Hello all! Here is the next chapter in Camilla's story. I do hope you enjoy. I've got four chapters completed and am about halfway through the fifth. I'm thinking this will be anywhere from ten to thirteen chapters all in all, but I never can tell where the story will take me. :)

Walking the path of the protection spells took her all over the building, down sets of stairs and through rooms that were pointedly empty. There was so much space covered by the glyphs, top to bottom and left to right. It was all fairly randomly placed, the writing sometimes overlapping thus becoming unreadable. She spent so much time staring at the walls and ceiling that she hadn't noticed that she was no longer alone. A mistake that shouldn't have been made, Camilla berated herself for allowing her guard to drop while she sidestepped a low table.

The man was sprawled at the far end of the room in an armchair that had been pushed back against the wall. He held a manila folder, the pages of which he was reading intently. Knowing she had scant seconds to make a clean getaway, Camilla backed out of the room and moved to the side down the hall. Scampering off, she retraced her steps and made her way through the house again, tapping on a few of the glyphs to ignite their weak powers. It would be stupid to remove them before she had the time and energy to rewrite the spells in their fullness and perfection. And, she would need the people out of the way—best to save that task for much, much later.

Not knowing what else she could do on her own Camilla began a search for Darcy so that they could go over the basics of what she could and could not do for the foreseeable future. Astar's focus on her was going to stunt Darcy's social life a bit, which was probably going to chafe some. Camilla found her sitting in a deep pit of pillows, nestled next to a long-limbed man with short, curling black hair. At first, Camilla wasn't spotted, so it gave her an opportunity to watch their interaction rather voyeuristically. Clearly, they loved each other, and perhaps it was this foundation that gave Darcy the edge she needed to be able to defeat the supplicant without losing her own life. Love was a very powerful weapon against the dark forces of hell and sometimes it was the dividing line between living and dying by the hand of a demon.

Entwined as they were, it took a moment to figure out why their hands kept moving back and forth in a smooth sway above their bodies. Camilla's eyes widened as she saw a small ball of pulsing power being tossed between them playfully as a sort of game. She leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms across her chest, silently chastising herself for her continuous surprise when it came to Darcy Lewis. Far more than meets the eye, the girl had depths that Camilla was determined to explore her her heart's content. Perhaps it was Darcy's affinity for magic that led Astar to seek her out—the demonic were always drawn to the most magically sensitive of the population.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd tried to take an untrained witch into his clutches as he'd sought Camilla out for much the same thing. Camilla, however, had the added bonus of being a potential on top of her natural magical abilities, which pushed Astar to work outside the normal cycle of oppression and possession in order to acquire her skill. She shivered as she remembered her twelve year old self cowering in the corner of her closet while objects were thrown left and right across her bedroom with vicious intensity. As much as Astar repulsed her, he also sent cold tendrils of fear across her body in visceral waves. At twelve she had been so completely unprepared for Astar's attack that he'd weaseled his way into her body, pulling the very flesh from her bones before the council had sent Claire, fresh out of training, to exorcise him.

Stepping from the doorway, Camilla decided to make herself known to the occupants. Now that she was aware of Darcy's new proficiency, it would give her an in for protecting her much more efficiently. Magic was the cornerstone of dealing with the demonic because it was used to call and banish the entities as well as a means of protection and enhancement of their power. It was also fickle and tended to backfire rather easily if the user is off by even the most minute of details. Camilla worked with magic very rarely, preferring the harder sciences of research and investigation for fear of Astar catching her magical thumbprint and following her to whatever bolt hole she had chosen to hide in. Still, she was competent enough to draw out Darcy's skills and to help her hone them for a fight.

"I can see where the protection spells came from," Camilla said as she sauntered towards the couple.

Darcy flinched as if she had been caught doing something wrong, her hand dropping the ball of magic in her surprise. The man caught it easily and sent it away with a flick of his wrist, his eyes narrowing at the newcomer in question. Camilla immediately felt the turn of power as he silently challenged her defenses. Tempted as she was to retaliate, she had no idea what he could be capable of and it was best to keep her cards close until she absolutely had to reveal them.

"You didn't say that you were a wielder of magic," Camilla continued as she sat in a nearby chair. "That's a very good skill to have."

The man sat up so that his elbow draped casually over his knee, but Camilla could see the tension rising in his body that told her his suspicions were growing. "I do not believe we have been introduced."

"Camilla," she replied lightly, "I'm here to help Darcy get ready."

His eyes narrowed further so that all she could see was the faint slit of green, "I am Loki. What does Darcy need help in preparing for?"

Tilting her head to the side, Camilla simply said, "For the next attempt on her life. She's attracted the focus of a very dangerous entity who isn't known for giving up as easily as seems to be the case here."

Loki stood in a movement that rose from the floor like water and Camilla watched him pace over to her. "Pace" wasn't the right word for it, his steps were slinky like some large cat moving low to the ground. He stepped out of the pit, his hands rolling outward in a gesture of question as he spoke.

"What do you know about the thing that attacked Darcy?"

"Everything there is to know," Camilla answered with as much confidence as she could muster under the stunningly intense gaze he was giving her. "Astar is my own, personal demon."

His movements ceased, his body stilling preternaturally, "Did you bring this on her?"

"No." Then, "Is everyone in this building naturally suspicious, or is it something in the water?"

Darcy rolled her body out of the pit and pushed to standing, her smile wide despite the tension in the room. "Loki's just looking out for me. He worries too much."

Loki wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her firmly to his side, his height giving him an advantage in that she could not dodge his reach. "I worry just enough. For someone so small, you get into a lot of trouble."

She laughed, running her hand across his stomach so that she could hold him in a loose embrace, "Just following your lead, magic man." She then turned to Camilla, "He was, like, a complete mother hen after I got hurt. Still is, sometimes."

Loki rolled his eyes, but she could see the affection with which he held her, as if he thought she would break at the slightest touch. It was something that Camilla had experienced first-hand after Astar's initial attack. The people she held close were either too distant or stifling, no one was really sure how to treat her. She was lucky that the sigil had been placed on her skin where she could hide it easily; otherwise every family holiday would have been just one big batch of awkward.

Fixing her once again with that impervious gaze, Loki asked, "How do you know the entity will return."

Camilla shrugged, "It's part of the pattern he has. I'm guessing that he was able to break the seal between Earth and Hell with the blood of the supplicant, but that the failed ritual shot him through the veil to some other part of the planet. Once he figures out where Darcy is, he'll come back, he always does." She patted the other chair, "Let's go over the details again, from when you were given the assignment. Maybe there was something I missed."

Darcy nodded and sat across from her at the table while Loki moved across the room and pulled a book from the shelf. Though he sat on the farthest couch from them, Camilla could see the way his eyes followed them, flicking upwards from the page to keep a constant watch on their exchange. While she appreciated his care for Darcy, Camilla couldn't help but to roll her eyes a little. There was no reason for the group to be suspicious of her, what with her credentials and the reputation of her agency. But, she supposed that they had been exposed to the demonic in probably the most sensational way and that was bound the make them a little jumpy. Their cautious attitudes only served to contrast with Darcy's seeming carelessness. She accepted Camilla's role as her teacher willingly, was compliant with all requests she'd made of her so far, and seemed genuinely ready to take on the challenge. Camilla was grateful for the relief of having to deal with denial and wailing.

As she listened to the story once again, Camilla stopped Darcy once or twice to ask questions.

"Where was the book?" It disappeared.

"Have you investigated the doctor's office lately?" No, we're mostly still recovering. "

Has the paranormal activity stopped in the house?" As far as we know.

Things seemed to have gone back to normal, but that was a deceptive reality. If they dropped their defenses now, it would only give Astar the opportunity for the element of surprise. Camilla was determined to prevent an ambush, if she could help it.

Leaning back in her chair, Camilla crossed her arms and sighed, "Well, I guess we will start with the doctor's office tomorrow. I'll make an appointment during the day and we'll, I don't know, pretend to get lost or something."

"Cool," Darcy replied, "Can I wear a disguise?"

"If you want," Camilla replied. "But wear jeans and a t shirt or something, in case we have to run."

Darcy's expression was eager, almost child-like in its freshness, and it made Camilla smile fully for the first time in quite a long time. She shook her head, and shooed the girl away, letting her get back to canoodling with her lover. Heading back to her room, Camilla sent a message to Claire, who had been silent since she arrived in the mansion the previous day. She wondered if the service on her phone was affected by the insanely thick walls, but she had all her bars and her apps seemed to work just fine. Throwing the phone onto the bed, Camilla paced the length of her room a few times in thought. She would case the doctor's office, see if she could find the map Darcy had spoken of and maybe get a few more clues along the way. It was a good, solid plan, but Camilla knew that even if they found out how the supplicant had chosen Darcy the demon was another matter entirely.

Sliding her suitcase from beneath her bed, Camilla reached in and pulled out her journal. It was the only receptacle she had for all the things going on in her life since most normal people—that is, anyone who hadn't been exposed to the demonic in their lives—would lock her up for the things she had seen and written about on the pale pages. There were several more just like it, black with a sturdy hardcover and simple lined leafs, along the length of one of her shelves at the office. They had exceptionally tight security there in the belly of the earth and she felt safe storing them there while she was away on business. Occasionally, Camilla would go through them and read her thoughts from years back, stunned at how angry she had been with the world. Then, she would set the journals aside and be thankful that she had managed to make it to thirty without getting herself killed in some reckless attempt to end the craziness happening all around her.

Claire had been a great help during her formative years, offering advice and swooping in at just the right minute to take over when Camilla would have faltered. The keeper was the only member of the team to start out in her position and to live to the ripe old age of thirty seven. Most of the potentials died before they could make it past their twenty fifth birthdays, some didn't even make it through training. Camilla pulled up the edges of her sweater to reveal the glyphs along the back of her forearms, the tattoos given on her eighteenth birthday. They were the marks of the potential that had completed training and was a fully fledged Guardian, slayer of demons, and keeper of the balance. The ink had been mixed with some powerful potions to create a binding and protective force that, unfortunately, also drew the eye of every unnatural thing in a ten mile radius. Camilla had been fledged for two days before coming to understand that simply walking the streets of crowded cities was no impossible to do without some kind of escape plan or cloaking. Thank god for online shopping, or she'd never be able to replace her often ruined wardrobe.

After jotting down a few notes about Astar's return and her uncertainty about Darcy's sanity, Camilla closed the journal and returned it to its hiding place. She then glanced at her phone once more in a vain attempt to see if Claire would return her messages. Knowing that the keeper was very busy, increasingly so, she decided she would try to be as patient as possible. Camilla had a skill for patience, could wait out any entity that sought to catch her off guard. It had come in handy during her training for interrogations, though not so much in hand to hand combat. She didn't like fighting, didn't like the immediacy of it and the constant need for awareness of one's opponent. Camilla always thought it best to lie in wait, coiled like some cunning cobra, until her opponent had to make a move. Seizing upon their own impatience, she could take them down with much less work than if she were in an actual hand to hand fight.

With a big day ahead of her, Camilla changed into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top before sliding into bed. Flicking off the light, she rolled to her side and settled into her pillow with a contented sigh. Thoughts of the case swirled around in her head for a long time, until her mind grew weary and she dropped into unconsciousness. She didn't know how long she was sleeping for, but quite suddenly Camilla was wide awake and tossing around trying to get comfortable again. Pulling the sheets to the side, she tried one leg thrown over the comforter, hair pulled away from her neck, resting on her back, side, and stomach, none of it seemed to work. She was awake and would remain so for an unknown amount of time. Lying there in the darkness, Camilla stared out of the window at the trees as they stood like sentinels in the night. The wind wasn't blowing and the air both inside and outside was unmoving and static. Nights like these were perfect for walking the streets as most people found them too stifling and muggy, thus, remaining inside. She didn't dare leave the building and try to trek the grounds alone, however, as she had not yet figured out how the security system worked, though she was sure something had been put in place.

A growl sounded from her stomach, reminding her that she had not yet had dinner and the uncomfortable emptiness in her abdomen needed easing. Rising, Camilla grabbed a zipped, hooded sweatshirt and pulled it on as she slipped her feet into a pair of flats. The kitchen was a familiar walk down the hall and through the living room, though she had never actually been inside it. Like the rest of the house, it was technologically advanced, with matching black and stainless steel appliances. A large island dominated the center of the room, expanding the counter space so that there could be enough space to make meals fit for a banquet. It was also, like the rest of the house, a little too sterile as if it had never quite been broken in by a proper cook.

Camilla pulled open a few cupboards and checked the refrigerator, her suspicions confirmed. There wasn't a lick of food in the house, not even a forgotten can of peanut butter or half used bag of rice. Eyebrows drawn together, Camilla's shoulders slumped as she opened a few more drawers and cabinets. Even the pantry was empty of anything but pots and pans that looked pristine.

"Why isn't there any food in this house?"

"I believe I can answer that," came a voice from somewhere above her head. Camilla shrieked and backed into the nearest wall, her eyes frantically searching the room for the person speaking.

"Who the hell is that?" She called out as she edged towards the exit.

"I am called JARVIS and I am the AI that runs the building for Mr. Stark. There is no food brought here because most of our occupants have their own kitchens."

Camilla blinked, "AI? You're a robot?"

"I am a computer program," Jarvis replied.

"Oh," she said with a slight shake of her body, returning her muscles to looseness. "Okay, so no food. My room doesn't have a kitchen, do you think Mr. Stark would mind if I used this one?"

Jarvis' reply was indulgent, "As he had never entered this room, I think we can safely say you may use it at your leisure."

"Great," Camilla answered, a little befuddled at having a conversation with a robot. But, it wasn't the strangest thing she'd done, so she figured she could let that anxiety pass a little. "Where can I get some food?"

"There is a twenty four hour market about two blocks from the premises. Take a right as you exit the driveway and it will be on your left."

"Thank you," Camilla said as she left the room, her mind switching to the mission of getting some proper food before her stomach imploded. Her body had a naturally high metabolism and she burned through her fuel pretty quickly. All of her kind had that quality and she never really wondered about it enough to ask why. She supposed it was a result of her bloodline and genetic structure, the two aspects that predetermined whether or not a person was a potential for training.

After running back to her room to grab her wallet and keys, she slipped out a side door and skipped to her car. Throwing her wallet into the passenger's seat, Camilla started the car and worked her way through the directions Mr. Stark's stunningly lifelike robotic butler had given her. The supermarket was like any other, though she made it in and out in what had to be record time due to the late hour. Securing her groceries in the trunk, Camilla turned and scanned the near empty parking lot, a habitual quirk driven hard into her during training as a means of self protection. She made sure to set her eyes on the shadows and catch any movements of the all too still night. Satisfied that nothing and no one had followed her, she schlepped into the car and made her way back to the mansion.

Once inside, she carried her newly acquired food into the unused kitchen, setting it out neatly on the island for inspection. She had enough to carry her through the week, possibly more if she was frugal, not that it really mattered. Camilla had use of a company card for her food and lodging and she had long since passed the point of feeling guilty for using it. If she ran out of food, she would simply buy more and that was all there was to it.

Putting away the unnecessary items, Camilla rifled through the cabinets until she found a large mixing bowl, a blender, and a skillet. Into the bowl went oatmeal, cottage cheese, cinnamon, honey, sugar, eggs, and a little milk, and into the blender went the mixture. She pulsed the blades until the oatmeal ran smooth before preheating the skillet. As she turned to search for some kind of nonstick spray, Camilla caught a shift of shadows in her periphery. Tensing only for a moment, she followed through on the movement already in place, turning towards the knife block in case she needed a weapon. From down the hall, a man appeared, striding very slowly as if he knew she would spook easily. She recognized him as the man she'd walked in on earlier that morning from his sandy hair and the arch of his shoulders. Still, there was no need to feel relief yet, she didn't know what he wanted.

Her gaze must have been very direct, because he began speaking just before entering the room, "Heard some movement, and just came to check it out."

Camilla nodded, easing away from the cabinet, "I couldn't sleep…and I was hungry."

Cool eyes dropped off and to the side to inspect her ingredients, "Oatmeal?"

"Yeah," she breathed, feeling inexplicably embarrassed at her granny-esque food choices. The feeling was quickly dismissed, however, because she like oatmeal and anyone who had a problem with it obviously was making it wrong. "I'm making, um, oatmeal pancakes."

Both brows lifted in surprise, "Really?"

"Uh huh. Are you hungry?" Camilla had made enough for two, if the pancakes themselves were fairly small, but she wasn't going to share the extra syrup. It was hers, and syrup was sacred. Honey, too, if she wanted to get technical. Shaking herself, Camilla set to work testing the readiness of the pan before scraping some of the mixture out of the blender and plopping it on the heat, followed by two more dollops to the left and right.

"I'm Clint," the man said, taking a seat at the island.

"Camilla," she replied absently, while she looked for a spatula. Really, it would have been more efficient to find it before setting the batter on the griddle, but she had been distracted by the visitor. She could admit to herself that he was attractive, but Camilla had seen what a pretty face could hide. He was also making every effort to appear nonthreatening, walking in slowly, announcing himself, and taking the seat on the far side of the island. Perhaps she had been doused with whatever made the people in the building question every motive because even though she really did appreciate the effort, she still wanted to know what he was after, if anything.

"Where did you learn to make oatmeal pancakes?" He asked conversationally. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, touching a few of the boxes on the island curiously, probably trying to figure out what was in batter.

Camilla shrugged and resisted pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt up as the heat rose to color her face and neck. She didn't want him knowing about the tattoos, didn't want anyone knowing about them just yet, as they told far more about her than she wanted as public knowledge. "A friend taught me on the road. I wasn't eating the best kinds of food, mostly diner stuff, and it was affecting my performance."

"Any good?" When she glanced up at him in question, he continued with a charming smile, "Just want to be prepared."

"The texture will take some getting used to, but there's syrup over there and that should help if sweet is what you're aiming for."

He laughed lowly, "Sweet is always what I'm aiming for."

Frowning, Camilla wondered if he was flirting with her or if there was something else in the suggestion of his tone. Without a lot of experience in the area of men (demons tended to take more of her time than anything else and they didn't really have a gender, though they chose whatever form suited them best and sometimes they appeared male or female), Camilla had to let the comment slide by plating the pancakes and setting them on the island for Clint. She poured more of the batter into the skillet and leaned hip against the counter to observe his first bites.

Clint reached for the syrup first, dousing the plate so thoroughly that she almost called him on it, wanting enough for herself. She held back out of some latent form of courtesy buried deep in her consciousness. He cut a portion off of the stack and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and a little dramatically for her benefit.

Smirking, she said, "Texture, right?"

He shrugged, "Not bad, for oatmeal."

Flipping the pancakes to cook the other side, Camilla asked, "So, I assume you work for Mr. Coulson's team. How do you like it?"

Even though she couldn't see him directly, Camilla could practically hear the shrug in his voice, "It pays the bills, and I get hone my skills while having a little fun on the way."

Ah, she knew that feeling. There were times when Camilla could be bored to tears on assignment, but most days were exciting because she could use her own personal repertoire of abilities to lay low some arrogant piece of shit demon who thought to possess a human being. Seeing the look on their faces as the entity left their body, the relief and the joy, was enough to get her through the rough moments, the indecision, and the occasional bouts of fear.

"What are your skills?" Camilla ventured as she plated her food and turned off the burner, setting the skillet aside to wash later.

Clint's eyes narrowed ever so slightly and she thought, for a moment, that she might have crossed a line with her question. But, that charming smile returned and with a flash of teeth he replied, "Marksman."

"Oh," she said, pouring a hefty amount of syrup over the pancakes. "And, you're the best, right?"

The smiled widened, "Absolutely." Then, "Quid pro quo, what do you do?"

Camilla took a bite while she considered her answer. Just because he was working for Mr. Coulson didn't mean he was trustworthy, but she hadn't exactly been secretive with anyone else about why she was here. Yet, there was something about him that made her a little more cautious. Clint was…she didn't know what he was, but it made her stop and think for a minute. She wanted to choose her words carefully, wanted to move in a way that wouldn't give away her own inner nature, which was very much a new thing for Camilla. Hiding was something she was very good at, but being evasive or having the urge to outright lie was not.

Realizing that she was taking a little too long to reply, she cleared her throat, "I'm here to help Darcy deal with the aftermath of what happened."

"You mean the…" He held this hands up in a gesture that was vaguely reminiscent of 'Thriller', "thing."

She laughed, "Yeah, that thing."

He nodded, "She needs it. Kid's been having some pretty intense nightmares."

"I know," Camilla whispered, "I hate it for her, but these things do tend to leave something behind when they happen."

Eyes flicking up to her face, Clint fixed her with an expression that was equal parts earnest and piercing, "Can you fix it?"

"I can try," was the only answer she could give. "It will take time."

Clint's smile returned and Camilla felt her chest tighten strangely as the ease of his emotions. "Good," he said with finality. "Means I'll see you around."

Unsure of how to respond, Camilla simply nodded and cut off another piece of pancake, pushing it around the plate. "I suppose you will."

He rose from the barstool and touched the countertop by his plate, "Thanks for the oatmeal."

"You're welcome," came her immediate reply, but he was already striding out of the kitchen, his shadow following along behind. She watched that shadow go until the hall was only filled with the faint light of the floor lamp and then set about working to clean up her mess. By the time the pans were scrubbed and the food stored, Camilla began to feel that first pull of heaviness. Giving in to the fatigue, she made her way back to her room and threw her body onto the bed, clothes and all.

The next day started a routine that would continue for most of her days at the mansion—she rose, showered, dressed, and went in search of Darcy. She found her in Tony's lab after having to present two forms of identification to the guards standing just outside the elevator. Darcy waved from her seat in front of a very complex computer system, pushing at the rims of her glasses as they slid off her nose.

"Hey Camilla, ready for some detective work?"

Camilla pulled her hair up into a ponytail as she walked, "Ready when you are."

Hopping up, Darcy slid a stack of clear sheets over to the opposite side of the desk, "Here, boss, gotta run for a bit. I'll be back after lunch."

Tony spared her only a small glance, his expression very nearly petulant in his blatant disregard for Camilla's presence. They hadn't spoken since that first day and she figured that was by Tony's design because he really didn't seem to like her very much from the looks she was receiving, when he chose to send her one. Shaking her head, Camilla walked with Darcy out of the lab and back to the elevator at the back of the hall.

"So," Darcy said, rolling onto the balls of her sneakered feet. She had worn, as Camilla had asked, a pair of worn jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Her hair was braided in some kind of complex pattern down the length of her back and even though her glasses continued to slide off her face every other aspect of her dress was meant for practicality. "What's the plan?"

"You're my daughter and we're getting you checked for pregnancy," Camilla answered confidently. For this investigation, they were walking in a little blindly, but most doctors' offices were shaped in a similar fashion and she had a knife strapped to her ankle just in case. Camilla had never had to take down a human being before outside of the occasional supplicant, but she was sure that if it came down to it, there would be no hesitation.

"Just like an episode of teen mom, but aren't you a little young to have a daughter my age?" Darcy said with a smile and a wink.

Camilla scoffed, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Sweet."

They took Camilla's rental to the offices even though Darcy recommended they take one of the company cars. The sleek black fleet of vehicles was a temptation, but Camilla was pretty sure a working single mother who had a grandchild on the way wouldn't drive an Audi, no matter how good the child support had been. Parking, Camilla made her way into the building with Darcy, and signed them in under a false name for which she had a faux insurance card. She hoped they didn't ask for identification, though Darcy could possibly pass for fifteen if she slumped enough.

Taking her seat in the waiting room, Camilla held up a magazine and pretended to read while scoping out the nursing staff. They were all leggy blondes or brunettes, which wasn't exactly uncommon if the doctor was a misogynistic asshat as some doctors tended to be. But, they were all going about their business in a way that indicated to Camilla that they at least were trying to seem like a real medical office.

After being called back, Camilla took time while they walked down the hallways to count the doors and to peer into as many as possible. Most were patient rooms and a couple were offices that she would need to check out in a few moments. She went along quietly while they took Darcy's weight and height, writing it down on a chart they had started for her. Once ensconced in a patient room, they asked all the normal questions: What was she in for? Pregnant? How far along? You must be very excited? Oh, not excited, I see. Shall we get your temperature?

When, finally, the nurse left them to wait for the doctor, Camilla sighed and stood from her chair. "I'm going to check out that line of offices, see what's inside."

"Okay," Darcy replied, eager. "What do I do?"

"Sit here and pretend to be pregnant." Camilla turned from the open doorway, "Distract the doctor, if you need to."

Darcy flicked a small strand of hair from her cheek, "Awesome. Do we need a super secret signal or something?"

"If I'm running, you should probably run," Camilla retorted, rolling her eyes and waving as she stepped out into the lonely hall. Closing the door behind her, Camilla tip toed down to the first office and tested the knob—locked. Debating for only a second, she called on what little magic she had available to her and turned the lock on the other side. Sliding into the room, she did a quick perimeter scan, noting that the office seemed to be unused. After checked a few of the cabinets and drawers, she listened at the door for footsteps and then locked the room before moving on to the next. Camilla went through two more rooms in much the same manner before entering a room that gave her pause.

On one side was a corkboard that was sprinkled with little holes across the surface, though the actual board was completely empty. She fingered the demolished cork for a moment before moving back through the room to the desk. It took a little work, but she managed to pry open one of the drawers, stooping to see what was inside. Eyes narrowing, Camilla reached in and pulled out a pile of papers and pictures that seemed hastily thrown into the drawer as if as an afterthought. She rifled through them for a few moments, noting the numerous pictures and scribbles. As she was about to throw the mass back into the drawer, Camilla caught the edge of a familiar smile. Darcy Lewis looked back at her from a small candid shot from across the street. She was window shopping with some girlfriends along a strip mall, looking happy and healthy. Dropping her head, Camilla pulled the rest of the papers from the drawer and shut it, tapping them along the edge of the desk to line up the edges.

Darcy was coming out of the exam room as Camilla stepped from the office. Pulling the door closed quickly, but quietly, Camilla stepped up to her holding the papers behind her back and smiling at Dr. Asshat.

"What did I miss?"

The doctor placed a clipboard under his arm and ran his hand through his hair, "Well, I'm sure you'll be glad to know your daughter isn't pregnant."

Sighing in mock relief, Camilla leaned against Darcy and pushed the stack into her open purse, grateful that the girl had a penchant for oversized satchels. "Oh, thank god." She gripped Darcy's arm, speaking quickly and loudly as she pulled her through the hallway, "You're grounded young lady, until you're thirty. I don't want to see you around that boy ever again."

Her lecture trailed off as they moved through the waiting area and into the parking lot, their pace unstoppable until they were safely in her car. Even then, Camilla started the engine quickly and put the car in gear, wanting to be as far away as possible when they figured out that she'd pilfered from them.

"Take a look at what I put into your bag," Camilla said while she navigated the streets, one eye carefully watching her rearview.

Darcy shoved her hand into her bag and pulled out the stack, sifting through it with interest. "Hey," she called out excitedly, "I've seen this stuff before."

Camilla shot her a sidelong glance, "You have?"

"Yeah, when Loki and I broke in there. That's where we got the book."

Blinking a few times, it took a minute for Camilla to catch up to the thoughts whirling around in her head. She pressed her lips together, squinting at the windshield as this feeling of incredulous shock descended. Of course, Darcy had seen it before. It was a major plus for the investigation, but there was this niggling feeling of 'it was too easy' hanging around at the back of Camilla's mind. She pulled into the driveway of the mansion and as soon as she could find a parking spot, she cut the engine and turned to Darcy, eyeing the girl carefully.

"Can you remember how the information was arranged?"

Darcy chuckled with mischievous amusement, "I can do you one better—I got pictures."

I'm having a little trouble pinning down how I want the characters to relate. I usually look for a few kinds of relationships-those that are combative, those that challenge, those that nurture, and those that bring out the worst. There will definitely be a little of all of these in this story as Camilla relates to not only the Avengers but also to her own team.

Let me know what you think. Reviews=LOVE.