They'd been ecstatic, of course.

Aton already had plans. He was looking forward to spending some time with his wife, who to her credit hadn't left him though he'd barely seen her in three years, and getting to know his son, who as Aton reminded her, had just turned four. Okay, so Rachel felt profoundly guilty about that one. She'd completely forgotten he even had a son. Maybe he'd just been tight-lipped about it…his tribe wasn't called the Silent Striders for nothing. He didn't mention it, but Rachel figured he was also planning on spending a good deal of time communing with the spirits; she doubted a Theurge could go long without it.

John had actually shown up at the house to thank Rachel's mother personally. Suck-up…weird Ahroun, too. He was the only jovial, relaxed uber-warrior ball-of-Rage she'd ever met. It was always creepy, but she figured it had something to do with all the 'awakened' pot those Children of Gaia always seemed to be smokin'.

But Pascale had wanted to talk about it for hours…about guys with cute accents, seeing the sights, guys with cute accents, bringing back souvenirs (Pascale was hoping for something in the tall, dark, sexy, and with a cute – Irish if possible – accent category), drinking a few pints of Guinness in her honor, and remembering to play plenty of pranks in homage to her. About an hour into the conversation, Rachel thought a mute Ragabash would be a wonderful thing. But she knew better than to hang up the phone…she'd done that only once. She didn't even want to think about the 'harmless prank' that happened a week later. She never did get all that paint out of her jacket. And sure, Garou were quick healers, but taking a surprise paintball to the gut still stung. Then there was the near-frozen water balloon volley…and a week later there was the shrink-wrap that Pascale had somehow managed to encase her car in. Not all around the outside, actually, she'd somehow gotten it around the car but inside the doors, so Rachel would bounce off when she tried to get in. What exactly, she wondered, was the purpose of the tricksters? Oh yeah, she reminded herself, they were there to be a pain in her ass. Grrr…

It was about an hour and a half later that the fairly one-sided conversation started to draw to a close, when Pascale suddenly screamed into the phone. "OH MY GOD!"

Rachel pulled the phone away from her ear, wincing in pain, then brought the phone to her undamaged ear. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Pascale made an irritated noise. "I almost forgot to ask what you were going to pack is what!"

Mutes could be so much fun…she was certain of it. "You tried to take my head off to ask about my luggage?" Rachel almost added, 'are you insane', but she really didn't want to know the answer to that particular question.

"Hey, curious is all. Have to hear what you're taking along or I can't tell you what you're forgetting."

Well, that would actually be useful information, if it were coming from just about anyone else…someone who, for example, wouldn't get upset with her for not bringing silly string. No use avoiding the question, though. "You know, the usual…my laptop, a bunch of CDs, a camera, clothes, oh, and toiletries of course. I'm not taking my cell, by the way; it won't work there. I'll buy a new one in the airport and call with the number."

Rachel swore she could hear Pascale shaking her head at her. "You know, you Glass Walkers crack me up. I don't know if I've ever seen you more than six inches away from that laptop, even when we're in a fight. I mean I once heard you compare that one fight with the ginormous pack of Spirals to hacking the Pentagon in five minutes or less. I think you should leave it behind. That way you just might actually discover this thing called life."

"Hey, my laptop is not to blame for my life…or lack thereof, according to some people. And besides, that was a truly righteous hack, and you know it. You may well be more at home in an Irish bar, but I know you know your way around a computer. Anyway, I can't leave the laptop behind. I need to take notes for my mother, and I do not handwrite anything." In all fairness, Rachel did think that comparing hacking the Pentagon to her pack taking down a pack of eight Black Spiral Dancers without serious injury was a bit on the stupid side, but how else did one explain what sort of accomplishment that hack was to some Uktena mystic who didn't know a mother board from a cutting board? "Any other suggestions?"

"Well…I should just forget to mention it, seeing as how you're ignoring my advice, but I'd recommend an umbrella. Just think how disappointed your darling laptop would be if it got rained on. It might not speak to you for a month. And by the way, I still say that it was a stupid idea to awaken a laptop in the first place. Computers are already screwy enough. But you had to have one that could actually crash on purpose just to piss you off."

Well now, that was just untrue. Robert – no, she did not name her computer, it simply introduced itself to her as Robert when she awakened the spirit – only crashed if she, or anyone else, called him Bob…and Pascale had made a habit of saying 'Hi, Bob' every time she walked by. So, technically it was Pascale who was crashing the computer to piss her off, but Rachel figured Pascale already knew that pretty darn well. The pack really could use a mute.

"Thanks Pascale, I'll remember to take an umbrella. Can I let you go? This has been a very long day and all I want is to do a little Tai Chi and then pass out."

"Sure, Raych, I'll talk to you later. Just keep in touch with us while you're gone or we're liable to start worryin' about you."

Rachel wondered if she should worry, as that had actually sounded sincere. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'll call at least once a week. I give you full permission to worry if you guys don't hear from me at least that often, okay?"

"Works for me. Good night, hon, and you take care of yourself over there. And don't forget to bring me back a hottie. I need to convince the parental units that I'm making an effort to keep the Celtic blood runnin' strong in the family, you know. And remember I prefer Irish, but I'll settle for hot with a sexy accent."

"Good night Pascale, and I'll do what I can about bringing you back a living, breathing sex toy, all right?" And she said Glass Walkers were weird. Perhaps the GWs had a little too much fondness for human technology, but there were worse vices. The Fianna, for example, could be truly disturbing. The Celtic tribe's reputation for hedonism was well earned.

"Fair enough, sweetie. Bye now!"

"Bye." Silence, Rachel thought, was a truly glorious thing.

The fireworks were breathtaking this year, Rachel mused.. And the roof of her parents' house was a great vantage point. Okay, so she couldn't see the low ones, but from the top of the house Rachel's sisters couldn't ask her any more questions or remind her what questions they wanted her to ask. That afternoon, she'd told them to 'make a goddamn list and shut the fuck up'. Well, technically she'd screamed it…right in the middle of her dad's big Fourth of July barbeque…in front of most everyone they knew. So her mother had suggested that maybe Rachel would have a better time tonight watching the fireworks on the roof. Stupid Rage…could she really help it that part of her was a wild creature? Her mother did seem to forget pretty easily that Rachel wasn't exactly a normal human girl. And besides, Rachel was pretty sure than even a perfectly normal human girl would have eventually snapped, the way the little twerps kept nagging her.

But the roof was quiet, and Rachel used the time to go through her mental checklist. She was packed, and was getting more than a little antsy. In twelve hours, she'd be at LAX. In fifteen hours, she'd be in the air. Ten and a half hours later, she'd be at Heathrow airport. Her mother had gotten a couple of owls in the past few days. Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts had agreed to meet with her at the school on July eighth at teatime, more commonly known as four p.m. by the not-British. There had also been an owl confirming that Mom's cousin Arthur and some of his kids would meet Rachel at the airport. Some of his seven children – seven! And she thought having three siblings was bad; which brought her back to why she was stuck on the roof.

Her mother really had been quite upset about the screaming and the cussing. 'One of the few days your brother has off from work, and can spend with his family and friends,' her mother had scolded. One of the few days, my ass, Rachel thought. It really wasn't like Todd had to ask for overtime every single time it was approved. Todd, of course, was quite proud of his work ethic – Japanese tradition, working hard you know, Dad's quite proud I keep the old traditions alive, blah, blah, blah…

Rachel often thought to herself while he was going on, and on, and on, that she worked hard too; she just didn't bore people to tears about it. And her father, while certainly Japanese, didn't really have a better or worse work ethic than most other American men in his age bracket. But Rachel figured that Todd felt the need to bring it up over and over again because you'd never have realized he was half Japanese if he hadn't brought it up himself. Well, you could see it a little bit around the eyes, but that was it. Other than that, he was a fairly nondescript sort of guy: dark brown hair, light brown eyes, about 5-foot-ten. As for the rest of her family…

Darcy, like Todd, barely looked Japanese, but she was anything but nondescript. She had very straight, silky hair, which she bleached, and eyes that were usually hazel, but often changed color with her clothing. Though she was only fifteen, if Rachel hadn't known her, she'd have guessed that Darcy was seventeen or eighteen. She was five and a half feet tall, had flawless sun-bronzed skin, a willowy figure, and she was poised and graceful. It was no wonder boys were already practically beating the door down. Darcy would break hearts, and laugh in cold-hearted glee while she did it. Outwards, Darcy was one continuous blonde moment, but Rachel could see the planning behind the act. No one ever took Darcy seriously, and Darcy knew it, and used it. Rachel didn't know exactly what she used it for, but she knew the wicked smile and the gleam Darcy would get in her eye when she had gotten away with something. Rachel honestly wasn't sure she ever wanted to know what it was that Darcy was up to.

Leah was the opposite of the others. Not only was she soft-spoken and unassuming, she also seemed to have taken her appearance entirely from their father's side of the family. She was a bit small for her age, had jet-black hair, and dark brown almond-shaped eyes. She was also brilliant. Her IQ was probably off the charts. She had, after all, finished high school before her eleventh birthday, which was about a month away. Rachel was sad to think she might well miss another of Leah's birthdays this year. She was the only one of her siblings that reminded Rachel in any way of herself.

After all, she had the same jet-black hair and almond-shaped eyes, though hers were hazel rather than brown. Rachel had always thought that she was the only child that really looked like a product of both parents. She was just about a perfect mix. She had her mother's curvy figure, though it was harder than her mom's from years of hard exercise, her father's hair and bone structure, her mother's nose, and a mixture of their eyes. Like her sister, she was very bright. She didn't graduate from high school ahead of her peers like Leah, though. She'd skipped a couple of grades, but knew from the time she was very young that she wasn't a witch, so she hadn't set a goal of finishing school by her eleventh birthday like Leah had. Then during the summer between her Junior and Senior years of high school, she'd had her 'accident'.

Her first change had been traumatizing and bloody, but she'd yet to find anyone whose first change wasn't. At any rate, she'd become a part of Garou society after it happened. A distant relation had shown up at the house and explained what she was. She spent a year away from her family, learning about her people, about herself, about auspices – how a young Garou's path was partially dependent on what phase of moon she was born under. She was born a Philodox, the half-moon. As a Philodox (or as the second child in the family, in her opinion), she was meant to be a mediator and the enforcer of the rules. That was why most pack alphas were Philodox – they were well suited for leadership roles. Sometimes Rachel really hated it, but it did feel like her purpose. And she was good at it, which was just a bonus. After that year, despite advise to the contrary, Rachel had chosen to go back home and finish school. There, she learned why the Garou stayed out of human society. The Rage, the Beast within, made regular people nervous. A lot of her friends had graduated, and the ones who were still there were wary of her. She heard them whisper to each other about her 'accident' and how she was 'really weird now'. Her senior year had been painfully lonely. She'd made one friend that year, though, fell for him really hard in fact, and then a few weeks before graduation he was in an accident…a real one. Some bastard didn't see him on his motorcycle. He was dead before the paramedics arrived on the scene.

After that, she threw herself and her pack into the fight and never looked back. She'd been all over the world, and had barely noticed any of it. Maybe this trip would give her the chance to actually see that world; discover that thing called life, like Pascale suggested. As the last of the fireworks died in the summer sky, Rachel looked forward to her trip for the first time.