Borg. Resistance is futile."
"Got it. Turn this thing south, follow I-95 to Washington DC and I will point out our leader when we get there."
"Actually, Mr. Rigby comma McKenzie, we came to speak to you."
"Me?" McKenzie pinched himself again and was a bit disappointed to find that it hurt, again. For the first time he began to believe that the space ship and the blob creatures might be real. Either that or he was going to have to ask his psychiatrist to up his medication. "Why me?"
"Because you, Mr. Rigby, are a great philosopher and we wish to learn from your wisdom before we once again travel into the great beyond. We have been ship-bound for hundreds of generations. We still receive transmission from our home planet of Gygaxion daily, but at this point the educational reports are hundreds of years old.
"You see, when we first began to receive signals from your world about fifty of your planetary cycles ago, we were thrilled. At last, after all of our voyaging, we had found a sentient species that was not only a civilization of builders, but space farers as well. We could not understand, however, why a great Federation of planets, who had built state-of-the-art starships such as the Enterprise, could send a scientific mission, including a family with young, into space in such a substandard ship as the Jupiter Two."
"McKenzie laughed. "You didn't realize that was fiction?"
"No, not at that point. After many years of study, we did reach the conclusion that some broadcasts were meant strictly as entertainments, while the rest were informative. We have never had such broadcasts from Gygaxion, and we assumed, incorrectly, that your broadcasts were also educational only.
"Now, of course, we are aware of the mistake and we, the scientific community of this ship, in fact all Gygaxiennes on the home world as well, have questions, many questions, that we need to ask you, Mr. Rigby."
"Why me?"
"We have access to the computer transmissions known as the Internet as well as your space broadcasts, and we have studied fictions such as those that you write. You, of all the writers we have found, have not only stated much of our own philosophy, but have advanced the concepts one-hundred-fold. You, with your brilliance and wisdom, could be the only logical choice for us to contact with our pressing questions."
"I see." McKenzie responded craftily. "Of course, I am a busy man."
"You will be handsomely rewarded, Mr. Rigby. We will see to that."
"In that case, I suppose I could find some time in my schedule for you. Not that I meet space faring aliens everyday, mind you. What did you have in mind for the reward?"
"That we will leave up to you. First, I have always wanted to know, why were a group of humans, stranded on an island for years and why were they never rescued by other humans even though they had cameras and broadcast capability?"
"That was an entertainment. You see there are several ways that you can tell Earth entertainments from Earth educational broadcasting. Usually, in educational programming, the human addresses the camera directly as if he or she is speaking to the audience personally. In entertainments, the humans pretend the camera is not there."
"Ah, we had every faith in you, Mr. Rigby comma McKenzie, and it is wonderful to know that our faith was so well placed. We knew that your wisdom would clarify things.
"Second, in several of your writings, you define the field of pseudoscience correctly, but you do not delve into the related field of absurdity. Is there a reason for this?"
"You must be aware, that ninety-nine percent of human culture is based on absurdity? There is no need, when writing for my species to delve into it. It is understood by everyone, except those in power, that everything we do is absurd."
Several blobs applauded. McKenzie had not noticed them entering, but now there was a green one, an orange one and a chartreuse one.
"That is why we sought you out, not some public representative who does not realize this simple fact. We listen to political speeches all the time. What can be more absurd than that? Do these people not know this when they give the speeches?"
"Of course they know it. Politics is a game to see which candidate can tell the biggest lie. See, the bigger the lie, the more people believe in your ability to carry on the tradition of absurdity in politics, so the biggest liar wins."
"If people know this, why do they go along with it?"
McKenzie sighed. "It's intuitively obvious to anyone familiar with the science of absurdity. You see, humans want to believe in magic, you know, they want to believe that someone can wave this magic wand and make everything better again. Of course, this never happens in real life. Even if someone had the magic wand, they wouldn't use it like that. But, people still want to believe it, so that's why they believe in the politicians. Magical thinking, true, but there you have it."
"Absurdity. Pure absurdity. Then this also explains your news broadcasts?"
A screen came to life in one wall. The tape rolled to show a local newscaster looking into the camera. "Good evening. In our top story tonight a local man, security guard and sometime writer, McKenzie Rigby was caught and literally pulled from his home by a rogue weather balloon. Witnesses state that Mr. Rigby seemed to float out of his apartment and up to the balloon. The local Air Force Public Information Officer declined to be interviewed, but did release a statement suggesting that it is impossible to float in the air and the eyewitness reports of such were either people in need of psychiatric treatment or hallucinating due to leakage of helium from the weather balloon.
"Although landing instructions are clearly printed in the baskets of all weather balloons, this one was seen leaving the area at an extremely high rate of speed. The National Weather Service reports that this is not unusual for weather balloons, since they are equipped to travel at high rates of speeds from weather event to weather event. They also report that, occasionally, a rogue balloon will accidentally snag passers-by. Rogue balloons can also be difficult to land, but they assure us that eventually Mr. Rigby should be able to land the balloon. Members of the National Weather Service wish to speak to Mr. Rigby as soon as he lands for debriefing in order to make the weather balloon landing instructions more user friendly."
"Yes," McKenzie agreed with a completely straight face. "Our government believes that if they admit that other space faring civilizations exist and that they have visited this planet, the population will panic. A panicked population is to be avoided at all costs-apparently it's bad for business somehow-therefore they feel compelled to make up stories like that one. Now, of course, the population doesn't believe those stories, but they feel that if the government has enough time to create such obvious works of fiction, then it must have everything under control, so they don't panic. The logic behinds this escapes me, but it works."
"Thank you so kindly for putting that into perspective for us.
"Now. Next question. Which tastes better-Coke or Pepsi?"
"That is a matter of personal preference... Pepsi," McKenzie added quickly. "After all, 'It's the choice of a whole new generation,' you know."
"Yes, we know. But how can they be certain that the whole generation likes it?"
"They can't. Advertising slogans are just that. Absurd, logically impossible, but there."
"Then you would say that humans, for the most part, are illogical?"
"No, not at all. I think most people are strictly logical, except when it comes to communicating with other humans. That's where the absurdity and illogic comes in. It's human nature to exaggerate, to make oneself appear much better than someone else, to tell the biggest lie. In dealing with space faring races, such as yourselves, I hope we can do better, but I don't think so. It's also human nature to mistrust things we don't understand. If I did take you to my leader that would be the worst thing I could do for you."
It was hard to tell that they were confused from their facial expressions, probably because they didn't have any-faces that is-but the way their thoughts fluttered and flitted in his mind made their feelings absolutely clear.
"You have to give up all logic and even basic sanity to work for the government so you won't get anywhere with our leaders. They won't pass on any information and they will have weapons pointed at you the entire time. That's just the way it works. You must have seen that in our entertainments."
"Yes, but we had hoped it would be different in real life."
"Not a chance. When I do go home, I will have to tell the-Weather Service, or whomever they are, that I finally managed to press the right buttons to land this rogue balloon. They really should put better instructions in the baskets."
"They won't believe you."
"I know," McKenzie said with a sigh. "You folks hypnotized me to forget that I was ever on anything but a weather balloon. That is what they will believe."
"Absurd. Well, Rigby comma McKenzie we appreciate everything that you have done for us. Your explanations were everything we hoped they would be. We can safely report that we met you, the greatest philosopher of your world, and that nothing else is important. Now, your reward."
"Wait," McKenzie called out. "Before you do any secret surgeries on me, would you please answer a couple of questions?"
"Of course, but quickly as we must be going. There's a lot more space for us to explore."
"Okay," McKenzie thought for a moment. "Yeah, I gotta ask this first. Why do you keep calling me Rigby comma McKenzie? My name's McKenzie Rigby."
"Why to honor you of course. We call you by the name listed on that most high of all awards offered to a human-the name as it is printed on your paycheck."
McKenzie woke up after the weirdest dream. Something about rogue weather balloons. She shook her long, strawberry blonde hair and laughed, a tinkling sound that made her one of the most sought after stars in the history of Hollywood. Now all she had to do was get a better part than being stuck on a stupid desert island with nothing but bit players, and a cartoon voice-over.
"There we go, Igor, another masterpiece for the list. At least my loyal fans will get a kick out of it. Maybe I should have offered those aliens Wally the Weasel as an experimental subject. No one would miss him.
Interlude Fifteen
I don't believe it. They're complaining that I haven't finished a story and that Weasel is leading the pack.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER SIXTEEN
All Dolled Up
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Sixteen -- All Dolled Up
The rain fell in sheets and the wind, gusting first this way and then that, made Corey Plaz's umbrella useless. He was completely soaked by the time he had run the short distance from his car to the employee entrance by the loading dock of Scagliola's Body Works. With his umbrella in one hand and his briefcase in the other, Corey leaned an elbow heavily on the doorbell while cursing fluently; hoping it would get him inside just a little bit faster. Furious, he was ready to start pounding on the door when it finally opened.
"Wet out there, ain't it Mr. Plaz?" The man who opened the door was short, but his hunched back made him seem even shorter. He has been working at the Body Works even longer than Plaz, and Plaz had been there almost twenty years in just about every capacity possible, yet he still didn't know the other man's last name.
"Yes Iggy, it's a little wet out there," Corey snarled back through gritted teeth as he shook as much of the water from his clothes as he could. It left a sizable puddle.
"I better mop that up or someone'll get hurt."
"Good idea-and don't leave the damn mop bucket in front of the bathroom like you always do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work do to. Is Rigby here yet?"
"No sir, but I found out that someone left the wax bath on. I got burned. It hurt," Iggy reported, proudly displaying his hand for Plaz to see. Is Mister Rigby okay? I'll pray for him. Mama says I pray good."
"Great! You pray, because I'm going to kill that son of a bitch if he doesn't show up by the time I get to the office and confirm the order for tonight," Plaz grumbled, ignoring everything but the fact that the only other person doing the mannequin assembly for tomorrow's orders was missing in action. "I need him tonight." Corey stalked off to the Pit, as everyone but Corey called the mannequin staging area that was his office. He didn't bother the check whether Iggy limped off to get a mop. Without Rigby, it would be a very long and hectic night. He'd even have to do some work.
Corey had just finished laying out the parts for the second group of twenty mannequins he needed to set up when Rigby strode cheerfully into the Pit. "Hi Mr. Plaz. Just a bit wet out there tonight, isn't it?"
"You're late! Where were you?"
"So much for small talk," Rigby responded, trying unsuccessfully for humor. "Didn't you check the answering machine? I live in a basement apartment and it flooded. When I left, there was already about six inches on the floor. I got everything of value as high off the floor as I could and then came to work."
"The answering machine is in the administrative offices on the other side of the building. You know I wouldn't take the time to go all the way over there, especially when there's so much to do tonight. You know, being the owner's son does not give you the right to just blow off work when you feel like it. Consider yourself docked the two hours and get to work. The orders are on the table there. Start rounding up the parts."
"Dock me?" Rigby began gathering items as he spoke. "How many times have I spent my own time just to make sure one last rush order went out on time? My home is under water. I would think you could cut me just a bit of slack."
"Slack? By my estimates, you owe this company thousands of dollars for the work you haven't done."
"Owe the company time? We'll let my father decide that. I'm outta here." They had gradually moved to the edge of the Pit area, near the loading docks, as they argued. Rigby interrupted his departure to turn back and confront Plaz one last time. "Hell! I've been carrying you for years you…"
"Don't you walk away from me, you little snot," Plaz shouted as he grabbed at Rigby when the younger man started to turn away. Afterwards, he could never quite decide how it had happened. Possibly, Rigby had tripped on his feet as he tried to turn. Surely Plaz's attempt to stop Rigby could have had no impact on what happened next.
As Rigby fell backward, his head bounced off the two-inch thick solid-steel fender of the company's palette loader. There was a loud thud and Rigby crumbled to the floor, unmoving.
"Rigby, you little snot! Rigby! Rigby?"
When Rigby failed to respond, Plaz kicked him.
No response.
"Rigby?" Plaz knelt beside the body and checked for a pulse.
There was none.
"Oh shit."
Plaz ran toward his office to call 911, but as he picked up the telephone, he hesitated. He had told Iggy he was going to kill Rigby. The little man might not be the brightest light, but he had a good memory. He'll tell the police. Oh shit! They'll think I killed the stupid bastard. He slumped into his desk chair and held his head in hands feeling sorry for himself and thinking furiously.
It was not until Plaz raised his head and looked out the glass wall of his office that the idea struck him. His first sight was of Rigby's body, still lying on the ground by the loading dock. I've got to get rid of that body, he thought, but where. His eyes scanned the warehouse and factory that was Scagliola's Body Works. That was it! The factory. Hadn't that idiot Iggy said the wax bath was still hot?
Plaz hurried to the wax bath. Sure enough, it was still on. The wax was bubbling away at 800 °F, more than hot enough.
First, Plaz dragged the body to the wax bath and threw it in. Then, after a few moments to recover from his exertions, he grabbed the mop and bucket from in front of the bathroom where Iggy always left it to mop up the blood stains that showed where Rigby's body had been dragged. But not before cursing at himself for not using the loader to make his life easier and vowing not to make the any more stupid mistakes.
An hour later, Plaz had just finished another set of mannequins for delivery when Iggy hobbled by. "Hi Mr. Plaz. Do you or Mr. Rigby want anything for your break?"
"No Iggy, and Rigby hasn't shown up yet. You told me as much when I came in tonight. Remember?"
"Sure Mr. Plaz. I 'member. But he come in after you. Ain't he here?"
"I haven't seen him yet, but I'd certainly like to-so I can fire his lazy ass. If you see him, tell him I want to see him immediately."
"'Kay, Mr. Plaz. I'll find him and tell him. I'm good at finding things." He started to leave, but hesitated. Turning back, Iggy added, "I guess I gotta pray harder." Then he bowed his head, assumed a respectful position with hands cupped by his mouth and began to pray.
Plaz rolled his eyes. Ignoring the comment, he interrupted the quietly praying moron. "Iggy?"
"Yes Mr. Plaz?"
"Get me a large coffee with cream and extra sugar. And the biggest chocolate donut you can find. I'm feeling hungry tonight."
"Yes, Mr. Plaz."
When Iggy left, Plaz ran to the wax bath and pulled Rigby's body from it with a long handled dredging hook. He had guessed right. The flesh was roasted and soft to the point where it was sloughing off the skeleton in large chunks. Quickly using the hook, he pulled the majority of the flesh from the skeleton, leaving only the skeleton and interior organs.
The roasted skin was cut into sections, stuffed into garbage bags and tossed into the company dumpster. Luckily, the rain had stopped.
Hauling a hanging hook over to the body, he pulled the chain it hung from until he had sufficient slack. Then he jammed the hook into the shoulder blades. Pushing the lift button on the control switch hanging beside him, Plaz raised the remains high enough to get the feet off the floor, and then used the hook to drag it to the nearest mold. Positioning it between the sides of the open mold, he slammed the mold closed.
The next part was tricky. Wax had to be poured from the bath into the mold, but not so much that it overflowed the mold. It took only a few moments to connect the pump and piping to send wax from the bath to the mold. Plaz was about to start the pump when he cursed and undid the mold. Reaching carefully around the body, Plaz greased the mold so the wax would not stick. Then he closed it back up and started pumping wax.
Plaz jerked in surprise when Iggy came back just as Plaz finished pouring the mold.
"Here's the coffee you asked for Mr. Plaz. There weren't no chocolate donuts. I'm sorry, Mr. Plaz. Real sorry."
"Don't worry about it Iggy. Thank you for the coffee."
"No problem Mr. Plaz. I'm just sorry about the donut. I asked and everything. They just didn't have none."
"Like I said Iggy. Don't worry about it."
"'Kay Mr. Plaz. If you say so, I won't worry about the donut. Say, did you do a mold tonight?"
"No Iggy. I don't have the time and it's not my job. Have you found Rigby yet?"
"No Mr. Plaz. I ain't found Mr. Rigby. I'll keep looking-and praying. But I don't remember no mold."
"Of course there must have been a mold. Maybe you didn't notice or just forgot after burning yourself. You know I wouldn't have time for such nonsense, especially when Rigby still hasn't shown up. In fact, why don't you find him like you promised?"
"'Kay Mr. Plaz. I'll find him. I promise." With that, Iggy quickly left the area.
While he waited for the wax to dry, Plaz sipped at his coffee and finished the last of the shipments for the next day. A couple of times he even found himself whistling and ruefully thought to himself that if it was going to make him feel this good, he should have killed Rigby long ago.
The mold was finally cool enough to open and Plaz did so. Hoisting the newly covered wax form, he carefully checked it to make certain that no bones or organs were evident and he was pleased to find that the wax had covered everything evenly. A little bit of light sanding removed the rough edges where the two sides of the molds met. Grabbing a pair, Plaz popped plastic eyes in, spread some makeup-luckily, dramatic was more than acceptable so he didn't have to be too careful-and then sprayed the entire body with a fixative designed to protect the wax from damage.
And now Plaz thought with a chuckle, Rigby-or what was left of him-was a beautiful, if rather shallow and plastic, young woman. Then, he actually laughed out loud at the thought of Rigby gracing the aisle of some woman's wear department for many years to come. At least no one would consider him a pervert in his current condition.
Now the only question was how to dispose of the new mannequin. Looking back, Plaz realized he had made things more difficult for himself when he hadn't just put the whole body in the garbage. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. On all those crime shows on television, the body, even in parts, always turned up at some inconvenient time to trip up the criminal. At least now, no one would recognize the skin as a body part. The only thing that might be safer would be if he were to tan it and make it into a jacket or something. Humm. An interesting idea. For a moment, Plaz actually considered quickly going out to the dumpster and grabbing the bags with the skin to toss into the back seat of his car. Nah. That would be too gross.
"Hi Mr. Plaz," Iggy waved cheerfully. "I got to talk to the police again today." It was another stormy night, much like the one when Rigby had died-er, disappeared, but at least Iggy had been on the job this time and opened the door immediately. Plaz was still soaked, but not quite so grumpy.
"Again?" Plaz asked as he signed in. "Why?"
"Mr. Rigby. He's still missing."
"So? Certainly they don't think you had anything to do with his death, do they Iggy?"
"I don't know Mr. Plaz. They don't tell me nothing. They just ask questions."
"Well, I wouldn't worry about it Iggy." Suddenly, Plaz turned pale.
"Are you 'kay Mr. Plaz? You don't look good. Maybe I should pray for you too?"
"Thank you Iggy. I'm fine. You don't need to pray for me. Say, would you mind if I borrowed the sign-in book? I'd like to make sure I haven't missed a day or two."
"'Kay Mr. Plaz."
"Is Danny here yet?" Danny was Rigby's replacement. Not being a relative, he was much more careful to do exactly as Plaz told him. The only problem was that, like Iggy, he wasn't that smart. In fact, he was probably dumber than Iggy, so without regular checks, the work just didn't get done.
"Sure is Mr. Plaz."
"Good. I'll see you Iggy." With that, Plaz grabbed the sign-in book and nearly ran to his office. After checking the invoices outlining the night's work, he got Danny working and locked himself in his office.
The first thing he did was close the blinds on his window and door. Then he grabbed the sign-in book and flipped back to the day of Rigby's death, five months ago. Both Iggy's and his signature were there in black and white, but, with a sigh of relief, he realized that Rigby had forgotten to sign in. Another loose end wrapped up. Without that signature, no one could prove Rigby had ever been in the factory that night. Of course, with his skin decomposing in some landfill and his skeleton currently serving as a mannequin in another country, there really wasn't too much to worry about.
"Hey Mr. Plaz," Danny called as he knocked on the glass window. "Could you come out here?"
"What's wrong now Danny?"
"I found something."
Plaz sighed. Danny was always 'finding something.' "I'll be right out," he called.
Closing the sign-in book and carefully putting it back where it had been filed, Plaz opened the door to see Danny standing in front of him, but he didn't have his usual, slightly vacant stare and he was wearing some sort of strange hat.
"Okay Danny, what did you find this time? And what's that thing on your head?"
It was the last question he asked before blinding pain drove him into unconsciousness.
When he came to, Plaz found himself with his hands stretched upward, tied to a lift hook. His feet barely touched the floor. No, looking down, he realized they weren't on the floor. He was standing precariously on a mannequin and his feet were tied to it so that he could not move.
He started to ask what the hell was going on when he saw Danny. The boy-actually he was a man, but it was hard to think of him that way considering how child-like he usually acted-had a fiery glow in his eyes that Plaz had never seen before. They stared crazily at him, but there was more; they were angry eyes, angry, insane eyes. It was like Plaz was looking into the pits of Hell as he looked into those eyes. They sucked him in, further and further with promises of torture most exquisite, horror most intense. They-he tore his eyes away from them, feeling real fear, but the view before him did not get any better.
On the floor beside Danny were two plastic garbage bags filled with something. They looked vaguely like the two bags into which he'd stuffed Rigby's skin, but that couldn't be. Those bags had to be long gone, decomposing somewhere in a landfill. Danny hadn't even been working at Scagliola's when Rigby had died. Plaz decided he must have been imagining things because of the weather and his conversation with Iggy.
Then he looked up again and saw what was on Danny's head. It wasn't a hat, or even a bad wig. It was the upper portion of the skin from a human head. Plaz could see the roughly cut edge as it started just above Danny's eyebrows and curved down behind the ears to just above the boy's collar and then back up again on the other side. As he watched, something small, and white, and wriggly peered out from underneath it for a moment before disappearing back underneath it. And the color, it was reddish blond, just like Rigby's.
Plaz screamed-and screamed-and SCREAMED. Then he fainted.
When Plaz woke up the second time, both Iggy and Danny were sitting on the floor about twenty feet away, watching him and waiting. When Plaz's eyes opened, they got up. Each picked up a bag and strolled over to him.
"Ah, you're awake Plaz," Danny said. "We were beginning to wonder if I might not have struck you a bit too hard."
"Wha…"
"How do you like my new leg, Mr. Plaz?" Iggy asked and did a brief dance around the bound man. His limp was completely gone.
"That's enough Iggy. We have a promise to keep and work to do," Danny gently chided.
"'Kay, but I like my new leg."
"And I like my new brain. It's nice to actually know what's going on in the world around me for once."
"'Kay."
With that, ignoring Plaz's curses, threats, screams and pleadings, they undid their bags and allowed the contents to ooze out onto the warehouse floor. It was skin. Rigby's skin.
Once it had been completely emptied from the bags, it seemed to combine into one. Then, excruciatingly slowly, the combined skin continued to slide toward Plaz.
"What the hell is going on here? Iggy! Danny! Let me go."
"Sorry Mr. Plaz," Danny responded. We can't do that. We made a deal. Didn't we Iggy?"
Iggy nodded in agreement.
"What do you mean you can't let me go? Do you want me to have you arrested? You'll go to jail. Is that what you want?"
"He promised us that wouldn't happen and we believe him."
"Him? Him who? What are you two lunatics babbling about?"
"Why Mr. Rigby of course. Surely you remember him. After all, you killed him."
The mass of skin had come within a foot of Plaz's feet. He was feeling a tremendous urgency to get away from it and tried desperately to loosen his feet, too somehow slide the bindings off his legs so he could escape.
"What are you talking about Rigby's d…disappeared. Iggy and I were just talking about it." Iggy nodded his agreement again.
"That's not completely true. Is it Mr. Plaz? You were going to say dead, not disappeared. Mr. Rigby is dead and that's all that remains of him. It's his skin. The skin that you took from him."
"That's impossible. Even if I had done what you say, he disappeared months ago. Any skin would have rotted or been eaten by vermin by now."
"It almost was, but then Mr. Rigby made a deal with the rats and they protected him and brought him back here, to the very dumpster where you left him. It was slow work. They had to hide him during the day and it was hard for them to drag him. That's why it took so long for him to have his revenge. That's where Iggy found him. Mr. Plaz made a deal with Iggy too. He gave him a good leg.
"This is insane. You're both insane. Now release me this instant," Plaz demanded.
"I don't think so. You see, Mr. Rigby made a deal with me too. Just like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, I got a brain-a good brain, one that works so well that I know that you're bluffing. Did you know that before tonight, I wouldn't have known what a bluff was?"
"That's great. That's wonderful. Now let me go and I'll make a deal with you. I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."
The last came out in a snarl. Combined with the glare from Plaz's eyes and the rictus of his face, Plaz could have scared the bravest soul, but not Iggy or Danny.
The oozing flesh had made it to the top of the mannequin. It was mere inches from Plaz's foot. The bound man's snarl broke, to be replaced with terror as he realized how close it had come. Forgetting about his two captors, Plaz redoubled his struggles to escape.
"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you what's about to happen Mr. Plaz," Danny spoke over the noise of the struggles. You're going to provide the skeleton and organs for Mr. Rigby. You see he's coming back. And I also forgot to tell you what the rats took for their part in helping Mr. Rigby return. They wanted to create a race of super rats, so they took his genitals.
"Of course, after having given up all that flesh, Mr. Rigby recognizes that he needs to make a few compromises."
Plaz looked down. The flesh had bunched up and formed into a remarkably close approximation of a cobra head, poised and ready to strike. But it held still, as if waiting for Danny to finish.
"I wasn't completely accurate when I said that Mr. Rigby was coming back. There just isn't enough of him left to do that."
Plaz's eyes brightened. Maybe there was hope. Maybe the vile thing preparing to attack him was overextended. Maybe he might live through this after all.
"Mr. Rigby told me you might show hope when I said that," Danny laughed. "He said to wait for that look before continuing. Now I can tell you the rest.
"I was inaccurate when I said that Mr. Rigby was coming back. As I said, he's had to make some compromises. There just isn't enough of him to make a full-grown man and he has no interest in being a child again. It will actually be Mrs. Rigby who comes back."
With that Danny and Iggy turned and left. Just before the cobra head struck, Danny complemented Iggy on what a good job of praying he'd done.
Interlude Sixteen
Mac sat at the computer, staring at the latest critique of his stories. Sure enough, Wally the Weasel had his–no her two cents thrown in.
“Once again, Big Mac Rigby has inflicted another piece of incomprehensible writing on this list. In “Resistance is Futile”, Mr. Rigby is showing that he is as casual about the English Language as he is about his own health….”
Although all of the other letters actually liked the story, pseudoscience and political absurdity aside, Wally had to trash it.
“Not this time,” Mac said aloud, to Igor. He walked over to the phone, picked up the receiver and dialed his sister’s number.
“Hello?” Janice answered.
“We need to talk, and not just about your inability to read and critique fiction, Ms. Weasel.”
“Well, you finally figured that out, did you?”
“I had wondered why your attacks were so personal,” McKenzie added. “You know, honest critiques are one thing, but what did you hope to get out of the drivel you wrote?”
“I thought maybe, just maybe you would get the message that you could do so much better than those stories on the list. You have talent, McKenzie, not much, but some, and you are wasting it.”
“Because I like the stories I write, most of the people on the list like them, too. It would be a waste of my talent if I didn’t write, not what I write, Janice.” Mac considered hanging up the phone, but shook his head. “You’ve made your point, let it go.”
“And if I don’t?” she asked, sweetly.
“I will ruin you, online. I’m not a computer geek for nothing, Sis. Wally the Weasel is dead, okay?”
Janice sighed, then cleared her throat. “Okay, but you can’t blame me for trying. I love you, I really do, and I am worried about you.”
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Mansion and the Madame
The Rigby Narratives:
The Ultimate TG Experience
by McKenzie Rigby
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Seventeen -- The Mansion and the Madame
The storm raged on as bolts of lightning split the night sky. It was the only light available as McKenzie tried to locate his car before dashing to it through the pouring rain. Power looked to be out everywhere. Yes, McKenzie thought, another freaking Dark and Stormy Night. The wind tore at Mac's umbrella as he pushed off from the warehouse and ran for his car.
After three tries, the old clunker finally turned over. Hell, the car was only thirty years old, he thought as he listened to the engine knock and sputter as loud as the thunder. He eased the beast into drive and took off with a groan and a jerk, heading for home. He might not have power there, but at least he would have Igor for company.
The rain drove harder on the windshield and, as if to add to the ambiance of the night, McKenzie's wipers gave out. The blades, after all were original equipment. Mac cursed, but kept driving as he peered through the rain soaked glass.
How long he drove, he had no idea, but eventually he came to his turn, made it and drove for another couple of miles before he realized he wasn't on his street. From the look of things, he had driving far out into the countryside. He must have missed his street and left town, without knowing it. He banged his fist on the steering wheel in frustration, stepped on the brakes, and prepared to do a u-turn. That's when he heard a tire pop.
That was it. He managed to stop the car on the shoulder, before he lost it. What else could happen to him, tonight? The wind found the crack in the doorframe and blew a sheet of cold water right onto McKenzie's lap.
That did it. He pulled out his cell phone, dialed in his sister's number and pressed send long before he realized he had no service. Nothing. Not even a hint of a connection. He sighed, as he put the phone away, and buttoned up his greatcoat before opening the door on the rain.
The driver's side front tire had blown, and badly. There was nothing left of the rubber, from what he could see. McKenzie hurried to the back of the car, opened the trunk only to find an empty space where the spare should have been. Then, he remembered that the spare tire was already on the car. Cursing, her peered through the deluge, trying to find someplace where he could get some help.
There! On the top of a hill to his left, McKenzie spotted lights blazing against the darkness. The place looked far off, but he saw nothing else that even offered a glimmer of hope. He turned his collar up against the wind and rain, and started walking.
About an hour later, McKenzie found himself at the entrance to grounds of some stately mansion. He couldn't remember anyone rich living out this way, in the middle of nowhere, but there was no mistaking the size of the house. He found an intercom set into the gate and pressed the button.
"Yes?" a female voice crackled over the speaker.
"Uh, hi. My name is McKenzie Rigby, I'm a night watchman, and I was on my home when my car broke down. My cell phone is dead and I would really like to borrow a phone to call for help."
The gate swung open. McKenzie hurried up to the front door, which opened before he had the chance to knock. A girl with amazingly long legs and a huge bust line stood in the light wearing a black and white maid's uniform.
"Uh, wee, monsure, ze madam has been expecting you. Zis way, por favor."
"That has to be the worst French accent I have ever heard," McKenzie said with a laugh
"Oh, please, monsure, do not say such zings. I weel be horribly punished if I do not make ze good impression. Please, senor."
"Tiffany, what is taking you so long to show our guest inside?" an older woman's voice called out from down the hallway.
"I am letting him een now, Madam. We weel be right zere. This way, mein Herr? No, zis way, monsure. Follow me, ouá? No, I mean, sá? I don't know what I means anymore. Please, monsure, run for ze hills while you still can. I was einer-Einer Kleiner Nacht Musik, before I came to zis place, no, I means I was a freaking ball-not. I had, no I was uno macho dudette? Zis process zat the madam uses is most confabulating?"
"I'm sure it is, my dear, but the madam is waiting."
"Damn straight I am, Tiffany. Bring our guest in here this instant, and prepare a tray of our finest house de la chat, and some champagne."
"Ah, wee, wee, madman. I vill pour ze 1942 Virve Kickyou. Perhaps monsure would care for un cocktail de estrogen while he waits for ze appetizers?"
"No, a diet coke without the estrogen would be fine. How long will it take me to turn female? Will I get to wear a uniform like yours? What about the bust line? The bigger the better I always say."
"Ah, monsure makes ze joke wiz Tiffany. Zis way to ze madam."
McKenzie followed the girl down the hallway made of the finest cream-colored marble he had ever seen. The blocks were evenly colored, no discolorations or cracks anywhere. Erotic tapestries lined the walls and, after a couple of turns, Tiffany led the man into a formal sitting room.
A tall woman, perhaps in her early forties, reclined on the settee, as Tiffany flounced back down the hallway to fetch the refreshments.
"You are most welcome to my home, unfortunate stranger. I understand that your car is in need of repair. Please, sit down and make yourself at home. I will have my butler-slash-chauffer retrieve the vehicle in question and you should be on your way in a trice. Champagne?"
"Oh, yes, thanks," McKenzie said taking a delicate crystal glass from the tray now offered by Tiffany. He could see millions of bubbles rising to the top of glass as he took a sip. He downed the bubbly, and took another glass and waited. Nothing happened. No lengthening of his fingernails, no slimming down of his waist. Nothing. He drank the second glass, and still nothing happened. "A truly vintage year, Miss?"
"Oh, yes, I have been remiss. I am Helga Gatochateu, the owner of this house that serves so admirably now for your refuge from the storm. Oh, Brucie, Brucie, would you be a lamb and come here, dear?"
"You rang?" a tall lady in a chauffeur's gray uniform said.
"Brucie, please fetch Mr. Rigby's automobile and have it repaired for our guest, post haste."
"The car is already in the garage, Madam. It will be fully restored within the next couple of days."
"Excellent, you don't see many Falcons still on the road, these days. Oh, by all means, Mr. Rigby, try one of the appetizers, chef's special, you know."
On the tray that Tiffany now held under his nose, McKenzie found two styles of crackers, both covered with gray stuff. Half the crackers were piled high with the filling that now resembled a female breast. The other crackers had the gray stuff spread eagled to resemble a female pussy-cat, pussycat, I meant pussycat.
McKenzie sampled both of the crackers, quite a few times, but in spite of the tingling he felt in his fingers, nothing happened. "Very good," he mumbled, a little disappointed.
"Is something the matter, Mr. Rigby?" Madam asked, quietly.
"Not at all, this is excellent. Pá¢té?"
"Yes, a house blend, you must understand. Tiffany, my dear?"
"Yo, Big Mamma! Here I am. No, that wasn't right. Un Mille Pardone-somethings. Madman knows how terribly difficult zis ees for moi. What service can I be attending for you, Mistress?"
"Please take Mr. Rigby to his room, and make sure he has some dry clothes. Dinner will be served in the dining room at eight, promptly, Mr. Rigby. Since you will be sharing the hospitality of Chez Gatochateau for the next few days, I do wish you to be comfortable while your automobile is being restored."
"A tire blew, that's all, Mrs. Gatochateau. What is going on here, really?"
"Whatever do you mean? Nothing is going on except for the fact that you came to our door asking for shelter and succor in this storm and we have provided it. You think, perhaps, that we intend to use you as the subject of some foul experiment right out of the mad scientists' club? Perhaps you think we are about to turn you into a simpering female ditz like Tiffany there? Nothing could be further from the truth. We are not mad scientists or Domineering Dominatrixes here. A ditz like Tiffany has to be born, not created, and we have no desire to be anything but hospitable to you."
"My apologies, Madam, I have read too many stories lately about some luckless traveler captured and changed in a situation such as this. I will be ready for dinner, gladly, at eight."
"Yes, and while you are here a few rules, if you please. You must never sit in the Master's chair, and you must never go to the West Wing. The rest of the mansion is yours to explore. Please, be our guest."
Even without the dancing china and flatware, McKenzie found the mansion a fascinating place. But here he was, no matter what the lady had said, in the perfect setting for a TG story and no way of changing. The food and drinks didn't do it, although that estrogen cocktail might be promising, but…. Would he trust anything coming from Tiffany the ditz? There, down the hallway, he spotted the girl.
"Oh, Tiffany, my dear, I had some questions for you."
"Oh, no, non, monsieur senior. I am not Tiffany. I am called Brigitte. Tiffany is, how you say, my littermate? Nein, this is all wrong. Nyet. She is mein hermano, nome de plume, mein mister, she's my sister but she ain't heavy. Not on 97 point 6 on your FM Dial where Rock rocks you all day long. Is this not correct?"
"Brigitte, were you always a maid in this place?"
The girl laughed, a sparkling sound that sent shivers down McKenzie's spine. "Oh, non, senor. I am, how you say, un gato? A chat? Das Pussy Galore? No. Zis is ze home of ze famous Dr. Meow. No, I mean Dr. Merrow," she purred. "He changes me from ze housecat common, no, I mean…. I am Siamese if you don't please! Am I not ze perfect cat for zis, ze chateau le cats? Midnight, not a zound from ze pavement, I am warning you and yet, if you touch me you will know what happiness is and owe me lots of mice and rats and sprats and…. God said, let zere be cats to gobble ze rats and you must never go to the West Wing, which is right down zere."
McKenzie glanced in the direction she pointed and spotted a huge, metal door at the end of the corridor. A bronze plaque read "West Wing." "Ah yes, the West Wing, I see. Tell me there isn't a rose in a glass jar-or should I be expecting Martin Sheen instead?"
"Non, no, nein. No roses just mouses for ze catses. Catnip got your tongue? Youse better watch out, see. No admittance."
"Thanks for the advice, Brigitte. I really appreciate it."
As the girl wandered off, McKenzie glanced over his shoulder to see her enter a room, before he walked down the hall to the West Wing. When he got closer he could see small print on the bronze plaque. It read: Achtung! Verbotten! West Wing. Area Forbidden! Abandon All Hope all those who enter here. This means you, too, Mr. Rigby. Signed, The Management.
"Nein mister man, don't go near zat portcullis!" Still another maid shouted as McKenzie tried the door.
"Brigitte?"
"Nyet, silly rabbit. I am Simone, Brigitte is mein sister."
McKenzie opened the door, hurried inside and closed it before the girl had a chance to say anything else. Where did this Dr. Merrow find these girls? He looked around the room to find himself in what appeared to be a huge laboratory complete with Bunsen burners, and racks of chemicals of all sorts.
"Velcome to my la-boratory, Mr. Rigby," said a tall, round man who appeared, as if by magic from behind a bookcase. "I am Dr. Morouser, the master of this house, and quite a beast if you ask any of the girls. Do you mind if I smoke?" he asked before clouds of white smoke billowed from his ears. "Old joke, quite?"
"Very amusing, Doctor. What are you doing here? Those girls? This place? This really isn't a cat house, is it?"
Dr. Morouser laughed and shook his head. "Yes, it is, but perhaps not in the sense that you use the term. You see, I am a cat, or was. My human owner was a great man, and certified lunatic, but he developed a way to turn cats into humans, and vice versa. Why any cat would wish such a demotion is beyond me. I certainly didn't, but the process is one way for the most part. I can never be a cat again, so I have decided to continue my owner's great work. You may have met my girls?"
"Yes, I was wondering about them. So they were all cats?" McKenzie asked, impressed.
"No, they were all people-men to be exact, that came to this house seeking aid, such as yourself. My process turned them into cats, and back into the lovely ditzes you see now. More than that however, you will be the fourth ditz, which is quite important to me. You shall be Annabelle."
"Annabelle? Why not just Belle, since this whole set up is going that way?"
"That is the crux of the issue. Do you have any idea how rare it is that an appropriate male subject, such as yourself, comes to this house? Hardly ever happens, let me tell you. I have been trying for years to complete the set, and now, it is done. You see I have Brigitte, Simone and Tiffany, but I needed the 'A'."
"I still don't get it."
"Of course not, silly kitty. I need to spell out B A S T, you see. Bast, the ancient goddess of cats. When the set is complete I may finally have an offering to give the goddess to entice her into helping me. While my former owner, who is now Ms. Gatochateau by the way, created this process, even he was unable to reverse it. Only Bast, my goddess would be able to save me from this indecent human shape. Oh, to be feline again!"
"You're mad," McKenzie said and tried backing away from the man.
"Certifiably, my dear Mr. Rigby. Mad, I tell you, is so much fun. But not nearly as much fun as being a cat-as you will find out in a few moments. Cats are the true rulers of this planet, Mr. Rigby, and soon you will have a taste of the power, the freedom, that only cats have, until, of course, I change you back into a serving wench. As Annabelle, you will join your sisters is complete ditziness, and my work will be done."
"You fiend, you beast. How long do I have to be a cat before you turn me into a girl?"
"Yes, you are eager to begin," the doctor purred. "I wondered how real those stories of yours were, Mr. Rigby. So, you are not frightened of these changes? You really wish to be a girl?"
"Yes," McKenzie admitted. "I want to be a girl."
"Even knowing that you will mate with other males like an alley cat?"
"Yes, even that. I have always wanted to be a girl, but I could do without the cat bit. Couldn't you just turn me into a girl?"
"What is wrong with being a cat, Mr. Rigby? I would give my right foreleg to be a cat again, and you, you disdain my gift to you? Perhaps I was too hasty in choosing you to be Annabelle…."
"No, I love cats, I really do. So does Igor, he loves cats, and my little nephew David loves cats, and everyone I know loves cats. I'll adopt a litter of cats from the pound when I get to be Annabelle."
"Deal, but you keep them in your room, along with Igor. Now, then, you have eaten the cat food, as it were, and the changes will be taking place as soon as I give you this activator shot."
McKenzie hid under the bed, yowling, as the three girls tried their best to coax the cat out of hiding. Now a beautiful Siamese female, McKenzie had no desire to give up her position of power to be a simpering ditz. She fought, kicked and clawed at the girls when they came close.
Dr. Morouser sighed and told the girls to move out of the way. He kneeled down, stuck a long pole with a noose under the bed, and forced the rope around the cat's neck. He dragged McKenzie into the room, and threw a blanket over the still struggling cat.
"Happens every time," he said as he picked up the animal and carried her to the West Wing.
Annabelle woke up, took one look at her perfectly formed, voluptuous human body and screamed. "No, I'm a cat. I don't want to be human again. What have you done to me?" She cleared her throat, and said. "Hello? My name used to be McKenzie Rigby and now I am a perfectly formed, voluptuous female, and I'm not a ditz. I'm not a ditz." Now this, he thought, had possibilities. He would still rather be a cat, but perhaps he had better not mention this to Dr. Morouser.
"Here you are, my dear, Annabelle," the man said as he entered the room. "Lovely and perfectly formed. My procedure is getting better and better." He gave the new girl a skimpy, black, French maid's uniform.
"Why zank you, monsewer, eet is loverly. I weel wear zis forever."
"Such a pity you had to be a ditz with the rest of them, but such is life. Get dressed and report to the lab in the West Wing as soon as you do. There are signs on the wall if you forget the way."
"Oh, may we, mein senior. I vill be there pronto,"
As Dr. Morouser left the room McKenzie dressed, amazed that the skimpy little outfit could fit her so well. She patted her hair into place, checked herself in the mirror one last time and walked out into the hallway.
"This way to the West Wing," Tiffany said. "Dr. Morouser sent me to keep an eye on you."
"That was rather thoughtful of him," McKenzie responded, then looked the girl over. "You're not talking like a ditz?"
"Took you long enough to figure that out, sweetheart. The master is waiting."
"But why the act? What are you planning?"
Tiffany laughed. "Us? We poor pitiful little ditzes don't have enough of a brain between us to plan anything, don't you know, monsuer? We wouldn't do anything to spoil the master's plan to return to cathood."
"I see. Neither would I. Lead on, MacTiffany."
"You think I don't know Shakespeare, don't you? I know more than you think, Mac. I was an English teacher before my Desoto broke down outside. Say, did we ever win that war?"
"With Iraq? It's still going on."
"No, I meant with Korea. Don't you read the papers?" Tiffany asked.
"Oh, no, that one is still going on, too. It's the year 2003, you know."
"That's a load of bullshit! It's 1950. Looks like we got us a real ditz."
"What was that?" Brigitte said, joining the group.
"Annabelle thinks it's the year 2003," Tiffany said with a tinkling laugh.
"2003? It was 1972 when I came in here."
"What was 1972?" Simone asked. "It's 1996."
"Perhaps the three of you have been playing ditzes so long you never bothered to check notes," McKenzie suggested. "Hmmm, if this was the Outer Limits, we can't let Tiffany go outside. She might age 53 years in seconds. This presents a problem, but we need to address Dr. Morouser, first."
"I call him 'sweet cakes'," Simone admitted.
"He's my 'sweet tomcat'," Tiffany answered.
"I didn't want to know what you call him" McKenzie tried to explain. "I meant he is the first problem we need to solve."
"No problem at all," Tiffany said. "Not if you rub him right here on his jaw line. He loves that."
The door to the West Wing swung open as the girls approached. Dr. Morouser stood just inside, and moved aside to let the girls in. "How nice of you to come. Been expecting you and all that. Tea? Coffee?"
"No, thanks," McKenzie said. "Okay, kitty cat, this is where the world's biggest ditzes kick some mad scientist butt-starting with you."
"Oh, really. Brigitte, Annabelle, Simone and Tiffany! Give me a B, give me an A give me and S and T. Put them all together and what do have you got?"
Automatically, the four girls began doing cheers. "B A S T is Bast, Bast, Bast. Rock them, sock them and grind them to dust. Go Bast, go Bast, there's no messing with us."
A pale yellow glow formed in the middle of the room. An ancient presence woke in the Light and stared at her surroundings. Dr. Morouser could make out the shape of slanted, transparent eyes in the middle of the light. They turned to stare, with vertically slit pupils right at him.
"Who has woken me, and what is the meaning of this noise?" the goddess spoke, in a whisper. The girls stopped their cheers.
"Mistress, it is I. I, who once served you on the alters of Egypt have been trapped in this dreadful human form for centuries now. I beg a boon, one small boon for your faithful Amencatep."
"And are these all but brainless creatures with you?"
"These are a gift for you, Mistress. All four of these were once mortal men, changed by my arts to feline, then back into the brainless creatures you see now."
"That is very nice, I'm sure, my pet, but what do you expect me to do with them?"
"We wish to be cats, again, mistress," Brigitte said for the group.
"My talents are not great enough to change them again, Mistress," Dr. Morouser explained. "Naturally, whether you do anything with them is no concern of mine. I created them simply to call you, Mistress. I wish to, once more, regain my true shape as a cat."
"Amencatep, who do you think is responsible for you being in that shape? Would I let just anyone turn my alter cat into a human without my express consent? Silly cat," she said and chucked the man under his chin. "How long have you been human now?"
"Three thousand years and some. I've lost count."
"Very well, that seems like a long time for a punishment. You will have your wish, and be a cat, once more. As for these lovelies, I hardly think they are worthy of being cats. Mice, perhaps, but not cats."
"Mistress please," Annabelle said. "This person used us without any thought about our feelings or needs. He turned us from men into cats just to tease us with the feline shape before he turned us again into the creatures you see before you now. He ruined our lives, and we would wish compensation for that."
"Perfect example of a cat. Very well, Amencatep, return to your natural form."
As Dr. Morouser shrank back into a cat, the Goddess turned her attention on the girls. "There is great wealth here in the house, and the people that live here do so without needed compensation. You girl, you were a writer before you entered this house?"
"Yes, I was. I wrote about men turning into girls, and as you see it happened to me. I am not complaining about this shape, mistress. We who have known the joy of being cats, only wish to return to that shape to serve you."
"I see that you also own a dog?"
"Well, that was before I knew what it was to be a cat," Annabelle protested.
"I see, but dog people never make good cats. Return to your dog and your writing, Mr. Rigby, perhaps if your writing pleases me, in time I will see my way clear to make you a cat once more."
McKenzie found himself behind the wheel of his fully restored Ford Falcon convertible, driving for home. A moment ago he had been at that mansion. He sighed, and snapped his fingers. "What does a guy have to do to be TG'd these days?" he asked.
Interlude Seventeen
"What?" McKenzie asked as he sent off his latest chapter to the list. He looked down at Igor and sighed. "So? I like cats, too, you know. I never said I didn't. Besides, you were in the story, too. Weren't you?"
The dog whined for a moment. When MacKenzie ignored it, he whined again, louder and more forcefully.
Finally, McKenzie took the hint. With the usual groans and grunts, he stood up, stretched and grabbed Igor's leash. Where was David? The kid usually didn't miss walking to dog. McKenzie didn't want to do it himself-he didn't feel that good-but, if David was a no-show, he might not have a choice.
About to open the door, Mac thought he heard a knock. He opened the door to find a large, familiar looking cat sitting on the porch. "Amencatep?"
"Meow," the cat replied and strolled grandly into McKenzie's apartment as if it owned the place, which, as McKenzie thought about it, she might.
Igor was less than happy and began barking frenetically, but, in spite of Igor's barking, or maybe intentionally as the Amencatep refused to recognize the existence of such a lowly creature, the cat walked around the apartment, jumped up on the sofa and promptly fell asleep.
Igor's barking became even more frenetic, if that was possible. It was clear the dog wanted this interloper out.
"Me?" MacKenzie asked innocently. "I'm not moving that cat. If you want it out of here, Igor you'll have to do it yourself. Come on, that's a good dog. Get that cat. No? Then don't complain. It might be someone important.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A Well Heeled Spy
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Eighteen -- A Well Heeled Spy
Igor Batinoff was a small man; small of body, small of stature and small of mind. While he was still a young man, his size was not the result of immaturity.
It was the afternoon of his eighteenth birthday when Igor marched proudly into the Red Guard recruiting office in the basement of the Government Building on Independence Square, but he had barely started the pre-induction physical when he was pulled aside and given the news. He had failed the meet the physical requirements for the armed forces. His boots had three-inch heels designed to bring him up to the five-foot four-inch minimum for enlistment. They never noticed the two-inch lifts inside his boots.
Of course, he made certain to make a truly impressive scene, first demanding and then begging the recruiting officer to reconsider. Igor was a good actor and was very believable, not that he really wanted to enter the armed forces. Thus, at a time and place where it was expected-no required-that every young man join up, Igor was surprisingly unconcerned by his rejection. He had charted a different direction for his life.
Igor Batinoff's grades were not good enough to become a diplomat and his family was not sufficiently well ensconced in the Party hierarchy to provide him a sinecure within the corrupt Soviet government. Working in the family grocery for the rest of his life would involve manual labor that he outright despised, so Igor had decided that he was going to be a spy. Actually, he was not so much interested in being a spy as he was in being intimately involved with foreigners. That was where the money was. It had been a process of elimination.
With a remarkably sympathetic rejection letter in hand, especially considering the stoic nature of Soviet society in the nineteen-seventies, Igor gleefully headed across town to the nearest known secret office of the KGB. The letter would help prove his patriotism.
The buses were only an hour behind so, less than two hours after being rejected by the Soviet Armed Forces, a cock-sure Igor Batinoff stood at the corner of Lenin and Melnikaite Street, the wind whipping at his hair. Unlike most, he had let it grow long as a way of showing he was aware of the world outside the Motherland.
Before him was a dingy white monolithic stone structure. With no windows on the first two floors and a smooth gray cement frame surrounding the entrance, the six-story building that served as office space for the KGB looked more like a vault than an office building.
Taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders, Igor strutted boldly into the front door of the KGB offices in Minsk. Seated at a desk in the small, dingy lobby was a strikingly beautiful woman. Igor whistled appreciatively, forgetting for a moment why he had come, and looked for a nametag on her desk or blouse. All he could find was a small tag, just over her left breast, with the Cyrillic word "Receptionist."
Looking up from the papers on her desk, the dark haired, blue eyed beauty gave him a sultry smile and asked in tones that made it clear she was offering much more than directions, "How may I help you comrade?"
"I wish to become a spy."
"I do not understand, comrade. What about a spy and why would you come here?"
Igor wondered whether the beautiful woman before him was truly ignorant of the role of the bureaucracy for which she worked or if this was some sort of test. There was no nearly invisible smirk to suggest she had a secret. Her eyes gave no clue that there might be a razor sharp brain lurking behind them. His intense examination of her face gave no clues, but he decided that it really didn't matter. He had to act like it was a test, a test to see if he could make it past a simple secretary.
"I said I wish to report a spy." This was a statement that was much more likely to get me inside and I could correct the misunderstanding then. While he waited for her to react, Igor examined the lobby around him. She sat behind a large semicircular marble desk bracketed by the bright red flag of the Motherland. Behind her was a second semicircular shape, but taller, reaching halfway to the two floor high ceiling with jagged edges at the top so that it looked like a mountain. Behind that, on the left were two elevators and on the right, a pair of steel double doors with a sign reading "No Admittance" on each door. Two huge men in cheap black suits stood by the doors, apparently talking, but I could see them eyeing me carefully and I was willing to bet they were guards. Nowhere was there a directory.
"This is an import-export company. Why don't you make your report to the government?" she asked with innocent sincerity.
It was clear Igor was not going to be admitted without some work on his part. While he did not believe that a mere secretary could stop him, he was quite certain that two strong, well-trained guard, each at least twice his size, would have no trouble whatsoever. This was going to take some ingenuity.
"Spacebo Madam. It appears I am at the wrong location." With that, he turned and rapidly walked out the door before someone could stop him.
Quickly turning arbitrarily to the left onto Melnikaite Street, Igor quickly half walked, half trotted to the corner and turned the corner heading way from home on Lenin. As he turned, he checked to see if he was being followed. He was, but they didn't seem like in any hurry to catch him. It was almost like they were playing with him. This too had to be part of some test.
Without a second thought, Igor strode as swiftly as his short legs would permit towards the family market, only a couple of blocks away. If he had looked back, he would have seen the two men, laugh at turn into a bar. It was time for them to take a vodka break and do some serious haggling over the price of an illegal shipment of American blue jeans.
During his trip home, Igor considered his options while keeping a surreptitious eye on his back to see if he was still being tailed. Surely, if the front doors were that well protected, the back doors would be impregnable. He might be able to find a way in through the city sewer system, but even the city police avoided them. The sewers were mob territory and no one in their right mind went there. That left only one way in. Igor started gathering the equipment he would need. Tonight would be a busy night.
Igor was not afraid of hard work; he just recognized that there were better ways to obtain one's desires. To quote that Americanski capitalist pig, Barnum, "There's a sucker born every minute." Tonight's effort would be hard work, but if it got him into the building, it would be worth it.
Across Lenin Street from the KGB office was a taller building, the offices of several real Import-Export companies and one business I was familiar with through my family's business. The People's Farm Cooperative provided all the fruits and vegetables as his family's bribes could obtain. Igor was a familiar sight there as he had come often with his father, who still hoped the younger Batinoff would be an asset to the family business.
"Good afternoon Olga," he greeted the plump matronly woman at the reception desk. Igor couldn't help but make unflattering comparisons to the beauty at the KGB office. "You know where I'm going," he added as he jerked a thumb at the elevators.
"Don't forget to sign in…." But Igor had already bolted into the elevator and the doors were closing. He almost didn't get his bag inside before the doors closed.
Olga just shrugged and moved on to the next person coming in the door. Instead of stopping at the third floor where the Coop was, Igor kept going to the eighth and top floor. Exiting the elevator, Igor scrambled around the corner to the stairway and climbed the last flight to the roof. The bag was heavy and he almost dropped it when it bumped against the door to the roof, but he got it threw and let it clatter to the tarred surface as soon as the door closed. Sliding to the tar, Igor sat with his feet stretched out before him. After catching his breath, he grabbed a sandwich and a contraband bottle of Coke. It would be a long wait until dark.
About six o'clock, clouds began to roll in making the rooftop a dusky, shadowless gloom, perfect for what Igor had in mind. Pulling a heavy rope, a light rope and a heavy metal hook from his bag, Igor fastened on end of the heavy rope around a chimney. Then he took the light rope and looped it through a large eyelet he'd welded to the end of the hook and pulled it half way through. One end of the thin rope was tied to the loose end of the thick rope and the other end was tied to a conveniently located plumbing vent.
Walking to the edge of the roof, Igor looked over the low escarpment, across the street and two stories down was the flat roof of the KGB building. Near the center of it's roof was his goal, a small shed-like structure-the roof access.
Stepping back from the edge, Igor gripped the rope about six feet from the edge. Starting slowly and then speeding up, he swung the hook around his head. When the speed was great enough that he could barely control it, he let it fly. The hook clattered on the KGB building roof and Igor cheered. Then he started carefully pulling it closer. It caught at the edge of the roof and he jerked it to make certain it was firmly attached-and it slid off, following an arcing decent until it hit the building on which he was standing. There was the sound of broken glass as it hit, followed by the rich sounds of cursing.
Igor yanked on the rope, pulling it back up-and got rope burn when the hook caught. Cursing again, he lowered the rope and shook it as he pulled up. Luckily, this time it came free. Thirteen tries later, a very tired Igor Batinoff grunted in muted approval when the hook finally caught on the roof of the KGB building's roof access.
Moving slowly, and not just because he was being careful, Igor slowly pulled the rope through the eyelet on the far hook, watching the heavy rope play out over the edge of the roof. In the dim light, it looked like some huge snake, stretching out into the air, searching for the sent of its prey.
There was a dicey moment when the tip of the thick rope finally made it to the hook and jammed. Several gentle tugs later, Igor was cursing again. He really did not wish to start over again. Finally, with a deep sigh of frustration, Igor gave a hard yank and prayed to his mother's Christian god that it would work.
It did.
Pulling the rest of the thick rope through the eyelet was gratefully uneventful. As soon as he could reach it on its return trip, Igor grabbed it and pulled it as tight as he could before fastening it to the roof. Then, returning to his bag, Igor pulled out a strange contraption of straps and hooks. One end, Igor strapped around his chest as tightly as he could. The other end was a thickly braided piece of leather that looped over the rope stretched tautly above him.
Igor stepped up to the edge of the roof. Everything else had been just a buildup to what was to come next. This would be what his mother would call "a leap of faith." He stood there for at least half an hour debating whether he really wanted to do this. Did he really want to be James Bondsky? Just how badly did he want to be a spy? How much more work was what he was doing now than all the work in the family business he so wanted to avoid?
Eventually, he stepped off into space.
Eyes closed tight, Igor felt the wind blowing past his face as he slid down and across. He was going to make it. Oh how he looked forward to seeing the faces of the KGB folks when he sat behind their leader's desk when he came in the next morning. Surely they would have to accept him if he could pull it off.
The wind was slowing. He must be near the end. It was time to unbuckle and drop to the roof of the KGB building.
Igor opened his eyes and looked down-six floors to the ground. He hadn't made it. He was hanging in the air about ten feet short of the building.
-=-=-=-=-
He was still hanging there two hours later when dawn broke and both vehicle and pedestrian traffic started to pick up. Igor had tried everything he could think of to make it those last ten feet. When he reached up to pull at the rope, he belatedly realized that he had made the loop he was hanging from too long and so could not reach it. He had tried to rock forward, but he had apparently not pulled the rope taut enough and he was at the bottom of a small valley. Even when he was able to rock forward forcefully enough to move forward a foot or so, he immediately slid back.
Dejected and exhausted, too tired even to curse, Igor hung there as the sun advanced through the sky. It was only as he hung there that he realized exactly how foolish he had been. The KGB would not make a spy out of a failure like him. If they wanted him, they would have come to him, not waited for him to prove himself with some hair-brained scheme.
Around 10 AM Igor began to wonder why he was still hanging there. Were they playing with him like a cat with a mouse, waiting to see what he would do next, or was it possible that no one had yet looked up and seen him? Papa had always said, "Why look up to see if the sky is still there? It always is." Maybe the KGB felt that way too. Maybe.
His thoughts were disrupted when someone opened the door to the roof of the KGB building. They were carrying a rope and they brought it directly to the edge of the building nearest Igor. Clearly they had known he was there.
"Catch this," a gruff voice called out as the man on the roof threw the rope at Igor.
Igor caught it the first time, ruefully thinking that it would have been nicer if things had gone that well a bit earlier in this project. As soon as Igor had wrapped the rope around his waist and tied it in front, the man pulled him forward. Once he was over the building, the man pulled him low enough that he could reach the heavy rope Igor had been hanging from and cut it. Igor fell unceremoniously to the surface of the roof.
A moment later, Igor was standing, dancing on the tips of his toes. The man grabbed him by the back of his harness and led him toward the roof access door as if he were a bag of groceries.
-=-=-=-=-
Except for the soft, rich, overstuffed leather furniture, the office looked much like what Igor had learned to accept as "comrade bureaucrat" modern; bookcases filled to overflowing, an eclectic array of pictures from foreign artists to tractors. From behind the high-backed executive chair, currently facing out the window toward the building from which I had approached, a female voice spoke. "You are either a very ingenious man or a total fool. I am betting on the latter, but why don't you tell me what you were trying to do and answer my question?"
"I wanted to work for your organization, for the KGB. I wanted to be a spy. The receptionist wouldn't let me in to apply, so I had to find a way to get past her, to get your attention."
"Actually, you had your interview and were rejected." The chair turned around to reveal the "receptionist" with which Igor had spoken the day before.
Standing, she walked slowly over him. Igor considered running from the office in embarrassment, but a brief shake from the huge man behind him, who still had a firm grip on his harness, convinced him to remain where he was.
"Well Ivan, I guess we have another fool," she said with a smirk to the huge man as she walked up to Igor.
"I am not a fool. I may not have succeeded, but that was only because I had limited resources. With the resources and knowledge of the KGB behind me, how could I possibly fail?"
Igor's voice sounded self-assured, but the way his voice cracked gave him away. Still, the woman was impressed. This little man, shorter and slighter than she, was showing signs of bravado. Most people faced with the full might of the KGB quickly withered into quivering bowls of blubber. She examined the small man carefully, reconsidering her initial assessment.
"How did you plan on getting inside once you made it to our roof?"
"I would have either picked the lock or chiseled the hinges off."
"And then what did you plan to do, my impetuous little one?"
"I planned to enter your office, grab a seat in that big chair of yours and wait for you to come in to work."
"Thereby showing me how persistent and ingenious you are, no doubt," she said with a genuine smile. "Did you realize that I would have to kill you on the off chance that you might have read some top secret document?"
"I…I…No." Igor admitted, hanging his head in shame.
The woman's eyes glared into Igor, examining him much as if he were a lab rat.
"Well, we have need of volunteers for our research teams," she mused aloud. Then, in a totally unexpected change of topic, she ordered Igor to cry.
"What?"
"Cry. Right now. Cry."
"But…"
"Cry!"
Igor cried. Deep stomach wrenching sobs tore from his throat.
"Stop!"
Igor stopped crying as if a faucet had been abruptly turned off. It looked like the acting skills he had practiced in front of the mirror in his bedroom had paid off.
"Good. Very good. Perhaps we can use you after all. Ivan, bring him to Professor Mengal. Take him to the lab. Tell the good doctor that this is to be his best work ever." With that she abruptly turned and returned to her desk, ignoring the two men as she examined the papers on her desk.
-=-=-=-=-
The room Ivan dragged Igor into might as well have been a mad scientist's dungeon lair. Cinderblock and tile replaced the traditional rough-hewed stone, but the strange devices giving off sparks, the human-sized cages off to one corner and the wrinkled, bent and wild-haired man examining Igor like some bug about to be dissected made up for the absence of stone.
Ivan stood holding Igor by the collar so that his feet continued to dangle in the air. Igor couldn't be sure, since the way he was being held it was hard to get anything more than a glimpse of Ivan's face, but it seemed like the huge man was afraid of the frail old man with the wild hair.
On the way Ivan had actually warmed up a bit since he knew Igor was going to be a part of the agency and explained that Dr. Batinoff was a refugee from Germany who had earned a reputation as a researcher and experimenter during World War II. Among other things, he had developed and ran the agency's development services for special talents.
The tableau remained unchanged for at least five minutes while the old man worked at something, but Igor couldn't make out what. Finally, he looked up and glared myopically at the intruders in his dungeon.
"Vaat do you vant?" It was the strongest German accent Igor had ever heard.
"Control says this is to be your best work ever," Ivan explained with a gentle shake to indicate he meant Igor.
"Fine. Strap him down dere," the old man pointed to a gurney.
As Ivan strapped the small man down, "Are dere any limitations?" Igor was beginning to understand the words behind the accent.
"Control wants a functioning agent. You can hurt him, but he needs to remain sane."
"Fine. Leave me. Come back in six hours. He vill need several veeks of recovery. That vill be your problem. I vill not ignore mine researches for longer dan necessary."
Ivan nodded and left very quickly.
"Who are you and what are you going to do to me?"
"Who I am is of no concern. You may call me Dr. Batinoff, eh? Und as to vhat I am going to do, vhy I am going to make you into a functional agent of course." The laughter that followed was the scariest thing Igor had ever heard.
Batinoff ignored all further efforts by Igor to find out what was going to happen. It was as if he was an inanimate object as the old man roughly shoved hoses up his nose and placed a shower cap over his head and covering his eyes before wheeling the gurney under a series of showerheads. A valve squealed from disuse as it turned and a red-yellow slime began oozing out and dripping down onto Igor.
It burned!
Igor struggled and screamed until a drop landed in his mouth, then he just struggled to get loose before he ran out of breath. After a minute, he realized that there was fresh air blowing in through the hosed that had been jammed up his nose, but by then every movement was like a demented dentist was running a sander across an unexposed nerve and he was trying very hard to avoid breathing, let alone any other movement.
He might have passed out, he wasn't sure, but then his world quickly became a lot cooler. Risking getting burned again, he opened his mouth-and tasted water. Whatever had burned him was being washed off. Igor was proud of himself. He had not revealed any information. Maybe now the torture would end and he would be told of his duties as a member of the KGB.
He could see a shape approach through the translucent shower cap and assumed it was Batinoff. The hoses here yanked out of his nose, causing him to jerk in pain and then again when his movement caused even more pain to his raw and tender skin. A moment later it was confirmed when the cap was ripped off his face. Hair sprayed over his face, but he could see Battinoff standing before him and smiling. This time, he limited his movement to slowly and cautiously pursing his lips and blowing the hair out of his eyes.
"Vell, that takes care of the hair und skin," Batinoff muttered to himself as he wheeled the gurney to another corner of the lab. This section looked like a surgical suite. Batinoff puttered a round a bit, before turning back to Igor.
"You vill not be avake for dis part, vhich detracts from my enjoyment. To make up for dat, I vill tell you vhat is about to happen and imagine you're nightmares as you sleep.
"Once I put you under anesthesia, I vill complete several surgical procedures. Specifically, I vill shave your nose und larynx. Den I vill relocate some of your fat cells. Finally, I vill give you un injection to help fix you in your new form.
The mask slid over Igor's face. He tried to hold off breathing as long as he could, but it wasn't long enough. Eventually, the need to breathe was stronger than his will. As he took his first ragged gasp and inhaled the acrid gas, Batinoff added one last comment. The last thing Igor heard before Batinoff's maniacal laugh faded away with his consciousness was, "If it is of any comfort to you, I had much practice during the var vhile I vas at Auscvitz. Vith your new genitals, you vill make a beautiful Mata Hari. You vill especially like the vay you valk in heels after I shorten de tendons in your legs.
And then, Batinoff did the scariest thing he possibly could have done. He laughed. "Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha."
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude Eighteen
McKenzie opened his e-mail program. The first message was from his nemesis, the Weasel. He considered deleting it unread, but instead decided it was better to know what the evil creature was up to. The letter read, simply,
I need your help from Wally the Weasel.
My brother is in horrible health, and I thought that if I could convince him give up writing for this list and take care of himself, for a change, I could actually save him from almost certain death. He needs to be out walking, not tied to a computer and vegetating.
To all of the good readers on the TG-TF list. I know most of you have complained bitterly about my nitpicking and trashing every story put out by McKenzie Rigby, but I had a good reason. You see, Mac is my brother, and, in real life I am actually his sister, Janice.
I admit that I really do like my brother's stories, but if something isn't done, and now, he may not be around much longer to write them, so I am asking everyone on this list, to please, please help me get Mac to watch his health, not a computer monitor.
Thank you,
Janice Corbin-Rigby
-=-=-=-=-
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER NINETEEN
McKenzie, the Giant Killer
as told to
Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Nineteen -- McKenzie, the Giant Killer
Once upon a time, little Jack Rigby skipped along the path that led from his mother's small cottage, to the village. He stopped skipping long enough to collect the family's old cow, Betsy. He tied a long rope around the cow's neck and led her out of the pasture.
Old Betsy, no matter how hard Jack tried, refused to skip. In fact, she refused to do anything but plod along much as an old cow would. She did pause every now and again to nibble at grass along the way, and to fertilize the path.
Over hills, through dales and down into the valley, Jack lead his faithful cow. He tried hard not to think of the terrible fate that awaited Old Betsy at journey's end. He had grown up with Betsy as almost a member of the family, and the thought of selling her at the fair was hard on the lad. After all those years of service, and gallons of milk given, it was even harder for Jack to think of Betsy going to a butcher, or to some fast food chain for hamburgers.
"Where are you going, my fine lad?" a man, in brightly colored clothing asked as Jack crested the top of another hill. "I am Tom Busch."
"To sell my cow, Old Betsy, at the fair," Jack answered politely, and openly in the way small boys do, especially those that are sent out on their own without their mothers.
"And what are you going to do with the money you get for Old Betsy?" asked the man, remembering himself what it was like to be a small boy out alone, without his mother.
"Why I am going to buy a new cow-a young cow to take Old Betsy's place. I will call her Betsy, until she gets old," Jack said, solemnly.
"An excellent plan, my little man, have a good day at the fair."
Little Jack stared at the man, and frowned. "Aren't you going to offer me something in trade for old Betsy?"
"Sorry, my lad, but I have nothing to trade for Old Betsy, and I make it a point never to trade with little boys, either. The last time I did, I was sued by his mother for everything I owned."
"Oh, I'm sorry, mister. Would you like some milk?" Jack asked.
"Why thank you very much, my lad."
Jack asked Old Betsy for a little more milk for the man who had nothing, and the cow gave him a drink. "There, we had better get on to the fair."
"Go on, with my blessing, and here," he said reaching inside his tunic for a small bag. "To repay your generosity, have these. They are magic beans. Plant them at Midnight on the night of the full moon and you will get a surprise beyond compare. But remember, never tell the recipe to anyone, not even your dog."
"Thank you," Jack said and tucked the beans inside his shirt. "But I don't have a dog, just this cow."
"Just as well, lying deceitful creatures, dogs."
Little Jack walked on, whistling instead of skipping since he now had the beans and the cow.
A little while later, on the outskirts of the village, Jack met an even stranger individual. This one, who looked like a six-foot tall, two legged fox, walked up to him.
"I say, my good fellow, you wouldn't have seen anything of a boy made of wood, have you?"
Jack shook his head. "I've only seen a man who had nothing but magic beans. Do you have anything to trade for Old Betsy here?"
"I may be a carnivore, young man, but I have better things to do with my time than take care of a cow. I…" The fox turned in disgust as a little wooden boy ran right by them. "Now look what you made me do. I've been waiting for that puppet for ages. Here," he said and reached into his shirt for a large bag. "Take this for your trouble, boy, and good luck."
Jack looked inside the bag and made a face. "What are they?"
"Magic cow patties. Plant them at Midnight on the first night of the Full Moon and you will get an outstanding surprise. Go on with you, now." The fox ran after the little wooden boy. "Hey, Pinnochio, over here."
Jack thought better of putting this bag in his shirt, and tossed it aside. He led Old Betsy right to the center of the village.
"Moo."
Jack turned around to see a long line of cows, both young and old following him and Old Betsy. Thinking ahead, something that only fairy tale boys do, Jack walked down the line of cows, selected the best looking bull, and cow, then tied them to Old Betsy. He sold the rest of the herd for a huge bag of gold, and walked his three animals back toward his mother's cottage.
"I bet with this much gold we could move to a de-lux apartment in the sky," he said to Old Betsy. The cow shook her head, as old cows do, and followed behind the boy who was trudging now under the weight of all the gold.
Jack's mother, Beatrice Rigby, stood outside the cottage waiting for her son to come home. Imagine her surprise when she saw that the boy had come home with three cows, and a huge bag.
"Look, Mama, I've got gold and lots of it," Jack said and opened the bag for his mother's inspection.
"Bah, worthless stuff, gold. What were you thinking?"
"I thought we could move to the hills of Beverly with movie stars and swimming pools, and TV's and computers and name brand clothes."
"Greedy brat. Did you at least get the magic beans?"
"Yes, mother," Jack said, and quickly handed over the bag. "The man said to plant them at midnight on the night of the full moon. The fox that gave me the magic cow patties said the first night, but this guy didn't get specific."
"Go inside, boy. Your gruel is almost done."
Jack looked longingly at the bag of gold that his mother tossed aside. "Mother, may I buy my own fast food restaurant?"
"Of course not, boy. We're in the middle of a fairy tale not the Wall Street Journal. Go inside."
"Stupid fairies," Jack muttered as he wandered inside to get his gruel.
At eleven-fifty on the first night of the full moon, Jack leaned on the windowsill staring up into the starry night sky. The moon hung above the cottage like a big pizza pie, and a hush seemed to fall all over the world.
There, he saw the little star burning bright blue. The wishing star, he thought. "Little star, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."
A comet seemed to break off from the star and traveled in a direct line from the star to Jack's window. A large and lovely lady, dressed all in blue, appeared at the window. She floated inside, waving what appeared to be a magic wand.
"There you are, my dearest boy, soon you will have your heart's desire and be a real boy."
Jack looked down at himself. "I am a real boy, lady, what are you talking about?"
The blue fairy blinked a few times. "You are not Pinnochio, where does the woodcutter live?"
"Oh, you want the wood boy. Two cottages down that way. But do I get my wish?"
The fairy tapped Jack on the top of his tousled head. "You, too, will have your heart's desire, Little Jack."
He looked across the way, and stared up at the fairy. "Where is it? I want my own all night fast food restaurant."
She laughed, with a sound of silver bells tinkling. "Silly boy, this is a fairy tale, not the Wall Street Journal." With that, she vanished, in search of the wood boy.
"Stupid fairy," Jack muttered as his mother emerged from her bedroom still wearing a nightdress and nightcap.
A two legged mouse, along with a two legged dog and a duck walked up to Jack. "Say, Jack," said the mouse with a high-pitched laugh. "Have you planted those magic beans yet?"
Jack shook his head, and whispered into the mouse's ear. "Not in front of the d-o-g, you know. Lying, deceitful creatures, dogs."
"Oh, I didn't know that," the mouse said and studied his companion as if for the first time. He laughed again.
"We'll just be going."
Once the interlopers had gone, Jack followed his mother outside. He knelt down in the garden, dug a hole with his little spade, and waited until his new designer watch, with built in PDA beeped midnight. Jack's mother dropped the beans, one by one, into the hole, and Jack covered them up.
As his mother returned to her bedroom, Jack stared up into the night sky. "This isn't my heart's desire, you stupid fairies. I want food, real food, meats and lots of dairy products, I'm a growing boy here."
"Hush, Jack," his mother called out. "Worthless stuff, meat. If gruel every day was good enough for your father and his father before him, it's good enough for you."
"Yes, mother," Jack said with a sigh, and cuddled down in bed for the rest of the night.
Imagine Jack's surprise, the next morning, when he walked outside to find a beanstalk growing miles into the morning sky. He stared up and up and up and couldn't see the end of it. "I'd better go milk the cows and tend to the farm," Jack said to the morning sky. "Before my mom sees that and makes me climb it."
"Hold it right there, sonny boy, and where do you think you're going?" his mother said from behind.
"To milk and feed the cows, and tend the farm, Mother."
"That can wait. First you need to climb this beanstalk and bring back any magical treasures you find."
"What if there's this huge ogre up there that wants to grind my bones to make his bread?" Jack countered.
"Then you will just have to outwit him, and steal his treasures anyway. How hard can it be for a bright kid like you to outwit an ogre? Move it."
"But I'll be days and days. Okay, I'm going, I'm going," Jack grumbled as he started to climb the beanstalk.
As soon as he had taken his first couple of pulls up the thick trunk, Jack found the trunk moving upward. He held on, riding the trunk of the huge vine as the beanstalk grew taller.
After a while, he could see clouds over his head. Soon enough, the beanstalk grew right through the clouds, and stopped. "Everyone off!" a voice rustled through the leaves. "This stop for giants, trolls and ogres."
"What about magical treasures?" Jack asked the voice of the beanstalk.
"Get real, kiddo, there aren't any. You should have bought yourself a chain of fast food restaurants with that gold while you had the chance."
"Stupid fairies," Jack yelled out as he dropped off the beanstalk and landed on solid ground, even though it was covered in rolling clouds. He waded through the clouds for a bit, and there, in the distance, he saw a shimmering palace just waiting for a bright little boy like him to enter and search for magical treasures.
As Jack walked closer to the building he could see that it was, indeed, a huge palace painted a brilliant white from the columns that decorated the front entrance, to the white shades covering the windows. The entire structure seemed huge, as if designed for people twenty times his size.
Jack struggled to climb up the steps to the front door, which stood open as if to further invite him inside. As he passed through the door he halfway expected to see a sign pointing him in the right direction, but no such luck.
Thunderous booms could be heard from outside. Startled, Jack ducked for cover in a huge coat closet, hiding underneath a huge coat. Soon, a little man, hardly bigger than Jack himself boomed into the hallway. The little man was wearing oversized cowboy boots and a twenty gallon white hat that was way too big for his head.
"Fee Feye Fo Foy, I smell the blood of a fairy tale boy," the little man said in a voice that rumbled through the halls.
"So?" Jack said, and stepped out of the closet. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Well, I'm George the Giant, from Texas, but my friends call me Dubya."
"You're a giant?" Jack asked, then broke out laughing.
"That's cause I look so big on TV. I've been out hunting terrorists in the Kingdoms of Passaic, Piscataway and Patuxent. Did the I's last week and next week I'll be invading the Kingdoms of Ohio, Omaha and Oklahoma where the wind comes whistling down the plain. Them terrorists is tricky birds and you never know where they will turn up next."
"What do you do with the terrorists when you catch them?" Jack asked.
"I turn them into harmless things, things I can use around the house. Would you like to see my new Osama bin Ladle?"
"No, my mother sent me here to get some magical treasures since she didn't want me to buy that chain of fast food restaurants with the gold I earned yesterday."
"Oh, right, you're that kid. Go on, there's got to be a few around here somewhere. If you can find them, you can take them."
"Thanks, Mr. George." Little Jack skipped down the hallway and wandered into the first open room he found.
A tall, balding man stood up from an overstuffed chair and Jack entered the room. "Well, hello little boy. I'm Vice-Giant Bruce, and I just love little boys."
"This isn't that kind of a fairy story, mister. Get out of here." Jack commanded.
The man vanished, and in his place stood another tall, and-this time-rather distinguished looking gentleman. "You found me. I am Vice-Giant Don, and that was my undisclosed location."
"Sorry, Mr. Don. Have you seen any magical treasures around here."
"Just down the hall to your right should be a few. Good luck." With that, Vice-Giant Don turned into a smallish, and rather plump lady. She patted her hair into place. "Don't tell anyone where I am."
"Uh, okay Ms. Dawn." Jack turned and left the room.
Following the corridor a little further, he heard a harsh male voice singing out of tune. "We can still win the war, the great Satan will be no more. We can still win the war, the great Satan will be no more, rah rah."
Jack peeked inside the room and saw a harp, made out of gold, apparently playing and singing by itself. In fact, he could see a little face on the pedestal of the harp; complete with a big bushy mustache that was doing the singing.
"A magical treasure," Jack said. "I'm Jack, the little boy who will rescue you from the awful palace. I'm going to take you home with me."
"I am Sadone Harpstring," the instrument sang out. "I sing of a time when I was once a great ruler, Emperor of all I surveyed, until the giants came and took away my land, and my precious Ku-wait."
"Ku-wait?"
"Yes, my hen that laid the golden eggs. The first George the Giant took Ku-wait away from me, and his son, the second George the Giant came and took everything else. He said that I was a terrorist; can you believe that?
Lying, deceitful creatures, giants."
"I thought that was dogs," Jack answered.
"Them, too. If you really can rescue me from this horrible White Palace, please do not forget my darling Ku-wait."
"I'll go find her and I will be right back," Jack said.
Now where would he find a hen in a palace this size, Jack wondered as he started walking. Usually people kept hens in henhouses outside, but would George keep a valuable golden egg laying hen outside where a fox could get it, that is if there were foxes up on this cloud, or maybe there would be thieves, not little boys who have to find magical treasures for their mothers, but real ugly big thieves that would roast the hen. Wow, he thought, that was a long sentence, but he shrugged it off, as little boys who never have studied grammar are wont to do.
"Hey, are you Jack?"
Jack turned around and spotted a face in a mirror hanging up on the wall.
"That's me. Have you seen Ku-wait, the hen?"
"No, but the giant is looking for you. You'd better hide or be eaten as an afternoon snack."
"But George is such a little giant. I bet I could beat him up."
"Not George, his big big big big brother, Jeb."
"Fee Fi Fo Foy, I'm looking for a lost little boy," boomed a voice that actually sounded gigantic.
A panel clicked open beside the mirror. Jack ducked through it, and pushed the panel closed before the real giant could find him.
Lights flickered on to show Jack a large dressing room. A girl's dressing room, he thought from the dresses and things hanging in the open wardrobe, and the thousands of brushes, hand mirrors and jars that lined the gold trimmed, white French provincial vanity.
"Over here," said a voice from the vanity. It was male, but…
Jack walked over and picked up a glowing magic mirror.
"Hey, Jack, I've got just the thing for you to hide you from the giant, too. I'm going to make you-fabulous!"
"Fabulous? Me? Why?"
"Jeb the Giant is looking for a dorky little boy, not a vision of loveliness that I will create. You can take your magical treasures and waltz out of here and neither giant will be the wiser. Any more smart-ass questions? Good, didn't think so. Now, sit down and hush up."
"Yes, sir-madam-sir," Jack whined, but still he sat down in front of the mirror. Instantly the brush and comb floated up and tackled his hair. With each stroke of the brush, Jack's hair grew longer; the combing made it more luxurious and shining. Soon enough spritz bottles spritzed, and bottles of lotion, splatted all over Jack's hair.
Creams applied themselves to Jack's face, while tweezers plucked at the boy's eyebrows. With a touch of lipstick, and blush, the chair moved back. Jack stared at the mirror in disbelief. There, indeed, sat a vision of loveliness, from his golden blonde tresses down to his gorgeous face and bright blue eyes.
"I look like a girl!" Jack shouted.
"Well, duh, sweetheart. You are a girl. Stand up."
Jack stood up as invisible hands pulled his clothes off. A long, light blue dress, flew over from the wardrobe, and boyish undergarments were replaced with feminine frills. Jack lifted up his arms as the dress settled down over his head and on his shoulders.
"Fabulous!" the voice cried out in elation.
Jack shook his head. "For a girl, but I'm a boy."
"If you stay a boy you won't live to see another day, Jacki. This way, you can go home to your mother."
"But how do I change back?"
"Take the clothes with you, doll. They were made just for you, and the make up and the brushes and combs. You will need them in your new life."
A small pink overnight case flew over to the vanity as all the articles packed themselves inside. A moment later, the mirror shrank down to fit as well. Jacki sighed as she picked up the case, and walked back out into the hallway.
A man, twenty feet tall if he was an inch, stood in the hallway moving his head this way and that. "Say, little girl, have you seen a dorky little boy named Jack?"
"No, why, Mr. Giant, sir. Should I give him a message if I do see him?"
"Tell him that Jeb the Giant is looking for him. That's the dear."
"Oh, by the way, Mr. Giant, sir, have you seen Ku-wait the hen?"
"Oh, sure. Going to feed her, are you? Go down that hallway there to the end, turn left then count five doors down on the right to the indoor henhouse. Whatever you do, don't let the fox in."
Jacki followed directions, and it was hard to miss the right door since the six foot tall, two legged fox stood outside it. Wearing the same brightly colored clothes as the day before, the fox gave the little girl a huge grin.
"Well, what a lovely little lady you are, sweetie. What's your name?"
"Jacki," she said with a frown. "Look, I know you're the fox, and that you're trying to get into that henhouse. It's not going to happen, so back off."
"Big talk from such a little lady."
"Go chase wooden boys," Jacki said. As the fox sputtered in surprise, she slipped through the door and slammed it on his face.
Inside, Jacki found a large, white, two legged rabbit, standing in the middle of a dozen nests, each nest held a hen, and each hen looked identical to the next, the same white feathers, and yellow legs and feet.
"Hello, Mr. Rabbit, I'm looking for Ku-wait the hen," Jacki said.
"That's very nice, little girl, but I'm the Easter Bunny, and I'm waiting for my eggs. If these hens have names, I didn't know it. Ku-wait?"
None of the hens responded to the name. Each of them clucked and strained and produced a multicolored egg for Easter. Except one, Jacki noted, and walked over to the hen that laid the golden egg. He watched as the hen moved aside. A geyser of black liquid bubbled up from the egg. "Ku-wait," the girl said and named the hen. He picked the bird up and carried her back to the room with Sadone the harp.
The Easter Bunny picked up the odd egg, and made a face. What little kid would want just a plain gold egg-one that spewed out black junk?
"Ku-wait, my precious Ku-wait," the harp sang out as Jacki walked into the room still carrying the bird.
With the best wishes of the Giant brothers, little Jacki left the castle with her hen and harp, and rode the beanstalk back down to ground level.
"Jack? Jacki?" Jacki's Mom asked, stunned at the sight of her new little girl.
Jacki handed over the hen and the harp then opened her carrying case. She took the mirror out. "Okay, mirror. I'm out of the castle, turn me back to me, please."
"I can't do it," the mirror said. "I can't unmake perfection, little lady. You are fabulous, as I promised, learn to love it!"
And she did. Jacki used the golden eggs to buy her own franchised fast food chain, because she knew that she would grow up to be a beautiful and respected CEO, and that people would really listen to her ideas and opinions even though she was a girl. After all, anything can happen in a fairy tale.
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude Nineteen
Igor growled as McKenzie sent his latest story to the web. The man looked down at the dog. "What? Oh, I know I was a bit curt with dogs in that story but it had nothing to do with you. Really."
Growling some more, Igor turned his back on McKenzie and left the room.
"Lying, deceitful creatures, dogs," McKenzie muttered and shook his head. "The cat will be his friend. She'll purr and sit in my lap, unlike that fickle dog, Igor," McKenzie thought.
Standing and stretching, McKenzie absently rubbed at the dull pain in the area of his chest and left arm as he looked for Amen-whatzits. McKenzie found the cat curled up on the ledge just below the awning window almost five feet above the couch.
"How the hell did you get up there, cat?" Igor more actively ignored McKenzie, if that was possible.
"Come-ere fur ball. Come to Poppa McKenzie and get yourself some good rubbin'," McKenzie cajoled, but the cat, unsurprisingly, ignored him.
"Just like a cat," McKenzie groused. "Make me come to you."
Turning to Igor, McKenzie made one last offer. "How about it Igor? Last chance to make up and be friends again before I make Amen-cat-zits my new best friend?"
Igor offered a low growl in response and turned away.
"Sheesh! Okay cat, you're my new best friend-at least for today. Let's get you down from that perch and start the purr motor going." With that, McKenzie climbed onto the couch and reached up to get the cat, while it watched McKenzie's actions impassively. Then, just as McKenzie climbed onto the back of the sofa, balancing precariously as he moved within inches of the furred feline, it hissed and lashed out with extended claws.
Yanking back his hand was justifiable, but very much the wrong thing to do. Over balancing, McKenzie fell backward. He managed to get one foot back enough to bounce on the couch seat cushion, but it was not enough to recover and he continued to fall backward, although now his trajectory sent him even further into the room and he sailed almost to the kitchen table before hitting the carpeted floor hard.
Amazingly, McKenzie managed to avoid breaking anything, but the wind was knocked from his lungs and it took a minute to recover. Additionally, McKenzie realized he was going to have some major bruises and probably be walking very slowly for the next several days. When he did, McKenzie looked up from his position on the floor to see the cat, still on the window ledge, nonchalantly washing itself.
"What the hell is your problem cat? You don't want to get picked up, tell me. Igor does, you can too."
McKenzie looked at Igor for support only to see the dog laughing at him.
"Screw you too, dog! This can quickly become a pet free zone. And you too cat. You want back out on the street, just say so. Geez! What the hell does a man have to do to get a little friendship? You'd think I was asking you two to be friends, or mate, or something really weird. I…I…"
McKenzie had been working up to a really good snit when he was interrupted. With a confused look on his face, McKenzie felt a sharp pain in his chest. Knowing that he had not hurt himself there-almost everywhere else, but not there-McKenzie looked down as if waiting to see a knife suddenly sticking out of his chest. Nothing was there, but the pain was getting worse-and he was having trouble breathing. Then he started to get dizzy. When he slumped to the ground moments later, it was anyone's guess whether he had passed out from the pain or the lack of oxygen.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER TWENTY
Tempus Fudges
as told to Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Twenty (of 21) -- Tempus Fudges
Welcome. My name is-er, was-Michal Rossetti Salieri, and, as you've probably guessed given that I've given the author permission to include my story amongst this series of stories, I've undergone a rather significant change. In deference to my long passed relative, I've certainly changed register, abandoned my basso profundo, moved up an octave, or any of several other rather poor analogies. I'll let Mr. Rigby explain. Certainly his skills, unlike mine, include the ability to spin a tale.
Oh, before I forget, don't expect an in depth discussion of the theories and procedures I've developed. First, Mr. Rigby is not adequately trained to understand them-of course I doubt anyone alive to day is-and because I have no intention of providing anyone else the fruits of my labors-at least not without some really impressive compensation. Anyway, enough! Here's what happened.
-=-=-=-=-
"Einstein was wrong." M. R. Salieri stood behind the lectern in the Oak Room staring out into a puddle of twenty or so apparently bored attendees. The conference management had turned off his microphone to avoid echoes and feedback there were so few in attendance. He cursed the ungodly hour. Who expected a groundbreaking research discovery to be announced at eight in the morning on a Sunday, but he gamely continued.
"Einstein was wrong. The single most basic premise in his ground breaking formula, E=mc2, was that he assumed the speed of light to be a constant. It is understandable how he would arrive at this assumption, just as Newton considered gravity to be a constant. At the time, given the available data, it seemed obvious. Newton never got to see the evidence that gravity varied from planetary mass to planetary mass, while for Einstein, in the absence of lasers and cesium chambers nothing seemed able to travel at a speed faster than light. Now we have quarks, we have red-shift data with clear breaks, we have…
Salieri wiped his forehead and looked out at his audience. No one was listening; well, maybe the guy leaning on the mop off by the empty and unattended bar area.
"Is anyone here actually listening to me?"
No one answered.
"Is anyone here from the government? The corporate sector? Academics? The Press?
"None of the above? You there!" he pointed to the only person actually sitting in the back row of the vast sea of seats in the conference room. "Why are you here?"
Instead of answering, the man put up his feet and stretched out across several of the chairs in his row. Salieri could almost imagine him snoring before his head touched the plastic seat bottom. Frustrated and angry, he squinted to see the other attendees more clearly and realized that the other four men were standing about wearing coveralls and leaning on brooms or against cleaning carts.
With a curse, Salieri packed up his papers and stormed out of the hall. It seemed like a cliché, but M. R. Salieri vowed he would not be trifled with. "I will get even," he snarled as he stormed past the bored cleaner. It was slight, but still there was some slight feeling of satisfaction as he kicked the mop out from under the cleaner and saw him fall as he left.
-=-=-=-=-
Always a loner, even as a child, he had been home tutored until he left for college, only to return after one semester, disgusted with the ignorance of his professors and the puerile material they presented in their lectures. Two more attempts at different universities ended similarly and his one attempt at a conference presentation was the final straw, convincing him that humanity had no redeeming value.
Salieri's mother died shortly thereafter, of a broken heart having watched her hopes and dreams for her son collapse if you believed the whisperings of some of the house staff. His father, already having difficulty dealing with the strange and reclusive man he called his son, and now devastated by the loss of his wife, threw himself into business. The result was he tripled the family's already sizable wealth in less than five years, but it was at the expense of his health and he died of complications after triple heart bypass surgery before the end of that fifth year.
Abandoned by both parents, Salieri withdrew even further into his own world. It was not long before only the committee that was responsible for handling his fortune-since he would not-and the occasional scientist with whom he would correspond on specific issues of interest to him were aware of his existence. More and more, his world revolved exclusively around the pursuit of knowledge and the application of that knowledge to new and unusual inventions. Only his strong moral standards, imbued early in life by a series of nannies and private tutors, prevented him from being what the world at large would call a mad scientist. Or did they?
-=-=-=-=-
"Finish this last circuit board. Connect the power supply. What else do I need to do?" Salieri spoke out loud as was his habit after long years alone. The cluttered tabletop upon which he worked stretched for nearly thirty feet in the center of his workroom in the basement of the family mansion. Every couple of feet there was another "project" in progress, some electrical, some biological, and some representing studies into even more abstruse forms of science. Along the wall behind him was a small fortune worth of bin after bin of tools and equipment, enough to bring a smile to almost any scientist in almost any area of specialization.
Taking the completed circuit board with him, Salieri strode purposefully to the Rube Goldberg device filling the remaining half of the huge room. Opening a panel he shoved the board into the last remaining empty slot.
"Yes! Done at last," he sighed and rubbed his tired eyes as he slumped tiredly to the floor. The last seventy-two hours had been a nonstop effort to finish the project that would finally prove, once and for all, his genius to an unknowing and uncaring world.
Like most truly great discoveries, it was both striking in its simplicity and remarkable in its complexity. It built on the complex concepts behind string theory with its multiple dimensions and found a simple mechanism for moving beyond theory and actually manipulate and least some of those dimensions.
-=-=-=-=-
Sorry to interrupt, but before you ask, let me ask you a question. If you had just developed a usable application of a device that permitted both time and inter-dimensional travel, would you stop and take a nap, or would you want to try it out immediately?
-=-=-=-=-
I couldn't wait. All thoughts of sleep fled before the excitement of finally being done, finally being ready to demonstrate that I truly was a genius magnitudes beyond Einstein, DaVinci and those other pikers. But then I realized my problem. I had spent so much time in conceptualization and development that I had never really thought what I would do if-I mean when-I finally finished. I knew I had to do something significant, something that the whole world would see and recognize my greatness. And that was the rub.
It's always the simple things that seem to be overlooked. With all my planning I neglected to consider how I others would realize what I was doing. If I went back in time and changed history, there would just be a new history waiting for me when I returned. No one would know what I had changed. The only way I would be able to prove it would be to take someone else back with me, but then there would only be the two of us, not the adoring world I so wanted.
The bottom line was, I went to sleep after all. This was going to need some thought and I did my best thinking in bed, when the mind can float free and make associations that might otherwise never occur.
-=-=-=-=-
I would not have thought it possible if I had not done it, but I slept around the clock-a full twenty-four hours. The good news is, the time spent sleeping had been well spent. When I woke up I realized that I was looking at the problem the wrong way. I wanted validation, proof the other's acknowledged me as the genius I was, but I didn't need to change the world and then came back to show off what I had done. Instead of having people impressed when I returned from some when or where after doing something amazing, I could just go somewhen and be someone amazing.
I know this narrative has been long on talk, and short on action, but if I don't give you this background information, Dr. Salieri has threatened to rewrite history to insure that I include it. Like most laws of nature there are limits or constants. Newton thought it was the speed of gravity, 32 feet per second. Einstein thought it was the speed of light, 186,000 miles per second. For course, both were wrong. The only constant is that what is, must be. Matter cannot be created from nothing and history, at least in one dimension, cannot be changed. My plan was to search the nearly limitless multiverse until I found a situation were I was world famous. The problem is, that I would have to accept all of the other variables and conditions present in that dimension. In other words, I might need to be a different person in a different dimension, but that would not be bad. My life as Michal Rossetti Salieri was not perfect; otherwise I would not wish so badly to be what I was not.
It took me only a month to decide.
-=-=-=-=-
"And…cut! That was perfect, as usual. Your best yet. No question, this is going to be another blockbuster. What will this be, your thrity-fifth?" the Director gushed excitedly while the crew cheered and applauded. The man and the woman in the huge, silk covered, oval shaped bed basked in the adulation being heaped upon them for several seconds before the man slipped out of the bed and added his applause to that of the others.
With complete disregard for the sheet slowly sliding down to settle on her lap, Michal Rossetti Salieri, shrugged her perfect alabaster shoulders and allowed her breasts to jiggle slightly. It was enough to silence the entire crew. Several shifted positions to ease growing pressures below the belt.
"Gentlemen, I thank you for your thoughts, but I would be nothing without you to make me look so good." With that she strolled regally off to her dressing suite. She never bothered to correct the director and tell him it was actually her thirty-eighth mega-hit. It was great to be adored and admired at last.
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude Twenty
Damn! I actually fainted. Maybe it was the shrimp I grabbed out of the refrigerator. They did taste a bit funny.
Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? It wasn't bad shrimp. It was my heart. I'm obese. I'm more than obese; I'm a freaking blimp. This isn't a matter of just loosing a bit of weight. I need to make some drastic changes. Janice and mom were right all along. I need to see that doctor, and soon. I'm going to call Janice and get an appointment ASAP. I'm too young to be with Jenna yet.
CONCLUDED IN CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Code Pink
as told to
Andy Hollis and Jaye Michael
Chapter Twenty-One -- Code Pink
Sirens wailed as the ambulance raced for the emergency room door. The two emergency medical technicians in the back of the vehicle kept a constant monitor on their patient's vital signs while the driver yelled into the radio.
"We'll need at least two people out on the deck-STAT. Maybe three. We've got a very large patient that needs to be moved.
On the stretcher, McKenzie Rigby groaned and opened his eyes. He groaned as the sights of the ambulance interior registered. "What?" he managed to croak out.
"Looks like you had a heart attack, Mr. Rigby," one of the medics said.
"Yeah, you panty-freak queen. You're going to find out what we do to sissy boys around here."
Hold it right there, McKenzie.
"Huh?" Mac looked up from the computer, scanning the room to find out who had talked. After all, it didn't sound like the cat and Igor never really did anything more than growl and groan.
You know people don't talk like that in real life. That person is a highly trained medical professional, and he wouldn't be jabbering at you like that.
"What's going on?" he asked twisting around in the chair as I kept trying to see whoever was speaking. "Who are you?"
I'm your internal editor, of course. You can call me, Carey.
"Carey? Wouldn't your name be McKenzie as well, since, as you say, you are my internal editor?"
You're not going to saddle me with some stupid name like McKenzie. Besides, how could we tell each other apart if I had the same name? Answer me that, Mister I'm-Going-to-be-Logical-About-This-Whole-
Disembodied-Voice-Thing?
"You don't speak very formally, I mean for an internal editor," Mac pointed out.
I don't care about your writing, you clod. I'm your internal editor. Have you noticed that pressure in your chest and the fact that you are having a hard time breathing?
"Now that you mention it, yes. But that happens all the time. Hey?! You mean I'm having a heart attack?"
On the nosey! It might be days before anyone finds you so why don't you call 911 now, while you still can? It's that or let your life flash before your eyes with me along to edit it.
Mac reached for the phone in spite of the ever increasing pain. He dialed out 9-1-1 as someone knocked on the door. "Help," Mac sputtered out. "Heart attack."
"An ambulance is on the way, sir. Just stay calm and keep breathing."
The knocking grew louder. Then a key turned in the lock and David pushed his way inside.
"Uncle Mac?" Dave screamed as he ran over to the computer table and shook the man. "Uncle Mac?" David screamed again as he shook the man's shoulder. A second later, he grabbed the phone out of
McKenzie's now limp hand and heard a voice.
"Hello?" he offered hesitatntly.
"This is the nine-one-one operator. Who are you?"
"Uh, David. Mac-Mr. Rigby is my uncle. He looks like he's dead."
"Just hang on, son. The medics are on the way."
"Okay, I'd better call Mom."
Before the emergency operator could stop him, David hung up and called home. Igor licked McKenzie's face, and David looked up in time to see the cat, Amencatep, bolt out the still open apartment door.
"Mom," he half shouted into the phone. "It's Uncle Mac. I think he's had a heart attack. He must have called 911 and there's an ambulance on the way here."
"Does he have a pulse?"
"Yeah," David answered as he felt Mac's neck. "It's, like, really fast."
"I'm on my way, sweetheart. You stay there until the ambulance comes. If it gets there before me, go with Uncle Mac to the hospital and I'll meet you there, instead."
"Sure, Mom. I will," David promised as he heard sirens outside. "I think the ambulance is here."
David stood outside watching the ambulance leave, with sirens blaring and lights flashing, with his uncle on board. They wouldn't let him go with Uncle Mac, something about being a minor. He frowned as he saw his mother's car turning onto the street right in the ambulance's path. She swerved out of the way just missing the ambulance. David started to wave to her in hopes of catching her attention before she followed the ambulance and left him here at Uncle Mac's apartment.
"Watch out!" David's wave turned to a horrified shout as he saw Amencatep dart across the road in front of his mother's car.
Janice swerved the car again, this time to avoid the cat, and stomped on the brakes. The result was a sideways skid, right into a large tree.
"Mom!" the boy screamed as he raced to the car. Yanking the door open, he stood and gaped at the sight of his mother, lying motionless in the car seat. "Mom?"
There was no response.
David knew better than try to help directly. He opened the back door, reached into his mother's purse and retrieved her cell phone. He dialed 911 again.
-=-=-=-=-
"Do not vorry about a zing, senor Rigby. Ich bin Antoinette, und I am your nurse for the evening, if youse please."
Mac heard the voice from a mile away. He heard the constant beep of his heart monitor overheard, and the usual sounds of a busy Emergency Room: kids crying, staff yelling, and nurses pushing equipment up and down the halls.
He licked his lips, and tried to focus on the tall, blonde woman standing over his gurney. "Don't I know you?"
"Wee wee, monsur Big Mac. Do not play ze cat und mouse wiz me, I beg you. You remembers your Antoinette."
"But I wrote you," Mac protested. "You're from the Cathouse. Dr. Morouser and Madam Gatochateu. You aren't real."
"Ah, but signore, there is real and there is real. Remember da cat. If eet is real, zen vhy cannot I be real aussi-how you say, also. Vas is happenink to you now is very real, wouldn't you agree?"
"I want a real nurse," Mac half shouted as he tried to sit up on the gurney. "I…" His words turned to an anguished scream as he felt his chest being crushed. Pain shot up into his jaw and down his left arm as part of his heart muscle died from the lack of oxygen.
"Code Blue," Antoinette shouted. "Code Blue in the ER!" She looked down at the patient lying unconscious on the bed struggling to breath. "Code Pink!" she added just above a whisper as she smiled knowingly.
The first doctor raced into the room and almost knocked the tall, blonde nurse to her knees in his rush. He positioned his arm for a pericardial thump, watched the monitor, and pounded Mac's chest with his closed fist. He tried again before shouting for the defibrillator.
"Clear!"
Twice the doctor jolted McKenzie's heart, and still the monitor showed no sign of improvement.
"Epinephrine in a cardiac syringe," he shouted, then took the syringe from Antoinette. After three doses injected straight into McKenzie's heart, the monitor showed the heart rate slowing down, back into normal sinus rhythm. "Get a line in with lidocaine and monitor…."
He glanced down at the syringe. Something was wrong. The pink stuff inside could not possibly be epinephrine. "What is this?" he asked, already fearing that he knew what it was.
"Oh, Herr Monsur Doctore, you asked for ze epinephrine."
"But this is estrogen, isn't it?"
"Si, si, yavohl. Estrogen, epinephrine, same zing. It vorks like charm on senorita Big Mac."
"Doctor?" Another nurse called out. "Look at the patient!"
"Holy Mother of God," the man said watching his patient visibly shrink on the gurney-and it kept on shrinking, as if it was folding back into itself. He turned back to Antoinette, but the girl was gone, as if by ancient magic.
On the litter, McKenzie's frame seethed and shifted as skin and muscles shrank against the bones. Years of culinary abuse melted away as the hormonal balance changed from male to female.
Five minutes later, a young woman, all fresh faced with unblemished skin lay on the bed in place of the man having the heart attack. The woman was less than a quarter the size of the man that had been there moments before. She was also beautiful, with long tawny blonde hair and a face to make a supermodel jealous.
"What do we do now?" the nurse asked the doctor, who could only shake his head. "I think he-she-whatever-might notice this."
"If she doesn't notice," the doctor commented staring at the girl's face. "I'm asking her out."
-=-=-=-=-
McKenzie woke with a flutter of eyelids. Gradually, she opened her eyes and glanced around the hospital room with a frown on her face. Something wasn't right, and she couldn't pinpoint the problem. But, she was alive, heart attack or no.
"Good morning, sweetheart," a voice said, from far away.
Focusing on the voice, McKenzie made out her mother's face. "Mom?" she choked out, then cleared her throat. Her voice sounded odd.
"It's okay, darling. Everything will be fine. You're alive, and in much better shape than you were when they brought you in here, but there was a slight problem?"
"Slight?" McKenzie asked. "Slight? I feel totally wrong. My voice sounds totally wrong. What happened? That nurse…."
"Yes, apparently that was the cause of this, Darling. She gave you the wrong medication while they were working on you."
McKenzie managed to hold up one arm. She stared at it for a moment, then studied the long, tapered fingers that adorned her hand. She choked back a scream. "This can't be for real. What did she give me?"
"Estrogen. Well, estrogen plus a bunch of other medications that the doctors here still haven't identified," Mrs. Rigby answered slowly, not sure if her new daughter would understand. "Instead of epinephrine, the nurse gave the doctor estrogen to inject into your heart. It caused some…changes."
"But changes like that aren't possible," McKenzie insisted. He studied his hands, with the long, slender fingers, tapered nails, and let his vision take in his slender, almost hairless arms. Slowly, he pulled the sheet up and looked down at the good-sized lumps underneath. "Okay, I never thought changes like that were possible."
Mrs. Rigby sighed, and pulled her chair closer to the bed. "There's something else."
"What? Now that I'm your daughter instead of your son you're going to kick me out of the family?"
"No, of course not. It's David. He needs you now, more than ever. I won't be able to take care of him for that much longer."
"What do you mean? Where's Janice?"
"They didn't tell you?" Mrs. Rigby asked, suddenly quiet. The elderly woman took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, yet at the same time seemed to shrink into herself. Mac was getting really worried now.
"I guess there's no easy way to say it. Are you sure you're ready for this my dear? I don't want to hurt you. I can wait until you've had a bit more time to recover…"
"I may have changed," Mac laughed. "But you certainly haven't. How about coming to the point, just once, Mom?"
"Janice died in a car accident shortly after the ambulance brought you here. She was on her way to your apartment after David called her and told her you'd collapsed. She ran into a tree. She died instantly.
Even worse, David is missing. He wasn't at your apartment and he wasn't back at Janice's house. Social services is trying to find him and they may involve the police very soon."
McKenzie shuddered for a moment before she broke down crying.
-=-=-=-=-
Interlude Twenty-One
It was an oversized casket, vaguely reminiscent of a piano crate, but with a smooth mahogany finish. Of course, that wasn't very surprising considering McKenzie's girth. It wasn't even surprising that it was a closed casket. That was a request direct from McKenzie's will. What was surprising was how many mourners there were considering how few people were still alive in the Rigby family, and even to David's young eye, some of them appeared to be a bit…odd, as it were.
The gravesite was surrounded with flower arrangements, more than David had ever seen. Apparently, most of them were from a Ms. Everes of Carlico Industries. The notes apologized for not being able to be at the funeral due to a previous business engagement and offered sympathies.
Of course Grandma was there, standing to David's left as they stood before the gravesite. She had done an amazing job of keeping David's spirits up while organizing two funerals and an adoption.
Then, there was Caroline, the social worker who had overseen David's adoption by Grandma Rigby. She stood to David's right, her blonde hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Behind her were several friends of hers that came to offer David and Grandma moral support in this difficult time. Cindy and Maggie were redheads, while the second blonde, Jacki, had absolutely luxuriant, long flowing hair, but wore a rather austere, male-cut business suit. Jacki stood a head taller than any of the other women. She seemed to be Caroline's closest friend, always standing nearest to the social worker, always with a protective hand at Caroline's back. Maybe they were sisters. From their conversation, carefully designed to avoid painful topics like death, it seemed that Jacki was an account executive for an ad agency as well as a model for some hair care products with a successful series of television commercials, which was probably why she seemed vaguely familiar to David.
Actually, there were several rather famous people at the funeral, made even more surprising when one considered that McKenzie Rigby had worked as a night security guard. David wondered when his uncle had had the opportunity to meet some of them. Most notable was Michal Rossetti Salieri, the internationally renowned star of stage and screen.
Another actress was at the funeral too. David had never heard of her, unlike Ms. Salieri, but Victoria Lane had been introduced as one by Freddy, the man who had accompanied her. Freddy was one of the stranger people at the funeral with his bright blue leisure suit and his constantly moving hands, but he was more surprising for the fact that he was one of the few males there.
There was even royalty at the funeral. David really had no idea why they were there, but considering the rather large and evil looking guards hovering near them, he decided that cowardice would actually be the better part of valor and had no intention of approaching Princess Maryanna Magdelaine Eustacia Tatiana von Korngold of Slovavia to ask. Similarly, the rather sharp knives being displayed by the swarthy guards surrounding Princess Amechdela and her consort were daunting, but at least she was his age. David decided that, if he got the opportunity, he would at least try to talk to her to see how she had met uncle Mac.
Uncle Mac's ex-girlfriend was at the funeral too, although she seemed to be hanging in the background. David guessed that she was there because she still cared for Uncle Mac, but didn't want to talk to
Grandma or him after the break up. Some of the people David saw her talking too were a bit weird though.
One was a lady with skin that was so smooth that she reminded David of a mannequin. Another was a really ugly looking fat man with skin so flabby he looked more like a blob than a person. He had introduced himself as coming from somewhere called Gygaxion or Gigantion, or something and talked funny. There was a really pretty teenaged girl with a Russian accent and wearing some of the highest heels David had ever seen. He wouldn't have noticed if Caroline had not commented on them to Jacki. The Russian girl was talking to two other girls who also had strange accents. One was wearing a full-length black dress and a huge hat with a veil so thick that you couldn't see her face. She kept standing under a large Elm tree, seeming afraid to step outside the circle of shade that it provided.
Then there was the group that looked like they were escapees from a circus. There was one guy with a leisure suit as bright as the one that Freddy guy was wearing. He kept asking people if they wanted to buy stuff. There were these two little guys with him, not much taller than David himself, that kept roaring at people and telling everyone that they were giants and that people needed to do whatever they said or else.
No one from David's school had shown up, but there were a couple of kids about David's age at the funeral. Unfortunately, both sets seemed to have paired off. The two girls kept giggling and whispering to each other as they pointed smiled and waved at David. They were pretty, but David wasn't ready for girlfriends yet. The other two, a boy and a girl, were holding hands. David wasn't certain, but about half way through the service, he thought he saw the girl fly off carrying the guy.
The only problem had been when the casket broke the straps holding it up and it went crashing down into the grave. Somehow it dropped smoothly into the pit without popping open or anything gross like that, so everyone tried ignore it. The minister intoned the words "ashes to ashes, dust to dust," threw a handful of dirt on the casket and everyone but the lady with the veil standing under the tree began to file by to do the same.
After the last few stragglers filed past the grave to drop in a flower or some dirt, the group milled around, apparently waiting for something rather than moving off to their cars. The last mourner was a tall, rotund man sporting a full head of gray hair with black stripe down the center. He carried a rather large cat that looked a lot like the one that Uncle Mac had had. He was also surrounded by a gaggle of women who were so voluptuous as to be caricatures of women, if the snide comments of some of the other attendees were any indication.
One of the women whispered to the man, who had previously been introduced to us as a Dr. Morouser. He shook his head, but the woman whispered back and gave a look that could only be described as pleading and he relented. Smiling brightly, the woman, a blonde, approached Grandma and offered her condolences, although she seemed to be smiling as if she had some special secret rather than looking somber.
"Mademoiselle Rigby, on behalf of Mein Herr Doktor, I'd like to offer yahs our sympathy und ask about vouz daughter. Ve doesn't see her here."
Grandma looked the woman up and down distastefully before answering. "Thank you for your concern. McKenzie is obviously in a better place, as is Janice."
"Oh nein, no, nada. I meant vouz other daughter, Jenna."
"You know Jenna?" Grandma was surprised.
"That's enough Antoinette." The man with the distinguished looking hair interrupted the woman. She immediately bowed her head and respectfully stepped aside, allowing the man to step forward as she stepped back to join the other three.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Morouser and I am a genius. I represent most of the other mourners when I say that we are more concerned about your new daughter's life than your son's death."
Grandma was flabbergasted.
"Grandma, what's going on?" David asked, tugging gently on the older woman's sleeve when she didn't respond.
"I don't know, David," she finally answered and turned back the doctor to see that the rest of the mourners had gathered around them. It might have been scary except for the fact that they all looked so friendly and concerned.
"David's question is an excellent one, Mrs. Rigby. Would you like me to explain?"
"Yes, please."
"Why don't we move over to that bench? This might take a few moments to explain." When Grandma made no objection, Dr. Morouser gently too her hand and escorted her over to a horseshoe shaped bench under the shade tree where the woman with the veiled hat stood. The other mourners separated to allow them to reach it, but then reformed around them, even closer than before.
Grandma chose a seat to one side of the bench with David beside her, being hugged tightly while the doctor gracefully seated himself on the other side of the "U," facing them.
"I think you were going to explain something?" Grandma prompted once he was seated.
"Like I said, this will take a bit of explaining," Dr. Morouser sighed. I need to start by making several statements of fact. While several may be a bit hard to accept, please believe me when I say that they are completely true.
"First, there are other dimensions."
Grandma snorted and began to get up.
"Please, wait. I warned you this would be difficult. Besides, I'm guessing that McKenzie Rigby developed his love of storytelling from you. Do you really have somewhere to go that is so important you would miss the chance to hear a tall tale, not that that's what I'm going to tell you, but still…"
Grandma sat back down and waved the doctor on.
"Like I said, 'First there are other dimensions.' I don't mean the eight, twelve, twenty or however many the string theorists claim describe the universe; I mean the kind of dimensions where other people live.
"Second, except for a very few of us, we are all from different dimensions.
Grandma rolled her eyes, but remained seated.
"Third, all of us owe our very lives to McKenzie Rigby."
"Excuse me," Grandma interrupted. "I loved my son very much and thought he had the potential to do great things, but even a mother has to recognize some truths and McKenzie was no hero."
"You misunderstand, Madam. McKenzie did not save our lives. We owe our lives, our very existences, to him.
"Huh?" David looked around, wondering who said that, until he realized that he had and scrunched down closer to his grandmother.
"Mr. Rigby authored a variety of stories and published them on the Internet. We are the characters from those stories. Had your son not written those stories, we would not be. I guess, in some way, we are all your grandchildren."
He stopped to let Grandma stop choking. David started to pat her on the back only to find that it was already being done. Jenna had returned.
"I'm sorry I was late folks. Car trouble. Almost missed my own funeral."
"Hello, Jenna," Dr. Morouser greeted the newcomer with his usual leer. "I see you're looking well."
"Yes, thank you, Doctor. I heard you explaining what happened to my mother, please don't let me interrupt." With that she took a seat on the other side of Mrs. Rigby from David and placed a hand around her mother, briefly reaching beyond to lovingly ruffle David's hair.
"Ah-hum. Yes, of course," Dr. Morouser cleared his voice before continuing.
"Where was I?"
"Vous is ze characters," Tiffany, Brigette, Simone and Antoinette, his "wards" shouted out in unison before giggling, also in unison.
"Hush! That was a rhetorical question," the doctor grumbled, but then continued.
-=-=-=-=-
Togetherness
On top of Olesmuki Mountain in the southern continent of Gygaxion there was a brown lump. It was staring up into space and thinking when it saw what looked like a shooting star. As a scientist, it was fascinated by all things not of Gygaxion. It had even had the opportunity to take a sample from another world once.
Seeking to better examine the phenomenon, it modified its shape to create a parabolic receiver and sensors in the electromagnetic range. It took a moment to focus on the object, but then it rippled with shock. It was a red and blue flying creature of a shape very much like the human it had examined. Even more amazing, the human creature was flying toward it.
"Greetings," the caped human said as it gently landed beside it. "Is this Gygaxion and are you the blob that studied a human specimen named McKenzie Rigby on your spaceship?"
"Yes. May I help you, uh …."
"They call me Superkid, and yes you can. I'm looking for a, I believe the politically correct term is, polymorphic intelligence who recently studied a human male of outstanding wisdom called McKenzie Rigby?"
"Why yes. What can I do for you?"
"You can come with me to meet several other people whose lives have been touched by him."
"You mean I might be able to speak to the one and only McKenzie Rigby once again? I am overwhelmed by the honor. Take me anywhere you wish."
The blob rolled itself into a small, hard ball and bounced into Superkid's arms. Faster than a speeding tall building, they were off.
-=-=-=-=-
"I am NOT the creation of some human's imagination." When the conversation had started, a remarkably nondescript man of average size had been speaking, but as his anger grew so did his size. He was now at least ten feet tall and his skin had changed from the unhealthy pallor of one who spends too much time indoors to a ruddy red similar to that of a smoldering ember and he barely fit inside the circle drawn on the floor that he made every not to cross.
"Are you not known by the name Puppick?" Michal Rossetti Salieri, internationally known actress and physicist calmly asked, yet again as she stared upward at the demon looming menacingly over her.
"Arch Demon Sloth Puppick is the name you puny humans know me by, yes."
"And do you remember how you escaped from Castle Dracul?" Michal double-checked some papers on the clipboard in her hand. "Excuse me Castle Fodor."
"Of course. I remember all my victims. The Whiting brothers were especially tasty…"
"Don't attempt to play games with me. I meant Melvin Dodson."
"Have you met the lovely Melvin?" the demon sneered disdainfully down at the woman questioning him.
"Actually, yes. Several times now," Michal responded solemnly.
"Is she the reason why I am held in this boring dimension against my will?"
"Well, Melvin helped us find…"
"Us, there are more of you pathetic humans about? There goes the neighborhood."
"As I was saying," Michal tried again, "Melvin helped us find you, but you are here because of McKenzie Rigby; not because of any desire to see you again on Melvin's part."
"My little succubus would not wish a repeat of the best sex she will ever have? I'm shocked," the demon growled, yet still managed to sound insincere. Then, he examined Michal appraisingly and added, "Of course, you will do quite nicely as a replacement. Release the ward and you shall receive pleasure beyond your wildest imaginings-before I destroy you."
"There are no wards," Michal calmly replied. "But I should warn…"
"Warn me later-if you survive. First you shall pleasure me." With that the demon growled and grabbed at the woman's blouse. It's intent was to rip it from her body. The result was that it's clawed hand stopped less than an inch from her body.
"What trickery is this?" it asked as the creature's formidable muscles contracted and flexed as it struggled to grab Michal. "The ward is on, you liar."
"No, I did not lie. There is no ward. On this world, in this dimension, violence, such as the rape you attempted, is not permitted."
"Impossible!" The demon spit the words out, still struggling to reach Michal, whose response was the light tinkle of laughter.
"A demon, a being of magic, alleges impossibility? Now I've heard everything."
The Arch Demon Sloth Puppick growled and continued to struggle. It swore to itself that it would not be denied this taste mortal, but as the seconds turned into minutes, if finally gave up.
Michal sighed. She knew that the creatures of this dimension could not be injured by violence, but she had not been certain that it would apply to a creature of magic like the demon.
"Walk with me Sloth. I have a story to tell you."
-=-=-=-=-
"So we all got together," Michal stopped to brush several strands of hair from her face. There was a breeze picking up and David shivered and huddled closet to Grandma. "It took a while, and the debates were fascinating, albeit occasionally bitter, but we finally agreed that your son McKenzie was our creator and that he was in trouble. We did what any self-respecting honorable group of characters would do. We saved him and made him one of us."
David's Tale
David stopped typing and wondered if that would be enough. It had taken quite a while, but Grandma finally believed and then she and Jenna had explained it to David. Uncle Mac had almost died from a heart attack. Instead, he had been saved by being turned into a young woman named Jenna. There was a lot of discussion back and forth between Grandma and Jenna. Mostly it was Grandma asking Jenna if she had been writing all those stories because she wanted to be a woman and Jenna insisting that they were just something to write about.
The boy didn't care about those stories. There was only one fact that was important, he thought. Uncle Mac had written stuff and it had come true. The first chance he got, David snuck into Jenna's room and turned on her computer. Starting the word processing program, David began to type.
Mom was alive and well. It had been someone else in the car.
-=-=-=-=-
THE END
by Andy Hollis
Brian didn't know what he had gotten into when he responded to a Unicorn's summons. He didn't know the ropes of the job and had short of forever to learn it. He had become a Unicorn. But worst of all, the job description didn't mention the fact he would become a she...
I kicked a stone along the dirt path, and waited for the puffs of dust to clear before I chased it. The path wound its way through the city park and several acres of woods, and I hoped find a little relief from the heat. The air conditioning at school crashed and I had the afternoon off.
After brushing trash off a park bench, I sat down and kicked at an old candy wrapper. I sighed, and shook my head. The mounds of litter in the park would soon take over, but it gave the squirrels something to play with. Someone really should do something about the garbage, but it wasn't going to be me. I watched a couple of the tree rats fight over a paper cup before I stood up again with a frown on my face.
I swore I heard someone call my name, but I couldn't see anyone. I started walking for home when the call came again, louder, and this time I heard it only in my thoughts. I looked around again then set off in the direction I thought the call was coming from.
"Hurry."
The urgency in the message made me break into a run. I crossed the main road and spotted something white laying in a ditch about fifty yards down the road. I ran harder, but stopped as I found a barrier in the way. I reached out and touched the air. A force field? I've watched enough Star Trek to guess what it was but I never thought I'd find a real one. I tried again, and found I could push my way through the barrier as if I was walking through Saran Wrap.
I felt the field stretch, then pop.
Silence. I looked around amazed at the sense of utter peace I felt. I couldn't hear a single bird or even the rustle of a breeze. For the first time I took a good look at the ditch. I had to blink several times and rub my eyes, but the vision did not vanish.
A unicorn lay on it's side, panting against the ground. My mouth dropped open to my knees. The creature had a milky white coat with a snow-white mane and tail. It's hooves looked like burnished gold while the horn -- the horn was indescribable, a swirl of ever-changing colors that gave me a headache to watch.
The unicorn raised its head to look at me. "How old are you, boy?"
"Twelve, and I'm in the seventh grade," I said automatically. "I'm Brian."
"Too young by far but what can I do?" the unicorn said and lowered its head again.
Kneeling down by the animal's side, I could smell a slight, musty scent from the unicorn's coat. "Is there anything I can do to help. You look hurt..."
"No, not hurt. My kind lives just short of forever and my time has come. We are so few now..." He raised his head and pressed the tip of his horn into my forehead.
Although I felt pressure and blood running down my checks I didn't feel any pain, or even the slightest concern about what was happening.
"It is done. You were the one to answer my call, and now the one selected to take my place. Guard this land well, boy. I have cared for it since -- well long before humans ever came here. I would have liked to teach you, but the call did not reach you in time. You are the unicorn now, and you have just short of forever to learn the job."
"Me?" I said. "I'm not a unicorn. What am I supposed to do?"
The unicorn closed its eyes and quickly faded away. I stood up and wiped tears from my eyes. A second later I heard the real world return with a loud hiss. The blood stains from the hole in my forehead faded from my clothes.
Birds chattered over my head, and I heard something else.
"We welcome the new unicorn. We welcome the new unicorn."
Right over my head I spotted a pair of squirrels, but -- this was crazy. It was impossible. I must have had a touch of sun stroke or something. Unicorns -- talking squirrels... I hurried back to the path to head for home.
I trotted for a few yards when a red fox stepped into the path in front of me. "Unicorn, I need your help. My vixen is hurt and I have been waiting for you."
"A talking fox isn't as bad as talking squirrels, but what am I supposed to do? I'm not a vet."
"But you are the unicorn," the fox said as if expecting that to take care of everything. I could see the panic in the animal's eyes.
"Where is she?"
The world spun around, and I found myself nose to nose with the fox. I looked back at myself. "I'm a fox. But that's impossible." I bounced around on four legs for a moment. The weirdest thing about this was I didn't feel any different. It felt right to stand on four paws and to have a tail stretching out behind me. It took a moment longer to adjust to a new world of smells and sounds.
"Follow me," the fox said and took off into the woods. We ran for what seemed like miles before I found the battered vixen partially hidden in the dry under brush.
"The new unicorn is here."
"What happened?" I asked sniffing the vixen. She looked in bad shape.
"Dogs," the fox said. "Dogs caught her and almost killed her."
The world spun around again and I found myself standing on four longer legs. I snorted and lowered my head to touch my horn to the vixen. I felt the power flow then stepped back to watch the fox heal. She stood up and shook herself off.
"Thank you, thank you," the male said bouncing around his girl friend. She gave me a wide grin.
"Thank you, too," she said. A second later I shrank back down to fox to let her lick my nose.
"I am at your service, unicorn," the male said. "You are new at this and I can help."
"Would you?"
"Tonight. I do not like being out in the daylight like this. I will know where to find you."
With another thought, I changed into a bird, a robin I think, and spread my wings to fly home. Flying was fun but I still felt too stunned to really enjoy it. I ran inside, yelled out, "Hi, Mom," then ran to my room. She was on the phone, as always. Making another of her -- deals. Ever since Dad left she hasn't wanted to get a real job, but she does act like a real wheeler-dealer, a mover and shaker -- well, whatever.
I closed and locked my door, sat down on the bed then muffled a scream in my pillow. I had met a unicorn; no problem with that except unicorns don't exist. I was now a unicorn too, and I could not only understand animals but change shapes as well. This couldn't be happening, but... I walked over to my closest, and moved the clothes off the door to uncover the mirror. With a thought, I changed back to unicorn.
This was incredible. I could look at the swirling lights and colors in the horn without getting headache now, but I took a good look at the rest of me. Not bad, I thought, for a horse. I didn't have a beard like I thought I would. I did not have goats' hooves, but I did have a milky white coat and snow white mane and tail. Something was wrong. I couldn't place it, but something was wrong. I knew I wasn't an expert on horses or unicorns for that matter but I shook my head and thought about changing back to me.
I stopped, and stared at my reflection again. I lowered my head and checked underneath me from one end to the next. I was a girl. I changed back to me and dropped my pants. I was a boy as a human but a female unicorn. That didn't make any sense at all. The unicorn was a...
I couldn't remember looking but if that one was female and I turned into a much younger version of her... This was going to be a real headache figuring everything out.
I walked over to my window, opened it checked out the nearest tree. "You," I said pointing at a squirrel. "Front and center, please."
"Me?" The squirrel squeaked. "Me?" Two seconds later the tree rat was sitting on my windowsill. "How can I help, unicorn?"
I tested something else. I opened my hand and watched half a dozen peanuts appear in my palm. "You can pass these out."
Two more squirrels scrambled up to my window. "Can we help? Can we help?"
"No, but thanks. I tossed a couple handfuls of nuts out the window and got rid of the rodents. I opened a notebook on my desk and jotted down a note. If I had to learn this job I had better keep notes. Rules, I needed some sort of guidelines about this and the first had to be -- Unicorn rule number one: don't feed squirrels.
I wandered out to the kitchen and immediately found unicorn rule number two: don't eat meat.
"I'm going to go out this evening," Mom said from behind me.
She held out a twenty-dollar bill. "You want to call out for pizza?"
"Yeah, that's great. And a movie?"
"Okay, but -- I'd better make the call. What do you want?"
"All veggies for me. I think I'm going to be a vegetarian from now on."
"You? You would give up hamburgers?"
With a loud sigh, I nodded. "Don't want to have clogged arteries before I'm a teenager. Do you know anything about unicorns?"
"Don't have time now, sweetheart, but you could try the Internet when I get off the phone. Brian, what's that noise outside? Sounds like it's coming from the back yard. Check it out, will you?"
"Right. Sure, it could be robbers or muggers and you want me to check it out?"
"In the middle of the afternoon? Scoot."
I walked outside through the kitchen door and then peeked through the fence to the back yard. Besides the squirrels there had to be a dozen cats, dogs and assorted creatures waiting underneath my window.
"What are you guys doing here?" Next mistake -- they all started talking at once. I had to hold up my hand, line them up and handle the issues one at a time. What did I look like? A free clinic? All the animals there wanted to me to fix their hurt paws or untangle fur or offer a free meal and comfort. After all, I was the unicorn.
"What was it?" Mom asked when I finally managed to get back inside.
"Some dogs and cats and a raccoon were in a fight. It's okay now."
"The pizza will be here any minute and I'm off in about five minutes. Give me a kiss, and I just heard that you won't have school tomorrow either."
I gave her a peck on the cheek. "Great news. I'm going to be busy tomorrow so don't worry about me."
****
The stack of books weighed twenty tons, I thought, as I carried them to the nearest table. The library had dozens of books on unicorns and even more stories in anthologies but -- I had to go through them all.
A night out with the foxes was fun, and I would do it again, but I still hadn't learned anything about my job.
The problem was that the books told me what a unicorn was, and I knew that, but they didn't go into what a unicorn did. I turned a page amazed at the artwork I had found, but...
"Well, well, well. And just what are you doing here?"
I lowered my book and stared at an elderly man that was only three inches tall. He stood on the table, smaller than some of the books were thick. "Homework."
"But with all these human books, and this place?"
I looked around the room, saw no one looking this way, and shook my head. "I don't do pixies."
"I, my good beast, am a leprechaun, and I'm seeking you out because I need a way home... If you would be so kind."
"A plane ticket to Ireland? What do I look like? A bank?"
"To the fairy lands of course. What are you, dense?"
"No, just new to this and there isn't anyone around to teach me -- except you of course."
"Teach you what?"
I gave the little person a wide grin. "My job. The unicorn that did this to me is gone and it looks like you're elected, if you would be so kind."
"Tell me what sort of a job would a unicorn have except to be sending folks like me back home on request. You know leprechauns and unicorns have always had a tight bond in that respect. Unicorns always do whatever the leprechaun asks them to, if you follow me."
"Oh, really?"
"Of course. It's like a tradition. Take that as your job description my lad, and be happy with it. There now, I've taught you everything you need to know about being a unicorn so send me home."
"Sorry, but I can't. For one thing, as an American unicorn I wouldn't think of it -- without the appropriate payment, and for the next, I don't know how."
"Oh, bloody... Excuse me, are you really as young as you look?"
"I'm twelve, does that count?"
"Too young by half if you ask me. What good is it for a unicorn to pass on to someone still in the nursery? We'd better go back then. Come on now, I haven't got all day about this."
"Go on back where? I'm kind of busy what with tiny people interrupting me from my research."
The leprechaun shook his head. "Perhaps I had that coming, but this is important. I need to take you to see my pal, the wizard. Oh, and don't give me that look, my good beast. John's all right for an American wizard and he isn't the mercenary that American horses are."
"Okay, but could he help me about unicorns?"
"As much as any I'd say. Now step lively, lad. Since you don't wear shirts with pockets in them any more I'll ride in this." A small leather shoulder pouch popped onto the table.
I started to pack the leprechaun in the bag when he jumped up from the table and touched me on the forehead. "Ow. What did you do that for?" I reached up to rub the spot when I found a rather hard lump. "Uh oh, is that what I think it is?"
"Of course, what did you expect. It's growing in nicely at that."
I concentrated as hard as I could about getting rid of the horn, but nothing happened. The little man laughed at me.
"You can hide it, of course, but you can't change it. Do you have any idea how much raw power is stored in that horn? Here, I'll do the magic the first time. There, no one can see the horn but you and me now. Touch it again and feel the way I did it."
"Oh, I've got it, and thanks."
The wizard lived about a mile from the library. I'd never think of a wizard living in standard split-level in the suburbs, but the leprechaun insisted this was the right house. I walked up to the front door and rang the bell?"
A moment later a tall, and rather young man answered the door. "Sorry, I have all the papers I need."
"It's me, John. Move aside and let us in."
"Tim? Timothy, what are you doing back here?" I followed the wizard inside and took the seat John pointed at. "Well?"
"It's not that bad, my lad. Not bad at all. We have a problem here. I was on my way home like, I told you, but you know how long that takes and how it drains my power reserve."
"Well, yes."
The leprechaun snapped his fingers. "That's why I had this brainstorm I did. I thought why should I go through all of that to get home when yon beastie could do it and not work up a sweat."
"Yon beastie?" John demanded. "Please, excuse him, son. I'm sure he didn't mean that the way it sounded. Don't be rude to the child, Tim."
"Don't fooled by the lad's scruffy schoolboy exterior, John. Under that disguise is the new unicorn."
"A what?"
"Unicorn, John, pay attention. I don't like repeating myself."
"And just what do you mean by unicorn?"
Timothy snorted. "You don't know? It's a type of horse with a bloody great horn sticking out of its forehead."
"I know what a unicorn is..."
"Then why did you ask? I swear you humans are getting to be worse every time I make the crossing. What sort of wizard are you that you didn't feel the passing yesterday?"
"I felt something, but what are you talking about?"
"This boy is the new unicorn. I asked him to send me home, but that's the problem. He needs someone to teach him what a unicorn is and how to use his powers. That's why we're here."
The wizard peered at me for a moment. "Okay, son. What happened?"
"I'm not sure, sir. I was on my home from school yesterday, and I found a unicorn."
"Let me get this straight. You found a unicorn?"
"Yes, sir. It's a type of horse with a bloody great horn sticking out of its forehead."
"Very -- witty. I got that part. Then?"
"I tried to help, but he or she jabbed me in my forehead with that horn and told me I was the new unicorn. He -- died before he could tell me what that meant. I started for home when a fox asked me to help his vixen. She'd been caught by dogs and almost died, but she was a real fighter. I helped her of course, but that's when I found out I could change into a fox."
"I see. This was a normal fox?"
"I guess. I've always liked foxes but I've never been able to talk to them before."
"And you changed shapes?"
"Yes. I changed into a fox first, then into a unicorn so I could heal the vixen and when she was better I turned into a robin to fly home."
"I suppose that beats walking, but would you care to show me how you can change?"
After I shrugged off the shoulder bag, I stood up and changed to unicorn. "Like that."
"That is a bloody great horn," John said and reached out to touch it. I shied away from him.
"Don't be a fool, John. You know how it is with unicorns. You are not qualified to touch one."
"You mean that's for real?"
"Aye, it is. Only a virgin can touch a unicorn. Anyone else winds up with an ass's hoof instead of a hand. You can change back again, lad. I think he's convinced."
"That I am. Okay, but what do you need from me?" John waited until I had re-taken my seat before offering me a Coke.
"I know what a unicorn is, sir. I don't know what a unicorn does. The other one didn't have a chance to fill me in. He said he was the land's guardian and now I am but how do I guard it and from what? And every animal in my neighborhood thinks they can come to me with all their problems because I'm the unicorn."
"I don't know either. Until a moment ago I never dreamed that unicorns were real. I've had enough experience with magic now, and the fairy realm, but I've never found a unicorn nor have I ever met anyone that has. Have you tried calling to another unicorn?"
"No, can I do that?" I asked, excited by the thought.
"According to some of the legends I've read."
With a thought, I closed my eyes, and tried reaching out with my thoughts to anyone else. I felt my forehead getting uncomfortably warm, but I kept concentrating. I did feel a tickle from very far away.
I tried focusing on that tickle. A full-grown stallion appeared in the room snorting. He stood up and pawed the air in front of the wizard.
"What have you done. You had no right to take me from my lands, wizard. You had..."
"Stop, I brought you here," I said standing up. The unicorn stared at me for a second then did the most perfect double take I had ever seen.
"Well, hello, beautiful!" At last, he dropped down to all fours and nuzzled my face.
"Don't even think it, mister."
"Don't play with me, I beg you. I have never seen such a lovely sight in my life. When you are grown I will be yours forever."
"Excuse me, sir," John said. "Our young friend here is new to this. He needed someone to teach him how to be a unicorn, and he called you."
"Thank the light for that. I felt the passing yesterday, but I never dreamed I'd find this waiting for me. It has been so long since we have had a new unicorn. I will do everything I can to help you, my dear."
"That's a relief. Can you send this leprechaun back to the fairy lands so I can see how it's done?"
"Your command." The unicorn's horn started to glow. He drew a door in the air and opened a path to a different world.
"Much obliged," Timothy said and quickly vanished through the opening.
"First," the unicorn told me, "let's get rid of that ugly human body of yours."
"What do you mean? I like this body. It's the only one I have."
"But you are one of us now. You have no need for that shape, and it is hardly becoming, my dear."
"I will keep this shape. Thanks, John, I'll -- see you around." Before the man could answer I was called to follow the stallion away. I changed to unicorn and left.
I felt the same envelope of silence surround us as the unicorn led through the wizard's front door. We shot into the air like a comet, blazing golden light behind us like a tail. In seconds I could see the earth as a globe spinning around in its course as others joined us in the gallop. From the far reaches of the world the unicorns came until the herd numbered twenty.
Underneath us I could see glowing points of lights on the earth's surface that showed the area belonging to each unicorn. Mine was the mid-Atlantic coast from Delaware through the Carolinas.
"That is mine," each unicorn told me, in turn, as an introduction. They had no names as such except for individual smells and thought patterns.
At least I wouldn't wind up being called "Starflower" or "Windwalker" or something. I felt the power around us growing stronger as I was taken on a tour not only of earth but the old fairylands as well.
There, through the various layers of worlds we found more unicorns, of course, those that had decided to give up guardianship for the life of the herd.
For the first time I realized the extent of the unicorn's gift to me. I now had the power to tap into creation itself. The beauty of the moment and the grandeur of the guardians touched me to the bottom of my soul. I could accept myself as a unicorn and part of this intense force of nature, but I had no idea why I was chosen.
I had always been an average kid. I got good grades at school but nothing to brag about. I had friends before, but now I had a herd. I was now part of what seemed to be a losing battle to protect the world from the humans' constant growth.
I had a vision in a blinding flash of light. I saw the unicorns, myself included, reclaiming the earth after the last human was gone, and I knew that perhaps I really did have just short of forever to win the war.
I touched down again deep in the woods a few miles from my house. Now, I felt, I knew what my job was.
Saturday morning I excused myself after breakfast, told Mom I'd be gone most of the day, and took off. I surrounded myself with the unicorn shield, changed shapes and took off for a tour of my area.
Boy, I had a lot of work to do.
I live right in the middle of the Shenandoah Valley. Far away enough from the cities of Northern Virginia to be rural, but still close enough to have easy access to everything. As I moved further and further away from home, I used my horn to claim the land as mine, and to bring back what I could. I knew I could never cover the entire area at once so I would have to divide it into sections and work on one section at a time.
At home again, I grabbed every map I could find of the area, and took them to my room to make a plan. I sketched out what I wanted to do, and ran downstairs for lunch. All I wanted was another couple of bowls of granola. I knew I was now a growing unicorn, but I hoped I wouldn't lose my taste for other foods. I stopped in the bathroom and screamed at my reflection.
The bump on my forehead now stuck out several inches. I reached up and made the thing vanish again, but I would have to be more careful in the future about checking my appearance.
For the rest of the weekend, I worked at litter removal. I started in the park with a trash bag and a jabber and went from there. I just picked up the litter and dissolved the small stuff, the cigarette butts and organic trash, into component parts.
On Sunday night I took another run with my fox. We ran through the wood with one goal in mind. "Here," he said and sat down on his haunches to scratch an ear. I looked out over the stretch of road and had to agree. A dozen animal trails all converged here to cross the road. And this was where so many bodies were found the next morning.
I built a crossing underneath the road. I made sure the tunnel was large enough for badgers and porcupines. The dogs and the deer would still have to contend with the cars, but they had much more of a chance. I ran through the tunnel a couple of times, packing in the earth and making sure it would withstand the weight from a lot of traffic.
"It's done," I said and marked the tunnel with a touch of power. "I want you to use this too."
"Whatever you say," he said with such an impish grin I had to believe him.
We placed two more crossings along the main road, and I made a note of a few more places that I could get on my way in to school in the morning.
I stared at the mirror not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. My mouth and nose had grown -- a lot -- overnight. I had the beginnings of a fine muzzle. My teeth looked larger still. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't reshape my face, and I couldn't hide them like I did the horn.
"Are you going to be in there all day? I thought you wanted to leave early." Mom opened the door. "Are you okay in here?"
"Yeah, I was just washing up."
I followed her out to the kitchen. At least she hadn't noticed the changes. I gulped down three bowls of cereal. I grabbed my new canvas garbage bag and jabber and headed for the door.
"Brian? How long has it been since you've seen a dentist? It looks like your teeth are growing much too fast for your face."
I shrugged. "They feel fine, and the better to eat veggies with."
"I guess, but I'll make an appointment."
Great. So Mom had seen the changes and probably everyone else would too. I've been called worse than "horse-face" and no one would see the bloody great horn, but... I went to work.
I had just finished my third cross through tunnel, when I checked my watch and looked up to see a park policeman heading toward me.
"What in the world is going on here, and how did that happen?" He pointed in the direction of the entrance.
"I did that. It's an animal crossing. I followed the animal trail here, and put that in so they can run under the road instead of under tires."
He shook his head and studied my trash bag. "You're the one that's been cleaning up around here?"
"Yeah, I figured someone had to do it so it might as well be me."
"Do you have permits for all this?"
"Sure do," I said. "You'd think they'd be happy to have me cart off this litter and stuff for free, but no." I reached into a pouch in my bag and pulled out two stacks of papers that hadn't been there a moment before.
"It looks in order. Okay, keep up the good work, son."
I had more than enough opportunity to do so. Because of the mounting costs of the air conditioning repair, summer vacation started a week early. I took the time to post signs all over town.
The Unicorn Club
Lend a hand or a hoof.
Keep our parks clean.
Anyone who wants to help
Please call
Brian Trent.
I added a few unicorn graphics, and waited, but I didn't get any takers. During the week I did get a lot of city officials stopping me and asking what I was doing. They all had the same thing to say.
"The city isn't responsible for this. It isn't in the budget at all this year."
"Have I sent anyone a bill? The city doesn't care, but I do, so I'm responsible for it."
One reporter gave me a nice write up in the Sunday paper, but it still didn't get anyone else interested in helping. I also read a lot of letters to the editor using me to complain about the mayor and the city government for not caring about the city grounds.
Nothing happened, though, until I met the girl in the clearing. I had moved away from parks and was working on the woods when I found her. I knew the girl was from my school and she wasn't the type to sit out on the grass for very long without moving. I walked over collecting the litter.
"Hi, Taylor what are you doing out here?"
She raised a finger to her lips and sooshed me. "Be quiet, you little creep. I'm waiting for the unicorn."
I laughed. "That would be me. Did you see my posters for the Unicorn Club?"
"There's a unicorn in these woods -- a real one. My folks are into magic and stuff and I'm going to catch it.
"You?" I said with another laugh. "Come on, Taylor, don't you know the rules? You're not a..."
"Of course I am," she said with a shake of her long brunette hair. "I only fooled around one time and that didn't count."
"Of course it did, and you know it. You're going to be waiting a real long time. But why would you want to catch a unicorn in the first place? Couldn't you just let it alone?"
"I would, but my folks want the horn. They say it's the single most powerful tool in the universe, and they want it bad. Now what am I going to tell them? And how did you know I wasn't a virgin?"
"Uh, Taylor, that's not the kind of secret boys keep."
She stood up. "I'll kill him. I will so totally destroy that little... Have you seen the unicorn?"
"Yes, Taylor, and the dragons and griffins that live in the woods too. I talk to her all the time, and that's why I named my club after her and that's why I know you're wasting your time. She isn't interested."
"Oh, go pick up trash, creep. Just think, you've already reached your career potential."
"And so have you," I said, but under my breath.
To make matters worse, the next day two park policeman and two guys in suits came to my house from the Mayor's office.
"The Mayor is very proud of you son, and he wanted me to give you this award for your initiative and all your hard work on behalf of the city grounds."
Mom sounded impressed. "Please tell His Honor that we are proud to accept. Brian has really taken this to heart and is planning many more improvements to the grounds."
"That's just the point, Mrs. Trent. Mayor Korgan appreciates all your work, Brian, but do you have any idea what a commotion this had made? The Mayor's office has been swamped with calls about having you out there all by yourself doing the city's job. So, from now on, Mayor Korgan is asking you to stop, cease and desist. The city is going to take over trash pick up and removal and place the animal crossings."
"Okay, but when the city gets the bill don't come crying to me about it. I must have saved you guys thousands of dollars."
Since I was out of a job, so to speak, I went out to the woods, found the exact center of the area and started a different task. I changed long enough open a doorway to another world. I stepped through the opening into a quiet forest clearing. At one end I saw a waterfall that must have been twenty feet tall. I was tempted to stand underneath it.
I walked over the river and lowered my head for a drink. I stared at my reflection for a while still amazed by the sheer beauty of the unicorn.
"So you made it through, did you laddie -- oh, well lassie is it? Glad to see you again."
I stared at the leprechaun. "I came here to get away from people, even tiny ones. How are you, Tim?"
"As fine as ever, Miss. I was looking however for a ride back to see our John."
This time, I lowered my head further to jab my horn in his direction. "Tell me something, Tim, what do you see when you look at me?"
"A vision of loveliness to be sure. A fine unicorn filly with such..."
"Cool it. I meant, when you look at me do you see a taxicab?"
"Ah, point taken, Miss, but since you are going back and it is so hard for the likes of me to go through..."
"Gold. Five gold pieces a ride. Sounds like a winner to me."
"You drive a hard bargain, but what would a unicorn as lovely as you need with gold?"
"I'm a part time human, remember, and I can think of a million things I can do with gold."
"But couldn't you just call up all you need with that horn?"
"Of course, but then why should I pay me for a ride? It's your gold I want, not mine. See, I give you something you want and you give me something I want. That's called a trade."
"Highway robbery is what that is called, young lady and don't forget it. I'll pay, but I won't be asking you for help anytime soon."
"I can live with that." I changed back to myself, pocketed the money, and let the leprechaun back into my pouch. "I..." My stomach itched. I scratched and scratched but the itch would not go away. I pulled up my T-shirt and stared at a patch of milk white hair on my tummy.
"Since you will not be needing the gold much longer..."
"I need it now." I walked back through the gate and straight to the wizard's house. I knocked on the door.
"Well, welcome back. Brian, isn't it? Saw your picture in the paper the other day. Makes sense that you would be the one to run a clean up campaign around here. Come in."
"And not even a word for your old friend, Timothy? It's just hello to the beastie and not even a thought about the leprechaun."
"I need your help," I said quickly. I waited until he had closed the door behind me before I pulled up my shirt again. "I can't get rid of it."
"After your rather spectacular exit the last time you were here, I wondered if you even want to be human again. Let's look... You have a spell on your forehead." I dropped it so he could see the horn. "And the beginnings of a tail," he said pointing to a bump I hadn't noticed.
"I don't want to be a unicorn full time. I like being me, I mean, the human me. How can I tell my Mom?"
"I think you had better. I'm not sure if there is much I can do for you, if your magic can't, but try this." He said a few words making the hair and bumps vanish.
"You did it." I said. "What did you do?"
"A simple illusion, only. I don't know if this will help as your changes become more drastic. Being a unicorn doesn't strike me as too terrible a change."
"No, it isn't, but... I'd better get used to the idea. Thanks for the help."
****
I walked through the park kicking trash out of my way. After a month, the place looked just as bad as when I started. I had yet to see anyone picking up trash, but I just knew the cops would come out of nowhere to stop if me if I tried.
Something was wrong. I hurried back to the woods and down the road until I found a work crew with shovels and a bulldozer. I broke into a run. They were working on my first animal crossing.
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Beat it kid, we're trying to fill this in." One of the men said, and I watched as still others tried to shovel dirt into the tunnel entrance. The shovels stopped in mid-air and all the dirt scattered to one side or the other.
"Aren't you the kid that built this?"
"That's me. And no one is filling that in."
"We're under orders from the Mayor's office. We have to close these crossing because they don't meet the new code requirements and then we will start on the new ones."
"Oh, that's just great. The animals around here use them and they don't care if they meet your code. How long will it take you to get the new ones built?"
"We expect to finish in about two years. My company has to do an environmental study to determine the best placement for the crossings and then we need..."
"Two years?" I shouted. "But what are the animals going to do in the mean time?"
"Until then they will have to use the road."
I had a clear vision of me, pawing the air, with head lowered, ready to tilt against the bulldozer.
"This is too stupid for words." I don't know if the fury I felt showed up on my face, but the men stepped back. "No one is touching these crossings -- period." The power flowed from my forehead.
"What's going on?"
Everyone turned to see a reporter and TV cameraman. "Oh, hi, you're the news guy from channel six. I'm Brian Trent and these guys are trying to close down the animal crossings I made."
"Look, kid, we have work to do, and you are in the way. I don't know what you did here, but you had better stop it."
I told the news guy my story and even showed him the animal tracks at the other entrance while the cameraman took pictures of the crew's wasted efforts. I felt my tail twitching underneath the illusion. "It isn't a big issue but a great story about the city. I'm fighting city hall and this time I intend to win."
As more people gathered to see what was going on in the park, the news guy called the cameraman over and started recording. "This is David Channing with Channel Six news. I'm here today in the Bennett Memorial Park with a young man intent on fighting City Hall. This is Brian Trent and you may remember a story we did last month about young Brian's efforts to clean up the park."
The cameraman backed off and showed the new batch of litter and debris on the ground.
"Well, Brian, it looks as if you've been falling down on the job."
"Not me. The Mayor ordered me to stop picking up the litter. I wanted to do it, and I must have carted out hundreds of bags of trash from the park and the woods, but that wasn't good enough. The Mayor said he was getting a crew to come out and do the job but I haven't seen them yet."
"And what's going on over there?"
"While I was on the job I dug out animal crossings at six points around the park and the woods. I was tired of seeing so many animals as road kill and I wanted to help. I made the crossings and the number of deaths is down to almost nil.
"Now the Mayor is having those guys fill in my crossings until they can study the issue and build new ones. That's going to take years, and in the mean time the animals will have to use the road again."
"So it looks like all of your hard work has been for nothing."
I felt myself starting to shake. "Not this time. I don't see one good reason why they can't wait until the study is done and they are ready to build the new crossings before they close mine. I'm afraid that the study will show I picked the right locations for the crossings. Two years from now they will just unplug mine, claim all the credit and waste probably hundreds of thousands of tax dollars."
"Do you have anything to say to the Mayor?"
"Yes, I do. Mayor Korgan, maybe you are trying to help and maybe you just don't care, but stay out of this. This is going to kill thousands of animals over the next two years and there isn't any reason why."
"Thank you, Brian." The news guy left me to walk over to the crew.
"You're on the air. I'm David Channing from Channel Six news. Are you the foreman?"
"Larry Thomas, and yes, I'm in charge here." He blinked as I gave him a little nudge about telling the truth.
"Why are these animal crossings being closed?"
"They don't meet the new code," Larry said quickly. "Now up until last week there wasn't a code for animal crossings at all, and I've got to say that the kid did a great job on these. Brian, isn't it? Get yourself a degree in Engineering and you're going places. But, as I was saying the Mayor wants them closed."
"How much is all this going to cost the city?" I asked.
"Forty thousand per crossing, and we've got the contract for all six. Most of the money is going for the study to determine the best locations for the crossing."
"And after the study?" I asked.
"Oh, we're coming right back here, unplugging these tunnels and shoring them up with some bricks. Two years from now no one will remember your work, son, and the Mayor can take all the credit for being so sensitive to the environment.
"They already have a survey showing your tunnels were about a hundred yards away from the real sites so that no one can say we just used them again."
"And this is costing forty thousand per tunnel?" David asked.
"You got that straight. We work for the Mayor's brother-in-law so he can pad the bill all he wants."
"How many contractors put in bids for this work?" David shoved the microphone closer.
"Are you kidding? The Mayor doesn't take bids from anyone outside the family. He gave his brother the litter clean up job at one hundred thousand a year, and you can see the quality of that work. It's the city's money after all."
"What was that?" David said and tapped his ear piece. "The Mayor's office just called the station, and His Honor is on his way here to rebut Mr. Thomas' statements. Back to you, Kevin, and we will be standing by."
"What did I say?" Larry asked.
"Probably enough to get the Mayor and his whole family busted. Can you stick around, Brian?"
"You'd better believe it. I want to hear this, too."
Twenty minutes later the crowd made way for the Mayor's limousine. Mayor Korgan climbed out of the car as the cameraman began shooting again. Several other news people followed in the Mayor's wake.
"This is David Channing reporting live from Bennett Memorial Park. His Honor, Mayor Korgan has arrived and he doesn't seem happy. Your honor? Did you hear the statements made by Larry Thomas earlier?"
"Yes, I did..." He blinked as I gave him a double dose of truth telling, "and I wanted to assure the good people of this city that -- that forty thousand dollars is a very reasonable figure for this kind of work. And that I am going to take all the credit for young Brian's work. Don't give me that look, young man, it's politics, pure and simple."
"Mr. Mayor, is it true that you hired your family for these two projects?"
"Of course. That's part of the game. I set them up in dummy corporations, and it's really simple to fix bids after all.
I'm not going to let that kind of money out of my family."
"How much do you get out of all this?" I asked.
"Ten thousand per tunnel and twenty five thousand per year for the litter clean up. Well, I see your point about the litter, son. My brother has always been a lazy son of a bitch. I've already paid him out the first hundred grand on this project and he had better not have spent it all. I don't think he's hired anyone yet, but it will get done."
"Do you always get money back on these contracts?" I asked.
"Of course. Kickbacks are a part of being in politics, and I don't know anyone in city government that isn't getting his share. I didn't spend half a million dollars on my campaign last year for nothing. The suckers -- well should I say taxpayers? -- gave me the keys to the city treasury and I intend to empty it while I'm in office."
I shook my head. "It's one thing to steal from the taxpayers, sir, but what about the animals? Why close the tunnels?"
"I've got to prove that the tunnels we build, if we build them at all, aren't yours. I couldn't stand an audit right now. So, we lose a few animals? You get roadkill all the time and there's nothing we can do about and still keep all that money in my pocket."
"That's all you care about?"
"It's my retirement I've got to think about, son, and not worry about the animals. Go hug a tree if it will make you feel better, but I don't care. And stop giving me that look. Your mother was involved in a lot of these deals."
"Did she know about your kickbacks and everything?" I asked worried.
"No, but..." He snapped his fingers. "It will take that long to make it appear that she did. If you say one word about this to anyone she will take the blame. What would your life be if she's in jail?"
"Mr. Mayor? Do you realize that you've just blackmailed a twelve-year-old boy on the news?" Larry Thomas cut in.
"I'm sure the boys here can be reasonable about that tape."
"What tape?" David said. "This is a live broadcast, your honor. From what I'm hearing from the station the phones are ringing off the hook, and it looks like the network will pick up on this for the evening news. Headline, Bennett City: Mayor Korgan shamed out of office by twelve-year-old. Would you like to tell us, for the record, who else on your staff is taking kickbacks?"
The Mayor started naming names. All I could do was stand there, with a huge grin on my face for the cameras. That will teach them to mess around with this unicorn. My work there was done. I decided to leave the truth spell in place on the Mayor. He needed it.
When I walked in the kitchen door, Mom was waiting for me. From the look on her face I thought I had better duck before she hit me. "What are you trying to do to me? Don't you know that is how I make my money too?"
"But Mom, I didn't do anything -- really. The Mayor was the one that spilled the beans. Didn't you hear what he said about giving you the blame?"
"Yes, I did, but still... Go to your room. I'll deal with you later."
"Can I take a shower first? I really need it." I didn't wait for her reply. I headed for the bathroom and took off my clothes.
I dropped the illusion and studied myself in the mirror. It wouldn't be long before the change was complete, and then what? My legs stretched several inches and my feet starting to feel hard. My tail reached the floor, and my ears were stretching up over my head. Odder still my white coat had covered my chest and even my nipples were gone.
I climbed into the shower and let the water steam. I scrubbed down, but all I could think about was standing under the waterfall I had seen on the other side. I wanted to do that -- a lot. In fact, as soon as I could get back I would. I could just feel the water rushing through my mane and tail.
"Brian, what on earth are you doing in here to make such a racket. It sounds like you're breaking the tub." She pulled back the shower curtain and screamed.
For the first time I realized I had changed to unicorn in the shower and that my hooves were clattering on the non-skid ceramic.
It took a moment, but Mom recovered enough to reach into the shower and turn off the water. "Oh my god."
"Mom, it's me." I changed back to myself and with as much dignity as I could manage I reached for a towel. I started to wrap it around my waist when I screamed. My coat now covered my entire front and nothing was left.
Although I knew that this was going to happen, somehow I never quite believed it. The sight of my smooth crotch made me cry out. "Mom, I'm a girl."
She held me for a moment. "You'd better dry off. What happened here?"
"It's a long story."
"I'll bet it is. Okay, Brian, I'll meet you in the kitchen. I'm going to make some coffee, and I will want a full explanation."
I dressed first in my illusion, then in my clothes. I walked out to the kitchen, grabbed a soda from the fridge and took a long drink.
"Sit down, young man, and tell me why I saw a unicorn in our shower."
When I finished she refilled her cup. "So, you're a unicorn -- a female unicorn. You can change shapes to anything except back into a human. Not only that but you have been to the Fairy realm and you've even carted a leprechaun back and forth. You know a local wizard, and you put a truth spell on Mayor Korgan to make him confess to all those crimes."
"That's pretty much it."
"The only reason you look like yourself now is because of an illusion, and we both saw that you are no longer a boy. You can't change back into your old self, but could you change into a girl?"
"I never thought about it." I concentrated and it worked. I felt my hair grow down past my shoulders as the rest of my body pulled into new curves.
"Oh, Brian, you're beautiful. Perhaps we had better do some shopping for new clothes."
"Not a chance, Mom. I'm not a girl, and I'm not about to wear skirts and things. From the way I'm changing I won't need clothes at all for much longer."
"I understand, but even when you change all the way what are you going to do? Go live in the woods? Sweetheart, you haven't even finished middle school, and as Brianna you won't have to worry about someone seeing through your illusion."
My cheeks flushed. "I could change the paperwork, but..." I had a sudden thought. I closed my eyes and changed back to myself then again, but this time I changed back all the way to a human male. "It worked. I'm me again, at least, for a while. I won't be able to maintain this shape for very long, but enough to make it through school. I don't know anything about being a girl."
"But you have a month and a half to learn. Since you are a female underneath that shape you really should plan for it."
"I guess, but..." To avoid Mom's glare I changed back to female. This was going to be confusing.
Over the next couple of days I officially changed from Brian to Kimberly and I called up a new set of records from school and everywhere else. I found I really liked the girl in the mirror, although it took longer before I was comfortable with the clothes Mom had bought me.
An emergency election was being held to replace the Mayor and most of the City government. Mayor Korgan was not a popular man about town anymore. I made it a point to attend to the debates between the new candidates, just as I made it a point to start picking up the litter again. I became the second member of the Unicorn Club since my cousin Brian was out of town for the rest of the summer.
"There," Mom said as she came in from the back yard wiping her hands. "It's done."
"What?"
"Your stable. Judging from your looks you are going to need one, and soon, Kim. I mean, you do make a gorgeous girl, and an even prettier unicorn, but unicorns really should sleep outside, don't you think?"
"I guess, but I haven't changed all the way yet."
She sipped at her coffee. "That's what I've been thinking about."
"Uh oh. Am I going to like this?"
"You should. Look, Kim, you seem to be fighting this change, and that can't be good for you. Have you ever considered changing and getting it over with instead of staying as long as you can in between? As a unicorn you can easily change back and forth to human for a while," she pointed out.
"Yes, but it's still hard for me to accept being a full time animal, and a part time human. I..."
Mom walked over to the cabinets and pulled out a tray. A moment later she covered the tray with oat pellets and mash that made my mouth water. "It's horse chow," she commented as she held the tray just under my nose.
I opened my mouth and started eating. She led me away from the table and outside. All I could think of was chewing on the food, and I hardly noticed as my arms stretched into forelegs. I shook my head, closed my eyes and waited as Mom stood by. As I felt the change finished I lowered my head to finish breakfast.
"That's it. Thought this might do the trick."
For an instant, I saw bands of golden white light cross the morning sky. I felt power from the air and the earth surround me to acknowledge the change. I was truly the unicorn now, and ready for new life. As the power withdrew I let Mom take me over to check out the stable.
"Why don't you just stay like this for a while to get used to it," Mom suggested and I agreed. I still had my duties as a unicorn to follow, but it was easy enough to go about them hidden from the human world.
On the third morning after the change Mom brought three men out to the back yard instead of breakfast. I couldn't believe she would do this to me. I changed shape, and trotted out of my stable whinnying for my feed.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Mom asked. "My daughter found her and brought her back here. Just be careful with her, gentlemen. It's true what they say about unicorns and virgins."
"She is everything you said, and more," said one of the men. He walked up to me with his hand out. I took the lump of sugar from him, and let me pat me. He took his time examining me, and stood back. "What a waste of a good animal."
"I beg your pardon?" Mom asked.
"Mrs. Trent, let my colleagues take a look as well." The others also examined me and conferred with the first guy.
"It's a pity, but she probably won't live very long."
"What are you saying? She's a unicorn and they live just short of forever."
"Mrs. Trent, when you told us you had a unicorn the other day we thought this would be the case. She is beautiful, but she is a fake. Take a close look at the horn," he said and broke off the tip. Mom screamed.
"It's just old bone. See these little scars here on her forehead? Those are left over from the surgery that attached it. Her coat looks natural, but look here at her mane. The roots are showing and they care coming in as black."
"And you can see here," said one of the others. "Her hooves have been gilded and the gold is starting to flake off. It is a shame since she would have been such a beautiful horse. Here," he said and pressed against my forehead. I was ready for this, and screamed in pain. "Infection from the surgery has already set in, and I doubt if there is anything that can be done for her."
"Give our condolences to your daughter and make her comfortable for her last days. We can find out the way out, and thanks."
"But..." Mom glared at me as the men left. "What did you do?"
"Me? What did I do? You were going to sell me to them!"
"No, I was going to be your agent. Do you have any idea how much money you could bring in for us?"
With a thought, I brought in a shower of gold coins. "Is that enough for you? I have powers and powers but I'm not bulletproof, and people would kill -- really and truly kill me to get my horn. How could you do this to me, Mom? I am a unicorn and not a circus side show."
"Oh, Kim, I never meant it like that. We needed the money..."
I didn't wait for her excuse. I opened the gate to my waterfall and ran through it. She could wheel and deal all she wanted now but without me. I was a full time unicorn now, and I didn't need to go back to her. I didn't need to go back to the human world at all.
After an hour under the water, I felt better, changed back to human and went for a swim. I started to climb out on the far bank when I looked up to meet a pair of bright green eyes. A faun stood in the woods waiting for me to get out of the water. He looked to be my age, and he wore nothing but a grin. It was obvious what was on his mind.
"Nymph pretty," he announced.
"Unicorn nasty," I said right back as I changed back. He made room as I walked up the bank. 'What's your name?"
"Name?"
"Never mind." I walked for a while listening to the birdcalls and the chatter from the animals. The faun gave up on me after a while, and I did need the time alone. After a couple of hours I changed to human and walked back through my gate to my back yard. The gold coins were still lying on the grass.
"Mom?" I called out as I walked in the kitchen door. She ran in from the living room and hugged me for all she was worth.
"I thought I had lost you."
"I didn't think I'd be back this soon either, but I did cool off. I need to go away for a while. I'm going on a grand tour of all my area, and I'm going to fix what I can and take notes. It would be faster if I went by myself, but could we go by car?"
"Deal. The reporters are still calling for Brian, and I could use a vacation myself."
"Good, if you can stand having me as a unicorn, so can I. There are worse things, but come on. I've got a big job to do and just short of forever to do it in."
End of Part One.
"I'm a unicorn, Mom. It's a type of horse with a bloody great horn sticking out of it's forehead. There are two extremely handsome stallions that are ready to fight to the death over me when the time is right, and I don't -- do you hear me? I will not date outside my own species."
I slammed the kitchen door behind me, dropped the bag of groceries on the counter with another bang and gave my mother my best glare. "What part of 'no' don't you understand?" I half shouted.
"Now, Kimberly, there is no reason for you to behave this way," she said grabbing the bag before it fell over.
"You asked another creep of a boy to take me out?"
"Justin is a nice boy, the least you could do is go out one time? It's just a play date, after all, at your age."
"Get real, Mom. What planet are you on? Not a single boy that you've tried to set me up with believes that stuff about 'play' dates. They feel that you've given them permission to try and paw at me all afternoon. I'm not doing it, and I've told you and told you I wasn't doing it. How can I make you understand, mother, that I may be female, but I'm not a girl?"
"Of course you're a girl, sweetheart," she said but I shrugged off her attempted hug. "And a very pretty girl at that."
"No," I said and walked over to stare at the mirror on the kitchen door, a diet motivational aid. She was right -- even I could see that. Kimberly Trent was a pretty girl. I had shoulder length brunette hair, worn with a barrette, gorgeous brown eyes and a face that would launch a hundred ships at least. The only problem with this picture was that I had been born a boy, named Brian.
Turning away from the mirror, I dropped to all fours and took my true shape as a unicorn foal. As a filly, I stood as tall as a two month old horse. I was small enough to be comfortable in the small kitchen, although I did have to watch out for the horn.
"I'm a unicorn, Mom. It's a type of horse with a bloody great horn sticking out of it's forehead. There are two extremely handsome stallions that are ready to fight to the death over me when the time is right, and I don't -- do you hear me? I will not date outside my own species."
"But, Kim, it's for you."
"Oh, right, you want me to..." With a sudden thought, I did something I had been dying to do for the last two months. I changed back into my first self, a twelve year old boy.
"There," I said, reaching under my t-shirt to unfasten the bra. "Now, Mom, are you going to set me up with girls?" I pulled off the shirt, pulled off the bra, and dropped it into the trash can.
"Kimberly!" she took her turn at shouting. "What do you think you're doing? Change back this instant!"
"No way, Mom. You didn't answer my question. Now that I'm a boy again, are you going to set me up with girls?"
"Of course not, you're much too young for dating," she said quickly.
"If I'm too young to date girls, how come Kim isn't too young to date boys?"
"You don't understand, Kim -- Brian, whoever you are now." She walked over and sat down at the kitchen table.
I grabbed a soda from the fridge, and pulled back the ring.
"You want one?"
"No, thanks."
After a gulp of cola, I sat down across from her. "Okay, Mom. What don't I understand?"
"How can you stand being a boy again?"
"Because it's what I've known my whole life. I know how much you want me to be a girl, and I've tried and tried, but I hate dressing up in skirts and those fancy shoes you keep buying me, and I won't do it anymore."
"But that's just the point, sweetheart. You look so good dressed up, but I've never once seen you trying to do better. You refuse to wear make-up, and I admit you don't need anything but a hint of color, and you won't let me pierce your ears."
"I've told you the reasons for that," I cut in.
"I know, but I thought if I could just get you interested in a boy it might bring out your feminine side."
I shook my head. "Not going to happen, Mom. I'm not interested in boys -- human boys at least. You will get grand-foals soon enough, but until then..."
"You don't have to talk like that, Brian. You aren't an animal."
"Yes, I am. I'm proud to be a unicorn, and I wouldn't give it up for anything. But, when I'm human, I am either going to be a boy, or if I go back to being Kimberly I will be a tomboy. It's still summer time, and I'm going to wear shorts and sneakers not skirts and sandals."
"No. I can't have that, Kim," Mom said, and I could tell she meant business.
"Then it's settled. I changed all those pretty -- frilly things you bought me back into boy's clothes so you don't have to worry about buying me new stuff. At least now, when school starts, I don't have to worry about changing my records."
"Kimberly, I want you to change back into a girl, this instant."
"Not a chance. I tried it your way, I didn't like it and it just doesn't work. I was born a boy, and there is no power in the world that can make me change back. I don't have to be human, if it comes to that, and I don't have to live in this house."
"Go to your room, young man. I just wish your father was still around. I won't have you talking like that to me."
"Fine, I won't, but you still don't get it. I'm going out."
This time, I stormed through the kitchen door to the back yard.
That, I thought, was the straw that broke this unicorn's back. I cut a small hole in the fabric of space-time and stepped through to the other side. As always, I landed at my favorite spot, a large lake fed by a huge waterfall from the river above. I stripped out of my clothes, dove into the lake and swam for the other side. Once there, I changed to unicorn and climbed out of the water underneath the fall itself. The water did sting my hide, but gave it a great scrubbing and this was the one thing that could get me relaxed and calm me down again.
Mom knew me well enough that she wouldn't worry that I would cut out on her for real. I threatened a lot, but that was it. But she was just so irritating... The worst thing I could do now was to back down on being Brian again. I did need to let her know that I would stand up for myself, and I wasn't going to take any more of those creeps trying to maul me.
I looked up as I sensed a large group of humans passing close enough to the lake to be an issue if they came looking for water. I had no problem with the satyrs, nymphs or even the occasional leprechaun I had met here, but I didn't want the humans to find me, at least in unicorn shape. I changed back to human myself and made a quick dash across the lake for my clothes. At least I had chosen something gender neutral that morning so it wouldn't be an issue, and I wouldn't have to use magic to change, especially if there were any wizards in the group.
Just as I pulled my t-shirt over my head, I heard a gruff voice behind me. "Well, now, what do we have here?"
That was impossible. No one could have snuck up on me like that. I spun around to face a giant. He had to be seven or eight feet tall, and had a face to match. One eye looked half-closed by some weapon, and he did wear a long scar down the other cheek. He towered over me.
"Pretty one, aren't you? Lord Kalandros will pay through the nose for you."
"Who are you?" I demanded.
It must have sounded lame, because he laughed. "The name's Creel. I'm an authorized slave catcher for Lord Kalandros, your new owner, boy. Let's have a better look at you," he said and reached out a hand the size of a ham at me.
"Don't touch me," I warned him, backing up. "I'm not responsible for what happens if you do."
Creel grabbed me with both hands, lifted me off my feet and screamed as my defenses kicked in. Panicked, I changed back to unicorn, and kicked with my forelegs. I struggled until he dropped me again to stare first at his burnt hands. The hands quickly turned black and shriveled into hooves. He looked down at me, with his mouth open.
I shrugged back into human form. "Only a jackass would touch a unicorn like that, you jerk." He couldn't see my horn now, but he could see the spark of golden light that formed about a foot from my forehead to complete the spell.
"It won't be long until you look the part. Tell me about this Lord you work for."
"Stop this. I didn't know what you was. No one told me there was a unicorn in these woods, honest."
"Oh, man," I said and snapped my fingers. "I forgot to print up the flyers." I watched as the man's arm grew longer. He bent over and rested his hooves on the ground. "Tell me about Lord Kal -- whatever you said his name was."
"Kalandros. He owns most of the kingdom, and slaving's his biggest business. That's why he has so many authorized slave catchers. And I'm the best -- always have been."
"If it's that big a business do you have anyone left in this country that isn't a slave?"
He shook his head as his muzzle grew in, velvet with fur. "We go through once a year. We get a lot of strangers -- anyone unlucky enough to be out when I go through. You would have been the prize that made this trip worthwhile."
"Suppose I sell you back to this Lord Kalandros. I hope he treats his animals better than his slaves." The new donkey shook his head and started to bolt. "Calm down," I said. He had no choice but to obey. I called up a rope and bridle, placed it around the donkey's head and tied him fast to a tree.
Picking through Creel's clothes, I found a couple of heavy bags filled with gold coins. "I guess not -- too bad, so sad. But I need to do something with you, can't just let you wander around out here. There's lions and tigers and bears in these woods as well as unicorns, oh my."
"You're a thief as well?" he asked me as I packed away his gold. "What use would a unicorn have for gold?"
"Unlike you, I can turn to human when I need to, so I do have more use for it than you, Creel. You will remain a donkey for the rest of your life. That's just the way it works, so don't get yourself in a lather about how it's my fault. I warned you, and I didn't have to do that. Just get used to the idea that you're the one that's going to be bought and sold from now on. So, how do I get to be an authorized slave-catcher catcher?"
"If you weren't a unicorn I would have kicked you to death by now."
"And I love you too. I think I'll call you Sunflower," I said as I led the donkey away from the lake toward the rest of the humans.
"You would do that to me after this? At least, call me by my right name. I beg you."
"Sure. Okay, but don't blame me for that either. Let's find out how much a good donkey is worth around here."
A long caravan stood waiting in the middle of a dirt road that cut through the woods. I had never noticed the road before, but I had no reason to wander away from the lake, either. Four of the carts bore cages, overfilled with humans of all ages. The stench from the cages made me double over and throw up in the bushes long before we reached the first cart.
Four more carts appeared to have supplies, and the guards, about six of them, sat on the ground playing cards while their horses rested, upwind of the cages.
All four of the cages looked so filled that no one had the room to lay down at night. Nor did any of the captives have any choice about sanitation or cleanliness. The people at the edges of the cage could get some of it outside, but those in the middle had no choice but to use the straw that lined the bottom of the cages.
As I passed the first cart, the two horses that pulled it stiffened and dipped their heads. Nothing like giving away the game, I thought at them, but the second set did the same. The guards up front didn't notice, but the slaves in the pen had. Some of them even reached out hands through the bars to me.
"Help us, Lord, help us."
The horses also looked to me. "Help us, Unicorn."
I put my finger to my lips, quickly, and waved in a flood of healing energy that touched the horses, cleaning and tending their hundreds of cuts and sores, then did the same for the humans. Nothing could dampen the smell, but I did change all the straw for fresh. I turned my back, and led the donkey forward, and somehow, all of the smallest kids vanished from the pens, sent home with a gold coin from Creel's supply as compensation. The slaves quickly filled in the empty spaces, but kept silent.
The guards didn't move from their game as I walked up to them. One of them called out, "Hey, your Lordship, we've got company."
A moment later, a young man, with long, dark brown and carefully coiffed locks, poked his head out of the first supply cart. He pulled the rest of his bulk out after that. He looked to be about eighteen, and wore rich, dark red satin clothing with bright streaks of gold and silver thread catching the sunlight. It was all I could do not to laugh at him.
"And you might be?" he demanded.
"I am Brian, the son of Lord Trent. I'm heading for the market to sell my donkey. And you are?"
"I am Clark, nephew and heir to Lord Kalandros. Good looking animal."
"Sure is, and one of the best. His name is Creel..." I said before everyone from soldier to the youngest remaining slave broke out laughing. I swear if the donkey could blush he would have been red.
"Good name for the beast, lad. We too, have a donkey named Creel in our party, who is very late getting back," Clark commented. "If you care to ride with us, we will help you with the animal."
"Thanks," I said. "My father had a message for your uncle..." I paused and stared at Clark. I tied Creel to the back of the cart, and accepted Clark's hand up to the front of the cart. Not only was Clark a virgin, but she was a female as well. Most of the bulk was swaddling to make him seem more muscular.
"Nice disguise," I whispered to her.
Her face blanched. She glanced around, but none of the guards was paying us any attention. "How did you know?"
"I have my ways. I've had to pretend to be a girl before, so I have some idea what you're going through. It's not easy."
"Guards," Clark called out. "Creel can just as well catch up. We had better get back on the road."
"Whatever you say, your Lordship," the man said with so much disdain in his voice I wondered if he had guessed as well.
Drivers, roused from their naps, took their places on the rest of the carts while Clark settled in to drive ours. The guards spread out on the road ahead of us, with no one bringing up the rear. I wasn't about to ask, but I sent the rest of the kids home leaving those over sixteen in the cages. Once again, the slaves were quick to fill in the spaces, but all of them could breathe a little easier.
Creel noticed the sudden loss of numbers, and I heard him braying his protests.
Clark peered around to the back of the cart. "Certainly sounds like our Creel, too. What's the matter with the beast?"
I gave the donkey a firm glance. "Who knows?" I swear I could see the little daggers flying towards me from Creel's eyes. With everyone's attention on the donkey, I sent half the females home. This time, Creel didn't fuss.
We rode towards civilization for the rest of the afternoon, making good time -- I hoped. I wasn't worried about getting home late. Time ran, as the old stories said, differently between the two worlds. We made camp as twilight settled in.
Clark made all the men help, and I joined in too, yet it was still a struggle as they took "His Lordship's" personal tent from the cart and set it up. The pavilion looked big enough to hold everyone, including the slaves, but she made it clear that I was the only one that would share it with her. She ignored the sound of the men laughing.
"Better watch your backside tonight, laddie," a couple of the soldiers told me as we finished setting up camp. The designated cook had a fire going, and several pots of something pasty and gray bubbling for the slaves. On a separate fire, a large pot filled with stew simmered for the rest of us.
"That's strange," one of the guards said. "I could swear that we had more slaves in the pens than those. Didn't Creel bring in a bunch of kids, too?"
The others shrugged and looked at the pens. "And more women than that," another commented. "Who's been watching the carts, anyways?"
"Check with Creel when he gets back," another said. "They couldn't have gotten out. And where would they go out in these woods?"
The men relaxed and I watched the relief on Clark's face.
"Nasty business," she muttered. "My uncle would kill us if we came in empty handed, but all Creel brought in were kids, women and old men."
I took a bowl of stew and half a loaf of bread. "What happens to them?"
"Uncle sells them wherever he can. The best of the lot he usually keeps for himself," Clark said with a shudder.
"My father doesn't do this at home. How many slave catchers does your uncle have?"
Clark laughed. "To listen to Creel, he's the only one, but actually there are five. Any more and we'd run out of people to tend the land."
Sometime during the night the rest of the slaves vanished from the pens. In the morning, the guards found the cages broken into pieces. Creel's supply of gold was almost gone as well, but then I didn't need it.
"Must've been a raid," the men decided and explained to Clark. "Probably Jargan wanting the slaves himself. If Creel were here this wouldn't have happened, but without him..." he trailed off in a shrug.
"He will have a lot to answer for, when and if he does return," Clark retorted. "At least they left us the horses and, of course, the better Creel."
"Are you still going to the market?" I asked.
"Where else can we go?" Clark answered. "Without Creel we have no hope of getting those slaves back. The King's Laws are very strict on that. Only an authorized slave catcher may catch a slave."
"You know," I said. "It makes a lot more sense to hire the people you need than to buy them."
"Yes, it does, but you don't know my uncle."
"But I want to meet him," I said. "I promised my father to sell my donkey to him and to no other." Creel brayed and shook his head, and Clark laughed.
"Your Creel certainly has more sense than ours."
That afternoon, Lord Kalandros examined the carts and the broken pens. Fat and flab covered the man from his cheeks to his toes, and his little piggy eyes darted from face to face constantly. He raised his right hand, covered with rings, and pointed at Clark.
"Well?"
"A raid, my Lord. Creel vanished somewhere in the woods yesterday and without him we couldn't hold the others off. We think this is the work of Jargan but we aren't sure of that."
I looked around the city, surprised by the wide streets and large houses every where. The shops looked clean and inviting, and I could smell meats cooking in the Inn across the street from us. Kids ran back and forth along the streets laughing and playing.
From my seat on the cart, I could look up a broad avenue to Lord Kalandros' castle, a huge thing built of dark gray and black stone, the looked over the city and the surrounding countryside.
Clark had been right. Lord Kalandros had been waiting for us when the carts pulled into the city and he did blow his lid when he saw the pens empty and broken.
"Who is this?" he asked, finally calming enough to point at me.
"Brian, the son of Lord Trent, Uncle. His father sent him to your market with that donkey."
"My father is well," I said quickly, "and he sends his regards, my Lord. I think you met him last year at court?"
"Yes, yes, I remember. That donkey will bring a fair price, I think..." he said looking over the pens. "But not nearly the price that you will bring. Guards, take that boy to the holding pens for the sale tomorrow. At least we will see some profit for this trip."
"Uncle," Clark protested. "He's a nobleman's son. You can't be serious."
"Would you care to join him in the pens, boy?" His glare silenced Clark. "Then be quiet."
"My father will not tolerate this," I said, standing up in the cart.
"A minor lordling with little influence in court. Take him now."
I jumped down, and stared at the guards. "Don't worry, guys. I won't fuss, but you, Lord Kalandros, you'd better listen up. I can break you and throw you out on the street and all this will be -- um -- gone with the wind."
"Bluster all you want. Take the donkey to the stables, and the boy to the pen. Now."
The guards led me to the castle and below to the slave holding pens. At least I wouldn't be alone. There were hundreds of people in the pens with me. The men shocked me when they put me in a private and clean cell. I guess it was from my "noble" birth -- or they just didn't want to risk having the prize slave get hurt.
About two minutes after the guards had left the area, I heard a voice from somewhere in the cell.
"As I live and breathe. Brian, my lad, what are you doing in this Light-forsaken hole?"
I spun around, then stared at the tiny person that appeared in the bars of my cell door. "Tim? What are you doing here?"
"Trying to understand why you're here, my lad."
"Long story. I was at my favorite waterfall and some creep named Creel tried to put the snatch on me, and you know what happens when someone who isn't pure touches me. I couldn't just let a donkey wander around those woods to be eaten by lions or something, so I sold him to Lord Kalandros who threw me in here."
"You turned Creel, the slave catcher into a donkey?"
"Yes," I said with a long sigh. "Weren't you paying attention? I said that I was at my favorite waterfall..."
"I got that part, laddie me buck. Lord Kalandros is a powerful man. So why aren't you back at your waterfall?"
"Think he's more powerful than me?"
The leprechaun shook his head. "I don't like the sound of that, lad. Your power isn't something that you should throw around. I can see getting rid of vermin like Creel, but you can't save the world."
"This may not save the world either, but getting rid of this Kalandros guy couldn't hurt. I know not to overuse my power, but sometimes it's necessary. I want to stop the slave trade here and I am going to do it. Do you know where he keeps his vaults?"
"Oh, aye lad, that I do. But only a fool would try for that... Or a thick headed unicorn. What do you need all that gold for anyway?"
"To give out to all these slaves for their trouble. I told Kalandros I'd break him if he tried to make me a slave and I'm going to do just that." I opened the door of the cell.
"You coming with me?"
"I'd better," he said.
I walked along the damp passages where Tim directed, since I didn't think he'd pass on a chance for gold. "Tim?"
"What?"
"Why can't I save the world? This world needs saving, too. I mean back home I can't do much except take care of my area, but as soon as I get one part cleaned up and start to work on another people just mess the first part up again. The other unicorns are great, but kind of standoffish, you know? All they care about it is their areas, and they never want to do things as a group or anything. I know, I've asked. We could get together and really do something for our world, but no... They won't. So why not this world?"
"Because people are thick headed, like you -- stubborn, like you -- and they don't know what's best for them. It's not your job to tell them, either. They need to blunder and make their own way. Now as I see it, laddie, you do have a lot of power. You can do almost anything you please, and heaven help the rest of us, but power, see, is addictive. Once you start using it, you can't stop. Sure enough, Lord Kalandros is a nasty piece of work, but where does it stop if you take him out? Lord Belgarion is just as nasty, although he doesn't sell slaves, instead taxing his people into poverty. Would you take him out because it's the right thing to do?"
I laughed. "I see your point. Power corrupts and all that, and what's to stop me from turning Lord So and So into a tree because he jaywalked? But I want to do something. I can't at home. Maybe I could make a difference here, even if I don't save the whole world."
"Well, now, laddie, that is something. But now you have me to guide you along the straight and narrow so it will work."
"Thanks, Tim, you don't know how much that means to me," I said. I meant it too -- more or less.
A guard snapped to attention in front of us. "Who goes there?"
"We're going to the vaults. Would you mind leading the way and opening the door when we get there?"
The guard stared at me, puzzled. Then, a smile spread across his face as he eyes glazed over. "Of course not, lad. This way."
"Now that, I have to admit, is a very useful talent," Tim commented.
"We're going to the vaults," the guard announced to the others as we walked out of the slave pens into the castle proper. I used a touch of power to make us inconspicuous as we walked. The rest of the castle staff took it for granted that we had genuine business there.
Down two flights of steps, into the depths of the earth, the guard led us to the massive doors that blocked the treasure room. With a quick command to the officer on duty, the doors were opened and the men stepped aside to let me enter the room.
"Jesus, Joseph and Mary," Tim said and whistled as we took our first look at the tonnage of gold Lord Kalandros had accumulated from the slave trade. In room after room, we counted thousands of piles of gold coins and ingots that were taller than me.
"No wonder he didn't think I could break him," I said. With a word, the gold vanished down to the last bit of dust.
"And just where did you send all that boodle?"
"Someplace safe. Don't worry, you can have as much as you want," I said feeling generous. "Within reason," I added. I felt generous, not foolhardy.
We walked out of the room. "Are there any more vaults like this?"
The first guard shook his head. "Why would his Lordship need more? That much wealth dazzles the mind, doesn't it, boy?"
"I'll say." I questioned the other guards. Satisfied that we had taken everything there was to take, I asked the first guard to take us back to the slave pens.
"Get up. Get up," a guard yelled and banged the door to my cell open. "His Lordship wants to see you."
"Huh?" I asked and rubbed my eyes. "Before breakfast? Is he crazy?"
The man half shoved, half dragged me out of the cell to the main holding pen. "And what do you know about that?" he asked and pointed to the huge hole in the wall that had let hundreds of slaves walk out of the castle. The fact that each slave had a considerable amount of gold from the vaults when they left had not been discovered -- yet.
"Looks like you've got a bad problem with mice, or maybe termites," I said with a shrug. "Definitely mice," I added as a swarm of rodents crawled through the opening from the outside.
The guard slammed the door closed. "Now what do we do?"
"I'd get a lot of cheese," I said. "You know, before they go for the door and the rest of the walls."
"What's going on here?" asked another guard. "It's almost time for the auction."
"The slaves are all gone, except this one. There's a million mice in there that ate holes right through the wall. Don't know if the slaves ran away or got eaten."
The new guard went for the door in spite of our warnings and opened it. The rush of mice from the other side knocked him off his feet and to the floor. Seconds later the mice covered him and ran on in a mad rush upstairs. A couple of the mice glanced at me.
"We do good, unicorn?"
"You're doing great, guys," I thought back at them. "Head for the kitchen now."
The guard screamed as he tried to brush the creatures off without getting bitten.
"That's odd," I commented and looked through the doorway. "Where are the rats?"
"Here, unicorn, here," came a slightly deeper voice as a swarm of rats followed the mice out of the room. The guard on the floor fainted from the new threat. Following the mice up the stairs, the rats bowled over two more guards and Lord Kalandros, who were on the way down.
"My Lord," the first guard shouted and ran to help the man.
"The slaves have escaped and rats and mice have torn a huge hole in the outside wall."
We heard, but ignored, the screams that were drifting down the stairs.
"Hey, Lord Kalander," I called out. "Don't you have any exterminators around here?" The man glared at me as he trod the rest of the way down.
The second guard got to his feet. "The vermin are attacking the whole castle, my Lord."
A deep bell rang out from underneath us. The gongs were loud enough to make the floor shake and vibrate from the noise. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later three guards came running through but skidded to a stop at the sight of the fat man.
"My Lord," one said, panting. "My Lord. The vaults are empty. The guards on duty say that no one went near the door, but we found a huge tunnel cut into the wall from the surface."
"My Lord," another man yelled and joined us. "The damage is getting worse. Holes are being cut through the outside walls at every turn. We must get everyone out of the building at once, before it falls.
"You, boy," Lord Kalandros growled and pointed at me. "You threatened to break me. What do you know about this?"
"Me? I was locked up in a cell last night. What could I know about this?"
The castle shuddered as huge sections of the lower walls fell. Lord Kalandros looked around. "Upstairs, now. Get everyone out. You. Tie up that boy and bring him with us."
"No need," I said. "I'm so out of here." The guard didn't wait for another command.
With the fat man leading the way, we pushed up and out of the castle along with a steady stream of people, slaves and rodents. I turned to watch the building crumble. I knew it wouldn't fall until everyone was out, but they didn't know that.
"Uncle, what happened?" Clark asked as she joined our group.
"We seem to be under attack from mice and rats, and that slave boy of yours. Very impressive, but if you think that this will ruin me, you are mistaken. This is only a small part of my wealth."
I gave him my best 'so what?' look. I used a touch of power to urge him on.
"I have many castles like this -- and gold, boy -- more gold than you could ever dream about. I have holdings in Tunistra, Glengarion..." He counted off a long list on his fingers.
"Is that all?" I asked him.
"Is that all? You would never be able to strike all of my holdings. I will survive this, but..." He stared at me as I shook my head.
"Sorry about your luck Clyde, but you'll find that all of them are gone, too."
"That's impossible. No one could have done that, no matter how much power he or she might have," he claimed.
I shrugged and pointed at the castle as the last of the people and rodents left it. The building fell in on itself and tumbled into so much dust. "Told you I would break you, but would you listen? All that gold of yours is going to buy back the freedom of all those people you've enslaved over the years and to compensate them for the time they've lost from their lives. The families of those that didn't make it will also get compensated. What's left over I'm going to send to Clark here and pay off my friend, Tim, who's making all the arrangements."
I glared at him, then managed a smile. "I'm sure in a few years you can start rebuilding your empire, but I'll be there to take it all away from you again. Next time, don't mess with people that have real power."
The man shriveled as the enormity of what I had done sunk in. He turned ashen gray, but I wasn't buying it for a second. When he jumped at me, I was ready.
"Don't touch me. I'm not responsible for what happens."
Lord Kalandros made another grab for me, I dodged out of the way but his right hand connected with my chest for a second and he screamed, pulling his arm back. He hadn't made enough contact to get the full dose as Creel had, but his right hand and arm did turn into a donkey's foreleg and hoof.
He looked at his new limb, then at me and I saw his thoughts wheeling behind his eyes. "Unicorn. Grab him," he ordered, but his men weren't paying attention.
"Only a real jackass would touch a unicorn like that, and you're going to carry that as a reminder the rest of your miserable life. I'm out of here."
In front of the entire population of the city, I changed back to my self, and let my horn glow in the sunlight. A second later, I stood under my waterfall and let myself breathe.
"Kimberly?" Mom called out as I walked in the back door.
"No, it's me," I answered back, and I saw the disappointment on her face as she entered the kitchen. "Told you I was staying like this."
"I'm sorry, Brian, really sorry." She put her arms around me and hugged. "I love you, no matter who you are or what you are. I'm glad you're home."
"So am I. I had a great time, Mom. I overthrew this dictator, stole like a billion dollars in gold and gave it all away, and almost got sold into slavery. That other world is really a fun place to visit."
She looked at me, then sighed. "Okay, don't tell me what you did. Hungry?" She made me a couple of sandwiches. I sat down to eat and she brought over a cup of tea to sit with me.
"Brian, I know got way too pushy with you as a girl, and I want to apologize. I was so intent on getting you to be more feminine I ignored everything else, especially what I was doing to you and what those boys were doing."
I washed down the mouthful of peanut butter with milk and nodded. "Thanks, Mom. I know. The weirdest part of this whole thing is that it doesn't matter that much to me if I'm a boy or girl. I mean before this happened I cared a lot, but now I'm always going to be a female on the inside and that doesn't matter to a unicorn except in mating season. I can accept that, but if I turned back into Kimberly, would you still make me dress up every day?"
Mom opened her mouth -- and then closed it. "I know you can make me tell you the truth but I will anyway. I would. I can't help it. Kimberly is far too pretty a girl to be a tomboy. You have a face and now a figure that demands to be dressed up. I promise I will never ask another boy to take you out, you can count on that, but if you turn back to Kimberly I would expect you in skirts and blouses."
I shook my head. "I'll think about it, but I don't like them."
"Fair enough," she said, and this time I thought she meant it.
Two days later, I ran in from patrolling my area to find a young man, in his late teens, waiting for me in the living room. I took one look at him, and thought about slipping off and turning into Kimberly right then and there.
"Good day, my dear," he said quietly. He stood up and bowed.
"And to you," I said, shocked to see another unicorn -- in human form, no less. I had never met the colt, but I was delighted to do so now. "Have you taken a human name?"
"No, and I do not intend to," he said, letting me sense his particular scent and thought patterns that served as his unicorn name. I returned the favor.
"The High Council has sent me to bring you to answer the complaint against you."
"What complaint?" I asked.
"I don't know the details, but you need to come with me."
"Okay." I left a note for Mom. When I was ready, we both changed shapes to travel to the other world. I followed the colt to a huge, open air auditorium. Various people, unicorns and humans waited for us.
"Please take your human form," the elder human told me.
"You are the boy known as Brian of Trent?"
"Yes, sir," I said looking around the place. "What's going on?"
"You have been charged with irresponsible and illegal use of power, by Lord Kalandros. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty," I said as two guards ushered Kalandros in between them
"My safety is guaranteed from this creature?" he demanded of the elder.
"Before the High Council, it is. For the record, please state the nature of your complain against this child to the council so that the child will also understand what is being charged. Brian of Trent, you will remain quiet and not contradict anything that is said at this point. You will have a chance to answer later."
"This child was brought to me as a slave, and by law had no rights to use his powers against me or the rest of my property. I demand the return of my property -- all of it. But, in lieu of that, I will accept his horn as payment. In the last few weeks, I have feared for my life from all the former slaves that are hunting me. My worthless nephew has all but taken control of my estates and I have nothing."
The elder looked at me. "He's lying, your honor. I wasn't a slave when I came to him. I have witnesses that will tell you that..." In a flash of white light, Clark appeared beside me. "I told him that if he tried to make me a slave I would break him and I'm a unicorn of my word. Clark here is Lord Kalandros' -- niece," I said deciding to tell the truth no matter what. "Sorry girlfriend, but was I a slave when you brought me to that city?"
"She is a female," the unicorn beside the elder confirmed.
"Why the disguise?" the elder asked.
"I've been dressing as a boy my entire life, sir, because my uncle demanded it. The King's Laws are strict on what a female can and can't inherit, and he wanted to make sure his entire fortune stayed in the family.
"Brian came with us to see Lord Kalandros as an equal and not a slave. I protested as hard as I could about the way my uncle treated him."
"What say you now?" the elder asked Lord Kalandros.
"The truth now," the unicorn added.
"Whether or not he was a slave when I found him doesn't matter. I made him a slave and I stand by my complaint."
I stared at Lord Kalandros for a moment, then gave him a wide grin. "Are you, then, an authorized slave catcher?"
"No, of course not. I am Lord Kalandros, boy, and not some menial..."
The elder said, "The King's Laws are strict on that point. You had no right or authority to make the boy a slave."
"Well, Creel, the slave catcher caught him."
"Did not. He was much too busy turning into a donkey to catch me properly. I warned him about that too, like your hoof there, but people never seem to listen to me."
The elder sighed. "The boy told you that he would break you if you made him a slave illegally -- and he did. I see no grounds for your complaint, Kalandros. Dismissed."
Lord Kalandros started to protest, then shut his mouth. He glared at me for a second, but left the auditorium with his head hanging.
Clark grabbed me into a long hug. "Come back with me, Brian, the entire world is ready to honor you for what you did."
I looked around for the colt that had brought me there. He stood waiting for me at the back of the enclosure. I changed to Kimberly, hoping I looked pretty enough and that he liked my dress. "Some other time. I -- uh -- have some business I need to take care of here. I'll check up on you in a week or so. Good luck, Clark!"
The colt walked up to me, and took my hand.
"Come on, tall, brilliant and handsome," I grabbed his arm and hugged it. "You have just got to meet my mother."
End of Part Two
"These powers of yours are asking me to be a baby sitter?"
"Heaven forbid. He has an older sister for that. He will be wanting a companion, like, a pal, if you get my meaning."
"Thirteen year old girls, in the eighth grade do not pal around with eleven year old boys."
Tim laughed. "Even I know that, lass, you being in the eighth grade and all, but the Powers had something different in mind. They were wanting you to go as a boy again..."
Scene 1.
As the last bell on a Friday afternoon rang, I hurried for the door, no longer bothered by the scent of vanilla and lavender that I wore, or the sensation of Mom's favorite skirt swirling around my legs. I didn't have a favorite skirt, yet, since my mother had taken over the job of being my fashion director.
Outside, the June days grew long, and hot straining the school’s air conditioning again, but this time, the town had a mayor that did things about outdated school buildings and honesty in office.
"Hey, Kim!" "Kimberly, hi!" I heard many people shout as I rushed by. Waving, I sighed as I thought I could never have been this popular if I had stayed on as Brian.
Once home, without too many distractions on the way, I ignored the squirrels and assorted other creatures asking for my attention. I raced inside, left my books on the kitchen counter, and took my math book upstairs to my room. I tossed the book in the general direction of my computer desk.
"Watch it, there, my good beast," a small voice said from the desk. "Top of the morning to you, as well."
"The rest of the day to yourself, wee Timothy," I answered leaving the leprechaun sputtering. "If you need a ride over to see your pal John, I'm sorry, but I'm way too busy."
"Busy, are you? Well, as a matter of fact, so is he. Our John is tied up with his own concerns, affairs of the heart, you might say."
I laughed. "He's got a girlfriend? It's about time."
"Spoken like a true female of the species," he said with a sigh.
"I look like a boy to you?"
"No, not at all. But why then, would a young lass of your charms, worry her pretty little head over mathematics, let alone chuck books at unsuspecting people?"
"Unsuspecting people as small as yourself should let unsuspecting unicorns know that you are there before you do get a book chucked at you, and if I don't know math how could I ever tell if you were cheating me with all that gold?" I asked and walked over to the desk to pick up the book
"Me? Cheating you, is it? You think I'm a thief?"
I laughed as I sat down. "Now there's a loaded question. If I say 'yes', you'll spend the next year letting me know how much I hurt your feelings. If I say 'no' I'll have to triple the security on the gold so you won't think you can pull a fast one on me."
The leprechaun sighed, and shook his head. "You do know me all too well, lass, I'll give you that. But now then, my girl, it's your lovely self that I'm needing today."
"Lord Kalandros?"
"It's nothing like that, and that one passed a few months back, unloved and un-mourned to the end. I have been asked to ask you on a mission by the Powers themselves," Tim said and waved his arms grandly.
"There are powers and powers, Tim. What do you mean?"
"Not what, but who. You, my lass, as a Guardian of the Worlds, do have the Unicorn's share of powers, in a manner of speaking, but on my world The Powers are the controlling forces. Much like the old gods on this one. No, they are not the creators, but everyone pays respect to them," he laughed for a moment. "Well, treats them much like they do leprechauns on this world, if you get my meaning. But the Powers are real, and they wish you to do them a favor, if you will."
I shrugged. "If there is fame, fortune and a handsome unicorn at the end I am so there, just like the last time."
"I can't say as there will be any of that, now, but there is a young lad that is in desperate need of a friend, shall we say, to be with him through the troubles that will face him in the weeks ahead."
"You know I don't date outside my own species, Tim."
"I'm not asking you to date him, girl, he's only but eleven, for pities sake."
"Eleven," I demanded. "These powers of yours are asking me to be a baby sitter?"
"Heaven forbid. He has an older sister for that. He will be wanting a companion, like, a pal, if you get my meaning."
"Thirteen year old girls, in the eighth grade do not pal around with eleven year old boys."
Tim laughed. "Even I know that, lass, you being in the eighth grade and all, but the Powers had something different in mind. They were wanting you to go as a boy again, after all, Brian of Trent is famous in that world."
I paced the room, and remembered to smooth my skirt before I sat down on the bed. "You don't know what you're asking me to do. I'm a girl, now. I made a promise to my mother and everything. It's been over a year since I became a unicorn, and it's taken almost that long for me to -- get in touch with my feminine side. I kind of like wearing this stuff now. I'm popular with everyone in school, and I have a boy friend. I don't know if I can go back to being a boy."
"Like riding a bicycle it is, you never forget. Go on, laddy, get into some proper clothes because we have to go."
"Thirteen year old boys don't hang around with eleven year-olds, either," I said trying to protest, although I was already changing into the old me.
"Then go as an eleven year old."
"I'm thirteen, I.... What the heck," I grumbled and made myself younger.
"Well now, very nice, I think. What are you supposed to be?"
I looked in the mirror, and laughed. "So, I'm pretty for a boy. At least I'm not the little geek I was the last time I was eleven. We'd better get out of here before Mom sees this."
Scene 2.
The Powers asked a little of me. I never actually saw them, but I heard them and felt their presence through my entire body. I had no choice but to believe Tim's story. I agreed to meet the boy in question, Toby by name, in the bakery shop of a small village. As good as any spot, I thought, making sure I had a lot of ready cash with me.
The scent of baking bread lead me straight to the bakery. Once again, I felt impressed by the builders of this village, it was gorgeous, with wide streets, flowers everywhere, and even a fountain or two. Not many people showed themselves, but it was early, several horse drawn carriages did roll past, although each team stopped to pay respects to me.
The drivers didn’t notice me, just yelled at the horses for stopping. I shook my head, and walked into the bakery. I had almost expected row after row of donuts and cakes like the shops back home, but this one had nothing but bread. The baker, an elderly man, wearing mostly a large apron, worked between two huge ovens, the heat from the fires left me sweating in seconds.
The man looked up, stared at me, and hesitated before he spoke. “Well, what can I do for you —— child?”
“I don’t care how much, and I want all the bread in the shop.”
He smiled, a warm, wide expression. “What are you supposed to be?”
“Hungry. Starving. I’ve never smelled bread that good in my whole life.”
Shaking his head, he tried again. “I meant, are you supposed to be a girl or a boy.”
“That’s up for discussion.”
“What do you mean? You have to be one or the other.”
My turn to shake my head. “I’m a boy, that used to be a girl, that used to be a boy, and I will be a girl again, or my mother will just kill me. After that, it gets complicated.”
He held up both hands, “Please, lad, don’t make that more complicated than it already is. This batch of bread is for the Lord’s wife, but after that I can sell you some. One copper penny per loaf.”
“I could eat a dozen right now, but I can wait. Could I….” We both turned as the door opened. A boy, about my size entered. This one glanced everywhere, like a wild animal. He checked out the street behind him a couple of times before taking another step inside. Closing the door, he held up one hand with three fingers up.
“Be done in a few minutes, Toby, my lad. Where’s that beautiful mother of yours today?”
“Gone,” he said, as he put three copper coins on the counter. “Cassandra wants these.”
“And half a loaf for yourself?”
Toby nodded so hard his body shook.
For the first time I realized that Toby broadcasted on a wide spectrum. I picked up the emotional content first, then the pictures and words he was sending to the man. I found a lot of parental feelings here, on both sides, but no blood relation.
“Now, Toby, do you know this lad?”
With a shake of his head, Toby glanced at me, and looked away.
“I’m Brian,” I said, and sent back to him. I held out my hand, but all he did was frown.
“What did you say?” Toby asked me.
“I’m Brian, I….”
“You can talk,” Toby screamed in my mind, as he threw his arms around my chest and hugged. “No one in this village can talk, except those weird human grunts.”
I laughed. “I’ve never heard it put just that way.”
“What?” the baker asked me. “Well, our Toby seems to like you.”
“I can talk to him,” I said with a shrug.
Toby looked at the man and nodded.
“No,” the man said. “That boy’s a wild thing, living out there in the forest as he does. He can barely say three words when it comes to that.”
Both Toby and I laughed at that. “It’s so sad he doesn’t understand real speech,” Toby commented. “He’s really a nice man, and he likes my whole family. No one else does around here.”
I held up a finger. “You know, sir, if you listen really hard you might just pick his speach up. He would love to talk to you.” I gave the baker a slight nudge with my horn, and had Toby turn to face him. “Okay, Toby. Say something, and not too fast, okay?”
Again, Toby broadcast to the man, and this time I saw the expression on the man’s face change to wonder.
“I heard that, I really heard that. You can talk?”
An odd feeling grabbed me by the throat. I left Toby and the baker talking, and walked outside to find my best colt-friend. He was dressed as a teenaged, human boy, but with a face that made me shiver and sigh. He frowned as he took a good look at me.
“I don’t suppose this is a chance meeting?” I asked, sweetly as I walked with him away from the bakery.
“No, it isn’t. Why are you here?”
“I came at the invitation of the Powers.”
He snorted. “Ah, the Powers, is it? And I suppose these powers also made you appear as a human male? It is most unbecoming for you.”
“Yes, you big jerk. The powers wanted me to be a boy to help watch a child that is important to them.”
“Ah, I see. The Powers.”
I laughed. “Yes, the Powers. You don’t believe me?” I asked, letting the hurt sound in my voice.
“The elders asked me to ask you if you intend to meddle, once again, in the affairs of humans. Powers or not, that is something you tend to do.”
“One time, and they will never let me live it down,” I said. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know. Where you go, trouble is bound to follow close behind you.”
I looked up at him, and gave him my best grin. “Oh, you’re calling yourself, Trouble, now?”
“No, I….” He said, and caught on. “Point taken, my dear. No, I don’t believe your story about the Powers, either.” He stiffened, and closed his eyes for a moment. An odd expression crossed his face, then he looked down at me. “Sorry, I owe you an apology. The Powers did tell me that your story is true. And…. They asked me to keep my tail out of this.”
“You have a very cute tail, as a matter of fact,” I said. “But I think I can handle the kid myself, but if you want to stay with me, he could use a strong, male role model.”
The now named Trouble gave me his pinched lip grimace, “I think I will leave the child rearing in your lovely, and capable hands, and no matter what happens, the Elders will know it is the fault of the Powers that asked you to do this.” With that, he vanished.
I walked back to the bakery to find the baker removing a dozen loaves of bread from am oven with a huge, wooden board. Toby gave me a puzzled glance. “I met a friend outside, for a moment.” I explained.
“I have no friends here, except for Mr. Bederick,” he thought indicating the baker.
I nodded, and watched as Mr. Bederick sliced a small loaf in half, gave each half a generous dollop of butter from a crock under the counter and handed them over to us.
Never had I had a more intense experience with bread. From the first bite, of the light, and flakey crust, through the delicate middle, I felt that my life was complete. “I’m sending a hundred loaves home to my mother to keep for me,” I said.
“Baker,” a rather large woman said from the doorway. “Is Lady Everly’s order ready, yet?”
“Only just, good wife. I have all the loaves cooling now.”
“I don’t have time to wait. Wrap them up now, and….” she paused as she looked down at us. “Oh, I see your letting animals into this shop? I’m not sure if she will want those loaves if you let that creature near them.”
“Then tell her ladyship that I will have the order ready late this afternoon, after the boys have left,” Mr. Bederick said quietly. “That child is as the Powers have made him.”
Toby bowed his head at the mention of the Powers. I did the same.
“Witch’s brat,” the lady growled out. “Should have been put to death at birth. I will take the order now, and let them cool at the Manor House.”
“I’m sorry you had to hear that, lads,” the baker said as the lady stormed out of the shop, loaves in her basket.
A few minutes later, a tall man, wearing a badge of sorts, entered the shop and looked down at Toby, then at me, then back to Toby.
“So, it’s true. The brat’s here by himself.” He placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Get out of here, Gustav,” Mr. Bederick said half flying over the counter. “No one is going to threaten this or any other child in my shop. His mother is away so you feel brave enough to fight a little boy?”
“I will have his head. I will stake it outside the forest by his Mother’s cabin. Let that show her what we do to witches around here.”
“Bad! Man bad,” Toby said. He lowered his head and rammed it into the man’s chest.
“He stabbed me. You saw that, he stabbed me,” Gustav yelled.
“Where would that boy hide a dagger?” Mr. Bedrick commented, apparently ignoring the spreading blood stains on the man’s shirt.
With a flourish, Gustav drew the sword from the sheath, and held it out. “I’m going to….” he started as Toby broke into peals of laughter. I couldn’t help myself, and laughed, too.
Gustav stared at the empty hilt. “My sword. What happened to my sword?”
“I would think it to be the Powers,” Mr. Bedrick said. “They do not want you to harm Toby more than I would, or do you think one of the lads here could have stolen it from under your nose?”
“Witch’s magic,” the man spat, then turned and hurried out the open doorway,
I brushed aside Toby’s curly black locks, to find a handsome pair of white horns. On second thought, antlers, I thought. They reminded me of a fawn’s growth. “You’re a faun?”
Toby nodded. “Part faun,” he said, out loud, but sent a torrent of pictures to me of his life in the forest.”
Outside the warm confines of the shop, I felt a crowd gather. “We’re going to have trouble,” I said. “Maybe we had better leave now.”
“Bread,” Toby said, simply.
“I will take care of the rest of it,” Mr. Bederick said, quietly.
When Toby’s loaves were ready, the baker tied three with a rope, and lead both of out of the shop. People did shy away from Toby as we walked down the street.
I said, in a voice designed to carry to everyone. “Mr. Bederick? I know I’m new in town, but why does everyone hate Toby so much?”
“He’s the witch’s brat,” several people shouted back.
“Then why does everyone hate his mother?”
“She’s a witch,” people told me, as if I was dense.
“I know that, but what has she done to make you all hate her?”
“Melody moved into a cottage inside the Forest about fifteen years ago,” Mr. Bederick told me. “She sells potions and trinkets, that sort of thing. She’s never done anything to anyone here.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked looking around at everyone. Toby just shook his head.” “You mean she doesn’t open the heavens and call down lighning and tornados on this village once a week?”
“Not once,” Mr. Bederick replied, playing along.
“What sort of witch is she? What about bringing up savage demons from the pits to run around tearing people up? No, maybe a plague of locusts or frogs?”
“You can get frog beads at her shop,” someone pointed out. “Very nice they are, my wife loves them.”
“Beads?” I demanded. “She runs a bead shop? Ooooh, scary.”
“Think what you like, boy, but you never can tell with witches.”
“I don’t know about that, sir. I mean, you should know where you stand with a witch. If you stay around a wicked witch it’s a sure bet that you will wind up a frog, or worse. If you stay with one of those good witches, you’ll wind up all sweetness and light. So what kind of witch is this Melody?
Not getting an answer, I said, “Okay, let’s find out, then. How many people here have been turned into lizards?” I waited. “No one was turned into a newt? That doesn’t look good. Okay, who had their little dog, threatened?” I cackled and added, “And that goes for your little dog, too? Anyone? Say, what about those potions she sells? Do they work?”
“Of course they work,” several people added.
I shook my head. “So, you do have a real, card carrying, bubble riding, good witch there. I’d register a complaint with the Witch’s Counsel, all of you are missing out on the real, witching experience, here.”
“You never can tell with witches,” another man, stated.
“Maybe not, but what about mothers” I asked back. “Since Toby is Melody’s only son, do you think if you hurt him, she might get a bit mad? That guy, Mr. Gustov said he wanted to cut Toby’s head off and stake it outside her home. That might show her that you hate kids, but do you think she’d let it go? Oh, well, it was all an accident, no harm done?”
Several people shook their heads.
“I know what my mom would do if someone hurt me. I’d think Toby’s mom might just show you that witching experience after all.”
“The boy is lying,” Gustov called out. “Melody wouldn’t dare do anything to the entire village.”
I looked right at him, and shook my head. “You never can tell with witches.”
Someone threw a stone at Toby’s head. He spun around, caught the stone and threw it back with a delighted, “Catch!” The stone hit the man right on the chest knocking the wind out of him.
“Did you see that?” several people shouted.
“Great catch, Toby!” I said. “What a throw. You’ve got a career in the major leagues with am arm like that.”
Another man drew back his arm, but a bolt of lightning sizzled through the air and struck his boot. He jumped a few times trying to put out the fire, A dozen more lightning bolts struck the ground inches from people’s toes. Everyone leapt backwards.
“Witchcraft!” several people shouted.
As several dozen more bolts hit the ground, the crowd scattered. The people that remained seemed more determined to do something.
“Look!” I shouted, and pointed to a huge black cloud forming at one end of the village. Funnel clouds touched down and grew into twin tornados. The twisters moved forward as arms and legs took shape in the clouds.
“Demons,” a dozen people yelled. The twisters resolved into towering figures, that appeared to be an inky black insult to the sunny day. They lumbered at the villagers.
That did it. “Man,” I said. “Why did everyone run away?”
“I think we should be going, too,” Mr. Bederick said, quietly, looking back at the demons.
“They won’t hurt us,” I commented.
“Is that what you wanted, Unicorn?” one of the creatures asked in his own language.
“Exactly. You guys were wonderful. Thanks!” I thought back to them.
The demons faded out as Mr. Bedrick took Toby by the hand and started hurrying down the street. “I’m taking you home,” he said.
Toby nodded, and clutched his loaves tighter.
For two kids and an old man, it took hardly any time to half walk, half trot to the edge of town. The road lead through several flat pastures before the ground gave way to the line of trees that marked the edge of what appeared to be a great forest.
Toby pulled Mr. Bedrick by the hand towards the woods.
We walked for a while. I turned at the sound of horses behind us. I saw four riders galloping hard after us. “You get Toby home, sir. I’ll take care of this.”
“Brian, I can’t let you….”
“Those demons were friends of mine,” I said with a quick wink.
“You think I can’t call them back? They weren’t even demons. The only real demon in this part of the world is a friend of mine, call him Charlie for short. He’s exactly what you’d expect from a demon, too. He’d slip a knife in your back as he shakes your hand.”
He frowned for a moment, as if trying to think of something, then nodded as he let Toby hurry him down the road.
I turned to face the riders, with my arms crossed over my chest. The horses ran within five yards of my position, then stopped, without warning. Two of the riders flew forward over the animals’ necks, and hit the ground with a splat. The others held on, barely. The two horses with riders, threw them off, then all four walked around their riders to stand before me, and bow. I let them up and each nuzzled me, in turn. “Wait for me over there,” I said, and the horses complied.
The men picked themselves up and dusted off. All but Mr. Gustov, who sat waiting for someone to help him. Once on his feet, he glared at me.
“What happened?” he demanded and walked toward me.
I held up a hand as a large, wooden sign appeared next to me. All four men took their time to read: ‘Beware of Unicorn’.
“So, boy, you claim to be a unicorn?” Mr. Gustov demanded.
A second later, I reared up on my hind legs, taller than the men now as a unicorn, and let my horn speak for me.
“Any questions?” I asked as I turned back to human. “The boy, Toby and the baker are under my protection, is that clear?”
“A thousand gold to the man that brings me that horn,” Gustov shouted out.
The three men shuffled their feet for a moment, but didn’t make a move.
“Did you ever hear of a man named Creel?” I asked them.
“Oh, right,” said one. “He was that slaver that was turned into a donkey….”
“I was the last being to see him as human. It wasn’t something I’d wish on anyone else. He does look a lot better now, but do you really want to spend the rest of your life pulling that man’s plow?” I asked and pointed at Gustov.
“He’s lying,” Gustov shouted. “Nothing will happen to you while I’m with you.”
I stared at him. “They call me and my kind of unicorns, the Guardians of the Worlds. You think you can fight me? What, with that sword of yours?”
The empty hilt of the man’s sword flew from his sheathe, hovered in front of his nose for a moment while the blade grew back, then promptly smacked him on the backside.
“I’m the richest man in this Duchy,” he said and glared at me. “You don’t frighten me, not at all. Grab him, men, and I will take the horn.”
“You want a piece of me?” I asked, with a laugh.
Three men backed away from me, slowly. “You want that horn,” one of them said, “You take it.”
I dropped my arms and sighed. “You just won’t learn, will you? Go ahead, try and take my horn, but when you’re a donkey and all of your wealth has reverted back to the Duke, you can’t say you weren’t warned.”
“But we’re his only family, we are,” one of the men protested. “We should inherit like all his money and property.”
“Better leave that to the courts, guys, but you will get one good donkey out of the deal.”
With a scream of frustration, Gustov bent over, and charged right at me. I stepped out of the way, but he grabbed me with one arm, and picked me up. He clamped the other arm around me in a bear hug, before he screamed once.
I dropped to my feet as the man stared at his hands, melting quickly into hooves. “What did you do to me?”
“Only a jackass would touch a unicorn like that, mister. I can’t believe you were that stupid. Okay, maybe I can, but you asked for it.”
“Turn me back,” he whimpered.
“What part of ‘You’re going to turn into a donkey for the rest of your life’, didn’t you understand? I put up that sign, showed you what I was, and still you got greedy. Too bad, so sad.”
“But,” he trailed off as his mouth stretched into a donkey’s muzzle.
“You’re friends were smart enough to leave me alone. They are getting five thousand gold, each, and one donkey, from your estate. The rest is up to the Duke. Run along, Snowflake, you have a lot of hauling to do yet. I get the horses, okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, I jumped up grabbed a saddle, and directed the horses after Toby and Mr. Bedrick.
Scene 3.
Toby turned around and waved when he realized it was me riding one horse and leading the others.
“Get on up,” I said, and waited for the other two to mount. “Gustov won’t be needed these animals anymore, and I thought we could ride.”
“It would take a miracle from the Powers themselves to make Gustov give up one horse, let alone four.”
“He’s not very bright. How in the world did he ever get to be so rich?”
“He married the Duke’s only daughter, not for long, mind you, but he’s the only heir to the Dukedom.”
“Not anymore,” I commented. “It’s complicated.”
Mr. Bedrick gave me a wide smile, and nodded his head for a moment before helping Toby up.
We rode to the edge of the forest. I jumped down from the saddle, and asked the horses to follow me into to the line of trees that marked the forest proper. Toby stayed on the horse, enjoying the ride, but a look of guilt crossed his face as a taller boy, stepped out in front of us.
“Deelan,” Toby said, more to the boy than as an introduction.
The boy — faun, I thought, or rather fawn, was just that. From the waist down Deelan stood a deer, with a russet velvet coat, long legs, and split hooves. A pair of respectable antlers grew from his head. With no clothes, or any sense of modesty, he stared at us.
“Where have you been?” the faun demanded in the picture, telepathic speak that Toby used.
“To the village to get the bread. This is Brian, who saved my life a couple of times and Bedrich the baker.”
“Thank you for the life of my brother,” the boy told me in halting speech.
I answered him in the same picture language that he used with Toby. He gave me a wide grin, which reminded me of my fox back home -- probably for the same reason, too.
“Your sister,” Deelan told Toby, “is yelling and screaming at Father about something at the house. Do you know what it is?”
Toby shook his head, as we walked and lead the horses through the woods. “Cassie was home when I went to get the bread.”
The word ‘cottage’ didn’t come close to describing the house, that looked like it was built into the living trees in a small clearing maybe two hundred yards from the forest’s edge. White, with green shutters, the house welcomed us inside. I loved the place from the first second I entered. Not grand by any means, but the place felt more like home than even my own.
A large crow squawked from the back of a kitchen chair.
“From Mom?” Toby asked
“Yes,” the crow answered. “The wizard in the tower is sending Melody to the Moon. You and your sister have to go quick.”
“Excuse me,” I said, with more than a hint of impatience in my voice. “Would you like to repeat that message properly, this time?”
The crow looked at me, out of one eye and then the other. “I work for Melody, not you.”
I laughed at the wicked glint in the bird’s eye. “What a cheeky bird,” I said with another laugh. “I don’t believe you said that to me.”
“You aren’t the boss of me. I take messages for Melody.”
“That’s a great attitude, for a crow, you know that?” I asked the bird. “It would be a real shame for me to have to turn you into a beetle. There you are, crawling on the ground for the rest of your life, but….”
I looked around the room and a large, glass jar appeared on the kitchen table. “I’ll keep you in here. I’ll have lots of twigs and leaves for you to eat, and aphids and things, and twice a day we can play — Earthquake,” I said and shook the jar with my right hand. “Won’t that be fun? Since you can’t take messages for Melody any more, who will be the boss of you?”
“You will,” the crow said, struggling to move his wings.
“I will at that. Now, which would you prefer — being a beetle for me, or having me tell Melody you were lying to her kids?”
“Okay, okay, you big bully. The wizard in the tower…” He paused as I used his thoughts and memories to map out the location of the tower. Even with the horses it was about a week’s journey to the North.
The crow cleared its throat. “The wizard is taking Melody on a trip to see the honey moon. There, I said it. Can I go now?”
“A honey moon?” Deelan asked. “The moon is made of cheese, not honey, everyone knows that.”
“It’s not that at all,” I said letting the crow fly off. “So, how long has your Mom known this wizard?”
“I don’t know,” Toby said with a shrug. “I didn’t think she knew any wizards.”
“A whirlwind engagement, then,” I said and the baker took in a deep breath. I nodded to him. “It’s really romantic.”
Toby made a face, and turned to face the door as a teenaged girl stormed into the house.
“We have to leave now,” she said to Toby. “And who are all these people?”
“That’s Deelan, my brother,” Toby said with a straight face.
“I know that, and a lot of help his father was. Mother is in terrible danger and would he offer any help at all?”
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Brian and this is Mr. Bedrich the baker. We had to get Toby out of the village and fast this afternoon and we brought him home. So, your Mom is getting married. That’s great. Looks like we are all going to the reception.”
“What do you know about this?” Cassie said, glaring at me.
“Your Mom sent a messenger crow with the news. He was just here. They want us to go to the reception before they go on their honeymoon.”
Mr. Bedrich nodded. “He’s right, my dear. The crow said as much.”
“That crow told me the wizard was going to sacrifice my mother to the Moon. Who are you going to believe? Me? I have almost as much power as mother does, or this boy?”
“Brian,” Deelan said. “You have power, he knows how to talk to crows.”
“Brian made that crow tell the truth,” Toby added in thoughts.
“Well, you can tell your friends thank you, but we have a long journey ahead of us.”
“Brian and I will ride with you, of course,” Mr. Bedrich said. “I am not about to let the pair of you go off alone to find this wizard.”
“I go, too,” Deelan added.
“Whether or not your little friend is right about the crow’s message, we will need protection, very strong protection against the wizard when we get there, and on the way,” Cassie announced. “We don’t need two little boys on this trip. Deelan, you will stay with Toby, but you, Brian, are going to be a wolf.” She pointed at me, and sang a word of power.
I shook my head. “Sorry, girlfriend, but I don’t do dogs.”
She tried again, as both Toby and Mr. Bedrich protested. This time, I just laughed. “You don’t have the kind of power it would take to touch me, Cassie. Besides, there’s a really great horn in the way. Let’s just let it go at that.”
“You don’t understand,” Cassie said. “I need something that is powerful enough to protect us on the journey, and save Mother from that wizard.”
“If she needs saving?” I asked her.
“I could never see mother marring some old man with a beard down to his toes.”
“Suppose he isn’t an old man. Wizards don’t need to look like that any more than witch’s have to look like green skinned crones. Malicious stereotypes if you ask me.”
“No one asked you,” Cassie said. “Toby, since your little friend refused, it’s going to be you, now. What we need is something more powerful than anything in the world, so I am going to make you a seeger.” She put up a wall almost a force field effect around Toby
“No,” Deelan said, pounding both fists on the wall of power.
“Dictionary, please,” I asked the house. A large book opened in front of me to the appropriate page. “Seeger, the speaker for the Powers,” I read. “Seegers are defined as elemental forces, chosen by the Powers, to speak for and if necessary, use the Powers own magic on the Powers’ behalf. Seegers take the shape of large cats, two or three times the size of a housecat, with wings. They are considered to be the most powerful creatures in the world, with the possible exception of the Guardians of the Worlds. See Unicorn.” I looked up from the book at Cassie.
“You don’t do cats,” she snarled at me. “But Toby does.”
“The Powers select the Seeger, not you,” I told her. I walked through her wall of power. “Are you going along with this?”
Toby shrugged. I heard a different voice answer, though.
“This is as it should be. Do not fight it. We have been waiting for Toby.”
The world spun around for a moment. A second later Toby grabbed my hand as we found ourselves in a huge, empty room. I started walking toward a brighter patch of light. A man, a tall man, wearing furs and a huge rack of antlers on his head, appeared in front of us.
“Welcome, you are most welcome here, children. I am called the Hunter, and you, Toby are the one who would join us? You have no speech, yet you would speak for us?”
“I don’t know,” Toby said with a frown. “I’m a faun, not a cat.”
“A seeger may speak for us in any shape it pleases, but your sister has requested that you be a cat. If you wish to take on the powers and responsibilities that come with being a seeger, you will take on the form of a winged cat, as all the others have, but you will also have this one.” The man nodded, and Toby changed from a mostly human boy to a full faun.
Toby glanced down at himself, and rubbed his hand on his new coat. “This is me. This is who I really am. I don’t care about power or anything else if I can be a faun like this.”
“Granted,” The Hunter said.
“What about Brian? Is he going to be a cat, too?”
“No,” the man said with a wide smile. “But he is your first project, Toby. It is important that Brian here gets to your Mother’s wedding safely. They are counting on it. You will make sure that happens, will you not?”
“Yes, no matter what my sister says,” Toby said with a deep bow to the Hunter.”
Back in Toby’s home, we stood within the wall of power. Toby bent over and changed in one, fluid movement into a cat. Black as soot, with sparkling green eyes, the faun did make a beautiful animal. He spread his wings, for a moment, then folded them back along his spine.
“What did you do?” Deelan yelled. “Toby cat!”
“Yes, he is,” Cassie said taking down the wall, and examining her brother. She glanced at me. The expression on her face was priceless, half anger and half confusion.
“You have power,” Cassie said to me. “Who are you?”
“It’s complicated,” I said with a shrug.
“Change Toby now,” Deelan said.
“I can,” Toby said and stood up again, as a faun. “The Hunter did this for me.”
Cassie screamed out her anger. “No, you’re a seeger. You have to stay that way.”
“Why?” Toby asked as Deelan hugged him. “I can speak for the Powers like this.”
“No one will know what you are, and they will attack us.”
“They will find out what I am if they attack us,” Toby told her. “I’ll be a cat if I have to, but only then.”
“He’s right,” Mr. Bedrick added, walking over to Toby.
Cassie’s finger’s flicked as she cast a small spell at her brother. If Toby felt it, he didn’t say anything, so I did.
“That wasn’t called for, girlfriend, casting spells like that at your brother. If you want him to protect us, you might as well be nice to him.”
Toby looked at me and shook his head. “A minor control spell,” he said. ‘Nothing to worry about, but thanks.”
I removed it, just to be on the safe side.
“The horses are packed, and I made sure that we have everything we will need, clothes, lots of food, blankets and bedding. Everything,” Toby announced.
“Good work,’ Mr Bedrich said quietly. “I think we have a long way to go, yet.”
“I know the way,” I added.
Scene 4.
We camped for the night on the other edge of the Forest. I helped the baker start a fire and get tents up while Toby and Deelan organized dinner. Cassie gave everyone orders, which she seemed good at.
“There are a group of humans heading this way,” Toby said quietly as the fire died down. “They want the horses.”
“Kill them,” Cassie told Toby.
“All life is sacred to the Powers,” Toby said. “Even theirs.”
“We could use another horse,” I suggested, “so you wouldn’t have to double up with Deelan.”
Toby shook his head, closed his eyes, and smiled. “That’s taken care of. They won’t bother anyone anymore. I turned them all into squirrels.”
“Just what the world needs, more tree rats,” I said with a sigh.
“But now they can steal as much as they like and not hurt anyone” Toby said, feeling proud of himself.
I patted him on the back and nodded. “Good work.”
Breaking camp, early the next morning, we left the safety of the forest, for the open plains. Steppes, I thought, that would lead to the north, north by northwest as I guided the horses on. A couple of minutes later, we stopped at the sound of a crying child approaching us.
A boy, fully human and looking about thirteen, half carried, half dragged his little sister toward the forest. “Hush,” he told her, over and over.
“I’m hungry,” the girl, who looked to be about three insisted.
“I’ll get you something to eat as soon as we find Da.”
“What’s going on,” Cassie demanded.
The boy looked up at us, startled.
“I asked you what you are doing to that little girl.”
“I’m sorry, miss. Our mum died last year, our da hasn’t been home for weeks, and we don’t have anything to eat. I need to find him to get money so we can live, and I can’t just leave her alone now can I?”
“You don’t have the right to bully your sister like that. I swear, all of you boys are just alike. I should make the two of you switch bodies so you can see what it’s like.”
“Now that would really help them out,” I said and jumped down from my horse.
“Toby, do it. Switch those two to teach him a lesson.”
“Me?” Toby asked. “The Powers say no. Let Brian do this.”
“What’s your name?” I asked the boy as I handed the girl a muffin. She stopped bawling while she ate.
“Eric,” he answered, and held out his hand for a muffin himself. Instead, I gave him a fist sized leather bag filled with gold coins.
“Get yourselves a real breakfast, Eric, and stock up for the next couple of years, okay?”
“But….” The boy visibly shook as he looked inside the bag.
“You’re a smart kid, Eric. Tell everyone your dad got you some money, no need to tell them or even hint at how much, right? Spend just enough to get by.”
He dropped to one knee, “Thank you, Lord.”
I laughed. “Not me. Here,” I said and gave him another bag filled with food this time. “This will keep both of you from starving on the trip back to town.”
“Thank you,” the little girl said and held up her arms.
I picked the child up and hugged her. “There, do you feel better now?” She nodded. “Eric’s going to take you home now, cause it’s much too dangerous for you two to wander in the forest all by yourselves. There’s lions and tigers and bears, oh my, in there, and seegers and unicorns and fauns, too. Here,” I said and handed the girl to her brother.
“Come on, Lil, we can go get a real breakfast at the Golden Griffin, now.”
I turned back to the others, to find Cassie in a glaring contest with her brother. I jumped back up into the saddle.
“We can go on, now,” I said.
“Not until this stupid cat learns some manners,” Cassie said. “How dare you disobey me? I made you a seeger, and you have to do what I say?”
“The Powers made me a seeger, and I speak for them. That’s what seegers do.”
“I don’t care, you listen to me, and listen good. You will do what I say, or I will make you a cat, just a plain old house cat, this time, and I will never turn you back,” Cassie snarled out.
“Okay, but remember this. I don’t do cats, either.”
Cassie turned her glare on me. “You were certainly generous with our supplies, weren’t you?”
“I didn’t touch our supplies, if you have to know, and those kids were starving. They needed the food a lot more than we did. Shall we go?”
“Toby, turn this impudent boy into a rat, now.”
“He doesn’t do rats,” Toby said. “The Powers said it’s important for him to get the Mom’s wedding.”
We rode most of the day, through a rolling countryside of green meadows and small villages. Bypassing the towns, we made good time, until about dusk. We made camp in a small, wooded glen overlooking still another meadow. I spent some time with the horses that night, grooming them the old fashioned way.
Crawling into the boys’ tent, I found Toby and Deelan zonked and down for the count. I stretched out on my bed roll, then frowned as I felt a summons, not very strong, but insistent. Outside, I followed the feeling to the other side of the glen and looked out across the ground to see two unicorns, standing side by side, waiting for me.
These were not Guardians, but members of a herd, somewhere.
“Join us, daughter,” the male said, in my thoughts. The female added the same sentiment. “We are so few, now.”
“I know, but the Guardians are fewer still,” I answered with a sigh. “I am needed here.”
The unicorns stiffened as Mr. Bedrich made his way through the woods. I lowered my defenses, and the others relaxed.
“Brian? Are you….” He placed his hand on my shoulder. I saw the look of sheer awe and wonder register on his face as he saw the unicorns. “By all the Powers, do they know we are here?”
“Of course, they do. It’s okay, you’re with me.”
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.” The unicorns started walking in our direction. “I thought they would have vanished into the mist before anyone came this close.”
“Normally,” I said. “Every unicorn has it’s own set of defenses. You know what happens if you touch a unicorn?”
“I’ve heard.”
“At the approach of a human, if one unicorn lowers its defenses, that signals the rest of the heard that it’s safe.”
“That might be the case, lad, but how do they know it’s safe from us?”
I gave him my best grin. “I’m the one that lowered my defenses to let them know you were safe. I thought you might do that,” I said nodding to his hand with my head. “I didn’t want you hurt if you did.”
He withdrew his hand, as if burned. “You’re a unicorn?”
“A Guardian of the Worlds,” I said with a nod.
“You’re Brian of Trent? The one that broke Lord Kalandros?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “He asked for it.”
“I lost my wife and children in one of Creel’s raids, they didn’t survive. It was the gold from your Unicorn fund that paid for my shop.”
“Not much of a repayment for that,” I said, slowly.
“It was enough, although now I’m not sure if I can go back to my shop.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m taking you home with me. With your baking, we could be very rich, in a week. No one can make bread like you do, at home.”
“That is a thought, but wouldn’t I stand out what with all of your unicorn friends?”
“I was born a human, a human boy. I feel more comfortable as a human, than a full time unicorn.”
He pulled me into a big hug. “Whoever you are, whatever you are, I can thank you for what you did for the world, and me.” He let go as the unicorns joined us.
I changed shapes, and nuzzled with the unicorn female for a moment.
“You are needed with us, as well,” she told me.
“Someday, I might just choose this,” I told her, “But not now, mother.” I felt someone else. My defenses went up as the others vanished. I took my human form, long before Cassie joined us.
“What’s going on?”
“We were watching the unicorns,” I said. “They must have startled when they heard you, because they just vanished into the mist.”
“Oh, really,” she said. “You need to get to bed, young man.”
Scene 5.
About noon the next day, I spotted the first hint of smoke ahead of us. We quickened the pace for the horses, and found a large village, smoldering from a recent fire. Bodies lay strewn along the roads.
“Raiders,” Toby said.
“Let’s see what we can do,” I said.
“No,” Cassie said. “We do not have time for this. We can ride around the outskirts of the village.”
“But the Powers,” Toby started to say.
“The Powers aren’t here, and you do what I say, remember that.”
‘Toby does what Powers say,” Deelan cut in. “Not you.”
“It’s okay. I will see what I can do for the people here, and meet you on the road later,” I said.
“Toby and I go with you,” Deelan announced. “We need to help.”
“You stay with me,” Toby said, with a real frown on his face. “They can catch up later, if we let them.”
I saw the faun looking torn. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and pushed him towards Toby. “He’s your brother and he will need all the help he can get from his sister. Stay with him”
Deelan nodded, gave me a slight smile, and walked nudged his horse over to Toby’s.
Mr. Bedrich and I dismounted, while I checked each of the bodies for any sign of life. Although most of them were dead, I was able to bring a few people back.
The majority of the villagers huddled together in the town hall. From their faces I could have sworn it was the aftershock of a bomb blast or something. They all had that far away, shocked look of disbelief. There were some happy reunions as the recently wounded found their families, but no one else paid the slightest attention to us.
“Who is in charge?” I asked. “My friend and I would like to help out, but we need help with the dead.”
“The elders were killed when they burned the village,” a young man, in his twenties told me. “The boy’s right. We need to get out there and check the damage.”
“My friend, Bedrich, and I have brought food, and supplies, too.”
A few people stood up at that, but the rest kept their places.
Outside, I pointed at two buildings that hadn’t been there when I went inside.
“You will find most of what you need, for the moment, stored there. I’m Brian,” I said and held out a hand.
“Oh, sorry. I’m Will,” the man said. “We had no warning,” he said quietly. “They rode into town with torches, shooting arrows and swinging swords. So many people were cut down. They must have taken everything that wasn’t nailed down, and it looks like they burned the rest.”
“Not all of it,” I said. “Here.” I placed a large pouch in his hand. “You can do a lot of rebuilding with this, and….” I had a bad feeling as I saw a large crow launch itself from a rooftop. “You,” I shouted and pointed at the bird. “Front and center.”
The bird fought me for five minutes. I didn’t want the creature hurt, but I had lost my patience. I used enough power to drag the bird from the sky. It landed at my feet. I bent over, picked it up by the neck, and shook it.
“You want me?” the crow demanded.
Not bothering with niceties, I read the crow, turned it into a beetle, and kicked it under a rock. “The raiders are camped about two miles from here, waiting on word back from that crow as to when help arrived.”
“I should have thought about that, myself,” Will said. “I won’t ask you about that crow, but what can we do?”
“Do what you have to, with our blessing,” I heard the voice in my thoughts.
“I will take care of it,” I said with a shrug. Will,” I said and met the man’s gaze. “There are two rules of magic that you, and your village will need to remember and live by.”
He frowned and shrugged his shoulders.
“Rule one: don’t touch the unicorn. Rule two: don’t get greedy. After that it goes downhill.”
Before he had a chance to answer, I jumped into the air as a hawk, and circled my way to the raiders’ camp.
Whoa, I thought, as I took a quick count. Several hundred men stood around the campgrounds. The sheer volume of horses and cattle spread around the camp was breathtaking. Flying higher, I spotted several small bands of horses, heading out presumably on raiding missions.
Looking further, I found another, larger band of raiders dashing toward the outskirts of a large village. The villagers ran for cover. I sent my thoughts out to the horses, and each of them stopped, then turned as if scared to death. Panicked, the horses ran back in the direction of the camp.
Now what, I thought as I called the rest of the horses home. I’ve got three hundred and some raiders, and I had to do something with them. I didn’t want to wind up their judge, jury and what have you, but I didn’t see anyone else being able to do this. For a moment, I wondered if the powers had intended this for Toby, after all, they were parked their right on our way north. I sighed, it was the kid’s decision to stay out of this, but I had a feeling the Powers were not pleased with him.
I circled the campground again, and focused on the man I took to be the leader. He certainly acted it, from what I could see. I read him, and pulled back. I felt I needed a shower or something to wash the filth of his mind off me.
After a moment, I found out where the raiders hid their loot. With a thought, I transferred all of it to my storehouse that used to be one of Lord Kalandros’ castles. I wondered what Tim would say when he saw all of that.
After a while, the last of the raiding parties rode in, well, they were dragged in by their horses, and there hadn’t been a single death today. With my horn, I surrounded the campground with a wall of power, and commanded all within the wall to freeze in place. I watched as the men struggled to move. I landed, changed back into myself, and walked between the men towards the leader. The men couldn’t talk, but their thoughts were still going on at rocket speed.
The campsite reeked of the stench of hundreds of unwashed men, animals, and the open latrine toward the back of the grounds. I managed to keep from passing out, but just barely.
I felt something small land on my shoulder. “Wondered if you would make an appearance, Timothy.”
“Merciful Powers preserve us. What have you gotten yourself into? What is all this?”
“They all belong to him,” I said walking up to the leader. “This person calls himself ‘Black Johnnie’,” I said. “He’s the leader of this rag tag gang of vermin.”
“I know who is he is -- by reputation only. Do you realize this is probably the most wanted man in the history of the world?”
“Really? Hi, I’m Brian Trent, unicorn at large, and this is my pal, Timothy. “I know I didn’t bother with the niceties, and all, but I thought you and your vermin were much to dangerous for that,” I told him and froze about half a dozen men trying to sneak up behind me. “I cleared out that warehouse you had in Glengarion, what was that? Twenty — thirty years of loot? Tim, did you see all that stuff?”
“Aye, that I did, laddy. Which brought me here.”
“How much gold did we get from Lord Kalandros in Glengarion?”
“I couldn’t answer that.”
“Oh, right, because I’m a ditzy female that doesn’t need to know math?”
“Still harping on that, are you? I suppose one of these centuries you might think to forgive an old leprechaun that spoke out of turn, but what’s done is done, as they say. I don’t know how much of all that gold came from Glengarion, nor do I wish to. What are you doing with this one, anyway?”
“Nothing much,” I said with a shrug, and walked around the man. “Doesn’t look like much, when you get right down to it. I really think this whole set up was meant for Toby, but he turned it down, so I’m the one that had to do it.”
“Do what?” Timothy asked.
“Put an end to Black Johnnie and all his men once and for all. I mean who else could do it? It would take a Duke or even the king to raise the kind of army that would be needed to catch these creeps, and I don’t see that happening, since most of the nobles are way too quick to take bribes from him.
“So,” I said with another shrug. “It’s up to me.”
“The price on his head is staggering,” Tim said. “Even more than for old Lightning Jack a few years back.”
“What happened to him?”
“Well, Lightning Jack was another raider, until his own men turned him in for the reward. They hung him, and let him swing for weeks out in the square by the King’s own castle, they did. They said that Lightning Jack left behind a treasure that would stagger the imagination.”
“Did you?” I asked, looking right into Black Johnnie’s eyes. “You did, at that. More than what I already took? Well, it’s all gone now. We’re going to need a bigger place.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is Lightning Jack, and Bloody Pete, and several other names. He’s had quite a career with this. When the heat’s really on, he has his men turn him in for the reward money, and there are always enough people, even in the Royal Guards so he can bribe his way out. The people don’t know what he looks like, and they wouldn’t care, really, who was hanging out on display.”
“So, what happens to them now?” Tim asked me.
“Well, this one is going to spend the rest of his life, and a short one it will be, as a housefly. He can live off other people’s waste for a few months, then die. The Powers, I am sure will welcome him to the afterlife, personally. What was that?” I asked, and looked at the raider. With a thought, I let him speak.
“You,” he sputtered. “You can’t do that. I’m a human being, I am.”
“No you aren’t,” I said. “You gave that up years ago when you decided to prey on others of your own kind. I mean, you raid these little villages filled with people that have almost nothing, and you take it, kill and burn while you’re at it, and come back in a few years to do it again. Not anymore. You’re men are going to spend their lives as farm animals, they will be divvied up among the towns that you raided, recently, to help rebuild.
“No one will know how you died, but your name will probably pass into a legend as a nightmare for kids. ‘Better be good, or Black Johnnie will get you.”
“You have no right to do this,” Johnnie yelled at me. “If you stop this….”
“What? You don’t have anything left to bribe me with, and if you did, I would just take it like all the rest.
“And, as for rights, I have every right, since the Powers themselves have asked it of me. What right did you have to take all those lives over the years? So, stop whining. I could grab you after you change, pull your wings right off and toss you in that trench back there. You’d still have plenty of food even if you couldn’t fly.”
Black Johnnie turned green at the thought. I think it finally sank in as to how he would be spending his time as a housefly.
“You can’t,” he said, weakly.
“Too late, I already have.”
Black Johnnie curled in on himself, shrinking, and screaming as his extra legs grew in. A minute later, he was in the air flying right for me. I caught him, shook him up, and said, “Help me, help me!” until I let him go. He flew right at my eyes. I grabbed him again, and said, “I know you can hear me in there, you do this again, and I will tear off your wings.”
The fly spun around for a moment, then headed for the trench.
“Any questions?” I asked the rest of the men. “None?”
“Can I be a fox?”
“Yes,” I told the man in the back. “You are.”
After that, I had twenty others that chose to be wild life, badgers, weasles and such, no skunks or rabbits, and the rest I divided into cattle, lots of chickens, horses and mules. Tim called in his friends, to drive the animals to their new homes.
Twenty minutes later, I rode a horse leading a procession of animals, most were loaded up with bags containing the property that had been removed from the village the day before.
The people from the town hall were all out, now, working together. I could smell food and lots of it either baking or roasting, and I realized how hungry I was. Everyone stopped and stared at me, and I heard several shouts and people recognized their animals.
Will met me, and shook his head. “What happened?”
“I found the raiders camp and I felt I had to something to stop this, so I did. I brought back everything that I could find that belongs here, including these animals, and I thought the extra animals might be put to good use. Uh — those are dairy cows, you know, for milk and butter? They aren’t for eating, if you follow me.”
“You mean you turned all those….”
I held a finger to my lips, and nudged the horse along the road. “You may not want to let people know that, but you can safely say that Black Johnnie is now a housefly. I think he’s better off like that. My friends will be around in a few days. We’re splitting up all their stuff between the towns that have been raided. I think that’s probably everyone, but you will get a sizable share.”
Will took the reins, and lead the horse for me. “I don’t know how we could ever thank you for this, Brian. Brian of Trent is it?”
“That’s me.” I said.
“Well, to whatever Power sent you to us, I will always be grateful.”
Will stood aside as I jumped down from the saddle. I gave the horse a good petting, and sent him off to join the others.
A long table had been placed by the town’s fountain. Loaded with food of all sorts, I walked over as everyone at the table stood up and cheered.
Will gathered the rest of the villagers, and stood up on one of the benches. “Everyone. Today, I think we should all thank the Powers, and this young man, for giving back to us what was taken. The lives that were lost yesterday can never be returned, but for those of us left, we can honor their passing, and their lives, by moving on and rebuilding. We now have the means to do just that.”
I tuned out the rest of Will’s speech as I stuffed my face. This had to be the one thing I missed most as a girl, being able to eat anything and everything I wanted without having to watch my “figure”. I swear I was ready to toss the next salad my Mom served me right on the floor for real food, but I was still mostly a vegetarian.
“What’s going on here?” a loud voice demanded behind me.
I think everyone looked over to see Cassie and Toby standing by the fountain.
“You are most welcome here,” Will said. “We are having a celebration for young Brian, there and his friend Bedrich.”
“You honor them, but what about me?”
“Brian has helped to restore this village from the raiders, and has given us the means to restore our lives. What part did you play in this?”
“She didn’t want to help, so she took her brother and rode off to sulk. Where’s Deelan?” I asked her.
“He was being too much of a pest, so Toby sent him home.”
Toby hung his head, but nodded.
“You didn’t. Not your own brother.” I saw where Toby had sent Deelan, to a large wooded area as a full deer. I sent him a thought, turned him back, and sent him home. “He’s okay now,”
“The Powers aren’t happy,” Toby said as he sat down next to me. “I was supposed to do something for them, but they said you took care of it. Thanks.”
Seething, Cassie sat down across from me, and glared. “We’ve wasted half a day, you know.”
“You agreed you would ride on, and let us catch up to you. You were the one wasting time coming back, but since it is a party for me, have some fun for a change.”
About an hour later, Toby and Cassie had filled themselves as well. She started talking about leaving, and I had to agree.
Five men, all dressed to the nines, approached my table and stopped two paces behind me. “I am Basil, lord Basil,” one said. “My friends and I are represent the top five families in this village, and we didn’t get nearly enough to rebuild our properties.”
I shrugged. “Take that up with Will, gentlemen, he’s the one in charge.”
Will, himself appeared a second later. “You have questions?”
“You gave us next to nothing to rebuild our homes,” Basil said.
“Yes, that’s true, but your homes weren’t touched in the raid. I understand that a tree on your property was burned, so I gave you enough to replace it. You, Serge, and you, Rupert, nothing at all happened to your property, so why do you expect money to rebuild?”
“I, for one,” said Basil, “want to rebuild my estate from the ground up. This time, I want a house at least three times the size of the current one, as befitting my station.”
“That would take most of the money we have,” Will protested.
“Then we’ll get it from the boy.”
“Sorry, mister, but that would break every rule in the Do-Gooder’s Handbook. This village gets what it needs to rebuild, but no one is going to get rich, or richer from it. In other words, you’re forgetting rule number two — Don’t get greedy.”
“This village is mine. I have the final say, by the King’s law, and I say that our houses are rebuilt before anyone else’s.”
“You’re just begging to be a housefly, aren’t you?”
Toby stood up. “I speak for the Powers,” he announced. His shape shimmered into the seeger form. He spread his wings, as Cassie said.
“Don’t you dare get involved in this.”
“The Powers say,” Toby insisted. He stared at Basil, then the others. A man’s voice spoke through Toby’s mouth.
“Basil, after the service that young Brian performed for this village today, and the rest of the world, we, The Powers have decided that you are no longer fit to be human. We are directing our seeger, Toby, to plant you on your estate as a tree for the next few years. When you are truly ready to apologize to Brian for your actions we will let you return to your human life. We have spoken.”
The man tried to speak, but it was too late, Toby closed his eyes. Basil’s entire body turned wooden as he vanished from the village.
“Thank you, seeger Toby,” Will said quietly.
Scene 6.
The next afternoon we found a small village, untouched by the raiders. A few people were about, most seemed to be off working. Cassie lead the group to the town center, and waved her arms at the people, mostly children, that were there. “Hear me, I am Cassandra, the most powerful witch in the world.”
The smallest kids ran for home calling for their mothers. The older kids just laughed.
“Well then, Miss Witch,” one of the men called out. “What would you have us do?”
“Have a celebration in my honor,” Cassie said. “A grand feast it will be, too.”
“This is but a poor village, miss. Where are we to get the food for your celebration?”
“We have it,” I said poking Toby in the ribs. “We can put a spread just like yesterday.” I saw his eyes glaze over at the thought and he nodded his head.
“No,” Cassie insisted. “The town is supposed to do that.”
“Look, Cassie, I don’t think your getting this whole idea, yet. Why would the town wish to throw a party for you when they have nothing to throw it with? If you want a party, we throw it for the town?”
“They will do this, or I will have Toby burn the village to the ground and turn everyone in it to mice.”
“Well, that’s a good reason to party, isn’t it.” I jumped down from the horse and walked over to stand beside Cassie. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but the people around here don’t like witches much. You may not want to give them any more reason. I know, you never can tell with witches, but we may want to leave before they start throwing rocks.”
“Brian’s right, Cass,” Toby added. “They throw rocks at me just because our mother is a witch, and she never said anything about burning a village down.”
“I don’t care, it’s my turn to be honored, not Brian this time.”
“But Cassandra, my dear,” Mr. Bedrich said quietly. “Brian actually did something for the entire village, he didn’t ride into town and demand a party. There is big difference there.”
I saw the way the square filled with people, and I called out. “All part of the act, folks. Come, see our play about two brave youths and their kindly, old, father, against the very wicked witch.” I bowed, but no one bought it.”
“Do we have that celebration, or not?” Cassie asked.
“I think you lot had better leave town, now, before someone decides the world’s most powerful witch should burn at the stake,” one of the village women told her.
“Toby, I command you to burn this village to the ground, and turn all these people into mice.”
“Don’t you dare,” I said as I felt power gathering around the seeger. “You started this with all of your talk of witches. They have every right to throw us out, and I say we go before they do.” I jumped on my horse, and gave the command to the other horses to hightail it for the wide open plains.
Two miles out of town, I stopped the horses, and gave Cassie a long glance. “Look, girlfriend, I understand that you grew up in that cottage in the woods, and that you haven’t had that much contact with people, but that still gives you no excuse for that. You are really lacking in social skills, you know, so next time leave the talking to me or Mr. Bedrich.”
Cassie seethed. “Toby, turn this insolent puppy into a puppy. See how he likes it.”
“I don’t do dogs,” I said.
“Toby, I’m going to count to three, and you had better do what I say.”
“There are powers and then there are powers,” I said. “Neither one of you has the power to touch me. Let it go at that. We have a day and half left to get to the wizard’s tower, shall we get going?”
As we rode, Mr. Bedrich took a position next to Cassie, and it looked like they were having a real heart to heart. I hoped that would work, because she was really getting to be an issue.
Toby rode next to me, and shook his head. “Brian, you had better be careful. I didn’t have to turn you into a puppy, this time, but the next I might not have any choice.”
“You really would have burned down that village and turned everyone into mice?”
He shrugged, and nodded his head. “Cassie wanted it, and yes, I would have.”
“Don’t you care about the people involved?”
“No, why should I?” he asked me right back. “Humans have always hated me for being a witch’s brat and a faun. Why shouldn’t I hate them?”
“Because you speak for the Powers now. With the Power you have, you have to care about this world and the people in it — all of the people, humans, too.”
“Tbe Powers say that you are right. You are always right. I don’t care. Do not cross Cassie again.”
We rode up to the outskirts of a large town. There were hundreds of people on the road, most entering the city, some leaving. Riders made room for walkers and those riding animal drawn carts and carriages.
“You,” Cassie said, and pointed to a boy about Toby’s age. The kid looked at her, and held out his hand. I dropped a coin in it. “Run ahead,” Cassie told him, “and let everyone know that I, Cassandra, the world’s most powerful witch, will be arriving shortly.”
“You,” he said and broke down laughing. “You’re the world’s most powerful witch? Then why aren’t you flying on a broomstick or riding a tornado?”
“I don’t want to make a scene.”
“Eric, Danny, Clarence,” he called ahead. “Take a look at what we’ve got here. This girl’s the most powerful witch in the world. Said so herself, she did.” The boy ran ahead to join his friends. All four looked back at Cassie and laughed some more. They turned, and darted through the town gates.
“That really wasn’t very bright, girlfriend,” I said.
“Brian is right, my dear,” Bedrich said, quietly. “I thought we had an agreement that you were not going to make an issue of your position in power.”
“If we go that way,” I said and pointed. “We will avoid the town completely.
“No,” Cassie said, determined to push on.
A dozen kids, ten boys with two girls, met us inside the gates, only to laugh at and tease Cassie all over again. There were grown ups watching, but none made any attempt to stop the kids.
All the way to the town square, the kids danced beside us, calling out, “Here she is, everyone, the most powerful witch in the world. Show us some magic, miss. Show us how powerful you are.”
“Lighten up, Cassie. Even you will have to admit that you brought this on yourself, and the kids are just doing what kids do best. You know that. You still are a kid, after all.”
“Be quiet, just shut your mouth and give me some peace,” she said although her cheeks were still burning red.
Even though the square was filled with people, the commotion the kids were making didn’t seem to register. A few people glanced our way, but most went about their business.
“Everyone! I am Cassandra the world’s most powerful witch. Listen to me.”
“Of course you are, my dear,” an elderly lady said from beside the fountain. “Would you like to buy some flowers or herbs for your potions?”
“Go on, miss, might help your cause,” said the first boy.
“Toby, turn all of these brats into statues of me. Someone will honor me for this.”
“Now, now, dear. Don’t get yourself all in a fuss. Have some tea, that will help your nerves.”
Ignoring the old woman’s words, Cassie said, “Toby, do it. I want these people to see what power I command.”
“That would kill them,” I said.
“So, what are you supposed to be, then?” several of the kids asked Toby.
“I speak for the Powers!” Toby shouted out. He changed into cat’s shape. With his wings spread, he glared out at the children.
I hopped down from the horse, and moved in front of the kids.
“Toby, these kids are under my protection now. You aren’t speaking for the powers, and you are not about to kill them.”
“Get out of the way, Brian, or you will join them. Oh, I know, you don’t do statues, either.”
“All life is precious to the Powers, you said so yourself.”
“I don’t care,” Toby said, and I felt power gather around him.
“I’m a Guardian of the Worlds, Toby. Don’t mess with the unicorn.”
Toby laughed. “You? You’re nothing but another stupid human. You have no powers, and I warned you.” A ball of flame flew from his eyes, and stopped halfway between us. The flame danced for a moment on the breeze, and died out.
“You guys get back,” I said. “The kitty cat there is getting out of line.”
“Toby, get on with it,” Cassie yelled.
Toby summoned power, real power this time. With a thought, I released it. Adults were hurrying the kids away from the square now. Some stayed behind me, though.
“Toby, I’m your friend, and I always will be, but this fight has to stop before someone is hurt. Go ahead, ask the Powers what you should do?”
Instead, he threw spell after spell at me. I blocked each of them, and sighed. “You were given this chance to speak for the Powers,” I said. “But you aren’t. You can’t speak for your sister, when everything she asks is wrong. Drop this now.”
The seeger reached into himself and drew power, more power than I had ever felt before. That much power, if released, would go off like an atomic explosion.
A spark from the tip of my horn opened a minor vortex in the air over Toby’s head. I could see the swirling lights of stars in infinite blackness of space through the hole.
I directed the power from Toby into the vortex, where it exploded into a bright new star. The flame from the star burned itself out in seconds.
Another spark from my horn sent more beams of power down my body as I took my real shape again. A tear rolled down my cheek as I pointed my horn down at the cat. Toby tried backing away, but I wouldn’t let him move.
“You were given a great power, but you weren’t ready for it. Go back, Toby. Go back to the kid you used to be. You will always be a seeger, able to speak for the Powers, but you will have no more power, yourself.”
The cat vanished, and I covered Toby in a robe.
“No!” Cassie screamed at me.
“You are no longer a witch of any sort, Cassandra. You will never have power again. You lost that right when you commanded your brother to kill.”
“When my mother gets through with you, you will be sorry,” Cassie said.
“So be it. Let’s go talk to her, now.” I opened a gate to the wizard’s tower and sent the others through. I changed back to human boy, turned to the people of the village, and said. “Sorry for all the fuss.” I walked through the gate and closed it.
Scene 7.
I could not believe the village I walked into. Barely controlled chaos, I thought, compared to the orderly and neat villages I was used to. Houses seemed thrown around built wherever they could squeeze one in, although I did see one house pull itself up on little feet and walk over to a sunnier spot. This was crazy, and I wanted to live there.
Fairy folk filled the village, from the smallest sprites to full grown centaurs. As I walked further, a crowd of pixies surrounded me, laughing their heads off. All were naked and about the size of elementary school kids. I gave off several sparks of power from my horn, before they got the message and backed off.
A second after that, Toby grabbed me from behind, and hugged for all he was worth. I turned, and hugged him back.
“I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Brian. You saved my life back there.”
“That’s what unicorns do,” I said. “Where’s your Mom?”
“I haven’t seen her yet, but I’m sure Cassie’s found her by now.” He looked down for a second, then back at me. With a perfectly straight face, he said, “You are really beautiful when you’re angry.”
I shuddered trying to keep from laughing, but the giggles won out. “Thanks, I think.”
We walked down a winding path to what looked like a tall, brown stone Tower off to one side. Everything along the way, including most of the people were dressed up for what I gathered was a wedding party.
“Brian?” A man’s voice said from behind me.
“John?” I said, and turned around to face someone I never expected to see. “What are you doing here?”
The wizard grinned at me, “Getting married. I thought Timothy told you.”
I must have turned a dark shade of red. “You’re the one marrying Melody? I know he said you had a girlfriend, but…. Congratulations! That’s great. This is your new stepson, Toby, the seeger.
“Go on, he’s going to be your new step dad,” I said and pushed Toby forward.
Toby gave the wizard a quick hug. “Hello.”
“You’re a lot bigger than I thought,” John said and returned the hug.
“Brian,” Mr Bedrich called out from my right. “Trouble and it’s coming fast.”
“John, this is Mr. Bedrich, the baker. We have got to get him a shop here, he is a true wizard when it comes to bread making.’
“I’ve heard, but….”
“Long story,” Mr. Bedrich said.
A tall lady, with raven black hair stormed up the pathway. Power seethed around her, and for a second, I felt worried. Now this was a witch.
“My mother.” Toby said.
“Wow, she is the most gorgeous lady I’ve ever seen. Way to go, John.”
“Hello, my dear,” John said, and stepped forward to greet his bride.
“I take it this child is the one called Brian?”
“Yes, he is and Brian is a very good friend of mine, from my country. In fact, Brian is the very special guest I’ve been telling you about.”
“Do you realize that this child has ruined your daughter’s life?”
“I would trust Brian with my life,” John said, quietly. “I’m sure there is a good explanation….”
“I can explain,” I started to say.
“I’ll deal with you later, young man,” she snapped.
I felt deflated. “Yes, ma’am.”
For a second, John looked relieved. “Melody, Brian is….”
“A meddling little fool for all I am concerned.” I felt more power gather round her.
Toby stepped in front of me. “Mom, it’s my fault. All of this is my fault. I’m sorry.”
I stepped around Toby to stand in front. “No, it isn’t. None of this is Toby’s fault, ma’am. I stared at Toby for a second and he nodded. We said in unison, “It’s Cassie’s fault.”
Toby side stepped around me, again. “I never should have listened to her.”
“I should have known you boys would stick together.”
“I resent that,” I said. “My name is Kimberly, actually,” I said and changed back into my female self. “I can’t be John’s best man, but if you need a maid of honor, I am so there.”
“You’re even prettier when you aren’t mad,” Toby whispered.
“You, boy — girl, whatever you are, you have a lot to answer for. You took my daughter’s powers from her.”
“She gave me no choice,” I said. “She ordered her brother to kill people with his powers.”
Toby nodded. “Brian tried to stop it, over and over again, but I listened to Cassie, not him. I’m sorry.”
“It’s a long story,” I said, stepping in front of Toby. “The Powers asked….”
“I’m telling it,” Toby insisted and stepped in front of me.”
“Okay, you tell it.”
He did just that, in pictures and words, I saw the last few days played back for Melody’s benefit.
“Just what were doing at the baker’s by yourself,” she demanded.
“Cassie gave me the money, and told me I had to,” Toby said and showed her the scene.
“The people of the village didn’t try to burn you or stone you to death?”
“They did, but Brian stopped it. He saved my life.” Toby showed her.
“What did you mean by saying I was a ‘card carrying, bubble riding, good witch’?”
John broke out laughing, and another voice as well. I looked down to see Timothy by my feet.
“I’m glad you find that so amusing,” Melody said, with ice in her voice.
“Brian was making a reference to a theatrical show,” John answered. I sent her a mental image of the good witch, and her bubble. “There, you see, he was just distracting the people of your village from their anger at Toby,” John added.
Picking up the story, Toby showed her the lightning bolts and demons and our flight from the village. He gave her a full account of how I made the crow tell the truth, and for the first time, Melody laughed.
“That crow hasn’t been the same, since.”
The story went on, until Toby showed Cassie commanding him to change Deelan into a real fawn.
“Cassandra!” Melody shouted out, in a voice designed to carry.
“I’ll get her,” I said, and with a snap of my fingers made the girl appear next to her mother.
Cassie startled, then glanced at her mother. “Oh, did you want me? Did you find that horrible creature that took my powers?”
“Yes, she did,” I said. “I want you to tell your mother the truth, Cassie, and there is a word for creatures like me. Why don’t you use it?” I changed back to boy. “It’s me.”
Cassie glanced at me, then back to Melody. “He’s a…. He’s a unicorn, Mother. A Guardian of the Worlds.”
“This I have to see,” Melody said.
“Okay,” Toby answered and caught his mother up on his adventures so far.
I felt completely awed by the sight of me as a unicorn, as seen through Toby’s eyes. There I was, surrounded by golden streams of power, lowering my head to point my horn.
Melody sighed, and looked away from her son. “Cassie, I won’t tell you how angry I am for what you have done. Nothing would compare to it. How could you do that to your own brother?”
“Brother? Mother, that animal may call itself your son, but I will never be its sister. I had a chance to use it to get all the power in the world, and I took it. I didn’t know that unicorns were more powerful than seegers. And you had better watch that horn, horse boy.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, and I will warn you, you don’t qualify to touch me. Go for the horn, and you will wind up a donkey, like so many others.”
“Cassie? What does he mean you don’t qualify to touch him?”
“Oh, mother, I’ve been seeing boys for a long time, now. I had to something than just sit around in the forest, watching your pet.”
Melody looked down at me, and shook her head. “It would seem that you know my daughter much better than I do.”
“I am a teenaged girl,” I said with a shrug. “I have a boyfriend, but it’s different for unicorns.”
“I may not be a ‘Good Witch’, as in your show, but I cannot tolerate my daughter’s behavior, either. You were absolutely right to take her powers, as you did, and I apologize for the way I treated you earlier, Guardian.”
“Now do you see why I was so anxious to have Brian, or Kimberly here for our Wedding?” John cut in.
“Yes, I do, and I, too, will be honored,” Melody said, simply.
“Brian,” John asked me, “When you can travel as you do between cities, and worlds, why did you decide to ride here from Melody’s home. You could have saved yourself a lot of time, and effort.”
I nodded. “Yes, but the Powers asked me to do it this way, as did our Timothy, and it took me long enough to figure out the real reason for it.”
“And that was?” Timothy asked.
“The Powers knew what was going to happen to Toby, and they were willing to give him a chance. It’s not often that they have a chance to make a new seeger, but they had me along to make sure that nothing went wrong. They didn’t want me to let on to Toby or Cassie that I was a unicorn, and they wanted to see how Toby would handle himself and the powers he had. At every step of the trip he was given an opportunity to prove himself, you know, like one of those choose your adventure books back home. If Toby knew how much Power I had, he would have behaved himself, and probably forced Cassie to, as well. Who else could have stopped him if he did go bad? So you see, the immovable force, that’s him, met the irresistible object, that’s me.”
“That was so cute,” Cassie said from right behind me.
“Brian, watch out,” Toby called out.
I stood there as Cassie raised up a huge rock, and brought it down on my head. The rock crumbled into dust long before it could have touched me. “Thanks, Toby. I knew she was there.”
At that point, Cassie must have lost her temper. In spite of Melody’s screams, Cassie reached out to grab me by the throat. She came within an inch of touching me, before I made her freeze in place. I ducked away from her.
“Why don’t you take her to her room, put her to bed, and maybe tattoo rule number one on the back of her right hand,” I told the witch.
“Rule number one?”
“‘Don’t touch unicorns’,” I said. “I’ve always wondered why people tend to ignore that when they’re around me.”
For the rest of the day, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t spend time with Toby. His mother kept interrupting. She chatted, and talked, and wouldn’t leave me alone. I was tempted to go home and wait for the wedding ceremony, but I thought Mom would not understand.
At one point, Melody asked me a weird question. No one else was around, and I was sorry for it.
“Brian, you’re a very attractive young man, what do you think of my daughter?”
I broke out laughing. “Me? Attractive? Attractive to what?”
“No seriously, you really are a handsome boy. Cassie’s noticed it. What do you think of her?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t noticed anything about her. She’s completely self-centered, selfish, and power hungry, and if she ever grows out of ‘Princess’ mode, she might be a nice person…. Uh, I really doubt that, but you should know her better than me.”
“No, I meant how she looks. You two would make a great couple.”
I laughed again. “I can see that. It would be so romantic, you know, there we are, probably at my house, me on one end of the couch and Cassie on the other. She’d wave at me, and I’d wave back, then she might try to get closer to me. I’d tell her not to, of course, but she doesn’t listen. She moves closer, and closer, and she puts her arms around me. She’s hoping for a kiss, I just know it, but with her arms around me like that, she’d turn into a donkey for the rest of her life. I’d think, that would put a damper on things.”
“That’s the most horrid thing I’ve ever heard. Surely you don’t feel that way?”
“It’s the truth. I’m a unicorn, if you aren’t sure about that ask John, but a unicorn is a type of horse with a bloody great horn sticking out if it’s forehead. I’m a female. I’m not interested in other females, especially human ones, and I would never date outside my species.”
“But you’re a boy now,” she protested.
“You saw me in my real shape, earlier. So did Toby. “I came here as a boy at the request of the Powers. They thought Toby would be more comfortable with another boy of his age, instead of an older girl. He has one of those already.”
“I see,” she said, and for the first time that afternoon, she turned her back on me and walked away.
I cut another gate, and stepped through it to stand underneath my favorite waterfall. I could never get enough of the scrubbing and cleansing I felt every time I stood there. Another unicorn joined me in the spray. He nuzzled my neck for a moment.
“I hope the Elders aren’t mad at me?” I asked him.
“Relieved, I’d say,” Trouble answered me. “You acted on behalf of the Powers as you said you would, and that is it. Well, the adventure is over for you, my dear. Would you care to join me at home?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I still have to be at John’s wedding, and then, who knows, I might.”
Scene 8
I joined John and Mr. Bedrich for dinner that evening. The weather was perfect, and someone had set up a dozen picnic tables outside the Tower. All the tables were decorated for the wedding. One taste of the bread, and I knew who baked it.
“I have a new shop here,” Mr. Bedrich told me. “Much bigger than the old one.”
“I know where I’ll be every morning, buying bread for my mother.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” John said. “She is invited to the wedding, if you would like to bring her back here tomorrow.”
“I’ll ask her.”
“Brian, what happened with you and Melody this afternoon? She was fuming about something.”
“And this is different from every other times she fumes?”
“You have a point, but she was really upset.”
I glanced around, and said, in a low voice, “She tried to set me up with Cassie. You know, what a lovely couple we’d make, and all of that. I didn’t tell her where to go, but I did let her know, it wouldn’t work. You know, she’s going to be trouble. I will do my best not to ruin your wedding for you.”
“I appreciate that,” he said. “You really think she would try something?”
“Look up the definition of witch sometime. John, you know me, I don’t want to say this, but -- she’s an airhead.”
John nodded, “You have that right, but I do love her.”
Shortly after the meal was finished, Melody brought three kids over to the table, and it was all I could do not to gag at the scent. She didn’t seem to notice, and neither did John but if nothing else I knew the smell of troll — a lot like rotting plants with a dead skunk thrown in for good measure. I could see the spell she cast on them, but why would she bring me trolls?
“Brian, good, I was able to catch you. I have three adorable kids here, who would live to see a real, live unicorn. Would you mind?”
I changed shapes, and moved away from the table. With a thought, I turned the kids into pixies for real this time. There was no way I could let three trolls loose in the village. Melody didn’t notice but the kids did. They patted themselves down, glanced at me, and ran in the opposite direction.
“Come back!” Melody screamed after them. “Come back.” She turned very pale.
“What’s the matter?” I asked her, and loaded her up with a truth telling spell.
“Those weren’t kids,” she said, with a frown. “They were trolls.”
“Trolls?” John and everyone else at the table demanded. “What were you thinking, bringing Trolls here. Now what do we do about it. They could kill people.”
“Why trolls?” I asked her.
“They were going to surround you, to pet you, and then turn back so I could….” She made her move, grabbed my horn with both hands, and broke it right off my forehead. With a shout, she held out the horn. “Now let’s see about those trolls.”
The horn started struggling in Melody’s hands. It jerked one way, and then another, trying to get free. She said a word of power, but it didn’t slow the horn down at all. She held on harder, until the horn pulled her off the ground. She dropped down as the horn shot up through the darkened sky trailing sparks of gold and white.
The horn exploded in the sky in huge clouds of multi-colored lights and sparks. Five, then six times the fireworks went off, until the last explosion resolved itself into words written across the sky for everyone to read.
“Congratulations John and Melody. Love, Kim.”
Everyone cheered, and applauded the show until the last of the sparks and words faded from view.
“You gave up your horn for that?” Melody asked, confused.
“Are you kidding? You think you could actually touch my horn and remain a human?” I asked her back. “I changed those trolls into real pixies, and they are off to join a troup. As for the horn, consider that a wedding present. You’re still you, and I still have my horn.” I showed her the real deal for a second, before I turned back into Brian.
“But how…. How did you know?”
“I know you’re Toby’s mom and everything, but you are about as subtle as one of those trolls. How many times have I told you I was a unicorn? One dozen, two dozen? You saw the size of my nose. If you had used even a little thought you would have known I could smell those trolls from the moment you brought them here.
“Normally, if someone brought Trolls to me disguised like that, I’d take it as a hostile action, but you wouldn’t be much of a witch if you didn’t try for my horn. I wouldn’t be much of a unicorn if I wasn’t ready for you. So, you’ve had your fun, no harm done, and I’ve had mine. If you try for the horn another time, you are in so much trouble.”
Melody pointed her right hand at me, and shouted out a word of power. I felt the power flowing from her, and it was strong, I had to admit that. She said another word, then cast a full blown spell at me. I yawned.
In spite of all the magic she threw at me, I sat down next to John. “I know you’re going to marry the witch, but if she keeps this up much longer I am going to get annoyed.”
“I could never tell you how sorry I am about this. She’s never behaved like this before. If I thought she would go this crazy at the thought gaining your power….”
“I’m going to have to do something, you know. This is getting out of hand.”
Toby put his hand on my shoulder. “The Powers say end this.”
I stood up, and patted Toby on the shoulder in return. “Okay, now that’s speaking for the Powers.” I turned to face Melody again. “Getting tired, are you?”
She looked it, her hair was hanging down in strands, and sweat covered her face. “I will find something that works against you, you miserable brat.”
I laughed. “You’re the one casting all those spells at me, and you’re calling me a brat? What if I threw them all back at you?”
“You can’t, those were my spells.”
“Okay, fair is fair, but the Powers want this ended. You have no more power, Melody, none. You are, for the rest of your life, a human woman, never again a witch.”
Melody spat out a word of power, anyway. This one was a doozy. I stood back as a dark cloud appeared in the air between us. A tall man, wearing gray robes and clothes of a noble stepped out of the cloud.
“Charlie!” I called out, delighted.
He took a moment to recognize me, and his face turned a little sour. “Kimberly, my love, so good to see you again.”
“Why, Charlie, you handsome devil you.”
“Now let’s not get personal, here. You called me?” he asked in disbelief.
“Not me, sorry. That was Melody, there — your ex-witch.”
“Ah, Melody, you look a little pale. Is there something I can do for you?”
She glanced between the two of us, and glared at me. “You know this demon?”
“Charlie? Sure, if you want us to go twenty rounds, it won’t happen. Been there, done that, you know, that sort of thing. Besides, it was just a matter of you not thinking things threw again. I’m a Guardian of this World, and I need to know what and who I’m guarding it from. Especially that horrendously, evil demon.”
“Why Kimberly, flattery will get you everywhere with me.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said with a laugh.
“Demon,” Melody said. “I summoned you with the last of my power. Help me. I want that unicorn’s horn,”
“What ever for? If I could give you your powers back, I would, but that would have been a more sensible request. It’s not true, you know, that ground unicorn horn has healing properties.”
“That horn is the most powerful magical item in the universe.”
Charlie laughed. “Only if it happens to be attached to a unicorn. It’s nothing more than bone without the unicorn to give it power.”
“He’s right,” I said.”
“You never told me that,” Melody half yelled at me.
“Would you have believed me if I did? Really, you would have thought I was protecting the horn by making up a story. Wouldn’t you?”
She nodded. “I would have. So now what?”
I called Cassie out of the crowd and when she had joined her mother, both of them fainted, gently to the ground.
“What did you do?” John asked as he ran over to kneel beside Melody.
“Take them inside, wrap them up snug and in the morning neither one will ever remember being a witch. You will have your family again, and I will have lost a real headache.”
“Until we meet again,” Charlie said, and vanished back into his cloud.
“John, I’m going home to get my mother, when is the ceremony?”
“Tomorrow, mid-day.”
“We will be here.” I said, and walked away from the village.
“Well, my girl, not a bad trip after all,” Tim said from my shoulder. “A fabulous treasure, and you gave John his life back from that blood sucking female. How she ever got her hooks into him I will never know.”
“You could have warned me,” I said.
“Not on your life. You had to see for yourself what sort of creature that was, and you did the right thing. I thank you for it, as do the Powers.”
“Well,” I said with a sigh. “There is one thing I learned from the villagers, and I will never doubt their wisdom again.”
“What was that?” he asked with a frown.
“You never can tell with witches.”
“Aye, lassie, remember that. The same holds true of almost anyone in this world.”
“Even me.” I said my good-byes to Timothy and headed home.
End of Part Three
The phone rang. For the first time since I had changed to unicorn, I couldn't tell who was on the other end. Worried, I ran in to Mom's bedroom, and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"I seek the one known as Brian of Trent," a deep, gravely voice said from the other end.
"And who should I say is calling?"
I heard another voice in the background. "I am his father," said the first voice.
I could see the speaker now, and I shuddered. The creature looked for all the world like a six foot flounder wearing a gray uniform. "You mean that Brian is half-human, and half alien fish?"
Someone laughed, and I knew the voice now. "No, I am his father. Tell Brian of Trent that I will meet him on the next rotation after the learning...." After a pause, the creature said, "The time period called tomorrow after school."
"Okay," I said and hung up the phone.
I was doing this for Mom, after all, not me, I told myself over and over. But still, I felt like I was advertising for boys.
The phone rang. For the first time since I had changed to unicorn, I couldn't tell who was on the other end. Worried, I ran in to Mom's bedroom, and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"I seek the one known as Brian of Trent," a deep, gravely voice said from the other end.
"And who should I say is calling?"
I heard another voice in the background. "I am his father," said the first voice.
I could see the speaker now, and I shuddered. The creature looked for all the world like a six foot flounder wearing a gray uniform. "You mean that Brian is half-human, and half alien fish?"
Someone laughed, and I knew the voice now. "No, I am his father. Tell Brian of Trent that I will meet him on the next rotation after the learning...." After a pause, the creature said, "The time period called tomorrow after school."
"Okay," I said and hung up the phone.
Two seconds later, I stood in an alleyway somewhere in Glengarion. I changed to my boy self, kind of gangly and awkward now that I was fourteen, but he had asked for Brian. I walked down the alley only to have a dozen rats get in the way."
"Where do you think you're going, little boy," one of them said to me.
"Guess what, guys, it's not your lucky day. I'm the exterminator, and if you don't get out of the way in five seconds, you will be earthworms."
Fifty more rats seethed into the street the support the first dozen. "Let's take the exterminator apart," the first rat said.
A flock of robins landed on the street in front of me. I snapped my fingers, and all of the rats turned into worms. The birds made quick work of them, but some did find hiding places.
"Thanks, guys," I told the birds.
"Any time, unicorn," the birds sang back and took off.
I walked back through the alley, then had to look up as I felt something evil, and disgusting coming in, fast. I saw a black speck dropping right at me. The speck grew larger, and I saw what it was. I put up all the shields I could.
The harpy let loose, with a bomb of excrement. I thew it back at her, until all of her feathers were covered with the filth. She fell the rest of the way.
I stood there, watching as the creature smoldered. "I had no quarrel with you, ancient one. Why the lovely greeting?"
"Those rats were my agents," the creature said.
"Well, you win some, lose some. Save a few rats, or fight with the unicorn. Not a good choice."
"I am an immortal, unicorn. You dare fight me?" she said, and tried to stand up.
"Do you want to spend the rest of eternity as an earthworm with your agents?"
She took off, awkwardly, but she managed to fly. I watched her until I knew she wouldn't try anything else.
I found the room with the fish, turned invisible, and walked inside.
Charlie, the demon, sat on a cot, tied up, and wrapped in chains. The flounder shook the telephone receiver.
"Why do I not hear her?"
Charlie sighed. "She has broken the transmission."
"Our fleet draws closer to this world, and I must present the being, known as Brian of Trent, to my lord and master.
"I tell you again, you do not want to do that. Brian of Trent is one of the more powerful creatures in this part of the galaxy. Do not give him reason to destroy your fleet. Tell your lord and master that it is too dangerous. You need to leave this galaxy, and now."
The fish started pacing. "Our fleet has spent thousands of generations traveling from our galaxy to this one. In all of that time, the only being greater than our fleet we have found is the Destroyer. He requires Brian of Trent, and we will deliver this creature to Him."
The fish stood taller than I did, by at least a foot. It had a flat head, with gray, tough skin, and eyes that moved from one side of the head to the other depending on the field of vision it needed. The body was covered with a gray suit, but it stood on three points. Two, elongated back fins, and a tail gave it balance.
It moved slowly across the room. "Do you think the female will tell Brian of Trent to be ready?"
I dropped the spell, and said, "Yes, she did. I am Brian of Trent." With a thought, I released Charlie from his bonds. "This is my demon, and if anyone is going to bind him, it will be me. So, Darth Flounder, you are my father?"
The fish pulled what might have been a weapon from a pocket in it's suit. "I am...." he said, and said a long sting of consonants with a few vowels. "You will come with me to see the lord and master of the fleet that is now approaching this world.
With a snap of my fingers, I made the object in his fin, or whatever, crumble into dust. "Let's see this fleet of yours."
A large screen appeared in the middle of the room. The picture turned on and searched the star fields until I did spot a large field of bright dots, moving. I focused in on the fleet. "Whoa, those ships are really cool, Gortex, for short...." Charlie laughed. "Why me?"
"The Destroyer wishes it so. We will present you to the Destroyer for some of it's vast energy, and then return to destroy this world, and your home world while we are at it. We will then move to capture this end of your galaxy, while the Destroyer works on the other."
"You heard him," I told Charlie. "He's threatened the worlds of this galaxy and I have to do my job. I will never, ever watch those stupid space operas after this,"
"What is a space opera?" the fish asked.
"You would never understand." I scanned the fleet, and nodded. "There must be a thousand ships, and that big one in the center -- your lord and master's flag ship?" I scanned in on the ship as Gortex agreed. I found what I thought was the bridge. The captain, or whatever he was called looked to be a fifteen foot tall, hammer-head shark.
I searched for a moment, then started my plan. I had to gather all of the crew into landing pods, thousands of them, and I launched them all to an aquatic world on the other side of the galaxy. Then, taking one third of the ships at a time, I sent them to an empty world that would be the perfect garage.
I gathered all the crew on the big ship, and sent them after the rest.
"What did you do?" Gortex demanded.
"I am a Guardian of the Worlds. You, as a representative of the invading fleet declared that your fleet would destroy this world, and my home world. I took the fleet away from you. Only the Flag ship remains, and that one is mine."
"You never told me the extent of this being's power."
"Until now," Charlie admitted, "I didn't know that it was that extensive myself."
"Learn something new every day," I said. "Now, Mr. Gortex, I think we need to pay calls on your lord and master."
I checked the atmosphere in the ship, and popped over to it, dragging the flounder with me. We landed in the bridge.
The Captain stood there, at least twenty feet long from head to tail, glaring at us.
"Please, my Lord and Master," Gortex said, and groveled on the floor. "I have the being known as Brian of Trent. I had no idea he was so powerful."
"What have you done with my fleet?"
I shrugged. "The fleet is now parked safely on a world, out there, some where. Your crew have found new lives on another world as well. I'd say they were happy as clams. In fact, I think they are clams."
"You are but a child of your species?" His eyes studied me, lifeless and black as a shark's.
I nodded. "As a unicorn, I am full grown, but yes, I am still considered to be a child."
"I have guided this fleet through the vast, intergalactic space to this spiral mass, only to be defeated by a child?"
"Too bad, so sad," I said with a smile. "Now, I am going to send the two of you off to join your crew, while I revamp this ship to suit my species."
The shark struck out at me. I didn't believe the speed that he could use to move that tail. It connected, and sent me flying across the bridge while the shark screamed in pain. I looked up to see the creatures mouth coming down at me. All those teeth closed around me, I felt myself being picked up, but the shark screamed again as his tongue sizzled.
I jumped out of the mouth, landed behind the command chair, and watched as the shark changed shapes. It shrank.
"What did you do?" Gortex shouted at me.
"He's going to be a donkey -- it's a beast of burden, so I can't send him to a water world."
"A beast of burden?" Gortex asked.
"What did you do to me?" the donkey asked,
"Take it easy, Daisy, it's only for the rest of your life. Now, Gortex there is going to take care of you."
I made Gortex look as human as I could, and sent both of them back to the fairy world. They really should fit right in. A moment later, I started to work on the ship. Soon, I could sit down on the command chair and feel comfy.
A large cat, with outstretched wings appeared on the floor beside me. "Toby?"
The seeger opened it's mouth, and a lady's voice spoke through it. "The Powers wish to thank you, once again for the tremendous service you have done for our world.
The screen in front of me showed the fairy world. The picture focused down to show John's tower in the north. The picture followed a line to the north east and showed a deep forest, I could feel the magic in it. There, in the center of the forest stood a large clearing. Nothing there, except a lake. A line, in blue, drew a large square around the lake and moved out to cover half the forest.
"This is the Barony of Trent," the lady said. "It is in independent holding, in your name only, but you now have a home on this world."
"Thank you for that," I said, truly moved.
"Now, before you wish to explore -- Space, the final frontier, you are needed here. Our seeger, Anna, will take you there."
A moment later, I found myself in a large hall, half filled with people, the same courtroom that I had faced Lord Kalandros. I sat down in an empty bench and waited.
Soon enough, a guard dragged a boy, my age, through one of the side doors, and forced him into a box in front of the court.
"You are the boy called Eric?" what looked to be a clerk asked,
"Yeah, that's me, sir, but I ain't no bloody thief."
"The judge will determine that."
More people entered the court, including a little girl of four that ran over to my bench and climbed up on my lap.
"Hi," she said. "Are you going to save us again? Everyone's mad at Eric."
"Of course I am," I whispered.
She hugged me, and settled back to watch.
I saw Eric look around the hall for his sister. He spotted us, stared at me for a second until I saw his face light up in recognition. He closed his eyes and bowed his head for a minute, then glanced back at me. He looked relieved,
My mouth opened as John and Melody walked into the room, with Toby right behind them. Cassie was not there. Will, my friend from the raided village walked in after them. He stared at me for a moment, then walked back.
"Brian?"
"Yes, it's me. This is Lil, the sister of that young man up in the docket. I think both of them may need a place to stay after this."
"I know just the place, too. I was called here, but until I saw you I had no idea it was so important."
"More than that," I said. "Seeger Toby is here, too. The powers are placing a lot on the outcome of this trial." I quickly told Will what had happened the day before I met him the year before.
Toby turned around in his seat, and stared at me. He gave me a wide grin, then pulled on John's sleeve and made him look as well.
A moment later, the three of them walked back as Will and I moved over on the bench.
Toby managed to squeeze over to give me a quick hug before Lil complained. "The Powers are so grateful to both of you for coming today."
"Toby, have I met your friend?" Melody asked.
"My dear, this is my friend, Brian of Trent. Kimblerly Trent was your maid of honor?"
"Yes, I remember Kim. A lovely girl. I am so happy to meet you,"
The Clerk of the Court called for silence as the judge entered. The judge took his seat.
"Eric, you are accused of taking a large amount of gold coins from Lord Heyden. How do you plead?"
"I didn't do it, m'lord. The gold was a gift to me and my sister. I was careful with it, I was -- just like he told me. I only bought what we needed to live, food and clothes, m'lord. But Lord Heyden started taxing us. I mean the tax men came every week to take more and more from us until we had nothing left, that's when he started talking that I had stolen the gold."
Lord Heyden stood up. At that point, I gave him a full dose of truth telling.
"Is this true, you taxed this boy of all that he had?"
"Of course it is. He had gold, and a lot of it. I wasn't about to let this vermin keep wealth like that, when I could take it from him."
"And you charge him with stealing from you?"
Lord Heyden puffed up for a moment. "He didn't steal anything, but he told his village his father had given him the money, and his father is a known smuggler and thief. Then he changed his story to say that some noble boy gave him the gold. Utter rubbish. Let him prove that, or I want him hung as a thief and the son of a thief."
"Very well, Eric, is it? Who is the noble boy that gave you the gold?"
"He didn't give me his name, m'lord. I was taking my sister to find our dad, when we met him and his friends coming out of the forest. There was a girl, two fauns and and old man with him. The girl was mad cause Lil was crying, but she always gets cranky when she's hungry, and the boy had to fight with them others for us. He saw that we was starving, and he gave Lil food, and the gold to me to take care of her. We owe him our lives."
"Do you know where this boy lives?"
"No, m'lord, but he's right back there, the one with my sister on his lap. You could ask him yourself."
I handed Lil over to Melody, and stood up. I slid out to the aisle, and motioned for Toby to follow me. I approached the bench. "Your honor, I gave this young man food, and gold. The kids were starving."
"Do I know you?"
"Yes, you do, your honor. I'm Brian of Trent. Two years ago you upheld my claim against Lord Kalandros. I took the gold from my own funds, and I will swear to it, if you like. I am a unicorn of my word."
The judge laughed. "Brian, if there is anything in this life I would swear to, it is just that." He stood up, and cleared his throat. "Will everyone stand? We are in the presence of a Guardian of the Worlds."
Everyone stood. I felt like blushing. "It's okay, just doing my job."
As the people sat back down, the judge turned back to the matter at hand. "Lord Heyden, I direct you to pay back every penny of the gold you took from Eric and his sister with a fifty percent penalty for their trouble."
"You believe the word of this child over me?" Lord Heyden shouted.
"Yes, I do. The Guardian known as Brian of Trent has proven time and time again that he is a unicorn to be trusted. Your case is dismissed."
Fiery letters appeared in the air between me, and Lord Heyden. "Beware the Unicorn."
"Pay the kid the money you owe him, and leave, Lord Heyden. Anything else will have you end up Eric's donkey, you know that."
He walked through the letters. "I'm not afraid of you."
I changed to myself, and reared up pointing my horn right into the man's face. "Only a jackass would touch a unicorn. Go ahead, make my day."
The man turned and ran away. I changed back to human. "Good choice." I turned, and handed Eric a bag stuffed with gold coins. "He forgot this."
Toby touched Eric's arm. "I speak for the Powers," he said, and kept his mouth open. "Go with our friend, Will, back to his village. There is a place for you and your sister there. You have been given a great task to perform, when you are ready for it, until then, you will want for nothing."
Chapter 2.
I sat down in the ship's command chair, and resisted the urge to ask for Engineering. "Computer on."
The whole bridge lit up, as a voice responded. "Welcome back. How can I help you?"
"I need information on the Destroyer."
"The Destroyer of Galaxies was discovered by this fleet. An entity of unlimited power, the Destroyer spans the space of two light years."
The screen lit up, and showed a film. The creature had no real shape, only fuzzy outlines -- like a jellyfish. I could see flashes of light, pulsing through the thing, I thought, like neurons, firing.
I watched a bolt of energy fired from the thing's core. The energy engulfed a small star. In seconds, the star shattered only to be absorbed into the Destroyer.
"The Destroyer is on course to intersect this world. From what communication we could establish, the Destroyer is looking for the being known as Brian of Trent."
"Why?" I asked it,
"To destoy it," the machine said, and for the first time since I had changed into a unicorn, I felt scared.
"How far away from this location is that thing?"
"Twenty light years. But, as it absorbs more engery from the stars it consumes, it is moving faster."
"Take us there," I said. "I want to approach the Destroyer from the middle.
The world blinked, and I saw the Destroyer now on the open screen. It moved in waves from the tip of it's nose to it's tail like a giant amoeba. I felt nothing from the creature.
"It is not aware of the presence of this ship," the computer stated.
"Probably doesn't care."
"Is this ship equipped with a lab?"
I felt another blink, and found myself in the lab. I could live here, I thought, looking at the banks of computers. I brought the sight of the creature up on the screen. I sent my thoughts out to probe the Destroyer, and pulled back a second later. The power felt familiar, somehow.
I tried again, sending my thoughts deep in the creature's innards, until I found what I took to be it's core. The thing wasn't truly aware, as such, it just was, but I felt the power that had created it, and it was mine.
Toby's star, I thought with a shudder. I had directed all that power to deep space, where it had exploded looking like a star, that burned out in seconds. But, there was power left over that had grown, and grown with the power I had used to send it to deep space. From there, it had started to search, for me, the one it was created to destroy.
How stupid could I have been? Stupid enough. I never considered that spell could take on a life of it's own. No, it was in deep space and it had exploded and it was over. Now I had to pay for that mistake.
I used my horn to cut a small piece of the beast off it's side. I brought it into the lab, then had to make a shielded box to to hold it. The piece tended to shoot out bolts of energy to regain strength.
After the computers made a complete analysis, I tried to destroy the sample. I tried every spell I could think of and nothing happened. If I couldn't destroy a little piece of the creature what was I going to do with two light years worth?
I finally put the sample back where I had found it, and shuddered.
I read through the analysis, and wished I had paid more attention in science class. None of it made much sense.
"What can destroy that thing?"
"No power in the known universe could destroy it."
I paced the lab for an hour, before I took off to find the kitchen. I ate, and settled back to think. I must have racked my brain for hours, thinking of all the old science fiction films I knew, then it came to me. Maybe nothing could destroy it, but could something absorb it?
"Computer, in this galaxy there are objects that are pure gravity, nothing, not even light can escape their gravitational pull. Find a 'Black Hole.'"
One second later, the computer brought up on the screen something that scared me to the depth of my soul. The Black Hole was nothing, non-existance. This was gaping maw in the galaxy that sucked everything into it.
"If the Destroyer came anywhere near this, what would happen."
After a moment, it said, the Destroyer would be contained within the Black Hole, and it would eventually be destroyed in turn."
"Is there a Black Hole anywhere on the creature's course?"
A star chart appeared. "The Destroyer is here," the computer said, "and this is it's present course.' A line appeared from the creature to the fairy world. "The closest Black Hole is here." Another line veered way off course.
"I will need to find a way to either bring the Destroyer to the Black Hole, or the Black Hole to the Destroyer."
Directing the ship back into orbit around the fairy world, I took myself home, to think some more.
Chapter 3.
After several days, I had the beginnings of an idea. I turned back to unicorn, cut a doorway into a different world, and traveled the forest where I could find Trouble, and his family,
Trouble met me, I think he came the moment he felt my distress. We nuzzled for a moment, before he looked me straight in the eyes.
"What happened now?"
"I need to see the Elders," I said. "There is an entity, stronger than anything in this universe heading this way. It can destroy stars in seconds, and it will take no time to destroy all the worlds we guard."
"I see. Come with me, and now."
We traveled to still another world. I found myself in a large, open field. A few unicorns were present, as well as two of the elders.
Trouble approached first, and waited for the acknowledgment. "Elder, I bring my friend to you, She has terrible news for the worlds we guard."
"Daughter, you may speak."
"The danger before is one of my own creation. I acted, perhaps a little hastily, but I had no idea that the consequences could be so grave." I projected my memories to the elder. "Mother, here, in the battle, the seeger, Toby, used power so grave I could not let that spell complete or it would have destroyed the village we were in, and a great deal of the surrounding countryside. I truly believed that it would destroy everything in range."
"I agree with your assessment. The spell would have done just that. And you responded?"
I showed her the vortex into deep space I had created, and the explosion as the spell went off.
"You did well, my daughter. I would not have thought of that. That spell exploded harmlessly in space."
"I thought so, but the spell was not destroyed in that blast. The explosion scattered the power of the spell over a vast distance in space, but the power remained. It grew." I said. "The power grew into an entity of it's own. The power now has some awareness of itself and others, and watch...."
I projected the image of the Destroyer feeding on a star.
"It would take two years for a beam of light to travel from one end to the other of that -- thing. It is on a direct course toward my home world, and the fairy realms looking for me. It was created to destroy me, and it will wipe out everything in its path. to do so."
I next showed her my memories of everything I tried to do to destroy one little piece of the thing.
"It feeds on power, mother, all power. The starship I took from the invaders declared there was no power great enough in the galaxy to destroy the entity, but only absorb it."
I showed her the image of the Black Hole, and this time she all but screamed trying to turn her head and close her eyes.
"Enough, child, I have seen such, once in my life, and I thank the Light that I was too far away to be swallowed by the dead star. Do you think you could lead that being to the Black Hole?"
"No, mother, I don't. I think I would be destroyed long before then. I have a plan to bring the Black Hole to that creature."
"Impossible."
"Yes, I agree, but there may be a way. I will need time, and a lot of help from every available Guardian to test my theory on this. But, if I am right, we will be able to get rid of the creature long before it can pose a threat to us, or this densely populated area here, about halfway between the creature and us."
She turned and studied Trouble for a moment. "Your father would be perfect for this assignment, my son. I will ask him, for both of you, and have other's join you as they can.
Chapter 4.
I brought the three of us on board the flag ship I had named The Guardian, and directed it back to the Destroyer. Both of the males stood, frozen as the screen displayed the creature. Again, I saw the Destroyer send an energy bolt that took a part a planet.
"That must be dealt with, now."
Without warning, Dad popped out of the ship. and streaked toward the Destroyer before I could stop him. He entered the energy field, and created a vortex with his horn. Traveling in huge circles, Dad made a maelstrom in the power field, but the creature absorbed it. A bolt of energy struck the unicorn and knocked him silly. I grabbed Trouble's hand and together we brought his father back to the ship before he was hit again.
As soon as he was comfortable, I sliced a couple of hunks of the Destroyer, trapped them in boxes, and directed the ship out of there.
Dad woke, a little groggy, and gave me a small smile. "Thank you for my life, daughter. After everything I had heard about the beast from the Elder, and you, I still had to be headstrong, and make a fool of myself. What could possibly stop that thing?"
"You'll see when you're ready. But, for the moment, I want to try something."
In the lab, I had set up the boxes containing the hunks of energy, with a clear view inside. I called on all the powers that I could think of, and formed a tiny dot of the matter that made up the black hole. It appeared in the box with the energy, and we watched as the piece of the Destroyer fought against the gravitational pull. Two seconds later, the hunk of Destroyer vanished forever inside the mini hole.
"What is that?" Trouble asked. The box that contained the hole started to shake. With a thought, I unmade the mini hole.
Back on the bridge, I took us back to just within range of the singularity. Dad, and Trouble simply shook their heads.
"How many of those boxes would we need?" Dad asked.
"Between five and seven hundred," the computer answered.
"This will take time," I said, "and with all the help we can get. When the boxes are ready, we take fly them inside the Destroyer, and open them. All the minis will draw together to for a real Black Hole and you saw the result."
"Do we want to have seven hundred boxes on this ship all at once? What if one broke open?"
"Not on this ship. I have a thousand ships ready to fly, and we would load one box per ship."
The process of making the mini holes was tedious, and time consuming. It took a lot of trial and effort to find the right size -- large enough to be effective, but not enough to destroy the box.
Unicorns would come and go to help as they pleased, but we always had enough help to keep the job going around the clock. I always knocked off and went home to keep Mom happy.
****
"This is so stupid," a stallion complained. "Why do we have to waste all this time making these boxes? We should be fighting, like unicorns, not making boxes because a little girl said so."
"That little girl knows what she's talking about," said another.
"Patience," Dad cut into the conversation. "You can't fight that entity like a unicorn. I tried. If that little girl hadn't pulled my tail back onto this ship I would have died, fighting like a unicorn. That thing feeds on power, any sort of power. With all the power I used against it, I would have been no more than a light snack."
"But it can't stand up to all of us," the stallion insisted.
"My son, that is an idea. Let's try it. My daughter to be has samples of the creature. Let us see for ourselves how well that would work."
I brought out a box containing one squre foot of the beast. The stallion went first. I saw power spinning from his horn, into the box. I saw him struggle as he drew more power and fired it over and over at the sample.
"It's getting stronger," the stallion said.
Dad, Trouble and I added our power to the stallion's efforts. I had to call it off when it looked as if the sample would break the box.
"Now, watch." I placed a mini hole into the box, and in seconds, the sample vanished into the void.
"You see?" Dad asked. "This may be tedious and boring, but it will work. If every Guardian tried at the same time to fight that monster, we would only make it stronger, and lose most of our number."
The stallion went back to work, but I had the feeling he was not convinced.
For the next few days a lot of unicorns showed up to help, but several more started complaining about how tedious this was. My stomach turned sour as I thought about it, and I did report to the Elders about this as well. I thought there would be trouble, real trouble, and I wanted it stopped.
The next day, everyone working in the lab stopped as we received a distress call from one, then another unicorn. Everyone popped up to the bridge and with all that power we arrived at the Destoryer's location in seconds.
There, I saw a whirlwind inside the creature where six unicorns were fighting. A second later, one unicorn passed. Acting as a group, we pulled one unicorn out of the creature as another passed. It was a fight, not against the Destroyer, but with the unicorns that were fighting it.
We managed to pull another unicorn from the fray, as the last three were taken by the Destroyer. A moment later, we had the remains, and I took the ship away.
I felt something else. During the fight, the Destroyer felt my presence. We dodged the bolts of power it sent after us, but the thing transmitted to me.
The language made no sense, but the meaning was clear. "My creator demanded your death, Brian of Trent, I will give it to him."
I didn't try to respond.
In spite of our best efforts, we lost one unicorn on the way back. I refused to believe it. Five unicorns down, when our numbers were so few to begin with. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, and most of all I wanted to tear the Destroyer apart piece by piece and make it suffer as I was.
"Daughter?"
I looked at the old unicorn, and blinked my eyes.
"We have to get the stallions back to their families, and the Elders are calling for us, all of us."
"I thought that unicorns faded out when they passed," I said.
"They do, when it's the right time for them to pass," he said. "In time, the Light will call them back, but until then their families will care for the bodies."
The meeting with the Elders went quickly. We stood in a smaller circle, while the Elders forbade anyone from approaching the Destroyer.
"When the Black Hole project is completed, we will all go to see this to the end. After that, we will call on every capable unicorn to replace what was lost so carelessly,"
Chapter 5.
One thousand ships stood ready on the barren planet I had chosen for them. Each contained one box straining with it's cargo. I placed my ship at a safe distance from the Destroyer, far enough away to avoid the gravitational pull, but close enough to see the results.
The first wave of three hundred ships flew into the middle of the Destroyer, dropped their cargo, and returned to their home world without any response from the creature. The second wave drew a tentative probe, but nothing else. The last wave drew no response.
All of us used a little power to force the boxes into one, huge flock. I gave the command, and all of the boxes vanished, freeing the mini holes. As I expected, the holes started to pull together. Over the next hour, the mini holes formed a small black hole in the center of the creature. Those of us that had worked on making the mini holes, directed power into making the hole larger.
"There," I said, and pointed at the screen. We saw the new black hole, that looked larger than our model. I felt the first waves of a quasar, forming.
The new singularity was not within light years of any star system. But, it pulled in light, gasses, and bit by bit, the Destroyer lost mass as it, too, was pulled into the Hole.
The creature shot bolts of pure power into the hole, hoping to destroy it as it had everything else in it's path, but the power could not escape.
The Destroyer turned frantic as it reached out for anything that might save it. I felt it touch me, and I heard the question it asked. "Why?"
"My death is not yours to give," I answered it.
I felt a pang as I watched the last bit of the creature vanish into the hole, and I felt something else, something that made me furious, but I had no time to deal with it now.
The Elder mare cleared her throat. "Five lives were lost to impatience. But now, they have been redeemed by our Daughter, through her knowledge of human science, and the will to take the time to find the correct solution."
"Grandmother, I think it was also the same trap I've fell into from time to time. I mean, the Guardians have so much power that we tend to forget that no matter how much power you have there will always be someone or something that has more. The stallions that were lost could not even imagine anything that could stand up to six unicorns."
Chapter 6.
I dropped everyone off at their worlds, and took my ship back into orbit over the fairy world. I touched went straight to John's tower, dressed as Kimberly, and knocked on the door.
Toby opened the door, then slammed it in my face. In spite of the bolt, I pushed the door open, and froze the faun where he stood.
"I speak for the powers," he said.
"I don't," I answered him back, with a shrug. "So, tell me about that little spell of yours you directed to kill me.
"You killed it. You destroyed it. What more do you want? That was all the power I had left."
"I thought you were my friend," I said. "I would have given your powers back to you, when the Powers decided it was right, but not after that. That THING destroyed whole star systems. Do you have any idea how many worlds -- how many peoples it killed?"
"No," he stammered out. "It told me it was feeding, growing big enough to destroy you. I didn't know it was killing people."
"Tell me the truth, or it will go a lot worse for you," I said.
"Or what? You're going to throw me into that thing you made?"
"It's a Black Hole, and no, I'm not here to punish you, the Powers will do that. I just wanted to know why? Why did I have to destroy a life form like no other. Why did you set it on this galaxy to destroy everything in it's path?"
"You really are stupid, you know that. I wanted the power again. I created that spell to destroy you and everything for miles around you. All those kids, and the grown ups, too."
John walked into the room, staring at his step-son.
"You sent my spell into space, and took all of my powers away from me, but I made that spell blow up, like you did with that fake horn. You thought it was over, but I knew it was still there. I could draw power from it, not much, but enough. I helped get it started, and it grew, and grew until my spell could destroy a world, then a star, and even a unicorn.
"When my spell moved close enough to this world, then I would have you. With you out of the way, I could take my spell back, and I would have more power than all of the Guardians. I would have more power than the Powers. No one would ever laugh at me again."
"People laugh at you now?"
"All the time," Toby shrieked. "They call me stupid, because I can't talk like they do. I'm half-faun, and they hate me for it."
"You know that isn't true," John said. "No one has laughed at you or made fun of you since you moved here."
"I hear them laughing all the time," Toby said.
"So? People can laugh, and it doesn't have to be at you," I said. "I used to get beat up at school all the time, so which is worse?"
"I don't care. Everyone hates me."
I looked at John. "Ever wonder about Columbine? We came this close to losing this world because of his hatred."
Toby screamed. "The Powers say I am not a seeger any more. They hate me, too." He balled his fists, and stormed across the room at me. "You have taken everything from me."
"Go ahead, hit me if it will make you feel better. Have I ever hated you?"
He stared at me, then shook his head. "No."
"Toby, it's my job to guard this world against threats -- even from my friends. But, this can't go on. I think you need a vacation, a long vacation, and maybe when you get back you will feel better about yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm going to grant your fondest wish," I said. "I want you to spend some time with your father and brother."
He snorted. "They hate me, too. I turned Deelan into a fawn, remember?"
"You think they could forgive you for that? They have, I know. Here," I said. A second later, Toby turned into a faun, as he had that day with the Hunter. "Go, they are waiting for you, and they will send you home, when you are ready."
Toby patted himself down. "You did this for me? Why? I tried to kill you."
"You forgot who you were. Cassie's spell, and all that power made you forget the person you were when I met you. Toby, you are a good kid, a really good kid. Remember that." I sent him off to join his other family.
"That was very kind," John said. "I will miss him, too. He is a good kid."
I felt something else, and I nodded. "Take care of the others," I said, "but I need to see someone."
Outside, I found Trouble waiting for me. "Are you quite finished?"
"Yes, thank you," I said with my best grin. "Why are you here?"
He gave me a puzzled look. "Why do you think, my darling. We need to answer the Elder's call."
"I didn't hear them? What call?"
"Remember? We need to replace what was lost."
I frowned and walked by his side. "We need to pass our powers on to new unicorns?"
"No, why would we give up our lives when we are needed here? I have no wish to return to the Light at this point. There are other ways to replace unicorns, many ways, and I will be happy to teach you what they are."
"Oh," I said, feeling stupid. "Oh!" I felt my whole body blush. "I just bet you will teach me."
"It is our duty as Guardians, my dear."
"Duty, so that's what you call it."
He picked me up, kissed me right on the lips, and a second later we stood in a huge pasture not far from his parents home.
Chapter 7.,
I walked into the house, through the kitchen door, to find Mom sitting at the kitchen table, smoking and drinking coffee. "Mom?"
"Kim," she said and crushed the cigarette out. "I wasn't expecting you in so early. Where have you been? Saving the galaxy from aliens?"
"No, that was last month, Mom. This time I was getting everything ready."
She looked down at the papers on the desk. "I'm glad you're getting ready. I don't know how I am ever going to manage this mess."
"What?" I asked as I sat down at the table. A glass of sweet ice tea appeared on the table in front of me.
"Bills. I did get that raise at work, but even that isn't helping. The bank will be foreclosing on the house, and soon."
"I told you I could take care of that," I said.
"What, with those gold coins?" she demanded.
Two ingots of gold appeared on the table, along with several huge jewels, two huge diamonds, and a larger sapphire. "Like that?"
"That's a fortune," she said. "Where did you get this?"
"From my vault in Glengarion. Mom, this isn't even petty cash for me, just loose change."
"You could have told me about this," she said.
"I have, lots and lots of times, mother, but you kept saying that everything was fine. You didn't need this."
She slumped forward. "I never dreamed it was real."
"It is. That alien creature I fought was real, and I have a fleet of a thousand spaceships ready to go anywhere in the galaxy. Now, are you ready for some good news? The best news is the world?"
"Yes, if you will sell this gold off and pay the mortgage."
"I will, there's that new jeweler in town that buys this stuff. But, we may not have to. Let me explain."
"Let's get to the jewelers now."
"Mom, I wanted to tell you the best news in the world."
"Do you want to go out for ice cream? We can afford to celebrate now."
"Mom, will you just listen to me? I'm going to have twins."
"That's nice, Kim, but what about that ice cream...." She frowned. "What do you mean twins?"
"Boys, twin boys. Mom, I'm pregnant. I won't be able to stay here much longer, that's what I was getting ready."
"Kim, are you sure? Have you seen a doctor?"
"I am sure, and no, I don't need to see a doctor." I took a long sip of my ice tea. "Not much a doctor could do for me, anyway. But, as I said, I'm leaving here, and...."
"You're running away? Kim, this is no time for a temper tantrum. You're too young to be pregnant.... Who's the father?"
"Trouble, my colt friend?" I said. "You've met him. Tall, handsome and brilliant?"
"He's in trouble for this. What's his real name?"
"You don't speak Unicorn, Mom. You wouldn't understand it."
She stood up. "Kim, look at you. You are developing nicely, and beautifully at that, but you're not ready to have a baby, let alone twins. If you can carry to term it will be a miracle."
"Mom, you're not getting this. I am fully grown, as a unicorn, and I won't have any problems at all. That's what magic is all about. It takes six months, well five months now, and...."
"What takes six months?" she asked.
"My term. It takes six months, which is why I can't stay here much longer. I have to go home, and get ready."
"You are home, and it takes nine months, the last time I checked."
I shook my head. "Mom, think about this. I'm not pregnant as a human."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
"Mom, when a two horses mate, what do you get?"
"A foal," she said.
"Yes, and that takes eleven months. When two people make love they get a baby and it takes nine months. When two unicorns mate, well, have wild passionate sex like you wouldn't believe, it takes six months to make a unicorn foal. I'm not having babies, Mom. I'm having unicorns."
She stared at me.
I pointed down to my nether regions. "I'm not ready to carry a human baby to term in this shape, but I couldn't think about carrying two foals, with hooves and horns like this. I have to turn back to unicorn so I can't stay here much longer. I've spent the last month getting our new house ready."
"New house?" she asked, and still looked stunned.
"Yes, palace would be a better word. See, technically, I am the Baron of Trent, now. The Powers awarded me my own land, and that title since I'm famous there as Brian of Trent. I had to be a boy most of the time I spent there, so I have a title, and all this land but most of the land is in this enchanted forest, well, except for the lake, but I didn't want to clear trees for the house, I think they'd get upset, so I built the manor house in the same town as John built his tower.
"You were there for his wedding last year. Remember? Nice place, and our house will move itself, when it feels like it, but it is really big. And there is this huge pasture, for Trouble and his folks when they come to visit, and to raise the kids."
"Kim, couldn't you just turn the babies to human?"
"No, that wouldn't be right. They are going to be born unicorns, and I will be there to help teach them their jobs, but it will be their choice if they want to turn human or to take human names. I mean, I will, once the kids are weaned, and they may change because I do, but they are going to be unicorns before they are humans. I did it the other way, you know, and it makes things a little awkward with the others."
"You don't have to do this," Mom said. "You are still so young to get tied down with kids, now."
"I am a unicorn, mother. All able bodied unicorns were called, by the Elders, to do our duty to the worlds and our species, and to replace those poor souls that were lost. I am having two, and from what I've heard there are a total of twelve on the way.
"I do have just short of forever to live my life, have fun, and raise many more foals than these, but the Guardians need the new unicorns now, not in a few years when you think I will be ready, I know what my duty is -- duty, that's the word for it, and it is another part of the job description."
"So, as I understand this, you are going to live in this big house, as a unicorn to have your twins, and it's a magic house?"
"I will be in stable as a unicorn, and yes, it is. Come on," I said pointing to the kitchen door. "It's right out here."
Mom opened the door to see the lake at the south end of Trent. She slammed the door closed. She opened it, and stepped through to the banks of the lake. She looked around the forest as I joined her.
"It's okay, everyone. I want you to meet my Mom," I called out.
Two young satyrs ran out from the woods. They giggled, bowed, and ran back. A moment later, two fauns stepped out of the woods. Deelan pushed his brother forward.
"Deelan, good to see you. This is my Mom. Toby?"
Toby bowed his head. "I owe you more than I can every repay," his thoughts flashed at me. "I lost me in the power of the seeger, and I swear it won't happen again. You were right, my father and Deelan welcomed me back, and this is where I belong."
"He means home, with our family, not here," Deelan explained.
"I got that part. Mom, this is Deelan, and his brother Toby. Toby's the kid that did his best to destroy the universe."
"They're naked," Mom said, as if in a daze.
"No, they're fauns. Half deer, and half boys. It really wouldn't make sense for them to wear clothes."
"They even have white tails, this is incredible. I am so happy to meet both of you."
Toby bowed, again, and held out his hand to Mom. She shook it, and stepped back. "Where is the house?"
"In town. I wanted this land to stay untouched, a sanctuary for anyone or thing that needs it." I turned to Toby. "I'm going to show her the house. You are welcome there, when you go back to visit your mother."
Toby nodded, and both of them ducked back into the woods.
I snapped my fingers, and we stood at the edges of the village. Mom took one look at the village, the controlled chaos of the houses, and villagers, and sighed. "I could live here."
"This way," I said and almost dragged her down to Mr. Bedrick's shop. "You won't want to go home after this."
I saw Mom's eyes water as we walked into the shop. "What is that? I've never smelled anything so delightful before."
"Bread. Mr. Bedrick is a true magician when it comes to baking bread. Mr. Bedrick, my Mom."
"Ah, the lady who would have killed you if you didn't change back into a girl?"
Mom laughed. "That is so true"
Mr. Bedrick split a loaf of bread, added butter and gave each of us a half. Mom took one bite, and glanced at me.
"I will never forgive myself. Kim has told me so much about your bread, but I never believed it could be true. I will be staying here, with her, and I will need a least a dozen loaves a day."
"For you, Mrs. Trent, no charge. You will have all the bread you want. I owe my life, and my shop to your daughter, and her Unicorn Fund."
"I will still pay you for mine. I'm eating for three now."
"Congratulations," he shouted. "You and your stallion friend must be so excited."
"Yes, it's his first time, too. He will be moving in with me, too, to help with the foal rearing."
"The two of you will be married?"
"In human terms, no, but in unicorn terms, yes. There is a ceremony that the Elders have for this occasion, and when it is our turn, I will invite the whole town. I have one more stop to make before I show Mom the new house."
After we finished our bread, I took Mom outside, then took us to Glengarion to visit my first warehouse.
"Kim, that building is yours? It's a palace right out of a fairy tale."
"Where do you think you are, Mom? This whole world is a fairy tale. But, I took that from the slave trader I told you about, and that is where I store my gold, and the gold for the Unicorn Fund. Come on."
We approached the main doorway, complete with a portcullis. "Password," the door said.
"Let me through, or I will kick you down with my hooves."
"Enter, Lady Kimberly."
The door and the gate cranked open long enough for the two of us to enter, then they slammed shut.
We walked through the yard to the main keep. A leprechaun popped in front of the door. The tiny person was young, as leprechauns go, and he help up a hand.
"Now, then, who might you be?"
"Kimberly Trent, the unicorn that owns this castle, and you?"
"Are you any relation to Brian of Trent?"
"Yes, that's me, any other questions?"
"State your business, or be turned away," he said.
"My business is my own, not tiny people's. But, I need to pick up some gold, and show my mother around the place. I know, you're just doing your job, but don't annoy the unicorn. I'm pregnant, and not in the mood for it."
Ten more leprechauns appeared in front of me. The one I had been talking to backed off, and an older man, cleared his throat. "Now then, missy, we will let you in, but first, we have several demands that must be met."
I changed to unicorn, power ran up and down my horn and I pointed to right at the man's chest. "I think someone needs a lesson in manners." I used the power to clear the castle of everyone, except the mice.
I looked around the assembled people. "Okay, wee Timothy, what is the name of the Light are your buddies doing, trying to keep me out of my own castle?"
"It's okay, lassie, the boys were just having a little fun with you, that's all."
I stared down at the man with the demands. "You think this is a bit of fun?"
"No, it isn't. We are the workers in your castle, and we will not be ignored. We have demands that have to be met, missy, or you will be barred from this place."
"Excuse me? You are within five seconds of spending your life as a cockroach. Do you want to rethink that last statement? I am a Guardian of the Worlds, and I'm pregnant, don't mess with me."
"All you ever do with that gold is give it out to people in need. What about us? We need it, too, and we are demanding half of that gold for our use."
"This is a not for profit operation. According to the 'Do-Gooders Handbook', rule number 56, helpers at the warehouse are not entitled to any more compensation than has been agreed to. Tim, how much do you pay these guys?"
"A gold piece a day."
"And what is it that they do for that gold piece a day?"
"We take care of the gold, and everything. We keep it organized, and neat."
I stared at the man. "And?"
"That's what we do. We keep it organized, and if we don't get the gold we demand, we will just take it."
"You're a cockroach," I said and watched the leprechaun shrink into a bug. "Anyone want to join him? I turned the man back. "Any questions?"
"She can't take all of us. Get her, lads, take that horn from her head."
"If you touch me you will spend the rest of your lives as donkeys. That's the way the magic works and I can't turn you back. Go ahead."
"She's right, Collin, that's the way the magic works. Only a jackass would touch touch a unicorn, and I will not prove it."
Collin waved his hands, and cast a spell at me. "Now, then, missy, give us the gold."
"And, if I say no?"
"I command you to give us the gold," he shouted, and stood back.
Others started in with the chorus, "Give us the gold." All of them cast control spells at me.
After a while, I had two groups. The larger one was with Collin, and the rest were with Tim. "We are not cockroaches," one of Tim's group said.
Collin stepped forward. "I command you to give us the gold."
I looked at Mom. "It isn't all a fairy tale. But see what I go through? I don't need a crew of leprechauns to keep this place neat and organized, and I don't need to pay them in gold for a job that should pay a few copper pennies. Try to be nice, and they want more."
I sighed, and turned back to the new Leprechaun's Union. "Who asked you guys here to keep this place organized?"
"Timothy did, as a favor to you," one said.
"Who agreed to pay you so much for your services?"
"Timothy, did."
"Who owns this castle and all the gold in it?"
"You do," the group chorused.
"I can do with magic what you guys do for a gold piece a day. I won't be a bully about this, but I want each and everyone of you to apologize to my mother for causing this scene, then go back to work. Or, you may walk out the gates, and you will be barred from ever returning. Your choice."
Each member of the group cast another control spell at me. "Give us the gold.
"Five.... four.... three.... two.... one. Done." I cast the controls spells right back at them. "Freeze, each of you.
They did so.
"Get on your hands and knees and bark like dogs."
They did so.
"All of the gold that Tim paid you has been returned to the Unicorn Fund, with thanks for the donation. Now, march out that gate, and go home. You are not permitted to return here, or to any of my warehouses. Anyone who tries will be a cockroach. Is that clear?"
"Stay right where you are," Collin said, shaking himself out of the control spell. "You don't scare me, my girl. Give us the gold."
The others followed his lead.
"Okay, you're cockroaches, and you were warned. You will stay cockroaches for the next two years, anyone who survives will get a gold piece from me. Good luck, but I will spray this place down with Raid if you get any ideas."
I gathered the bugs up, and dropped them in the back alley where I had met the flounder.
"What was that all about," Mom asked me.
"The definition of power. I found rule number one the hard way, but it's true. People with power have a hard time thinking that there are others that have more power than they do. Those leprechauns didn't believe that I could take them. But, that's rule number one. No matter how much power you have, there is always someone or something that has more. That applies to everyone, except God. I told you about the Destroyer, the being that was two light years long? One light year is several trillion miles. It was about half the distance from our sun to Alpha Centauri. It could destroy stars with a thought. It killed five unicorns, because they grew impatient, and could not believe it had that much power.
"And yet, all that power was no match for a Black Hole. So, it goes on."
The castle doors opened, and I took Mom through the building.
"Well?" I asked her at the end of the tour.
"I could shoot myself. For two years, you have been telling me about this wealth, and I thought you were making up tales, like you did when you were small. All the times you offered to pay the bills, I just shrugged it off and worried myself sick, because I didn't understand rule number one, either. My child is not supposed to have all this power, but, now that you do, let's go see the new house."
Chapter 8.
I stood in my pasture, watching my two month old foals race, hell for leather across the fields, stretching their legs, and enjoying the sun.
"Well, Lassie," Tim said, popping in on one of the fence rails. "Things are still quiet at the warehouses after your last inspection. The boys are growing well."
"Yes, they are," I said with a lot of pride. "The last of this years foals have been born. We have seven boys and five girls. Finally, a real increase in numbers. Trouble and I are going to do our duty again, when the boys are grown a bit more."
Tim sighed. "The end of an era, this is. No more adventures for you, and Brian of Trent will fade away into the legends of this world, as did Black Johnnie and Lord Kalandros."
I gave the leprechaun a long stare. "And just what do you mean by that?"
"Now that you're the mother to such fine boys, you won't be turning human anymore now will you?"
"You don't know me, too well, do you? If you think I am putting myself out to pasture just short of forever, you are getting senile in your old age. You may be too old for adventures, but as a human I will be fifteen in a couple of months. I have a large area back home, that has to be tended, and I will not go back as a unicorn, and I am still a Guardian, kids or no kids. The boys have seen me, in my human forms, both of them, and they are eager to give it a try, too."
"I should have known you would be bringing them up to be as headstrong, and stubborn as yourself."
"Why thank you, Tim, I didn't think you had noticed. Stubborn, that's me, headstrong, and I don't back down, but even you, I hope, will admit that Brian of Trent left this world better than he found it."
"Yes, my lass, I will admit that, and so will everyone that was a slave, or lost a loved one to Creel. You did well for this world. But, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, heaven help us when there are three of you out there, trying to help."
"You haven't seen anything, yet," I said, and stepped out of the way as Mom and Mr. Bedrick walked out to the paddock.
The twins raced each other to get the the fence first.
"Gramma, Grampa, cakes?" they chorused.
"Of course, little ones," Mr. Bedrick said and passed out two oat cakes, made with fresh grain and a helping of maple and brown sugar oatmeal from home. Two seconds later, Trouble popped in for his share.
I saw the way Mom looked at the baker, and he returned the look. There was a bit of difference in their ages, but if they could find some happiness, I was all for it.
A shadow passed over the grass. Mom looked up and trembled at the sight of a large dragon, with bright red and yellow scales, flying over head.
The twins looked up, and shouted, "Uncle Charlie! Uncle Charlie!."
"Very good, both of you," I said. "Charlie sent that dragon over head. Why, I couldn't say, but the twins saw it as an illusion, not a real dragon. Okay, boys, why did you know that wasn't a real dragon?"
"Mommy, it has no smell, and no heartbeat, and we can't hear the wings beating."
"And that means?" I said.
"We always use our noses, ears, and eyes."
"Perfect. You guys are learning fast. Now, I want you to do this together. Use your power to bring that dragon down here."
Bands of Light flowed from both of their homes, surrounded the illusion, and brought it gently down to the ground.
"Okay, kids, let's make this illusion better."
"Do they have that much power?" Mr. Bedrick asked.
"Yes, and much more than that, even for toddlers, but it's Charlie's power they're using."
The dragon grew twice the size, a moment later, the smell of sulfer filled the air, and the sound of rasping breaths followed by a couple of loud growls followed.
"Good job. Both of you will make the Elders so proud. Now, who can tell me what you do when you meet a real dragon?"
"We bow real low," one said, and showed his grandmother. "And we say, 'Ancient One, it is an honor to see you."
"No, that's not right. We say, 'Its an honor for you to see us!"
"Uh uh. Mommy, what's right?"
"You had it right, my darling boy. Your brother was just teasing you. Now you," and I said the other's unicorn name. "Do dragons eat unicorns?"
"No, they don't Mommy"
"Good for you. Now, let's make that dragon fly."
Charlie appeared outside the fence. "Kimberly, my love, what are you doing?"
"Showing the kids how to make your illusion better. See?" I pointed at the dragon, that sat up on its haunches and growled. A moment later, it blew a jet of flame."
"That's draining my power when you do that," Charlie complained.
"Why did you send that dragon here, if you didn't want the kids to play with it."
"Good dragon, Uncle Charlie," both of the boys said.
"I am not now, and I never will be related to a unicorn," he half shouted.
"But Charlie, you should be proud that the boys have taken to you so well. Remember what happened when we first met?" I said.
"All too well," he said. With a snap of his fingers, he made the illusion vanish, and he vanished a second later.
"He didn't say good 'bye," one of the boys said.
"You could bring him back and remind him," I said.
A second later, Charlie popped back in. He glanced around. "What?"
"You forgot to say good 'bye to the kids. It means a lot from their favorite uncle."
"Good 'bye, children, and don't ever do what your Mom tells you to do." He popped out again as the boys laughed.
"You're demon sounded rather testy when he left," Tim commented.
"He hates being a doting uncle, or so he says."
"Now then, my lass, I had a question for you. What happened to all of the cockroaches that used to be my pals? I knew where they nested."
"Ah, glad you asked. I had a change of heart," I said. "I gave them new lives."
"As what?" Tim demanded.
"As leprechauns. I gave them a new, permanent home, and let them invite their families and, or girl friends to go with them."
"Do I want to know where you sent them?"
"Sure, if you ever want to visit them. I sent them to Gallway, a little place outside the city, and close enough to the bay."
"You sent them where?" Tim asked.
"Ireland, wee Timothy. I sent them to live in the west country. If anyplace in the worlds needs leprechauns it's Ireland."
Tim threw back his head and laughed. "That it does, my lass, that it does. I have never been there."
"Then, when the kids are old enough, and if Mom wants to go on a vacation, you can come with us."
"I think I just might. If only to keep you and the kids on the straight and narrow, if you get my meaning?"
"That, I do," I said with another laugh. "I don't know what I would ever have done without you, Tim. I really don't."
"Uncle Tim, did you really know Mommy when she was a little boy, before she became a unicorn like us?"
"I did, lad, I did, and someday, when you are old enough, I will tell you all about it."
AH
An old. and very odd story that hasn't seen the light of day for ten years.
The Lady's Choice
Andy Hollis
The door to my room slammed open with a crash louder than my stereo. My sister, Elise, stood fuming in the hallway outside. Her cheeks flushed a dark red; her pale blonde hair fell in strands over her face, and any second I expected to see steam from her ears. She jammed her fists into her hips, and shouted.
"Must that noise be so loud?"
I waved the stereo's remote as a baton. "But it's Wagner. Can't appreciate all those Valkyries without the volume, and I picked it out just for you. Don't you ever knock?"
She walked over to the stereo and pulled the plug. "There. Don't you ever wear clothes?"
"What for?" I asked with a shrug as I sat back down on the bed. Irritating my sister was one thing I did to perfection.
"This room is a disaster. How can you live like this? And what's that?" She pointed to my new poster. Right beside my chart of all the world's cats I had hung up a picture of several endangered species. Speaking very slowly I said, "That's a fox -- f-o-x, and the bird is a falcon -- f-a-l-c-o-n."
She winced. "I know what they are."
"Then why did you ask?"
"And what about that?" She pointed at the far corner of the room. Although we've had this fight every other day, she still had to go on. "Don't you have any shame at all? I'm the only kid in school who has a brother that's litter box trained."
I licked my hand. "I'm a cat. I like being a cat, and I am exactly what Mom has made me to be. You are just a dumb old girl, and if you don't like it you can take it up with her." I watched the blood drain from her face.
I may have gone too far. Although I'm fourteen and Elise is twelve, she's still a good head taller than me. She gritted her teeth and her cheeks turned from pale back to dark red.
"I'm telling Mom you said that. Just you wait, you stupid fur ball. You'd better get changed because we're leaving soon."
"I'm not going with you. Mom said. I've got 'Curse of the Cat People' and Midnight's counting on a hunt tonight. I hate those stupid meetings, and do you really think they will want me back after last time?"
She gave me a little grin. The corners of her mouth turned up as she held out her right hand and said a word of power. A dish of cream popped onto her palm.
I licked my lips as she placed the dish on the floor.
"Here, kitty, kitty. Get the nice treat."
"That's not fair, Elise." I dropped down to all fours and trotted over to the dish. By the time I took my first lap I had turned completely to cat. I let my tail twitch a couple of times, then sat back on my haunches to wash my face. One thing for Elise, she always fell for the "I don’t want to turn cat" routine.
"Are you two ready yet," Mom asked from the doorway. "Elise, I told you to get him dressed. He needs to be human tonight."
"But it's a coven meeting, Mom. Boys aren't allowed."
"This time they are." Mom snapped her fingers and I stretched back to human shape.
"You promised I could stay home tonight. Midnight's counting on it."
"Then he will have to be disappointed. Mistress Hildegard herself has requested that all candidates and their -- chosen males attend the party tonight. You do remember her, Paul?"
"Nice lap," I said with a yawn.
"Which brings up the other subject. As far as anyone is concerned, young man, you are fully human and have never been anything else."
"Okay." I said with a loud sigh, and asked the girls to leave my room as I pulled out clothes.
I really hated being a part time human. I hated giving up the freedom I had as a cat, and I hated wearing human clothes. What a waste of time. I put on a white shirt and blue slacks and figured Mom would add the tie if she wanted.
"What are you doing?"
I turned around to scratch Midnight's head. "Sorry, Mom's making me go after all. Seems the head witch ordered it."
Midnight growled as his eyes flashed orange. He had been Mom's familiar for as long as I could remember. "I suppose she has no choice but she has broken many promises to me lately."
"You and me both. I'll be glad to get this over with. It's been ten years...." I let the statement drop. Better not to think about that....
We lived, at Mom's choice, in a subdivision right in the middle of nowhere. The one road in cut through an old growth woods filled with birds, mice and the occasional fox. I knew them all from hunts that is when Mom relented and let me stay in cat shape as a treat. At the back end of the development was a long expanse of gullies and a dry wash that could have been a regular desert.
Mistress Hildegard, however, lived in an estate on the other side of nowhere and the drive seemed to take hours. I curled up on the back seat of the car as best as I could and slept.
I had been to many coven meetings as a cat, and I could always find a lap to sleep on. Now, I suppose, Mom wanted me to mingle -- not one of my strong points.
I graduated from the seventh grade before Mom pulled me for "home schooling." I did have a few friends -- well a couple of kids actually tolerated my company. Everyone else, including my teachers found me aloof. I really did not play well with others.
From everything I had read about witches, Mom's meetings were a real bore. They should call it a garden club or something - anything besides a black mass. No one ever did magic, and no devils or demons turned up for any wild orgies. I suppose the Underworld has better things to do than to listen to a bunch of giggling ladies trade gossip and sewing tips.
This time there were guys at the meeting. Sons and husbands of the witches that had no idea what was going on. Every witch had to pass an initiation before they were considered full members of the coven. Membership required that the witch transform a human (a male, of course, but not necessarily a family member) into something else permanently. Mom turned my father into a dog long before I was old enough to get to know him. Elise was going to turn me into a cat -- no surprise there.
Part of me wanted to warn every guy at the party what was going to happen to them, but I knew they wouldn't believe me. Besides Mom made it quite clear what would happen to me if I did, and the threat of living out my life as a dog was more than enough to keep my mouth shut.
Instead, I found a supply of milk, settled down on a comfy sofa inside and waited for the party to be over. Since everyone else was outside by the pool I didn't worry about being disturbed. At least, for the first hour or so.
A young woman, rather pretty with raven black hair and eyes as green as my own, sat down on the sofa right next to me. If I could I would have been on her lap in seconds.
"Hi, I thought I saw someone in here all alone. Not feeling sociable?"
I shook my head.
She studied me for a moment with a frown on her face. "You're Paul, Melanie's son?"
This time I nodded. "That's right."
"I'm Beverly. Miss Hildegard is my grandmother, and she sent me to get you. It's no big deal," she said and tousled my hair. Despite myself I purred. "She just wanted to meet you."
"What for? I've met her lots of times."
"She did ask."
I sighed as I left my spot and followed Beverly to another room set up as a business office. Mistress Hildegard and another elderly lady sat behind a large desk. This one typed into a computer.
"Grandmother, this is Paul. He says he has met you before."
"I'm sure we have," she said in a tone that dismissed Beverly back to the party. "Come in, child. Let me take a look at you."
The head witch let her age show. I stared back at the lady's snow white hair, and lined face. Her bright blue eyes glittered in the light.
"Agatha, tell me what is wrong with this child."
The other lady glanced away from her screen and frowned. "He's a cat, mistress. In fact, the last time he was here he nearly caught your canary, knocked over your good punch bowl in the process, and yet you let him sleep on your lap."
I blushed. "Busted. I am sorry about the crystal, Mistress Hildegard. The bird was teasing me."
"He has a habit of doing that to cats," Mistress Hildegard said as her frown deepened. "You are a cat?"
"I was born human."
"I see, but now you are feline?"
I nodded again not seeing any point in lying about it for Mom. "I was Melanie's first child. From what I have been told she was so upset about having a son instead of a daughter she brought me home from the hospital and literally ignored me for days at a time. I would have starved to death but Midnight, our familiar brought in a female cat that has lost her kittens and she gave me milk. I don't remember what happened, but Midnight said I had lost so much weight and had shriveled in size so much it was easy for me to nurse, and easier still to turn me to kitten.
"He sealed my eyes, and I grew up as a cat. Mom didn't care until Elise was born two years later. Finally, she had a daughter to share her power, and for the first time, she remembered she had a son. When Elise turned two and Mom was sure she had the talent for magic she took me from Midnight and forced me back into human shape.
"I was four years old, then, and I had no idea I was human or even how to behave as one. I did learn, sort of, but it hasn't been pleasant. She lets me turn back into a cat sometimes, but I have to be Elise's subject, you know -- chosen male. Then I'll be a cat again forever, at last, and the next time I come over here I will get that stupid bird. Do you have any cream?" I asked licking my lips.
"Agatha, how hard would it be for Elise to turn this child into a cat?"
"About as hard as saying, 'Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.'"
My ears pricked up. "Yes?"
"How old are you, Paul. You said you were two years older than Elise?"
"Yes, I'm fourteen."
"Yet, you look no older than ten."
Agatha shook here head. "Melanie placed an age blocking spell on him. A transformation spell is more effective on younger children."
Mistress Hildegard nodded. "It would seem that Melanie stacked the deck in Elise's favor with this one. Disqualified. I'll have Beverly take this one to the kitchen for a dish of cream..."
"Yes," I said.
"But only if you promise to leave the birds alone."
Someone knocked on the door. A moment later Beverly opened the door for Mom and Elise.
"They were looking for Paul," Beverly said quickly.
"There you are," Mom said. "I'm sure he didn't mean to bother you, Miss Hildegard."
I'm sure Mistress Hildegard read the anxious look on Mom's face as easily as I could. "Melanie, did you think you could hide your magic from us? Beverly, would you take Paul to the kitchen for a dish of real cream? I need to speak privately with his mother."
I shrank out of my clothes and waved my tail in the air as I followed the girl away from the office.
"Melanie, what you tried with your cat is all but cheating. Elise will have the same opportunity to prove herself as everyone else, but not with Paul. Take the cat home and let him stay a cat since that is what he wants. Understood?"
"Yes, mistress," I heard Mom's voice sound subdued for once.
As soon as we returned home, Mom snapped her fingers and I turned back to human. She handed me the bundle of my clothes. "I am not finished with you at all, young man. Put these away and wait for me in your room."
I hugged the clothes to my chest. "Mom, I didn't say anything. Not one word. That lady Agatha knew I was a cat, and she even knew which cat I was. She remembered the punch bowl from last time."
"But did you have to tell Hildegard the entire story?"
"She asked me, and I was afraid she'd turn me to bird food if I lied. Oh, and thanks for that age spell. I really wanted to be ten forever."
"Are you going to let him talk to you like that, Mom?" Elise gave me a triumphant grin.
"No, I'm not. Bad cat -- bad, bad cat."
I stared at her. Elise let out a giggle.
"I know I've never been a mother to you Paul. That was that gray tabby of Midnight's. I haven't given you anything at all for fourteen years, and I only thought of you as a means for Elise to enter the coven. I won't apologize to you - you're much too much a cat for that. But I will give you this. You have been promised to Midnight since the day I took you back ten years ago. You will be a kitten again, and just that. You will not remember any of this time you spent as a human, and you will live out the rest of your life as a cat."
"Thanks, Mom," I said trying not to cry. For the first time I hugged her.
"Go on, wait for us upstairs."
I ran up the stairs, dumped the clothes in the laundry bin, and I almost waltzed into my room.
I have no idea what took so long, but the next thing I knew woke up on the bed trying to move my hands and feet. Moonlight filled the window, and I could see that my wrists and ankles had been tied to the bed. I tugged again.
Elise carried a silver tray into the room and placed it on my dresser. She wore a gauzy scarf around her neck that hung down to her navel and nothing else. At twelve there wasn't anything to see in my sister's development. I never minded her seeing me naked, but this made me uneasy.
"I know, you're playing 'Sabrina' and I get to be the cat. That girl on TV wouldn't wear just that. Don't you have any sense of shame?"
"You are so cute." She took a long silver dagger and made passes with the blade over a bowl of water on the tray. I could see the white light of power filling the bowl and spilling over the sides. She finished a chant, dipped the knife into the bowl and walked over to the bed. She started chanting again and let three drops of the charged water fall on me - one on each nipple and the third on my genitals.
I felt a tingle and watched as best as I could move my head as my nipples grew much larger, and I felt a sudden pain in my groin.
"Now who is the dumb old girl," she said with a note of triumph.
I laughed. "You really don't get it, do you. Humans are the only ones that make a big deal whether you're a boy or a girl. It doesn't mean anything to cats at all. I'll grow up to have Midnight's kittens? So what?"
"Oh, you smug little bastard," she said. I could see the dagger shaking with her fury.
"You're too young to know such horrible language. I'll tell Mom what you said if you don't hurry up and get on with this. Just think, tomorrow it will be your job to clean my litter box and to feed me and take care of me, and I'll sleep on your legs every night...."
Elise screamed. "Shut up. Just shut up."
"What on earth is going on here?" Mom asked from the hallway. "By the Moon and all her sisters what did you do? These spells aren't something to be played with. All you had to do was turn him into a cat - not a girl." She stared down at me. "You would have been such a pretty girl, too. What a pity you had to be born a boy. You have the brains and no talent and she has the talent and no brains. Elise, you go and get ready for the next round. You will turn Paul into a kitten and let me know the minute it is done."
"Yes, mother," Elise said and stormed out of the room.
I took my smaller wrists out of the ropes and sat up. I tried not to look at my new body contours.
"This was her idea," Mom said with another shake of her head. "What a horrible waste." She left the room.
Elise came back five minutes later, and started a different chant.
"Think Balinese or Siamese if you like. Something elegant."
When the white glow from the water was ready Elise brought the bowl over to me. This time she splashed water on my face then chest. She shouted a last word of power, then laughed as I started to change.
Something was wrong. I watched my hands change but they weren't cat's paws. Black fur changed to orange as it covered my arms. "Can't you get anything right?"
Elise laughed again. "This time I did, I really did. You're not going to stay here and lord it over me - oh no. You're a fox, Paul. That's f-o-x. A vixen and they need one at the downtown zoo.
My muzzle grew in long and pointed. I tried to say anything but all that came out were loud and sharp yips. I barked my head off after that as I bounced around the bed in an unfamiliar body.
Elise gave me a smug little smile and left the room. As soon as she did I felt another's presence. I spun around using my nose but saw nothing until she spoke.
"This change is unacceptable."
I saw her, then, or her outline; the transparent figure of a lady dressed in long green robes. Her expression looked serene as she looked down at me, and stroked my head.
"So, master cat, now you are a fox, and a vixen at that," she said, gently.
I found my voice again, but the words still sounded like growls. "Can't you turn me back into a cat?"
"Not without killing you. This spell was improperly cast. Your body needs a chance to settle into this shape and heal from the magic. There is much you could learn from the fox."
I stared up at the radiance from her face, and nodded my head.
"What? No snappy retort for me? Perhaps, you are learning even now. You're sister will pay the price for this, and soon, but you are a fox for the time being."
"For how long?"
"For a year. Give yourself time, and if you can resist getting pregnant as a vixen, I will be able to change you again if you wish it."
"I will." I said as a promise to both of us.
The lady faded out as Mom and Elise returned. Mom screamed. "What did you do?" She turned and slapped Elise across the face. "I told you this was nothing to play with. How dare you?"
"But Mom, he was being so insufferable I had to do something."
"He's a cat, and all cats are insufferable. All you had to do was turn him into a kitten and that would be the end of it. Now what do we do with a fox? Midnight.... You stupid little fool. I told you he was promised to Midnight. You broke the bond."
"Get real, mother. So I broke a promise to a cat. I couldn't let Paul get away with this."
"What is the definition of a familiar?"
Elise sighed, and started to repeat the words. "'A familiar is a demon or other spirit bound into the shape of an animal or bird to help its chosen witch work magic.'"
"You broke a bond to a demon, girl. Can't you think these things through?"
"By the Shadow and the Light," Midnight said popping onto the bed. "What did you do to my kitten?"
"You know how Paul and Elise have been at each other lately. She was trying to teach Paul a lesson for being so annoying. This may not be as bad as it looks. Elise, what did the Lady say when you cast this spell?"
"What lady?"
"The Green Lady, of course, the guardian of.... You did ask the Lady's permission to change your brother into a fox, didn't you?"
"What lady? I just found the spell and read the words. It didn't say anything about a Lady."
Mom shuddered. "How many times do I have to tell you that magic is not something that can be played with. You have to understand the spell that you are casting."
"I know what the Lady said. She said I had to stay a fox for a year, and if I don't get pregnant she can change me back. She said the spell was so poorly cast that she couldn't fix it without killing me." I glared at Elise.
"No," Midnight yowled out. "He was promised to me, Melanie. Even a female cat would have been better than this. She broke the bond, witch and she will have to pay."
"What are you talking about? I don't have any money."
Midnight spat at her. "You took away my son. I would have you take his place but you do not have the intelligence to be a cat."
"Or a witch," Mom said slowly, shaking her head. "You will have no initiation now, or any power ever again."
"Your life is mine to dispose of now, girl. I haven't decided what I will do with it, but I'm sure Mistress Hildegard wouldn't mind another canary for her collection."
"You can't be serious. I'm sorry I didn't read that spell closer, Mom, but I was just so mad."
"That is why you will never make it as a witch. That's the problem. I made everything too easy for you. I never gave you any reason to learn how to think. I wanted you to succeed so much that I never let you fail. Now you did, in a big way, and I'm stuck without a son or a daughter for the next year.
"When the Lady returns you to human shape next year, Paula, you will have this one as a subject. You, at least, will have the intelligence to be a witch."
I shook my whole body. "I'm to be a cat, Mom, you promised and so did the Lady. I may be female right now, but I'll never be a witch."
"You will do as your told, Paula, and this is final. For the next year you will be an exhibit at the Downtown Zoo. Maybe that will be enough to change your mind about your future." She pushed Elise out of the room.
"I'll visit you," Midnight said, and turned away. I could swear he was crying.
Although I didn't sleep much that night, by the next morning I did feel comfortable with the fox shape. Foxes were quick, and they could jump, but not nearly as well as a cat. No male fox would ever get close to me.
Midnight walked into the room through the door for a change. My nose told me instantly he had a mouse with him.
"Breakfast?" I asked as I jumped down from the bed.
He dropped the mouse on the floor but held it fast with one paw. "Your sister. I wanted her to start her new life right away. I'll let her turn back to human for school, but the rest of the time I'll play with her - that is if I don't forget and eat her."
The mouse squeaked out several times.
"Oh, Elise, you are so cute, and not even litter box trained. Do you have to do that on my carpet? I may need it again. We'll since I'm not having mouse for breakfast, this time, I'd better find Mom. Play nicely, you two."
That was odd, I almost felt sorry for Elise - just hunger, I thought. Then I blurted out. "I’m sorry, Elise, I didn’t mean to be so rude."
"Paul, what are you doing?" Midnight demanded.
"For once, I didn’t want to be a smug bastard."
I trotted downstairs to find a bowl of dog food set out on the kitchen floor. As far as my new nose was concerned it smelled delightful. I gulped down the meat and licked the bowl clean. Although foxes have a much better sense of smell than cats, and the vision is about the same, their sense of taste is no where near as sharp.
Mom walked into the kitchen, and gave me a sad smile. "The men from the zoo will be here shortly, and I expect no arguments from you. I suppose Midnight told you what he did to Elise?"
"Yes," I said with a shrug trying to sound neutral. "You look different," I added staring at her face and hair. For the first time in ages she wore her hair, blonde as straw, down over her shoulders. "You look younger, too."
"Since I won't have kids to worry about for a while, I might as well enjoy myself."
I curled up in the living room still not sure what to do with the piece of shag carpeting attached to my rear. It was easy enough to wag, and it tended to stick straight out when I ran, but I couldn't curl up with it.
The technician from the zoo turned up at noon. He came equipped with a large cage and a long pole with a noose on one end.
"That won't be necessary," Mom said quickly. "She seems very friendly."
The man stared at me, curled up by Mom's feet. I pulled my lips back in a grin. "Where did you find her?"
"We didn't. She found us. My daughter left the door open last night for a moment and in walks a vixen, bold as all get out, and looking for food. Someone must have raised her as a pet, and I don't know if she just got out, or they let her go. But what are we going to do with a fox of all things."
I stood up, stretched and walked over to sniff the tech's hand. "Hello? I'm Paul." No response. I was afraid of that. Humans wouldn't understand my speech, and I would have no one to talk to for the next year.
In spite of the myriad of animal smells in the cage, I scratched the door open, walked inside, and settled back down.
This time, the man stared at me with his mouth open. "Well. I'll be. I never dreamed it would be this easy. Ready to go, girl? I guess you are. Would you sign this - uh - Mrs.?"
"Jones, Melanie Jones, and it's Miss - now."
"Yes, Miss Jones," he said and I could smell his interest in Mom.
"This is it for the year," I said. "Later, Mom."
The tech laughed. "You'd thing she was trying to talk. Come on, sweetheart, everyone at the zoo is waiting to meet you." He picked up the cage and carried me out to a large pickup truck with the zoo's logo on the door. He settled the cage on the front seat, and that was that.
This was not the way I hoped my life would go. The thought of being an exhibit for the next year did not thrill me, but then it sounded better right then than another year as a partial human.
I slept for the ride into town, but as the truck came to a stop at a red light I glanced around and sniffed frantically to find the source of a tantalizing scent. Of course, I spotted the sign and started whining then barking to get the tech's attention.
"What's the matter?" he asked as I made more and more noise.
I waved my right forepaw until he spotted the sign.
"'Kentucky Fried Chicken'?" He laughed and shook his head. "You're hungry?" This time I whined and spun around in the cage. "Miss Jones probably didn't know what to feed you. Okay." He turned on his signal, and prepared to go through the drive through.
"A bucket, please," he told the girl at the window. "My friend here is starving. I'll have a large Coke and she'll have water."
The girl stared at me from the window and laughed. "Oh, that's priceless. No one has ever brought a fox to this hen house before." She laughed again then called out, "Hey, does anyone have a camera? The guy in window one has a fox who wants our chicken."
I heard several shouts of "You're kidding," before more faces appeared at the window.
"Look's like you get the seal of approval from a true expert," the tech said. "She's on her way to the zoo, but fussed so much as we drove by I had to pull in."
When the chicken came, the tech started to drive off until I waved to an empty picnic table. He got the idea, parked and set up for an early lunch. I opened the door of my cage and stood on top of the table without a single thought of running away.
"They don't get much smarter than you, do they, girl," he said as he handed me a piece of chicken and gave me a water dish.
I went for my second piece by shoving my head in the bucket and grabbing. I backed out with a leg in my mouth and I heard the click of a shutter. I looked around at the photographer, grinned with my mouth full, and settled down to eat. He took several more pictures.
"Oh, she's so cute. Can I pet her?" I looked up to see several kids standing by the table.
"No, and please stand back. You don't want to scare her. The little lady here is our newest exhibit at the zoo. You can see her there, but even though she's truly smarter than the average fox she can bite and bite hard." I opened my mouth to display my teeth. The kids took a step back as several more joined the crowd.
"As you can see foxes usually eat mice...." I grimaced and stuck out my tongue. The kids laughed as the tech went on. "But all foxes love chicken...." This time I nodded and pointed at the picture of the Colonel on the side of the bucket. Everyone applauded. "Although not all foxes insist on Kentucky Fried Chicken like this one."
By the time we reached the zoo the tech, whose name was John, talked to me like I was an old friend. He pulled into the lot behind the medical facility, and rushed me inside.
"Doc? Doctor Conley? I've got a real winner here."
The vet, a much younger man than I expected, walked over to the cage. "She is gorgeous, John."
"But that's not the half of it Doc. Watch this. Girl, come out of the cage and say hello to Doctor Conley." I opened the cage door, walked over the to man and stuck out my right paw.
"Hi, Doc, glad to meet you. I haven't had any shots so lets get it over with, okay?" I said in a low growl.
"John, that was incredible. She figured out the lock by herself, and I never dreamed you were a ventriloquist."
"What do you mean?"
"That line about the shots was a good one. Okay, young lady, I'll make it quick."
"You heard me?" I asked, shocked. "That's great. I need a flea collar, too." I sat down and scratched my ear.
"No collars here, I'm afraid, but I'll get the powder after I give you an exam." I let him pet my head. "She really does seem tame enough."
"Yeah, you should have seen her with the kids at K F C. She was a real hit. The lady that found her thought she was someone's pet, and I believe it. I'd swear she understood everything we say."
"I'm sure. Okay, John, I'll take it from here, but I'll call you if I need you. Thanks."
"Bye," I said after the tech. "I really like him. He can't understand me like you can, but I was able to get through. I was starved and he took me to see the Colonel. My name's Paul, by the way, or Paula now."
"Paula?" he managed to say. He turned pale, and felt around my neck for a collar or transmitter.
"Nope, it's really me, Dr. Conley." I flashed him a wide grin. "You've never met a talking fox before?"
"No, and this has to be some sort of trick."
"Yes, it is. Until yesterday I was supposed to be a cat, but my sister botched the spell and here I am. I have to be a fox for the next year."
"And what will be after that?"
"I don't know. If I get pregnant during this year I stay a fox. I want to go back to being a cat, but Mom wants me to be human again. It's a long story."
"I'll bet. We have time."
I stood up on my hind legs, rested my forepaws on the man's chest and pulled a pen from his pocket. I ran over to an open notebook, flipped the pages until I found a blank, then I wrote my name. It was difficult holding the pen in my mouth and harder moving my head to form the letters, but I did it.
"See?" I asked. "A transmitter could make it sound like I was talking, and there might even be a visual if you held up a page for me to read, but how many foxes can be taught that?"
"I see. But I don't understand."
"I was born human. I'm fourteen and until last night I was a boy named Paul. My mother and sister are witches in the local coven - just keep looking at that page when you don't believe me...." I told him the rest of my story.
"That's about it," I said at the end. "I'm here now because Mom doesn't want a fox in the house, but she does want me to be a witch when the lady changes me back next year."
Dr. Conley shook his head as he checked my temperature. "You want me to believe all this? Every test tells me you're a normal fox."
"Yes, I do want you to believe me," I said, surprised. "Yesterday I wouldn't have cared, but.... But how else can you explain a fox that can read and write?"
"I want to, but you grew up with the magic, Paul -- or do you prefer Paula now?"
I shook my head. "Better make it Paula."
"But for me to believe that there are real live witches that can cast spells and turn people into cats or foxes is hard. What is it like?"
"For me the change to human was a demotion. I grew up as a cat, and cats are the true lords of the universe. I never did get used to walking on two feet, or wearing clothes, and I never stopped using a litter box, which reminds me. I need one, and that flea powder."
Dr. Conley put me down on the floor and pointed out the paper as the phone rang. "Hello? Speaking…. Yes, I am and I have the fox here. Her name is Paula, and I’m not sure that’s such a good idea right now. Hold on, and I’ll ask her…. It’s the people from Kentucky Fried Chicken. "They want you back on for a promotion. You were a hit."
"Do I get free chicken?"
"Yes, and quite a bit of money for the zoo…. She wanted to know if she gets chicken out of the deal. Yes, I do talk to my animals all the time…. No, she isn’t on display yet. We just got her in. Since she seems willing…." I nodded my head and tried not to drool. "I’ll have to talk to the zoo administrators and they can work out a schedule. Thanks and I’ll tell her that. You would be surprised as to what animals do understand, especially this one." He hung up. "Everyone loved you and word is getting around.
"I would just love to see the expression on those people’s faces if I…. Or get this," he said with a laugh. "Picture me in front a convention of vets and I introduce you as the world’s smartest fox. I’d ask you to do a few simple tricks, then I’d ask you to add two plus two. You’d pound out four with your paw. Then I’d ask you to subtract 16 from 31. You’d shake your head and write out the problem on a blackboard. They’d go crazy over that."
"Yeah, we’d both be famous," I said with a loud bark. "When can we start?"
"It’s something to think about. We’d have to be careful. Most scientists have a tendency to take apart things they don’t understand, and they would want to dissect your brain — in the name of science, or course.
"Let’s just leave it at entertaining the kids at K F C for the moment."
"Right," I said as he picked me up and carried me over to the sink for the flea powder. "Now about my cage. I don’t mind having all those people watch me, but is there anyway I could get a radio or mini-TV for my den?"
"Don’t worry, you can use the set at home. In good conscience I can’t just stick you out with the other fox. I’m sure he’d love it, but we don’t have a separate cage for you. Would you like to meet him?"
"Sure, but I’m going home with you? That’s the best news I’ve had for a while. I make a great pet, doc, and we can work on our act."
Someone knocked on the door. Another technician stuck his head inside. "Dr. Conley? There are a bunch of people here to see you. Mostly moms and kids but they’re asking about the new fox."
"The price of fame, I suppose," Dr. Conley said quickly. "Have them meet me at the lecture hall in a few minutes."
"I don’t want a lot of babies hitting me and tugging my tail, doc. I won’t bite, or I won’t break the skin at least, but…."
"I won’t let them near you except one at a time. Okay? And if we meet them in the lecture hall there will be a feeling of distance between us and them. Come along, I’ll give you the grand tour along the way."
The stares we collected on the way were priceless. Dr. Conley made no effort to hide his conversation with me as we passed the zoo’s cafeteria and quarantine facility.
"It’s okay," he said at one point. "I always talk to the animals here."
The lecture hall sounded full as we entered through the back way. Dr. Conley motioned for me to stay put before he walked out into the hall. "Good afternoon," he said approaching the podium. "I am Dr. Justin Conley. I am the chief Vet for the Downtown zoo, and I believe you are here about our latest addition?"
"We want to see the fox," I heard several kids say,
"Of course, our new fox is a female, named Paula, but since she just came in today, we have to do a lot of tests and keep her quarantined to make sure that she will not infect any of our other animals with something.…"
I strolled out on stage and sat down at Dr. Conley’s feet. He stared down at me. "I thought I told you to stay in the lab for tests."
I shook my head.
"You followed me all the way here?"
This time I nodded my head and gave the audience a wide grin.
"You came to say hello to the boys and girls?"
I shook my head harder and most of the kids laughed.
"As you can see, foxes are very clever animals but they never listen and they never do what they are told. In the wild foxes hunt mice…." Once again I stuck out my tongue and made a face. "I know you prefer your chicken fried but most foxes don’t have fast food restaurants. They use their wits and not the zoo’s money." I opened my mouth and barked. "Okay, that’s using your wits, too.
"Foxes have very sharp noses…." I patted my nose with a paw. "Yes, and it is large enough for everyone to see." By this time the entire hall was cracking up. "And their ears are almost as sharp." I turned my head and waggled my ears. "That’s excellent, Paula, now can you whistle ‘Dixie’?"
I tried to pucker my lips and blow, but shook my head.
That did it. We were a hit. I let one child at a time come up and pat me. The odd thing was that I liked being petted. In fact, I wanted more of it.
Over the next few weeks as we gave lectures at the zoo, and K F C, our audience grew. I saw my picture several times in the local papers. I settled into Dr. Conley’s house, and thought he must have had a reputation for being a little wacko — at least none of his neighbors thought anything of seeing the vet walking a fox.
Although he offered to let me use a bed at night, I found it much more comfortable to sleep in a basket or on the sofa for late night TV. Until the night Midnight came to visit, that is.
"What are you doing here?"
The cat appeared after his voice. I jumped down from the sofa to give him a good licking. He refused. "I live here now."
"So I gathered. Your mother wanted you to be a fox in the zoo and not some celebrity pet."
"You really want me to sleep in a cage with a male fox?"
"No, but you could keep a low profile. Every witch in town knows who you are."
I shrugged, and gave him a wide grin. "What are they going to do? Spill the beans?"
"No."
"Can Mistress Hildegard break this spell before the year is up?"
"No," Midnight said with a slow shake of his head.
"Then tell Mom I’m going to get by the best as I can as a fox, and she has nothing to say about it. I’m even doing the network news tomorrow — Fox, of course."
"Your mother will not like that at all. Just a warning."
"She’d cast a spell at me against the Lady’s wishes? Tell Mom that there is no way I am ever going back to her. I like being a fox, even more than being a cat. After all, I’m a star. And I will get real cozy with the other fox. I won’t live with him, but I’ll have a litter of kits in a heartbeat rather than going back to Mom. That isn’t a threat."
"You have changed, Paul, a lot. I’m not sure if I like it, but I’ll pass the word back."
"Thanks, and Dr. Conley is putting a doggy door in the kitchen if you want to go hunting again."
He flicked his tail in a sign I thought meant he wouldn’t be back.
"How is Elise?"
"You really care about her? I let her go. She’s a full time mouse now, in her own little cage with a wheel and everything. See you." With that, he was gone.
I woke up again to the glimmer of magic light in the living room. It was still dark, probably around two in the morning. I yawned and waited until my mother took shape in the light.
"How dare you threaten me, young lady. You would rather have a litter of kits than come home. You’re asking for it this time."
"Mom, please, you’ll wake Doc Conley. It’s his house you’re invading this morning."
"How do you think I feel seeing you on the TV as some sort of performing animal. All my friends have called about it. They think you’re cute, but I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. You think you can get away with this?"
"Mom, it’s not your fault I’m a fox, or mine either, but I’m not going to sit around in a cage for the next year playing stupid. I’m having a great time. Kids love me. K F C loves me and for the first time in ages I like me, too. I’m making a mint for the zoo, and I get all the fried chicken I can eat."
"And you think this is more important than my feelings?"
I nodded and licked my lips. "Chicken is more important than anything now, Mom, and besides. You’ve never cared one little bit about my feelings, or me in general. You never really cared one bit about Elise either. All you do care about is impressing your coven."
"May I ask what is going on out here?" Dr. Conley stood in his bedroom doorway wearing a bathrobe. "Hello, may I help you?"
"Doc, this is my Mom — Melanie. Mom, this is Dr. Conley, the chief vet at the zoo and my agent."
"So, you are the one that is doing this to my daughter. When I gave her over to the zoo I never expected her to be exploited like this."
"Mrs. Jones, is it? I understand the unique situation Paula is in for the next year, but this has been her idea."
"Perhaps you would like to join her as a talking weasel?"
"Mrs. Jones, you are the one that came barging into my house this late at night to fight with my fox after all. I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to be an animal, but…."
Mom started chanting. I felt the power gather around her until silver light sparkled at her fingertips. I jumped off the sofa and bit her right on the leg, She screamed and kicked, but the spell broke apart.
"You little brat. How dare you? So, you want to be a real fox? Find out what it’s like without any human memories or intelligence." She pointed at me, and spoke a single word of power. I shuddered as the spell washed over me.
"Paula?" Dr. Conley asked. I barked a couple of times although I did manage to turn my head and wink at him.
"As for you, Dr. Conley…." Mom started to say, then gasped as red fur grew in on her hands.
"Mom?" I sniffed. "Looks like I’m not the only vixen here. Mom?"
"Melanie," I heard the Lady’s voice from far away. "Have you forgotten that this child is under my protection? Have you forgotten the rules of magic. It’s not something you play with and spells are never to be cast when you are angry or emotionally stressed You told that to Elise often enough.
"Now," she said and appeared in the room. "I will give you the same choice as I gave Paula. You will be a real fox, with no human intelligence or memories, but if you can go the year without mating as a fox, I will turn you back to yourself."
Mom said nothing as her change progressed. She made a beautiful vixen, but the moment her change finished she panicked at the human scent and ran to find a place to hide. She would not tolerate my presence. To her, I was a rival, and even though I was in the proper shape, I couldn’t speak fox.
"I’ll call John in the morning," Dr. Conley said. She will make a good exhibit for the zoo."
The next morning I woke up feeling much better. I barked at finding a young and very male fox curled up on the sofa with me.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he said. "I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of moving right in."
"Midnight?"
"Who else? You were promised to me after all, and I intend to collect one way or another. I'm no one's familiar now, and it’s not too late, kid. We always did make a great team, and now…. I know the perfect woods to dig a den and raise a family."
"Are you out of your mind? You think I’m going to sleep in a hole in the ground and raise my kits out in the woods? And give up show business? Not a chance, buster. We’d better get this straight right now. I’ll go hunting with you, but if you want to live like some sort of animal find yourself another vixen."
"Girls," he said. "I’ll never ever figure you out."
"No, you won’t and don’t forget it." I curled back up on the sofa and closed my eyes. I would be a fox for the rest of my life now, but I was satisfied that I had made the right choice.
This is a kind of sequel to "The Lady's Choice"
Summer Vacations rarely go as planned
Summer Changes
Andy Hollis
"This really stinks," I said as I jumped off the last step of the bus. "I haven't seen my dad in four years so why does he have to mess up my whole summer vacation now?"
There were no other passengers on the bus, only the driver and he made no answer to my ranting. He opened the luggage compartment and pulled out my suitcase. "There you are, son. Are you sure I can't drop you down the road? There's a restaurant a few miles down with a phone."
"No," I said and held out a paper. "Dad said he'd meet me here, and this is here, right?"
He checked the paper again and nodded his head. "This is it," he said glancing around the bus stop. Look, kid, if you're still here when I head back I'm picking you up, okay?'
"Deal. He was supposed to be here by now. This really stinks."
The bus pulled off with a cloud of exhaust that left me coughing in the parking lot. I dragged my suitcase over to the covered kiosk and plopped myself down on the bench to wait. From my spot I could see about a hundred yards of Route 28 as it wound its way through the Adirondack Mountains. The road passed sharply cut granite walls and whole forests of pine, maple and birch trees. The woods were filled with deer, raccoons, foxes and the occasional bear. I listened to the variety of birdcalls as the bus pulled away and wondered if I could ever identify them all.
Dad chose a bus stop in the middle of a mountain. Someone had placed a covered bench in the parking lot of a hiking path. I could see maybe fifty yards either way on the road before it twisted away on the mountain. After that were the woods -- nothing but woods, birds and mosquitoes. Hundreds of mosquitoes as big as robins and flies. I hardly noticed the little black flies until they bit me. I slapped my arm and dug in my suitcase for more bug repellent.
After bathing in the Off, I sat down to wait. Mom had packed a book on the history of the Adirondacks that Dad had sent and several books on my summer reading list, but she had grabbed my stash of comics. I took out Dad's book and started to read. By the time I finished the book I was getting worried.
Two hours, I thought and checked my watch again. Dad had a lot of problems, even Mom gave him that, but he wouldn't do this to me. Pacing, I pulled out my last candy bar, ate half and re-wrapped the rest.
I stretched out on the bench, and I must have dozed off. When I woke up the sky was getting dark. Rubbing my eyes and shaking my head, I wandered into the woods to take care of another matter. I couldn't believe that dad would do this to me. His instructions were clear enough in his letter, but where was he?
Not having anything else to do, I picked up the book and flipped back through it. On the last page I read:
"Tales are still told of travelers in the remote reaches of the Adirondacks that have called on the Spirits of Power in times of need or emergency. These spirits, as legends have it, can grant aid and or wishes to those in need of help."
That was crazy, I thought with my cheeks burning. There weren't any spirits of power and yet I wanted to try the chant in the book to call them. This had to be the remotest reach of the mountains and I hadn't seen or heard a car in hours.
After I cleared my throat, stood up and I read out: "Spirits of the Powers I summon thee. I am a traveler in need..."
A large ball of glowing blue light appeared about an inch from my nose. "We, the spirits of power have acquiesced to your summons. How do you wish us to proceed?"
"What?"
The ball spun around as the light changed from dark blue to silver to green. "He means, my man, you rang?'
Voices from all over the globe began to chatter. "What's up Doc?"
"Hey, dude, what's happening?"
"Greetings and salutations."
"What are you guys?" I asked in a squeak.
"We are the spirits of power. You called us -- we heard you too -- and out of the goodness of our hearts we came to give you aid and
succor in your hour of need. So, boyo, here we are. What can we do for you?"
"I've been sitting here in the wilderness for hours and hours. My dad was supposed to pick me up at eleven this morning. He may be
hurt..." I glanced around and back into the woods. "Dad? Okay, Dad the joke's over. You can come out now."
The ball spun again. "Subject Harold R. Adamson, father of David M. Adamson is -- otherwise occupied. He is not on his way here."
"I'll kill him. Mom will kill him. He just left me out here without anything to eat or drink? Can you take me to his place?"
"Subject action telekinesis is beyond the range of our powers..."
"What?" I asked.
"He means, sorry, no can do. We are spirits and not a taxicab. You are twelve years old, in good health and weigh approximately ninety pounds. You have two legs so use them."
"But I don't know where my dad lives," I countered. "Can you get me something to eat with all that aid and stuff you promised?"
"That is on the way, boyo. Food and drink and more. Is there anything else you wish?"
"I wish I was a famous TV star with a cell phone and a limo waiting."
The ball spun around. "Subject action is impossible until account is paid in full."
I sighed. "This is really stupid. How many spirits are in there? Can't you just begin in English?"
"Well, golly gee whiz, Batman, we're doing the best we can. There are over a hundred spirits residing in this entity now addressing you. The spirit that knows the answer first gives the answer, and we work out the meaning later. Okay, kid? We have like -- power, dig? And we have -- like rules..."
"Very funny Mr. Spirit of Power, sir. What are you, really?" I reached out and touched the ball only to get a nasty electric shock. I shook my hand, and I heard hundreds of voices inside my head. I started to back away. This wasn't one of Dad's jokes.
The ball floated around me. "Not much to look at, but that will change. Okay. Your account is maxed out. Until you make a payment we can't grant any more wishes."
"But you've never granted me a wish so how can I have an account?"
"Opened by you or someone authorized to use your name." A beam of yellow light shot from the ball and touched me on the chest. It moved up to my forehead, and I felt something warm. My whole body trembled with the light. "Account is now paid down by sixty percent. Balance due in five years."
"See you later, dude."
"We're out of here." With that the ball vanished.
"But what happened?" I shouted after the ball. No answer. I picked up the book, shoved it into my suitcase, and sat down.
A street light blinked on over the kiosk. I hadn't even noticed the lamp was there. Crickets started singing, and a saw hundreds of moths fly for the lamp. This day was getting better and better. The bus driver said there was a restaurant down the road a few miles, but then the driver had promised to come back. I tried scratching my back on the bench and froze as a dog stepped out of the woods into the light.
"Nice doggy?" I said. The closer it got the larger it looked. It had to be a Husky or Shepherd mix of some sort... Or wolf, I thought as it walked closer to the bench. No, wolves didn't live in the Adirondacks. In Canada, maybe, or in Russia, but there were no wolves in New York. Yet there it was and I wasn't about to go through the guidebook again to check that out.
The animal growled low in its throat as it walked up to me. I backed away on the bench as far as I could get, but this monster was the same size as a pony. There was no where to go to get away from it. Her, I thought, when I noticed the swollen teats on the wolf's belly. She must have just had a litter, but I hadn't seen any puppies around.
She growled again as she pressed her nose into my chest. I could hear her sniffing at me. Her breath was rather unpleasant, but not as bad as I expected. I screamed as she opened her massive jaws and brought her fangs inches away from my face. I screamed again until she licked my nose. I sputtered and laughed with relief as she washed my face. I tried to push her away, but that was impossible.
Using her nose and a forepaw the wolf pushed me down on the bench until I lay flat out on my back. She kept licking my face pressing into my chest with her paw. I tired to move the paw, but she growled and pressed down on my stomach.
"Hey, what's that for..." I started to say.
As I opened my mouth again, the wolf threw up. I half swallowed and half gagged on the mess trying to catch my breath. She growled again, pressed harder on my stomach and repeated the process. It dawned on me that she was feeding me -- like a cub, and she wasn't taking no for an answer. I was hungry, but not that hungry, and yet I opened my mouth and ate anyway. Half of me wanted to throw up and the rest of me wanted to eat. This was crazy. I tried to struggle but just couldn't her fend off.
When she finished feeding me from her stomach, she lay down on her side and offered to let me nurse. When I didn't follow her down right away she grabbed my jeans with her teeth and pulled. I settled in next to her and drank. I didn't know why I nursed like that, but it felt natural as if I had been doing that for my entire life. At least it washed the taste of my last "meal" out of my mouth.
With my stomach full, I drifted off to sleep still cuddled against the wolf. I stirred once when she licked my face again. I woke again with the roar of an approaching car. The wolf had left me alone. I checked around the area to make sure, then ran out to the side of the road. I was going to flag that car down and get a ride -- anywhere.
I saw the headlights coming around the curve to my left. The car swerved toward me; just missed the bus stop and crashed into a tree. I ran over to the car.
The driver's window was open, and I found my dad slumped against the steering wheel. My nose wrinkled at the reek of beer and sweat and my mouth started to hurt.
"Dad?" I shook his shoulder a couple of times. "Dad?"
He blinked at me. "Davey? You're here." He opened his door and stumbled out of the car. "You've grown a bit since the divorce. And what is this?" he asked pulling at my hair. "Trying to look like a girl?"
"Lay off, Dad. Where have you been for the last twelve hours? You left me out here without anything to eat or drink, and then you drive in here drunk?"
"Told you to be here at eleven..."
"A.M., Dad. You said eleven A.M. Just wait until I tell Mom about this."
He belched. "Oops. Looks like I goofed again. Oh, well, get your stuff and I'll get the car backed up.
I put my suitcase in the trunk and climbed into the front seat. "There's a restaurant down the road. I could really use a hamburger or three." I licked my lips at the thought.
"Too late for that, Davey. I need to get some more beer..." He paused and frowned at me. "Open your mouth... Look at those teeth. You need to see a dentist and of course your mother left that to me."
In spite of the huge dent in the car's hood and grill, Dad backed up and skidded back onto the road. He tore around the curves until I was sure we were both dead. I screamed at one point and braced myself against the seat.
Dad laughed at me. "What a little wimp you turned out to be. Screaming like a girl." He giggled again and burped. "Does your mom put your hair up in ribbons?"
My cheeks burned and my stomach felt sour at his insults. "I want to go home, Dad. You haven't been around for four years, and you don't have to start on me now. Call Mom, take me back to Utica and get me on the first bus home."
"Nothing doing. You're still my son, and tomorrow we are going to the barber's in Old Forge and get you a crew cut. Or would you prefer a stylist?" he asked. "After that I'm going to teach you to act like a man. I'm not going to let Helen make a sissy out of you without a fight..."
He swerved the car again, and skidded into a parking lot. "You stay here. I've got to get some beer, and I'll get you a snack."
This really stinks, I thought as I watched him stagger into the store. I saw a pay phone and made a dash for it. The operator placed the collect call. "Hi, Mom, it's me. I've got to get out of here."
"David, do you know what time it is?"
"Yes, I do, Mom. He just picked me up from the bus stop a few minutes ago. I had to wait out in the middle of nowhere for twelve hours. Then he almost ran me over because he's too drunk to see straight. He's gonna make me get a crew cut and everything. It's really bad here, Mom and I have to come home -- now."
"Sorry, Davey, but you're going to have to work things out with your dad. I'm not going to be here this summer either, and I can't change my plans now. I certainly know your father's faults, but he is your father and it's up to you to get to know him -- crew cut and everything."
"But he's trying to kill me, Mom."
"What do you expect me to do about it?" she asked and gently. "I could call the police department there, but you will probably get to his place before they can respond. Is there anyone else there that could drive?'
"We're outside a liquor store."
"Then I'll call the police there and be prepared to spend the night in a foster home."
"Never mind, Mom. There's dad. I've got to go." I hung up and ran for the car.
Dad had the nerve to stand in the parking lot to chug down a beer before he walked back to the car. I just hoped we didn't have far to go. He put a couple of six packs in the back seat before he fell into the drivers seat. "Here," he said and handed me a long biscuit. "This'll put hair on your chest," he said with another burp.
I could barely see the snack, but it smelled great. I started chewing on it, and went so far as to curl up on the seat to eat.
Adamson Lake had belonged to my family for generations. Right in the middle of the Adirondack State Park, the lake and surrounding property covered at least five square miles. The trip from the main road to the house took forever even at Dad's breakneck pace.
"There it is, the family lodge," he said as we pulled up. There was a sliver of moon out, and I could barely see the building. Talk about log cabins, the lodge was barely more than one. There was a path down to the lake, and another leading into the woods.
"Go on in while I check the generator," Dad said.
I opened the door and tumbled out of the seat. I landed on all fours and stood that way for a moment drinking in the scents from the lake and the woods before I stood up. After a long stretch I called out, "Dad? What about my stuff?"
"Get it in the morning. Go on, the door's unlocked."
The generator buzzed and hummed as Dad messed with it. I found the light switch and took a good look at my home for the summer. The cabin boasted bare, hardwood floors and walls. I saw one easy chair in the living room, with a small throw rug, and no TV or stereo. There was a door on either side of the living room for bedrooms and a kitchen, but... I checked the entire cabin.
"Where's the bathroom?" I asked as Dad stumbled into the room.
"Out back," he said with a shrug. "You bathe in the lake and use the outhouse for everything else."
I ran outside, but didn't make it to the woods. In seconds my pants were soaked through. I pulled them down and finished what I had to do.
"What is the matter with you?" Dad almost bellowed as I walked back inside carrying my pants.
"It was a long drive and I really had to go."
"Here," he said and tossed a towel at me. "Go clean up, and get to bed. Your room is that one."
The next morning I woke up feeling stiff. The mattress made of lumps didn't help either, but my arms and legs were hurting as well as my back. I rolled out of bed and walked over to the mirror. I looked horrible. My hair hung in greasy strings over my face, and I swore that my arms had grown few inches over night. With my back so stiff I had to walk hunched over.
"It's about time you got up," Dad said from the doorway. "It's time for you to join the club, the Polar Bear Club and you're certainly dressed for it." He pulled my T-shirt up over my head.
"Dad, it's okay. Just get my suitcase from the car and I'll get dressed. "What's for breakfast?"
"Club first, then I'll have to go into town to get some groceries -- unless you want beer this morning. Didn't think so." He picked me up and started for the door.
"Dad? What are you doing?"
"Going to let you join the club. After we get something to eat I'm going to take you to Mt. Marcy for a climb." He opened the door and carried me down to the lake.
"Dad, wait..." I shouted in his ear as he carried me to the end of the dock. "I can't swim. I never learned how. Don't..."
"It's about time you learned." He swung me out over the water a couple of times before he let go.
I went flying into the lake. After swallowing gulps of water, I made it to the surface. "Help! Dad!" I didn't see him on the dock, but a moment later I heard the car engine turn over. "Dad. Help. I can't swim." I paddled as hard as I could but I wasn't getting anywhere.
Finally, I stopped thrashing, cursed, and let my legs tread water for a while. "Dad?" So much for a rescue. I started swimming for shore. In spite of what I told Dad I loved the water.
Over the sound of the car engine I heard something that sounded like barking. I turned to see a wolf running along the shore of the lake.
She barked again, then jumped into the water. I stayed still as I watched the tip of her nose slice through the water toward me. This was crazy. She couldn't have followed me to the lake, but that had to be the same one.
The wolf swam up to me, and took a gentle grip on the back of my neck with her teeth. I let myself go limp as she managed to move me back toward land. The best I could manage was to keep my nose out of the water, and I didn't want to think about how she was managing. But, we made it. I could have swum the distance from the end of the dock to shore myself, but again I found I had little control over my actions.
She dragged me onto the ground. As soon as she let go I rolled over onto my hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way. A spray met me as the wolf shook herself dry. She nudged me a couple of times with her nose until I followed her example. It was easy to start shaking from my head back to my legs. Every time I started to stand up, however, she growled at me.
As I settled on standing on my hands and feet I felt a sharp crack from my hips. My back straightened out and the awful ache I had all morning eased away. I took a step shocked that I could walk on all fours. I felt my arm and leg muscles stretch. Half of me wanted to bolt for the cabin to lock the door against the wolf. Instead, the rest of me quickly followed her into the woods.
After a while, I started playing as we walked. I ran ahead and waited for her to catch up. She led me to a small clearing in the woods and she stood for a moment. For the life of me I couldn't understand why I started to bounce around her like a wolf cub. I went so far as to lick her jaws until she fed me.
This time I didn't hesitate for a moment to eat jaw to jaw. I even lapped up everything that had spilled. I followed the wolf deeper into the woods to a den she had dug into a large mount of earth. She nudged me in first, then curled up around me. The fit was tight, and I fell
asleep nursing. I woke a little while later to nurse again. The wolf -- Momwolf -- I thought naming her, bathed me from head to toes with her tongue. Bored and feeling lazy, I napped off and on for the rest of the morning.
I woke up sometime in the afternoon. Standing up on all fours in the den and found the space much larger than I remembered. I stumbled outside but as hard as I tried I couldn't stand up on my hind legs for very long. After I shook myself off, I trotted down to the lake to get a drink, but froze at the sight of my reflection.
My nose and mouth had pushed out into a very short muzzle. I opened my mouth to see fangs and lots of them. The rest of my face still looked like me, but my ears had sharp points. The water tasted the same, at least, although I had to lap it.
A werewolf? I thought watching my hands and feet change the rest of the way to paws. I'm turning into a wolf and it isn't even a full moon. This had to stop now. The car -- there across the lake I realized what sound woke me from the den. I ran through the woods following the curve of the shoreline.
Scrambling up the step to the front cabin, I nudged the door open with my nose. "Dad?" My voice sounded horse almost a bark. "Dad?" I saw him slumped over in the chair with an empty bottle of Bourbon in his hand. So much for mountain climbing this afternoon. I padded over to the chair, pulled myself up on two legs and barked right in his face.
Dad opened his eyes. "What?" He gasped as he saw me.
"Dad. It's me. I've got to get some help. I'm turning into a wolf."
"Don't be stupid. That's impossible, Davey. You did a nice job with those teeth and claws," he said moving my hands away from his chest. "But I don't buy it for a minute."
"Is there a library in town? Maybe I could find a book or something there, or what about the Spirits of Power? They were weird, but if I call them would you make a wish?"
"Just go outside and play..." He dropped the empty bottle and picked up another. Two minutes later he dropped back off to sleep with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out.
What a waste of time he was. Some fatherly concern. I had to do something but with all my clothes locked in the trunk of his car I couldn't even get dressed. I was getting hungry again, but the last thing I wanted to do was eat like a wolf. I still couldn't understand why that didn't gross me out. I looked down at myself. Last night and this morning I had been eating like a wolf and changing a lot right afterwards. The more I ate from Momwolf, the more I turned into one? Maybe if I ate like a human...
I trotted into the kitchen and started using my nose. Besides dad's beer and bottles of booze I couldn't find anything in the kitchen to eat. I pulled a chair over to the cabinets and jumped up to the counter to check the top shelves. Nothing except for an empty potato chip wrapper and a box of dog biscuits... I sniffed again as I realized that I had gobbled a couple of them down last night. But why would dad buy me dog biscuits? He said that they would put hair on my chest, but could he have meant fur?
That was crazy. Dad was too drunk to see what was going on, but he did buy the dog biscuits -- probably his idea of a joke.
I hadn't turned furry yet, but from the looks of things I didn't have much time before I did. Dad wasn't any help so I would have to do this on my own, but what could I do? I couldn't go to town like this even if I could get some clothes from the car. Feeling desperate, I thought to check out the trash cans outside for leftovers.
Shoving my way out the screen door I sniffed at the cans for a moment before I headed deeper into the woods to take care of another matter. I yelped in unexpected pain as I squatted down. My back caught fire as my tail grew out pulling my shoulders much closer to my hips. When I could stand up again I looked over my shoulder. I could wave the tail, but it would take me a while to get control over it.
"Dad?" I called several times when I returned to the living room but the only response I had was a snore or two. I curled up on the throw rug beside the chair and went to sleep. Maybe he'd wake up sober enough to help me.
Several hours later I woke to sound of his yawn. I bounced up to my feet. "Dad, check this out," I said waving my tail at him. "Now will you help me?"
"Neat trick, Davey, but what is this supposed to prove?"
"Dad, I told you, I'm turning into a wolf. Look at me!" I snarled at him and displayed my fangs. "Don't you care at all? I have paws now and I can't even stand up anymore."
"So, you brought some props with you. Funny, very funny, but get out of that outfit now."
"I can't, Dad." In spite of myself I started to whine. "My suitcase is locked in the trunk of your car so how could I have brought this stuff with me?"
"It doesn't matter." He walked into the kitchen and came back gulping down another bottle.
"What about breakfast? Lunch? Is there anything to eat here?"
"You're the wolf so go and catch it." He slumped down in the chair and finished the booze.
I ran out the front door and skidded to a stop before I crashed into Momwolf. One look from her made me feel guilty about leaving the den earlier. I hung my head for a moment, then started bouncing around her yapping as if nothing had happened while I followed her back into the woods to have lunch.
****
Why was I doing this? I knew I was going to change again, but I couldn't stop myself from nursing. I tried to force my jaws from moving, but it wouldn't work. I looked up at Momwolf. She stared back at me with love in her eyes, but how big they were. My body tingled and I shrank again. As I watched a fine golden down started growing along my arms and legs. Instead of fighting it, I cuddled in next to the wolf and slept.
When I woke, I found the down had changed to fur. And yet, the worst part about this was that I didn't care. I was changing into an animal and it felt like just another day at school. I now felt comfortable as a wolf -- as if I had been born a cub.
'Davey!" I heard my father's voice bellow through the woods. He called several times as I scrambled to my feet. Momwolf had left the clearing, but I felt she wasn't far. I did a quick check of myself to make sure I still looked a little human. I did, but not by much. The fur covered me from nose to tail, but it was thin enough to see pink skin underneath.
"Dad," I said in a low bark. "What's the matter?"
He stared at me, weaving back and forth on his legs. "What in the world are you? Where's my son?"
"I told you I was turning into a wolf, but you didn't believe me. Go back to your bottle, Dad. I'll be fine out here. I don't know what you'll tell Mom when you can't send me home, but you'll think of something. Just don't tell her I drowned because she would never believe it... Oh, you might as well. It's as good an excuse as anything else."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't worry about it, Dad. You're too drunk to be out here. You might fall and hurt yourself. Now there's no one who could get help. In fact, I'm not the only wolf here. There are others and we just might make a meal out of you. Serve you right as far as I'm concerned you drunken rat."
"How dare you say that to me? I'm your father."
"I'm turning into a wolf so it doesn't matter any more. You couldn't be bothered to help me."
"Don't give me that. People can't change into wolves for real. This has to be some sort of... Oh -- my -- God. That's a wolf."
"That's Momwolf. She's the one that's been taking care of me since you wouldn't. I'm going to be her cub. See? I'm still shrinking." I sat down to scratch my ear.
"This can't be happening. Get away from the wolf and I'll get my gun."
"No!" I barked. "She isn't hurting anyone. I need your help to stop turning into a wolf before it's too late. You don't need to hurt her."
"You aren't turning into anything except a first class sissy. I knew your Mom would make a girl out of you without me. I'm going to get my gun and end this right now."
"What can I say that will convince you I'm changing? Can't you see the way I look now?"
"Don't be so stupid... Okay, tell you what... Howl. I want to hear a real wolf's howl out of you and then maybe I'll believe it."
I shook my head and the rest of my body with it. "I can't. That would just make the change worse. I need to get food -- people food. I want to stop changing."
"No dice. I said howl, and I meant it, or I get the gun."
I stood still, raised my head and opened my jaws. I let out a wail, not much of a howl -- more of a puppy's squeak, but I did it. As soon as I finished my nose and face stretched the rest of the way into a muzzle. Fur flowed over my legs, chest and back down to the tip of my tail. I howled again, but this time I had answers from the other side of the lake. Momwolf joined in the chorus. Then she walked over to stand way over me.
"Looks like you really did change. Go, take him and get out of my sight. Go!" he half bellowed at the wolf. She picked me up by the scruff of the neck and ran. "Don't you ever come back here, Davey. I'll kill you if you do. In fact, why don't I do both of us a favor and get my gun." He took one step toward the cabin then fell flat on his face.
I hung completely limp from my mother's mouth as I accepted my new form, and the new life I would lead.
****
Fall came, and I felt the chill in my fur. I had grown considerably over the summer and now stood about half the size of my mother -- all long legs. I lowered my head to the water to drink and looked up when I heard a loud buzzing behind me. I spotted the glowing, multi-colored sphere of the Spirits of Power, but I couldn't remember what it was. Instead, I growled and pounced.
"Easy, there, easy. Nice wolf."
I jumped and bit at the sphere but it managed to hover out of range.
"Davey, we need you to remember yourself."
"What?" I blinked and shook my head. For the first time in months I remembered my human self. "I'm still a wolf? What happened to me?"
"Easy, boy. Easy -- don't bite the nice spirits. Good wolf."
"Okay," I said judging the distance again. "Why are you here and why am I a wolf?"
"Subject questions answered by drawing on your account. Account holder paid the credit established in his name and is now in immediate danger because of it."
"Translation, please?"
"He means, boyo, that your changing into a wolf fulfilled your obligation to us and you are about to meet your maker. Understood?"
"What obligation?"
The sphere grew larger and flattened out into a screen. "Perhaps it would help if you saw how your account was opened. Take a look."
On the screen, I had to squint to focus my eyes on the image. The picture continued to grow until I could view comfortably.
I saw my father crawling through a forest I didn't recognize. He moved slowly, pushing aside brush carefully, and I saw the rifle he carried with him. My ears pricked as I heard a rustle close to Dad in the brush, and my stomach churned as I saw him reach for the gun. He aimed and fired, then pushed through the bushes to find a dead wolf cub. He shook his head, and swore, but he didn't see Momwolf until she jumped for his throat.
"Spirits of the Powers." He shouted out and time seemed to freeze for him. I saw the same sphere appear before my father. "Help me. I didn't mean to kill her cub but she's about to kill me."
"Yes, she is. Did you not check to see what you were shooting at? Suppose you killed a human child playing in the woods. Could we or would we save you from the death sentence?"
"It was an accident."
The sphere glowed for a moment. "The wolf demands a life for her lost cub. She is in the right, since she will fail her duty to her pack for this. Wolves mate for life, and she lost her mate last spring to another hunter. This will be her last cub, and the pack is low in members."
"But what can I do?"
"Pay with your life or replace the cub."
Dad shook his head and stared at the wolf still frozen in mid jump. "Where am I going to get another cub?"
"You will become the cub. You will give up your human life and take over the cub's. It was male, and you are such a mighty hunter."
"I can't do that. I'm not an animal. I'd rather die." He paused for a moment and I expected to see smoke coming out of his ears. At length, he said," I have a son. I haven't seen the little twerp for a while, but would he do? My son to replace hers?"
The sphere glowed for a while. "The wolf finds this acceptable. Where is your son?"
"He lives with his Mom, but I can have him here in three or four weeks when school lets out. I have visitation rights and I can use them for once."
A beam of yellow light surrounded the cub, and I swore I saw a wolf cub float from the body to be absorbed by the sphere.
"You will bring your child to a place of our choosing. We and his new mother will take care of the rest. While he stays with you make sure he has nothing to eat. Junk food will slow the process. The change will take a day or so, and he will need to stay with you part of the time..."
The scene changed to show the sphere in the bus stop with me. I watched as the beam of light bathed my chest and head, and this time I saw the wolf cub float down from the sphere to be absorbed inside me.
"What a rip," I said as the picture ended. "You mean I'm a wolf because my dad had to save his own neck?"
"In a word, yes. The boy takes the cigar."
"Will I ever be a human again?"
"No," the spirits said quietly. "You now have the obligation to your pack that the original cub had. You will make a brilliant leader, Davey. You will give the pack many fine cubs of your own, but you must hurry."
"Dad knew all along this was going to happen. But why couldn't I do anything about it?"
"As the soul of the wolf cub merged with your own you had to find the change as completely natural. You were used to being a wolf from before and were just changing back. You now have a wolf's spirit somewhat cluttered up by human memories. In essence, you are as much a wolf as if you had been born one. Now," the spirit said and spun again.
"Your father," the spirit went on, "is planning a wolf hunt with his friends. He spent considerable money to have the lake dredged for your body last summer and now has convinced his friends, at least, that the wolves ate you. They are gathering at his lodge house even now, and will start the hunt early tomorrow morning."
I glanced across the lake at the house, and I did notice the extra cars. "But why?"
"We do not concern ourselves with motives, boyo. They are humans and you are a wolf -- in New York state of all places. Canada is that way. Get the hint?" With that the spirits vanished again.
I ran back to the den calling for Mom. She came right away, and I found it easy enough to make myself understood. I now had a much larger vocabulary than the average wolf, but I couldn't tell her that humans were coming with guns. I just whined danger and nodded my head in the direction of the lodge. She got the message, and started a howl to summon the rest of the pack.
We ran the rest of the day and long into the night. Although I didn't lead the pack I did give the directions. We headed north toward the High Peaks and Mt. Marcy. I wanted to get the pack as far away from people as I could, but we did need to eat and rest from time to time.
I was not allowed to hunt with the pack the next day. I followed along with the rest of the cubs and watched as the pack leaders brought down a huge buck. Dad would have been green over all the points.
My heart had raced to watch the wolves hunt the deer. They were a well drilled team with every move perfectly timed. Once the buck was down the pack leaders ate first, while the cubs ate last. I took my turn ravenous at the sight of the bloody meat, and yet thoughts of "Bambi" slipped in. I knew the buck was old and I could try to make myself believe that our hunting strengthened the herd, but... I was now a wolf and I would spend my life as a wolf, and that meant eating as a wolf.
The next day I had to urge Mom to get the pack to move away from the kill. We kept running following the roads. I couldn't explain to the pack that I was getting my directions from the trail signs just as I could not figure out from the pack what had brought them to New York in the first place.
The pack numbered eight adults, two yearling females and five first year cubs including me. With all of us moving through the park at high speed, I figured people would find traces of our passage. I wanted to take the pack all the way to Canada before Dad or any other hunter could catch up with us, but the pack had other ideas. As long as game was to be had, and stomachs were full, wolves did not see the need to run far from an unseen threat.
I managed to take them inside what looked to be a small wildlife preserve. It had a gate and a ranger station, and "No Hunting" signs all over the place. We crossed into the preserve at night when I told them it was a safe place, but the pack members now wanted to go separate ways until winter. We had left the place of danger and this was a safe place and that was all that mattered.
I spent the first three days helping Mom with a den. The preserve did cover a huge area in the mountains and all of it looked wild. It took another four days before I could check out the ranger station. I hoped to find an area map. I knew Canada was north, but I wanted to see the best route. When the seasons changed again I thought to get the pack on the road again.
The Ranger's building was huge, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get in while it was closed. Business hours were posted but since I no longer had access to a clock I didn't care and I could just see the reaction I would get if I wandered in during the day to look at the maps.
I started to head away from the building when I spotted a newspaper on one of the picnic tables. I jumped up on the bench to look at it only to find a picture of me as a human on the front page.
"Missing Boy Attacked by Wolves?"
"Twelve year old David Adamson, reported missing last June, may have been the victim of a wolf attack according to his father, Mr. H. Adamson... Although some evidence of wolves have been found at Mr. Adamson's lake, no trace of a body or bones have been found to substantiate the claim..."
I kept reading ignoring the warnings from my nose. I had to use my nose to turn the pages, but I found out how extensive the search for me had been, and I read about various wolf sightings that had occurred over the last few days.
I heard a camera shutter click. I looked over my shoulder at a group of tourists standing behind a uniformed ranger. "Do you mind? I'm trying to read here." I heard several more cameras go off, but no one seemed to understand my growls. I shrugged and went back to the paper.
"Please keep your distance. This is a very young wolf, but as you can see from the size of his teeth and claws he can still do a lot of damage. And, since he seems to be reading about the wolf attack last summer let's not give him ideas."
I finished the story, folded the paper back up, and then hopped down from the bench. I pulled the paper off the table and carried it back into the woods to read the comics. Sure enough, the next morning I found another paper on the table. I looked around but didn't see anyone either in or near the building. This time I took the paper with me rather than reading it there.
The papers kept appearing on the table. I wondered what the rangers made of me until I found a picture of me as a wolf in the paper. I made a handsome animal, I thought, as I read the story.
"...Far be it from me," I read the ranger's quote, 'to keep a young wolf from furthering his education. Since he always places the papers in a recycling bin near the station I don't see anything wrong with letting him read the news. I just hope he will understand that the station closes for the winter next month and paper delivery will stop..."
The ranger took this as a joke, but I wondered if I could convince anyone I really was smarter than the average wolf.
A few days later I found a new box planted in the ground a few yards from the trash bin. I dropped the paper then went over to check it out. I scratched open the door and gave the camera a wide grin. I backed up, shook my head no as hard as I could, then walked back to the box. "No contract, no pictures," I growled before shutting the camera off. I closed the door then, in spite of myself, I marked the box. Let them chew on that for a while.
A few minutes later I spotted a pair of men running to the box. They both stood there looking at the camera. "This is impossible. How could he have known what that was?'
"A wolf that reads the paper and drops it into the trash isn't impossible?"
"There must be hundreds of reasons he's doing that -- hundreds."
"Name one," the other said with a wide grin.
"Well, just because I can't think of any right now doesn't mean that there aren't any... But he seemed to know right what the camera was and how to turn it off."
I circled around the back of the station, then tried the front door. I couldn't smell anyone in the building so I went in and checked the walls. I stood up on my hind legs to study a large map of the state. If I took the pack northwest of the park...
"May I help you, young man?"
I looked over my shoulder at the ranger. I reached up with my right paw and tapped the Canadian portion of the map.
"Ah, of course, -- directions to Canada. I take it your pack got lost and you need to get home?'
I nodded my head -- hard.
"From here there isn't an easy route. You know, of course, that you are welcome to stay. There must be thousands of naturalists out there drooling over the chance to study you."
I shrugged, then walked over to the man very slowly. I reached out, patted his holster, then fell down on the floor playing dead.
"Afraid of hunters? There is no hunting allowed in the preserve... I see you aren't impressed. You're right, though. We could not keep a determined hunter out. They would pay a huge fine, if we caught them, but you would still be dead."
With another nod, I stood back up. I slowly tapped my paw fifteen times on the floor, then patted my chest.
"I see, you have fifteen wolves in your pack?"
This time I nodded wagged my tail.
"I might be able to arrange transportation."
"No," I barked and shook my head.
"What are you doing, Jim?"
"Trying to figure out the best way to get a pack of fifteen wolves to Canada. He says they got lost and are trying to get home. Go head, son, show Chet here the map.
With a slight grin, I shook my head.
"That's not fair. Chet, really, when I came in this one was reading the map over there and he wants to go to Canada. I'm not making this up."
I relented and stood up by the map to point.
"See. He's the one that counted the pack for me, too. Any ideas? He's refused transportation."
"What's the matter? Aren't our trucks good enough for you?"
I sighed and shook my head. Everyone turned at the sound of a loud growl outside. Mom.
"Uh oh," Jim said. "That would be your mother wouldn't it? And I bet she doesn't approve of your playing with humans."
I nodded my head.
"You'd better go now, but come back anytime and we will work on your problem." I ran outside with and gave the men a wide grin before Mom called me back into the forest.
"Did you see that?" Jim said. "There's something wrong here..."
"Don't read too much into this. The cub seems friendly enough but he probably had no idea what we were saying -- but then he reads the paper -- but then he's just a wolf." Chet paused for a second scratching his head. "Let's leave this to the experts. In fact, let's not tell them about this either. Let them figure it out on their own."
"But how do we get the wolves back to Canada?"
"We don't," Chet said. "If you want to draw out a route on the map and leave it where they can find it I won't stop you, but don't tell me about it."
****
Something was wrong. The next morning when I went to collect the paper I smelled deer, and quite close, but I had never known any to graze near the station. I sniffed around a few times, then walked over to the table surprised that the deer hadn't run from my scent.
The woods exploded with the sound of a gunshot. I felt something zing over my head and I dove for cover under the table as a second shot rang out. A second later I bolted for the ranger station and hid behind the building as a third bullet grazed my tail.
Humans, I thought, as I smelled my two rangers approaching. I didn't dare peek around the building to see if the hunter was following me or not.
"Freeze," Chet's voice sang out. "Drop your weapon and get your sorry ass out here now before we open fire. One... Fire!" Several shots cracked through the woods before I heard my dad's voice.
"Don't shoot. There's the gun. Don't shoot."
"Come out here with your hands over your head -- high over your head."
I peered around the building to see Dad stumble and trip out of the woods. Figures he would be drunk.
"That wolf killed my son. I was just evening the score. What are you doing?" he asked as Jim put on the handcuffs.
"That wolf is an endangered species, and you are under arrest," Chet said. "That wolf is hardly more than a cub and is not a threat to anyone, but you, mister, are. I'd look for real jail time for this."
I walked up beside Chet, and nuzzled his free hand. He sighed as he petted my head for a moment. "This is a big, bad wolf all right."
Dad glared at me, and I returned the stare. I growled out, "Yeah, get your sorry ass in jail, Dad. You deserve it."
"You can't talk to me like that," he said glancing at me and then the rangers. "You stupid brat. One of these days you're going to be a rug on my wall. You hear me?"
"Oh, please, mister," Jim said. "Don't try to cop an insanity plea with us."
"But you heard him. He..."
"Get moving," Chet said. "It's a long drive to the police station."
****
I made one contribution over the winter: I taught the pack to run for the trees at the first sound of a helicopter. Humans on foot were easy to avoid, and with the closing of the park very few naturalists stayed to track us over the winter. But, no matter what I tried, I could not get the pack to move again. Someday, I hoped I would be the pack leader, and then I could use the map to Canada.
As the seasons changed again, I found myself drifting away from Mom. I stayed away from the ranger station as well as I concentrated on being a wolf and nothing more. It would have worked except for an accident.
One morning, in early May, I woke very early with the feeling that something was wrong. I couldn't smell anything out of place like the last time, but I left my den anyway to look around.
A ground squirrel served for breakfast. Once I finished my meal, I followed the rodent's scent back to its den. I started to dig up the nest when I heard a human cry for help. I looked up and when the cry sounded again I followed it.
I rounded a boulder cautiously and found two kids, a boy and a very young girl. Both looked disheveled from spending the night in the woods, but the girl had been hurt.
The boy spotted me, and I watched his mouth drop open. He picked up a large branch and stood there ready to defend the girl. My heart went out for him even as his bladder gave out.
I couldn't help myself. "That is the bravest thing I have ever seen."
Again his mouth dropped open. He frowned but kept the branch up. "I'm not that brave."
"Yes, you are. Get real. I could take that branch from you in no time flat, but you are going to protect your sister no matter what. What happened here?"
"It was an accident, and I've never met a talking wolf before."
"Neither have I for that matter. You can understand me? Why? No one else can."
"How should I know? I'm just a kid. You started talking to me so you figure it out... Figure what out? I've gone completely nuts. Wolves don't talk. I can't understand you. Shoo."
"You can put down that stick now. My name's Davey."
"Davey?" he asked throwing the branch away. "If I'm going to be nuts, I might as well be nuts. What kind of name is that for a wolf?"
"You want to take that up with my Mom? I'm not full grown yet but she is and she doesn't like humans."
"Uh, no, that's okay with me, Davey. I'm Tommy. And that's Becky, my sister."
For the first time, I checked out the little girl. She had her right foot wedged underneath a fallen tree trunk. I could smell the old blood from her foot, and shook my head. "Her foot's broken and probably crushed. Where are your folks?"
"Good question. I don't know, but that's like them. Becky took off after dinner last night and I tried to catch her before something like this happened. She was too fast for me, and she took a tumble down that hill," he said and pointed. I tried everything I could to get her out, and I've been yelling all night. I didn't want to leave her alone."
"My pack wouldn't bother her, but there are bears here."
Becky opened her eyes and stared at me. "Where'd you find the doggie?"
"He's a wolf and he lives here in the park. You know, he's one of the wolves that Mom and Dad wanted to study."
"Are they here yet?" Becky asked.
"Nope, but now that Davey's here, he can protect you while I go get help."
"Better yet," I cut in, "see that log over there? You could use that as a lever. You place it, and get ready to pull her away from there while I put weight on it."
"I tried that, but... I bet you are a lot stronger than me."
"Tell Becky that this is going to hurt, and get her ready. How old is she?"
"Four and she won't think it's odd that I'm talking to you." Tommy brought over the second log and shoved it as far as he could under the tree near Becky's foot.
"Okay," I said getting into position. "Get ready -- now!"
I shoved down as hard as I could but couldn't budge the trunk. I tried again, and a third time before I felt a slight shift. Becky screamed with the release of pressure. I pushed again, Tommy pulled and dragged his sister away from the log.
"We did it," he shouted as Becky wailed in pain.
"You'd better get something to tie that foot up. You need to get out of those wet pants anyway."
"Not a chance. You don't need pants, but I do." Tommy pulled off his T-shirt and used that to bind Becky's foot. "Now what?"
"Help her up on my back, face down, and have her grab hold of my fur. It isn't that far to the top of the hill. You hold onto her to keep her steady."
How we managed the climb I'll never know, but we made it. Becky wasn't heavy but she was awkward to carry, and when she pulled on fur, she really pulled.
"That's even better," Tommy said when we reached the road. "Mom and Dad have already left."
"Are you sure this is the spot?"
"Yeah, the camper was parked right there last night. There's my cap," he said walking over to pick up a baseball cap. "They're probably still in the park, but I wanted to change clothes now."
"Do they always leave you like this?"
"That's my folks for you," he said and kicked a rock. "They're both alike. Once they get busy studying something that's it. They forget everything else."
"The ranger station isn't that far. We'd better get her there."
We walked in the middle of the road hoping to flag down a car, but it was still too early for traffic. Tommy offered to carry Becky for a while, but I didn't need a break.
"Davey, I saw this fox on TV a while ago. They said she was the world's smartest fox and now she's a big star and everything."
"So? Wolves eat foxes."
"Yeah, but this one can read and write."
I stopped still. "She can read and write?"
"Yeah, I saw her myself. She wrote her name on a blackboard and she even did math."
"So, there are others like me. I wondered about that."
"But she's a fox."
"And we were both human once. I've been a wolf for about a year. My dad did this to me, and I'm stuck in fur forever. I bet something like that happened to your fox."
"I guess, but since I can understand you and no one else can, I bet we could make a great act."
I shook my head. "It's different for wolves. I mean once you're a wolf your pack is everything to you, and I know I couldn't leave mine.
Car's coming from up ahead. I'll move aside, but get ready."
A park ranger's car drove up making rounds. Tommy waved the car down and pointed at me. "...My sister's hurt really bad, and that wolf saved both of us."
Jim got out of the car first. Chet turned on the car's emergency lights then stepped down from the car with a pistol drawn.
"Chet, what the hell are you doing?" Jim demanded. "Call an ambulance. Look, it's Silver. You know he wouldn't hurt anyone."
Tommy ran over and threw his arms around my neck. "He saved my sister's life. You can't shoot him, and his name's Davey, not Silver."
"Davey?" Jim demanded.
"You want to take that up with his Mom?"
"No," Jim said with a laugh. "Met his Mom last fall and I wouldn't want to do that again. Chet?"
The ranger holstered his pistol. "You're right about the wolf, but he has grown so much since last fall, and he hasn't been collecting the papers you leave out for him."
"Tommy, tell them this..."
Tommy listened to me and said. "Davey says that he did get that map of Canada you left out for him and he has it safe in his den. He's going to use it when he gets to be pack leader. He's been too busy lately to keep up with the news but thanks anyway. Now can we get help for my sister? She's really hurt."
Jim took the girl from my back although she kept screaming for the "nice doggy".
Tommy let go of my neck, and I gave his nose a quick lick. "I'd better be getting back," I said. "Good luck with your folks and with your sister."
"Please don't go... Maybe you'd better. My folks would spend all their time trying to study you, and they have those transmitting collars and
everything. Davey, I'll send help as soon as I can. Thanks for everything."
I gave a nod to the rangers and took off. I didn't know what Tommy meant by help and at that point I didn't care. He was the one that needed help.
****
As the first chill of fall hit the air, I again tried to move the pack north. No takers. Even Mom was content with out new location and the hunting was good. At least, I thought the string of naturalists would soon be gone with the first snows. I came within inches of biting one that tried to shoot me with a tranquilizer.
For that reason, I wasn't thrilled to find a human waiting for me outside my den. I had just had breakfast, and this guy was between me and home. I snarled at him.
"Hello, Davey. I'm Dr. Conley -- a veterinarian..."
I didn't want a check up. This time I snarled and snapped my teeth at him to give him the message a little more firmly. He backed up.
A fox vixen trotted out of my den. "I found a map and some newspaper clippings, and..." She took one look at me and said, "By the moon and all her sisters that's a beautiful wolf. Is this the right one?"
"I don't know," the vet said and took another step away from the den. "I don't think he wants visitors."
"Doc, haven't you learned anything yet? Hey, wolf boy, don't look at me like I'm lunch. I can get you a Big Mac. Think about it, two all beef patties, special sauce and everything. What do you say to super size fries with that?"
I tried to snarl at her, but my mouth was too busy watering. "Make it three Big Macs and I'm there, Miss Fox. But that wasn't fair, you know. How can I be the big bad wolf here when you bribe me like that? I mean I love hunting and eating raw meat, but -- how soon can we get them?"
"We have a supply back in our camper," Dr. Conley said. "Paula here is addicted to junk food. Your friend Tommy sent us, and I talked to your mother -- your human mother."
"That's great! How is she? What did she say? Did you tell her about me?"
"Come back with us, and we'll talk."
"Thanks, Doc. I didn't mean to be so rude before, but I wanted to make sure you weren't going to collar me or something."
So, I pigged out on hamburgers. The taste of that special sauce, even nuked, was incredible.
"There's more where that came from, Davey," Paula said as she finished her fried chicken. "I'm a star."
"That's right. Tommy said something about a fox, but what about my Mom?"
"She's fine. She's moved since you were home, but we tracked her down. Apparently she forced part of the story out of your dad, and she wants to see you. She never bought the story that you had drowned or that you were eaten by wolves."
"No," I admitted. "I just ate like a wolf."
"What did happen?" Paula asked. "I grew up in a witch's family* and I was a cat until my sister cast a spell to make me a fox. You?"
"My dad traded my life for his," I said and told them the story. "The pack is staying here, and I can't leave them for long, but I'd love to go see Mom."
"You could join our act," she said with a wide grin. "We ought to start a collection, Doc. Kids that have been turned into canines. The canine club."
"Too bland," I said. "What about 'New Curs on the Block'? 'Boyz2Dogz'? 'Uandiah Pooch'?"
"Well aren't you the laugh riot," Paula said with a low growl.
"I wouldn't mind being a TV star, although this isn't my idea of a limousine."
"Yes, but you still ride in style with all the junk food you can eat."
"How long have you been a fox?"
"Over a year now. I didn't have kits the last time, but not for lack of trying."
"Oh," I said with a wide grin. "You have a boy friend?"
"Long story, and don't you get any ideas, either, wolf boy."
I laughed. "Aren't you the sweetest little vixen? Took one look at me and fell in love. I know, I've always had that effect on girls."
This time the fox really did laugh. "We made the right choice with this one, Doc."
"Can we go now? I really do want to see my mother and Momwolf wouldn't understand a good bye."
"Not yet. I had clearance from the rangers over this, but I promised to call your mother as soon as we found you." He dialed the phone, and set it on the speaker.
"Hello?"
For the first time in a year and a half I heard my mother's voice and I felt my throat tighten.
"Hello, Mrs. Adamson. This is Dr. Conley again. We found David. He seems to be fine, but I haven't given him a good check up yet. He's right here."
"Hi, Mom," I said in a whine.
"Davey? Oh, sweetheart I thought I'd never hear your voice again. I thought you were dead. I never forgave myself for ignoring your last call. I mean you always did exaggerate things when you wanted to get your own way, but when your father called to say that you were drowned... I knew he was lying. From what you said about his drinking I thought he had cracked up the car and stashed your body someplace. I couldn't prove anything... But where have you been all this time?"
"With my pack," I said.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you very well."
"I'm a wolf now, and I've been living with my pack here in the park."
"Are you all right? You sound very hoarse. I can't make out anything your saying."
"It's okay, Mrs. Adamson. The problem is that Davey's a wolf now."
"I beg your pardon?"
Dr. Conley sighed. "Your ex-husband arranged to have your son turned into a wolf by something called the Spirits of Power."
"Ask her if she remembers the book that Dad sent me before I came up here."
"Davey asked if you remember the book that his father sent?"
"Well, yes," Mom said but she sounded distant. "Is my ex there with you?"
"No, I can assure you of that."
"He's in jail," I said.
"Davey said that he's in jail."
"I heard about that and Davey, he didn't go to jail after all. He was just given probation."
"He wants to know what for?"
"Because," Mom said quietly, "I have no idea who you are and what sort of game you might be playing trying to pass off a wolf as my son. I know it sounds so bizarre that it has to be true, but Davey's middle name has always been his deepest and darkest secret."
"Okay, okay," I said hanging my head down. "It's Marion."
"Marion?" Paula cut in. "Marion the librarian?"
"He said it was 'Marion'."
"Thank God for that. Oh, Davey, I'm so sorry." I could hear the crack in her voice as well.
"Our schedule will bring us to the Washington DC area within the next couple of weeks. I know he would love to see you again."
"Never mind that, Dr. Conley. Tell me your schedule and I'll meet you on the way."
Once Dr. Conley hung up, I asked him," Doc? Why is that some people can understand me, but others can't? Tommy could, and so can you and my Dad, but the rangers didn't and neither can Mom."
"I don't have an answer for that. I've always thought it a talent, or sometimes a curse after listening to Paula for hours on end. I can't talk to any other animal only the members of the Canine Club as it were." Paula scowled.
****
After two shows, I was a hit. The first night rocked. Dr. Conley had a routine worked out with the fox that made me laugh. She clowned around with everything that the man said. Of course, when she went to the blackboard and wrote out her name the audience went crazy. Paula bowed, then looked up to the doctor.
"Thanks, Paula. We will have questions from the audience later, but first I wanted to introduce a new friend of ours. Ladies and gentlemen,
this is David. Davey, come out now. This is Davey's first time on stage so he may be a little shy."
I walked on and felt the entire theater freeze. I gave them a "big bad wolf' glare and several kids whimpered. Dr. Conley walked over,
placed his hand on my head, and I sat down wagging my tail. I felt some of the tension ease.
"As you may have noticed, Davey is a timber wolf..."
"Isn't it dangerous to bring that animal out here without restraints?" a man shouted.
I gave the audience my best hurt puppy expression and hung my head. I heard some laughter.
"In this case, no," Dr. Conley answered. "Now you've hurt his feelings. It's okay, boy. He didn't mean to insult you. But it does bring up a good point. Wolves are magnificent hunters, and they are designed for killing, but they do not attack people. In fact, Davey, stand up and show these nice people your teeth. There, what big teeth you have. Teeth like these can bring down a full grown elk."
I shook my head and made a face. I trotted over the blackboard, picked up the chalk holder and wrote, "Hi, my name is David and I would rather eat a Big Mac than a kariboo."
Everyone cheered.
"That's very well, David and I know Paula has been a spokes-person? -- Spokes-girl? -- Spokes-beast for a fast food chain, but I think the job you're looking for is filled. They have a clown not a wolf." Again, everyone laughed. "But you misspelled caribou. It's c-a-r-i-b-o-u."
I gave the audience a wide grin before I wrote out, "I don't take spelling tests."
That did it. Every kid in the house cheered and I felt that I had arrived.
"But, Davey, you don't want to set a bad example for the children. They have to work hard to learn to spell properly. You don't want them to think you aren't smart, do you?"
"Okay," I wrote, "Caribou." I stuck out my tongue.
"That's it, wolf boy, it's my turn again," Paula growled, "I'm the star here."
"And I'm getting all the laughs."
"I see Paula is getting a little jealous of our wolf. Okay, my dear, it's your turn."
With another grin, I wrote out, "Girls!"
****
"Does the wolf boy have to go on tonight?" Paula grumbled as she paced the RV.
"Yes, he does. The kids will be expecting him, now."
"But it's no fair. I'm the star and he gets all the press and the attention."
"It was your idea that I join the act, fox girl. And I'm new. I'm sure after the novelty wears off they will go back to worshiping your pretty self."
"Very funny, kid. You're just a stray we picked up in the woods and don't forget it."
"Wolves eat foxes, and don't forget it either. After years of rodent I could do with a new taste sensation."
She hissed at me. Dr. Conley opened his mouth, but someone knocked on the door.
"It's my dad," I said, shocked. "He's drunk as always and he's got a gun. Mom's with him."
The door crashed open before Doc had a chance to answer it. Dad stood swaying in the doorway. He glared at me, then at Dr. Conley and down to the fox.
I pushed my way passed him to jump up and lick Mom on her face. She laughed, and pushed me down. "Okay, Harry. This is it. What did you do to him?"
"Go ahead, Dad. Tell her, and then tell us why you wanted me dead? Isn't it bad enough that I'm a wolf?"
"You shut up," he said and pointed at me. He turned to glare at Dr. Conley. "You've got my boy on stage and I want the money he's making."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Harry, this isn't the time for that." Mom said firmly.
"You heard me. That wolf's my son and I get the money for him. You tell him, Davey."
"What, you traded my life away for yours -- you spineless rat? Mom had sole custody of me when you guys split up so she gets the money. And..." I saw his hand reach for his coat pocket and I jumped for his throat. I landed throwing him backwards onto the pavement. I snapped my jaws closed on his hand until he screamed with the pain and the blood. I used my teeth to rip his jacket open and grab the pistol. I tossed the pistol toward Dr. Conley.
"You bit me," he said staring at the blood streaming down his arm.
"Yes, I did and you know what that means, don't you? Look the bite marks are healing already."
"What are you talking about?" he said peering down at his hand.
"You made me a werewolf. I got the spirit of that wolf cub you killed so I'm a full time wolf, but you -- guess what you'll be doing during the next full moon." I watched his face turn pale.
"I don't believe it."
"You're too far away from other people at the lake to pose a threat, dad, so you, too, can learn to love the taste of fresh mouse."
He screamed. "I'll kill you for that..."
"I'm not the little sissy wimp you thought I was anymore, Dad. Try killing animals with your teeth for a while. It broadens your outlook on things. Make one move and I'll tear out your throat without a second thought."
"Stop," Dr. Conley shouted and for the first time I noticed the crowd that had gathered. "It's not what you think. Officers, this man came to my camper and threatened me with that pistol. The wolf is very protective."
"Spirits of Power I summon thee. I am a traveler in need..." Dad yelled out.
Everything froze as the Spirit's sphere appeared over dad's head. "Oh, brother, now what?"
"Help me, Spirits, my son bit me to make me a werewolf."
"Way to go, Davey."
"Ugh, how did he taste?"
"Watch out you don't get liver problems like his. He must have a blood alcohol level over one hundred."
Dad staggered a bit as he said, "Spirits, you must remove this curse from me. I can't turn into an animal. I can't."
The sphere glowed brighter. "What about an insect? You'd make a great dung beetle, man."
"Subject request is inappropriate at this time. No account is open in subject's name."
"That means what do you have to offer us for removing the curse? You cannot use your son again to get you out of this."
"But I've got nothing else now."
"Then we will use you to clear Davey's duty to the pack. Instead of a werewolf you will be a wolf cub just like Davey was. But you will never remember your human self."
Dad looked around at the frozen people and made a dash to pull the pistol from Dr. Conley's hand. He froze in place for a moment before the sphere lowered over his head. A second later he vanished -- absorbed into the sphere by the Spirits.
"There, couldn't let him go to waste after all."
"Was he really a werewolf? I thought I just made that up."
"Yes you did, Batman, but who's going to argue with someone with such big teeth?"
"Great poker face, kid. We believed you, too."
"Subject account is marked paid in full. You may return to your pack or not. The choice is now yours."
"But as a TV star you can have it all, and we won't even charge you for the wish."
"Oh, that is so nice of you." I said. "Okay, take care of Dad, and thanks -- thanks for everything, Robin. I will be going back to my pack -- someday. But Hollywood is just waiting for a wolf like me. Oh, I have a question for you."
"Shoot, boyo."
"Why is it that some people can understand me and others can't?"
The ball spun for a while. "Subject question is beyond the scope of this entity."
"Good question, Davey, but we don't have an answer either. Think of it as a talent or a curse if you have to listen to Paula for hours on end."
"Can you make it so that my Mom could understand me?"
"Done. Here's looking at you, wolfie."
The Spirits left and time resumed. Everyone blinked, as I'm sure they just saw Dad vanish. "It's okay, he just made one wish too many and it backfired."
"Good boy," Dr. Conley said petting me for the crowd. "When the papers get through with you we may just have a new star. Paula could step down a peg or two."
"I heard that, Doc. Okay, wolf boy, it's you and me. Let the better canine win."
"Sure, let's talk about that over lunch -- red fox on a bun? Look, Miss Fox, we're in this together and if you can't live with that -- too bad for
you. My adoring public is arriving. You'd better get lost before they trample you." I gave her my best wolf grin.
"That wasn't a nice thing to say to her, David," Mom said quickly. "She is a girl."
"But, Mom, she's also a pest."
"Better listen to her, Marion. She is your Mother."
"I spoke too soon, Spirits. Way too soon. Come back, please?"
Paula retreated to the trailer with a growl. She stood just behind Mom.
"This is going to be a real fun trip," I said as Dr. Conley and Mom walked out to greet the press. "Real fun, and I asked for it myself."
The Pact
a Canine Club story by Andy Hollis
This is the third but not final story in the series that began with 'The Lady's Choice' and 'Summer Changes' Reading those stories first will help with this one but not absolutely necessary
Larry is having dreams; strange dreams involving him becoming a dog, but why? And what will really happen?
1.
Ouch. Sudden pain jarred me awake. I flipped over on my stomach and sighed. I reached around to feel the lump on my backside. It must have grown three inches overnight. In fact, I thought with another sigh, it was long enough to wag.
I'm turning into a dog. There was no getting around that fact anymore. The changes started a few days ago, but until now no one besides my best friend had noticed. Now maybe my parents would believe me. Then again, they probably wouldn't.
Everything started Sunday night when I had a weird dream. I found myself in a huge chamber that looked like a lab out of an old mad scientist movie. But in the dream I was a dog. I seemed comfortable enough as a dog, and I enjoyed having my family pat my head and stroke my fur. They made such a fuss over me that I licked faces and hands as if I had been born a dog.
Monday morning I woke up and found that lump. My first thought, with the memories of that dream still fresh, was that it was a tail. I laughed it off. There was no way I could really be turning into a dog, and yet as the day wore on I found less and less to laugh about.
I got out of bed like always, stretched then screamed my head off when I saw the dresser mirror. There, reflected in the glass was a large, black and tan dog instead of me. I walked over to the mirror and the dog walked as I did on two legs, but sort of hunched over. I looked behind the mirror, and every where I could think of on the dresser but couldn't find any sort of projector. In the mirror the dog copied my movements. I even went so far as to press my finger into the glass and trace out my name and dog followed as a normal reflection.
The trick was impressive, I had to admit, as I stared at the dog. I recognized the beast as a Doberman Pinscher without the clipped ears or tail. I pulled on my clothes and watched the dog dress himself as well. This was crazy. I shuddered as I left the room and ran down the hall to the bathroom. At least, my reflection in the toilet was me, although I saw the Doberman in the mirror over the sink.
Tuesday was worse. I woke the same way with a much larger lump and my eyes had changed. Now all the colors in the room looked washed out, and mostly gray. I blinked for a while trying to clear my vision, when my nose kicked in.
Scents. I never dreamed there were so many smells in my room. I mean I could smell everything from a pair of dirty socks under my bed to cookie crumbs left on my desk.
Incredible, I thought as I climbed out bed. Who needed colors when the scents told everything. This time I laughed at the sight of the mirror. Instead of the Doberman there was a little yappy dog with a scrunched in face. Pekinese, I told myself.
I threw my clothes on a raced downstairs to the kitchen. My little brother and sister were already at the table inhaling corn pops. I sniffed and frowned before walking over to Mom who stood at the stove. "Mom, I need to talk to you -- alone," I said giving the children a pointed glance.
"What's the matter, Larry. Got a girlfriend?" Trish said with a super sweet smile.
"No," I said right back. "It's your perfume. Don't use it anymore 'cause it really isn't right for you."
Mom turned around, walked over to the table and took in her own deep sniff. "Trish, you know you're not allowed to wear make-up or perfume to school. Go and wash it off."
"Tattletale," Trish said as she left the room. Mark giggled for a moment until he saw the glare on my face. At eight he knew better to get me too mad at him.
"What's the problem, Larry?" Mom said leading me into the dining room.
"Look, Mom, I know you aren't going to believe me, but I think I'm turning into a dog."
"A dog?" she asked and I could tell she was having trouble keeping a straight face.
"I know it sounds crazy, but I had this dream on Sunday, and yesterday I found this lump on my tailbone. It's growing into a tail, Mom, and my nose -- I can smell everything and then some."
"Larry," she said and placed her hands on my shoulders. "You're thirteen. Your body is going to change, but it's only that you're growing up. That lump is probably just a cyst or something. Does it hurt?"
"No, only when I lay on it, or sit on it the wrong way."
"Then there's nothing to worry about. I'll make an appointment with Dr. Fisher and he can drain it or something. Okay?"
"But what about the dogs in the mirrors?"
"I'll have him check your eyes too. Go, have your breakfast and get ready for school."
2.
"Hey, Larry. What's wrong with your eyes?" Tommy asked giving me the once over. He had been my best friend since first grade.
"Why?"
"They look weird, you know. They're brown and yellow but yesterday they were blue."
I shrugged. "I can't see colors very well any more either. I think I'm turning into a dog."
"Cool," he said offering me a high five.
"You believe me?" I asked, stunned. "I said I was turning into a dog."
"So? I know a boy who turned into a fox and another who turned into a wolf. If you change into a dog, I'll bet it's my turn next."
"You mean those are really kids?"
"Davey, you know the wolf, saved my sister's life. This is so great. What sort of dog are you going to be?"
"I don't know. A dog. I've got a tail, and you wouldn't believe everything I can smell now." I shook my head as we walked. "But I don't want to be a dog."
"Yes, you do, because I can understand you once you're changed and we can start our own act. Ladies and gentleman, Tommy Hamilton presents Rex, the wonder dog. Can't you just see it?"
"Rex?"
"Sure, what sort of name is Larry for a dog? I know Davey isn't any sort of name for a wolf but you don't argue with him."
"Not a chance will I ever do that, and you don't argue with me either." I grumped my way to class after that.
The walk home was worse. Tommy kept checking my face for fur, but it was my hands that had changed. "I've got pads now," I said showing my palms. "And I want to walk on them."
"This is getting serious. Look, Larry, I know this sounds crazy, but I know someone who might be able to help you."
"Who? Where? Can I see him now?"
Tommy shook his head. "It's a her, and she's got a place downtown. Come on."
I felt my stomach sink when I spotted the sign outside of the building Tommy led me to. "Madam Wanda's Palmreading?" I demanded.
"Sure. I know she's not a real Gypsy or anything, but who else would you go to for advice on the occult?"
"This is so stupid," I said about to turn around, but he did have a point. I let him go in first.
Madam Wanda surprised me. She was quite young, although she did wear a long silky gown with stars and moons sewn on. "Well, Tommy, it's nice to see you again. And who do we have here?"
"This is my friend, Larry. He's having a problem and we need your help, Madam Wanda."
She sat down in a wave of silk. "Very well. Larry, you sit there and give me your right hand. Let's see what the problem is."
I held out my hand startled by how much of a paw it looked. I didn't say a word as she turned my hand over and over.
"I see. You have a very short life line, young man, but you will have many many children. In fact," she said rubbing my pads, "what is going on here?"
"Larry thinks he's turning into a dog."
Madam Wanda nodded her head. "I was afraid of that, and from the looks of your hands and eyes it won't be much longer. I can't help, but I know someone who can."
"You do?" I was ready to celebrate. "I don't want to be a dog."
"Do you have any idea who is doing this to you?"
I shook my head. "No. Why would anyone want me to be a dog? I thought it was just happening."
"No, magic like this is never accidental. Someone cast a very powerful spell at you, son. Let me call my friend." She went into the back room. When she returned, her expression was somber. "I'm afraid she's out of town until Saturday."
"But it's only Tuesday. I don't think I can hold out until then."
She looked at me, and I could see that she agreed. "No matter. I want you to meet me here on Saturday no matter what shape you are in. Understood? We may still be able to get help."
"Okay," I said, but felt my stomach sink.
3.
That was yesterday. This morning I didn't even bother trying to get my pants on over my tail. I walked over to the dresser to see a large, German Shepherd staring back at me. I stared, and my heart pounded at the sight of the dog. He was the most gorgeous creature I had ever seen. I turned my head this way and that to get a better look at him, then opened my mouth to study his teeth and gums. I think I was in love.
Monday there was a Doberman, and yesterday there was that yappy thing, and now today, the Shepherd. It was almost as if I was being given an option. I was going to be a dog, no choice about that, but at least I could pick the breed I was going to be. But how did I tell whoever that I wanted the Shepherd?
"I choose that one," I said firmly.
I stared back at the Shepherd, smiling as hard as I could. I felt my tail tugging at my spine. I looked back to see it literally grow away from my body. As it did so, I felt my arms drawn closer to my legs. I held on to the dresser for a second, but I had to spin around and drop the floor as my hips and shoulders turned inward.
Paws, I thought as I watched my hands curl in. I had paws and four legs now. I lowered my rear end to sit on my haunches and a second later started scratching my right ear with my right foot. My ears twitched as I scratched the one, then my jaw ached as it stretched away from my face.
When my body stopped shifting, I stood up and tried to get a good look. I did look much more canine that human, although I didn't have any fur. My tail wagged furiously. I laughed at the sight but all that came out were a couple of barks.
Since there was no way I could dress myself now, I headed out of my bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. I had to go, but first, I peered into the bowl to see my reflection in the water. My whole head had changed. The ears, the eyes and the muzzle were completely canine leaving nothing of the old me. Without thinking, I lowered my head and started lapping the water. I jumped back, startled.
How much of a dog was I going to be? I tried every which way I could think of to use the toilet, but no matter how much I raised my leg, or tried to stand up it just didn't work. Now I would have to get used to going outside, too. This was just great.
I trotted downstairs to the kitchen. Even though my entire family stopped eating to stare at me, I didn't feel the least bit embarrassed about not wearing anything. I walked over to the back door, and barked. "Hey, I need to go out."
"Woah," Trish said. "Look at Larry."
Mark said, "Yes! I knew he'd pick the Shepherd. I told you." He stopped at a glare from my Dad.
"That will be all, Mark. Larry needs to go outside, and we can't let him looking like that. Mark, go put some papers down in the laundry room."
"But Dad, why do I have to do it? Oh, okay. Come on, boy."
"I'm not a dog yet," I protested, but no one acted as if they had heard me. I had no choice to follow Mark. He waited until I was finished to clean up, then followed me back into the kitchen.
"You are going to be a handsome dog, Larry," Mom said and fastened a flea collar around my neck. I watched with growing interest as my sister filled a bowl with dry dog food, and put it down by the stove for me.
"Breakfast. What are we going to call him? Can I name him?"
"When's he going to get fur?" Mark asked. "I don't want to pet him like that."
I lowered my head, and for the first time ate from a bowl on the floor. It was good, too. I finished in five seconds flat, licked the bowl, then whined until Trish put down a bowl of water.
"He's going to be a big dog at that," Dad said. "Look at those paws."
It was funny, I thought as I lapped from the bowl. Mom didn't believe me at all yesterday but she went out and bought a flea collar, and dog food anyway. And Mark, what did he mean by that crack about knowing I would pick the Shepherd?
Duh. I glanced over at my family calming finishing their breakfast and I realized I'd been had.
Mom stood up from the table to kneel down beside me. She put her arms around my neck. "Larry, I know you can still understand me, and I know this must seem confusing, but stop fighting the change. You will just have to trust me on this, but it's for the best. It really is. Just let yourself go."
With that, she put her hand down in front of my nose. I sniffed her palm, and then licked it. At that moment I felt our relationship change from mother and son to owner and pet.
My nose twitched. I rubbed it with a paw.
"Hey, look," Mark called out. "He's changing colors."
My whole body itched as fur grew in on my head, then flowed down across my back to my legs. Both Mark and Trish rushed over from the table to pet me now that I had fur.
"He's beautiful," Trish said.
"I still find this incredible," Dad said. "A boy one minute and a dog the next, and you could never tell he was ever anything else."
"No one can tell," Mom said. "Okay, you kids play with the dog now but you do have to get ready for school."
In spite of everything, I did play with the kids as if I was a dog. I could remember who I was, but it just didn't matter. I bounced around, growled and fetched as if I had always been a dog. It felt so natural and at that point I wanted to forget the human part of me.
After a while, I did get tired. I headed for the doggy bed my mother put out, turned around a few times and lay down. I had a feeling that when I woke I would just be a dog and that was fine with me. No more school, no more worries about anything, and it might have worked too.
Tommy Hamilton knocked on the kitchen door. Mark opened the door. "Hey, short stuff, is Larry ready?" He looked at me and opened his mouth.
"Don't say a word about it being me," I growled out. "Just nod your head if you really understand me."
"Wow," Tommy said nodding his head. "That's a beautiful dog. What's his name?"
"We haven't decided yet, and we're not sure we're going to keep him," Mom said. "Larry won't be going to school today. He's sick in bed."
"Oh, okay," Tommy said and dropped to his knees to pet me.
"They did this to me. Tell Madam Wanda will you?"
"Good boy," Tommy said. "It's almost like he's trying to talk. I've got this friend, Madam Wanda? She reads palms and things and she says that dogs really have their own language. I'll have to tell her about you, boy. And if you don't keep him could I have him? I know my Mom and Dad wouldn't care and my little sister loves big dogs. She was rescued by a wolf once."
"I think it's time you headed for school, Tom. We'll see you later, and I'll have Larry call you when he's feeling better."
"Okay. Tell him I said 'Hi'."
"That was close," Mom said as she closed the door behind Tommy. "If I hear that wolf story one more time. You don't suppose he could understand Larry like he did that wolf cub, do you?"
"No," Dad said. "Once the fur grew in that was it. I know there's no other way, sweetheart, but maybe I had better get this over now."
"Before the kids get too attached to the dog. I understand, it's just that. Never mind. The spell will make sure he's all right."
"Yes, it will." Dad pulled out a leash and attached it to my collar. "Okay, boy, this is it. We're going for a ride in the car."
I wagged my tail and danced around on my hind legs with my tongue hanging out of my mouth. The dog was excited, but I had a really bad feeling.
Dad dropped me off at the pound. He told the attendants I was a stray. They promised to try and find my owners, and if not they were sure I would be adopted right away. They put me into a little cage in a room with a hundred other dogs, and walked away.
I couldn't believe this. Not for one second. I started howling my frustration. My folks had somehow turned me into a dog and then sent me to the pound. I howled until my throat felt hoarse, and if they had come to put me down right then I wouldn't have fought it. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing.
A couple of times that day people did come by the cage looking at me, but I growled and bared my fangs every time until they went away. I watched the attendants, however and I realized it wouldn't be that hard for me to make a break for it.
That afternoon, I perked right up when I smelled Tommy and Madam Wanda enter the building. After a while, I heard them enter the room I was in.
"That's right," Tommy said. "A German Shepherd puppy. I don't know how he managed to get loose, but it won't happen again."
"Or you won't hear the end of it, young man," Madam Wanda said.
Tommy stopped in front of my cage, and I bounced around wagging my tail and whining as loud as I could. "Rex?"
"That's me, Rex the wonder dog." I yapped as he reached in through the bars to pet me. "It took you long enough to find me. I've been here for days and days."
"Only today, boy. It hasn't been that long. Good boy. I had to beat it out of Mark to find out where you had gone," he said in a whisper. "This is my dog all right. Can I take him home now?"
"We don't have papers or anything," Madam Wanda started. "And his good collar is missing, too."
"I understand," the girl said as she opened the door. "I can see that this is your dog, son. We'll bring him with us to fill out the paperwork."
"You guys are great," I commented on the way out of the pound. "But just don't let my folks or anyone know that you have me, okay?"
Tommy translated for Madam Wanda. She said, "No problem, since it will be best if you stay with me for a while."
"But I'll come over and see you every day," Tommy added.
4.
Being a dog really does have some advantages. Madam Wanda fed me well; she'd talk to me and never expect an answer, and she let me curl up and take naps whenever I wanted. Tommy usually brushed my fur every afternoon, and he would take me for long walks in the evening.
True to her word, on Saturday Madam Wanda called her friend. Ten minutes later I felt the lady arrive long before I could hear her car or smell her. Whatever power she had sent tingles through the air. I waited at the door for her, and sure enough she patted my head as Madam Wanda let her in.
"Beautiful dog," she said. "I take it this is the one?"
"Yes, he is. Larry Burke, this is Carolyn Rhys-Jones. Larry was thirteen as a human and now looks maybe five or six months as a puppy."
The lady knelt and placed a hand on either side of my head. "Normally there isn't much I can do after the subject has accepted his fur, but I will try. Wanda, could I have a moment alone with Larry?"
"Can you understand me?" I growled out as Madam Wanda left the room.
"You tried to say something, didn't you?" she asked quietly. "No matter. I'm beginning to see why this happened. Your parents are witches?"
I did my best to shrug. I nodded my head.
"You do have an incredible raw talent for magic, young man, but you're tuned to the Light as I am." She laughed at the expression on my face.
"It's not that hard to understand. Magic power has always existed but only a few people can ever use it. It's a talent much like playing the violin or being able to run the four minute mile or something. It takes years of practice to be able to use the power effectively, but without that initial talent you can't do it at all. Do you follow me?"
Again I nodded my head.
"Good, now the power to work magic comes in two flavors as it were. There is the power of the Light and the power of the Dark or more accurately, the Shadow. This is not necessarily good and evil, although at times it works out that way, but the two forces have always clashed.
"Your power," she said placing her hands on my head again, "is very much of the Light. Your parents belong to the Shadow and with you out of the way as a dog in the pound, they have removed someone who could grow up as a major power for the Light. Do you see?"
I hung my head down. "They're my Mom and Dad."
She smiled. "I don't need a translation for that. I know they are your parents, but sometimes this power affects people in different ways."
Tommy burst through the outer door with a clang of bells. "Oh, excuse me, where's Madam Wanda?"
"It's okay, this is the lady that can help me. Tommy, this is Carolyn Rhys-Jones."
"Hi, Miss Rhys-Jones. He introduced us. I'm Tommy," he said glancing back out the doorway. "If you can help please do something cause his parents are on the way over here."
"What happened?" I demanded.
"Your brother blabbed to your mom that he told me where you had gone. They checked with the pound and. Carolyn snapped her fingers. The room spun around and a second later I found myself in a large office. Tommy and I both looked around while Carolyn explained the situation to Madam Wanda.
"I can't afford to have a clash with his parents right now, or until I have to chance to check into who they are and which coven.
"Larry, it looks like we have a couple of choices to make. If you let me use your power I will be able to change you back into a boy, but as soon as I do your parents will know it, and come after us with every thing they have. The easiest thing to do would be to leave you as a dog. There have been others who are quite successful at it, and they may need a new member for their act. Or, you can join my order here and learn to use your powers."
Tommy translated as I said, "But you said they would come after me if I do. Can your order protect me?"
"Yes, but you see the difference is my order is strictly female. No boys allowed. By your turning into a girl, your parents will not know that their spell is broken, and you will be able to develop your powers in peace."
"A girl," I said with a snort. "I'd rather stay a dog."
"There is that option, but there will come a time when that form is permanent."
"Suppose I learned to use my powers then wanted to change back into a boy?"
Carolyn smiled at that. "There is no lifelong commitment to the order, Larry. When you leave it, if you chose to do so, you are free to become anything you please with your powers."
"Would I have to wear dresses and girly stuff?"
"Yes, you would. You will be a girl and at your age you will probably need a bra and you will need to worry about your monthly period. The dress code for young ladies in this order is not strict, but it will apply to you."
"And if I take my chances as a boy, there's a good chance my folks will kill me, right?"
"I'm afraid so. I know this is a hard choice, but you will have to make it soon."
"What about me?" Tommy asked. "His folks are pissed at me too, and if they come after me?"
She put her hands on Tommy's temples. "You do have some talent. I should have guessed that from the way you can understand Larry, but would you care to be roommates here?"
I laughed. "I'll do it if you will, Tammy."
It's odd. I found the change to female a lot weirder than the change to canine. No matter how hard anyone tried, though, my eyes stayed canine and so did my sense of smell. At least, my nose went back to looking human and kind of pretty.
As a girl I wasn't a babe by any means. I wore my hair long, and I did need a training bra but if I wore a heavy sweater I could still pass as a boy. Tommy turned into a knockout. She now had long golden blonde hair and a figure that should have been walking down a runway in a bathing suit. I know as a boy I would have killed to get near Tammy. I would have called me-the-girl a member of the kennel club and not even tried. I hoped that meant other boys wouldn't try either.
Two months after I began training I walked downtown to the mall with a few of the other girls. I needed some supplies, and Veronica said she knew a great place for me to get my ears pierced. Since Tammy looked so good in earrings, I thought I'd give it a try because as I was finding out my training would last decades at the very least.
I felt an odd twitch as I waited in the check out line at the drug store. I looked up through the glass out into the mall to see my little sister staring back at me. I glanced away and tried to act cool, as if I didn't know her, but a second later Mom walked into the store.
Now I could smell the stench of the Shadow on her.
Tammy motioned to the others and all the girls threw up a barrier of light between me and my mom.
"You idiot. You stupid brat, do you have any idea what you've done?" she yelled at me.
"I joined the order of the Light, mother dearest. Don't come any closer. I can fight back now."
"You've spoiled everything. Do you know that?" She tried to slap me but couldn't reach through the barrier.
"Oh? You turned me into a dog, sent me to the pound and I should care that I spoiled 'your' plans? I don't think so. I mean I don't remember asking you to please change me into a German Shepherd."
"You wouldn't understand."
"No I guess I wouldn't," I said.
"Is there a problem here?" I looked up to see a man with a name badge looking at us.
"No, my -- ah -- daughter and I were having a disagreement. We didn't mean to make a scene." With that she grabbed my hand and half pulled, half dragged me out of the store.
Carolyn met us in the hallway. "I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave, Mrs. Burke. Laura is a full member of my order now, and is under my protection."
"You -- you bitch," Mom spat at her. "You had no business interfering the way you did."
"What? I rescued a human born puppy from the pound. I would say that is my business whether or not she had talent for the Light."
I saw Mom deflate. "Perhaps we should have taken another tactic, but would you care for a cup of coffee? Larry -- Laura has a right to know why we did this to her."
"Truce?" I said.
"Okay," Carolyn agreed. "For the moment."
Mom took us to a little café where she ordered the drinks. "Look, Laura, I know this is going to be hard for you to believe, but your father and I love you very much."
"Sure, I believe that, yeah right."
"We didn't want to do this to you but we didn't have a choice. Just before you were born your father and I were getting desperate. We didn't have money then, and how we were going to manage a baby was anyone's guess. I met a girl, Melanie Jones who offered me a way out. She told me I had talent for the Shadow and that by joining her coven I could have all the power I would ever need.
"The catch was this coven of hers was female only and initiation required that I turn your father into an animal. Melanie had already turned her husband into a dog, and just recently her daughter changed her son into a fox."
"I know. Tommy told me."
"Okay, but I couldn't do that. We found another coven and although we made some serious mistakes, we joined it. Since both your father and I had the talent he became a warlock, and I a witch. The problem is that when we joined we received power from an arch-demon. In return, we promised him that you too would be sworn into his service. We signed the pact in blood and you were born reeking of the Light."
"I see," Carolyn said.
"I don't."
"We had hopes that you would be another powerful warlock. With both of us talented for the Shadow we never dreamed that you wouldn't be as well. Now, the arch-demon will not accept you as a warlock or witch for that matter. The only way he can collect is to accept you as a sacrifice. He can use your life energy or soul if you will and deny your power to the Light at the same time. Old Hogranth isn't a bad sort, as arch-demons go, but we had to come up with a way to break that pact without getting the rest of us killed."
"This is just great," I said. After a long gulp of my soda, which wasn't very ladylike but I didn't care at that point, I said, "What happens if this arch-demon doesn't kill me?"
"He will take one of us in your place. Mark would be the next logical choice since he does have the talent for the Shadow and a big mouth. Mark wouldn't be killed as you would be, but it's not something that any of us want either. Hogranth's title is Lord of the Vipers, and he would have Mark spend a century or two as a snake."
"Yeah, Mark would make a good snake all right, but I can't let that happen either."
"When is the sacrifice to take place?" Carolyn asked.
"On Laura's fourteenth birthday."
"Then we have time," I said. "Since I have all this power do I have to worry about an arch-demon?"
"Yes, you do," Carolyn said. "This isn't a joke, Laura. Lord Hogranth has a valid claim on you and we will have to do something to make sure he cannot collect."
5.
Carolyn paced her office floor. "I know this will be hard, but it may be the only way."
"But isn't there any other way?" I protested. "Mom and Dad made a pact with an arch-demon so can't I make one with an arch-angel or something?"
"It doesn't work like that."
"But," I shook my head. "Isn't there anyone in the Light that can stand up to the Shadow?"
"Of course, but the Light doesn't have angels or any of that. Look, this part is not going to be in your training for quite a while, Laura, but here goes. The power of the Light and the Shadow are regulated by two people. That's it, two. There is a Lord of Light and a Lord of Shadow, and frankly you would not want to meet either one.
"The Lord of Shadow has his demons and arch-demons and all the creatures of the underworld. The Lord of Light has six companions instead. For us to contact any one of the great ones is risky at best, and probably won't happen. So, we rely on ourselves and again, the best thing we can do is turn you back into a dog."
I shook my head. "I'm tired of running. I never wanted to be a dog. I didn't want to be a girl either but I did it to hide from Mom and Dad and now I don't need to hide, but I still need training. But if I go back to dog now that's it, isn't it? I mean I will live my life out as a German Shepherd because if I turn back this arch-demon will be able to claim me and kill me."
"That pretty much sums things up."
"Let me think about it, okay? The arch-demon won't be looking for me for a couple of months anyway."
Once back in my room it was my turn to pace, until Tammy shoved me down on my bed. "Will you cut that out? I'm trying to think."
"So am I and you're driving me crazy. So, what's it going to be?"
"I'm going to be a dog again if I can't come up with anything else. Maybe I should just turn back into a boy and go home. You too."
"What? Are you kidding? I'd never leave here now. My little sister loves me like this and my folks haven't even noticed I'm gone."
"Sure, you got all the good looks. If I turned back into a boy no one would notice. Maybe I should be a dog."
"Just say the word and I'll call Dr. Conley for you. Paula's a trip but you'll love Davey."
I stood up and headed for the door. "Not this time."
"Where are you going?"
"To the Library. Carolyn said there was this Lord of Light and didn't think we could call on him for help, but I'm going to try."
I opened the door to find a tall man standing outside the doorway. He had no scent, but I could feel the Shadow on him. "Going somewhere?"
Looking way up at him, I blurted out, "Arch-demon Hogranth?"
"Well, give the puppy a chew toy. You and I have business to discuss, Missy."
"But I'm not fourteen yet."
He cleared his throat. "I make it a policy never to ask a girl her age. But I do get concerned when people start breaking promises to me all over the place. I know you never promised me anything but since they do concern you..."
"I know the story. Sorry I can't offer you anything but I've never had an arch-demon pay me a visit before so I don't know the rules. What makes a demon arch anyway?"
"Very funny," he said walking past me into the room.
"What do you want here?" Tammy demanded.
The arch-demon snapped his fingers and Tammy froze into place. "I have no intention of frightening you, although I may be too late on that, but we do have a problem here. Before you were born your parents promised you to me, but in an effort to break that pact they changed you, body and soul to canine. The Light changed your body back to human, but your soul has remained canine, and as such, it is of no use to me. Therefore, the Pact that your parents signed with me is broken, and they must pay the price for that with their own lives. They knew this when they signed, and I am sure they are expecting this as well."
"But you can't do that," I said feeling rather stupid as I said it.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I can. Unless, of course, you agree to change back completely to human so that I may use your life force as planned."
I cleared my throat. "I'd have to die?"
"Unfortunately, yes. That is one of the side effects of my using your life force, but you would die to save your parents from the same fate. Who lives, and who dies? This will be an interesting couple of months for you while you decide. But, on your fourteenth birthday no matter where you are or what you are I will be there to collect."
"Hold everything, snake boy." A boy, this one about my age and height with bright red hair popped into the room.
"What is this, a party?" I mumbled and shook my head.
"Sorry, Miss, but I hope you weren't buying everything this snake-oil dealer was selling. Old Hoggy here doesn't have the last word in this. I'm Pat, by the way, and His Nibs, my boss and yours for that matter, wanted me to tell you that the proper way to deal with arch-demons is this." The boy turned, faced Hogranth squarely, and blew a raspberry. "Doesn't that feel better?"
"Well, Patty, just as cute as ever. Tell His Nibs that in this case he has no say what-so-ever." With that, he vanished.
"You're one of the Lord of Light's companions?"
Pat smiled at that. "Minion is more like it, or happy henchman. It's a long story and one that can wait for some other time. The boss, however, said that you, unlike the babe here, can join a male order anytime you choose since you are so uncomfortable in your present shape."
I shook my head. "This really isn't that bad, and I'd miss Tammy and the other girls. Speaking of Tammy, can you fix her?"
Pat smiled, then said, "In a second." Without warning he kissed me right on the mouth. I sputtered for a moment, then let myself relax as he coaxed my mouth open with his tongue. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and closed my eyes.
"Maybe you are getting comfortable like this," he said with a wider grin.
"What do you mean?" I asked, then at his urging I looked in the mirror over my dresser. I stared at myself for a moment. "I'm really pretty. Does that happen every time you kiss someone?"
"No, but in your case." He kissed me again until an alarm bell rang. "That would be His Nibs calling. I gotta split, but could you get me a copy of that Pact your folks signed? I'll meet you here tomorrow night."
I gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Pat snapped his fingers and vanished with a pop as Tammy shook herself awake.
"What happened? What happened to you?" she demanded. "Don't tell me you made a pact with that creep too."
"Nope, but I think I've got a boy friend."
6.
I walked up to the front door of my old house just as Dad was leaving for work. He glanced at me, then did a major double take.
"Larry? I mean, Laura? Your mother told me what had happened with your new Order, but she never told me what a pretty girl you had become."
"It's better than chasing sticks and burying bones, Dad."
He checked his watch, and turned a deep shade of red. "Got to run."
Inside the door, I called out, "Mom? Mom?"
"In the kitchen, sweetheart. What brings you here?"
Both of my siblings stared at me as I entered the kitchen. "Wow. Larry, you're a real babe," Mark said, then sighed. "But not as pretty as that Shepherd."
"What happened to you?" Mom asked me with a frown on her face.
"Just getting comfortable with who I am now," I said. "Do you have a copy of that Pact you signed with Hogranth? He came by my room last night and made rude noises at me about killing you and Dad because my soul isn't any good to him now."
Her face turned pale. "He's going to take us instead?"
"That's what he said, but Pat, one of the Lord of Light's happy henchmen chased him off. He wanted to get a copy of the agreement to fight this."
Mom frowned again. "Pat? You mean Patience? About fourteen, red hair and kind of cute. That Pat? Oh, so you're sweet on him, are you? Let me warn you that all of those 'companions' of the Lord of Light are hundreds of years old and not really interested in little girls."
"I'm not really interested in him, either, Mom, but he may be a way out of this mess that you and Dad got me into, remember? I didn't buy Hogranth's Snake Oil. You did, but now I have to pay the price."
"Okay. Of course we have a copy. I'll get it for you."
"Hey, Laura, want to play fetch?" Mark called out holding up a stick.
"Very funny, short stuff," I said although my teeth felt funny as I looked at the stick. Somewhere deep inside I did want to jump for the stick after all.
Two boys appeared in my room that night, right on schedule. Pat introduced the second as Fidge. This one took the Pact, and read it through.
"It's very straightforward, and doesn't leave any room for loopholes, but I will see what I can do." He popped out in spite of Tammy's protests.
"Would like to go for a walk?" Pat asked me.
"I'd love to," I said with a wink to Tammy.
"What is going on in here?" Carolyn asked from the doorway.
I blushed from the tip of my head down to my toes. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Pat, this is the leader of our Order, Carolyn Rhys-Jones. Carolyn, this is Patience."
"Young man, this is not the place. Oh, my mistake, but still this is a girl's dorm."
"I understand," Pat said quickly. "I was just taking Laura out to discuss a few things about her case."
"I see," Carolyn said and I blushed again. "Very well, but not too late."
The last thing I had ever expected was that I would start dating a boy. I mean I was perfectly happy being a boy for thirteen years, but now I felt more than happy to be a girl. It was weird when I thought about it, so I tried not to think about it.
7.
As my birthday grew closer and closer, Pat stayed around. He knew I was scared, and I appreciated the support from someone who wasn't scared of the arch-demon.
I suppose I should have been happy when my birthday did arrive. I got or so it seems, hundreds of presents, and a party but I felt that the whole world was holding its breath waiting for the evening.
Pat, Fidge, and Tammy all walked with me to my parents house. Mom and Dad said very little as they opened a secret passage in the living room and led everyone down into the cellar. A secret passage, I couldn't believe it, and yet there it was. I never would have guessed.
The passage wound its way down a long narrow corridor and ended in the same mad scientist's lab that was in my dream. This place was great. Hundreds of vials of chemicals lined one wall, while bookshelves piled with books and papers covered the rest.
Dad knelt and started to draw a symbol on the floor in chalk, but he fell back when a hole opened in front of him. A King Cobra, a giant of its kind, rose from the pit and hissed until it towered over everyone present.
"How very prompt," the snake whispered.
"That is so you, Hoggy, but cut the crap and get on with it," Pat said tapping his foot.
"Patience, I'm surprised and horrified that you could be so rude," Fidge said. "After all, the poor thing went through quite a lot to bring us this impressive display. Go on, Hoggy, don't mind Pat. You do such a great snake impression that we can't wait to see some others. What about Jimmy Stewart?"
The snake shrank down to Hogranth's so called human self. "You two are such fun at parties. The Light has no business here."
"But we do," Fidge said quietly. "The Light always takes interest in what the Shadow is doing. In fact, we stick our noses in everywhere invited or not, but which noses would you rather see? Ours, or the Boss'?"
"Now Fidge, you know the Boss has a much cuter nose than either one of us. Shall I give him a call now, and get it over with?"
"I am here to collect a just debt," Hogranth announced. "And neither you nor your Boss can stop me. By the terms of the Pact agreed to by myself and these two humans this child, now known as Laura, belongs to me."
"That's not the way we read it, Hoggy. Your claim is for the Burkes' firstborn son, who no longer exists. Laura is a sworn member of the Light's Order now, and beyond your reach. Nowhere in the Pact did you make provision for a substitution or even a retaliation for not delivering the said firstborn son," Pat said. Both Fidge and I applauded.
Hogranth laughed. "Very funny, boys, but I will not be denied."
"Take my life force instead," Dad said. "We're the ones who started this, and we are the ones who cannot bear to see our child given to you, Lord Hogranth."
"But my dear sir, your life force is already mine, so you have nothing to bargain with." Hogranth walked over to me. "Mr. and Mrs. Burke, I am still rather annoyed by your pitiful efforts to hide your son from me. She is now very pretty, but still canine. I command you to break the spell you cast to make her canine. That will also restore her to male form, and your firstborn son will once more be bound by our agreement."
"And if we refuse?" Dad said.
"I will kill both of you, as is my right, then I will break that spell myself."
"Break the spell, Dad. I'm ready."
My parents looked at me, then at each other. "No. We will not turn any of our children over to you."
Hogranth slapped Dad right across the face. "No," I screamed before I let out a low growl.
"Laura, DON'T!" Pat screamed, but too late.
The arch-demon turned his attention back to me as I jumped for him. I opened my jaws and aimed for his throat. No one was going to get away with harming my family. The force of my attack knocked the man flat on his back. Seconds later, as soon as I was completely a Shepherd again, I lowered my head and bit into the demon's throat.
Something exploded in a flash of black then white lights.
8.
Ouch. Sudden pain jarred me awake. I kept my eyes closed as I tried to move. Something held me down, and I swore licked my nose. I opened my eyes to find myself lying on my side, still a dog. I looked up into the huge face of a timber wolf.
"Well, hello gorgeous," the wolf said, and gave my nose another lick.
"Don't mind him, girl friend, he thinks he's God's gift to females."
I focused in a red fox sitting a few paces behind the wolf. I growled and bared my fangs for a second. "Sorry, where. What?"
"Don't worry about the growl," the wolf said. "Paula has that effect on everyone."
"Big talk, wolf boy. I'm Paula and this big oaf is Davey. We're the Canine Club so to speak."
"Oh, right, you're Tammy's wolf aren't you?"
"In a manner of speaking," Davey said. "It's Tommy again, and you have been out of it for the last week and a half."
"What happened?" I asked.
"I can answer that."
I looked up to see Pat and I wagged my tail. "Uh, hi."
"I tried to tell Hoggy not to mess with your family. You are a German Shepherd after all, but would he listen? Not him."
"Did I kill him?"
"As much as you can kill an arch-demon, yes, you did. He will probably reform in a century or two, but for now Hogranth is no longer a player. Your family is free of him, as are you, although there are some complications."
With a shake of my head, I stood up. "Such as?" I didn't really want to hear the answer.
"You gave everything you had defending your father as you did. When that built-up power of the Light touched the arch-demon it exploded leaving you powerless and a dog."
"I'm stuck like this?"
"For the foreseeable future, I'm afraid. It was your power that Carolyn used to make you a human again after the first change, and until that power can rebuild..."
"It's not that bad," Davey offered.
"That's why Tommy called in Dr. Conley and these two," Pat continued. "He thought having other members of the Canine Club around might help you adjust. Then again," Pat said and dropped to all fours as a German Shepherd. "So can I."
"But won't the Lord of Light object?" I asked licking his nose.
"He might, but this won't be the first time he's lost his patience. I don't mean to be rude, guys, but if you will excuse us?"
"Well, we can take a hint," the fox said and stormed off with a sweep of her brush.
"Man, this is so unfair. For once I find a female worth talking to, and I don't even get a chance. Later."
I gave the new Shepherd a nip on the shoulder. "Well, it's going to take a lot of effort to get me comfortable with this shape."
Pat laughed and nipped me back. "So it will, and the sooner we get started the better."