He was fast approaching a mansion, squeezing tightly in his hand an invitation. To the door's left, just under the bell, a small plaque read OUROBOROS SOCIETY. These words were encased inside the image of a snake biting its own tail. There was no reason to be nervous, William thought. The new president was meeting everyone, he wasn't the only one.

Inside, he was about to crash into a desk placed outside the vestibule, which blocked the access to the rest of the mansion. The young man behind it greeted him with a forced smile.

––William McLaren? ––he inquired––. The president will meet you at the salon.

––Thank you.

William went around the desk and walked towards the hallway. He had almost made it to the back of the salon when he spotted them, apart by just a few short inches. Jackson had his back to the door, but he could see the face of the man Jackson was looking at. It belong to young man named Noel Underwood.

All the suspicions that William had harbored at some point came rushing back at that moment. Noel Underwood was one of the first members of the Society, and everyone in it knew about Noel's preferences in romantic companionship. He had spent months with Jackson before he took off to Rome. William used to wonder if anything had ever happened between them. Jackson and Noel had a lot in common. They were both orphans sheltered by Dr Strickland. Both of them said they remembered details about multiple past lives. And both of them were unbelievable beautiful. Noel particularly, with that silky short ebony hair and that perfect slim, broad shouldered-narrow waisted body of his. Jackson had always insisted that they were just friends, but, seeing them together, William had to admit they made a gorgeous couple.

––You don't need him anymore ––Noel sai, with a voice a little stronger than a whisper––. We both know you're only after his money. Now that you're Strickland's heir, we can finally be together. Like it's meant to be!

Feeling like the air had been sucked out of his lungs, William ran towards the door. He couldn't afford to pass out until he'd managed to get away. In the vestibule, however, he crashed into someone coming down the stairs. The man caught him in his arms before he fell.

––Handsome ––a voice both relaxing and alarmed––, are you OK?


He was getting up the stairs to the entrance of the mansion. The silver snake was the first hint of him being at the right address. Before he had a chance to knock, the door swung open. While a servant walked him to the main room, an arm took his in the hallway and pulled him into a dark closet, full of winter furs.

––I saw you in the entrance ––it was his voice––. We had a few minutes until they find us.

He pushed William against the wall, a mink fur coat in his back. He traced the contour of William's body with his hands, and he felt his warm lips in his when he bent to kiss him. For three weeks he hadn't thought about anything other than that. He forced himself not to pass out, refusing to let his legs give in. Even so, it all ended too quickly.

By the way in which Jackson took his hand, he knew he already belonged to him. He walked him by the mansion all the way to the main room, where a group of people talked by the fireplace. He hadn't seen Jackson since Rome, and he wanted to study him for a minute. When he caught him staring, he smiled that same mischievous smile that made William's heart beat so fast back at the Piazza Navona.

––Here he is ––Jackson said, presenting him to a silver-haired gentleman with an old-fashioned suit––. This is William. William, I would like to introduce you to doctor August Strickland, founder of the Ouroboros Society, a club so exclusive no one can pronounce its name.

Doctor Strickland laughed.

––It's a pleasure, mister McLaren. I've heard so much about you. Jackson says you'll be a wonderful acquisition to our Society.

He turned surprised towards Jackson while he smiled a bigger grin.

––And he ––Jackson added, pointing to a stunning young man next to the doctor–– is Noel Underwood.

––Nice to finally meet you, William. ––Noel said to him. His voice sounded friendly, his expression was deadly. William didn't remember meeting anyone that he disliked so soon.


Walking by the restaurants, he looked at his reflection in a window. The suit his mother had bought him just a couple of hours ago was a perfect fit.

––You look even more handsome than yesterday. ––Jackson whispered in his ear. He laughed and let go of his hand as he opened the door. It was his first night out since the funerals, the first night in which they felt like spending a night out in the town.

Inside the restaurant, people were growling, tipsy by the home-made gin served in tall glasses. However, once William and Jackson were by the entrance and a few of the people inside noticed them, people started to get quiet. William was really starting to worry.

––Mr Montgomery! Mr McLaren! What are you doing here? ––the maitre rushed to ask.

––Is something wrong? ––Jackson asked, and for a moment the man seemed to quiet.

––You should leave ––he finally answered––. Come back when the rumors have gone off.

––What rumors? ––William asked.

––Killer! ––a man yelled from the back of the room.

––Please! ––the maitre insisted.

A blinding white light received them on their way out of the restaurant. Jackson grabbed the man by the neck. He had a photo camera.

––Who are you? ––Jackson asked.

––Take your hands off me! I'm from the New York Daily Mirror!


Will opened his eyes to the sound of the front door closing. 9 PM. Saturday. That meant his mom and Marlena would be now going to the movies. It was time to make the most of his time alone, however, his head was spinning and the confusion of his dream was enough to make him dizzy. He had been convinced that there was a slight chance that the answers to most – if not all- his questions could be found in New York –– more specifically in Sonny Kiriakis. But now, he didn't know what to make of this dream. He remembers this Noel person, talking to Jackson, "his" Jackson. Telling him how they're meant to be together, how Jackson's only after William's money. And what about the whole "Killer" and the guy from the newspapers? What was going on? What if what Noel said was true? What if Jackson really killed someone…? What if he was only after his money? What if…? There was only one way to solve all of this…

––New York City, here I go. ––Will said, getting up from the bed. ––But first.

The results of the Google search of "Doctor August Strickland" landed Will a small bio:

August Strickland. Teology professor. Columbia University. Funder of Ouroboros Society. Born January 21st 1862. Died June 15th 1927. –– Murdered?

There was a link to Strickland Mansion.

The Strickland mansion was built in 1852 by entrepeneur Samuel Strickland, whose family lived at the southern limit of Gramercy Park for the next seven decades. In 1920, the majority of the Strickland's fell victim to sadly popular strain of influenza. The only survivor was August Strickland, Samuel's nephew. Having lost his wife and children to influenza, August Strickland became obsessed with the concept of reincarnation. In 1923, he founded the Ouroboros Society, an organization dedicated to work with people who had had previous multiple lives. The OS welcome people of all conditions and was one of the few private clubs to accept women as members.

One of the recipients of August Strickland's generosity was an enigmatic young man by the name of Jackson Montgomery, whom the doctor had raised since his early years. Members of the OS thought that Montgomery possessed incredible talents, and Strickland took it upon himslf to further this reverie. Without a family, Strickland left his protegée his extensive fortune. August Strickland died unexpectedly in june of 1927, and Jackson Montgomery received as part of his legacy the Gramercy mansion, to become, for a very short time, the fifth richest man in New York.

Rumors started to spread quickly. It was said that Jackson Montgomery was responsible for his mentor's death. Montgomery refused the charges vigorously, to the extent of donating the mansion and the Strickland fortune to the Ouroboros Society. But he died in a residential fire before he could clear his name. The fire remains a mystery until now, the only thing that is known was that Montgomery wasn't the only one to die in that fire. Reports say that his burned remains were found next to another burned body. Official release say that whoever that was, must've had a special connection to Montgomery, as their body were found tightly bound in a full-on hug.

Nowadays, that mansion still harbors the central of the organization founded by August Strickland over eight years ago.

Will's eyes returned to the photo cover. A big mansion, covered in ivy.


He was making his way through the crowd. All the men were wearing grim-looking black tuxedos. Women were wearing big hats with long black dresses and lace appliques everywhere. Every person he would walk by would have red eyes, and some were still weeping. Doctor Strickland had died.

He looked for Jackson. Guests were waiting for the heir of the Strickland fortune to say a few words. But Jackson was gone. He heard some people talking inside Dr Strickland's office.

––Is it true that Montgomery's inheriting it all? ––a gentleman asked.

––Yes, lucky bastard. ––another one cursed.

––As far as I'm concerned, luck had nothing to do with it ––another one joked.

––I don't know what you're implying ––another man hissed. The voice belonged to Noel Underwood––. Jackson and Dr Strickland were like father and son.

––He's right, James ––say between giggles the second gentleman––. We don't want to pay attention to silly rumors. Who did Strickland name to run the Society?

––That, my dear friends, would be me. ––Noel proudly proclaimed.

––Wow, Noel, you're taking over the Society. I would guess that means that we're in for a lot of changes. ––the first gentleman said.

––That's right, Michael, I am already working on a system that will allow our members to help each other develop themselves.

––Doesn't that already exist? I have just donated a lot of money to help out in one of Strickland's charity works, a ten-year old Physics genius in New Jersey.

––Well Christopher, this new system will see it that you're rewarded for your generosity. ––Noel stated.

––You mean like an accounting system? Didn't Strickland believe in doing good for goodness' sake.

––Strickland was an idealist ––Noel responded––. This new system will take into account human nature.

––Certainly, Mr Underwood ––one of the men said––. But I doubt that paying people to be good will better their human nature.


––Wake up! Please wake up! My love, please, you need to wake up! You still haven't found me. I can't keep going on in this life if you're not here anymore! Please, wake up! If you love me, wake up!


Will's eyes shot open. That last part wasn't in sync with the previous dream, this was different. It was like someone screaming in his ear. Like… like… is that smoke?

We rushed out of bed to notice that there was a bright orange light lighting up the left side of the hallway, the one opposite to the stairway out. Oh my god!

––Will! Will! Please! Will! Where are you! Will! ––Will heard his mother's desperate and loud screams. ––Will!

––I'm here, mom! I'm coming down! Are you OK!

––We're OK! Will hurry! The house's on fire!

Will, thankfully, was able to get out of his and down the stairs without bumping into any direct flame. However, the smoke was now heavily lingering in the air, and the heat and light were causing his skin to lightly burn. He exited the house with this mother and grandmother just as a fire truck parked outside. Firefighters started to pump water and hose down the house, a bus also came with the firetrucks and paramedics were rushing to them, to check if they needed aidance.

––Will, oh my god! Are you OK? Are you hurt, did you burn? Oh my god!

––I'm OK, mom. I'm OK. And you?

––We're fine. Right, mom? Mom?

Marlena Evans was now staring wide-eyed at her house. Her orange and black toned house, now starting to glisten at the pours of water the firefighters were imposing on it.

––Looks like you're getting your wish, young man. You've done it.


Will threw his suitcase to the back of EJ DiMera's pick-up truck. It was very early in the morning, and the sun was high up above the mountains.

––Tommorow at nine ––a voice announced––. At the Apolo.

––What?

When Will turned around he saw Chad in the DiMera entrance, dressed in only a pair of boxers.

––I saw it on TV last night. At the Apolo, there will be some kind of music award. It's said that Sonny Kiriakis will be there.

Chad turned and walked inside.

––Don't leave, Chad… ––Will begged.

––Good luck in New York. ––he answered without turning back.

––Chad, I'm sorry. ––he pleaded––. I need your help, I can't do this without you.

––Too bad you didn't think about it before, and just shut you're stupid mouth. ––Chad banged the door shut, leaving Will at the edge of tears. The thing is that the day before, when Will got to the DiMera place for a nights sleep before going to New York, EJ and him started to talk about different stuff, until the subject of Chad, and Chad's education was brought up. Will let it slip that Chad didn't want to go to Vanderbilt, which pissed EJ off, since they had worked very hard to get the money for his education, this lead to a confrontation, shouts, screams, doors banged, TVs set at high volume, and a friend refusing to talk to Will for betraying their confidence.

Once EJ and Will were finally at the train station, Will gave EJ a long hug goodbye.

––Remember you'll always be able to count on us ––EJ said–– And don't worry about Chad. That boy is setting himself up for disappointment if he decides to stay here.

The arrival of the train cut their goodbye short. He was barely able to hold his tears down until he found his seat inside. Still with tears held in his eyes, the train began to move through the mountains. Will shut his eyes. No matter how hard it was to say goodbye to the DiMera's, he didn't have the slightest need to throw one last look at the town that never wanted him. Now, it was time to look for something else. Something new. Something that maybe, just maybe, he could call his own. Forever.