It's been too long; health & financial issues nailed my creativity, writing, & posting of this originally, and it wasn't until NaNoWriMo 2014 that I was able to struggle back. So, yes, this is being reposted. It's been so long since I dropped it, most folks probably don't remember where it left off. On top of that, I had to re-work both "Voodoo Doll" and this tale to correct errors in the date (my fault: I didn't realize the show set "Doll" a year earlier than I stated in my version) and to bring both tales in line with the backstory as it's come out in the other tales.

So...the characters of Frank & Joe Hardy, their dad Fenton and Aunt Gertrude all belong to the Simon & Schuster. Those characters as portrayed here are based on the 1970s TV show "The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries" that starred Parker Stevenson & Shaun Cassidy, created by Glen A. Larson, with my own AU twist. The show accepted paranormal phenomena as real, and I've taken that ball and run very very far with it. For those not familiar with the show, Bayport is in Massachusetts, the Hardys' mother is dead, Joe never dated Iola, and Aunt Gertrude lives with the family. The brothers are also a bit older in the show: Frank and Joe are 19 and 18 here, respectively. And yes, it's THAT Jamie.

Please note: this is a sequel to "Blood Circles: Voodoo Doll", and picks up right after that one left off, so much of this tale may not make sense unless you've read that one.

Quick definition of terms & Gifts:

Shimá = "mother" (lit. "my mother"). Navajo
shiché'é = "daughter" (lit. "my daughter). Navajo
Magic = energy & reality manipulation, the ability to warp and shape energy to a desired effect.
amp (amplifier): able to boost others' Gifts up to crazy levels.
Spirit-Sight: able to see ghosts, fairies, things that go bump in the night - in the '70s show, Joe seems to have this; he was always seeing weird stuff that no one else did.
Jack (aka Jack of All Trades) or a "mix": someone with a touch of several Gifts.
TK, telekinesis (also called teek): a very focused, specific mage-Gift that can lift objects.
PK, or pyrokinesis ("pyro"): focused, specific mage-Gift that can set fires.
Spirit-talker: (aka "medium"). Someone who can communicate with ghosts. Seeing with the Sight doesn't necessarily mean being able to hear them.
Telepath: able to speak mind-to-mind
Empath: able to sense, control, and manipulate others' emotions. The term 'path in these tales refers to both telepathy and empathy, since both usually appear in conjunction.
Healing: being able to heal wounds with the force of one's will. Sometimes takes the form of just speeding up the natural healing. Rare forms can also sense/heal disease. This is the rarest of all the Gifts.
Far-sight: seeing things at a distance that normally couldn't be seen.
Precognition (aka "precog"): seeing the future.
Touch-reading: able to see what happened by touching an object in the vicinity.

# # #

# # #

Spring 1978: San Francisco

He liked pain.

Edward added in another careful line to his drawing, deliberate, dark, heavy. That was the best part about drawing. You could do whatever you wanted to your picture, and there weren't any messy after-effects such as screaming that drew too much attention or adults who seemed to always interfere at precisely the wrong moment.

He didn't mind the blood, though. It was all part of it. It was proof of endurance, proof of what had occurred, proof of one's strength when another's flowed. Tac said that, and Edward believed him. Tac never lied. As long as the blood wasn't his, Edward could deal. If he was giving the pain, he wasn't receiving it.

That was the best part of all.

He sat alone in the corner of the abandoned apartment building, old pencils and crumpled paper scattered around him. He'd had to leave that stupid shelter for the moment. The adults were getting too nosy. Especially that ugly little blonde.

Edward might have to eventually do something about two of those children, too, though for now, they were obeying the fear and keeping his silence.

He was special. They were not. The group had told him that. The group had given him Tac. The group had assured him that Edward's special-ness was a gift, proof of his superiority that he could be Tac's vessel. The group knew a lot. The group had accepted Edward and given him Tac. They listened to Tac. And all Edward needed was to make the final step, to make the final choice, to find a truly willing victim, and Edward would never be hurt again.

Tac had promised him, and Tac never lied…

# # #

Rita was dreaming. It was a good dream.

Food, lots of food: hot tortillas fresh from the griddle and wrapped around smoky-sweet pork and peppers fresh-picked from the farm that morning, oozing melted, hot queso fresco. Warm, soft bed with colorful blankets, a pillow that smelled of fabric softener and not the sour musk of whoever Mama had been with. Windows that showed nothing but hills covered in green grass and those silly big-eared sheep. They nuzzled her and lipped her nose, and Rita giggled, her hands deep in their thick wool…

"Get up."

Something shook the world, a rude hand interrupting the food, bed, and paradise. Rita stayed right where she was, curled deeper into her dream. Whatever it was, it was rude, and Mama said to ignore rude people. Rita didn't want to wake up. Waking up meant bad things.

"Get up. Now. You must move."

The hands lifted her bodily out of the dream, shaking her so hard that Rita gasped — and she was staring into That Face.

"Leave her alone!" Emelio rushed That Face in an attempt to tackle, but That Face only stood there, unmoved.

"Eme!" Behind That Face, Mama stood, eyes wide with shock.

Eme was Rita's brother. Eme insisted he was her big brother, but he wasn't that big. He was only nine. But he was smart, he was fast, and he didn't let anyone hurt Rita, ever, not since one of Mama's customers had thrown Rita down the stairs last year. But then Mama had brought them here…

That Face set Rita down. Yawning, she rubbed at her eyes as Mama helped her struggle into clothes. Mama's face was pale, and she fumbled at the zippers and shoelaces, then wrapped Rita in one of the warm, colorful blankets.

Now Rita was scared and she clung to Mama. Mama only looked scared when the people wanted Rita in the Room. No, this time Rita wouldn't go, she wouldn't, she wouldn't!

"There is no time. If you want to live, you must come now." His words barely understandable through his accent, That Face wore his usual wide-brimmed leather hat, leather jacket, and rich-people's sunglasses — even now, even though it was dark outside the window — and always, always, the glow around him, hard-edged light of his clothes and the softer, fainter glow that emanated from That Face himself. That Face was always calm, ever since the Elvis-Man that Mama giggled over had assigned him to watch Rita and Emelio.

"Saul won't like it, Vladi," Mama whispered. "He won't hurt us. I know he won't."

"He already hurts us!" Eme burst out. "He hurts Rita and you don't care, Mama!"

Mama raised her hand, but That Face grabbed it, stopping her before she could slap Emelio.

"Stay if you wish," That Face said. "But the children come with me, whether you will or no."

Mama fidgeted, then dropped her gaze. "Do as he says." Fear was thick in Mama's voice.

"Carry her." That Face scooped Rita up and handed her to Mama. "Come."

Rita couldn't walk that well. Despite being big brother, Eme clung close beside Mama, too, as they followed That Face through the People's farm. Rita could see lots of lights near the dining hall, but That Face was leading them in the opposite direction, towards the fields — Rita's heart leaped in excitement, and she stuffed her thumb in her mouth to keep quiet, as she hadn't done since she'd been real little. They were getting out!

Eme and Rita had been so excited when Mama had told them about it — a free vacation to this farm, offered by someone Mama had loved before Rita was born. When the man had found her again, Mama had acted like the older girls at the shelter who giggled over the guys in Karma. Mama had believed the man when he'd said he still loved her. He looked a lot like Elvis, but he'd scowled when Rita had called him that, and Mama had been quick to shush her.

It'd been a fairy tale, the way Mama told it, and this farm was paradise, compared to their tiny, run-down apartment in the projects of Hunter's Point. For the first day or so, it had been, anyway. It was a real farm full of sweet-smelling meadow grass and funny sheep and fresh, good food that Rita and Eme had gorged on. Everyone had been smiling and happy to see Rita and Eme. Everyone had given them treats, and there'd been other children to play with, and Rita didn't have to worry about hiding from Mama's customers…

…and then Elvis-man had taken Rita and Eme into the Room.

Rita shivered, ducked behind the big stinky wheel of one of the tractors. That Face had them ducking and hiding, waiting in shivering silence behind buildings and bales of hay and tractors as others passed by. He was acting a lot like the secret agents on TV, in fact, and Rita tried to stay as quiet as she could. She knew about secret agents. She and Eme loved those shows on TV, with all the exciting and dangerous people trying to help others out.

Way over there, Rita saw people lining up outside the dining hall. It confused her. It was well past bedtime, and Elvis-Man enforced bed-times, since everyone had to work on the farm. Oh — wait. A drill. Was that all? The Elvis-Man did the drills a lot. Everyone stood in a line, and they got a paper cup full of Kool-aid. Rita didn't understand it, but it seemed important to the Elvis-Man that they drink Kool-aid. So why were Mama and That Face acting so weird?

"This way," That Face whispered. "Hurry."

He led them out across the fields…then light burst over them. Shouts, a sharp shock of noise, and Mama grabbed Eme and hit the ground, covering both Rita and Eme as best she could. That Face ran towards the noise. There was another noise, the light cut off, and then That Face came back, wiping his hands on a dirty handkerchief.

"Move," he said.

Through the dark fields — more lights had come on back towards the farm, shouts, weeping, people crying out — but That Face kept them moving. Rita clung to Mama as best she could, but it was hard. That Face led them a long ways out, through a gully and up a dry, weedy slope until they reached a small VW Bug, hidden in the brush next to one of the unpaved access roads.

"Go," That Face said to Mama, after she'd loaded Rita and Eme into the back. "Drive that way, to Milpitas. No headlights until you reach it. Do not stop for anyone. Pull into the McDonald's lot and wait. I will meet you there." Then, when Mama hesitated, he grabbed her, pulled her close, snarled something out…and Mama shrank back, nodding.

Rita and Eme huddled in the dark back seat, as Mama started the Bug and drove and drove, fast and bumpy over the fields and gravel.

"We're going back to the city," Emelio whispered. "I heard him telling Mama. He wants us out before they really hurt us."

Wide-eyed, Rita sucked in a breath. She'd been praying, she'd been hoping, and Jesus and the pretty Lady of Guadalupe had sent her that wonderful dream, a dream that That Face had interrupted, and he'd led them to freedom. It was a sign, it had to be a sign…