Dragongirl

by DigimonDragongirl

A Real Ghostbusters story about a girl and a dragon found by the team in a woods in Maine. Their story is more interesting than you think.

Dragongirl

By Shelli-Jo Pelletier

***************

(author's note: I will ask you to disregard the Real Ghostbusters episode "Egon's Dragon" while reading the following story. Actual dragon eggs are about the size of a grown man's cupped hands, and hatchlings slightly smaller than that. Dragon infants grow quite slowly until they pass adolescence, somewhere between 200 and 300 years old, whereas they sprout up like weeds. For the being in that particular episode to be that size, it would not be possible for him to have that intellect. Sarmoti informs me it is possible a spell was cast that made the infant develop prematurely, but she can't be certain because my memories of that show are foggy, at best, I being quite young when it was on. But you will understand what I say here better after the story, so please, read on.)

* * *

(author's additional note—several years later: I found this in an old file on my computer, written many years ago. It's cute and I thought I might as well put it up. It was actually the first "insert a dragon into a show" fanfic I ever wrote. ^_^)

***************

"What!?" Peter Venkman exploded. "You've got to be kidding me. Please tell me you're kidding me."

Janine Melnitz shook her head. "The call came from a Mrs. Vanders of Waterville, Maine."

Peter turned from the secretary's desk and looked at his three best friends, the other Ghostbusters, climbing into the company's converted hearse, Ecto-1. "Please say we're not going guys," he pleaded. "I really can't take driving through ten states this morning."

Ray Stanz leaned out the driver's window of the white and red vehicle. "Come on Peter; it's only three states, not ten." He had the easy grin on his face he usually wore before a bust. "And Mrs. Vanders promised to pay us double if we got there today."

Peter sighed, ran a hand through his longish brown hair, and followed them into the Ecto. "All right," he relented, "but it better be something big. If we drive four hours just to talk some Class 2 out of harassing some little old lady I'm never going out of state again." He shut the back door and Ray pulled out of Ghostbuster Central.

"Actually, Peter," Egon Spengler informed him from the front seat beside Ray, "the report is quite fascinating. Mrs. Vanders says there have been multiple sightings by numerous guests of her motel of two completely different specters." He turned to look at Peter with an amused glint in his blue eyes. "Besides, I didn't think you would mind. Out of state calls cost a small fortune."

Peter grimaced. "Yeah, but most of the money goes into gassing Ecto there and back. What was that about two ghosts?"

"Yeah, it sounds great!" exclaimed Ray with his usual enthusiasm. "One is suppose to be small and reddish, and the other looks just like a teenage girl. Poor thing, I wonder what happened to her?"

"What I want to know," Winston Zeddemore, the fourth Ghostbuster, wondered, "is why a small business like that would hire four guys from New York."

"Well," said Ray thoughtfully from behind the wheel, "it's not like she can call anyone else. Ghostbusting isn't exactly the most sought for occupation." The occultist began theorizing what they would find when they got to Maine, and the others quickly joined in.

Peter listened to the usual banter of his friends and tried to get more comfortable for the long trip, not that hearses were designed for comfort. He propped his head against the window. Now, if only he could get to sleep . . . .

* * *

"I think this is the place," Winston announced from the behind the wheel. He and Ray had switched places at the last gas station they had stopped at. The black man pulled off the main road of the small town and into a parking lot of a large motel with a neon sign facing the road.

"It had better be," Peter growled as he climbed out of Ecto-1. "After getting lost five times I'm sick of Maine already, vacationland or not. And we still made it before the sunset." He looked up at the sky just to prove himself right. Stars wouldn't start coming out for another three or four hours. "Looks like someone's paying double," he muttered. The drive had done nothing for his mood. He was stiff and cranky and just wanted to get the bust done and over with and go home.

Ray was already unloading the proton packs from the back of Ecto and strapping his on. Egon shouldered into his and took out his PKE meter. The antenna went up slowly, but obviously. Something was definitely here.

Peter grabbed his pack and swung it on, looking around at the scenery. Besides the motel and the road, there was nothing but pine trees as far as the eye could see. Orange pine needles carpeted the forest floor and parking lot. A few white birch trees broke though the pine woods.

The motel itself was very large. Peter suspected the gold and white building was originally a mansion, and that Mrs. Venders had converted it into a motel and put up the neon sign, which read 'The Vanders Motel.' How original, Peter thought sourly.

The white and gold double doors of the motel opened and a woman, presumably Mrs. Vanders, came out and started for the Ghostbusters. She was in her late-forties with shoulder length auburn hair that was just beginning to gray. She was wearing jeans, a red plaid shirt and tall leather boots. What, no cowboy hat? Peter thought. But he stepped forward with a smile to meet her while the guys finished unloading the Ecto.

"Hello, I'm Kelly Vanders. You're the Ghostbusters?" she asked.

"That's right. I'm Doctor Peter Venkman. This is Ray Stanz, Egon Spengler, and Winston Zeddemore," he indicated his colleagues. "You called about a ghost problem Mrs. Vanders?"

She waved away the formalities. "Please, call me Kelly. 'Mrs. Vanders' makes me feel old. Yes, I'm sorry for bringing you out all this way, but I didn't know who else to call. I'm afraid, now that the occurrences are getting worse, the customers will get so annoyed they'll pack up and leave." By now the other three had come to join Peter listening to Kelly.

"How long have you had the problem?" Peter asked.

"Oh, years, at least. Things started happening a while after I moved in and built up the place, about five years ago. But recently things have gotten worse, as I said, more sightings and such."

"Have you ever seen the specters yourself . . . Kelly?" Egon asked, eyes still on the PKE meter.

"Oh yes. Just yesterday I was emptying the garbage out back and I saw that teenage girl I was telling your secretary about," the woman replied.

"Really? What happened?" asked Ray eagerly.

Kelly blinked a little in surprise, that they were believing her and listening so intently. Peter figured no one up here would believe the woman's story. No wonder she had to call them. "Why," she stammered, "it was just standing there in torn and dirty clothes. The look on its face . . . it was surprised at first, but then furious. Then it just turned and walked slowly off into the woods. I'll admit, I was too shocked to think to go after it. After a bit the woods just swallowed it up; it vanished."

"Wait a minute," Peter demanded. "How do you know it was a ghost?"

"Excuse me?"

"Couldn't it have been a neighborhood kid or something? Maybe someone who got lost in the woods?"

"Doctor Venkman, the nearest neighbor is four miles away. And if someone were lost, why would they leave? Besides, things have been turning up missing around here: food, guest's clothes and belongings. Never any money though," Kelly added, as if she had just thought of it. "Don't ghosts do those sort of things?"

"Some," Egon agreed. "This spirit might have died without realizing it and believes it must have necessities to survive."

"Or it might have died in the building itself and is seeking revenge on those who stay there today unharmed," Ray added. "What about the other one?"

"I've only seen glimpses of it; something small and bright red, but I have a couple staying here now that have seen it close up. Why don't you come in and I'll introduce you?" she invited. The Ghostbusters quickly agreed.

Except for Peter. He had tuned out the moment Egon had begun questioning the lady. He had the strangest sensation that someone, or something, was watching them. Looking around casually, he tried to spot what caused the notion. For a second he thought he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned all he could see were pine needles.

"You coming Pete?" Winston called when he saw Peter wasn't following.

"Huh? Oh, sure Winston, coming." He hurried to catch up with the rest of them. Probably just a bird or a squirrel, he chided himself. The country always made him jumpy. Boy, I hope we get back to New York soon.

* * *

She watched as the white human vehicle pulled up to the large dwelling from the concealing leaves of a birch tree. She watched as four human males--the Ghostbusters, she reminded herself--climbed out of the vehicle and put on their weapons. She watched as the old woman with frost in her hair came out to talk to them. She watched it all.

At first she hadn't understood what a Ghostbuster was. She had listened to the frosted woman's telephone (another word she hadn't understood at first) call. Then she had put it together. She knew; they were here to chase her away, maybe even kill her. She couldn't let that happen.

Are they there? Can you see them? a familiar voice filled with nervousness entered her mind. The ones she called from New York?

Yes, she answered. Four humans with weapons. Now calm down. They probably won't even be able to find us. She needed to calm her companion down before she got carried away and something happened, like she came out of the forest looking for her and got caught.

Well get closer! the voice urged. Let me see them though your eyes. She sighed, but obliged. When the Ghostbusters were distracted by the frosted-haired woman's explanations she quickly flew closer and hid among the pine needles of a tree on the edge of the parking lot. Thanks, the voice actually calmed down considerably now that she could see her adversaries. A more familiar humorous tone laced through her thoughts. Hmm, the redhead's kind cute.

They're going inside. It was an unnecessary comment; they could both see what was happening with her own eyes. I'm going to follow them in.

Okay, but be careful. Those gun things look dangerous. Don't let them see you. The voice grew serious. You know I couldn't live without you. She reassured her friend she would be cautious and flew silently to the doors after the Ghostbusters had entered. Good thing the small window above the doors was always opened enough for her to squeeze through.

* * *

"Peter," Egon drew back to walk beside him after they were inside. "There was a Class 6 observing us in the parking lot. You saw it didn't you?" Egon could read Peter better than he could read his PKE meter.

"Yeah," Peter confirmed. Okay, so it wasn't a bird or a squirrel. "It was the red one, in a tree."

"I suspected as much. I wonder . . . ." Without finishing his thought the physicist shut down his PKE meter and caught up to Ray. Peter watched as the two scientists conferring in low tones. Probably a new gizmo, he figured.

As Kelly Vanders led them down the large main hallway he looked around. The gold and white wallpaper matched the exterior coloring of the old mansion. Portraits of nobody Peter recognized lined the walls. Every twenty or so feet a door sprang up on both sides of the hall: rooms for customers.

Kelly stopped in front of one of the doors. "The Canters are waiting for you," she explained. She opened the door and walked in with a large smile of greeting on her face. "Hello Cindy, Roger. These are the Ghostbusters," she quickly introduced everyone. "They want to know about that small red . . . thing you saw."

The Canters were a late-twenties couple sitting in large gold and white plush chairs around a glass coffee table. I'm beginning to wish I was back outside, Peter thought. The continuous gold and white decor was annoying, more so than the continuous green of the woods.

Cindy Canter, a petite blond with large brown eyes like a doe, shuddered elaborately. "It was awful. The size of a large cat, with four legs and wings like a bat," her voice was high and tight. "And the eyes! They were bright yellow, and they glowed in the dark, I swear!"

"There there, my dear," Roger Canter, a short snooty-looking man with a gray three piece suit, comforted her. "We were going out to the patio in back. It was there, looking for a way into the building, it looked like. The sun was just setting, which was how we saw its eyes glowing. When it saw us it didn't make a sound. It jumped into the air and flew off for the woods. We quickly lost sight of it with all the trees." Cindy nodded to confirm everything her husband said.

"Wow," breathed Ray when they were done. "Both of the sightings ended with the specter heading for the woods. There must be something out there." His eyes lit up with the prospect. "We gotta check it out!"

* * *

When she heard the human mention the woods she retreated from the doorway quickly. Being so close to so many humans made her very nervous, but she had to see and hear everything she could about what these Ghostbusters could do. She had flown to the top of the doorway and hovered there silently. Luckily, the way all seven humans were positioned made it impossible for them to see her above the door unless they turned, which gave her plenty of time to duck out of sight.

They're coming here? the voice rose to nearly hysterical. They can't! They'll find us!

Peace, she assured her friend. How can they find us in all the wide forest?

I think that weird machine that the blond held can lead them to us, her friend insisted.

Machine? she asked. There were still many human words she didn't understand.

Machine, she repeated. Like a telephone or a car.

Ahh, human magic. That explained it. Human magic always confused her.

Right, now come back to me, please. I'm worried they'll see you.

She reluctantly agreed. She would rather have stayed and watched the human Ghostbusters, but if her friend needed her, she came. The tiny window allowed her through as it always did, and she set off for home.

* * *

Ray was thoroughly enjoying himself in the pine woods of Maine. He had always loved camping, and this was even better because the guys were with him. He held his PKE meter up for the umpteenth time, to look at the reading again.

"The Class 6 is changing direction again guys," he informed the rest of the Ghostbusters. Egon was right behind him with his own PKE meter, Winston behind him, and Peter bringing up the rear.

He heard Peter groan. "Does this gooper know we're following it?" he demanded. "If this is just going to be a wild ghost chase I'm going back to Ecto and taking a nap."

"It's doubtful it knows of our existence," Egon replied, grimacing at the bad pun. "If so it would probably taken some action by now, not just changing directions occasionally."

"Yeah," agreed Winston. "And it's not like it's running away because it's afraid of people or anything, or it wouldn't keep showing up at The Vanders Motel."

Ray pulled back a low hanging branch so he could pass by. "Something's funny about these readings though," he commented. "They're just not normal Class 6 readings."

Egon caught the branch before Ray could let go and have it snap back and smack him. "Yes, I had noticed it before, in the parking lot. Raymond and I were discussing how we might be able to increase the sensitivity of the PKE meter to give us a more precise reading."

"Wait a minute, this Class 6 is giving off weird readings and you don't tell us until after we've been chasing it into the woods for fifteen minutes!" Peter exclaimed. He didn't notice the branch that Winston released and it caught him in the chest.

"Sorry, Pete," Winston grinned when he gave him a sharp glare.

"I'm sorry, Peter." Ray's apology was more sincere than Winston's. "I got so caught up in the Canter's story, then we found the Class 6's trail; I just forgot."

The psychologist muttered something about brainiacs that Ray couldn't hear, but he didn't hold it against him. Peter was just annoyed that they had to drive for hours and then go stomping around in the woods. He didn't enjoy things like this the way Ray did. Then his PKE meter beeped, drawing his attention.

"Changing directions again!" he announced. Peter groaned again, but so softly Ray could barely hear him. Maybe he was warming up to the forest? Ray shook his head with a grin; he doubted it. He turned left and continued to lead the way to the unusual Class 6.

* * *

She waited tensely for her flying companion to return from her spy mission, hopping from one foot to the other nervously. She wanted to call out with her mind, but restrained herself. There was nothing to worry about, she chided herself. She'll come flying through the trees any moment. Besides, it took a lot of concentration to communicate from that distance. Better to just wait for her to arrive, then they'd hide out until those Ghostbusters left. Nothing to worry about.

Suddenly she didn't have to wait to be communicated. A frantic word shot through her mind like a burning arrow: RUN!

The sheer force of the word and the intense feelings behind it, panic, urgency, hopelessness, dazed her and drove her to her knees. She felt like she had been slammed in the head. The world tipped beneath her and she finished her fall, from her knees to lying on the ground.

Wha-what? she managed to whisper in her mind. Her sending was weak, but her friend was close, so she heard.

Run! she repeated, so panicked she failed to notice her companion's words were weak and very faint. They followed me! They'll find you!

Each word sent another great stab of pain through her head. Stop . . . sending . . . she forced out as she felt conscience slipping away. Fear . . . danger coming . . . must run . . . It didn't do any good, her body wouldn't listen. Darkness engulfed her, and she could do nothing to stop it.

* * *

They were chasing her. They had weapons. They would kill them both. She had to do something. Each thought made her more panicked than the last. They were so close behind, them and their damned human magic that could track her, she could hear them crashing though the trees.

When he friend's plea for silence whispered through her panicked mind she fully realized what she had done. The full weight, screaming a thought like that at someone's mind, especially one as fragile as a humans, plunged over her like a wave that dragged you down and held you. When she felt her friend's mind slip into unconsciousness she screamed in anguish, a high piercing roar that drowned out every other sound in the forest. Below her the trees parted at the edge of a clearing. There lay her companion; pale human face with closed eyes facing the sky as if accusing her of her peril. With another scream of rage and sorrow she realized she had led the human killers straight to her! Unable to stay and watch what was sure to be a slaughter below, she wheeled in the air and sailed away as fast as her wings would take her. She never wanted to see another human as long as she lived.

* * *

Ray Stanz froze when the piercing scream tore through the quiet forest. It was so filled with pain and fear it killed his optimism like a gust of wind on a candle flame. He realized it came from the direction of the Class 6 they were following.

The other three Ghostbusters were speechless with surprise as well. Peter finally broke the silence. "What was that?" he asked hoarsely.

"Not human," Egon observed what Ray had known as soon as he heard it. No human could make a noise like that . . . .

Another scream, not too far ahead, shook him out of his shock. "Come on," he heard himself say. Was that his voice? He sounded worse than Peter. Ray headed in the direction of the voice, not noticing when his PKE meter read the Class 6 leaving the area quickly. The guys hurried to catch up with him.

After a few tense minutes the trees parted and Ray stepped into an open clearing. He quickly scanned the area for the owner of the scream or a reason for it. His eyes locked onto a prone figure lying on the ground. "Guys!" He suddenly realized they hadn't caught up with him yet. "Guys?" he called again.

"We're here, Ray," Winston's voice came from behind before he emerged from the woods with Egon and Peter. "What is it?"

But Ray had already started for the figure as soon as he heard Winston's reassuring voice. He crossed the clearing in a second, and was standing over her. It was a teenage girl, pale and unmoving, lying on her back and breathing shallowly. The other three crowded around as he knelt and gently picked up her hand, feeling along her wrist. There was her pulse, too fast but strong. He looked up at his friends. "She's alive," he reported. He shook her gently, but she didn't wake up.

Egon scanned the clearing. "The Class 6 is out of range of the PKE meters," he announced. Then he looked down at the unconscious girl at their feet. "But it would appear we have more urgent matters at hand."

"Well, I'm not carrying her back to the motel," Peter declared.

"Of course not Peter," Ray replied with a grin, standing back up. "You'd collapse before you got ten feet." Peter stuck his tongue out at him.

The occultist looked back down at the teenage girl. She seemed about sixteen or seventeen, with long brown hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in years. Her clothes, jeans and a dark green sweatshirt, were frayed and covered with mud and grass stains.

The clothing clicked in Ray's mind. "Hey, her clothes!" he exclaimed. The other three looked at him, uncomprehending. "Mrs. Vanders ghost! She said it was a teenage girl with torn clothes. She wasn't a ghost after all!" He chuckled at a thought. "I hate to say it, but Peter was right."

Peter drew himself up to his full height. "Of course I was right. But does anyone listen to Peter? Nooooooooo. That's what I get for being a genius--"

"Nice going Ray," Winston groaned. "He's going to be like this for at least a week!"

* * *

Awareness returned slowly, too slowly. Something about danger close by . . . had to run . . . .

Then she heard voices, too close, standing over her. No voices should be that close to her. She never let people see her. The voices got louder with each moment, consciousness was returning she realized. She tried to open her eyes, to see the danger, but her body wasn't ready to respond yet. She groaned instead.

All the voices stopped. She felt a sudden shadow fall over her face as someone bent over her. "Hey, are you okay?" the someone asked. The voice sounded genuinely concerned, but she didn't let it fool her. The person could easily be faking it.

Gathering all her strength, she forced her eyelids up. At first there was only a dazzling whiteness, but that slowly cleared. She found herself staring up into large eyes, as brown as her own. They belonged to a surprising kind face with short auburn hair and a slight smile. This was the great danger she was afraid of?

The . . . Ghostbuster, she dragged the name from her foggy memory, looked up. "I think she's awake," he reported to someone. She didn't follow his gaze. One person this close was enough; she'd get use to the others later, when her head stopped spinning. The others were speaking to the man leaning over her, but she didn't listen to their words. When she pulled that name it was like pulling a plug. Memories flooded over her, and she remembered it all. The Ghostbusters had come for her and--

"Sarmoti?" she asked them. Surprised at the weakness of her own voice, she tried strengthening it. "What did you do to her?" There, that was better.

The man blinked in surprise. "Who--never mind. Just lay back. Do you know what happened to you?" He tried to take her hand in his own but she pulled away.

"Don't touch me," she snapped. Ignoring the look the man gave her she sat up. If she could just get to her feet and run . . . .

Not an option. Just sitting up made her want to loose her lunch. The world spun around again, but this time she couldn't fall any farther. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to watch it.

"I believe she might have a concussion," a deep voice said from above her. She looked up, ignoring the lurch of her stomach and the stab of pain in her head. She was good at ignoring things. She ordered her swimming eyes to focus.

Oh goody, they were all here. All four of them, staring at her with sympathy. Well, she didn't need anyone's pity, certainly not four jerks from New York. She scowled at them to show how impressed she was with them. "I don't have a concussion," she informed the blond. To prove it she climbed to her feet.

Oops, that was a big mistake. It was like sitting up, only ten times worse. Her knees buckled as they decided the forest floor was a better place at the moment.

Suddenly she was in the auburn-haired man's arms. He had grabbed her before she could hit the ground. Under her surprise her anger melted. He caught her. That little realization meant--nothing, she quickly told herself. It was probably just instinct. Still . . . .

The brown-haired one made a sound like a cross between a snort and a chuckle. "Yup, you seem fine to me," he said dryly.

She sighed. These men weren't going to hurt her; they weren't the danger she thought they were. All they had done was be concerned for her. Though it was hard for her, she forced herself to let go of the rest of her anger.

Amazingly, the world righted itself. Her nausea and headache passed. Her feet found the ground wasn't moving. With a murmur of thanks, she gently pushed herself away from the auburn-haired man. He let her.

"I'm Ray," he introduced himself. "That's Egon, Peter and Winston." She filed the names away for further reference.

Now it was her turn, but she hesitated. Giving her name to someone was something she hadn't done for a long, long time. For a moment she considered making one up, but no. These men had been concerned for her and everything. If they were here to hurt her they could have done it when she was knocked out. They deserved the truth, for now. "Sharen," she said shortly, pronouncing it with a short 'a' sound like in 'arch'.

The blond, Egon, pushed his red rimmed glasses up his nose. "What happened to you, Sharen?"

His question suddenly reminded her. "Oh no," she gasped, "Sarmoti!"

The Ghostbusters looked at each other in confusion. "That's the second time you've mentioned that name," Ray said. "Who is it?"

But she ignored them. Closing her eyes, to block out unwanted information being gathered by her sight, she reached out with her mind. Sarmoti? Sarmoti, answer me! Nothing. That scared Sharen to death. Sarmoti had never been out of range of their minds before. They didn't even know how far the link could go. She struggled to control her panic. Her thoughts weren't as strong as Sarmoti's, but she didn't want to knock her friend out with her intense feelings if she was flying somewhere. SARMOTI!

Sh-Sharon? The voice was very faint, as if she was calling from very far away, and sounded doubtful, hopeful and wary all at once. You're alive?

Relief flooded through the teenage girl. Yes, yes my friend. Alive and well, she assured her. Come back to me, please. See how well I am.

But I saw you . . . oh Sharen, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--and what about the human Ghostbusters?

They're good, I promise you that with all my heart. They didn't attack me when they found me, they helped me. They won't hurt you either. She didn't trust them quite that much, but she wanted her friend back with her so badly the words tumbled out.

Sarmoti was silent for a long time. Sharen didn't rush her, much as she wanted to hold her companion in her arms and assure herself she was all right. She understood. No human had ever seen Sarmoti, except for short glimpses and herself of course. And they both knew what humans might do to her . . . but if Sharen was that insistent after just meeting these humans something must have clicked between them. Okay, Sarmoti relented. I'm coming home.

* * *

Ray watched as the girl closed her eyes and stood there for several long moments. The occultist's imagination readily pulled up a theory and his PKE meter confirmed it. "Wow," he exclaimed, his enthusiasm back. "Telepathy!"

Egon scanned her with his own PKE meter. "Hmm," he commented, "fascinating." If the girl was listening she ignored them.

"You mean she's talkin' with the Class 6?" Winston asked in disbelief.

"That would appear to be the case," Egon said. "Though the name Sarmoti does not seem to be familiar to me."

Ray frowned in thought. "Doesn't ring a bell with me either." He pulled out his hand-held Tobin's Spirit Guide from his Ghostbusters jumpsuit pocket. Soon he had buried himself in its contents.

Peter looked at the silent girl warily. "Do you think she's possessed, Spengs?"

"No," Egon said immediately. "There are no traces of the Class 6 in out vicinity. Sarmoti is still out of range of the PKE meters."

Suddenly Sharen opened her eyes. She didn't smile, but she looked relieved. "Sarmoti's coming back," she announced.

Peter pulled his thrower, Egon and Winston followed suit. Ray was still consulting his Tobin's. The psychologist was about to remind him of reality, but Sharen spoke first.

"What are you doing?" she yelped.

Peter smiled reassuringly. "We're the Ghostbusters. We're gonna bust your ghost."

"No! Sarmoti's not a ghost!" Sharen yelled. "I won't let you hurt her." There was a deadly determination behind her voice, as if she was willing to face anything, even death, for this.

Ray finally pulled himself out of his research. "I think she's right. Sarmoti doesn't turn up in any text I searched through. If Sharen says Sarmoti's not a ghost, she's probably right."

"Of course I'm right," the girl snapped. "I think I would know if I've lived with a ghost for the past five years."

Ray was intrigued by what she said. So, there was a story behind this teenage girl found in the middle of nowhere. But it would have to be heard later, right now there was a Class 6 . . . whatever on the way. "Is Sarmoti dangerous?" he asked.

Sharen snorted. "Not unless you make her mad."

Peter cocked a grin. "Well now, we sure wouldn't want to do that."

Anger filled the girl's eyes again. Oops, maybe he shouldn't have said it quite that way. Sharen had obviously had a hard time in life, a big tragedy, and the anger she faced the world with was her protection from being hurt. Ray felt sorry for her, but tried not to let it show. Most people didn't want pity.

"Well I'm sure she's gonna appreciate four strangers with weapons trained on her," Sharen snarled. "Why don't you put them away before she returns and you get hurt."

Peter apparently understood the girl too, because he quickly hooked his thrower back onto his proton pack. Winston and Egon put theirs away as well. Ray, who didn't have his out to begin with, looked at Sharen. She looked surprised and confused. She hadn't expected them to listen to her. "Anything else?" Ray smiled kindly at her.

"N-no," she stammered, still recovering from their open trust. "That's fine."

Peter cocked a lop-sided grin. "So, what happened to you anyway?"

A spark of accusation flashed across her face, but it vanished just as quickly. "You were following Sarmoti through the woods. She couldn't lose you; she--we thought you were going to kill us--"

The four men blanched. "Kill you?" Winston interrupted. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Well, that Mrs. Vanders calls four guys from New York who are known for getting rid of strange occurrences, what are we suppose to think?"

"How are you aware of what happens at The Vanders Motel?" Egon asked, though he had a pretty good idea already.

Sharen confirmed his theory. "Sarmoti is the perfect spy. That motel is the only trace of human civilization for miles. We keep close tabs on it."

"But that still doesn't explain how you got hurt," Ray said.

Sharen paused, as if debating whether or not to answer. "Sarmoti blasted me with a mind message," she admitted. "Knocked me out."

The Ghostbusters were silent for a moment. "This Class 6 can knock people out just by thinking at them?" Peter ventured. "Oh man, I don't like where this is going."

"It was an accident," the teenager insisted. "And it wouldn't have happened if you," she pointed a finger at them accusingly, "hadn't been chasing her around the woods and panicking her."

Ray felt a pang of guilt. They hadn't meant to scare or hurt anyone. "We're sorry," he started. "We didn't mean to hurt anyone . . . ."

Peter knew what was happening. Ray had a thing with blame; he took it all on for himself. If anything ever happened that involved someone feeling guilty Ray found some way to blame himself for it. The psychologist in Peter suspected it came from his past, though Ray rarely talked about his parents' deaths or his foster home. He laid a comforting hand on the young occultist's shoulder.

Sharen stared back at the New Yorkers in disbelief. They were apologizing to her? This day just kept getting weirder and weirder. When she sorted this mess out she was going to have to go somewhere and reevaluate her feelings about the human race in solitude. Never mind the fact that she was a teenage human being, she hated them all for what they had done to Sarmoti and what they hadn't done for her. But these Ghostbusters . . . were there still good people in this world? "It's all right," she found herself saying. "No permanent harm done."

"So, where is this Class 6 whatever-of-yours?" Peter demanded lightly, scanning the sky as if he expected the creature to appear out of it.

Sharen almost smiled, but stopped herself just in time. No human had seen her smile in over five years; she wasn't about to break the tradition now. But a message from her friend produced an answer to the green-eyed man's question. "There!" She pointed to a dark speck high overhead of the clearing.

The speck grew steadily larger until a body and wings could be discerned. Suddenly the wings swept back and the figure plummeted faster and faster to the earth. Like a falcon diving on its prey she kept her wings pinned to her sides and fell like a stone.

Ray tensed as the creature dived and saw his friends do the same. Only Sharen was at ease, staring up at the sky, her eyes bright with happiness, even though her face still showed a trace of a scowl. He understood that it was only a mask, a cover for her emotions. Then he returned his gaze to the falling figure. It was much closer now; in a few seconds it would crash into the ground . . . or them.

At the last possible second the red blur threw open her wings. The sudden resistance of the wind made her rise a few feet into the air, then gently settle into Sharen's arms. The Ghostbusters slowly relaxed.

Ray got a good look at the creature, then did a double-take. She was about the size of a large cat, covered in bright red, lustrous scales, with a long face connected to a thin sinuous neck that matched her tail. Big red leathery wings rose from behind her shoulders, and each of her four feet were tipped with sharp talons. Small spines rose from between her cupped, pointed ears and continued to the tip of her tail. She wasn't a ghost, that was for sure! She was . . . no, she couldn't be . . . could she?

"Is that a . . . ?" Winston ventured, but didn't finish his thought.

The girl took in their stunned silence without comment. "Sarmoti is a dragon," she supplied for them.

"Wow! A dragon!" exclaimed Ray with delight.

Peter backed up a pace and found his voice. "Dragon?" he frowned.

"Yes, dragon," Sharen confirmed. "And don't look at her that way, she's a friend."

"Aren't dragons suppose to be bigger?" the psychologist asked.

But Sharen took the remark as an insult. Her eyes flashed with repressed anger. "She's not done growing yet," she snapped. "They're suppose to eat people too, in case you forgot!"

Ray stepped in before she could continue. "Peter didn't mean anything by it," he quickly assured her.

She watched the Ghostbusters warily while Sarmoti climbed from her arms to her usual place on her shoulders, her scaly head on one side and her long tail trailing down the other. Let your anger go, the young dragon insisted in her mind. I was wrong about these humans. They're good, not evil. You can trust them.

Sharen closed her eyes and Ray recognized the gesture: they were communicating again. He was fascinated, both by the dragon and the telepathy. To be able to instantly share thoughts mind to mind, the possibilities were endless!

Sharen's hard features softened as she listened to the dragon. With a sigh, she opened her eyes. "Well?" she asked the four men. "What are you going to do with us?"

The Ghostbusters exchanged blank looks.

* * *

"You poor child!" Mrs. Vanders exclaimed when the four Ghostbusters she hired brought back a dirty, scruffy-looking teenage girl. "I'm sorry I thought you were a ghost, dear," the woman continued, "but you must admit, you acted a bit strangely."

Sharen stared at the kind face with a blank expression. She didn't like people, but when the Ghostbusters had suggested she go back to The Vanders Motel with them she had reluctantly agreed. Now that humans knew about her, she knew she couldn't just hide from civilization anymore. She would have to join the human world. The thought was more scary than anything she had faced since . . . her exile from humanity. Only the fact that the four humans she had almost come to trust, the Ghostbusters, would be there to help her adjust to her new life gave her the courage to walk into the gold and white motel. And Sarmoti's encouragement, of course.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence Kelly Vanders smiled nervously. "I understand how confused you must be," she sympathized. "How about you sit down here and I'll make you some dinner?" The girl didn't reply, but she did sit down in the chair Kelly offered. The woman took it as an affirmative and left for the kitchen.

After they were alone Sharen visibly relaxed. Ray sat in a chair by the girl and patted her shoulder comfortingly. She stiffened, then leaned into his touch. Why did these humans have to come and change her entire way of life? And why did she feel so grateful for them for doing it?

Egon cleared his throat. "We should explain to Mrs. Vanders about the situation," he said. "And the police may have to be contacted." The moment he said the words he knew it was a mistake. The girl's head snapped up, her brown eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry," Ray assured her. Turning to the others he told them to go ahead. "I'll stay with Sharen," he added.

Egon and Winston left to find Kelly Vanders, but Peter pulled up a third chair and dropped into it. "Egon and Winston can handle all that," he said as an explanation when they looked at him.

Sharen squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears of fear. "You--you won't let them take me away. . . will you?" she whispered, eyes still shut.

A gentle hand cupped her chin and turned her head. She opened her eyes to find intense green ones looking into hers, locking her sight with his own. "No one is taking you anywhere without us, and that's a promise from Doctor Venkman," Peter vowed.

A small sigh of shaky relief escaped Sharen's lips and she almost--almost smiled. He saw her fighting to keep the corners of her lips from tipping up, but she smiled with her eyes, and it was good enough for him. "I don't want to be around other people," she told them. Then she tipped her head, as if listening to a voice in the distance. "Yet," she added reluctantly.

Sarmoti, Peter realized. The psychologist in him recognized the emotional scarring of the girl, but he had no clue as to why Sharen hated the entire human world. He also knew it wasn't the time to ask. The sudden changes in her life had to be settled first, then she could confront her past. And the Ghostbusters will be there when she does, Peter swore to himself.

* * *

Egon found Kelly in the great gold and white kitchen of the converted mansion. She was standing over a pot of stew, stirring. When he and Winston entered she looked up and smiled. "Hello, Dr. Spengler, Mr. Zeddemore," she greeted them. Before they could say anything she added, "That poor girl. What are you going to do about her?"

"That's what we came to talk to you about," Winston said.

"I still don't really understand. What was she doing at my motel? And what about that red ghost?" Kelly demanded.

Egon took a seat at the kitchen table. Winston sat down next to him. Kelly turned down the temperature on the stove and covered the pot. Then she sat down across from the two men. Egon pushed his red rimmed glasses up his nose and considered what to say. Sharen had told them a little about her and Sarmoti, but only after she made them all promise they would never reveal the dragon to another human being.

"You won't have to worry about the second apparition," he told her truthfully. "It won't be seen again."

"You caught it?" the woman asked.

"We took care of it," he replied.

"Good, but what about . . . Sharen, was it?" At a nod from the two she continued. "What happened to her?"

"Well, she wouldn't tell us everything," Winston admitted. "And she tried to avoid the topic all together. From what she did say we know something happened to her when she was twelve. She won't talk about her family, but she was alone from then on. She says she's lived in the woods behind this motel for five years."

"Alone in the woods for five years? How awful," Kelly murmured. "How did she survive?"

Egon shook his head. "We're not sure, but apparently she has enough knowledge of the wilderness and the edible vegetation to keep herself healthy, and you mentioned things missing from your establishment?" Not to mention the fact that she had a little help . . . .

A light of understanding entered the woman's hazel eyes. "That would explain why my blankets always disappeared right before winter's first storm." She stood. "Well, that would also explain the poor dear's appearance. I'd better get this stew to her." She got a tray and filled a bowl. "We can discuss what we'll do with her after she's had a meal and gone to bed." Egon and Winston rose and followed her out of the kitchen.

* * *

Kelly Vanders closed the door to the sitting room where the Ghostbusters had first met the Canters behind her. They were there now, waiting for her to return. "She's asleep in one of the spare bedrooms," she informed the assembled men.

They were sitting around the glass coffee table. On it sat a single newspaper clipping. "I found this in the Waterville Public Library," Winston explained, and passed it to her as she took a seat. She scanned the date of the article: seventeen years ago. Her interest perked, Kelly quickly read the short paper. It was a birth announcement.

WATERVILLE-

Yesterday, March 25, a sweet daughter born to accountant Robert and teacher Tanya Draffin. "We have great expectations for Sharen," Mrs. Draffin says. "I know she'll go far in life. . . .

The article went on to say, among a few other things, how the Draffins had just moved to Waterville from Portland and were pleased with how friendly the neighborhood had welcomed them.

Kelly looked up from the clipping. "Did you try looking up the Draffins?" she asked the black man, who had left a few hours before to look for clues to the strange girl's origins.

Winston nodded. "There aren't any Draffins living anywhere near here. And no one I asked knew them. The Waterville school never had a Mrs. Draffin teaching there, and no local accounting agencies I called knew of a Mr. Robert Draffin. It's like the family never existed." He sighed. "I don't know where else to look."

"What about the newspapers?" Ray asked. "Were the Draffins ever in it again?"

Winston shrugged. "There was a fire at the library a year ago. They lost about four years of newspapers, including the year Sharen was twelve."

"So, what do you think should happen?" Kelly asked the four Ghostbusters. Though she had only met them that day, she rather liked them. She trusted their judgments, and besides, the girl's act hadn't fooled her. That child was scared the death of anyone but the four men who rescued her.

"As much as she will fear it, we have to contact the police," Egon said. "They can look for her next of kin much easier and faster than we can."

"And I can search here," Kelly put in. "Someone must have heard of her family at one time or another. The only thing I'm worried about is where the poor child will stay 'til somone is found."

Ray spoke up. "Well that's easy. She'll come and stay with us." At the surprised looks on the other three men's faces he quickly explained. "She's scared of anyone else guys. If we just let the police come and take her to some foster home she might never be comfortable enough to adjust to society.

They talked for awhile before agreeing on a plan. The police would be contacted in the morning and if it was all right with them, and if she was willing, Sharen would stay with them until someone was found.

* * *

Sharen waited until she heard the door of the bedroom close and Mrs. Vanders footsteps faded away down the hall. Then she threw the blankets off her and climbed out of the huge canopy bed. She went to the window and opened it, inhaling the cool night air with relief. It was going to rain in a few days, she noted.

Sharen couldn't sleep. It didn't surprise her, she knew she wasn't going to sleep in a giant plush bed heaped with blankets and pillows. Not that it wasn't comfortable; it was like sleeping on a cloud, but she had gotten use to sleeping in a pale of leaves with thick tree branches, or in the wide boughs of a pine tree. The bed was just too comfortable.

Even if she did have her usual bed she doubted she would have slept. Too much had happened that day; her whole life was changing. Her mind was filled with questions about her and Sarmoti. What was going to happen to them? A part of her wanted to climb out the window and run away, forget all about good humans. She still couldn't believe that. But another, stronger part of her knew this was where she belonged. The forest had been her home for five long years, and she was totally happy there, but a small voice in the back of her head had always told her she didn't really belong there. She still had farther to go in life.

And there was one last reason why she couldn't sleep. A small, but important reason that her dragon friend was taking care of at that moment. There she was now, Sharen saw. Poor Sarmoti, trying to fly with something bigger than she was. Good thing it was just bulky and not heavy or they would have had a real problem on their hands.

I'm over here, Sharen called out with her mind. Standing by the open window.

The dark red form in the night changed direction in flight. In a few seconds she was hovering by the open window. The human girl backed up as she shoved the object in first, then tumbled into the room after it.

Sharen picked up the object and set it on the bed. Then she picked up Sarmoti, on the floor catching her breath, and deposited her on her shoulders. Thank you my friend. You know how much this means to me.

She relaxed against her friend's neck and smiled, not a very relaxing sight considering it showed her small needle-sharp teeth very effectively. Of course I do. It was nothing.

The girl retrieved the object again as she sat down on the edge of the bed, inspecting it for any changes since she'd last put it away. Most forest animals left it alone, but she checked anyway. It was worn and tattered, and missing patches of fake fur in some places, but it had been like that for a long time. It had brown button eyes and a flower sewn behind one cloth ear, with a matching one sewn around its neck. It was overstuffed, and right in the middle of its chubby face was a large round nose that looked like a chocolate, which was where the stuffed animal had gotten its name.

"Oh, Bon Bon," the teenager sighed. She hugged the teddy bear tighter. Then she pulled herself up to the head of the bed and leaned against the wooden frame. She gathered the blankets around her, Sarmoti and the stuffed animal and waited, not for sleep to claim her, but for morning to come.

* * *

She was sound asleep in ten minutes. Sarmoti grinned a dragon grin. She knew the human child only needed the stuffed bear, that she hadn't slept for five years without, and she would be dreaming in moments. Sarmoti carefully crawled off her friend's shoulders and onto the bed frame. Sharen stirred but didn't wake.

What Sarmoti planned next was dangerous, but she was doing it anyway. She was glad Sharen was back with her own kind, but she still felt uneasy. The Ghostbusters were good humans, but there were bad ones out there that would harm her. And me as well, the young dragon knew.

Sarmoti silently launched herself into the air and fluttered across the room. It wasn't easy, but she managed to grasp the gold doorknob in her scaly claws and turn. The door opened an inch and she stuck her tail in before it could close again. With a twirl she had opened the door and shot out into the hall.

There she paused in midair, listening with her mind and ears. Her ears her nothing but snoring from behind some closed doors. Her mind, on the other hand, quickly found the four minds of the human Ghostbusters. Sarmoti couldn't read thoughts, and she could only send mind messages to Sharen, because they were linked. But she could feel the essence of a mind she had been close to. The Ghostbusters were . . . that way. She wheeled and set off down the hall.

The red dragon soon came to the door she felt the humans she was looking for were behind. She couldn't enter, they might not be alone, but she could listen and see if they were talking about Sharen. She needed to find out what was going to happen to her friend, and dangers of being seen be damned. So she sank to the white carpet of the hall-way and pressed her ear to the space where the bottom of the door met the floor.

". . . . easy. She'll come and stay with us," the human Ray Stanz was saying. Sarmoti blinked her large yellow eyes in surprise. Of course! It was perfect; she should have seen it before. Sharen practically trusted these humans already, and they knew about her. Which met she wouldn't have to secretly stay with Sharen. She had never planned on leaving her linked companion, and this would make it so much easier!

She crouched there, luckily unseen by any humans, for what seemed like hours. When the frosted-haired woman finally offered the Ghostbusters beds she knew they were about to leave the room.

With speed she didn't know she had the dragon returned to Sharen's room. She didn't want to wake her friend, but she had so much good news to tell her!

* * *

The next morning when Sharen awoke the blue and red lights of a police cruiser were already flashing against her window. The girl shot up in fear when she recognized what they meant, then hurriedly got dressed. After what Sarmoti had told her she decided she would love to stay with the Ghostbusters, and the police seemed to be the only thing that could stand in her way. They might insist she go with them. She didn't want that.

But before she could run out of the room to go in search of her rescuers a knock froze her in her tracks. When she heard Ray's voice calling she sighed in relief and called for him to come in.

He pushed open the door to the bedroom. His first impression was that it was chilly in the room, then he saw the open window. Sarmoti was perched there, bearing her teeth in what he hoped was a grin.

Sharen had changed from the large T-shirt Kelly had given her to sleep in back into the clothes they had first met her in. She was hugging something against her chest, a . . . teddy bear? "Ray!" she greeted him.

"'Morning Sharen," he replied with a grin. He came over and sat on the edge of the bed. "'Morning Sarmoti," he called to the small red dragon.

Sharen blinked in pleased surprise. Well, she had been worried the Ghostbusters would treat her friend like some sort of pet or wild animal, but if any humans were going to talk to her like an intelligent being she realized it would be them.

"Can I talk to you, Sharen?" he asked the teenage girl. She nodded, almost eagerly. "Peter, Egon, Winston and I talked it over with Kelly Vanders last night. You probably saw the police lights from your window. That's where they are right now, finishing up talking with the sheriff. The police say it's okay with them, but you have to give them your consent. If it's all right with you, I'd like you to--"

"--Come live with you in New York," Sharen finished for him unexpectedly.

It was his turn to be surprised. "How did you--Never mind, I can guess," Ray shook his head in fond exasperation.

"Dragons make the perfect spies," she confirmed again. Sarmoti crooned in agreement.

The occultist waited a few moments for her to say something, but she only looked at him thoughtfully, her expression unreadable. Finally, he asked her, "Well?"

She sighed and hugged the stuffed bear tighter. "I'd love to," she replied without enthusiasm.

He frowned. He hadn't known if she would hate the idea or love it, but he had expected some reaction from the girl. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

Sharen shrugged and shook her head. "Not your fault," she murmured, still lost in thought. Her eyes focused on him abruptly, as if suddenly seeing him for the first time. "Actually, it kinda is." He winced, and she saw. "I mean, it's not your fault it's your fault. I mean . . . oh!" She sighed again, this time in frustration. "I don't know what I mean. For five years I worried about my next meal, or the upcoming winter. Life was so black and white, and now it's suddenly so confusing . . ." Her gaze turned pleading, then began to shine with wetness. "I feel so alone."

Ray leaned over to pat her arm and caught her in surprise when she threw herself into his arms, a sob caught in her throat. She buried her face against his shoulder and tried to hold in her tears. When she felt him tighten his hold on her instead of push her away, like she had half been expecting, the little control she had over herself broke and the tears squeezed through her tightly shut eyelids. She hadn't cried in front of another human for five years either, but this was a tradition she couldn't stop from breaking.

Ray gently ran a hand threw her long brown hair. "It's all right," he whispered. "It's all right. We're here. You won't ever be alone."

She tried to reply, but her throat was lodged with a large lump she couldn't talk past. Finally she managed to whisper, "Why?"

Ray grasped her shoulders in his hands and pulled her back so he could look in her teary eyes. "You are worth it," he said strongly. "You always will be."

Sharen nodded and drew a shaky breath. She scrubbed her face with the back of her hand and drew away from him completely. Her searching hands found the gray-brown bear, which eased some of the pain stitched on her face.

The little red dragon was suddenly there on the bed, her alien face filled with concern. Sarmoti gently laid a scaly hand on her arm, obviously communing with the girl. Ray squashed the urge to take PKE readings while they were communicating mind-to-mind and just tried to be a comforting presence.

Sharen sighed and Ray found two sets of eyes gazing at him. "Sorry," she said. "I don't know what--"

"Hey." Ray put up a hand to stop her fumbling explanations a threw her a tentative smile. "It's okay."

The girl looked all the better for the outpour. Suddenly she sat up straight, her eyes fixed on something behind him. Ray turned, and smiled. Peter Venkman, stood at the door, a slight grin on his face. Sharen exhaled in amused annoyance and rolled her eyes. "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded.

"Long enough," he replied. "And now that we're all alive, awake and well--most of us anyway--go tell the cops you want to leave so we can hit the road! I want to be back in the Big Apple before the next millennium!"

* * *

"Thank you again, Kelly." Peter shook her hand after she paid them, in cash. They were back in the parking lot of The Vanders Motel. Winston was already behind the wheel of Ecto-1, waiting for the rest of them. Egon and Ray were loading up the rear of the hearse. Sarmoti, who had sneaked into the white vehicle after the cops left with all their information and a brief interview with Sharen, was hiding in the back among the equipment.

Sharen was leaning against the back door of Ecto, watching the woods with a far-away look in her dark brown eyes. The dragon sensed the seriousness of her mood. What's wrong? she asked her friend.

Sharen didn't change her expression, but turned her gaze inward, to her cherished link between her and her companion. Just thinking about leaving home, she replied.

Don't think of it as leaving home; think of it as gaining a family.

Sharen blink at this. Family? She looked at the psychologist still conversing with Kelly Vanders, then to the two scientists loading up equipment, then to the black man behind the wheel. Family? Well, it didn't sound too bad to her.

She pushed herself away from the Ecto-1 and approached the frosted-haired woman. Peter and Kelly stopped their discussion when they saw she was heading for them. "Yes, dear?" Kelly asked the girl.

"I wanted to thank you," Sharen admitted. "For dinner and the bed and . . . I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For stealing from you and your guests and scaring everyone with pretend ghosts."

The woman laughed softly. "It's all right dear. We're just glad you're going to be well taken care of."

"That's right, nobody takes care of people better than the Ghostbusters," Peter chimed in. "Now why don't you go climb in Ecto, kid. I'll be right behind ya."

The teenager tried to glare at him, but found she couldn't hold the look on her face. She stuck her tongue out at him instead. "Don't call me kid," Sharen said, but obediently turned and headed back toward the white vehicle.

Egon and Ray had already climbed in, Egon in the front next to Winston and Ray out back. Sharen slid in next to the occultist. Since she was rather small for her age Peter would be able to fit in with them.

"Here." The auburn-haired man smiled and handed her the gray-brown teddy bear. She took it gratefully, but carefully kept a wary look on her face. She couldn't have any of them asking her about the object; it was too personal. The three men weren't stupid. They saw the look and her tense posture and conveniently forgot to ask.

Peter opened the back door and climbed in. "Let's get this show on the road!" he griped good-naturally as he slammed the door shut. Winston rolled his eyes as he pulled out onto the Waterville main road. "And no getting lost this time," the psychologist chided.

"Easy for you to say, Pete," the black man grumbled, remembering the day before, "you weren't driving."

A wicked glint started in the quiet teenager's eyes as a plan came to her, but she doused it quickly before anyone noticed. Silently she whispered her idea to Sarmoti, still hidden in the very back of the vehicle. Dragon laughter echoed in her mind; she easily agreed. "So, what's New York City like?" Sharen asked innocently.

"Big," Ray answered, "and dangerous. Don't go wandering around without one of us. You could get lost or hurt or--"

"Yes, Dad," she interrupted. Sarmoti informed her she was in position. Sharen forced her face straight and gave the go-ahead.

"Yeah, 'big' pretty much sums up New York City," Peter joined in. "Wait to you see the Statue of Liberty. She makes all these trees look like toothpicks. Why we once--ahhhhh!"

Heads snapped around to see what had made the man yelp. Winston managed to keep his eyes on the road. Suddenly the entire hearse was filled with laughter. Sarmoti had unexpectedly jumped onto the psychologist's shoulder and scared the living daylights out of him. Even Sharen managed to look very amused without smiling.

Peter, on the other hand, was not amused. He rose his voice to be heard over the laughter. "Oh, very funny guys. Get away from me you flying lizard!" He swatted at the red dragon, who quickly sought refuge in Sharen's arms. Her yellow eyes were wide, her dragon grin wider, and the noise she made sounded amazingly like a dry chuckle.

He just rolled his green eyes as the laughter slowly died, leaving a content silence behind. At least they had the decency not to tease him about it. They're probably just waiting for the right moment, he grumbled to himself. Even the dragon looks smug! It was going to be a long trip.

* * *

Ray smiled with content and turned his head slightly to gaze at the teenage girl at his side. She had fallen asleep over an hour ago, the teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms, leaning against his shoulder.

Sarmoti was lying along the back of the front seat between Winston and Egon's shoulders, gazing at her human companion with a fond smile of her own. Abruptly the dragon frowned and peered closer into Sharen's face, as if she could see what was written inside. Well, maybe she can, the occultist reasoned, returning his eyes to the girl. Her brow was creased as if in fierce concentration. She began shivering violently, even though it was early summer. A soft whimper escaped her lips.

Egon, who had twisted around to try to take PKE measurements of Sarmoti, (unsuccessfully, since the dragon gave him a sharp-toothed glare and growled when he switched the meter on) raised his eyes from the device. Peter, attempting to sleep, suddenly opened an eye and cocked an eyebrow. Winston shot a glance to the back seats. "What happened?" he asked.

"She's asleep," Egon informed him. "It would appear--" He fell silent as a small wail interrupted him.

"Momma!" Sharen cried in her sleep. Her voice was high and choked, making her sound like a little girl. "No, don't go, please! I begged you not to go, but you and Daddy went away and didn't come back. Please don't go, I begged . . . ." Her voice trailed off and the shivering turned to shudders that shook her whole frame.

Before anyone could do or say a thing Sarmoti cocked her scaly head and gently blew a warm breath of air onto the girl's face. Her shudders stopped immediately and her face smoothed as she resumed her peaceful slumber. The dragon raised her head to find the humans' eyes fixed on her. She drew a deep breath and opened her jaws. To the surprise of everyone awake in the vehicle a voice emerged from the needle-sharp maw. "Her dreams trouble her when great change comes." The voice was soft, but easy enough to understand. Each word was clearly and slowly enunciated, making it obvious this wasn't her original language.

For a full minute there was only a shocked silence. Peter finally shook his head in amazement. "This just keeps getting weirder and weirder," he commented. "Not that that's not normal for us, mind you."

The red dragon ducked her head, as if embarrassed. Another deep breath, then, "It is difficult to make human speech with dragon mouth. I prefer mindsinging."

The humans looked confused. "Telepathy?" Ray ventured. She realized the humans didn't understand the dragon words for things. She nodded, remembering Sharen explaining the word before.

The silence that followed stretched to awkwardness. It was broken by Egon, who now knew the dragon could understand human language and asked her if he might run some scans. Her reaction was not what he had in mind.

Sarmoti jumped to her four feet, wings unfolding, doubling her size. She actually hissed. "No," she said bluntly, fury expressed in her reptilian voice. "Dragons must not be real to humans, not ever again."

The angry dragon was taking up most of the space between the front and back seats. The Ghostbusters froze. "Sarmoti, what are you doing now?" The voice belonged to Sharen, unexpectedly awake. The red mythical creature curled up protectively in her lap, staring up at the teenager in such a way that was obvious they were communicating. She quickly explained to her companion what had happened while she was asleep.

The four New Yorkers waited expectantly as a look of puzzlement, then anger, quickly followed by understanding passed over Sharen's face. She looked up, suddenly realizing all eyes (except Winston's) were on her. The girl grimaced at memories not her own.

"I'm sorry guys, I should've warned you," she amended. "Humans and dragons have a terrible history . . . Sarmoti was afraid you were going to record proof of dragons on that thing and show it to the world."

"Yeah, right," Peter snorted. "As if anyone would believe us, proof or not."

"I was merely curious," Egon explained. Sharen nodded her understanding.

"What do you mean 'terrible history'?" Ray asked, intrigued.

"Long story."

"We're not going anywhere," Winston reminded her from behind the wheel. He had obviously been listening to everything that been happening, even if his eyes had stayed on the road.

"Right," Ray agreed, taking a notepad and stub of pencil out of his coveralls. "Go ahead."

With your permission? she asked her flying companion. It was her people's history, after all. Even though she doubted the Ghostbusters would tell anyone . . . and was Ray seriously going to take notes? The dragon consented easily, now that she had been calmed down by her friend.

"Originally," she began, "there were two intelligent species on the planet: the dragon clans and the humans. The humans lived together in small communities, hunting, raising children; it was a long time ago. None of this--" Sharen paused in her story to wave at the scenery out the window. They were passing through a small city. "Dragons lived in huge caves in remote areas, the mountains and such, much the same as humans lived actually, but the two civilizations kept apart. The dragons watched the humans evolve, but they didn't announce themselves. The humans didn't know the dragon existed.

"After the humans started growing and raising their own food and using other animals for transportation the dragons were even more cautious. But one day a mother dragon, Fireflame, found an orphaned human child in the forest, far from any human communities. Fireflame adopted the girl into her family. She raised the child, who was so young she could say nothing but her own name, Anica, with her own hatchlings.

"But dragons age much more slowly than humans. I think they live for a millennia, at least. Sarmoti herself is almost two hundred years old, but to dragons she's a teenager like me. Fireflames's hatchlings were still infants when Anica had grown from a girl into a woman. The dragon family knew she couldn't stay.

"Darkstar, the father, brought Anica back to one of the human settlements. The woman had been raised by dragons; she knew very little about humans. When she told her tale to the people of the town, at first, no one believed her. People had seen dragons by accident, and there had been rumors, but no one had proof of their existence. Anica told the settlers everything she knew. People began to get frightened by the way she told her story she surely and with so detailed facts. In a week new rumors had spread for leagues around. The humans said the dragons stole children from their very beds as they slept. That they were devourers of life, killers, pure evil.

"Then the slaughter began. Warriors sought out entire clans of dragons. The rumors grew like wildfire. Some lived solely for the purpose of destroying all dragons on the face of the earth."

"Genocide," remarked Ray, pausing in his furious scribbling.

"What?" Sharen asked.

"The extermination of an entire race," Egon explained.

Sharen nodded sorrowfully and continued. "The dragons were larger than the humans, and had their defenses, but the humans were just too many. They were being murdered at an extraordinary rate. Finally, the few dragons that were left gathered at the 'high-point' of all the cosmic energy on earth, somewhere in Europe I think. They used every last resource they had, dragon magic, I mean, and opened a portal to another dimension." Here Sharen paused, daring them to object or laugh, but they just nodded as if she had said something perfectly sensible.

"Well, that's it. They had to leave their world or be exterminated." She shook herself as if coming out of a trance. Suddenly she realized what had happened. Sarmoti! I told you never to do that again!

Sorry, the red dragon, still in Sharen's arms, apologized. I just wanted to be sure you told it right.

Well, you could have told be you were going to take over my body.

I did not! I simply spoke through you.

Just warn me next time. The young dragon agreed.

". . . . that's amazing," Ray was saying. "It also explains a lot about dragon mythology and stories. The rumors of maiden sacrifices must have been started by Anica's return."

Peter just shook his head. "So, if all the dragons left, how'd the flying lizard get stuck here?"

Now that Sharen was in control of her own mouth, she wasn't as sure of herself. She was still getting use to being around so many people. "I-I'm not sure," she stammered slightly. "The Great Crossing, which is what the dragon's call their escape, happened long before Sarmoti was born. But when the dragons went through that portal, it kinda shattered into tons of little portals that spread all over the world. They can still be opened, but only at certain times at certain places, and only dragons can trigger them. Sarmoti was born in the dragon's new world, but five years ago one of the portals in Maine was opened and Sarmoti accidentally came through. We were both alone--" She avoided their eyes by keeping her head down and looking at the dragon in her lap, "--so we teamed up. We've been together ever since."

"Fascinating," was Egon's opinion on the whole thing. "Do you know the whereabouts of any of these portals? I'd like to examine one--for purely personal reasons," he added hastily when Sarmoti turned to glare at him.

Sharen shrugged. "Sarmoti can feel them," she replied. "If she wants to, of course," she added with a wicked glint in her eye. Sarmoti grinned.

Before Egon could reply to that Winton spoke up. "Hey Sharen, check it out." He gestured out the windshield.

The teenage girl leaned forward to peer out the large front window. What she saw made her jaw drop and her eyes widen in shock. Peter and Ray shared a knowing smile behind her back. The small dragon climbed onto her shoulder to share the view. "What is it?" Sharen managed to find her voice.

"That's New York City," Ray told the stunned girl.

"Home sweet home," Peter added.

Sharen leaned back in the seat again, still somewhat dazed by the immensity of the city before them. She swallowed several times. "Big," she finally said. The Ghostbusters laughed as they finally returned home.

* * *

Janine Melnitz finished filing her nail. She set down the filer and observed her work. Perfect, as always. She sighed. The firehouse the served as Ghostbuster Central was always so quiet when the guys were gone.

Then a crash was hears upstairs. Well, almost quiet, the secretary corrected herself. "Slimer?" she called.

A guilty green face appeared through the ceiling above the redhead's desk. "Janine?" the ghost asked in his high nasal voice.

"What did you do?" Janine demanded.

"Nothing," insisted Slimer. He shook his slimy head back and forth and disappeared into the ceiling again.

Janine decided not to go upstairs and see for herself. If she did, she would end up cleaning the mess she knew was up there. I'm a receptionist, not a maid. Let the guys find it when they get back.

As if answering her thoughts a familiar white vehicle pulled up through the large double doors of the front of the firehouse, open to let in the early summer breeze.

The Ghostbusters opened all four doors of the converted hearse at once and piled out into the large reception area that housed a space for the Ecto-1 and Janine's desk, where she answered the phone and received clients. They looked none the worse for wear, she gladly noted. Then she saw they weren't alone.

Why would the guys return from Maine with a teenage girl? She knew for a fact that none of them had relatives up there. The girl looked like she had just stepped out a fight with a wolverine. Her hair was a shaggy mess, her skin was covered with smudged dirt and mud. Her clothes looked like they had been sent through a shredder. She clutched a ragged teddy bear in her arms, her mouth hanging open and gazing about like she's never been in a building before. And what was that creature on her shoulders?

The girl's traveling brown eyes finally settled on Janine. They grew wide with a look of . . . fear? She backed away slowly until she was beside Ray, who put a reassuring arm around the girl and whispered something in her ear that seemed to calm her.

Before Janine could demand an explanation Peter and Egon darted forward. Winston started unloading and Ray steered the wary girl around the secretary's desk and up the side-stairway. It was such a smooth and quick operation the redhead suspected it had all been planned.

"Okay, what's going on?" she demanded of the three remaining men.

"The girl's name's Sharen. She's bunking with us for awhile," Peter casually replied, as if they always came home with strange girls, and not just him.

Egon's explanation was a bit more thorough. "We found Sharen living in the forest behind Mrs. Vanders' establishment. She has no next of kin that she is aware of, and the authorities aloud her to stay with us until they can be found."

Janine took a moment to digest the physicist's statement. "So the girl lived in the woods, huh? How long?"

"Five years," Peter said.

She blinked in surprise. Five years? Sheesh, no wonder she looked like she did. She didn't even ask about the creature, she was sure she didn't want to know. After shaking her head at Winston's question of whether or not they had gotten any calls while they had been gone, Janine returned to addressing the late payment notices she had started before the broken nail had interrupted her.

Peter stretched and trudged upstairs. A smirk crossed the secretary's face as a shout was heard from above, followed by "SLIMER!"

* * *

Sharen sighed in ecstasy as the hot water of the shower washed over her long hair and down her back. She hadn't done this for over five years, and she was majorly overdue. When Ray had pointed her toward the bathroom and promised to bring her some clean clothes she had been so close to smiling she had had to bite her cheek to keep her lips from betraying her. From the look on the short man's face she hadn't needed to.

I don't understand, came the familiar dragon voice in her mind. Why won't you show your happiness to humans? She was lying on the rim of the sink when Sharen had stepped into the hot water.

I can't, was the only reply she could think of. If I do, it'd be like admitting I'm happy here.

And you're not? Sarmoti knew that wasn't true. She felt the happiness radiate off her friend like heat whenever the Ghostbusters were around.

No! Of course I'm happy. But, if I admit it, it might . . . . She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.

She didn't need to. It might end? the red dragon said.

I loved my parents, was the reply. Then Sarmoti understood. Sharen was afraid to get close to another human for fear of losing them. Well, we'll just see about that, the dragon decided. She told Sharen she was going to see what the Ghostbusters were up to.

Just close the door behind you. The dragon complied and was gone, leaving the girl alone with her hot water and memories.

* * *

The dragon found the human named Peter Venkman lounging in front of black box with moving pictures on it. The brown-haired human was pointing a small black rectangle at the box and changing the pictures. When he saw her he put lowered the rectangle. "You want something, flying lizard?" he asked.

She nodded and settled on the arm of the couch. The topic she was about to attempt would have to be explored very cautiously, but she wasn't above trying, not for Sharen's sake. She took a breath. "Sharen needs you." Speaking human wasn't easy; she refrained from doing it at all unless she needed to, but it was the only way she could communicate with humans. Dragons mindsang to one another as their language; humans kept their minds too closed to. Sharen was the exception, who talked and mindsang with equal ease. Her mind had been so open with grief when they had met she had slipped a mindsong in. But the force of two different species connecting had fused their minds together. They were linked, from here to eternity. No human mind she had found since was open enough to mindsing with.

The expression on the human's face was mocking. "What, did she forget how the shower works? I'd be happy to--"

He stopped when a dangerous noise came from the small dragon. "You will not mock her," was the sharp reply. "Sharen is troubled. She needs a human who understands human feelings to help her."

"And?" Peter asked coolly.

"And . . . you do this, do you not?"

"How do you know?" He was suddenly wary. If this thing could read minds . . . .

"Coming to this large human settlement. Sharen slept. You slept. Others talked. I listened, learned much."

The psychologist relaxed. There were plenty of things in his head he didn't want read through like a term paper. He had dozed off for awhile, and the guys might have mentioned his psychology background. He nodded to Sarmoti in response to her question. "Yeah, I noticed too. But you can't just make someone do what they aren't ready for. She has to come to me and want to confront whatever it is."

She seemed to absorb this for several moments. "I will speak to her," was the final answer.

Peter turned his attention back to the TV, expecting the dragon to go do whatever it was dragons do. Instead she turned to the small box, her head cocked in interest. "It's television," he explained.

She blinked large yellow eyes. "What is it for?"

He grinned. "It's got lots of uses. We use it to watch the rest of the world." He flipped to a news channel. "It's a great baby-sitter." He skipped through a few cartoons. "And my personal favorite: watching the Metz bomb another one." With a final click of the remote he switched to a baseball game and propped up his feet.

Sarmoti shook her scaly head; she had understood less than half of what the human had just said, but she was satisfied he was attempting acceptance, if not friendship. "Human magic is so confusing," she commented with her dry chuckle.

"Human magic?" Peter repeated, eyebrow raised.

She ducked her head, reminding herself yet again to start talking and thinking human. "I mean . . . ma-sheens," she amended. With an abrupt nod farewell she thrust herself into the air and sailed out of sight.

Peter shook his head, bemused. This job always cropped up the strangest . . . people. You'd think you'd have gotten use to it by now, he chided himself, then turned his attention back to the game.

* * *

"Where is that girl?" Peter demanded grumpily. "She's been in that shower for over an hour!"

"Come on, Peter," Ray defended her. "She hadn't had a shower for five years."

Peter grimaced. "That would explain why she hasn't had any dates recently."

They were all in front of the TV, having nothing better to do than wait for Sharen to emerge from the bathroom. Even Sarmoti's large globes were locked onto the glowing screen, and Janine had insisted she could answer the upstairs line just as easily as her desk phone. The water had stopped ten minutes ago, followed soon after by a loud blowing noise.

"We have a hairdryer?" Peter had asked in surprise.

"It's mine," Janine admitted, offering no other explanation.

The sound of the hairdryer stopped, and the bathroom door swung open.

"Well, that's an improvement," Peter declared when she walked into the rec room. She gave him a look and ran a hand through her glossy brown waves. Her skin was a clean and a healthy pink after the hot water.

Sharen sank into a chair. "Boy, did I miss modern conveniences," she said.

"How you feeling?" Ray asked gently. "Been a busy day for you."

"I'm fine," the girl answered immediately, too quickly. Suddenly she gasped. "Oh my God." She rose a trembling hand and pointed. "Is that . . . ?"

"It is tell-a-vi-shun," Sarmoti announced proudly. Privately, she added, I am beginning to like this place.

The Ghostbusters exchanged looks. None of them had missed the sudden change of topic. Peter, taking initiative, shook his head slightly. She wasn't ready.

"No way!" Sharen crowed. Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if she was in a sacred presence. "The only bad thing about leaving behind humanity . . . ."

Peter rolled his eyes. She might have lived apart from civilization, with a dragon no less, but she was still a teenage girl. He handed over the remote without complaint.

Sharen stared down at the device blankly for a second. Then realization dawned. It only took a few more for her to figure out which buttons did what, and she was soon happily flipping through the channels. Sarmoti crawled onto her shoulders, under the brown waves. Soon the two friends were so engrossed they didn't even look up as the Ghostbusters, followed by Janine, quietly left the room.

Ray was smiling. "They look so cute sitting there together," he chuckled. "Wish I had a camera."

"Cute?" Peter exclaimed. "She's not cute, she's a chick!"

"Peter," Egon chided, "she is not here to be swept off her feet."

"Yeah, Spengs, sure. When I ask her out to dinner I'll be sure both feet are firmly planted on the ground."

"Speaking of dinner," Winston broke in, "what should we get for the girl's first night in New York?"

"Anything that doesn't involve me cooking it," Peter said.

"Of course not, Peter," Egon perfectly dead-panned. "She was knocked unconscious just yesterday. We wouldn't want a repeat performance."

"Ha ha, very funny Spengler. I seem to remember you can't cook worth beans either."

"If you four are just going to trade one-liners all night I'm going to order pizza before I head home," Janine informed them. She brushed past them and headed for the stairs.

"Good idea, Janine," Peter called to her retreating back. He lowered his voice to address his colleagues. "I was afraid for a second there she was gonna offer to cook something."

"Now, Peter," Ray objected good-naturally, "you know Janine's a fine cook."

"Yeah, if you don't mind--" Suddenly a shriek interrupted him, coming from the rec room, followed by a sharp half-hiss half-roar. Without another word or hesitation the four men turned and rushed back the way they came. Ray entered the room first, stopping so short that Peter, Winston and Egon nearly collided into him.

A battle was in progress in the rec room. The chair Sharen had been sitting in was overturned, the girl herself pressed up against the wall, her eyes wide with wonder, not fear. They were locked on the two combatants in the center of the room.

One was obviously Sarmoti. She was in the air, a frightening look of fury on her long face. With powerful beats of her bat-like red wings she was chasing something . . . green.

"Slimer," all four of the Ghostbusters groaned at once. The ghost was wailing and zooming away from the crimson dragon as fast as his pudgy body could take him. When he heard their voices he changed direction and plowed right through them, leaving large smears of ectoplasm on the front of their jumpsuits.

Sarmoti had checked her direction automatically. She suddenly found herself sailing straight for the surprised occultist, who threw up his arms instinctively. She threw open her wings in an attempt to capture enough air to brake, but she had been going too fast. With a thud she collided with Ray, who in turn fell against Peter. The domino effect followed, and then they were all on the floor in the doorway, the wind knocked out of them.

"Are you okay?" he heard Sharen standing over them. He opened his eyes to find large yellow ones inches from his own.

"Sorry," came the reptilian voice. She was abruptly plucked into the air by Sharen, who looked her over critically for injuries, then placed her on her shoulders.

"You okay?" the girl repeated, extending a hand. Ray nodded and grabbed the offered assist, letting her pull him to his feet. The rest of the ecto-eliminators got up after him, Peter's mutters switching back and forth between exclamations of strangling the dragon and slapping Slimer in the containment unit.

The teenager had a look of pity on her face. "If you're the famous Ghostbusters and can't even keep a little green ghost out of your own building--"

"Hey," Peter interrupted indignantly, "we save the world two or three times a week!"

"We should've introduced you," Ray apologized. "That was Slimer. He's kinda our mascot. He's perfectly harmless."

"He's a . . . good ghost?" At the Ghostbusters' nods her expression changed to one of doubt.

"There are ghosts with innocent and good natures just as there are malevolent spirits," Egon explained.

"I see . . . and you guys just take care of the bad ones?"

"That's right," Ray smiled. He took her by the upper arms, since her shoulders were occupied, and led her out into the hall. "Why don't we go down to the kitchen. Janine's ordered pizza, and I'll tell you about the containment unit . . . ." At the mention of pizza the girl's eyes lit up and she allowed herself to be led downstairs.

"What do you think of that?" Peter asked, jerking his chin toward the receding figures.

Egon cocked an eyebrow. "I believe that child is extremely malnourished. Hopefully Ray won't let her eat herself sick."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I meant what do you think about Ray and Sharen?"

Winston smiled. "I think Ray just found a little sister."

* * *

After the pizzas came (and miraculously made it all the way to the kitchen without Slimer getting his slimy hands on it) Janine said good night and went home. Sarmoti sat in Sharen's lap, who sat in one of the chairs around the table, waiting eagerly for her slice to cool. The dragon sat back on her hind legs, her front claws resting on the table and eyeing the steaming slice curiously.

Peter leaned against the sink, his arms folded easily across his chest. "So, what do dragons eat, anyway?" he asked the girl, whose eye were also fixed on the pizza. "Not virgins, I hope. We don't have much of a market for them here in New York."

"Oh, nothing," Sharen said casually, not looking up from the slice.

Ray, watching her from across the table fondly, looked up in confusion. "Nothing?" he repeated.

"Nothing," she confirmed. Finally tearing herself away from her little spot of heaven, she looked up at the Ghostbusters. The dragon, apparently not caring that the conversation was about her, continued to observe the pizza. "Sarmoti gets her energy from some kind of rays from the sun. She doesn't eat anything."

"Fascinating," remarked Egon. "It might be the ultraviolet radiation that enables such an energy transference to occur, but a creature with such an ability would have to have--"

"Egon, Egon, time out!" Peter cut in before the physicist could get any further in his lecture. "No science talk at dinner, it ruins my appetite. You and Ray can go play mad scientist with the flying lizard some other time."

Sharen had just managed to pick up the pizza slice and take a cautious bite. At Peter's words her head snapped up, taking the slice with it.

Ray saw the wild look in her eyes. The red dragon, either hearing Sharen's thoughts or listening to the conversation after all, squeaked with fear and jumped under her long brown hair. "Don't worry," the occultist hastily said. "It's just one of Peter's expressions. We're not going to do anything."

The teenager put down her slice. She visibly forced herself to relax, slumping back in her chair slowly. "S-sorry," she stuttered. "I'm still getting use to all this." She waved a hand to encompass the Ghostbusters, the firehouse, and all of New York. "I guess I'm a little edgy."

"Sorry, kid," Peter apologized in return. "I should watch what I say."

"Fat chance Pete," Winston joked, trying to ease the sudden tension in the room.

"And don't call me kid," Sharen said, but she sounded more relaxed than irritated.

Ray silently breathed in relief. That was one more crisis averted. And with an adolescent, not to mention a dragon, in the firehouse he knew it wouldn't be the last.

In an abrupt change of subject, and surprising scientific conclusion, Peter spoke up. "Wait a minute, if dragons don't eat, and they speak mind-to-mind, why did they evolve with mouths?"

Sarmoti decided the psychologist deserved some pay back. Without explanation, the red dragon jumped onto the table. Before anyone could say a word she threw back her head, and a column of flame three feet high shot into the air! The Ghostbusters jumped back in surprise, shock written on their faces. Sharen sat, watching them impassively. Her companion's mischief had sparked in her own mind.

"You think that's impressive? Watch this." Words weren't needed between the two. Sarmoti knew just what the girl had in mind. Again she breathed fire into the air. And Sharen stuck her hand straight into the flames!

"Sharen!" all four men cried at once. They leaped for the table, at first not noticing the calm on the girl's face. The fire eruption only lasted a few seconds, and when Sarmoti stopped Sharen held up her hand, perfectly whole. She allowed them to study the burn-free appendage while the smug dragon climbed back onto her shoulders.

"Don't do that again!" Ray snapped in worry, but his scientific curiosity and Sharen's obvious well-being quickly replaced it with wonder.

"Me and my big mouth," Peter muttered.

Egon finished his examination of her hand. "How is that possible?"

"Dragon magic," she replied simply. "Dragon fire only hurts an enemy of dragons or of their allies."

Winston was scanning the air. "No smoke. Didn't even set off the smoke-alarm."

Sharen picked up her pizza and resumed eating as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It took the four men a few seconds longer to convince themselves things had returned to normal. In the moments of silence that followed Ray realized they were one member short. "Hey, where's Slimer?" he asked.

"Yeah," Winston added, "the pizzas got here nearly ten minutes ago. He should be here by now."

Sarmoti's familiar dry chuckle brought five pairs of eyes on her in question. The dragon nodded toward the corner of the ceiling farthest away from the table.

There was the spud, hovering uncertainly, his eyes wide and pleading and his face miserable. The spook was too scared to come anywhere near Sarmoti, but he couldn't make himself leave the kitchen and dinner.

Peter chuckled himself. "What's the matter, Spud? Not hungry."

The green ghost shook his head. "Ghost mean Peter," he wailed.

"She's not a ghost, Slimer, she's a dragon," Ray said. "And she won't hurt you anymore." He looked to Sarmoti for confirmation. She hesitated with a grin, then nodded.

Slimer shook his head again. "Dragon mean Ray," he insisted stubbornly.

Peter shrugged and grabbed another slice from the open box. "Suit yourself, Spud. We'll have to finish it ourselves."

If anything would have provoked Slimer enough to venture to the table, that was it. With amazing speed for such a tub of ectoplasmic lard, he zoomed up to the box, grabbed a slice (probably would have grabbed more if he was brave enough to hang around longer) and disappeared through the doorway.

"I have a feeling we're going to be eating more of our own dinners from now on," Peter smirked.

* * *

That night Sharen lay on a cot on the floor of the upstairs lab, Sarmoti curled up contentedly on one side, Bon Bon on the other. Ray had apologized for not having a real bed for her, but Sharen had replied that she liked sleeping close to the floor anyway. That it reminded her of sleeping in the woods. When he left for his own bed across the hall, hitting the lights on the way out, she had laid there for several long, uneasy minutes. Now she sat up in the darkness, causing Sarmoti to raise a sleepy head.

Something wrong? the dragon asked, knowing the answer.

No, it's just the noise. I don't see how New Yorkers sleep at night. The constant hum of motors, then a squeal of breaks and the honk of a horn, filled the heavy silence of the night.

The red dragon snorted in disbelief. Not only could she tell her friend was lying, it was a poor excuse, since the firehouse's walls filtered out most of the outside noise unless you were right next to a window. She commented on the fact.

The girl responded with a mental sigh. Do you have to read me so well?

It's not that hard. Now what's wrong?

I don't feel right about this. Why did they take us in? She didn't pause long enough for Sarmoti to answer, but the question was rhetorical anyway. I mean, how could be possibly be of use to the Ghostbusters? What could they want us for?

This annoyed the dragon. Couldn't Sharen at least see the obvious? True, life had been hard for the girl, but Sarmoti could see it and she wasn't even human. Because of this, her answer had a slight bite to it. You mean you can't even see that?

See what? was the startled reply.

The dragon cooled her flaming temper. These humans don't want anything from us. They gave you a home because they care about you . . . and they understand your pain.

Pain? She snapped up straight. What do they know of my pain?

Sarmoti gently shared the memory of her dream in the Ecto-1 with the girl. After she was done her friend's mind was blank for a long moment. Then a tiny voice whispered along their link: How can they understand my pain?

Ray Stanz has a similar pain. I feel it when he looks at you. And the others have helped him with it. They can help you as well, if you let them.

A sharp intake of breath broke the silence of the conversation. Ray? I should've guessed. She purposely didn't answer the dragon's last statement. Instead she sighed once more, out loud.

Now what it is? Sarmoti fondly exasperated.

Now I feel bad for suspecting them. I have to do something.

Now?

Now. This days been too eventful. If I try to sleep now I'll just wake up screaming anyway. She threw off her covers and stood, placing the teddy bear tenderly on the pillow. Then she silently got dressed, not too easily in the darkness. She didn't turn on the lights, for fear of waking the guys. Padding to the door just as soundlessly, she waited for Sarmoti to rise on hushed wings, then stalked out into the hall.

They traveled in silence for a while, Sharen's eyes adjusting to the night and Sarmoti seeing better than a cat with her glowing yellow eyes. Not really heading anywhere, the girl found herself on the ground floor reception area.

So, what are you going to do? came the mind voice from her shoulder.

I don't know, but I've got to do something. They've been so nice and--her questing fingers found a light switch. She cautiously turned it on, but the meager light couldn't have reached upstairs. She looked around the first floor in the new light and saw . . . it was a mess. In the excitement of bringing a wild teenager home the Ghostbusters had forgotten to clean up. Or else they always lived like this, Sharen thought. The Ecto-1 had been unloaded, but the equipment lay on the floor by the red and white hearse. The lockers that held the Ghostbusters' uniforms were hanging open, revealing the clutter inside. The secretary's desk had papers scattered all over it.

That's it! she suddenly exclaimed.

What's it? Sarmoti asked, peering down a darkened stairway that led to the basement. Before Sharen could answer she pulled back, shuddering. Don't go down there, she advised. Feels bad.

I can clean up this place, she answered the dragon's question.

What? Why?

It'll make me feel better. I don't like all this attention and giving for nothing. If I clean up it makes me feel like I'm giving something back.

The red dragon landed lightly on the hood of Ecto-1. Good. When do we start?

* * *

Hours later Sharen was tired, sore, and wanted to scream for being silent so long. She also felt better than she ever had since her arrival in New York. After the ground floor the pair had moved upstairs, room by room, until Sharen was sure the firehouse had more room on the inside than could possibly be held by the outside walls. The only rooms they hadn't touched were the guys' bedroom, the basement, and the lab (mostly because Sharen was afraid if she touched anything in there the resulting explosion would leave nothing left of Ghostbuster Central but a smoking crater). The rest of them had been straightened up, things put away, scrubbed and polished as best she could without making a sound. They had even ventured to the attic!

The girl allowed herself a gusty sigh of relief, the loudest thing to come out of her mouth all night, and collapsed onto the couch in the rec room. The clock read 1:27 AM. The exhaustion she had been fighting all night caught up to her and hit her like a physical blow. Sharen struggled to keep her eyelids open.

Now will you sleep? Sarmoti, perched on the arm of the couch, hounded.

No, came the stubborn reply.

Why not?

Don't want to. The dragon eyed the girl sternly. Okay, okay, I'm uneasy all right? This adjusting isn't easy for me.

That's what other humans are here for. You can talk to them.

I don't think so. Her tone was obviously not one of uncertainty. Sarmoti shook her scaly head. She obviously wasn't going to get any farther tonight. Sharen was too exhausted to think clearly. I should have made sure she had gotten more a thorough rest these past two nights, she chided herself. As the red dragon watched, the girl stretched out on the couch, her eyelids fluttering.

Sarmoti smiled gently. She felt the persistent refusal to fall asleep in the teenager's mind. And she knew how to defeat it. I'll be right back, she promised. She quietly winged out of the room without hearing her companion's reply.

When she returned she had a familiar object in her taloned hands. "Thanks, Sarmoti," the girl mumbled as she took Bon Bon from her friend. In moments she was sound asleep. Sarmoti was glad; the girl needed a good rest. She curled up on the arm of the piece of furniture to stand guard as she often did on strange, moonless nights in the black forest.

* * *

When Ray woke up the next morning Peter was still asleep (big surprise). Winston and Egon's beds were empty. He could hear the water running in the bathroom, so one of them was in the shower, unless it was Sharen.

With that thought the occultist got up and dressed quietly. A brief peek into the lab across the hall showed the girl wasn't still asleep, and he thought it must be her in the shower, until he noticed her teddy bear was missing.

Making his way down to the kitchen, Ray found Egon with a cup of coffee and the daily newspaper. It was Winston in the shower then. The blond physicist gave him a blue gaze over the top of the newspaper. "Morning," Ray greeted him cheerfully. "Have you seen Sharen?"

Egon murmured a negative and returned his attention to the paper. Knowing he wouldn't even notice a demon in the kitchen until he'd finished, Ray poured himself a cup of the hot dark liquid and left to search the building, a thread of worry beginning in his mind. She wouldn't have gone out into New York alone, would she?

His rising fears were gratefully put to rest when he entered the rec room. She was on the couch, the stuffed animal clutched to her chest and snoring softly. Sarmoti, awake, rose her head and stared at him mutely, her alien face unreadable.

Ray just stood and watched the sleeping child for a moment, until Peter stumbled into the room, bleary eyed and still in his pajamas. "What are you doing up, Peter?" he asked quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping girl, as he set down the coffee mug. "It's not even ten yet."

"We got a call," he muttered sleepily. "Mrs. Vanders. I asked her to check out the kid's background and get back to me." The psychologist rubbed his eyes and blinked to clear his blurry vision.

"And?" Ray asked, wondering if he had been too worried about the girl's whereabouts to hear the phone.

"She says she checked the police records. Five years ago there was a bad car accident. Real bad. Fell off a cliff. Police say the car was too far gone to tell color, license plates, or bodies. The Draffin family was assumed to be the victims when they weren't seen around town. No survivors found."

Ray's face fell and his stomach sank. "That's terrible," he whispered. "Was that all?"

Peter shook his head, clearly disturbed by the news too. "Says the Draffins were loners. Kept to themselves. Only thing anyone knew about them was the husband and wife had one daughter and no remembered any other relatives." Both men turned to look at the girl and dragon with questioning looks. The conscience one shook her head.

"It is not my tale to tell," she said softly.

Suddenly the topic of the conversation stirred on the couch. Her eyes opened to slits and she looked up into the concerned face of Ray Stanz, which was a familiar position. And for an instant, just an instant, her face was lit with the most beautiful, easy smile. Then her eyes snapped fully open and she shot up straight in shock. She was only able to hold the gaze of the youngest Ghostbuster for a moment before her brown eyes filled with tears. Unable to let them see her break down, she drew legs up and rested her forehead against her knees, her long hair falling around her and providing a brown curtain to hide her face. Her body convulsed with silent sobs.

Ray shared a confused look with Peter. Either the girl was only pretending to sleep, or their words had somehow wormed their way into her dreams. If it was there conversation at all that had provoked such a response from her. He sat down next to her on the couch and lightly touched her arm. She shuddered at his touch but didn't pull away. "What is it?" he asked her, as gently as he could, and Peter sat down next to him.

For a long time Sharen didn't answer. Each time she drew a shaky breath Ray thought she was going to speak, but she only released it with another sob. The room was deathly quiet. Sarmoti had backed away from the teenager slightly, her dragon features contorted as if in pain, but she refused to leave her friend entirely. She had only felt this grief once before, and knew Sharen was about to relive the night they met, alone and afraid in the dark forest.

Finally Sharen raised her head, just enough to say one short sentence, her voice hoarse and hollow, her face still hidden by her curtain of hair. "You look like my father."

Sarmoti flinched as if burned. The words hit Ray like a sock in the gut. "Oh, Sharen," he sighed. "What happened?"

Those were the last words she wanted to hear. She wanted to push the memories away, bury them until she forgot the pain was ever there. She had succeeded for five years, so well her dragon friend hardly knew the details of that night that lay buried in her mind. But when she had woke up, her eyes still blurry with sleep . . . another sob tore through her. She had thought for one instant Ray had been . . . .

"It was dark," she heard herself saying. No, no! her mind cried. Not back to that night. But the memories were becoming clearer now. She felt as if she was there, living the tragedy again. She picked her head up the rest of the way, tucking her loose hair behind her ears with a trembling hand.

The two Ghostbusters waited in silence. Ray's heart squeezed tight when he saw the girl's red and puffy eyes, so haunted by memories they didn't even see the men before her.

"It was dark," she repeated shakily, "raining. They were sitting up front. I was out back, unbuckled, with Bon Bon. Momma and Daddy gave him to me for my birthday. Daddy was concentrating on the road. We'd been driving all day, now we were headin' home.

"Then the car skidded. Momma--Momma screamed. She reached out back and opened the door. The she pushed me out. I was screaming too, I think. I hit the grass on the side of the road, hard. When I looked up the car was gone. It . . . ." She stopped a moment. "It fell over a cliff.

"It was dark and cold. There were no cars on the road. It was a back road, Daddy had said. I went to the cliff and looked over, but it was dark. I couldn't see. Then . . . ." She stopped again. She didn't want to go on, but the memories wouldn't stop. When she spoke again it was in a harsh whisper. "The car blew up."

Arms that she didn't know had circled around her tightened. She couldn't look up. "I screamed to them, but they didn't come up. I begged . . . No one came. No cars. Ours was still on fire; I couldn't see inside. It was upside down.

"I knew no one was going to come. I turned away and tripped over Bon Bon. He fell out of the car with me. Now he was--is--the only thing I had left of my parents. I picked him up and ran. Ran for a long time, into the woods that surrounded the road. Then I tripped and fell. I didn't get back up. Didn't see any reason to. It was cold, dark and wet, and I was alone. I didn't have anywhere to go anyway. I had seen Momma and Daddy blow up. Then Sarmoti found me."

At the mention of her name the dragon jumped into Sharen's lap, forcing Ray to loosen his hold on the girl enough to let her in. Her concern and shared sorrow floating back and forth between their minds slowly covered the awful memories. Sharen looked up and blinked in confusion. It wasn't night and it wasn't raining. She was inside and the sun was just coming up over the New York buildings. The relief she let travel from her mind to the dragon's was too powerful for words. She had been lost in those memories, swamped. Sarmoti's broadcasting feelings had returned her to reality.

No one said anything. What was there to say? She looked up into Ray's pain-filled eyes. "I lost my parents too," he said quietly.

Sharen quickly tried to pull herself together, fighting for control over herself and her tears. She took a steadying breath and pushed herself away from the occultist's loosely clasped arms. She schooled her face into a careful blank mask and stood up, stooping for a moment to pick up her teddy bear from when he had dropped from her arms, though she didn't remember the exact instance he had tumbled from her grasp.

Suddenly she realized they weren't alone. Peter Venkman had barely registered in her mind, and the memories had faded out everything except for Ray, and then Sarmoti, who had pulled her free of them. Now he was looking at her with an unusual sober look in his green eyes. And he wasn't the only one. Egon and Winston were standing in the doorway, and from their faces she could tell they had heard it all. An unexpected anger flared in her, her own protection from life's harshness. These four men now knew everything about her. She had let her guard down, had let herself trust someone, and five years of hard work banishing memories had proved useless.

"So now you know," she snapped, her anger spinning out of control. Only her new memories of trust and their concern for her kept her anger from exploding outward in a fierce display of defensiveness and teenage mood swings.

Sharen, your anger is out of place in your new life. Sharen felt as if she'd been slapped in the face. The dragon's words weren't loud, just intense. They cut through her anger like a hot knife through butter, melting it away.

The Ghostbusters had watched the poor girl stand, her face indifferent, until anger began to simmer behind her eyes. When she unexpectedly snapped Ray flinched. He had thought the talk would be good for the girl, but she seemed worse off for it. A glance at Peter told him the psychologist wasn't surprised at Sharen's outburst.

The seventeen-year-old swayed on her feet, emotionally spent. The anger in her eyes faded. "I need a shower," she mumbled, and fled from the room before anyone could say a word. Sarmoti looked at each of the four men in turn, then launched herself after her companion.

* * *

"And then she what?" Janine asked later in disbelief.

"She just left," Ray repeated. "Just walked right out of the room. Sarmoti waited a second, then followed her. They've been in the bathroom ever since." Janine had come to work and seen the first floor thoroughly cleaned. With a secretary's certainty, she knew the guys hadn't done it. So she had tracked them down to the kitchen and demanded the entire story.

"Yeah, and if there's no hot water when she gets out I'm gonna strangle her," Peter grumbled over his morning coffee. Being forced to think and feel before the caffeine had jump-started his system had put him in a grumpy mood.

"The girl just went through a major episode, Pete. Give her a break." Winston sat down next to the brown-haired psychologist at the kitchen table. Slimer, now that Sarmoti was safely away in the bathroom, was raiding the refrigerator.

Before Peter could retort the girl herself walked into the kitchen. She was dressed back in her jeans and sweatshirt, now washed but still frayed. Her brown hair was dark with dampness. But it was her face that drew their attention. She had a look of pure peace on her features, more at ease than they had ever seen her. You would never have guessed less than half an hour ago she was reliving a terrible tragedy, tear-faced and hysterical with grief. She had a content, almost smile on her face. So she hasn't let herself admit she was trusting humans yet, Peter told himself. Well, one thing at a time.

Sharen paused in the doorway for a moment, then came in and sank into a chair. "So," she asked innocently, "what's for breakfast?"

When Ray set a plateful of pancakes before her her face lit up. Living in the wild for five years had taught her food was a luxury, something best devoured before someone else chose they wanted it, so she dove in happily.

"She eats like Slimer," Peter commented dryly. She paused long enough to swallow and glare at him, but she wasn't really angry.

"Yeah? And when was the last time you fought a raccoon for your supper?" she shot back.

"How did you find food to eat in the woods?" Ray asked, sitting down.

She shrugged. "The Vanders Motel was a big help. And Sarmoti knows a lot about edible roots and stuff, though I don't know why, since her kind doesn't eat. And sometimes when the winter was really bad I would sneak down to the YMCA in town, but only as a last resort."

"Where is the flying lizard anyway?" Peter wondered.

Sharen's eyes swiveled ceilingward. "On the roof," she replied. "Sunbathing."

Janine, silently watching the girl interacting, eyed her torn and tattered clothes. "You know," the redhead said to her, "if you're gonna be living in New York, you'll have to get something decent to wear. I can take you over to Macey's this afternoon."

A flicker of nervousness passed over the teenager's bright features. "Out there? In the city?"

"No, we were planning on bringing the department store in here," Peter joked. "You can't spend your entire life in the firehouse kid."

His words did little reassure her, but a sudden explosion of dragon chatter in her head slowly dimmed her fears. She listened to the red's constant patter of praise and fascination of the city below her for several minutes before a pause let her inject, That good, huh?

Oh yes! All the humans! I didn't think there were that many on this entire planet! And I can't even see the roads, they're so filled with human carriages! Even if it is a human settlement, and I can sense all the damage they are doing to this world. This planet is slowly dying, Sharen. The dragon's tone was sober for a moment, then joyful again. But look over there! It didn't seem to matter to her that her friend couldn't see and didn't even know where 'over there' was. I can see trees, lots of them, in a big space with tiny gray roads and lots of humans running along. Ask the humans what that place is.

Sharen couldn't help but giggle at the dragon's obvious enjoyment of the city below her, which was a strange sight because she did it without smiling. "Okay," she agreed to Janine's suggestion with a surprising change of heart, "I guess I'll have to see this place for myself anyway." Before they could ask what was so funny she voiced Sarmoti's question. "Sarmoti wants to know what's the big place with all the trees and people. She can see it from the roof."

"Central Park," Peter supplied. She relayed the name. The dragon repeated it over and over, rolling it around in her mind. I will have to go there someday, she commented.

Just don't let anyone see you.

Of course, this will be no different than our old home.

Yeah, except for the thousands of people who might just look up as your winging around the trees, oblivious to all.

I do not--

The ringing of the kitchen extension made her lose the rest of the message. Janine automatically picked it up, pad of paper and pencil in hand. The Ghostbusters sprang into action. Winston and Egon collected the dishes from the table and deposited them into the sink. Peter went to Janine to collect the caller's address. Ray grabbed the car keys from the counter. Sharen stared at the sudden whirl of commotion around her. "Where are you going?" she asked, confused.

"To save the world!" Peter attempted gallantry.

Winston replied, somewhat more realistically, "Someone reported a problem on Central Ave. What'd you think, we rescue teenagers from the woods everyday?"

"Don't worry," Ray added. "It didn't sound too serious. We'll probably be back in a couple of hours."

Sharen suddenly realized this was what they did all their lives: waiting and going out to protect the world as only Ghostbusters could. In all her adjusting she never stopped to think they would have a life and a job to do. With that sudden insight something broke inside her, a decision was made. "Well then," she said, "hurry back." Then she gave them a slow, deliberate smile.

Several Months Later . . . .

Sharen leisurely inhaled the cooling afternoon air with content. The recent heatwave was over; autumn was here. She was on the roof of Ghostbuster Central, a common enough place for her to be. If anyone ever looked for her, this was the first place they checked. The teenage girl often came to the flat area to think, or just to be alone. This time though, she had a purpose: she was waiting.

But while she was waiting, she thought. First her mind wandered about aimlessly, touching on this and that, until she caught a steady train of thought. Things sure had changed. It wasn't the first time she'd been on the subject, and she suspected it wouldn't be the last. Going from the Maine wilderness to the jungle of New York was a big step for anyone; but she had made it, with help from an old friend and a new family. There were so many things she never had to worry about anymore, and so many new things she did. But it was definitely worth it, New York finally felt like home. Correction, she reminded herself, the firehouse finally felt like home. New York, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

Leaning her elbows on the chest-high wall the surrounded the edge of the building, she looked down and watched the busy city below. The sidewalks were crowded with people, as were the streets filled with cars, trucks and taxis. Each person hurried on in his or her own little life, totally ignoring the throngs of other people around them. Sharen shook her head, she could never do that. The city below made her nervous. She never even left the firehouse without one of the guys or Janine. Five years of solitude was just too long to shake in a couple of months, she just didn't like people.

Her next thought was that she might not be here much longer, it couldn't be that long before someone that was related to her was found. The thought saddened her, she really did like watching the city, if not traveling about it. Over the weeks Mrs. Vanders had called numerous times and Sharen herself had had long talks with everyone, clearing things up. Her family had been loners, always keeping to themselves. Her mother hadn't wanted to leave the school she taught at when they moved, so she traveled back to their old town each morning to work. Her father had quit accounting long ago; he was an amateur artist after that. She honestly couldn't remember having any relatives. Both her parents were only children, and all her grandparents were deceased. Even if no one was found who ever related to her, how long could the Ghostbusters go before shipping her off to a foster home?

Now Sharen, she chided herself. That was very unfair of you. You know very well they would never do that. She truly didn't know a more kind family, and would be very happy spending the rest of her life here with them. But that may not be up to me, she reminded herself sadly.

But other than that, she was perfectly content. She had friends, family, and didn't have to battle Mother Nature for her necessities anymore. Below her a car screeched to an abrupt halt, narrowly avoiding a collision with a bus crossing the intersection. Her thoughts switched to her new family. She tried not to be difficult for them, but she knew it wasn't easy for them to live with a teenage girl, not to mention a dragon. They fortunately didn't seem to mind the challenge, and she and Sarmoti had quickly become a part of the family. Of course, it got extremely annoying when they were overprotective, which was all to often for Sharen's taste.

She shook her head with a small frown of irritation. That was one of the reasons she was up here. It was an old argument. One that always ended with them winning, mainly because they were older and out-numbered her.

Incoming, a cheerful mindsong announced. Sharen picked up her head to scan the sky above; Sarmoti had to fly high to keep out of sight of humans. She saw a dark speck with tiny wings high above her. Anyone who looked up probably wouldn't even notice her, and whoever did would only think she was a seagull. The speck grew larger in a rush as she dived out of the sky, quickly before anyone below noticed. With a neat back-swoop she settled on the wall beside her friend.

Well? Did you follow them? Sharen asked excitedly.

I did.

No way! You followed them on a bust! They didn't see you, I hope. This was the girl's peeve. They wouldn't let her go with them when they went to eliminate ghosts. She wasn't experienced enough, they said. It was too dangerous, they couldn't take the chance of her getting hurt, and she didn't have the training. Never mind the fact that they hadn't either, when they started out! It wasn't fair. She would rather be helping them. It had taken a bit of coercion, but Sarmoti had agreed to spy on them on a bust.

They most certainly did not. There is no one that could spy such as I have for five years and not find a place to hide in a human settlement such as this. With a grand flourish of the mind she shared the memory of hiding first on the roof of the apartment the guys had left for, then on a window sill, and watching the entire job. Her tone grew serious. They are great sorcerers. I had no idea they were so powerful.

Neither did I, Sharen murmured, awed, as she watched them through the dragon's eyes. She was amazed at the change in the team. These were the guys who had fought over the last doughnut this morning? She had never seen them like this. She watched as they cornered the spirit and smiled with satisfaction as the purple gooper was sucked into the blinking trap and the memory faded.

A familiar noise below brought both sets of teenage eyes downward. The large white vehicle pulled up to Ghostbuster Central as the ecto-eliminators returned from another job well done.

Well, I'm going to down, the human girl commented. She liked to beg details out of them after they had returned from a job, and even though she knew this time, she still liked to listen to them.

And it was always a little sweet revenge when they came home covered in slime. That was the one way she got back at them; she didn't mind being covered in the goop. The guys couldn't figure it out. No one should like being slimed, according to them. The stuff was cold, sticky and usually smelled, but Sharen just giggled when Slimer was being a little too affectionate. That was the reason the small spook flew to her for protection when the guys were annoyed with one or another of the messes he got into, when she was alone anyway. Slimer still gave Sarmoti as much space as possible, usually staying out of the room she was in, in a combination of fear and respect. Sharen had grown quite fond of the little spud. You coming? she asked her flying friend.

No, I'm staying up here until sundown. The days are shortening, and I don't like the chill that will soon be in the air.

I know. She smiled, remembering past winters, and turned away from the overview of the city, back to the door that would lead down to her world.

* * *

". . . . and I'm so sick of those Class 2s, it's not even funny anymore!" was the voice that reached the girl's ears even before she made it all the way down the stairs.

That would be the most gracious Doctor Venkman, the girl grinned to herself. The complaint was followed by doors slamming, and the scene below her revealed four purple-tinted men climbing out of Ecto-1. They were drenched in considerably less slime than Sarmoti had seen from the window; Peter was still wringing out his hair as he griped.

"Hey, Sharen," Ray called up as he retrieved the slightly smoking trap from the hearse's back.

"Have you solved the problems I assigned to you this morning?" Egon promptly demanded when he saw her.

"Eeeeeeegon," she wined good-naturally. "It's Saturday. You can't expect me to do algebra on the weekend." She already regretted agreeing to Egon's suggestion of instructing her in her academics. His weekend homework was just an example of his strict teaching methods. But it was either that, or be the only seventeen-year-old in fourth grade. And she certainly didn't want that.

The physicist frowned, as if the situation had not occurred to him. "How do you expect to rise to the level of academic knowledge of other children your age if you acquire that knowledge at the same rate they do?"

"Egon, if she hasn't been to school since fourth grade and's already doing algebra in the few months she's been here, I don't think you need to worry about how fast she catches up to other kids," Winston observed.

"Yeah, Spengs, and all work and no play makes for bad teaching," Peter added.

Seeing he was out-numbered, the blond rolled his eyes. "Fine," he relented, "but I hardly think you are in any position to offer teaching methods, Peter."

The psychologist made a face. "Catch kid," he said, flinging a glop of the purple goop in Sharen's direction.

"Hey!" Janine objected as the badly aimed wad missed the girl and hit her desk. "Take it outside, you two."

"No thanks," the teenager quickly injected. As she sauntered by she scooped a small portion of the slime off Peter's sleeve and dotted it onto her nose just to mock him. "And don't call me kid." She followed Ray down into the basement to deal with the 'live' trap. Sarmoti didn't approve of her going down there, from all the malevolent feelings she could pick up, but the guys insisted it was perfectly harmless.

In the basement Ray set the trap into its proper slot in the giant red machine that held the captured ghosts. Sharen never got tired of watching the lights flash and the containment unit flush the gooper inside. "So, was it a tough job?" she conversationally asked.

"Naw," answered the occultist. "He was messy, but not bright enough to get away."

"So, it probably wasn't very dangerous, huh?"

"Shaaaaaaren," Ray, who had no question as to where this was leading, managed to sound remarkably like the girl had only moments before. "How many times do we have to have this conversation? You can't come on busts."

"But it's not fair," objected the girl.

He rose his voice to be heard over the cycling of the containment unit. "But what if something happened? I don't want you to get hurt, Sharen."

She sighed. How could she respond to that? He pulled that line every time she started the argument, and she still hadn't find a way to counter it. Which was why the arguments usually ended there, as did this one. "Yeah, well . . . fine." The occultist left it at that, and the girl followed him as he headed for the stairs.

Sarmoti was winging in from an open window as they made it back up to the first floor. I thought you were staying up until sundown, Sharen said as the red dragon perched on the edge of Janine's desk.

The North wind changed direction. Cold.

Peter had put away his equipment and was headed toward the stairs to dislodge the rest of the purple slime from his person. "Hey, Sarmoti," he called automatically in greeting as he walked by.

The red dragon bowed her head in acknowledgment. "Greetings, great sorcerer."

That stopped the psychologist in mid stride. "Did I miss something, or did I suddenly acquire a new title?" he asked.

"Not sorcerers, scientists," Egon corrected.

Sarmoti took the information in confused silence, for most of the assembled anyway. What is a sy-n-tist? she privately inquired.

The modern word for sorcerer, Sharen explained. To the Ghostbusters, she said, "For Sarmoti, technology is human magic, so you guys are sorcerers."

"Well, I'm not gonna complain. 'Great sorcerer' has a certain ring to it," quipped Peter as he continued toward the stairs.

* * *

After the four men had cleaned the gunk off them Ray went to search for Sharen. He found the girl (where else?) on the roof. She had a portable radio leaning against the low wall, belting out a snappy country tune. She sat, leaning against the low wall, intently gazing at her small red companion as a crowd watches a Broadway show or famous actor. The auburn-haired occultist sat down beside the teenager, who didn't take her eyes off her flying friend.

Sarmoti was performing an intricate set of movements in the air. She swooped, climbed, arched, and twirled in time with the fast-paced music. The movements were captivating, almost hypnotizing, and Ray found himself unable to look away as the bright red jewel sparkled in the sunlight. "What is she doing?" he whispered to Sharen.

She didn't look at him as she answered, "The dragons call it skydancing. It's an art form in their culture." The song ended and a slow country love song began. Without missing a beat the dragon checked her pace. Her wing-beats slowed in time with the music and her body movements grew more moderate and fluid.

"She's good," Ray murmured.

"The best I've seen," the teenager said with a grin. When this song ended Sarmoti fluttered to the ground, touching down gracefully on the last note. Her head jerked up in surprise when applause sounded from her small, captive audience. With a roll of her yellow eyes she trotted over to them as Sharen switched off the radio.

"I am not as good as my mother," she admitted.

Ray glanced at Sharen at that. Her smile didn't fade at the mention of a parent, and only a slight pain that flashed in her brown eyes showed the words had any affect at all. It had taken a lot of trust, time and talks, but the girl had finally come to terms with her parents' deaths.

"Knock it off, modest," the girl snorted herself. "You're the best skydancer on earth."

"I am the only skydancer on earth," she pointed out as she climbed onto the teenager's shoulders. "The only dragon for that matter."

She grinned as she climbed to her feet, then looked at Ray as if noticing him for the first time. "Did you need something, Ray?"

"Oh--yeah," he remembered. "I need you to come downstairs." This was said with an air of mystery, a half-secret.

Sharen blinked in mild wonder, but didn't ask him to spoil it. Instead she just followed the occultist to the door that led back inside without comment, Sarmoti gazing after him from her perch with interest.

When they reached the first floor Ray stepped aside and waited expectantly. For a second the girl couldn't see what he was waiting for her to see, but then she noticed a minute change to the Ecto-1: there was a large sign attached to the rear window. It read, in large, bold lettering, STUDENT DRIVER. She looked at Ray in confusion.

"I thought it was about time you learned to drive," he grinned. He was pleased when her face lit up with excitement. Like all teenagers, the notion of being behind a wheel exhilarated her. Without another word she dived for the driver's side of the hearse, not even noticing when Sarmoti had to dig her talons into her shoulders to hang on.

I don't understand, commented the dragon as Sharen happily gripped the wheel, and Ray slid into the front passenger seat. You are many things Sharen, but you are not a sorcerer. Why are you learning this human magic?

Well, it's kinda like . . . the girl groped for an explanation. Kinda like very simple human magic. Every human learns to use one of these. That's why there's so many of them on the streets.

Ah, like the al-ger-bra spells you are learning? All humans learn these?

Exactly.

Peter watched the three enter the vehicle from his office behind Janine's desk with a smile on his face. Things had certainly been . . . different since those two had showed up in their lives, but he wouldn't have it any other way. They had fit in their operation so well he was surprised he hadn't noticed something missing before. And any problems that came with living with a teenager, and he would be the first to admit there weren't just a few of them, were well worth it.

With a squeal of tires Ecto-1 roared out of Ghostbuster Central. The psychologist's smile became a smirk. Winston was not going to be happy.

* * *

"Good night, guys," Sharen called into the rec room as she headed for her bedroom, Sarmoti perched in her usual spot, that night. Her room was one of her greatest feats of persuasion. As she headed up through the floors she remembered what it had taken to get her overprotective guardians to let her sleep on the roof.

After a few nights in the upstairs lab Egon had insisted moving the teenager into her own room, but that had been the problem. The firehouse that was the Ghostbusters home and business had long since been filled with all manners of things, and there wasn't much room left in the crowded building. Certainly not enough to house a teenager and a dragon. That had been the main thing that had persuaded them.

As she came up to the flat, walled-in area and under the bright pinpricks of the stars she remembered that particular conversation quite well, mainly because it was one of the few she had actually won.

"On the roof!?" Ray had exploded when she voiced the idea. "You can't have your bedroom on the roof!"

"And do you have a better idea?" she had retorted.

"Not yet, but you can't live on the roof. It's out of the question."

"And why not?"

"Because . . . ." the occultist faltered for a moment, and Winston had jumped in.

"It's a fire-hazard, girl. What if the first floor went up one night?"

"If the first floor caught fire, you four would be just a stuck as I would be," Sharen had pointed out coolly.

"And how are you supposed to have a room on the roof anyway?" Peter had wanted to know.

"You guys are the big, strong men. Build something."

"You wouldn't be able to actually sleep anyway," Ray had said. "All the city's noise and lights would keep you up."

Sarmoti, who had been mutely observing up until that point, spoke up, "I can solve that problem. It would be a simple spell to block noise and light from a small room, easy enough to continue while I am asleep."

"Yes, but that sort of thing just isn't done," Ray had objected in a last-ditch effort.

She had snorted. "If I was one who always went with the crowd I wouldn't have a dragon as a best friend. And besides, this way I have a place to go when customers come around. The world doesn't know about me, ya know. If people keep seeing me in here they're bound to get suspicious eventually."

The Ghostbusters had run out of excuses. Egon, who was just about desperate to get his lab back to its original order, was the first to grudgingly fall over to the girl's side. "Perhaps she does have a point," he said slowly.

"Egon, you can't be serious," Winston had protested.

Peter had smirked, "Oh, the brainiac just wants his lab back."

Sharen had smiled, sensing victory on all sides. "I'll be on the roof," she piped up, "making plans." And no one had stopped her as she walked away.

She smiled now as she surveyed her room from the outside, which was more of a tent really, but as large as a regular bedroom with walls thicker than canvas, sturdy enough to lean against without collapsing. It nestled in the far corner of the roof area, away from the front of the building that overlooked the street. She still didn't know exactly how Ray had attached it to the roof, but the thing didn't even sway in the hard winds that sometimes sprung up.

Inside it looked like a tent as well, but Sharen had tried to make it as much of a bedroom as possible. She still used the extra cot the Ghostbusters had had kicking around, refusing a bed, even though one could have fit easily with room to spare. There was a small nightstand next to the cot, with a lamp sitting on it. The teenager flipped on the only electric piece of the room, admiring the posters tacked, though not easily, to her walls. They were all of dragons, of course, and not one showed a mythical creature in a violent or evil position. The other things in the room were a clothes bureau and her bookcase.

She smiled as she gazed at the assorted collection of worn paperbacks and sturdy hardcovers that filled the two-shelved bookcase. They were her pride and joy, her books. She loved the stories kept behind the bright covers, almost all of them science-fiction and fantasy, a few realistic or reference. Also an assortment of ghost stories, fiction and non.

Her dragon friend, following her train of thought, commented, I am amazed the human culture has remembered our kind so often, though often wrongly. Some even speak a bit of the truth.

Of course, my friend. These days modern fantasy has really opened up to the possibilities of good dragons. It's usually only the classics like JRR Tolkin that follow the old rumors.

Ha. The stories you read, you mean. You take care to only to read the tales that open up to the truth. Ray has brought to me many tales written in the modern that still follow the old ways of humans.

Is that what you do all day when you're talking with him? Sharen asked as she crawled under the covers, curling an arm around Bon Bon. She flicked off the light, and a moment later the city noises and neon lights were cut off as if they had been flicked off. There had been many times when she had had to leave her companion to travel around New York City, though never alone, and when she returned Ray and the dragon had been deep in conversation. Sometimes Egon joined in too, more often then not with one scanning device or another that Sarmoti grudgingly allowed.

He is very understanding for a human. I would almost believe him to be a dragon, had I not met him face to face. And curious. He has more questions about my people than you did when we first met. Sharen had to laugh at that. She had interrogated her friend for weeks, having little else to do in the woods. And I trust him well enough to give him truthful answers, she added sleepily, already drifting off into dragon dreams.

Sharen smiled in the dark.

* * *

The next morning, Sunday, Sharen sat at Janine's desk, waiting for calls and playing on her computer. The girl had come to taking over the secretary's duties whenever she was out. When the phone rang she paused in her second game of solitaire to pick it up. "Ghostbusters," she announced pleasantly into the receiver. "How can I help you?" Sarmoti, who had been curled up on the desk, intently watching the computer screen, turned to look at her friend as she wrote down the address. Her pleasant tone suddenly grew serious, then attempting soothing calmness. "Uh huh . . . calm down, sir . . . I can't understand . . . sir, they'll be there as soon as possible. Okay, thank you, good bye."

She hung up the phone and hit the alarm at the same time. The red dragon jumped as the familiar clanging noise filled the firehouse. Sorry, she apologized with a slight grin. Even when she was prepared for it, the sudden explosion of the alarm always startled the dragon.

The four Ghostbusters, called by the noise, soon appeared on the first floor. "It was a dock supervisor," she informed them, handing Ray the address. "The guy was hysterical. Only said it was really, really big, and wanted you down right away."

"That's the address for the docks down in the harbor," Peter said, looking over the occultist's shoulder as he headed for Ecto-1. They quickly loaded up, climbed in, and sped out the double doors.

"Be careful, guys," Sharen whispered quietly as the hearse pulled away. She hadn't liked the note of panic in the man's voice, not at all.

* * *

The short, thin and balding man ran up to Ecto-1 even before Ray brought her to a stop. He was as pale as--well, a ghost. "I-i-in th-there," the supervisor stammered, pointing to a large abandoned warehouse by the wooden docks where ships loaded and unloaded their goods. Ray stopped Ecto before the wooden dock area began and they quickly got out and shouldered into their equipment.

"Don't worry, sir," Winston assured the man. "We'll take care of it. Just find someplace safe for awhile, it could be dangerous."

If possible, the man went even more white. He quickly decided 'someplace safe' was the other side of town, and left for it as fast as his legs could take him.

"What've we got, Egon?" Peter called to the physicist, already heading for the warehouse with PKE meter extended. The blond's posture abruptly went rigid. He backed up to join the others in a hurry, never taking his eyes off the meter in his hands.

"What is it, Egon?" Ray pulled out his own PKE meter and switched it on. His jaw dropped.

"I don't like this," Peter muttered to Winston. Louder, he said, "Come on geniuses, what is it?"

"There are two Class 7 demonoids in that building," Ray breathed.

Peter's jaw dropped and he backed up in a hurry. "Demons? I don't like demons. This is not going to be fun."

"Demonoids," corrected Egon automatically. "They shouldn't be as bad as Arzun or Tolay. Hmm, this is interesting. They seem to be discharging energy . . . at each other."

"You mean they're fighting each other?" Winston asked in disbelief. At the physicist's nod he shook his head. "Then maybe we shouldn't get involved."

There was silence as they all considered leaving two battling demonoids in a warehouse on the New York City docks. "What if the wrong one wins?" Ray asked to no one in particular.

"But how can we tell which one's the wrong one?" Peter objected. "And what if they're both bad guys?"

A low rumble interrupted the discussion. The wooden dock under their feet began to vibrate. All four stared down in confusion. Small rocks and rubble were bouncing up and down. Before anyone could say anything a very loud growl was heard from the otherwise silent dock area, unmistakably coming from the warehouse.

Suddenly the sound of splintering wood drowned out the growls. The entire side of the warehouse facing the Ghostbusters exploded outward! Wood, concrete and glass showered down on the docks as dust filled the air. The men had taken cover at the first sound, but there wasn't much on the empty dock.

While the dust slowly cleared Peter jumped to his feet from behind a coil of tall rope. "Everybody intact?" he choked out. When there was no answer for a full five seconds he sucked in another mix of dust and air and rose his voice. "Ghostbusters! Sound off already!" The dust was still too thick to see through. He wasn't concerned about the demonoids hearing him, though he knew they were still out there. He just wanted to find his buddies alive and whole.

A low coughing brought a sigh of relief from his lips. "I'm unhurt, Peter." Egon. The psychologist stumbled blindly toward his friend's deep voice. His tall form slowly came into view through the dust clouds, on his hands and knees behind a large crate of something or other left behind by one of the ship's drop-offs.

Peter helped him to his feet. "Amazing display of telekinetic energy," the physicist commented, pushing his sliding red glasses up his nose.

With a roll of his green eyes he replied, "Sure, Spengs." Then he yelled for Winston and Ray.

"I'm all right, m'man," Winston called. The dust had cleared enough to see he had ducked behind Ecto-1. The black man stood up and brushed himself off. "Where's Ray?"

Peter looked around the dock area wildly. "Ray? Ray, answer me!"

"There!" He turned around to see Egon heading further down one of the docking ports pointing out to sea. A prone figure was lying on the wooden planks.

"Ray!" Peter cried in mixed horror and relief. At least he hadn't fallen into the water. He ran after Egon, hearing Winston's pounding feet right behind him. It looked like the force of the explosion had thrown the occultist down the dock.

He threw himself to his knees beside Ray's supine body. He was out cold, small cuts on his hands and face from the flying debris. There was a large gash above his left eye, bleeding freely.

"Shit, Ray," Peter breathed as Egon checked his pulse. The physicist nodded, half to himself, worry written on his lean features. Peter fished a handkerchief out of his pocket to mop at the gash. He didn't need Egon to tell him, he could see the rise and fall of Ray's chest himself. "Ray? Ray, wake up. Can you hear me?" he called while Winston started checking for broken bones. Only the slight wheeze of shallow breathing was the reply.

Egon abruptly remembered the demonoids. He realized the docks had become silent. Peter and Winston looked up; they suddenly remembered too. As one the three men jumped to their feet and drew their throwers, forming a protective triangle around their downed partner. They turned back to the warehouse.

They were a good ten feet tall, each. One looked just like a giant, pale blue iguana that had decided to stand up and walk around on its hind legs, except for the horns that curled around its bloodshot eyes. The other was a dark yellow lumpy mass with stumpy arms and legs and a squarish head with no neck. Without the warehouse wall the demonoids had a clear view of the docks, the city, and the Ghostbusters. They were watching the men like two children that had just caught a grasshopper under a glass jar.

"Shit," breathed Peter again.

* * *

Sharen had finished her fourth game of solitaire long ago and decided she would have to find something else to do, or go insane with boredom. She had been teaching Sarmoti tic-tac-toe, which wasn't going so well. The dragon understood the concept and the rules, she just didn't understand why the game was played.

But it has no purpose whatsoever, Sarmoti objected.

It's just a game, a way to pass the time. Don't dragons play games when they get bored?

Of course, but our games make sense. This--she pointed to the lines of the paper--has no constructive use.

It's not suppose too! It's just--suddenly the pen dropped from the teenagers fingers as sudden pain exploded inside her head. Fear and panic flooded her mind as a moan escaped her lips and her knees buckled. She sat down on the floor beside Janine's desk heavily. Sarmoti . . . what's happening?

The dragon was hunched over in agony. Whatever was happen to her, her friend felt it too. It felt like someone was dumping too much information into her brain and it was overloading. She almost missed the dragon's reply. It's . . . it's a mindsong, from our link.

Link? We're the only ones linked. What do you . . . Do you mean the guys? Once the thought was formed she knew it was true. They were closer than friends, they were her family, and she had finally learned to trust. There had been a few clues, she realized that now, but she had never put two and two together.

Rational thinking dulled the searing pain and frantic panic building in her a little. Can't you block it out? she begged her companion.

I'll try. A moment later it receded enough to be ignored. She climbed to her feet and shook her head clear. "If something bad enough to push open a link like that came from the guys, then they're in trouble. Come on." She sprang for the double doors, and made it all the way to them before Sarmoti caught up to her and stopped her in her tracks, hovering in front of her.

"Wait, Sharen," the dragon ordered. "You can't leave the firehouse--"

"Don't worry," she cut in before Sarmoti could continue. Rising her voice, she called, "Slimer!" The green ghost appeared above Janine's desk. "If anyone tries to break in I want you to stop them."

"Okay, Sharen," Slimer blurbed. A glare from Sarmoti sent the spud squealing for the ceiling.

"That not what I meant," the red flyer growled. Sharen blinked, her worry for the Ghostbusters replaced with worry for her dragon friend. Sarmoti almost never got angry, not at her anyway. They were like two halves of one whole. It was more than friendship, it was a bond. She saw the fear in the yellow eyes and abruptly understood. Her friend was afraid for the Ghostbusters and her. She was afraid she would lose her entire family, human or not.

"Sarmoti," the girl said firmly. She plucked her friend straight out of the air and held her in front of her. "They need us. They might die without us."

She squirmed in her grasp, shaking her scaly head as if she didn't want to believe. After a stubborn refusal to relax her grip the dragon sighed and stopped trying to escape. "You can't go anyway. You've never been out into the human settlement alone." It was a last desperate chance to protect her friend, the fact that five years of isolation had given Sharen a deep fear of crowds.

But Sharen couldn't be swayed. "I've been out by myself a couple of times," she countered.

"You won't even be able to find the human's ocean front," she objected.

The girl stared into the yellow orbs with finality. "That's why you're going to fly above the city and direct me," she said quietly. In the shocked silence that followed the link resurfaced. The throbbing pain was still there, but the panic had quieted. It felt like she had been hit in the head with something, but she wouldn't concentrate on the pain now. She had more important things to do.

The determination and fear of the teenager flooded Sarmoti's mind. Sharen had once spoke of dying to protect her; now she was prepared to die to protect them. The dragon relented.

Sharen felt it. She nodded her thanks and released her friend, squaring herself for the humanity beyond the doors in front of her. The red streaked for an open window and was above the wide and busy city in an instant, so high anyone who happened to look up would only see a dark speck of a bird.

With the dragon gone Slimer reappeared. He wrapped his skinny arms around the girl briefly in farewell, leaving green smears of ectoplasim on her neck and shoulders. "Bye, Slimer. Remember your promise," she said.

"Won't forget," the green ghost squeaked.

"Good boy. See ya." The girl took a deep breath before stepping out into the city streets. She kept her eyes firmly glued on her feet, refusing to acknowledge the throngs of people flowing around her.

Right, a faint mindsong called from far above. Sarmoti was on the edge of the link's range. Sharen didn't look, just turned right and started walking. Hurry, Sharen. I'm too high up to see anything but where the settlement meets the sea, but I can feel something with my mind. Like when I accidentally traveled to this world. Like an open portal.

* * *

No one said a word or moved. The Ghostbusters continued to aim their throwers at the giant demonoids, but didn't fire. The demonoids continued to stare at the four humans. A halting rumble filled the air, coming from the stocky yellow one. He was chuckling. "This is the best this dimension sends to defeat me?" he sneered in a voice like rocks crashing together. "One of their number is down already. I have conquered more challenging worlds in my sleep."

The horned lizard turned and glared at him. "But you will not conquer this one, Aquail. I am the guardian of this gateway. It was my fault you entered, and it will be my fault that you will leave." This one's voice was smooth and low, with a hint of a lilt at the end of his sentences.

Aquail smiled evilly. "So you say, Dego, but you couldn't stop me from coming here. I doubt you can force me to leave."

Anger sparkled in Peter's green eyes. Now he had someone to blame for Ray's injuries, and they were going to pay. No one messed with his buddies and got away with it. "All right," the psychologist snarled, "we know which ones the bad guy. Let's fry this Aquail." His thrower hummed in his hands.

"I concur," agreed Egon. "It would appear we have the same goal as Dego. Perhaps we can assist one another."

"And what if this Dego wants to stay and do a little sight-seeing after we bust Rocky here?" Winston asked.

"Let's handle one demonoid at a time," Peter suggested. They trained their weapons on the towering yellow giant.

Aquail looked bored. When the three humans changed to attack stances he growled, "Finally." Green slitted eyes slid to the other demonoid. "You know the Law, O Guardian. The defenders of a dimension are allowed one chance to attack without help, to have the honor of defeating me alone." He wasn't concerned that Dego or the humans were a threat, even combined. The blue lizard snapped his jaws closed in annoyance, but fell back out of fighting range.

It was impossible not to hear what the creatures said, their giant voices filling the still and silent air of the docks. When Dego fell back Peter snapped a curt command. Three streams of light shot out together and wrapped around the remaining demonoid.

Aquail gasped as the sparkling light enveloped him, impressed. He hadn't thought these humans had anything dangerous enough for him to call a weapon, but these streams hurt. He found himself barely able to move. Anger burned in the demonoid. These humans dared try to confine him? With a roar of rage he wrenched his stocky foot up and slammed it to the wooden planks.

The dock shook with the force of the stomp, then cracked and split. The conscious Ghostbusters lost their balance and their throwers shut off as their fingers flew from the switches. One of the breaks in the wooden dock was dangerously close to Ray. The unconscious occultist began to slide toward the deadly hole in the wood.

Peter let his thrower drop from his hand as he launched himself after his friend. His hands wrapped around Ray's upper arm just as his weight would have pulled him into the crashing waters below. But the unexpected combination of the fully equipped occultist and his own forward momentum pulled him forward to the jagged edge. His heart lurched as he felt his own weight being pulled into the air below the dock, but he refused to release his grip on Ray's arm. For one sickening moment he was suspended in midair with nothing holding him up. The he jerked to a halt as he felt sudden pressure of someone gripping his ankles. Peter Venkman found himself hanging by his ankles far above white churning waters, an occultist with a fifty pound proton pack locked in his death grip.

"Peter, hold on!" came Egon's deep voice from above, strained and clipped; Peter realized the physicist was the one with the hold on his ankles.

"That was the plan, Spengs," he gritted out through clenched teeth. Ray was going to start slipping through his sweaty grip at any moment. Then the heavy weight abruptly lightened. He looked down, expecting to see . . . he didn't know what. He certainly didn't expect to see a giant blue paw holding up his knocked out colleague and bloodshot eyes gazing up at him from a reptilian face.

Peter stared in surprise, apparently demonoids moved quite fast, but didn't release Ray's arm. The demonoid, Dego, seemed to be on their side, but he didn't have reason to trust him yet. At least he wasn't afraid of dropping his partner anymore.

"I can take your friend someplace safe," Dego said with his hiss-like lilt. "Aquail, by Law, must stay by my gateway until he has defeated the guardians from both dimensions. If you and your companions can stay and distract him I can slip away and quickly return."

Peter hesitated. Trust his buddy to a giant lizard with horns? But it was too dangerous to try to protect him and fight the demonoid at the same time. And he didn't have time to debate with himself either, Aquail could retaliate at any moment. "If anything happens to him," he growled, "Aquail is the last thing you'll need to worry about." Then, after the horned head's solemn nod, he gently released his grip on the occultist's arm.

Dego moved out from under the dock, Ray carefully held in one huge paw. He headed eastward, and Peter remembered there was a fairly large beach area in that direction. True, he couldn't hope that a beach would be that popular in early autumn, but maybe there would be someone there. Someone who could call the hospital and get Ray the help he needed. All these thoughts went through the psychologist's mind in an instant, and he realized how quickly the latest chain of events had passed. It couldn't have been more than half a minute since Aquail had thrown off their proton streams. If they were lucky the demonoid was still recovering from the blast.

As soon as Egon felt the weight he was struggling to hold up lighten he began pulling his team mate up to the top of the docks. Winston picked himself off the ground with a groan and rushed to help. Peter didn't . . . he couldn't have . . . .

The moment they let go of his ankles Peter jumped to his feet. "Ray's fine," he quickly said, seeing their stricken faces. "Dego's taken' care of him. We have to hold off Rocky until he gets back." All three men turned to the ruined warehouse.

Aquail was just lumbering to his feet, apparently knocked down by his own strike, and he was mad. The green eyes in the flat yellow face glowed with rage. And they were directed at the Ghostbusters.

* * *

Can you sense what's happening to them yet? Sharen begged. Each second that passed without news fanned her fear.

No . . . wait, turn around. The girl frowned, but obeyed, heading back the way she came. Since Sarmoti had to stay high above the city, she couldn't see any of the details of the land below her, even with her dragon sight. She was directing her friend to the site of the portal by the feel of the power alone.

Well? Sharen asked, almost afraid of the answer. After a suggestion by the dragon she had made her way to the long string of beaches and dock areas around New York City and was making her way to the guys by following the water's edge. Another cool wind kicked up and she was relieved, because the autumn weather kept the beach she was trotting along free of people.

Some great source of power ahead of you now, the dragon reported. And I can see something--no, someone--on the beach.

What? How can you see . . . . The rest of the teenager's question was left unasked as she rounded the bend of a large pile of rocks by the waterside. The blue giant's back was to her as he bent down over something in the sand. For a moment she could do nothing but stare, stunned by the sheer size of the entity before her. Then a harsh word in her mind from above brought her to her senses. The monster was turning toward her now. In a panic she dove for the only cover near her: the large stones. She pulled herself into a small crevice between two of them, held her breath, and waited.

Her heart was pounding in her ears with her barely controlled screams by the time the giant passed by. With her limited vision she caught a flash of a reptilian snout, curled horns and bloodshot eyes as he passed by. Thankfully, the creature didn't spare the rock pile so much as a glance.

Sharen? Sharen, answer me! Sarmoti was calling.

Sorry, Sarmoti. I wasn't ready for . . . whatever that was. I'm usually pretty open-minded with strange beings, what with all the people the guys meet and you and all. I guess it was just the size of the guy that spooked me. He's gone now, she added. She waited a few more minutes, just to be safe, before cautiously emerging from the rocks.

Quick glances down both sides of the beach confirmed the fact that the blue creature was gone, and that he had left something lying on the sand, well away from the reach of the waves. A strangely familiar--

Oh, my . . . Sarmoti get down here right now! The sudden tangible fear that came with the mindsong sent the dragon into an instant dive, wanting to reach her friend as soon as possible. The wind rushed by her small dragon body as gravity hurled her to the ground, so far below.

Sharen had broke into a run for the unmoving figure on the beach some thirty feet away. The wet sand slipped under her sneakers, but she managed to stay on her feet. Please God, don't let it be him. Don't let him be . . . she couldn't finish. She suddenly realized how much she cared for him, fully realized and embraced the fact for the first time. Sarmoti and herself were inseparable, two halves of one whole, but Ray was . . . he was . . . . She finally said the words to herself she had half feared to admit. Feared that, if she did admit to them, he would disappear from her life forever. He's the closest thing I'll ever have to having my father back.

Both teenagers reached the downed man at the same time. Sharen gulped, blinked to hold back tears; she had faced the worse thing fate could throw at her, she wasn't about to break down now.

Sarmoti gently landed by the occultist's left shoulder. He's alive, Sharen. I can feel it.

She nodded dumbly. But he's hurt, she whispered in her head. The words sent double stabs of pain shooting through them. This was the source of the link. She would have fell, but she was already on her knees by the still man. The girl reached a trembling hand to his forehead and shuddered as it came away wet and red. Oh, Sarmoti . . . . The words were half plea, half moan. She was at a loss to calm the panic and revulsion that coursed through her.

As the red dragon gazed at the pale, drawn face a strange look entered her yellow eyes. Strange, because Sharen had never seen her look like that before. An alien fire glowed in the twin orbs, and the trusted link that bridged their two minds was getting hazy and faint, as if they were far apart. But she was right here! She nearly choked with fear. What was happening? How could she not know, not feel, what was going on in her companion's mind? The dragon slowly reached a scaly hand up and gently laid it on the occultist's forehead.

The teenager watched, dumbfounded. In a moment something made her gasp aloud. An unearthly white light began to emanate from beneath the small taloned hand, bathing the gash on Ray's forehead in its brightness. As she looked on the edges of the broken flesh began pulling together and disappeared! When the wound was completely healed the red dragon sank back in the sand as if exhausted.

To Sharen's immense relief the cherished link between them cleared. "Wow," was all she could say at first. "I never knew Sarmoti."

She bowed her reptilian head and turned away, a little ashamed. I did not mean to keep this from you Sharen, but I am the first magical healer of the dragon clans in seven generations. It was decided long ago, when I was just a hatchling, that I would keep this gift hidden from others as long as I am able. Even so, I would have healed any of you, had the need arose. But whenever one of you are hurt, you either go to a human healer or use human magic to get well. Like when you fell down the stairs and took those tiny white seed pods.

Those were aspirin Sarmoti, but I guess you could consider them human magic, since the chemicals in them are mixed a certain way by humans. But so what? Humans can't really heal anything like you can, they just speed up the natural healing process.

Yes, but they use human magic to do so, the dragon replied, as bright yellow eyes searched brown ones for accusation and anger and found none. And you should never mix two different kinds of magics, especially not human magic with anything else. It has a tendency to strike back at the user of the other magic. I am truly sorry.

"Forget it," Sharen smiled with ease. "I wouldn't want you hurt from anything we did anyway, and I'm sure the guys feel the same way." Her smile faded as a more urgent thought struck. "When's Ray gonna wake up?" The little healer looked down at the man, already color was returning to his pale face and he was breathing more evenly.

Soon, I think. Different people, different time to heal. But it shouldn't be too long, the injury wasn't that bad. The girl grinned.

Then a determined look entered her eyes. "Well, we can't wait for him, and we still have three more men who need saving. He'll be fine here until he wakes up; help me get his pack off." Sarmoti hesitated. Her friend was going into danger again, and there was nothing she could do to stop her. No words or refusals to help would stop the feeling of adventure in her companion's mind. The dragon sighed and began unbuckling.

As soon as they had disentangled person from pack Sharen grabbed a strap and swung the device over her shoulder--promptly falling over onto the sand. Sarmoti trotted over with her toothy dragon grin. Heavy, my friend? she asked.

Ha ha. I'll have you know a mere fifty pounds won't keep me away from my first bust. With a grunt she shoved herself off the wet ground and staggered to her feet. Despite the weight, the pack settling between her shoulders felt so right. She spared the occultist a last look and tender smile. Then, "Come on Sarmoti, we've got creatures to fry!"

The red launched herself skyward again, quickly passing the girl on foot. She sucked in another breath and picked up the pace, following the dragon who could feel the way. No matter what they were going to face, they were going together, as two halves of one whole.

* * *

Aquail burned with hatred. These humans, and that pompous guardian, were going to regret challenging him. When he defeated them he was going to keep them alive, just so they could watch him destroy their world. The thought brought an evil smile to his thin lips.

"Adjust to maximum frequency!" one of the humans called to his colleagues. All three did something to their weapons. The whine that came from the contraptions intensified.

The demonoid's smile turned to a sneer. Now that he knew what their weapons could do he could prepare himself for their blasts. With the twitch of a few stubby fingers he muttered a spell. When these humans fired at him they would be in for a surprise.

Peter finished his adjustments to his thrower. "You think this is gonna work, Egon? He shook off the streams pretty easily last time."

The physicist hesitated just a bit too long. "It should," he replied evasively.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"It means I'm not sure our proton streams are strong enough to stop him."

"Hey," Winston interrupted, "why hasn't Rocky here done anything yet?"

Peter frowned; Winston was right. Aquail was just standing there, waiting, but for what? "This smells like a trap," he muttered.

The yellow demonoid apparently had excellent hearing, because he seemed to be commenting on the psychologist's statement as he taunted, "What's the matter humans, afraid your little toys can't hurt me?"

"He is attempting to goad us into firing," Egon realized.

A scowl replaced the sneer on Aquail's face. He took one thunderous step forward, then halted. The malevolent being seemed to be straining against an invisible barrier.

"And he can't come get us!" Peter exclaimed. "That Dego said something about him having to defeat the guardians of both dimensions before being able to leave the gateway. He's stuck."

Aquail stopped his useless attempt to break his own dimension's Law. With a single quiet word he dismissed the reversing spell he had been preparing for the humans' weapons and conjured up another just as quickly. "On the contrary, human," he snarled at the enemies he could not reach. "I have already defeated Dego when I crossed through his gateway. He followed, planning on helping the guardians of this dimension, the fool. But it looks like he has run, like the coward I know he is. Now all I have to do is finish you!"

Before any of the Ghostbusters could react he rose a boulder-like fist that glowed with power. Like a professional baseball player, he hurled the ball of energy straight at them.

Taken by surprise, the Ghostbusters were unable to escape as the energy hit, enveloping them. Suddenly the world was nothing but a blinding white-hot fire, inside and out. The searing pain shot along every nerve-ending, driving the three men to their knees, then the dock. It was an act of sheer will just to stay conscious. Ages later it seemed the white fire disappeared as abruptly as it came. Only a numbing ache remained, and the strange inability to move.

Peter struggled to lift an arm or push himself up from his supine position, unsuccessfully. He couldn't even turn his head to look to his teammates. With effort, he forced words from his numbed throat, calling their names.

He waited, heart-in-throat, until they answered, sounding worse than he did. Before he could ask if they had a better view of their opponent than he did (his view being nothing but the wooden planks of the dock an inch from his nose) the question became redundant. A large, dark shadow fell over the fallen men. Peter didn't need to see to know what it was.

The voice that rumbled down to them was mocking. "You see, I don't have to kill to defeat. Now you can watch while I destroy your world." But the shadow that covered them suddenly vanished in a bright blue light that lit the dock. The cry of pain from Aquail was music to their ears.

"I sincerely hope these conditions aren't permanent," croaked Egon's familiar voice.

"What a time to develop a sense of humor," Peter rasped. Then he felt a twitch in one arm, coinciding with a second blossoming of blue light. Slowly, with each blue flash overhead, feeling returned to his body. He pushed himself off the wood with relief and looked to Egon and Winston, also picking themselves up. All three turned.

Dego was their savior. He and Aquail faced off outside the warehouse now. The yellow demonoid wasn't bound to the gateway's sight anymore, but he could still be stopped. An occasional flash of blue or white energy flashed between the two as they battled.

Suddenly Aquail threw himself at Dego in a physical attack. Caught off guard, the horned being stumbled back toward the warehouse, where an invisible gateway was still waiting for its guardian to return.

Peter fumbled for his thrower, hanging by its power cable. Everything ached. But they had to stop Aquail before he sent Dego back to wherever they had come from. When Egon and Winston saw what he was up to they went after their own throwers. Aquail's back was to them as he pushed Dego back, step by step. If they could fire before he remembered they were there . . . .

"Ready?" whispered Winston. In a perfect unison born of long practice three brilliant streams reached out for their target.

But the demonoid had been ready for them. A split second before their own energy would have enveloped him, Aquail shifted position. Instead, Dego was hit. As soon as the Ghostbusters realized their mistake their fingers flew from the power switches, but it was too late. The force of the blasts knocked the blue demonoid back the last few steps Aquail needed. There was a flash of unbearably bright light, then Dego was gone.

Peter groaned. He would have slapped a palm to his forehead in an exaggerated gesture, but he didn't have the strength. "Why can't anything go right on this bust?" he mumbled.

Aquail turned back to them with a malicious grin. "It would appear humans are good for something after all." But before he could continue his derisive remarks or his attack a tiny roar of challenge issued from the sky. A red blur dropped out of the blue and shot for the yellow demonoid.

"Sarmoti?" Egon murmured. Who else could it be?

"I don't know why she's here, but I'm not complaining. Go get um you flyin' lizard!" Peter called out. And that was exactly what she was doing. The small red flyer was wheeling circles around the lumbering giant. She was too quick and agile for him to hit. Once, twice, three times she paused in midair, hovering. An impossibly large column of flames erupted from her small jaws, and wherever she struck Aquail roared in pain.

"That'll teach 'im to mess with the Ghostbusters," the psychologist declared. "It's way past time we nailed this sucker." They trained their throwers on the demonoid once more.

Sarmoti paused for the fourth time to flame the ten-foot monster, but the creature had caught on. A yellow hand shot into the air and backhanded the tiny dragon. She was flung out of sight behind a large pile of crates.

"NO!" came a sickeningly familiar young voice. A proton stream blasted at Aquail from behind Ecto-1, still parked beyond the docks.

"Sharen?" all three men exclaimed in disbelief. The girl appeared from behind the white hearse, slowly edging around toward them, her brown eyes filled with hatred as she watched him. One stream didn't hold the yellow hulk, but it slowed him long enough for three more to get locks on him. The four streams held the invader, barely.

Sharen struggled to stay on her feet, the backlash of the thrower nearly knocking her down. Amazingly, her aim was true. Aquail stayed trapped. Realizing where she must have gotten the proton pack, Peter called above the noise of the streams, "Where's Ray?"

"Safe!" the girl shouted back, finally making her way to stand beside them. "A beach, not far."

Egon suddenly remembered that they had left the ghost traps in the back of Ecto-1, planning on getting them after they knew what they had, then forgetting when they found out. "Sharen, you must go get a ghost trap!" he yelled.

"What if three won't hold him?" she asked.

"We can't just stand here indefinitely, and our throwers are charged to a higher frequency than yours! Now go!" Then there were only three streams holding Aquail as she dove for the back of Ecto, knowing the traps were stored there.

When Aquail felt the bright light and pain surrounding him lessen he knew it was his last chance to strike. With every last ounce of his concentration he slowly formed another spell. His stubby hand began to glow again, radiating with intense power, a deep dark red this time. These humans were going to pay for this with their blood.

Egon felt the thrust of the thrower in his hands recede. Maximum frequency drained the proton packs too quickly; they were running out of power. He could do nothing but watch as the three streams before them dimmed.

"What's takin' the kid so . . ." the complaint died on Peter's lips as he saw the demonoid struggle to raise his fist, glowing with a dark red light, through the light of the streams' energy. His murmur of "Uh oh," was unheard over the noise of the streams.

Time slowed. The Gostbusters could only watch as Aquail lifted his glowing fist higher and higher, murder written in his green slitted eyes. Then there was a clatter in the direction of Ecto-1 as something hit the dock. A figure darted between them and the demonoid, and the three men instinctively jerked their fingers away from the switches an instant before the teenage girl would have been caught in the streams. Sharen didn't give them time to stop her. She rushed at the demonoid, drawing the now free being's attention.

Egon knew he had mere seconds to think of something. His scientific mind pulled up a solution, so simple he cursed himself for not seeing it before. There wasn't time for calculations or debates. "Cross the streams!" he exclaimed so suddenly Peter and Winston jumped. "Right now. The gateway's hypothetically still there." They didn't hesitate. The three beams shot out once more, this time aimed at the warehouse.

Incredibly, the streams of energy didn't hit the far wall of the building. Instead, they stopped in midair. Because of its recent usage the gateway didn't take much energy to open. The intense light was back, so bright they could see nothing else.

Even behind closed eyes all they could see was white. Without words, all three knew what needed to be done. Peter and Winston kept their throwers trained on the gateway. Egon shifted his aim a fraction, where Aquail had last been standing, where he hoped he was standing still. They needed to push the demonoid into the gateway. Against the blinding white behind his eyelids the physicist saw a flash of dark red; heard a scream.

Then the light was gone. The gateway had closed. The Ghostbusters searched the dock area wildly, spots dancing before their eyes. Ecto-1 still stood silent, the rectangular shape of a ghost trap lying discarded by one wheel. The warehouse was still standing, barely, with three walls. There was no sign of the yellow demonoid. They had sent him back to his own dimension.

At a price. The crumpled form of Sharen Draffin lay on the dock. They were by her side in an instant. Peter eased the proton pack off the girl's shoulders and held her gently. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. She was totally limp in his arms, and he fought the bile as it rose in the back of his throat. This wasn't the way it was suppose to happen. She wasn't a Ghostbuster, wasn't suppose to risk her life . . . .

"Oh, Sharen," Egon croaked. He and Winston crouched beside the psychologist as he kneeled and held the girl. The blond hesitantly touched her face, stroked her long brown hair lightly, willing her to open her eyes. Winston's dark eyes were closed against the image of the silent girl.

There was a soft hiss, and another friend entered the circle of helpless grievers. The dragon limped on three legs and one wing dragged, but the only pain in the alien eyes was for her companion. She rose on her hind legs and softly touched the girl's shoulder with a scaly hand, the other held tight to her plated chest. She stretched her long neck, peering anxiously into her pale face, then sagged, all life drained from her. "She will not answer my mindsong," Sarmoti rasped, her reptilian voice barely discernible. "Her lifeforce is fading."

"No," Peter whispered hoarsely, not wanting to believe. There was always the danger of something happening on a bust, it came with the job. But Sharen was suppose to be safe, she wasn't a Ghostbuster. They had--

"SHAREN!" a terrified voice screamed. Three heads snapped up as Ray, whole and unhurt, fell to his knees beside them. Stunned, no one said a word as the occultist took the girl's limp body from Peter, tears falling unnoticed from tightly clenched eyes.

Shaken from his shock, the psychologist brushed a hand across his own wet eyes, only to have them tear up again immediately. "What happened Ray? Why aren't you in the hospital?" The gash on his head had vanished, not even a scar remained.

Sarmoti shook her scaly head. "I have the gift of magical healing," she said flatly. "We found you before coming to the battle."

Ray opened his eyes to look at the dragon, hope shining in the pain-filled brown depths. "Healing?" he asked, his voice a plea.

But she only shook her head again, large tears running down her long dragon face. "His magic is too powerful. I am too weak."

The harshness in Egon's deep voice matched the sharpness in his blue eyes. "Try."

The young dragon rose sorrowful yellow eyes to four pairs of human ones. They wanted so much for her to work miracles. Did they not think she would save the life of her second half if it were in her ability? Magic had laws and limitations, though humans often thought it was just a flash of light or a strange word. Still, she could try. She would try. It was the least she could do for over five years of faithful friendship.

Placing her clawed hand on the girl's forehead, the red healer dived into the blackness that was Sharen's mind. Deeper and deeper she dove, past fleeting memories and flashes of emotions, but she couldn't find the spark that was her lifeforce. Soon she felt her own strength fading. She couldn't push through the darkness any longer, and still there was no spark in the darkness. The dragon was about to retreat back into her own mind when a strong, fiery energy filled her. It shoved her down farther into the dark, burning away the forces that held her back, so she could easily swim down and down. The Ghostbusters, she realized. She was being energized by their powerful feelings of hope and love. They gave her the strength she needed to continue. Sarmoti doubted they knew what they were doing; humans weren't often aware their emotions were so strong they could effect the cosmic magic of the universe.

With the four humans lending her strength she was able to dive deeper than even a fully trained adult magic healer would have been able to go. She sensed the blackness fading as she dove deeper still. Then, ahead of her, a light. It was Sharen, alone and afraid, trapped in her own dying mind. The dragon reached out with her own and caught the bright light that was the girl's lifeforce.

Now was the more difficult part: returning with her friend to the surface of her mind. Firmly holding the girl's awareness in her own, and feeling Sharen holding on just as tight, Sarmoti started upward. Every move was like fighting a rushing current, but neither faltered. The power that had struck the girl tried to push her farther and farther down into her own mind, until there was nothing left, but they weren't giving up without a fight. Sarmoti could sense the surface above her, calling for them both. The Ghostbusters' emotions were still there, as strong and fresh as ever, like lifelines in the rapids. The dragon grabbed on and used them to pull Sharen above the blackness.

Sarmoti opened her eyes to find foggy brown ones gazing up at her with love. Her features brightened into a dragon grin, but her enjoyment was short lived. She could feel the weakness of the teenager's mind. For all her great healing powers, and all the love the humans had for them both, and all of Sharen's strength, they had only prolonged the inevitable.

"Sharen!" Ray quietly cried in delight. She struggled to raise her eyes to the concerned faces above her, a shadow of a smile on her lips.

"Why'd ya do it girl?" Winston asked softly. The occultist hadn't been there to see what the black man was referring to, but he didn't look up in question. All his attention was fixed on the frail girl in his arms.

Sharen drew a breath, forcing her weak body to obey her mind's sluggish commands. "Had to," she mumbled. "Ugly would've took you out. Couldn't let happen . . . ." she trailed off as her meager strength wore out and guilt flashed across their faces. A fresh surge of grief emanated from her small friend by her side. It confirmed what the girl already knew, could already feel. She was dying. Oh Sarmoti, how can I even begin to say what I feel when I think of you--

Say nothing, she injected. You don't have to, brave one. I know.

Assured her companion knew how much she loved her, Sharen returned her attention to the Ghostbusters, and saying good-bye. She drew another breath.

"Don't try to talk," Egon ordered the young girl. "Conserve your energy, we'll call an ambulance." She shook her head weakly.

"Still stubborn, Sharen?" Peter attempted humor.

It brought a slight chuckle from her. "Now he calls me Sharen," she murmured. Then she grew serious again. "Gotta tell you guys some'in; 'm not gonna last much longer."

"Don't talk like that Sharen," Ray said fiercely, tightening his grip on her. She fumbled for his hand and tried to squeeze reassuringly.

"Quiet for once, guys. Can feel myself fading." She stopped for another breath, not so deep this time. Her voice was going, and they fell silent helplessly to hear her. "You took me in, gave me a home, family. Taught me to trust humanity again, no easy feat. Couldn't have met a greater group of people, and I know it sounds corny. Gonna say it anyway. . ." Her eyelids were falling, but not before a lone tear trickled down her cheek and a smile quirked her lips once more. ". . . love you." Sharen sighed. Her eyes closed and she was still.

"Sharen," Ray whimpered softly. He shook her gently, but the girl didn't stir. His brown eyes sought out the dragon's yellow orbs, begging for some other solution. She looked away. "No," the occultist moaned, wishing he didn't believe.

The desperation in his friend's voice made Peter flinch. "Ray--" but any words of consolation, inadequate words they all knew, were cut off when a dark shadow fell over the sorrowful crowd. His heart in his throat, the psychologist snapped his head up, half fearing the flat yellow face would be looking down on them with that triumphant sneer.

Bloodshot eyes gazed down at them instead, the blue, lizard-like face solemn. Dego saw what had happened, that a young human had sacrificed herself to send Aquail back where he belonged. "Aquail has been defeated," he reported to the defenders of the dimension. "Your weapons have closed my gateway, for now. There is another only I am aware of that leads to a place not far from here. I am only sorry I could not return sooner." Five pairs of pain-dulled eyes assimilated the information apathetically.

One of the humans jumped to his feet suddenly, green eyes blazing. "You!" he cried with rage, pointing an accusing finger at the demonoid. "This is all your fault! If you had kept him in your own dimension where he belonged . . . ." The blond human stood and put a hand on his shoulder and he turned and leaned against him, sobbing.

Dego looked away, out over the sparkling waters surrounding the human city. "There is a way . . . perhaps . . . ."

Sarmoti snapped herself out of her sorrow at the words. She stretched her slender neck towards Dego and fluttered her wings as if she was taking off, though one was sluggish to respond. "What?" the small dragon demanded loudly. "What can you do for her? She is already gone!" She found herself hoping. Maybe this demonoid had powers beyond hers, beyond Aquail's!

Dego turned back. "If I do--if I can--she can not return to this time, this life. My Law forbids it, and I can only work within the Laws of my people. I will send her somewhere on this planet, some time, and block her memory of this life. She will not remember you, but she will be alive."

Sarmoti watched the Ghostbusters look at each other, their human faces unreadable. What were they waiting for, the Great Crossing to return? Then again, what was she waiting for? She didn't need any humans' permission. "Do it," she ordered the demonoid. Without waiting a heartbeat to see if any dare object she pulled herself onto her friend's shoulder. "And you will send me with her."

"Sarmoti--" Winston began quietly, but she cut him off with a frosted glare.

"We are two halves of one whole. I will not live without her."

Dego accepted the declaration. "I must block your memory as well," he told her. The dragon nodded once.

Peter shook his head slightly, but it still felt like it was spinning. Things were happening too fast. Sharen was . . . but might not be . . . but they would never see her again? And now Sarmoti was following her? He wasn't in control of the situation, and he didn't like it one bit. Dego's suggestion hadn't done anything to banish the dead numbness he felt inside, and he wondered faintly if it should. Could he lose both of them? He didn't think so, but he didn't have a choice.

"Ray," Winston was calling, gently tugging the younger man by the shoulders. "C'mon man, you gotta let her go."

Ray looked at the innocent girl's face one last time. "It's not going to be easy living without you, Sharen," he whispered. "Take care of her, Sarmoti." The dragon smiled without happiness, and for an instant he thought he heard faint words echo in his head. Good-bye, great sorcerer.

The occultist couldn't watch as the teenager he had come to love left his life forever. It was the only way, the only way to save her. Ray buried his head against Egon's lanky shoulder and felt familiar long arms encompassing him. Even with his eyes tightly squeezed shut, unsuccessfully trying to keep back tears that had been coming for some time now, he saw the brilliant flash of light through his eyelids.

For a long time that seemed to last for eternity he didn't look up. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he rose his head. Peter was turned away from them, looking out over the open harbor, shoulders shaking. Winston was staring at his hands, still and silent. Egon's gaze shifted from Ray to Peter and back again.

As if sensing the blue eyes on him, the psychologist turned to his colleagues. His face a controlled mask, only the pain in his eyes and a forlorn sigh that escaped his lips told how he really felt. Egon released his loose clasp on Ray to head over to him. Peter was the kind of person who buried everything inside, trying to pretend he felt nothing. Only Egon could get through in that regard. As the physicist left him standing alone, Ray gazed dully around the dock area.

The warehouse, between the missing wall and the battles that took place both inside and out, was barely standing. The dock had several large gashes ripped into it, and realizing he had no idea how they got there reminded him of the gap in his memory. After the explosion the dust had been so thick he hadn't seen the plank of wood sailing for his head until it was too late. The next thing he knew he had woken on the beach, minus his pack, and he could hear distant sounds of proton streams.

A further scan of the area where . . . it had happened shoved that Dego, Sharen and Sarmoti were gone. Not a trace remained to show that the two brave teenagers had paid the ultimate price to protect the world.

"C'mon, Ray," Winston was saying behind him. He turned and saw the black man bending down to pick up a discarded ghost trap. Egon was leading Peter back to Ecto-1, which was mercifully far enough away from the broken dock to be able to drive away safely. Sharen was still alive, somewhere, the occultist tried to tell himself. He couldn't feel grateful, couldn't feel anything. He was a hollow, empty shell, and he couldn't imagine ever feeling any different again.

"C'mon m'man," Winston repeated as Ray hefted his proton pack off the ground stiffly, robot-like. "Let's go home."

* * *

A week later Ray paused in the doorway to the girl's makeshift room. It had taken him this long to force himself to even go up to the roof. The sight of her belongings brought a sharp prick of grief. He had been wrong: feeling had eventually returned to his person. He wished it hadn't. Every thought, every memory seemed to remind him of Sharen and Sarmoti and the pain of loneliness always followed. He didn't understand. They were alive, they were okay. So why did he feel like someone had died? Shock, that was what Egon said it was.

The occultist sighed and made himself walk into the tent-like room. He set down the empty cardboard box he had dragged up with him and began putting the novels from her bookshelves into it. He took the posters off the walls, one by one, and rolled them into scrolls and put them into the box.

"What are you doing?"

The voice made him spin around. Peter was in the doorway, watching him with the same dull look on his face Ray saw in the mirror each morning, and on Egon, Winston and Janine too. He shrugged noncommittally. "Gosh, Peter, I don't know. I thought . . . I don't know what I thought."

The psychologist came in and lowered himself down onto the cot; Ray sat down hard next to him. "Thought gettin' rid of this place will make you feel better?" he asked his younger partner.

The auburn-haired man shrugged again. "I guess, maybe. Peter, why don't we feel better? They're not dead; they're just not here." Brown eyes looked at him pleadingly, asking him to explain.

Peter shook his head, more trying to make sense of it himself than refusing to answer. "Shock, guilt, watching someone die--we did, even if she's alive now," he added when Ray was about to object. "But you're right, they're not dead. I think we just have to keep telling ourselves that, and give it some time. Hey," he abruptly changed his tone, forcing lightheartedness, "at least now we can run around in our underwear again."

That evoked a small smile from Ray, more for Peter than because he felt any better. Eyes cast downward, a flash of bright red caught his attention. It was the corner of a book, peaking out from under Sharen's pillow. "What's this?" he murmured, retrieving the hidden object. It was a think, white-lined notebook, its red cover blank.

Curious, Peter looked over his shoulder as he opened to the first page. On the top line, in Sharen's obvious handwriting, was one word: Dragongirl.

The two Ghostbusters scanned the page. "It's a story," Peter realized, taking the notebook from his buddy, green eyes flipping through the filled pages. It was one of those several subject notebooks, and filled almost to the end. He whistled. "I'll admit, the kid's got talent."

"It's a manuscript," the occultist added. "Sharen's manuscript."

The psychologist rose an eyebrow. "You sayin' you want to publish this thing somewhere?"

Ray smiled, a real smile, unforced. "I think she would've loved the idea."

"Sarmoti, on the other hand, would've had a bird," Peter smirked, wryly remembering the dragon's constant caution of being discovered. He could see her now, ranting and fuming, glaring at them and accusing them of trying to bring knowledge of her kind to the world in one of her rare fits of dragon rage.

"Aww, Sharen could've talked her into it easily," Ray replied, standing up and heading for the door. "Besides, no one's going to believe a dragon lived in New York anyway," he called over his shoulder. "Come on Peter, we have to go find everyone and show them what we found!"