Chapter 3, Part 1: Orion

“I’m upset, Katrina,” Rion said.
“Yeah, I know,” Katrina said. “Those Dryad piss me off, too. We save their asses from mind-controlling brain slugs, and their idea of a reward is not killing us? Some gratitude.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Rion said, moving up in front of Katrina and facing her, causing her, Wearwolf, and Jaime to come to a stop. They were all covered from head to toe with the violet effluvia of the pendulum Terrasite Katrina had just slain. Katrina was the only one not completely covered, just on her biceps, thighs, midsection, and face, the only parts not covered by Wearwolf’s armor form when the Terrasite exploded. “Tradition allows you to have an escort during the final trial of the Rite of Initiation. You promised to take me with you, and then you went alone! What the Hell, Katrina? What the Hell?”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Katrina said a little sheepishly. She glanced away and scratched her head. “Look, first of all, I didn’t promise anything. All I said was if I had to take someone, it’d be you, and that I’d consider it. When I thought about it later, it just didn’t seem like a good idea. I’m capable of taking care of myself in a forest, probably better than you can, and the only reason you wanted to come with me was because of that stupid old wife’s tale.”
“It’s not just some old wife’s tale,” Rion protested pointedly. “When two people share in the Rite of Initiation, their fates become intrinsically sealed. Look at Roger and Becky!”
The scowl Katrina wore was more than enough to make Rion regret the analogy. She walked around him in a huff. He hopped in front of her again, walking backwards in step with her as the other two followed.
“Okay, bad choice of words,” Rion said. “But you have to admit it’s the perfect example. He just happened to run into her during his Rite, and now, just two years later, they’re married! How can you say it’s just an old wife’s tale?”
“Especially when you’re the superstitious one?” Jaime added.
“I am not superstitious,” Katrina protested. “Just as many couples have walked in together and came out no more romantically linked than before. Some even become bitter enemies. Including twins, might I ad, Rion and Jaime.”
“They’re the exceptions that prove the rule,” Rion explained.
“Exceptions disprove rules, right Jaime?” Katrina countered. Not waiting for her say anything, she continued, “Fate is fate. It’s not changed or even strengthened by completing the Rite of Initiation with someone else, no matter how much you love them. If they fall deeper in love during the final trial, its because they’re the kind of people who fall deeply in love in that kind of situation. Destiny is not some story written in a book eons ago by a man with a long, white beard that can be revised or rewritten later. Its all cause and effect. Their fates were intrinsically entwined long before they entered that forest.”
“Okay, so if you didn’t believe in it, what would you have had to lose from taking him with you?” Jaime inquired. “Besides your freedom?”
Katrina stopped and sighed. “Fine. So maybe I was a little afraid that taking Rion would ultimately keep me from becoming a Chimera Knight. It’s not exactly something you can study for in your spare time over the internet while taking care of a baby. But what I really didn’t want was for Rion to get hurt. You guys heard what happened, right?”
“You did only come back just last night,” Jaime replied. “But it spread around pretty fast, so we got the gist of it.”
“Something about a gang of bandits that tried to rape you or something,” Rion added.
“Uh, yeah,” Katrina said uncertainly. “That sounds about right.”
“That is very much an exaggeration,” Wearwolf said. “There was just the one man. And he most certainly did not try to rape you.”
“Anyway,” Katrina continued, “That was a very dangerous situation. Rion could’ve gotten hurt or killed. Wearwolf and I were lucky to have survived with just a few cuts and bruises.”
“I could’ve protected you,” Rion argued. “And I so would’ve taken care of that baby!”
“I couldn’t let you raise a child on your own!” Katrina insisted. “And that baby would need a… Why am I having this discussion? Look, Rion, the point is, I care about you too much to let you get hurt over me, and I’m not ready to share something that personal and profound with you. Maybe I will one day, but not today, and definitely not yesterday.”
“Fine,” Rion said with a sigh. “But don’t expect me to stop. I’ll find a chink in that armor of yours yet.”
“Pantheon, you remind me of me,” Katrina said in an exasperated tone. “Okay, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll escort you on your Rite, and I’ll prove you wrong by not falling madly in love with you.”
“That sounds like a wager to me,” Rion said with a smirk. He held out his hand. “I’ll take that action.”
“It’s on, then,” Katrina said, accepting the hand and shaking it. “When we come back from it, I’ll be no more in love with you than I am with Jaime.”
“Whoa, hey, if you’re going to go around tempting fate, leave me out of it,” Jaime said. “I’m going on that Rite too, you know.”
“You should’ve taken your time being born, then,” Katrina quipped. She attempted to let go of Rion’s hand, only to find them glued together. “Ugh, god dammit.”
“Ha! It’s an omen!” Rion declared, tightening his grip. “You’re stuck with me!”
“You wish,” Katrina said. “Now start pulling.”
* * *
Rion lay on his bed, his eyes open, his hand resting on the alarm clock. The ringing it made for less than a second had been stopped. He reached for the lamp and turned it on so he could see his dream journal. For a moment, he pondered what was reality and what was fiction. He had long since achieved the ability to dream lucidly, thanks to his diligent work in recording them into the journal. He could recall his dreams every bit as well as any real memory, but it still paid to write them down while they were still fresh in his mind.
The Dryad Sanctuary… The pendulum parasite queen… The mandrake… That all happened, right? Was it all a dream, or maybe a vision? No, it was real. A lucid dream was whatever he wanted, and he wanted more than what happened yesterday. So he dreamed it, also. He was more dashing and courageous the second time around. Defeated the pendulum all by himself, too. Katrina was quite appreciative, as well. Rion was almost embarrassed to write it down in his journal.
“Good dream?” Jaime asked from her bed across the loft.
“Pretty good,” Rion answered as he wrote. “But I think there’s room for improvement.”
“Rion, do you think two people who have the same dream can meet each other there?” Jaime asked.
“About as likely as twins reading each other’s minds,” Rion replied. A moment later, he said, “I heard that.”
Jaime stuck out her tongue at him playfully. She got up, straightened out her nightshirt, and sat at her nearby desk. After rummaging around a bit, she got out a pad and pencil and started drawing.
“You’re not using your computer?” Rion inquired.
“I wanted to get this down before I forgot about it,” Jaime said. She scrutinized the drawing for a moment before erasing part of it and redrawing. “I wish I was a little better at this…”
“What is it?” Rion asked. He got up and looked over her shoulder. “A spider?”
“A mechanical spider,” Jaime corrected. “It came to me in a dream. This is going to be my MultiPet partner.”
“So you’re actually going to try and build one?” Rion noted. “Where are you going to get the parts?”
“I dunno, the internet or something,” Jaime said. “I’ll figure something out.”
“I doubt you’ll be able to finish it before our Rite,” Rion said.
“I’ll figure something out,” Jaime repeated.
“Best of luck to ya,” Rion said.
Rion put his journal away and started down the rigging into the living room. It was about time their mother called them down to do chores, anyway. He hadn’t intended to be stealthy, but the sound of hushed voices urged him to make as little noise as possible. His parent’s bedroom door was open a crack, and they were still inside it. A little odd for them at this hour, as their mother always woke them up well before dawn to keep their ship-shaped house in ship-shape. He hung from the rigging like a monkey, straining to hear what they were talking about.
“So, this be it, then?” he heard his father say. “We be doin’ this fer sure?”
“Aye, I think it finally be time, Robert,” his mother, Jessica replied. She sounded quite resolute, but it took her a moment to say it.
“Do ye think, or do ye know?” Robert asked warily. There was silence for a moment, then he continued, “There must be no hesitation, Captain. If ye have any doubts…”
“Yar, I know, I know,” Jessica interrupted. “I jus’ wish there be more time, is all. ‘Tis been nearly sixteen years, and we ain’t gettin’ no younger. I can nay wait much longer, but…”
“Aye,” Robert agreed. “The wee ones, but they be wee no longer. They be adults soon, and will be on their own anyway before ye know it.”
“But they still be our children,” Jessica said sadly. “No matter how old they get they’ll still be my babies. I still want to be there for them. I want to see me grandchildren.”
“Raising them has made us soft, Captain,” Robert said. “If we go, we must abandon all sentiment and think like true pirates. If we stay, we must abandon the sea forever and give no thought to what happened before we came here.”
“I can never forget what happened before,” Jessica said firmly. “Not while he still lives. Not while they both still live. My soul and my shame remain there, but my heart remains here.”
Robert sighed, “Ultimately, the decision be yours to make, Captain. Whatever we decide, we may always wonder what would’ve been. There is still much time. I will await your orders.”
Rion scrambled up the rigging and Robert opened the door. He threw himself on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Mentally, he debated whether or not he should write down what he had heard so he could try to make sense of it later. Did he hear what he thought he heard? Was this really happening? Could this be a dream and he just didn’t realize it?
“Rion?” Jaime started, but Rion held up a hand to silence her. In the quiet, they could hear footsteps from down below. Jaime sat on his bed and whispered, “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Rion replied. He didn’t want to trouble her with what he just heard. He needed time to come to grips with it himself first. He was worried enough for the both of them. Telling Jaime could overwhelm the both of them, and he didn’t want to let on that he was eavesdropping.
Downstairs, Jessica and Robert stared up at the loft.
“They usually be down by now,” Jessica noted quietly.
“Should we call them down?” Robert asked.
“Nay,” Jessica answered. “Let’s let them sleep in a while. I’m feeling particularly soft and sentimental today.”

Chapter 2, Part 6: Sanctuary Epilogue

It was early evening when Katrina and Wearwolf arrived at home, still sticky with the blood and guts of the otherworldly creature they fought at the Dryad Sanctuary. Her shoes squelched sickeningly as they walked across the living room floor. The violet goop had since dried and became a purple gunk that made Wearwolf‘s fur stick together in clumps.

“Welcome home, dear,” her mother said, sitting in an easy chair with her Mysticat on her lap and a cup of chamomile tea in her hands. Without looking directly at her, she asked, “Have a good time?”

“Yeah, totally,” Katrina replied, picking at the gunk in her ponytail. “Especially the part where the monster exploded and sprayed its guts everywhere. I don’t think I’ll be eating jelly again any time soon. Of course, the worst part is when you walk home in it and it dries all over you.”

“At least most of you is still clean,” Wearwolf complained. “You would be dripping with this substance yourself if you were not wearing me. I am covered from head to tail.”

“Is your fur dry-clean only?” Katrina asked jokingly.

“I am afraid I do not grasp your meaning,” Wearwolf said, his head tilted curiously to the side.

“Nevermind,” Katrina said.

“I bought doggy shampoo for Wearwolf,” mother said, smirking amusedly to herself. She took a sip of her tea. “But I’m afraid it’ll take something a little stronger to remove Terrasite gel once its dried. I’ve left some turpentine next to the shower for you.”

“Thanks Mom,” Katrina replied with a smile. “I’d kiss ya, but I don’t want to get you all sticky.”

“Much appreciated,” mother said.

“Wait, Terrasite?” Katrina noted. “Is that what the thing we fought was called?”

“I’m afraid so,” mother replied, taking another sip of her tea. “I’d keep that name under your hat for now. It’s going to cause some commotion in the near future.”

“Mind-controlling parasites?” Katrina commented as she and Wearwolf walked to the bathroom. “I can’t see that not causing a commotion. I can see the headlines now: ‘Invasion of the Body-Jackers!’ I‘m telling you, we‘re going to have to find these things and take them out before they get out of hand.”

“Nothing to worry about for now, my dear,” mother said calmly. “They won’t be a real threat for quite some time and official investigations are already underway. The Chimera Knights are going to make this a top priority.”

“Really? Cool,” Katrina remarked before closing the bathroom behind her.

Deciding Wearwolf’s took precedence, Katrina spent over an hour in the shower with him discovering that normal shampoo was more or less totally ineffective against the remains of the Terrasite. She was making good headway with the turpentine when her mother walked in with the cordless phone.

“It’s for you,” mother said.

“Oh, thanks,” Katrina replied, turning off the shower and putting the phone to her ear. “Hel-”

The phone immediately rang, causing Katrina to cringe and nearly drop the phone. She glared at her mother, who was already walking away, laughing. She growled slightly and pressed the talk button. “Hello?”

“Did she do that trick where she…?” Jaime’s voice from the other end began.

“Yeah,” Katrina replied. “I keep falling for that stupid joke every time.”

“That’s so cool,” Jaime said. “Though you really should make sure there’s an actual call on the line before you try to answer it.”

“She only does it when she knows I’ll fall for it,” Katrina said, sitting down on the edge of the tub. “One of the hazards of living with an oracle, I guess. So, what’s so important that you had to interrupt my shower?”

“You’re still cleaning that stuff off?” Jaime asked. “I went straight for the paint thinner.”

“Whatever,” Katrina said. She held the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she took a turpentine-filled rag to Wearwolf’s fur. “What’s up?”

“I analyzed the sample I took of the creature,” Jaime said. Katrina could hear the clacking of computer keys over the line. “Something definitely created it, and fairly recently. Its virobot count is way too high for it to have evolved naturally, even on our world.”

“So it’s man-made?” Katrina inquired. “A genetic experiment gone awry?”

“Humans are the most likely,” Jaime said. “I don’t want to rule out Nymphs - indigenous s entient beings like the Dryad or the Nereid, hyper-intelligent MultiPets, renegade AI, or intergalactic aliens.”

“The usual suspects,” Katrina joked. “Do Nymphs even have that level of technology?”

“Who knows,” Jaime replied. “All available data on them are just speculation and hearsay. They could have hyper-dimensional cities hidden in the trees for all we know.”

“When you say ‘fairly recently,’ what do you mean?” Katrina asked. “A week? A month?”

“Hard to determine with what I’ve got,” Jaime answered. “But I think we’re looking at six months to a year. Maybe more.”

“Six months!?” Katrina exclaimed, straightening up. Noting the phone still stuck to her ear, she added, “Ew…”

“What?” Jaime asked.

“I think I’m going to need to clean this phone off now,” Katrina replied. She ignored it for the moment as she went on. “But six months? Do you realize how much damage body-jacking parasites could do in six months?”

“I only said it was created that long ago,” Jaime explained. “It could’ve been locked up in a lab or something until maybe a week ago. Who knows. The Dryads were probably just the first phase or test or something. I searched the news sites and didn‘t see anything about mind-control parasites like we saw. Not from any reputable sources at least.” Jaime sighed. “I’ll know more when I finish my analysis, but that could take a long time. These virobots aren’t exactly open-source, and my facilities are extremely limited. I’m going to send a sample and my findings to the relevant agencies when I get a chance.”

“Mom says there’s already a government investigation,” Katrina said. “Maybe you should check the government websites.”

“I’ll try,” Jaime said. “I don’t suppose she gave you any other search terms I could use?”

“Terrasites,” Katrina said. “But don’t let that get around. It could be classified.”

“Yeah, we don’t want to escape the wrath of Dryads just to disappear into a black van,” Jaime said. “How do you spell ‘Terrasites‘? Is that like ‘Parasites‘ with a ‘T,’ or does it start like ‘Terror‘?”

“How should I know?” Katrina replied. “You want me to ask?”

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” Jaime said. “I’ll call you back as soon as I find something.”

“Thanks,” Katrina said. She forcibly removed the phone from her goop-covered ear and pressed the hang-up button. She put the phone on the counter and went back to cleaning Wearwolf.

“That sounded like a productive conversation,” Wearwolf said.

“Yeah,” Katrina said, scrubbing behind Wearwolf’s ear. “So I guess tomorrow we should find another sanctuary and get rid of the Terrasites there, too.”

“That may not be necessary,” Wearwolf said. “The Dryad are not without their resources. They should be able to handle the Terrasites on their own.”

“If you say so,” Katrina said. “But I’d really like to know for sure.”

“As would I,” Wearwolf said. “But I have enough faith in them not to risk your life on an investigation.”

“I know,” Katrina said. “But what I want to know is, do the Terrasites just want the Dryads, or will the come after us next?”

Chapter 2, Part 5: We Will Be Greeted as Liberators! Destroy the Parasite Pendulum!

Looking back at Katrina was her own face, reflected back at her in a huge, glistening eye set into a churning, violet mass. It was one of many, arranged like a ball atop a giant, upside-down horn like a ice cream cone, the closest of which were trained directly at her. The rest darted about with paranoid twitching motions. The bizarre creature hung from the sanctuary ceiling from a twisting, sinewy, violet cord as thick as a tree that pulsed with viscous juices that Katrina cared not to think about.

“Guys,” Katrina said, backing away slowly, “I think we found mama.”

“I don’t suppose we can reason with it?” Jaime inquired.

The bizarre creature swung back on its cord until it creaked with tension. Then, pivoting its horn towards the trio, swung at them at full force. The three of them scattered as it blew past.

“I think it’s safe to assume we can’t,” Rion replied.

The creature swung upwards until its cord went slack. It then turned its horn downward and cut through the air as it descended. Its trajectory sent it straight towards Katrina, who turned and ran from it. It swung around again, yet again angling towards Katrina. She fled again, only to find it swinging after her.

“Amazing,” Jaime said, adjusting her glasses. “This parasite attacks like some sort of pendulum, but with perfect control over its swing trajectory. Furthermore, not only can it use its horn to impale Katrina, but its also using it cut down on wind resistance in order to…”

“Just shut up and shoot it already!” Katrina cried out as she ran past her. She had dropped to all fours to take advantage of Wearwolf’s leg muscles and run faster.

“Whoops, right,” Jaime replied, shielding her skirt from the gust as the pendulum parasite swung by her. She brought up her Reagan and twisted the dial. “I think this is a good time for the ‘Kill’ setting.”

“No, you might hit something else, like Katrina,” Rion said, trying aim at Katrina’s pursuer. “Keep it on Stun until you actually hit it, then kill it while its stunned.”

Jaime dialed her Regan back and took aim at the pendulum. However, Katrina’s running back and forth made it difficult to land a hit without shooting something else.

“Can’t you run in a more predictable pattern?” Jaime demanded. “Like a big circle or something? It’s hard to line up a shot with it moving at random like this!”

“Maybe you’d like me to get it to hold still?” Katrina snapped. “Maybe it’ll even pose for you!”

Katrina swerved to the side, with the pendulum quickly following, and ran around in as wide a circle as she could. Rion and Jaime stood alongside her path and aimed where they expected the pendulum to go. Snaps of thunder sounded as the creature swung past them, the echoes of the Reagans discharging energy. The pendulum parasite broke off its pursuit of Katrina and swung for Rion and Jaime instead.

“I think we only made it mad!” Rion exclaimed as they leapt out of the way.

“Katrina, if we sever the cord that binds it to the ceiling, we may render it immobile,” Wearwolf suggested.

“That means we have to touch it, right?” Katrina asked apprehensively.

“I am afraid so,” Wearwolf replied.

“Ew,” Katrina said with a shudder. “But it’s so… eyebally…”

Nonetheless, Katrina dashed towards the pendulum parasite as it swung towards Jaime. She leapt onto it, grabbing the cord with one hand and groaning in disgust as her feet touched its eyeballs. She tore into the cord with the claws of her free hand, eliciting painful squeals from the creature. The pendulum parasite quickly retracted up to the ceiling, forcing Katrina to jump off before it reached the top.

“That’s definitely a weak spot,” Rion noted.

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” Jaime said, fiddling with her Reagan again. “If we set our weapons to maximum, we can incinerate the monster in one shot. Of course, we’ll only get one shot, since this’ll use up all the Reagan’s energy.”

“That is madness!” Wearwolf exclaimed.

“I know,” Katrina replied. “Jaime, we can’t do that. That thing’s web is stretched all across the sanctuary. A shot that strong will not only burn up the webbing, but everything attached to it will catch fire and the resulting inferno will probably kill everyone in here, including us! And there’s no telling how far the forest fire will spread!”

“Well, we gotta do something, right?” Jaime argued. “We’re pretty much trapped in here now, and those zombie brain parasites aren’t going to be restricted to the sanctuary for very long. That pendulum monstrosity could be regenerating up there or just simply biding its time until we have our guard down…”

“Like right now!” Rion cried out. “Duck!”

Rion and Jaime managed to leap out of the way, but Katrina was blindsided. The pendulum parasite knocked her off her feet and sent her rolling across the sanctuary floor. She was dazed for a moment, but when she opened her eyes again the pendulum parasite was poised to run her through like a giant scorpion. She found herself frozen, transfixed by the giant spear before her.

Then she heard something under her moan. She had landed on her back, right on top of the mandrake she was carrying. The dryad child was rapidly approaching reality, and it wasn’t going to be very happy when it woke up. Katrina didn’t know which would be a worse fate: Being speared by a giant parasite or having her head exploded by a screaming mandrake. It was quite likely she would experience both.

“Oh, Hell,” Katrina exclaimed. She could feel the mandrake shifting uncomfortably under her. The parasite may have come to the same conclusion she had, as it was now beginning to pull back. “Guys… You might want to cover your ears.”

She could hear the mandrake gasp as it finally opened it’s eyes and saw what was all around them. At the same time, the parasite lashed out, barreling towards them. Katrina covered her ears, closed her eyes, and braced for the inevitable conclusion.

Katrina could feel the scream more than she heard it. It started as a high-pitched squeal and quickly left audible range. Sound waves pulsed through everything unhindered. When Katrina didn’t feel her brains oozing out of her ears, she opened her eyes.

The parasite was seemingly frozen in place, vibrating rapidly. Its eyes rolled about in their sockets and began to bulge like over-inflated balloons. The cord that held it and living walls all around them were twitching and convulsing like mad. Similarly, the dryads were wailing, doubled over in pain, clutching their ears as the pitch increased.

“The creature is immobilized,” Wearwolf noted urgently. “We must slay it before it can recover.”

“Right!” Katrina confirmed, climbing to her feet. Using her claws, she quickly climbed up the wall and, when she decided she was at a suitable height, dove claws-first into the parasite. “I’m calling this one… MANDRAKE’S SCREAMING CLAW!”

Katrina landed on the parasite, her arm plunging elbow-deep into the creature’s eye. The mandrake gave one last burst of air, and the rest of the pendulum parasite’s eyes exploded like watermelons, spraying violet gook everywhere in vicious geysers. The rest of the head exploded immediately there after, showering even more gooey bits over everyone and causing the horn to land heavily on the ground with a dull thud. Soon, the cord was like an out of control fire hose, violently expelling a steady stream of violet viscera that knocked Rion and Jaime off their feet and painting them with gelatinous entrails.

This went on for about half a minute until the spray died down to a trickle. Then, just when everyone thought it was finally through, the ceiling exploded into its own viscous deluge. This was followed by the walls, cascading into violet waterfalls, and even the floor erupted into the air. Katrina put her arms up, vainly defending herself from wave after wave of pasty slime. The explosions spread out to the rest of the sanctuary, detonating each and every strand and undulating mass within it. Similarly, all the horns stuck to the dryads’ heads flew off in a violet spray.

As the gelatinous downpour died down, Katrina found herself lying on her back, coated in the parasite’s former innards, and staring up at a sparkling, blue sky. Everything else was indecipherably buried beneath dripping layers grotesque gristle. As the sunlight glistened off every inch of the greasy, grimy parasite guts, Katrina was heard to say, “I think I’m going to hurl.”

“I think I already did,” Rion said, spitting repeatedly in disgust as he got up. “Either that, or I got some of it in my mouth.”

“That was fascinating,” Jaime remarked, getting up and flicking the goop off of her hands. “Can we go home now?”

Rion and Jaime helped Katrina up. Wearwolf popped off her, returning to his normal canine form and leaving clean spots on her clothes. She wiped some of the violet gunk out of her eyes and commented, “This stuff feels so gross.”

“Try cleaning it off with your tongue,” Wearwolf replied. “That is not an experience I am looking forward to.”

“What happened to the dryad?” Jaime asked.

Katrina looked around. All the dryad that were surrounding them earlier had disappeared. Even the mandrake that Katrina was carrying on her back had vanished. All that was left of them were dryad-shaped impressions in the gunk where they had fallen down. There were no foot prints, hand prints, or even disturbances in the impressions to indicate any sort of path or movement.

“That’s weird,” Rion said as he attempted to brush some of the gunk off him. Jaime, meanwhile, had knelt down and was scooping some of the gunk into a small plastic bag.

“So much for being greeted as liberators,” Katrina said. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a sample,” Jaime explained. “Maybe I can analyze this stuff when I get home, maybe figure out who made that thing.”

“It would appear that we have company,” Wearwolf said.

“Uh, Jaime,” Katrina said. “Don’t look now, but…”

Jaime looked up. Not inches in front of her was the mandrake they had brought, similarly covered in slime as they were. Startled by the site, Jaime fell back onto her butt.

“wE wanT tO thanK yoU,” the mandrake said. Her voice was oddly stressed, as if it were being played back backwards. “weaRwolF, yoU aRe weLcoMe bacK heRe anYtiMe.”

“I am honored,” Wearwolf said.

“That’s cool,” Rion remarked.

“youR hUmaN friendS wilL bE aLloweD tO leaVe witH theiR liveS,” the mandrake continued. “buT iF theY rEturN, theY wilL bE killeD oN sighT.”

“What?” Katrina exclaimed. “We nearly kill ourselves trying to save your people, and we don’t get so much as a thank you?”

“dO noT miSuNdeRstanD,” the mandrake explained. “iF wE weRe noT graTefuL, yoU woulD bE deaD bY noW. buT wE stilL wilL noT aLloW hUmaN treSpasSerS. wE wilL noT maKe eXcePtionS jusT bEcauSe wE liKe yoU.”

The mandrake looked around, then leaned forward, gesturing (albeit somehow backward) for them to lean in closer.

“coNfiDeNtiaLlY,” she said, “I woulD noT minD seEinG yoU alL aGaiN. I aM suRe yoU caN coMe bacK; yoU jusT caNnoT coMe iN.”

“That’s a little inexplicable,” Jaime said. “But thank you, creepy, backwards-talking dryad girl.”

The mandrake smiled and said, “yoU aRe weLcoMe creEpY, bacKwardS-talKinG hUmanS.” With that, she turned and ran off, disappearing into the trees.

“We talk backwards?” Katrina noted.

“Eye of the beholder, I guess,” Rion shrugged. “Or, in this case, ear.”

Chapter 2, Part 4: The Corrupted Sanctuary

In contrast to the terrifying mystery of the woods on a stormy night, the day time hike through the dewy groves of Dionysus Forest was like a stroll through a svelte paradise. The sunlight glittered off the wet foliage in a sparkling haze as Katrina’s feet sloshed through the mud. As the hike wore on, the dew dried off and the trees conspired to darken the non-existent paths. She was feeling good as Wearwolf led her, Rion and Jaime towards the Dryad sanctuary, at least at first. She could feel Wearwolf’s unease as they drew closer. It wasn’t just that Wearwolf had been told not to enter the sanctuary, or even that the Dryad would no doubt treat them like hostile invaders. Something felt wrong.

“Wearwolf, what’s up?” Katrina asked.

“This place feels different than I remember,” Wearwolf replied. “A Dryad sanctuary is supposed to be calm and peaceful, yet the closer we get the greater the sense of dread and foreboding. Something has changed, most likely for the worse.”

“You’re right, it’s too quiet,” Katrina said.

“Now that you mention it, I think it’s been a couple clicks since I’ve heard the birds sing,” Rion said, shifting the Dryad child in his arms. She dozed against his chest like a newborn baby. “The insects are gone, too.”

“Maybe we should turn back, after all,” Jaime said. “This place is getting really creepy.”

“Are you sure we’re going to right way?” Katrina asked.

“I have no doubts as to where I am leading you,” Wearwolf said. “The Dryad sanctuary is definitely in this direction. It is the atmosphere the concerns me. It tells me trouble is ahead.”

“My gut’s telling me we’re not going to like what we find,” Katrina said.

“I always figured the forest would get more ethereal-looking the closer we got to the sanctuary,” Rion said. “Instead, it just seems more… decrepit.”

“Yeah, I feel like we’re heading into a murky swamp or something,” Jaime added.

“It should be just past those trees,” Wearwolf said. “Are you sure you wish to continue? It is not too late to turn back.”

“Not really,” Katrina admitted. “But I’m not about to back down just because I’m scared. Never have, never will. If I’m going to be a Chimera Knight, I must be able venture into the fray without hesitation.”

“Of course, there’s something to be said about common sense,” Jaime muttered.

The difference between the rest of the forest and the sanctuary itself was subtle. The trees and shrubbery merely seemed to huddle together more, as if trying to form into larger plants or walls. Someone with an eye for landscaping or floral arrangement or even mathematics might be able to discern the purposeful aesthetic that goes right down to the shape of the moss instead of what appears to be a naturally random pattern of growth. However, what was readily apparent made the creepiness value skyrocket. It was as if a giant, diseased spider had taken up residence in the grove. Gooey, violet strands stretched between each and every tree, rock, and bush, and where the strands met anything was a bulbous, undulating mass. It was far more alien than they expected, the kind of alien that hides in air ducts and lays eggs in your stomach. As they tenuously stepped around them, Katrina half-expected to be dragged off into the darkness by a monstrous tentacle. Decidedly not something she was looking forward to.

Laying about the forest floor like toys abandoned by a child were the Dryad. They were like the mandrake Rion was carrying, only larger and of all shapes and sizes; Bark-like skin, green plumage for hair, and, perhaps coincidentally, unconscious. As Wearwolf approached one of them, he could see yet another difference. In the middle of the Dryad’s forehead was small, white horn.

“I think it’s safe to say coming here was a bad idea,” Jaime said.

“That’s for the historians to decide,” Katrina said, kneeling down next to Wearwolf. “This isn’t right, is it?”

“It is decidedly wrong,” Wearwolf replied. “I cannot even begin to speculate as to what has transpired here, aside from what used to be a beautiful sanctuary has been transformed into… this. It is far from natural.”

“Are they dead?” Rion asked.

“No, they’re still breathing,” Jaime reported. “But what’s with the horns? No account has ever described them has having those.”

“They are not part of their natural physiology,” Wearwolf said.

“And they’re on the trees, too,” Katrina noted. “Maybe they’re some sort of insect?”

“I am not familiar with this form of invertebrate,” Wearwolf said. “Perhaps they are from another region.”

Jaime reached down to touch the horn. Just short of making contact, the Dryad suddenly snapped open its amber-colored eyes. The eyes moved slowly and directly to view each of the faces before them, yet they lacked any glimmer of awareness. Slowly, it sat up as if rising from its grave. Everyone quickly backed away.

“Uh, hello, good morning, or evening, or something,” Katrina said. She took the mandrake from Rion’s arms and held her up for Dryad to see. The others appeared to be waking up as well. “We brought your kid back. See? So, if you want, we’ll just set the kid down, slowly back out, and never return again. Okay?”

The Dryad were slowly rising to their feet, their expressionless faces unchanging. Dragging their feet, they began to shuffle towards the humans. Even more started shambling out from the trees.

“I fear handing over the child is not in our best interests,” Wearwolf said.

“They’re like zombies,” Jaime stated.

“I think it’s time to go,” Rion said. His Reagan whined to life as he armed it. Jaime got out her gun too and switched the safety off.

“We cannot leave yet,” Wearwolf said. “There is a strong scent similar to the horns in the center of the sanctuary. We must investigate.”

“What!?” Katrina exclaimed, tucking still-sleeping the mandrake under her arm. “That’s crazy!”

“What’s he want?” Rion asked. There was a loud snap as an electric beam struck out from his gun and knocked a Dryad down.

“He says there’s something deeper in he wants to see,” Katrina said.

“This isn’t exactly the best time for sight-seeing,” Jaime said, shooting down another Dryad. It slowly stood back up. “Dammit!”

“What now?” Katrina asked.

“We’re going to have to be more careful shooting them,” Jaime replied. “They keep getting back up.”

“So just knock them back down,” Katrina said.

“It’s not that easy, especially if we‘re trying not to hurt them,” Rion said. “In order to get back up from a stun blast like that so soon takes an enormous amount of strain on the body. If we just shoot them again, the shock could kill them.”

“No living creature could push itself like that,” Jaime said. “I think something else is doing the pushing for them.”

“Like a mind control parasite or something?” Katrina asked. “With a mother brain controlling them all?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a theory,” Jaime said. “If we could take out the central consciousness governing the parasites, it might take them all out in one shot.”

“Otherwise, we could be shooting at these guys long after their dead,” Rion added. “Assuming we’ve got enough energy for that.”

“Mother brain it is,” Katrina said. “But how’ll we get through the mob?”

“We can use Chimeric Fusion, like when we fought Rossiter,” Wearwolf said. “Then we can fight our way through.”

“But we’re still pretty banged up from last night,” Katrina said. “You sure you wanna try that?”

“I see no other alternatives,” Wearwolf said. “We must free them.”

“Then I guess it’s time for some Chimeric Fusion,” Katrina said, setting the Mandrake down. “How did we do that, again?”

“Just follow my lead,” Wearwolf said.

Katrina braced herself as Wearwolf began to glow. He shattered into several spheres of energy that gathered around Katrina’s body. They coalesced over her arms and legs, becoming clawed, fur-tufted gloves and boots. They merged over her torso, becoming furry shorts and vest. They settled over hear head, becoming a wolf-like hood. Wearwolf opened his eyes to a look of determination.

“Chimeric Fusion complete,” Wearwolf reported.

“Awesome,” Katrina said. She took the blankets wrapped around the mandrake and used it to strap her to her back. “You guys cover me. I’m going in.”

“Wait!” Rion called out. “Don’t just take her with… Oh, never mind…”

Rion and Jaime turned and fired into the crowd ahead of Katrina, attempting to make her progress as easy as possible as the twins followed her. Katrina was soon in the thick of it, knocking Dryad down and throwing them into each other.

“It is imperative that we do not harm them,” Wearwolf said. “They are not acting of their own accord.”

“I’m sure they’d understand,” Katrina said, flipping over one Dryad and tripping another. “It’s not like they’re leaving us much choice.”

Katrina slammed a shoulder into one of the Dryad and immediately regretted it. The pain from her injury forced her back off and cradle her shoulder. She probably would’ve been overwhelmed if it weren’t for some well-placed shots by Rion and Jaime.

As Katrina cursed to herself, she heard a quiet murmuring from the mandrake on her back. Half-asleep, the Dryad child gently placed a hand on Katrina’s shoulder and yawned. The pain in Katrina’s shoulder was soon replaced with a warm, tingling feeling.

“The Dryad have fantastic healing abilities,” Wearwolf said as the mandrake went limp and continued to snooze. “But it wears them out. We shouldn‘t rely on that too much.”

“But why use it now?” Katrina asked as she slammed a fist into the gut of another Dryad. “If she was awake enough to use it, why me?”

“Mandrake tend to be empathic,” Wearwolf explained. “She may have sensed the pain of the others and healed us because we were closer.”

Katrina and her friends continued to force their way to the center of the sanctuary. The violet gunk had become far more abundant and pulsated with an unsettling synchronicity. It contracted and rippled underfoot in organic, peristaltic waves. Katrina felt like it was trying to swallow her, digest her, absorb her.

“It’s here, isn’t it?” Katrina asked.

“Yes, the scent is strongest here,” Wearwolf replied.

“Something better be here,” Jaime said. “I don’t think we can go much farther.”

“Hey, I don’t think we’re being followed anymore,” Rion said.

Katrina looked around. Somehow she hadn’t noticed until just now, but the Dryad were now giving them a wide amount of space. In fact, they were gathered at all the visible exit points, staring at humans blankly.

“Okay,” Katrina said. “This is either really, really good, or really, really bad.”

“I vote bad,” Rion said.

“Bad,” Jaime agreed.

“This is indeed cause for concern,” Wearwolf said.

“That makes it unanimous,” Katrina said. “Whatever’s in has to be a lot more dangerous than a horde of Dryad-zombies. The question is: Where is it?”

“Katrina…” Rion warned, aiming his Reagan past her. Jaime had hers aimed at something behind Katrina. Katrina heard it before Rion had said anything. Stretching and gurgling and throbbing. There was an acrid, meaty smell as well, which she realized she had been sensing through Wearwolf’s nose. She turned slowly, knowing she wasn’t going to like what she was going to find.

Looking back at Katrina was her own face, a reflection in a huge, glistening eye set into a churning, violet mass. It was one of many, arranged like a ball atop a giant, upside-down horn like a ice cream cone, the closest of which were trained directly at her. The rest darted about with paranoid twitching motions. It hung from the sun-blocking web hanging atop the sanctuary from a twisting, sinewy, violet cord as thick as a tree that pulsed with viscous juices that Katrina cared not to think about.

“Guys,” Katrina said, backing away slowly, “I think we found mama.”

Hallowe'en Special '06

A flash of lightning. A crash of thunder. A deluge of rain. Four intrepid heroes; two girls, a boy, and a wolf, rush through the forest, making whatever futile efforts they can to stay dry. In the lead is the older girl with black hair in a white sweatshirt and blue jeans carrying a blue hiking backpack. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail and, incidentally, she is the tallest of the group. This is Katrina Arden, and following closely at her heels is a grey wolf, roughly five feet long and three feet tall at the shoulder. He is Wearwolf, so named because, though he may not look it, he can transform into living armor. Both had given up on protecting themselves from the rain and focused instead on finding a way out of it.

“Do we even know where we’re going?” That was Rion, the boy. He and his twin sister, Jaime, are only a few months younger than Katrina. Both twins possessed brown hair and blue eyes. Rion may be the most under dressed of the three humans, in his baggy shorts, white tee shirt and black vest and backpack, but he is the only one with a hood.

“Not really,” Katrina admitted, not breaking stride as the group hurried on their way. “If there’s a different random direction you’d prefer, lead the way.”

“Maybe we should pitch a tent or something,” Jaime suggested as the rain dripped off her spectacles. She wore an orange vest and a blue skirt and carried a white backpack.

“But we didn’t bring a tent,” Katrina replied.

“Yeah, solid planning, by the way,” Jaime said. Her arms were over her head in an attempt to keep the rain off. “But maybe we could build one out of our sleeping bags or something. We need some sort of shelter, right?”

“At the very least, we could stop running,” Wearwolf said. It was a voice only Katrina could hear, and only on an intuitive level. “If we exhaust ourselves, we will only become ill.”

“Fine,” Katrina said, slowing to a stop beneath a tree. The others followed suit. “There’s gotta be something like a cave or cabin or something around here, right?”

“I dunno,” Rion said. “We must be miles away from any sort of shelter. Although, there’s got to be something to hide under. I mean, animals do live out here.”

“Maybe,” Katrina said. “Hey, Wearwolf…?”

“Silence,” Wearwolf interrupted. He stared off into the distance. “Can you not hear that sound?”

“I don’t hear anything,” Katrina replied.

“There is something not far from here,” Wearwolf went on. “Something… strange… irresistible. I feel the need to investigate.”

“I’m feeling that, too, now that you mention it,” Katrina said apprehensively. “What is it?”

“What’s what?” Jaime asked.

“You don’t feel that?” Katrina asked. “Kinda tingly, all over the head? Kind of going over in waves, sorta feels like it’s coming from somewhere?”

“I don’t think I do,” Jaime replied.

“Me neither,” Rion added.

Katrina made a non-committal sound and put her hands in her pockets. Her shoes squelched in the mud as she and Wearwolf walked off into the trees. Not wanting to be left behind, Rion and Jaime soon followed. It was not long before they found a wrought iron fence and saw beyond the twisting gate the mansion that stood in silhouette against the lighting. The house was composed of towers radiating out from the main structure at odd angles like some dark, Victorian sunrise atop the hill. Flying buttresses seemed to tether them together, suspending them all from a central clock tower. The gate was an odd design as well, as all the twisting made it difficult to tell where one door ended and the other began. They seemed to interlock at interesting angles that twisted around each other in a perplexing form of near-three dimensionalness.

“I do believe this to be the place,” Wearwolf said. He pawed at the gate, attempting to find a way through. Katrina appeared a tad engrossed in the gate as well. She ran a hand across the framework, wondering where exactly she had seen this design before.

“Looks like there’s an intercom over here,” Jaime said, walking over to a gargoyle-laden stone pillar on one side of the gate. The device itself was held against the belly of a particularly chubby lizard creature. She pressed the button on it a couple times, half-expecting to hear a blood-curdling scream but only getting a harsh ringing.

After about a minute or so, a deep, nasally voice nearly whispered through the intercom, “Hello?”

“Uh, hi,” Jaime said, somewhat uncertainly. “We were wondering if you could let us in maybe?”

“Who is this?” the voice demanded.

“My name is Jaime Chardonnay,” Jaime replied. “My brother, Rion, and my friend, Katrina, and I were looking for a…”

“No visitors allowed,” the voice interrupted.

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but it’s raining Mysticats and Securidogs out here,” Jaime insisted. “We’re all soaking wet and we may die of pneumonia or something if we don’t get some shelter soon.”

“The master said that visitors are forbidden,” the voice insisted back.

“This place just gets more inviting all the time,” Katrina remarked.

“May we speak with the master of the house?” Rion inquired.

“The master is away at the moment,” the voice replied.

“When will the master return?” Rion asked.

“The master is not due back for a long time,” the voice answered.

“Then he certainly wouldn’t mind if you gave us poor lost souls some shelter from the rain,” Rion said. “Until it lets up, at least. Then we’ll be on our merry way and it’ll be like we were never here. Or you could explain to your master why there are pneumonia-ridden corpses clinging to the front gate.”

There was ponderous silence again for a moment. Then, just as they were wondering if the voice had chosen to ignore them, a loud buzz sounded as the gates disengaged from each other and parted before the group. Rion and Jaime rushed through them, but to Wearwolf and Katrina it felt like some seal had been broken and they were being sucked through the gates. It looked nothing like that, of course, and they merely walked in after the twins. As the gates closed behind them, Katrina felt as if the pressure around her had equalized. Things felt thicker on this side of the fence, and the consistency only increased as they approached the house. It was like quicksand in that the thickness didn’t inhibit their ingress or, if they were careful, their eventual escape.

The path up the hill to the house wasn’t particularly long, but it sure was windy. The grounds were like an outdoor museum of stone statues and topiaries, all made dark and heavy in the dripping gloom. The tell-tale sounds of rustling and the occasional darting shadow told Katrina that they were far from alone out here. The four of them quickly scurried under the awning over the front porch, where Wearwolf quickly shook the water out of his fur.

The door soon opened, releasing a flock of large bats into the air. Katrina, Rion, and Jaime jumped back and covered their heads in shock. The bats were followed by a stocky, bearded man waving a broom around. Once the bats were gone, the man let the broom hang by his side and turned towards his guest. A brown goat trotted up to his side.

“Fang Bats,” the man said in that same deep, nasally voice that had addressed them over the intercom. He wore a blue hat, pants, and jacket. “They are quite a nuisance to keep out of the house, especially this time of year.”

“Hi,” Jaime said, holding out a hand in greeting. “I’m Jaime, this is my brother Rion, our friend Katrina and her Wearwolf.”

“Yes, naturally,” the man said, turning around and heading back into the house. “Follow me, please.”

Though perturbed by the man’s coldness, the group followed him and his goat in. Once they were all inside, the man turned to address them again.

“My name is Sartre,” the man said. “And this is Tragoat. We watch the house while the master is away.”

“Naturally,” Katrina replied.

“I will lead you upstairs, where you may change out of your wet clothes,” Sartre explained dully. “If you require dry clothes, I will provide you with them. You are free to explore the grounds until the storm passes, but you are not to touch or disturb anything without my express permission and under no circumstances are you allowed within the clock tower or any other locked room. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the group replied.

“Good,” Sartre said. “Please, walk this way.”

The main hall was large and cavernous, not to mention poorly-lit. It was of an ostentatious design involving twin staircases that curved away from each other in the middle and met at either end. Floral arrangements had been placed at tasteful intervals, although the flowers themselves had long since wilted. Paintings of people, presumably those who had lived in this house and their relatives, adorned every wall. The images were difficult to make out in the gloom, and the infrequent lightning revealed an intuitive madness to each of them. Some had piercing eyes, others a deranged grin, although that may simply have been a trick of the light. A few suggested movement, drawing one to stare long and hard to make sure it didn’t.

“Hey, sis, did you see that one?” Rion said, stopping and pointing at a painting. “It looks just like you.”

“You sure?” Jaime asked. “She doesn’t look all that much like me. Actually, I think that’s a guy.”

“There’s no way that’s a guy,” Rion said. “It’s too feminine.”

“Maybe he’s just really effeminate,” Jaime said. “Some guys just look girly.”

“Still, it’s a pretty good likeness,” Rion said.

“No, it’s not,” Jaime said.

“Is there a power outage or something?” Katrina asked. “It’s rather dark in here.”

“The master has ordered a minimal use of electricity while he is away,” Sartre explained. “So I only use the lights sparingly, and only when it is far too dark to see. I would appreciate it if you would turn out the lights when you leave a room.”

Sartre and Tragoat first gave a room to Katrina and Wearwolf. Sartre switched on the light, the entire room practically exploding into a pink hue. Pink furniture, pink sheets, pink pillows, pink walls, pink carpeting, pink ceiling, even pink windows. The pink bed was a pink four-poster with a pink canopy and a pink, frilly lace screen. At the foot of the bed was a pink hope chest. Across from it was the largest pink vanity mirror and pink make-up table she had ever seen with hundreds of pink drawers and compartments that she could only assumed held pink make-up. A pink dollhouse sat between the pink curtains of the pink window, and in the pink corner was a pink computer with a pink monitor. Just next to the pink door was a large, pink television with all sorts of pink video game consoles. Lightning flashed, and everything lit up pink.

“Wow, it’s so… pink,” Katrina remarked in distaste.

“Is it?” Wearwolf asked.

“I think I’m going to go blind,” Katrina said. “Or vomit. Maybe both. Can I have a different room?”

“No,” Sartre said, quickly closing the pink door and moving onto the next room.

Jaime’s room was much different. At first, she thought she had been led into a bathroom. Just about every surface looked as though it were either made of marble or covered with linoleum tile. The bed was so porcelain-looking, it could’ve been a bathtub. It was almost the same layout as Katrina’s room, with a marble computer and video-game consoles, except instead of a doll house there were nude statues in every corner of the room. The canopy bed had nudes for bed posts, as well. In fact, most of the furniture appeared to have nude statuary incorporated into the design.

“Wow. I don’t know whether to be creeped out or turned on,” Jaime commented flatly. “Does this room have an adjoining bathroom?”

“No,” Sartre said as he closed the marble door.

“So, what sort of insanity is my room?” Rion asked half-eagerly.

“The worst kind,” Sartre said. He opened the door, revealing a tiny room, no bigger than a few square feet. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with all sorts of cleaning products, tools, and replaceable items like light bulbs. Larger tools, namely brooms and mops, stood leaning against the shelves. There was even a bucket with wheels on it.

“This looks like a broom closet,” Rion noted disappointedly.

“It is a broom closet,” Sartre replied. He tossed his broom in and closed the door. “Your room’s over this way.”

Rion could hear the ticking of a clock from the outside of the room. Certainly an annoyance, but he didn’t think one ticking clock would be much of a problem. The hundreds of clocks all over the room, all ticking and tocking and clicking and clacking in total disharmony with each other, however, was asking a bit much. It was like walking into a clock-maker’s bedroom. There were clocks of all kinds: Cuckoos and grandfathers, sundials and hourglasses, digital clocks and face clocks. Some were old, some were new, many seemed ancient. Most were simple, a few we complex, ornately crafted and designed to tell epic stories through little clockwork dolls every hour on the hour.

Rion presumed, for a moment, that perhaps Sartre had taken every clock in the house, and several from other houses, and moved them all into this room. If there was a place to conceivably put a clock, a clock had been put there. There were clocks on the ceiling, clocks on the bed, clocks on the chair, even clocks on top of clocks. There was so much clock, it was difficult to walk.

“Mind the clocks,” Sartre warned.

“Oh? Is there a clock in here?” Rion replied. He checked his watch. “I think this room is two minutes slow.”

“Do you want to get the rest of the jokes out of your system?” Sartre asked impatiently.

“Nah, I don’t think we have the time,” Rion said, scratching his head. “I better watch my step in here, or things could get out of hand. Tock about bad feng shui. This place is a ticking time bomb! Uh… that‘s all I can think of now. Maybe I‘ll come up with something later when this room drives me cuckoo.”

“Very well, then,” Sartre said. “My, look at the time. 5:59 already. I better check on dinner.”

Sartre slammed the door shut and ran off, prompting Rion to say, “Well, that can’t be goo-” before the room burst into a chaotic cacophony of gongs, bells, and bird calls.


“What is it about this room that makes me want to break stuff?” Katrina asked. She had detached the metal frame from her hiking backpack and used it as a rack to dry her clothes on. Her backpack was waterproof, so most of its contents were still dry. She laid out towels to keep the pink carpet from getting wet and quickly removed her wet clothes, revealing the vines tattooed on her skin that stretched from the coat of arms on her back to her knees and elbows.

“Perhaps the uniformity of it inspires chaos,” Wearwolf pondered from the bed where he lay. “The ridged concept of the room invites the occupant to introduce contrary elements, or maybe to seek out the chaos that lies beneath the surface.”

“Or maybe I just don’t like pink,” Katrina stated. She sat on the pink bed and picked up the pink television remote off the pink nightstand. Turning on the pink television, she flipped through the pink channels but found nothing but pink static. “No signal, huh? Must not be hooked up to anything except the game consoles.” She paused for a moment to scratch her foot, then turned back to the TV. “That’s weird.”

“What is weird?” Wearwolf asked, lifting his head up.

“The screen is still displaying static,” Katrina explained. She stood up and took a closer look. “Most televisions these days show a blue screen when there isn’t a strong enough signal, though I guess in this case it’d be a pink screen.”

“Maybe it is receiving a signal,” Wearwolf suggested.

“I dunno, it doesn’t look like anything,” Katrina said. She stepped back and turned up the volume. The hiss of static grated on their ears. “Does it sound like anything to you?”

“I think I hear moaning,” Wearwolf reported. “It is faint, but it is definitely coming from the television.”

“Like scrambled porno or something?” Katrina asked, leaning her face into the TV. Pink light glowed against her face. “Heh. I thought this room seemed too innocent to be true. Whoever usually sleeps here probably puts on a cute-and-girly act around other people, then puts on a hard-core skin flick when she’s all by herself. Their service provider must go to great lengths to scramble the signal, though. It still just looks like…”

Piercing, blue eyes sprang open in Katrina’s face. She yelped and stepped back, losing her footing and dropping to the floor.

“Are you all right?” Wearwolf asked, jumping off the bed and to her side.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Katrina answered, rubbing her backside. “I was just startled when the signal cut back in.”

“What signal are you referring to?” Wearwolf inquired.

“Didn’t you see it?” Katrina asked. The static noise had stopped. Looking at the screen, she just saw a glowing field of pink. “Oh, I could’ve sworn…”

“I do not doubt what you had witnessed,” Wearwolf said. “The sound I heard in the forest is much louder here. There is more to this place than meets the eye.”

“And what meets the eye is already weird enough,” Katrina added. She got up and pulled a pair of blue jeans and a tan camisole out of her backpack. “I want to get to the bottom of this. If this place is haunted, I want to know by what and why.”


Back in the marble room, Jaime had already changed into an outfit identical to what she was wearing before. Her wet clothes were draped over various pieces of free-standing statuary to give them some sense of decency. She paused for a moment, wondering if hanging underwear on a man’s genitalia could actually be considered decent.

Feeling a little curious, she decided to snoop around the room for a bit. She opened the marble wardrobe and a life-sized inflatable doll landed in her arms. A tad perturbed, she tossed it to the floor and inspected the linoleum-lined wardrobe. Aside from several coat hangers and a silk robe, it was empty.

Closing the door behind her, she turned and noticed that the clothes she had hung up had fallen on the floor. She sighed, picked them back up, and hung them again, this time with stability in mind rather than aesthetics.

Jaime decided she wanted to check out the nightstand. She moved the inflatable doll off the bed so she could sit there and opened the drawer. She paused for a moment. Didn’t she put doll on the floor?

She looked up and found that her wet clothes were in a pile on the floor. Odd, considering each article was on a different statue. Realizing there were better ways to hang clothing, she went back to the wardrobe to retrieve some hangers. The silk robe fell over her head as soon as she opened it. She hung it back on its hanger and gathered a few more.

Turning back to the room, she discovered the doll was laying in the bed under the covers. The sight startled her for a moment, but she quickly recovered and just scowled at it.

“Very funny,” she said, walking over to the bed. “Whoever you are, we’re going to have a serious discussion on pranks once I find you.”

She knelt down and looked under the bed. There was nothing. Not even a dust bunny. Sartre evidently left no stone unturned when it came to cleaning. Jaime stood up and found the doll was now sitting in the chair and wearing her clothes.

“Clever,” Jaime said, crossing her arms. “Is that some sort of commentary, or are you still trying to be creepy? Now get out here so I can see you.”

The room remained silent. She glanced around. There weren’t a lot of places to hide. She walked around the bed, checking behind the statues to make sure no one was hiding there. Not seeing anything unusual, she went back to the bed and discovered a large lump in the middle of it.

Now I’ve got you, she thought as she crept up to the bed. She quietly and slowly reached out and grabbed the sheet, pulling it off with a quick flourish.


“I don’t know what you had in mind by putting me in here,” Rion said, addressing Sartre but only talking to himself. Just moving in the room was precarious, but he managed to change into some dry clothes. The rest of his stuff he had placed carefully on top of the clocks. “So I hope you’re okay with this. Then again, you really only have yourself to blame. What else was I supposed to do?”

The ticking of all the clocks suddenly gave way to the sound of his sister screaming. He barreled out of his room and ran to Jaime’s. At her door, he was met by Katrina and Wearwolf as they ran up. They could hear the sounds of a struggle inside the room.

“I think Jaime’s in trouble,” Rion declared.

“Great minds think alike,” Katrina said. “We better break down the door.”

“Okay. Ready?”

“Let’s go on three. One… Two…”

“Wait… is the door even locked?”

Katrina opened the door and discovered Jaime on the floor trying to wrestle her way out of a bed sheet. It had wrapped around her awkwardly, and was only getting more tangled as she fought it. Katrina and Rion ran in and helped pull it off her.

“Get if off! Get it off!” Jaime screeched. As soon as it was off of her, she stood up and stomped on the sheet.

“Whoa, hey, I think you got it,” Rion said as he and Katrina pulled her away from it. “I don’t think it’s going to hurt you anymore.”

“Right, right, okay,” Jaime said, breathing a little slower. Then she whipped out her electron gun, which whined to life as it charged with energy. “But I better make sure!”

“Hey, hey! No!” Katrina exclaimed, trying to restrain Jaime. “No! Put that away! Now!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jaime said, loosening up again. She put her gun away and exhaled.

“What happened here?” Rion asked. “And why is that blow-up doll wearing your clothes?”

“Someone, or something, is trying to mess with me,” Jaime explained. “They moved stuff while I wasn’t looking. I thought they were hiding under the covers, but when I pulled off the sheet it attacked me.”

“The sheet,” Rion repeated, “Attacked you?”

“It wrapped around me, and started to glow and burn,” Jaime continued. “That’s when I screamed.”

“You don’t look burnt,” Rion said. “And neither does the sheet.”

“Well, it felt like I was burning,” Jaime said.

“That settles it,” Katrina said, crossing her arms. “This place is definitely haunted.”

“This place is not haunted,” Rion said.

“I agree,” Jaime said. “There is no such thing as ghosts.”

“But you just saw it for yourself,” Katrina said. She gestured to the sheet. “This blanket just tried to kill you.”

“I didn’t see anything,” Jaime said, adjusting her glasses. “I only know that things moved without my seeing who moved them. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“And what explanation would that be?” Katrina asked.

“I don’t know,” Jaime admitted. “But that does not automatically mean the reasons are supernatural. This could be the work of someone with an invisible MultiPet, like Channeleon, or a super-fast one like Blazerunner.”

“But those don’t live in this area,” Katrina said. “And, the TV in my room was showing static, and when I looked really close, a pair of eyes appeared and stared back at me.”

“That was your reflection,” Jaime said. “And why were you up close to the television?”

“I thought it might’ve been scrambled porn,” Katrina explained. The silence immediately following felt particularly awkward as Rion and Jaime stared at her in disbelief. “Well, I did. I mean, I was just trying to figure out if it was actually picking up a signal. I thought I was odd that it wasn‘t a blue screen. … Hey, don‘t judge me! I‘ve seen what takes up over a third of your hard drive!”

From outside the room, Sartre cleared his throat. “Dinner is served if you’re hungry.”

The dining room was practically a banquet hall. It was as long as a gymnasium, although not wide enough for more than the one table. A clever feat of architectural engineering created a forced perspective at one end, so that from there the room seemed over twice as long. The lighting was fairly dim, as Sartre was trying to keep electricity use to a minimum, but candles had been lit along the length of the table. Paintings lined the walls, each one slightly smaller as they got closer to the far end.

“Hey, look Rion,” Jaime said, pointing to one of the paintings. “Here’s one of you.”

“No way,” Rion said, taking a close look. “That is crazy. What are the chances?”

“I guess even twins have doubles,” Jaime said.

“Wait a minute, this guy’s a chick,” Rion noted.

“You sure?” Jaime asked. “Oh, yeah, I see it now. That is weird.”

‘Totally weird,” Rion agreed. “Who are these people? They’re like Bizarro versions of us or something. Think we’re related at all?”

“Dunno,” Jaime said. “I haven’t seen anyone that looks like mom or dad yet. It‘s probably just a coincidence.”

“I guess,” Rion said. “But, you know, if we are related, we might be entitled to some sort of inheritance.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” Sartre said as everyone sat down at one end of the table. “We weren’t expecting guests, although I do cook more food than I’ll eat so I can have leftovers for the rest of the week.”

“That’s pretty generous of you, anyway,” Katrina said. “We did kind of impose on you and all.”

“It’s just general hospitality,” Sartre replied. “You have guests, you feed them.”

“This is a very nice place,” Katrina went on. “Are you the only servant here?”

“At the moment,” Sartre answered. “Only Tragoat and I are required to maintain the property while the master is away. We usually hire a full staff shortly before the master returns to make sure all his needs are taken care of.”

“Speaking of your master, what kind of person is he?” Rion inquired. “Have we heard of him?”

“This is the master’s private sanctuary,” Sartre replied. “It would be remiss of me divulge any information about him without his permission.”

“But he is still alive, right?” Jaime asked.

“Oh, yes, quite alive,” Sartre said. “He and his family still have many uses for this old house, and may continue to do so for centuries to come.”

“There must be quite a history to this place,” Katrina said in a mysterious tone. “Many… interesting stories to tell.”

“Yes, a good many,” Sartre said with a touch of humor in his voice. “Unfortunately, they are not my stories to tell.”

“A private man with a private history, I see,” Katrina noted. “I’m getting the feeling your master has many skeletons in his closet. Someone who prefers the past to remain buried, if you will.”

“What the Hell are you doing?” Jaime hissed to Katrina.

“What we’ve been doing for a couple minutes now,” Katrina whispered back.

“Just because people died here doesn’t mean this place is haunted,” Jaime whispered.

“If this place is haunted, chances are someone died here,” Katrina whispered.

“You people aren’t cops, are you?” Sartre asked.

“What?” Jaime responded.

“’Cause you have to tell me if you’re cops,” Sartre explained.

“No, we’re not,” Katrina said with a hint of confusion. “Why would you need to know if we’re cops?”

“Oh, no reason,” Sartre replied. “Living in an old, dark house like this tends to make one a little paranoid.”

“Is that why you drugged the food?” Katrina asked.

Sartre paused awkwardly for a moment before saying, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m hoping its not actually poison,” Katrina explained. “Either way, you don’t want us snooping around, because we’ll eventually discover that this place is haunted. If we‘re unconscious the entire time we‘re here, you won‘t have to keep tabs on us.”

“Miss, I assure you that you have been neither drugged nor poisoned,” Sartre insisted.

“Then why am I all dizzy and disoriented?” Katrina demanded.

“Because you drank half a bottle of wine during the course of this conversation,” Sartre explained.

Katrina eyed the half-empty bottle of wine next to her unsteadily. Rion and Jaime covered their faces in embarrassment.

“Oh,” Katrina said. “Then I’m probably don’t sound nearly as eloquent or clever as I think.”

“Not the slightest bit,” Wearwolf concurred.

“Right, I guess I’ve had enough, then,” Katrina said, pushing the wine bottle away from her. Then she picked the wine bottle back up. “Though it is good wine. What year is it?”

“The fact of the matter is,” Rion said, snatching both the bottle and Katrina’s glass away from her and putting as far away as possible, “My sister was attacked by what my girlfriend believes is a ghost.”

“Oh, I see,” Sartre said mirthfully. “Yes, well, we’re having something of a Tarotarot infestation.”

Sartre picked up his spoon and threw it at Katrina’s fork. The fork was suddenly enveloped in a glowing sphere of fog with distinct blue eyes. It sprung into the air, spiraling about in a panic before diving into the nearest mouse hole.

“Hey, I was using that fork!” Katrina complained.

“As you know, Tarotarots are practically insubstantial and store their energy in inanimate objects,” Sartre explained. “They feed off the energy of physical beings, mostly the pests hiding among the grounds in our case, and sometimes require multiple objects when they gather too much. Extremely bothersome to get rid of, since they’re not entirely solid.”

“That must have been the eyes you saw in the television,” Wearwolf said.

“See?” Jaime said. “Tarotarots. Not ghosts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Katrina said dismissively. She said pointedly to Sartre, “But not only do Tarotarots rarely feed on an animal that isn’t asleep, can only carry and occasionally fling objects. They lack the dexterity and intelligence to wrap people in blankets and try to burn them. Also,” she added, turning to Jaime, “Tarotarots feed of the psychokinetic energy of spirits bound to haunted sites. They‘re drawn to them like flies.”

“That is one-hundred percent prime, grade-A baloney!” Jaime exclaimed. “The entire basis of that argument is the assumption that ghosts exist. All it proves is that Tarotarots can be found in spooky places.”

“As for the rest of your statement,” Sartre said, “I can only imagine that your friend panicked and tangled herself in the sheet. In her panicked state, she probably armed her electron gun and allowed it to overcharge, hence the burning sensation.”

“Okay, I can agree to half of that,” Jaime said. “But I can assure you I never even touched my gun until I was untangled, and even so the burning wasn’t coming from it.”

“Then I’m afraid I’m at a loss,” Sartre replied, pushing back his chair. “If you want to find out about what attacked you, you’ll have to figure it out by your own means. If you‘ll excuse me, I believe I‘ve had my fill.”

With that, Sartre picked up his plate and disappeared down the hall. The other four continued to eat without him.

“Okay, so Tarotarots caused all the stuff to move,” Rion said. “But caused the burning sensation?”

“I’m not really sure it was a burning sensation, really,” Jaime admitted a little uncertainly. “Actually, it kinda felt like the last time I tried lifting weights and strained my muscles, but the feeling was kinda on my muscles, but not in my muscles. I think. What would cause that?”

“Chimeric fusion,” Katrina replied, hovering over her plate.

“Chimeric fusion feels like that?” Jaime asked. “It’s like that when Wearwolf transforms into your armor?”

“No, no, not the fusion itself,” Katrina answered, rubbing her forehead. “But remember when I got mad at Kumiho and Wearwolf had to stop me from hitting her? It felt like my muscles were ripping themselves apart. It wasn’t much fun for Wearwolf, either.”

“But why would a Tarotarot try to fuse with me?” Jaime asked.

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Rion replied. “Remember the painting in the main hall? Maybe it thought you were him.”

“But why is it here and not with him?” Jaime wondered.

“It was not a Tarotarot that attacked Jaime,” Wearwolf said.

“What do you mean it wasn’t a Tarotarot?” Katrina asked. The question got Rion and Jaime’s attentions, also.

“The Tarotarot that appeared in here had a distinct odor,” Wearwolf explained. “Similar odors permeate this entire house. However, there is another odor, different from the others. It was most strong on the sheet in Jaime‘s room.”

“The sheet smelled different. Great,” Katrina said, resting her face in her hands. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pen and a notepad. “That means there’s another phantom MultiPet lurking around, and I think I know what it is.”

“I think we know what it is,” Rion said, watching Katrina draw. “You don’t have to spell it out for us.”

“Wow, I know your drawings are bad, but that doesn’t look like anything,” Jaime said, leaning over Katrina‘s work.

“It’s not a drawing, it’s a charm,” Katrina said while concentrating on the design. “Remember the weird-looking gate? I didn’t recognize it at first because it was backwards, but it’s a spirit-barrier charm. It prevents ghosts from either leaving or entering any enclosed area with it inscribed on the entrance.”

“How do you know this stuff?” Rion asked.

“Some moms force their kids to learn piano,” Katrina explained. “Mine made me to learn witchcraft. Anyway, the way the gate is designed, the seal would break whenever it was opened and everything would escape. But there‘s something else here that‘s sucking spirits in. Wearwolf and I could feel it. That‘s what led us here.”

“If that’s the case, it’s probably attracting other MultiPets,” Rion said. “Fang Bats, Wearwolves, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he served wine because of parasitic Gauzeworms in the water. An intestinal parasite like that might also explain why he has to cook so much food.”

“And notice how the lightning hasn’t struck the house yet?” Jaime noted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Bolteslas fighting over territory on the grounds.”

“It attracts monster MultiPets, but it traps phantom ones, like Tarotarot,” Katrina said, still drawing. “But it what I don’t know is why someone would want to run a roach motel for ghosts.”

“If I may ask the obvious question,” Wearwolf started, “But what MultiPet are we talking about exactly?”

“There are only three phantom MultiPets that I know of,” Katrina explained. She tore the sheet off the notepad and began folding it into a ninja star. “We’ve already met Tarotarot, but the other two are…”

Right then, the table cloth rose up in front of them, draped over an invisible human form. It turned slowly around, viewing each one in turn until it faced Rion. Then, with a gleeful moan, it rose up and dove at him, swirling tightly around him and knocking him out of his chair.

“Hey! I’m not the one you want!” Rion protested. “Get offa me! Hey!”

“Rion!” Katrina and Jaime exclaimed, leaping out of their seats.

“Wearwolf!” Katrina called out. “Chimeric Fusion!”

Katrina braced herself as Wearwolf began to glow. He shattered into several spheres of energy that gathered around Katrina’s body. They coalesced over her arms and legs, becoming clawed, fur-tufted gloves and boots. They merged over her torso, becoming furry shorts and vest. They settled over hear head, becoming a wolf-like hood. Wearwolf opened his eyes to a look of determination.

“Chimeric Fusion complete,” Wearwolf reported.

Katrina grabbed hold of the table cloth and pulled hard. The table cloth unwound from Rion quickly, and Katrina slammed it onto the floor. She pounced onto the phantom body and drove her fist into its head. The cloth fell loosely to the floor and Katrina shook out her throbbing hand.

“Did you kill it?” Jaime asked.

“No, I hit the damn floor,” Katrina said, nursing her hand as she got up and turned around. “Rion! Behind you!”

Flying up through the floor was an apparition. The torso of the creature was cloth-like, and flowed like a sheer nightgown. Its limbs were pink ribbons, spiraling around in a suggestion of arms and legs. Another ribbon floated above its shoulders, tied in a bow on the side of a non-existent neck. Its head was some sort of pillow, an invisible face pressing from the inside, mouth agape with arching eyelids drawn on. Cloth draped uninterrupted behind it like hair.

The apparition lashed out with its ribbon-arm and wrapped tightly around Katrina’s torso. With a scream like a female tennis star, the phantom MultiPet flung Katrina down the length of the dining room. Wailing happily, it turned back to Rion, only to be shot with an electric beam from Jaime. The apparition moaned heavily, and slowly sank into the floor. It got about halfway through when a paper ninja star lodged into its head, holding it in place.

“I’m a little surprised my spirit-freeze charm worked,” Katrina said, sauntering on up. “I’m still kinda tipsy, after all.”

“I’m really surprised that worked,” Jaime said. “I mean, it’s just ink and paper.”

“Ink, paper, and a little Chimeric Fusion energy,” Katrina corrected.

“I’m just glad it worked,” Rion said. “But why did it attack me?”

“Let’s find out,” Katrina said, reaching down and grabbing the apparition by the head. It moaned pitifully as she pulled it up to about eye level. “Wearwolf, meet Succubash, a Mystic Armor-type MultiPet and serious predatory energy vampire. I think it’s time you two had a little chat.”

“She says she‘s in pain,” Wearwolf reported.

“Well, it’s not like behind held up by your hair with a ninja star in your head’s going to be very comfortable,” Katrina said.

“No, this is nothing to her,” Wearwolf said over Succubash‘s moaning. “Her soul is in agony. She can‘t leave. She can‘t find her partner. She can barely even sense her anymore.”

“Yeah, she misses her partner,” Katrina said. “Why didn’t she try to get her out?”

“Her partner‘s parents hated her,” Wearwolf translated. “Despised her. Said she was garbage. A parasite. The MultiPet of a trollop or a criminal. Said she brought shame to her family. Said they had to get rid of her.”

“So the family decides they have dark secret and want to hide it,” Katrina surmised. “They go through great expense to create a ghost prison and lock her up.”

“Harsh,” Jaime commented.

“This isn‘t the first time,” Wearwolf said. “There have been others. Generations, ripped from their partners.”

Katrina swore under her breath. “It’s the family dump site. An asylum for those whose only crime was being born. Jerks like these don’t deserve MultiPets. How do we stop it? What’s holding her here?”

“I understand that it is painful, but you must tell us,” Wearwolf said. “We can free you. You can find her.” Succubash wailed loudly and painfully. “There is a stone. A large one. They came here, took her to the stone. It throbbed. It sucked her in and then… pain. So painful. She was stuck for a long time, and her partner was gone long before she was able to free herself. She still can‘t leave the confines of the house.”

“Well, where is this stone?” Katrina asked.

“This might be a bad time to mention this,” Wearwolf said, “But this doesn‘t smell like the creature that attacked Jaime.”

“You mean there’s another one?” Katrina exclaimed.

“Uh, Katrina?” Jaime said.

“What?” Katrina demanded.

A chain suddenly streaked past Katrina’s face and knocked the ninja star off of Succubash’s head. The chain then wrapped around Succubash’s torso and drug her screeching through Katrina. Turning quickly, Katrina discovered another apparition. This one had a body of leather and chains like octopus arms. Its face was a leather mask.

“I shoulda figured,” Katrina said. “An Incubash, the male equivalent of Succubash. I’m guessing he’s the jealous type, too.”

Incubash grunted forcefully.

“He is definitely upset with you,” Wearwolf said. “And he‘s demanding you hand over Jaime.”

“Jaime is not who you think she is!” Katrina demanded. “You’re partner isn’t here! He left and isn’t coming back!”

“He doesn‘t believe you,” Wearwolf said in response to Incubash’s further grunting.

“It’s true!” Katrina insisted. “But we can help you get out of here! You can find him again!”

“Aw, screw this,” Jaime said. She opened fire on Incubash, but the apparition dodged each shot fluidly. Incubash fled into the wall and reappeared behind Jaime. Incubash was looming over her before she could get a shot in, but a well-aimed shot from Rion sent it tumbling out of the room.

“Thanks,” Jaime said.

“No problem,” Rion said. “I think we scared it off.”

“Succubash is gone, too,” Katrina said. “But I’m pretty sure I know where to go.”

“Where?” Jaime and Rion asked.

“Where do you think?” Katrina replied. “The one place Sartre specifically told us not to look.”

The lock to the clock tower, or rather the door it was attached to, didn’t stand very long against Katrina and Wearwolf’s combined power. The inside was one long shaft to the top, filled with giant gears and cogs. Scaffolding spiraled up the walls. Just under the loud and ominous ticking, unearthly wailing could be heard echoing down the chamber.

“Good lord,” Rion exclaimed.

“There ain’t nothin’ good about this place,” Katrina commented.

“I’m guessing this tower, maybe even the whole house, is running on Wailing Quartz,” Jaime said as they started up the scaffolding. “It’s like a magnet for phantoms. Plus, it robs them of their energy, making it difficult to escape. A good-sized chunk could run for centuries in a place like this.”

“And thus the circle of life continues,” Katrina said sarcastically.

It wasn’t long before something, or someone, stood in their way. That something was Sartre, lead pipe in hand. His appearance had changed, as he now bore the legs and horns of a goat.

“Rocking the satyr look, I see,” Katrina remarked. “Looks good on ya. But if you and Tragoat are doing what I think you’re doing, then things are going to turn ugly really fast.”

“You four have overstayed your welcome,” Sartre said. “I am afraid I must insist that you leave.”

“Not a chance,” Rion said forcefully. “The incarceration of these phantom MultiPets is unethical and inhumane. We’re putting a stop to it.”

“I’m afraid not,” Sartre said. “The master has put a lot of faith in me to see that this clock tower runs smoothly. I would hate to have to disappoint him.”

“Yeah, I bet he’ll be pretty pissed off when Incubash and Succubash show up on his front step,” Katrina said, walking off to the side. “But you’ve got to owe up to your mistakes some time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a giant clock to scale.”

Katrina leapt off the scaffolding and grabbed onto the nearest cog. She rode it up to the next one and scrambled up that. After a couple more, she hoisted herself onto a gear rotating parallel to the ground. Sartre simply jumped up and landed on the same gear.

“Oh, yeah,” Katrina said. “That’s right. Tragoats have super-jumping abilities.”

Sartre charged at Katrina and swung his pipe. Katrina ducked and came back up with an uppercut across Sartre’s jaw. Sartre stumbled back, leaving an opening for Katrina to land a couple jabs to his stomach followed by a flip-kick. He found himself teetering on the edge, and by the time he recovered his balance Katrina was already clambering up the clock’s inner workings again.

Katrina jumped and flipped from cog to cog, pausing only momentarily to take advantage of the gear’s movement. But Sartre was faster, rocketing head-first into Katrina’s back. Katrina was sent spiraling downward, and landed on her back on the edge of another parallel cog. Sartre landed astride her, pinning her down with his pipe as her head ticked closer and closer towards the teeth of an adjoining, perpendicular gear.

Having taken advantage of the distraction, Rion and Jaime rushed up the scaffolding and to the face of the clock. There, amidst gears and cables, they found a large, pulsating, yellow stone that wailed with the screams of the damned.

“Considering the construction of this clock, shouldn’t this stone be at the bottom?” Jaime inquired.

“Maybe, but it’s more dramatic this way,” Rion replied.

“Whatever, let’s just destroy this thing,” Jaime said as she and Rion powered up their guns. “We may have to cross the streams.”

“I thought you said crossing the streams was a bad idea,” Rion said.

Jaime paused for a moment before asking, “Do you remember the next line?”

“Nah, I’ll I remember about this scene is Gozer and a giant marshmallow mascot,” Rion answered.

The two of them shrugged and started blasting the stone.

Back at the gear, Katrina’s head was getting dangerously close to getting crushed. Her arms struggled to push against the lead pipe, but Sartre was pushing back harder. Only a few ticks away from oblivion, Katrina rocked back, planted her feet in Sartre’s gut, and shoved him away. She flipped to her feet just in time, as all the gears started spinning faster. Katrina and Sartre knelt down, trying to maintain balance as the speed increased.

“This isn’t helping,” Rion said as he continued to zap the Wailing Quartz. “I think it’s just absorbing the energy.”

“That’s the idea,” Jaime explained. “The quartz absorbs and redistributes the energy as vibrations, which is what keeps the clock so regular. But the more energy it absorbs, the faster it vibrates. Also, it can only handle so much energy at once.”

“So it’ll either vibrate itself to pieces, or explode like a balloon with too much air,” Rion said. “Brilliant idea, but we may be standing a bit close.”

“Maybe,” Jaime admitted.

As the gears spun like crazy, Katrina realized she was now in possession of Sartre’s pipe. Thinking quickly, she stuck it between the teeth of the gear. In short order, the pipe was wedged between two gears, grinding the whole machine to a sudden stop. The sudden change in momentum threw Sartre off the gear, but Katrina remained in place due to her grip on the pipe.

Katrina steadied herself and walked over to the edge of the gear to see what happened to Sartre. When she got there, a hand grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her over the edge. Sartre was hanging onto the gear with one hand, and dangling Katrina over a mechanized abyss with the other.

“You ditz!” Sartre growled. “Do you know how hard it is to reset a giant clock!?”

“I think daylight savings time is about to be the least of your worries,” Katrina said.

An explosion at the top of the clock tower sent gears and debris plummeting downwards. Larger gears hit more gears, and soon the whole thing was crumbling around them. Katrina soon saw Jaime and Rion zoom down the scaffolding, screaming, “RUN!”

Katrina bent at the waist, grabbing Sartre’s wrist with her hand. She dug her claws into his arm, forcing him to let go of her ankle. She then flipped up, kicked away from the gear, and landed back on the scaffolding. Turning around, she saw Sartre struggling to pull himself back up on the gear as everything tumbled down around him.

Realizing Sartre wasn’t going to be able to climb back up, Katrina considered for moment that she could just leave him to his fate. However easy that may be, she couldn’t just let him be crushed to death. She sighed to herself, then leapt off the scaffolding again. Leaping from gear to falling gear, she caught Sartre just as he was losing his grip and ushered him back to the scaffolding.

“You saved me?” Sartre exclaimed.

“You can thank me later,” Katrina said over the rumble of falling debris. “We have to get out of here now!”

The impact of the clock’s innards crashing to the ground broke every window of the house and sent dust erupting through the clock tower’s door. Jaime and Rion coughed as the dust began to settle. They watched the door for a while, unable to see the inside of the clock tower through the cloud. Eventually, a silhouette formed as Katrina helped Sartre out of the tower. The two of them collapsed to the ground, and with a pop Tragoat and Wearwolf were standing beside them.

“Man, I guess I can cross ‘Fight someone in a clock tower’ off my list of things to do,” Katrina said, breathing heavily.

“We almost thought you were a goner,” Jaime said.

“So did I,” Katrina said. “It was pretty close.”

“Nah, I knew you’d make it out okay,” Rion said.

“You saved me,” Sartre said. “Why? I tried to kill you.”

“I figured I’d need the practice if I’m going to be a Chimera Knight,” Katrina explained. “Besides, letting people die ain’t my style.”

“Thank you anyway,” Sartre said.

“So what are you going to do now?” Rion asked. “Your master won’t be very pleased with this.”

Sartre paused and looked up. Tarotarots were becoming visible in the moonlight and floating out of the mansion. Succubash and Incubash appeared. They glared at him for a moment, then quickly followed suit.

“I guess I’m condemned to be free, to paraphrase my twentieth century namesake,” Sartre sighed as he stood up. “Probably time Tragoat and I moved on as well.”

“But where will you go?” Jaime asked with concern in her voice.

“I think I’ll leave that for the philosophers to decide,” Sartre replied as he and Tragoat faded into nothingness.

“No such things as ghosts, huh?” Katrina noted as she rose to her feet and dusted herself off.

“But that… but that…” Jaime stammered, pointing disbelievingly where Sartre and Tragoat once stood. She hung her head defeatedly. “Can we go now?”

“What? Now that we have the whole place to ourselves?” Kartina questioned disbelievingly.

“There’s no reason to stick around now that the rain’s let up,” Rion said.

“But it’s the middle of the night,” Katrina protested. “And all the ghosts are gone now. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Fine, let’s just go to bed,” Jaime said.

“You wanna trade rooms?” Rion asked. “Mine’s full of clocks.”

“I don’t want to see another clock as long as I live,” Katrina said.

“We could double up,” Rion suggested.

“Not with me,” Katrina said. “You can sleep with Jaime.”

“I’m not sleeping in a room with naked statues,” Rion protested.

“Then you two can take my room, and I’ll take the naked statues,” Katrina offered.

“But I like the naked statues,” Jaime whined. Then she blushed awkwardly. “Er, I mean… What I mean to say is…”

And then everyone laughed. The end.

Alternate Chapter 2, Part Three: Mandrake

Moments after Jessica left Katrina’s house, Katrina and Wearwolf followed after her. She wasn’t very far down the vine-strewn street when they caught up with her. The streets weren’t the only thing vine-strewn in Wine Town. The stuff grew everywhere like a curious weed with a penchant for high places. Anything stationary long enough was eventually secured into position by the vines, including, so the old wives’ tale goes, lazy children who don’t get enough exercise. To visitors, it gives at the same time a sense of rustic charm and a eerie sense of foreboding, while the residents face the regular struggle of keeping the vines growing on the outside of the house from becoming the vines growing on the inside of the house. Perhaps it was just another consequence of living so close to Dionysus.

“What is suddenly so important?” Wearwolf asked, just slightly limping by Katrina‘s side.

“You‘ll see in a moment,” Katrina promised as they trotted up to Jessica. “Mrs. Chardonnay, wait!”

“Aye, lass, how many times do I have t’ tell ye, Mrs. Chardonnay is me mother-in-law’s name,” Jessica said as she turned to face them. “(Lord rest her soul if I ever meet her again) Jus’ call me Jess.”

“Right, Jess,” Katrina said, panting slightly. “Look, I’ve been wondering, about your MultiPet…”

“Aye, what of him?” Jessica asked. She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow.

“Well,” Katrina continued, sticking one hand in her pocket as the other scratched the back of her head. “It’s just that you never talk about him, aside from the fact that you had to leave him behind in the sea…”

“Aye, I consider it a personal matter,” Jessica said. Her eyes narrowed a little.

“Yeah, but my parents’ MultiPets don’t become armor like Wearwolf,” Katrina said, gesturing out with one hand. “And I can’t think of anyone else in town with an Armor-type MultiPet, either, so I figured…”

“Ah, ye think I could train ye if my MultiPet also happened to be an Armor-type,” Jessica replied. She shook her head. “Aye, I could teach ye a thing or two about ‘em, but as far as Armor-type pets are concern I’m afraid yer barkin’ up the wrong tree, no pun intended.”

“I do not understand the joke,” Wearwolf said, tilting his head to the side.

“All right,” Katrina sighed, sagging slightly. “Thanks anyway.”

“Ach, I just remembered something,” Jessica said, snapping her fingers. She stuck her thumbs into her belt loops. “Rion and Jaime said they wanted to see ye right away. They said it was urgent, but wouldn’t tell me what it was. Not that I don’t already know. Ye of all people should know ye can’t hide nothin’ from yer mother.”

The Chardonnay’s house was probably the most out of place thing in all of Wine Town, after the world‘s largest neon sign. It was as if a particularly wicked storm at sea had caused a triple-masted schooner to run aground at the corner of Fifth and Albuquerque. The sails were always at full, making it look as if the only thing keeping it from sailing down the avenue were the vines anchoring it to the lawn.

The inside was quite the sight, as well. Mr. and Mrs. Chardonnay kept a large, and some would say tacky, collection of maritime paraphernalia. It was like walking into a live-in sailing museum. Even though they were miles from the shore, Katrina always felt a little seasick after spending any amount of time in their living room.

“Oh, man, am I glad you’re here,” Jaime said as she opened the front door. She was a bespectacled brunette only a few months younger than Katrina, wearing a long, blue skirt and a padded, orange vest. She grabbed Katrina by the wrist and yanked her inside before closing it quickly. Less than a moment later, Katrina opened it again to let Wearwolf in.

“Sorry about that,” Katrina apologized.

“I imagine my presence will take some getting used to,” Wearwolf said.

“It’s up here in our room,” Jaime said as she climbed some nearby rigging into the loft. “Your wolf will be fine down there, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Katrina replied. Turning to Wearwolf, she said, “Try not to break anything.”

Glancing at a nearby giant ship in a bottle that served as the coffee table, Wearwolf said, “I will do my best.”

Rion, Jaime’s lanky twin brother, looked up from something he had covered up on his bed as Katrina climbed into the loft. He immediately ran up to Katrina and took her by the hand.

“Listen,” he said urgently. “What we’re about to show you is top secret. You can’t say anything to anyone about it. And try not to scream or anything… You might… wake it.”

“What are you…” Katrina started before the twins shushed her. In a whisper, she said, “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see in a moment,” Rion said. “Do you agree or not?”

“Fine, I won’t tell anybody,” Katrina said. “Now show it to me.”

Rion led Katrina over to his bed and threw back the covers. Snoozing peacefully was what looked like a little girl with skin like tree bark. Instead of hair, broad, green feathers grew out of its scalp. Katrina grabbed Rion and dragged him back to Jaime across the room.

“Are you crazy!?” Katrina exclaimed under her breath. “Do you have any idea what the Hell that thing is? It’s a freakin’ mandrake! A dryad child! You can’t keep this thing in your house! This thing is dangerous even if the other dryad don’t figure out where it is!”

“You think we don’t know that?” Rion replied. “We just couldn’t leave her there.”

“We found her, we think it’s a ‘her,’ unconscious in the forest about a week ago,” Jaime explained. “She was badly injured and alone. If we left her there, she would’ve died. So we hid her in our room and nursed her back to health.”

“Dryad don’t even leave their dead where people can find them,” Rion added. “Trust me, if the dryad knew she was lost, we wouldn’t have found her.”

“What about when this thing wakes up?” Katrina asked. “A mandrake can kill a man with its scream.”

“We’re hoping that’s just a myth,” Jaime answered. “There’s not a lot of scientifically-proven data on them. Fortunately, she hasn’t woken up yet, but we think she’s in good enough condition to return to her tribe.”

“We just don’t know where they are,” Rion said. “We’re hoping you and your Wearwolf can help track them down.”

“I dunno,” Katrina said. “Better trackers than me have tried and failed.”

“You’re the only one we can trust with this, Katrina,” Rion said. “If we go anywhere else, we’ll be hip-deep in trouble.”

“I’ve got half a mind to smack you two around myself,” Katrina said, crossing her arms. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

Rion carefully bundled the mandrake up in his bed sheets before they all climbed back down into the living room. Wearwolf had lain patiently on the floor and popped his head up as they came down.

“Can you keep a secret?” Katrina asked. “I don’t want you telling any of the other animals about this.”

“I shall not tell another soul,” Wearwolf replied.

“Good,” Katrina said. Rion brought the bundle over to him and revealed the mandrake’s face. Wearwolf’s eyes went wide.

“Not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” Rion said.

“I thought the dryad were friendly toward wildlife,” Jaime noted.

“Wearwolf,” Katrina said, “We need you track down her tribe. Can you do this?”

“I know exactly where her tribe resides,” Wearwolf said, closing his eyes. His words were merely a squeal of a whine to Rion and Jaime’s ears. “But I am afraid I cannot lead you there.”

“Why not?” Katrina asked.

“It all began a week ago,” Wearwolf explained. He looked into Katrina’s eyes reluctantly. “My pack and I lived among the dryad. One day, one of them approached us most urgently and strapped bundles to our backs. They had tried to confuse the scents, but I could tell at least one of them carried one of their children. We were instructed to leave, spreading out in different directions, and not return until we had received word to do so. I have yet to hear back from them, but I imagine that since I am bonded to you my matters no longer concerns them.

“I am not aware of what happened to the tribe, but a few days later I found myself being pursued by Rossiter. He was most interested in the bundle I carried with me. Fortunately, all my bundle contained were oranges, but by the time he found out he was determined to make a profit out of my hide. He would have succeeded had you not arrived.”

“Aw, man,” Katrina replied.

“What’d he say?” Jaime asked.

“Someone may be after this kid,” Katrina explained. “He was hunted down in an attempt to find her. If we take her back to her tribe, she could be in grave danger.”

“Harsh,” Jaime said.

“I can’t imagine what would be so dangerous that a dryad would have to send its own children away,” Katrina mused. “They were supposed to tell him when it was safe to come back, but he’s seen neither hide nor hair of them since.”

“Well, he didn’t have a mandrake with him when you found him,” Rion said. “Maybe they decided to cut ties with him after you two bonded.”

“Maybe,” Katrina said. “But whatever the case, we can’t keep this mandrake here. Wearwolf, do you know of any other dryad tribes in the area?”

“That just so happens to be the case,” Wearwolf replied, hanging his head. “However, I was also instructed to avoid other dryad sanctuaries in this region as well. For whatever reason, I cannot say.”

“Well, we have to take her somewhere,” Katrina said. “And she’ll be much safer with her own kind than with us or on her own. Or, at least, we will.”

“I refuse to go back on my word,” Wearwolf said, turning his head away. “And even if I wanted to, leading humans to a dryad sanctuary is punishable by death. I could be putting you in danger and potentially the child if the danger has not passed.”

“And I suppose you have a better idea?” Katrina asked crossly. “What are we going to do? Leave her in the forest to die? Keep her here so she can kill us when she wakes up? And if someone finds her, they’ll just want to kill her or chase her off so she can’t harm anyone. And then where will she be? She could wind up at the mercy of whatever chased her out of the sanctuary. At least if we take her back we can figure out what happened. I think she deserves that much.”

“Very well,” Wearwolf accepted, his ears drooping. “As other answers elude me, I will lead you to the dryads. Be forewarned: Even if the child finds safety there, you will not. The dryad do not appreciate human trespassers within their sanctuaries.”

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take,” Katrina said. To Rion and Jaime, she said, “If you guys are coming, you better bring a gun. This could get hairy.”

“Hoo boy,” Rion breathed.

“You two aren’t scared, are ya?” Katrina asked.

“No way,” Rion said. “I’m totally going with you. I wanna see this through to the end.”

“If Rion’s going, so am I,” Jaime said. “But mom keeps the gun cabinet locked.”

“I can pick that lock no problem,” Rion said, handing the mandrake to Jaime. “How about the Reagan mark two?”

“The lowest setting should be enough to stun them, I imagine,” Jaime agreed.

“You guys know way too much about guns,” Katrina said uncomfortably.

ExFic 15: Roger

“Why can’t we go with you?” Rion demanded.

“Because it’s too dangerous,” Katrina replied.

“Isn’t that why they told you not to go?” Jaime questioned.

“To be technical, nobody told Katrina not to go,” Kumiho explained. “She was just told not to go with Berg. You two, on the other hand, are being explicitly told not to leave town or go near the Dionysus Engine until we get back.”

“Give us one good reason,” Rion said.

“And don’t say, ‘It’s too dangerous’,” Jaime added. “’Cause that’s not good enough.”

Katrina turned around, bringing the group to a halt. She and Kumiho, who had changed into camouflage shirt and shorts, had been followed by Rion and Jaime for the past few blocks. She glanced down at Wearwolf at by her ankle as she adjusted her backpack.

“Because someone has to cover for us while we’re gone,” she said. “Otherwise, we’ll be in big trouble.”

“Isn’t your mother psychic?” Rion asked. “She should already know what you’re about to do.”

“That doesn’t mean she’ll tell anyone else,” Kumiho replied. “Besides…” She took off her own backpack and began rummaging through it, causing Mysticat to drop from her shoulder. “I need you two to watch something for me. If I don’t come back, I want it to be in safe hands.”

Kumiho produced a plush duck and pressed it into Rion’s hands.

“What is it?” Rion asked.

“It’s my Lucky Ducky,” Kumiho answered. To Rion’s blank expression, she added, “You won it for me at the State Fair seven years ago…? It’s been my most cherished toy ever since…? I used to carry it around all the time until I was fourteen…?”

Rion shrugged.

“How can you not remember any of that!?” Kumiho shrieked, whapping Rion over the head with the duck. “I made it call you ‘Daddy’ over sixteen-thousand times! I told everyone that story every chance I got! How could you possibly forget it!?”

“I dunno,” Rion replied, holding his arms up to block further blows. “I guess it didn’t really stand out that much.”

“I don’t really remember the duck, either,” Katrina said.

“I remember the duck,” Jaime said, sheepishly raising a hand. “Kinda.”

“Do humans always place such high value on material possessions?” Wearwolf inquired.

Mysticat meowed condescendingly.

Hanging her head in despair, Kumiho said, “The sad thing is, I knew he’d forget about it.”

“Look, I’ll watch it for you if it means that much to you,” Rion said, reaching out for the duck.

“Nope, too late,” Kumiho said, turning around to keep the duck from his reach. “If the duck means so little to you, I don’t want you baby-sitting it.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, all right?” Rion said. “Just give me the duck!”

“Don’t do it, Rion!” Jaime exclaimed. “She’s just trying to trick you into staying behind!”

“Of course!” Rion exclaimed, recoiling. “How could I fall for such an obvious ploy? You probably made the whole thing up!”

“What!? Why would I make up something like this!?” Kumiho exclaimed, her face red with irritation.

“Wait, I remember now!” Katrina said with a snap of her fingers. “No, wait, no, that was a pig.”

“How do you confuse a duck with a pig?” Wearwolf asked.

“You’re taking the duck whether you want it or not!” Kumiho growled, shoving the duck into Rion’s hands.

“A duck will not keep me from this mission!” Rion proclaimed, shoving the duck back into Kumiho’s hand.

“Are you two going to stop fighting on my lawn, or do I have to turn the hose on you?”

They looked up to see a young man on a bright yellow horse standing in the street. He had hair the color of the setting sun, and skin tanned to match. He wore blue jeans and a flannel shirt, but the athletic physique they concealed had long since been etched into Katrina’s memory. Corny as it even seemed to her, she couldn’t help but be jealous of the red-haired girl riding behind him, her arms gingerly wrapped around his waist, her head lazily resting against his shoulders. If only Katrina could cut that girl out of this picture and paste herself in her place. It wasn’t something Katrina had any right to express, and it seriously pissed her off.

“Hey, Katrina,” he said with a pearly-white smile. “Hey, Kumiho. Hey, Rion. Hey, Jaime.”

“Hey, Roger!” Katrina replied enthusiastically.

“Hey,” Kumiho echoed amusedly.

“Hey,” Rion replied in shock.

“Hey,” Jaime repeated.

“Hey, Kumiho,” the girl riding behind him said sleepily. “Hey, Katrina. Hey, Jaime. Hey, Rion.”

“Hello, Becky,” Katrina grumbled.

“Hey,” Kumiho echoed amusedly.

“Hey,” Rion replied in shock.

“Hey,” Jaime repeated.

The horse they were riding whinnied.

“Hey, eStallion,” Katrina said.

“Hey,” Kumiho echoed amusedly.

“Hey,” Rion replied in shock.

“Hey,” Jaime repeated.

“And this is Bootsy,” Kumiho said, proudly holding up her Mysticat. Bootsy meowed in greeting.

“Hey, Bootsy,” Roger said.

“Hey,” Becky replied sleepily.

“Hey,” Rion replied in shock.

“Hey,” Jaime repeated.

“Oh, hey, this is Wearwolf,” Katrina said, gesturing down to her partner.

“Hey, Wearwolf,” Roger said.

“Hey,” Becky replied sleepily.

“Hey,” Rion replied in shock.

“Hey,” Jaime repeated.

“Now that we’ve run that joke into the ground,” Roger said, “It’s great to finally be back. A lot more has changed than I figured. Sure wish I was there to see it.”

“Well what the Hell kept you away so long then!?” Katrina blurted out. “What the Hell could you two have been doing all this time!?”

Roger and Becky looked at each other and started giggling.

“Well, if you must know…” Roger started.

“Nevermind, honeymoon stuff,” Katrina interrupted. “Forget I asked. I don’t want to know.”

“It’s no problem,” Becky said. “I don’t mind.”

“Nuh-uh, no way,” Katrina said. “Don’t want to hear it.”

“But we have videos and everything,” Roger said.

“Yeah, no thank you,” Katrina said. Quite frankly, the very thought of them… together… was enough to give her hives. “I don’t need to see it.”

“Seriously, though,” Roger said, “Your mother said we had to arrive at this time on this day to help you shadow that Chimera Knight. Berg, right?”

“So this is my mother’s fault!?” Katrina exclaimed. “I can’t believe she did this!”

“I don’t understand how she can see so far into the future so well,” Kumiho commented. “The few visions I get that far off are so vague…”

“I’m sure it’ll come to you eventually,” Roger said as he dismounted. “Anyway, it wasn’t just your mother that kept us away so long. You wouldn’t believe the delays we had. It was a major push just to get here this early.”

“But six months?” Katrina demanded.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said we didn’t enjoy ourselves,” Roger said with a smirk. “There were quite a few adventures to be had. Ain’t that right, Becky?”

“Oh, yeah,” Becky said, stretching her arms. “Mountains of adventure. Some canyons, too, I think. You’re not running off on another one so soon, are you?”

“’Fraid so,” Roger said. “I have to go right away or I’ll miss everything.”

“All right,” Becky said, sliding off eStallion’s back. “I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom. I’m too tired to cook anything, so if you want to eat anything you better bring a pizza.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Roger said. “eStallion, you stay here, too. Last thing we need on a stealth mission is a road-weary horse.”

eStallion snorted, then followed Becky into the house.

“Rion,” Roger said.

“What?” Rion asked.

“You and Jaime stay here and edit my honeymoon videos,” Roger said.

“Whoa, that sounds a little personal,” Rion replied.

“No worries,” Roger said. “Just avoid the disks marked ‘X’ if you don’t want to get an eyeful.”

“Why am I doing this?” Rion asked.

Roger looked around confidentially, then leaned closer to Rion and whispered, “Look, it’s no secret Katrina has it in for Becky. Maybe if you can expose Becky’s weak points, Katrina would be very appreciative, if you know what I mean.”

“You’re preying on my feelings for Katrina to convince me to prey on her jealousy?” Rion remarked. “Do you seriously think I believe I would fall for that?”

“Yes,” Roger answered.

“Why would you even suggest I go against your wife?” Rion asked.

“Bros before hoes, right?” Roger answered, playfully punching Rion in the stomach. “Besides, if either you or Jaime follow us, I’m kicking both your asses. Get it?”

“Got it,” Rion confirmed.

“Good,” Roger said. Turning back to Kumiho and Katrina, he said, “Let’s roll, girls. We’ve got a knight to tail.”