~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~

Episode 10: A Night to Remember!

"Hey, Dad, did James tell you that he's taking Mary to the prom tonight?" Laura smirked maliciously over her pancakes, thin legs dangling above the floor. Frank's brow went up upon hearing the news; he turned to James, dropping another steaming pancake onto his plate, and gave him a hearty grin.

"Is that so, Jim? I was wondering when you were going to make your move!"

"Yeah," James said quietly, smiling, as he poured syrup over his breakfast. "I rented out a tuxedo the other day—I was lucky to find one."

"I think I've taught you well," Frank said, sitting down and spreading a cloth over his lap. "Your old man was pretty popular among the ladies back in the day, believe it or not."

"You've told me before," James said, chuckling.

Laura giggled amidst chewing. "James and Mary, sitting in a tree—K-I-S-S-I-N-G," she sang through a mouthful of mush. "First comes—"

"Stop teasing your brother," Frank said playfully. "And chew with your mouth closed."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, munching forcefully. "I'm just saying."

"It's okay," James said. "I don't mind."

"When is it, anyway?" Frank asked.

"Eight, I think. We're going to meet up with Alex and Elle and then head out there."

"And what about Henry? Who's he going with?"

"He's—not going," James said after a moment. "Henry's not too interested in that sort of thing."

Frank sipped his coffee and pursed his lips from the bitterness. "Well, that's a shame. He's a good kid."

"Henry's a douchebag," Laura remarked.

"What was that?" Frank snapped at her. "What did you say?"

"I said Henry's a douchebag."

"Laura! Where did you hear that? Jim, did you tell her? Have you been cursing around her?"

"No, I haven't," James said meekly, glancing between them. "It's probably those kids at her school. When I was in elementary, there was a lot of cursing, too."

Frank turned to his daughter, wagging his finger in her face. "You know better than to use those words at home, little missy!"

"Yeah, yeah," Laura said, rolling her eyes and returning to her pancakes.

"Don't you 'yeah, yeah' me!" Frank exclaimed.

James sat silently, listening to them, his mind wandering. He thought about Mary.

Police tape lined the block, barring entrance to the side of the apartment complex where Andrew DeSalvo lived. Henry stood on the curb, regarding the apartments. The same kids were playing basketball in the square, and beyond the building, thunder rolled.

"Rain, again," Henry mumbled to himself. He looked down at the red page crushed in his fist. "Sullivan got him. James was right—we could've saved him."

"Why didn't you?" Velasquez asked, leaning against a lamppost behind him. She was bleeding out onto the sidewalk, her hair down, her wounds open.

"I can't stop Sullivan," Henry said, turning back to her. "There are three people left, and I have no idea who he's going after next."

"That's why you're going back, right?" she inquired. "Back to that apartment?"

"Room 302," he said, nodding. "There's something I'm missing—there has to be. Schreiber must have figured out how to stop that son of a bitch."

"How do you know?"

"Well, it's really just wishful thinking," he told her. "But I've got to try. If I let Sullivan get what he wants, then I'm just a fucking failure. My pride won't let me give up now."

"He'll kill you, Henry."

"Probably—but I can bring him down with me." He flashed Velasquez a wry grin. "If worst comes to worst, I'll have to spend an eternity in Hell with Jasper."

She smiled sadly, sighing. "You don't want to be here, Henry," she said, and then she was gone.

Heather stepped off the stairs into the den, slipping her jacket on. Harry, who was busy washing the dishes, glanced at her over his shoulder. "Oh, you're up. You, uh, missed breakfast."

"Yeah," she said simply, rubbing her eyes. "I slept in a little. No big deal."

"Heather—"

"I'm going to Eileen's for a bit. I'll be back later."

Quickly she walked out the door, leaving before Harry could say anything else. He watched her cross the street from the window, sighed, and continued scrubbing down the glass in his hands.

On the opposite curb, Selina emerged from Heather's pocket. "Princess," she said, flying about the girl's head, "don't you think you're being harsh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," replied Heather curtly. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"He must be hurting—"

"You don't know what you're talking about, either," Heather snapped at her, stopping. The fairy averted her gaze, hurt, and the girl softened. "Look—I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just kind of moody right now. I might be on my period, or something."

"Period?" Selina asked. "What's that?"

"Well, y'see—" Heather shook her head and waved it off, smiling. "Eh, never mind. It's not a big deal." She turned her head to the air and wrinkled her nose. "I smell rain. We should get going."

They continued and soon arrived at Eileen's house, just barely missing the downpour as they hurried onto the porch. Heather tousled her damp hair and rang the doorbell, smiling at Eileen as she appeared in the doorway. "Hey, bitch. Mind letting us in?"

"Only if you brought the lube," Eileen said, sticking her tongue out, and stood aside so Heather and Selina could enter.

"So, why'd you want me to come?" Heather asked, darting into the kitchen and rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Hey, chill," Eileen told her, leaning against the table. "We ran out of chocolate milk."

"You're kidding me," Heather despaired.

Eileen giggled. "I don't know why you don't just buy some when you go out."

"That would violate the first rule of BFF's," Heather said, spinning around to her. "We're supposed to leech off each other, Eileen. Come on—it's basic knowledge."

"Speak for yourself," the other girl replied. "I've never leeched off you guys."

"BS! 'Mr. Mason, can I stay for dinner?' 'Mr. Mason, do you mind if I take all those cookies you baked?' 'Mr. Mason, do you mind—'"

"Okay, okay," Eileen said. "Maybe I do leech a little." She plopped down into a chair and sighed. "Anyway, the reason I called you was 'cause I need you to do me a favor."

"What?"

"You have to come to the prom."

Heather glanced at Eileen, blinking, and then burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" demanded the other girl, her brow furrowed.

"Eileen—I don't even have a dress," Heather said, sitting down across from her, peeling open a yogurt. "You know I hate these things, and, besides, why ask me on the same day?"

"Well, you know—I'd just feel more comfortable," Eileen said. "It'd be nice to know you were there. And you don't need a dress, you know."

"That's true." Heather slid a spoonful of key-lime mush into her mouth. "But it's too late to get a ticket," she said through the slosh.

"I bought you one," Eileen said, smiling. "I got it when I got mine."

At this, Heather slammed a fist on the table. "So that slob Dumbrowski didn't even buy you one? God, that guy is worthless."

"It's just for tonight," Eileen told her. "After that, he should leave me alone."

"Like hell he will," Heather said. "He'll just keep following you around, trying to sex you up! Slugs like that are just slimy and gross—ugh, it makes me sick. I mean, come on—you should know more than anyone what he wants! What if he tries to drug you? What if—"

"Calm down, slut," Eileen said, raising her hands. "That's why I'm asking you to go. You know, to keep an eye out."

"Oh." Heather relaxed and licked her spoon. "Well, why didn't you just tell me that before? Of course I'll go!"

Eileen laughed. "Great," she said. "Claudia should be there, too."

"I'd be surprised if Big Wolf even let her out of the house," Heather responded. "But I guess if he has to be there, she might."

Selina perched atop Heather's shoulder. "What exactly is this 'prom' everyone's been talking about?" she asked.

"It's just a big bunch of bullshit," Heather said with a smirk. "Normally, we wouldn't go—but this time, I'm on a mission."

"Yep."

Heather sunk into her chair, dragging her spoon across her lips. "But we've still got, like, twenty hours before the shit even starts. How about we go pull the covers up and snuggle?"

"Sure," Eileen said.

"My boy, you look fantastic," Frank said, admiring his son in the dull light of the kitchen. Outside, the sky had grown dark, the last slivers of sunlight receding below the horizon. James stood, appraising his tuxedo.

"You think so?" he asked. "It fits okay?"

"It fits fine!" Frank exclaimed, slapping him on the back. "You remind me of myself when I was your age—ah, I remember those days well. Would you believe that it was at my prom that I actually met your mother? We both had our own dates, but the minutes our eyes met—"

"Dad, you've already told us, like, a thousand times," Laura said from the table, gulping down her macaroni and cheese.

"Hush!" Frank lashed at her, throwing his finger in her direction. "Let me celebrate this moment with your brother! Now, as I was saying—"

There was a knock at the door, and the three Sunderlands turned to the kitchen. "Is that your friends?" asked Frank.

"Let me see," James said and opened the door, surprised to see Henry on the other side. The boy grinned, wet from the previous rain.

"Hey," he said, eyeing James' attire and the corsage. "Don't we look just look so spiffy?"

"What are you doing here, Henry?" James inquired sternly. "Is something wrong?"

"Nah," Henry said, looking past him and waving at Frank. "I just thought I'd drop by and give you my blessings. My little Jamesy's growing up, you know."

"Henry—"

Frank interrupted his son, appearing behind him. "Henry, my boy!" he exclaimed. "Have you come to see James off, too?"

"Yes, sir," Henry replied, smirking. "I can't tag along, though. I've got some stuff to take care of."

"That's too bad," Frank said. "I'm sure you would have had fun."

"I don't doubt it."

"Dad!" Laura cried from the dining table, disturbing them. Frank glanced back at her and sighed.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it," he said. "You have a good night, Henry."

He nodded. "I will, sir."

Frank returned inside, and James turned back to his friend. "So, are you going to tell me what's going on or not? Henry?"

"Nothing's going on," Henry said. "What, I can't visit my best friend?"

"Not when you don't have a reason, no."

"Harsh." Henry shrugged. "Well, okay. I'm going back to the apartment right now—see if I can find anything else."

"We turned that place inside-out," James said. "There wasn't anything in there."

"It's still worth a shot. I can't give up yet."

James narrowed his eyes. "Henry, I'll go with you—"

"No, you won't," Henry said. "You go to the dance with Mary and make a move, for a change. I'll take care of this shit on my own."

James sighed and shook his head. "If you say so. Just—be careful. I don't want to be worrying about you the whole time."

"I'll be fine." Henry drew a breath, looked James in the eyes, and suddenly embraced him. Surprised, James could say nothing as he pulled away. "Go lose that goddamn virginity while you're at it. I'll tell that asshole Braintree you said 'hi.'"

And he walked off.

"This is like waiting for your execution," Heather said, standing alongside Eileen outside the Happy Burger, where some other students were waiting in their tuxedos and dresses. Under the saturated, bright lights radiating in the night, Eileen looked stunning.

"You actually look sort of not bad," Heather said, grinning. Eileen blushed and averted her gaze.

"You think?"

"Yeah. I should have underdone it just to get back at that dickbag."

Eileen smiled softly and looked down at her purple dress beneath her jacket. "These heels suck, though," she said, frowning at them. "I'd rather wear some slippers."

"Well, tonight we'll just have to play along. No feminism tonight, no sir!"

"Yeah, I know."

After a few more minutes of chatting, a long, white limousine pulled up to the curb, flower petals flying from the wheels. "What the hell?" Heather blurted, raising her brow as the door opened and Eddie Dombrowski emerged, dressed in a similarly white tuxedo. His grimy hair was slicked back, and he flashed the girls a toothy, malicious leer.

"Eileen, my dear," he called, approaching her, "your carriage awaits."

"You're shitting me," Heather said. "Let me guess—you're the only one in there, aren't you?"

"Ah. Mason." Eddie's smirk fell. "What an unexpected surprise. Will you be joining us this fine evening?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Sorry. I'll be at the dance, though."

"Oh, is that so?" Eddie asked, chuckling. "I'm surprised a brute such as yourself would be interested in such a thing."

"Oh, believe me, I'm not," she replied. "I'm only going to make sure you keep your oozy hands off my friend."

Eddie reared back, his mouth agape. "Mason! I'm shocked! Do you really think I'd be so perverse? My intentions are pure, I assure you. And, for your information, I am not riding alone tonight—a great many of my friends are with me."

"Yeah, right," Heather remarked. "As if you have friends."

"It's a ceremonious practice you could never understand," he said, looking away from her to Eileen. "Now, milady—I can't imagine why you spend so much time with this primate."

"I'm, uh, interested in the behavior," Eileen said quietly, receiving a grim glare from Heather.

"I see, I see." Eddie smiled and produced a vibrant red rose from within his sleeve. "I decided I would opt for something a little more tasteful—and for you, of course, I'd give anything."

"Well," Eileen said, taking the flower, "it's—um—very pretty?"

"I'm glad you think so," he said, bowing. "Now, may we depart?" She nodded and he took her hand, sending chills down her spine. Heather watched with disgust as her friend was led to the limousine.

"I suppose I'll be seeing you, then, Mason," Eddie told her once they had reached the car. "It'd be too much to ask that you—oh—glamour yourself up, correct?" He laughed, shoving an uneasy Eileen inside, and then entered himself.

Selina poked her head out of Heather's pocket, gagging. "That boy stinks."

"No shit," Heather said. "Let's go."

"Well, here we are," Alex said, pulling into the driveway of Mary's house. He turned to James in the backseat. "Treat her easy, cowboy. She's my cousin."

"Of course," James said, exchanging glances with Alex and Elle, who sat in the passenger's seat. "Let me go get her."

He exited the car and trekked up the walkway to the front door, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. He quickly knocked on the door, fixing a smile, but after a protracted pause, no answer came. He knocked again, and again.

Elle and Alex looked out, concerned, but James smiled at them. "I'm sure it's okay," he mouthed to them, when suddenly the door did open, but it was Maria who greeted him, ragged and without makeup.

"Maria," James said, surprised. He tried his hardest to muster a courteous smile. "How are you?"

"Let me guess," she said quietly, "you're here to pick up Mary, right?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Is she here?"

Maria snorted. "Did you know, James, that not one person asked me to go?" she said, ignoring his query. "Not one person. None of my friends have even talked to me in the last couple of days—not since Cynthia died."

James stared at her, unmoved. "Maria—"

"It's not fair," she hissed, her voice breaking. "Why is it always her? Why does she get to have everything? I'm the one always left with nothing, you know that? Why does it have to be her?"

"Maria—"

"Why her?" she went on, tears running down her cheeks. "What does she have that I don't? Why did you look at her and not me? We're twins, James—we're goddamn twins. We're the same!"

James hardened, his expression dark. "Maria," he said, "where is she? Where is Mary?"

"Mary?" she said, cracking. "Mary's not here, James. It looks like you're out of luck."

"She's not here?" James dropped the corsage and took Maria by the shoulders. "Where is she, Maria? Where is she?"

"Just forget it," she said, pushing him away. "She's not here, and she can't go with you. And you know what? She deserves it—the bitch deserves all of it! And so do you, James! For ignoring me, for shitting all over me—you're getting punished! The both of you can just fucking die—"

James slapped her hard across the face, driving her to her knees. Alex and Elle left the car, stunned, watching the scene in apprehension. James glared down at the broken girl, his hand balling into a fist. "I'm sorry, Maria," he said, "but you and Mary aren't the same at all. You might look the same—but you could never be anything like her." He picked up the corsage from the ground and dusted it off. "I was always nice to you—I always gave you the benefit of the doubt. But Henry's been right about you all along, and, really, I just don't care anymore. I don't even pity you."

He turned and walked off back to the car, leaving her to cry in her dishevelment. Alex confronted him, stern-faced. "James—James, what was that? Where's Mary?"

He shrugged halfheartedly. "She's not here," he said simply. "I—I honestly don't know—but she's not here."

"James—"

He gave them a weak, broken smile and climbed into the backseat.

Heather entered Ashfield High's gymnasium among the crowd, besieged by the colored lights and streamers twirling through the air, the music blasting throughout the room, and the incessant talking permeating it all. She whistled, looking around at all the decorations. Against the far wall, the DJ monitored the speaker system, spinning tracks and delivering tunes. The dance floor was crammed with students and their dates, and the bleachers were filled.

"How many tax dollars did they waste on this shindig?" she wondered aloud, laughing to herself, when a girl jumped up to her.

"Heather!" she greeted, dressed in a shimmering, frilled blue dress, her blonde hair braided beautifully. Heather furrowed her brow at the girl, unsure, and then gasped.

"Claudia?"

"Yes!" she laughed. "How do I look? Father let me pick out my own dress, and he even let me come with a date! Isn't it incredible?"

"Yeah," Heather said, stunned, "yeah, it is. Jesus, I almost didn't recognize you without your glasses—and your dress—and you said you came with a date?"

"That's right. You know Rocky Santos from biology class, right?"

"Rocky? Holy shit."

"It's amazing!" Claudia giggled. "What about you? Did you come with anyone?"

"No, actually," Heather replied. "I'm looking for Eileen. Have you seen her around?"

Claudia nodded and pointed off into the gym. "Yes. She was with another group, and I know they went to one of the tables."

Heather followed her finger and smiled. "Oh, okay. Thanks."

"She really did come with Eddie Dombrowski?"

"Yeah," Heather groaned. "Believe me, I tried to talk her out of it. Anyway, I better go find—"

"So, I presume this is the infamous Heather Mason?"

Both girls turned to the tall, broad-shouldered man standing beside them, wearing a beige coat and black slacks. Leonard Wolf extended his hand to the girl.

"Principal," Heather said, shaking his hand, "hello."

He smiled. "No reason to feel uncomfortable," he said. "You should be enjoying yourself. I was only curious to meet you—Claudia speaks very highly of you, after all."

Heather shrugged meekly. "Eh, well, you know, I'm not all that special."

"Oh, I very much doubt that, Ms. Mason," he said, his eyes glinting. "We're all unique in our own ways, and I'm glad my daughter was able to make such a fine friend."

"Well, I'm glad I can be there," she said. "Anyway, um, if you'll excuse me, sir, I need to go find someone."

"Ah, of course," he said, gesturing aside. "Don't let me keep you." She smiled a final time and headed off in search of Eileen, while Leonard turned back to his daughter. "The same goes for you, Claudia. Enjoy yourself."

"Yes. Thank you, Father." She left back to the dance floor, and he watched her go, his brow cocking.

"So—that was Princess Heart? How interesting."

"Don't you have something better to do tonight?" Richard Braintree asked, fiddling with his key ring outside room 302 of South Ashfield Heights. Henry smirked arrogantly.

"Oh, you know, nothing better than getting high and having premarital sex and just ruining this fine society of ours."

Braintree glared at him, grinning, himself. "You must think you're pretty goddamn smart, don't you, kid? You think you've got it all figured out?"

Henry chuckled. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"It's that same attitude," Braintree growled. "It's that same damn attitude that just pisses me off. You think you're so funny, so smart—you think you're on top of the world. But one day it's just going to fall apart, you know that? You're going to realize what a loser you are—how much time you wasted being smart and not being smart."

"Listen," Henry said, "you just do what you've got to do—and I'll do what I've got to do. Okay? Just open the door."

"Listen, you piece of shit," Braintree spat at him, "no one gives me orders."

"Just stop fucking around and open the door!"

"Fine!" Braintree yelled, finding the key and jamming it into the lock. "You've got ten minutes. After that, I'm kicking your ass out of here."

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," Henry said. "Ten minutes. I'll be out before you know it."

"I sure hope so." Braintree opened the door and then stormed off, leaving Henry alone in the corridor. The boy quickly flicked him off before entering the room, his heart hammering in his chest, his palms suddenly sweaty.

"Fuck," he said, laughing. "I'm nervous. I'm fucking scared."

"There's nothing to be scared of," Velasquez said, sitting on the arm of a recliner across the room. Behind her, gentle, morning sunlight shone in through the windows.

Henry breathed in deeply, calming himself. "I know," he said, closing his eyes. "I just have to chill out—calm the fuck down." He fell onto the sofa and leaned back.

"Why'd you come here, Henry?" asked Velasquez, staring at him.

He looked to her, smiling. "I already told you. I'm going to stop Sullivan. After all, I'm the only one who can—no one else has got their shit together. Not even little Princess Heart."

"There's nothing here, Henry," she said. "There's nothing here to find."

"You're wrong." He stood up and faced her determinedly. "There has to be something here. Schreiber found something—he had to. If not, then what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"You don't have to do anything," Velasquez said, smiling at him. "You're not responsible for anything."

"Oh, no?" He scowled angrily. "I'm responsible for all of this! You, Jasper, DeSalvo—I could've saved all of you! But I didn't do anything! I'm the only person left who gives a rat's ass about any of this, and—fuck—I won't let this happen without a fight!"

"But why are you really doing it?" She stepped up to him, her bangs matted in sweat to her forehead, the numbers carved into her breast bleeding and red. "Why are you trying to save them?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he countered. "Should I just let it all happen? Should I just let them die?"

"You want to make it right," she said, "but all you really want to do is make yourself feel better. Isn't that right?"

"No!" he yelled. "That's not true—that's not fucking true! That's bullshit! I won't feel bad about myself—I can't—not when I've come this far! I let you die, I hurt Eileen, I bit off more than I could chew—and now—now I've got to do what I can to fix it."

"It doesn't matter if you want to or not," she said, placing a hand on his chest. "I don't want you to feel responsible, Henry. It wasn't your fault."

He gritted his teeth in frustration. "What do you want from me?" he seethed. "Do you want me to just leave? Do you want me to give up?" He slumped back into the sofa and buried his head in his hands. "Just what the fuck am I supposed to do? Why am I in this goddamn apartment? Tell me, Cynthia!"

She knelt down before him and caressed his cheek affectionately. "I can't," she said softly, and then the light beyond the windows grew stronger and more intense. Jasper stood behind her, his skin burnt and crackling; Andrew DeSalvo stood alongside him, his skin pale, his lips sullen and gray.

Henry stared up at them in frightened awe, trembling, and then that awe transformed into rage. "What do you want?" he shouted at them, standing. "Why are you all looking at me like that, goddamn it? What the fuck do you expect?" Furiously he threw the nearby lamp to the floor, shattering it. "You want me to make it all better? You want me to wipe your asses for you? What the fuck!"

He screamed and then collapsed onto the sofa, crying. He clutched at his unkempt hair, moaning loudly. "I can't do anything," he despaired. "I'm useless. I'm fucking useless!"

He felt Velasquez sit beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Henry," she cooed, "Henry, what do you really want? Why did you come here?"

"I—I don't know," he murmured, nestled against her bosom. "I just want things to be the way they were before. You know. I want it like it was."

"You can make it that way again, Henry," she whispered into his ear. "You can do it."

"Cynthia—"

She was gone. Jasper and DeSalvo were gone. Room 302 was dark and foreboding; candles were lit all throughout the room, all of them emanating an eerie, unearthly glow. Henry rose up from the sofa, his tears drying, to face the man standing in the center of the den. Bald, dressed in a suit, his hands clasped before him, the skin of which were covered in scribbles, the man gazed thoughtfully at the teenager. A faint smile touched his lips.

"Henry Townshend," he said. "The Receiver of Wisdom."

Henry formed a smirk of his own. "Joseph Schreiber. I've been meaning to talk with you, asshole."

Schreiber laughed. "You weren't chosen by accident," he said. "You have fulfilled your role admirably up until this point—but now you must perform one final task."

"Start making some sense," Henry shot at him. "What role? What the fuck do I have to do with this?"

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Schreiber asked. "You are the last of the '21 Sacraments,' Henry—the Receiver of Wisdom. It was your duty—your obligation—to come here and fulfill that role. I am responsible for imparting that wisdom upon you. Now we both must settle this affair. We can no longer turn away from this—no longer turn away from the truth."

"You mean to tell me," Henry said, chuckling, "that I'm the last one? I'm number 21?"

"Yes." Schreiber nodded. "Even now Walter is preparing to kill not only you but the other two. He has successfully separated himself from the mortal world, and so he cannot be stopped by mortal means. He has become a perfect enforcer for them."

"Them?"

"The Order," answered Schreiber. "They are a secret, powerful group dedicated to the black arts. They have operated for years, maybe centuries, developing their schemes and plans—and now is the time for them to make their move. They have turned an otherwise good-willed man into a monster. Walter is now their puppet, devoid of logic or reason. All he knows is this mission. He will complete the ritual."

"Why?" Henry asked. "What's the point? Why are they having him kill us?"

"To facilitate the birth of their god," Schreiber said simply.

"Their god?"

"They need a maiden capable of becoming Her vessel. By completing the '21 Sacraments,' Walter will cleanse and purify the maiden. And once you are killed, She will descend upon the world."

Henry cocked his brow. "You expect me to believe that? Sounds like a bunch of bullshit."

"It's the truth." Schreiber sighed. "I tried to stop them, and by extension, him, as well—but I failed. It was not my role. It is you—you and the children of your generation that can change this."

"Look," Henry said, stepping forward, "I don't give a flying fuck about gods or any voodoo cock-shit. But I will stop Sullivan. Whether I die or not, I'm bringing him down. I won't let you or anyone else die for some crackpot's pipedream."

"He cannot be killed," Schreiber said, "so long as his mortal body remains intact. In order to stop the monster he has become, you must destroy what is left of his flesh." He moved aside and gestured down the hall to the far wall, where a pickaxe was lodged into the plaster.

"I tried to find it, but they had already destroyed most of his body by the time I reached his grave. There is only piece left, something I discovered and hid away. You will find it, and the rest of your answers, behind that wall."

Henry walked past him and took hold of the pickaxe before hefting it out of the wall. He gripped it tightly and raised it. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Destroy his flesh in his presence," said Schreiber. "Allow him to rest in peace."

"Why can't I just kill him now?" Henry groaned, looking back. "Sounds like a load of—"

Schreiber was gone, as were the candles littering the apartment. Everything had righted itself. Henry blinked and glanced down to find the pickaxe still in his hands, the weight of it as real as anything he had ever held.

"Well, fuck it," he said and drove the pickaxe into the wall. He pulled it out and swung again, puffs of dust billowing around him. With one final strike a sizeable chunk of the wall crumbled, allowing for entry. Henry dropped the pickaxe and ducked through, coughing and wheezing at the powerful stench hanging in the air. He covered his mouth, eyeing the shelves of medicine bottles and chemicals warily.

He approached a crooked table, where splayed out atop it were a small box and a red, leather-bound book. Henry picked up the box, disgusted at the odor rising from it, and opened it up, shocked to find a shriveled, pale heart resting on paper.

"Holy fuck," Henry breathed, dropping it back onto the table. Lying off to the side was a rusted dagger. He picked it up as well, testing its weight, and then looked over to the book. It was opened to a single entry.

August 33rd. the last 2 are 20 and 21 the MOTHER is EiLEEn Galvin, aGe 17

the last is HENRY TOWNSHEND the RECEIVER OF WISDOM THE FINAL

SIGN

in order to kill you must kill kill kill kill kill

KILL HIM BY SEPARATING THE BODY AND THE SOUL THE MIND AND

THE FLESH

if YOU ARE READING this you are the RECEIVER

You are the last one.

Henry read and reread the entry, his grip on the dagger tightening. Eileen. Eileen Galvin. The girl he had hurt. Suddenly, it was clear to him. He knew what he had to do.

"Damn kid," Braintree grumbled, flushing the toilet and zipping up his trousers. "Thinks he's some hot shit, doesn't he?" He ran the water and washed his hands, roughly scrubbing them in the scalding water.

"I don't need to take his shit," he said, looking up at himself in the mirror and smoothing out his hair. He grinned and placed his hands under the warm air of the electric dryer. "I think it's been about ten minutes," he lilted to himself, chuckling. "Better go check on the little—"

He turned and came face-to-face with a colossus of a man, draped in a long, dark raincoat. "Who the hell—" Braintree was thrown back against the sink, the sheer force of the blow knocking his head back into the mirror.

"Son of a bitch!" He fell to his knees and reached behind his head, gingerly touching the wound and the blood seeping out. "You punk," he muttered, rising and reaching behind his back. "You little fucking punk. You think you can just waltz in here like you own the place—you think you can just push me around like I'm some nobody?"

He produced a revolver and thrust it in the man's direction. "Well, let me make it crystal clear to you, you little shit—I'm Richard Braintree! No one pushes me around! I did not get to where I am by having you fucks trample all over me! You think you can just do whatever you want? You think you actually got some credibility in all this? The truth is, you don't have anything! You don't deserve anything! I had to earn it all! We all had to earn it! And you have just the made the single most stupid mistake of your little, shit-stain life."

He thumbed the revolver. Walter Sullivan opened his mouth and spoke. "Chaos."

Henry had heard the ensuing gunshot while descending the stairs towards the second floor, and he quickly rushed towards it source, the dagger in one hand, the box containing the heart in the other. Another series of gunshots sounded while he was on the lobby, and then a scream followed. He made it down to the lobby, where an uncanny silence reigned.

"Shit," he mumbled, seeing the restroom door open, the lights bright within. He approached, suddenly stricken by the sight of Braintree's body, bloody and beaten, lying on the tile. The mirror was shattered, shards of the glass embedded in the man's face. A series of numbers had been carved into his forehead: "19121."

"Fuck!" howled Henry, slamming the hilt of the dagger against the doorway. Without another thought, he hurried out of the building and into the night.

"There you are!" Heather exclaimed, finding Eileen sitting at a table alone, nursing a cup of punch. Eileen looked up to her, delighted.

"You came!"

"Well, I told you I would," Heather said, sitting down and grabbing a roll from one of the plates. "So I guess Dumbrowski's stinking it up somewhere else?"

"He's out there with some of his friends," Eileen said, nodding off towards the dance floor. "I'm kind of glad. Still—if I'm here, I wish I could be a little less miserable."

"Hey, well, we can dance," said Heather, standing and shaking her hips. Eileen giggled at the display but shook her head. "I'm serious!" Heather pouted and sat down. Selina flew up onto the table.

"So this is the 'prom,'" she said, looking around in wonder at the gymnasium. "Why is it so noisy?"

"We can't hear you," Eileen joked, receiving a glare from the fairy. The girl sighed and looked around, catching sight of James at another table, conversing with Alex and Elle.

"Hey—isn't that guy Henry's friend? James, or whatever?"

"Eileen, we are not talking about Henry Townshend anymore, 'kay? Seriously."

"Heather!"

"Okay, okay." She nodded, glancing towards James. "Yeah, that's James Sunderland. Why, you want to talk or—"

Eileen was already heading over to the table, Selina trailing behind her. Heather groaned, rolled her eyes, and followed them.

"We can all dance together, James," Alex said, sitting with Elle across from him. "I mean, we're here, right?"

"He's right," Elle said. "I don't think Mary would want you moping around."

"I'm okay," James told them, putting on a smile. "Really, don't worry about it. I'm having fun."

"You don't look like it," she replied, glimpsing to the side and noticing the girls approaching them. "Hey, isn't that—"

"Um, you're James, right?" Eileen asked, stepping up to the table. "Henry's friend?"

James stared at her, momentarily surprised, and then nodded. "Yeah—and you're Eileen? Heather?"

"Yeah," said the other girl, nudging Eileen aside. "And where is Townshend, anyway? Screwing over more girls?"

"Hey," Alex reproached, narrowing his eyes at her. "How dare you say something like that."

"How dare I?" Heather responded. "It's the truth! He broke her heart, and now she has to waste one of the most memorable nights of her life with that dick Dumbrowski."

"Okay, stop," James said, holding up his hands. "Please, just let it go. Henry didn't want to do it—but he's not the most considerate type of guy. He's stubborn and pigheaded and sometimes he crosses the line, but what he did he did because, in his mind, he had to."

"I know that," Eileen said, sitting down. "Do you know where he is?"

"I—"

"Sunderland!" Eddie laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you trying to steal my date?"

"Eileen's not your date," Heather said, scowling at him. "She's not your property."

"Mason, Mason," Eddie chided, "did I ever say she was? Eileen's here because she decided to come. No one forced her to."

"That's—" Heather fell silent, fuming. "She never would've come if you hadn't pulled her arm."

"What are they talking about, Eddie?" Alex asked. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing," Eddie said, pulling Eileen up by the arm. "I've had enough of all your self-righteous crap. Come on, we're going to dance—"

"No!" Heather cried, standing. "I'm the one's who's had enough of you! You have no right to expect us to play your stupid games! You're not going to force Eileen to do anything else!"

"Heather, stop," Eileen murmured. "Don't do anything stupid."

"She's right, Mason," Eddie said. "Don't do anything stupid—as if you could do anything else, anyway. You're just a monkey. You're the one who has no right even speaking to me."

"If I'm a monkey, then you're just a big, fat gorilla!" Heather cracked at him.

"You little bitch!" Eddie exclaimed, pushing Eileen away, before erupting into laughter. "You won't drag me down to your level; I won't let it happen. You primates only solve things through violence. So, what are you going to do? Hit me?"

"She's not," Eileen said, "but I am!" She socked him right across the face, catching his nose and driving him to the floor. All the others looked on in surprise. Eddie propped himself up on his elbows and touched his face, tracing the trail of blood from his nose.

"You—you—bitch," he breathed, furious. "I'm—I'm bleeding! I'm bleeding!" He scrambled to his feet, throwing vicious glances at every one of them. "You'll—you'll pay for this! I swear you will!"

He ran off and out of the gym. James drew a content breath. "So much for karmic retribution," he mumbled to himself.

"What the hell, Eileen!" Heather cried happily, hugging her. "That was awesome! You finally grew a spine!"

"I just got tired of him calling you an ape," Eileen said. "I couldn't stand it anymore."

"Eileen," Heather said, looking into her eyes, "for all your feminist BS, we really need to work on your self-esteem."

"Well, I don't really know what just happened," Alex said, "but I figure the problem's taken care of?"

"Not exactly," Heather replied, turning to him. "I've still got to settle things with Townshend. Now—"

A scream from the other end of the gym caught their attention. The group turned to see the crowds of students scattering, revealing a tall, dark figure slowly making its way towards them. More screams ran through the throngs, the panic spreading. Heather tensed, her words caught in her throat. Selina appeared on her shoulder, trembling.

"Princess—"

] "I feel it," Heather whispered. "It's—it's definitely a demon. But—it's so strong—it's nothing like the other ones."

Alex stood and gasped upon glimpsing the familiar, navy coat and hood. "It's him," he said frightfully.

"Alex?" Elle said, looking to him. "What's going on? Who is that?"

"That's the guy Henry and I met," he said. "That's the guy who killed Velasquez!"

"It can't be!" James cried. "That's Sullivan?"

"Elle, you've got to get out of here," Alex said, turning to her. "Get out while you can. James, take her and the other girls."

"Wait!" exclaimed James. "He's only after one person—I don't think he'll go after anyone else!"

"And who is he after?" Alex argued. "You all have got to get out of here now!"

"But what about you?" Elle demanded. "You have to come with us!"

Alex shook his head. "No," he said. "I have to try and hold him off. I can't stop him, but I might be able to buy some time—"

"No, you get out of here, too," Heather said calmly, stepping in front of the group to face the oncoming specter. "I'll handle this."

"Are you crazy?" Alex yelled. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm the only one who can do it," she said, removing the pocket mirror from her jeans. Eileen touched her arm.

"Heather—"

"You get out of here, Eileen," she said. "I'll be fine." She furrowed her brow at the man, who stopped in the center of the gym, his gaze fixed on the group. The rest of the students and faculty ran off, and some of his handiwork was apparent: several students lay incapacitated throughout the room.

"He is only coming for one person," Heather said, holding up the pocket mirror and watching him raise his arm and point, not at her—but at Eileen.

"Mother," he said quietly.

"He's after her," James gasped. "Eileen! He's after Eileen!"

"Not if I can help it!" Heather cried, brandishing the accessory, pink light enveloping her. "Heart power!"

The light faded, leaving Princess Heart standing to intercept Sullivan. Cries sounded from the scattered students.

"It's her!"

"Princess Heart!"

"She's here to save us!"

"No way," Elle said, standing at Alex's side. "She's Princess Heart!"

Witnessing the event, James could only shake his head in disbelief. "Damn it, Henry—you better get here quick."

"All of you, get Eileen out of here!" Heather shouted before launching herself at the man, poised to strike—her fist swung into his jaw, connecting, but he simply stood upright after the blow, unimpeded.

"What the—" He took her by the throat and sent her flying back into the far wall, where she crashed and then collapsed to the floor. Quickly she got to her feet, rubbing her neck gingerly. "That didn't even faze him," she coughed. "Just what is this guy? Is he human—or is he a demon?"

"Heather!" Eileen cried, ready to hurry over to her, when James took her hand.

"We've got to go!" he yelled, pulling her along, when suddenly Sullivan appeared before them, hands outstretched.

"Mother," he repeated, his lips quivering a distorted smile. Eileen screamed in horror.

"Get down!" Heather screamed, and James threw himself and Eileen to the floor. Twin yellow lasers shot forth and engulfed Sullivan's face, nearly blasting him back. However, he stood firm, enduring the attack, his body lurching forward, the hood of his coat decimated. He looked up, his face scorched and burnt, the skin regenerating.

"That's no fair!" whined Heather. Meanwhile, James and Eileen were on their feet, hurrying away. Sullivan made to give chase, but suddenly Alex hurtled himself into the man, disrupting him. Quickly Sullivan grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and flung him away, but it was enough time for Heather to summon her dual pipes.

"Chew on this, bitch!" she screamed, flailing whips of light at him. They coiled around Sullivan's arms, binding him, but as soon as they made contact, shadowy darkness manifested around his body, writhing and malevolent. He flexed his arms and the whips shattered into fragments of light, as did the pipes.

"No way," Heather said, stunned, as Sullivan approached her. She stood her ground, worried. "This isn't good," she mumbled to Selina, who emerged from under the coils of the girl's hair.

"I don't understand it," the fairy said. "Princess Heart's power should be fatal to the demons—it makes no sense!"

"Well, unless this guy isn't a demon," Heather said, "but a human shouldn't be able to have this sort of power—right?"

Sullivan raised a hand, loosening his fingers, and suddenly a powerful, invisible blast knocked Heather off her feet, tearing up the wood beneath her. She recovered quickly, just as Sullivan had turned his sights once again on Eileen and James.

"This guy just won't stop," he said, pushing Eileen behind him.

Heather rose, the Heart Rod manifesting in her hand. "I don't know who you are, bud, but you're not going to win!" She rushed at him, uttering a loud battle cry, prepared to attack. Sullivan merely turned to her, the sheer force of power erupting from him enough to send her flying away. James and Eileen toppled over, entangled between each other, helpless as Sullivan descended upon them.

"Mother," he whispered gleefully. "Mother—mother!"

He stopped. His face contorted into an expression of pure agony, and he crumpled to his knees, clutching at his chest. He gagged and retched, shaking violently. They all watched, amazed, as black flames enveloped his body, burning away at his clothing and skin. He moaned, soon screaming.

His real, beating heart sat in its box, penetrated by the old, rusted dagger. Blood oozed out, black and vile. Henry dug the blade in deeper, his hands trembling with hate, and then he jerked the dagger out. Blood shot out like a geyser, and then the heart fell still. A final plume of dark fire lashed out, dying, and then Sullivan was nothing more than ash.

The heart simmered and began to dissolve into black acid, eating away at the wooden box; Henry dumped it unceremoniously onto the pile of ash, his expression steely as it also burnt and vanished.

"It's over," he declared quietly. "Rest in peace, fucker."

Slowly, tentatively, Heather and the others rose. James and Eileen, initially awestruck, broke out into smiles. "Henry!" she cried joyously, latching onto him in a tight embrace.

"Hey, what the fuck?" he blurted, pulling her off. "What the hell?"

"Oh, uh—sorry." She blushed and turned away, embarrassed, as James approached his friend.

"So I guess you did end up finding something, huh?" he asked.

"You can say that again," Henry said, sighing. He glanced over to Heather. "I'll explain the whole thing later. First, I've got to talk with little miss Princess Heart."

Alex and Elle joined them, similarly dumbfounded, and Heather placed her hands on her hips and cleared her throat. "Well," she said gallantly, "the day is saved once again by Princess Heart!" She made a quick peace sign and then tried to run off, but Henry called out to her.

"Not so fast, Mason! Stay right where you are!"

She groaned and turned back around, frowning. "Yeah, what do you want?" she demanded.

"Enough of the bullshit," he said. "No more lies. I want the truth."

"You can't handle the truth," she spat.

"I just saved your ass," he replied. "I think I earned the fucking right."

"Stay away from the princess!" Selina cried, flying about his head and poking at his face. "She doesn't have to tell you anything!"

"What the fuck is this?" Henry growled in annoyance. "Some kind of gnat?"

"For your information, I am a fairy!" she exclaimed. "I am one of the servants of the most honorable Fairy Quee—"

"Yeah, whatever, Navi," Henry said, swatting her aside and pointing a finger at Heather. "Like I said, enough of the bullshit. Now tell me the truth!"

She grimaced at him, angry. "Screw you. Do you realize how much trouble you've caused for me and Eileen? I don't need to tell you anything!"

"Heather, it's okay."

Both Henry and Heather turned to Eileen, who smiled serenely at them. "It's okay. We can trust him."

"Eileen—"

"She really is Princess Heart, Henry," she told him. "Heather's been fighting all this time to protect us, you know. The least you can do is thank her."

"Yeah!" Heather agreed, folding her arms.

Henry clicked his tongue and folded his own arms across his chest. "Well, while you were dicking around, people like Jasper and Cynthia died. There—"

"All of you, just stop," James said, standing between them. "Enough. It's over. What's done is done."

"Would someone mind explaining what's going on here?" Elle cried. "What the hell's happening?"

A laugh caught them off-guard. "I'd be happy to explain."

They all turned to find Leonard Wolf standing at the other end of the gym, smirking smugly. He removed his hands from his coat pockets and briefly applauded. "I must admit, you all have surprised me. To think that you'd be able to stop the Conjurer—well, it's something we didn't foresee."

"Principal Wolf?" Heather uttered in surprise. "What are you—"

"You should know very well, Heather, just who I am," he said. "I am Leonard Wolf, and my sworn duty is to bring about Paradise. To do this, we, the Order, require a power paramount to that which created the world and all life. We need the Seal of Metatron."

"The Order?" she mumbled, shocked. "No—that can't be true! You—"

Henry thrust the dagger in his direction. "You son of a bitch," he hissed. "I don't care who you are, you're responsible for killing Cynthia and all the others! You're the ones who let Sullivan loose!"

"Yes, that's true," Leonard said. "Since he was a young boy, we conditioned Walter to abide by the word of God, to serve Her in every possible way. He was an ignorant child, all too eager to follow us wherever we lured him. Through this ritual, the '21 Sacraments,' we aspired to find a suitable vessel for God—in this case, the Mother Reborn."

"You mean Eileen," Henry said.

"The only ones capable are those of the bloodline of the fairies," Leonard went on. "You, Heather Mason, inherited the power of Princess Heart—and your dear friend here, Eileen Galvin—she is your sister."

"What?" Eileen and Heather both blurted in unison. They turned to each other, mouths agape. "But we look nothing alike!"

Leonard laughed heartily. "You are not sisters by blood, but by spirit. The two of you are daughters of the Fairy Queen, pure maidens who will make a fitting vessel for God!" He reached into his coat and produced a vial of black liquid.

"You won't get away with it," growled Henry. "I'll make sure all of you pay for everything!"

"Noble words, boy," Leonard said, dumping the vial onto the floor. "But tonight will be the end of you and your friends." The liquid spread, covering a great portion of the floor, consuming tables, chairs, and balloons alike.

"Everyone, stand back!" Heather commanded, witnessing the familiar pentacle form, this time massive. The black void writhed, and from its depths emerged a humongous, slick worm-like creature, its thick, cylindrical body covered in slime.

"A monster?" Henry cried.

"A demon!" Heather corrected, brandishing the Heart Rod. The beast landed before them, its front end opening into a gigantic maw, furnished with rows of pointed, glimmering teeth, and roared.

"All of you get out of here!" Heather yelled. "I'll take care of Mr. Slug here!"

"Behold the Split Worm," Leonard said. The others ran, distancing themselves as the monstrosity thrashed about, ravaging the gym. Heather sprang back, struggling to maintain her balance.

"Any ideas?" she asked Selina, who held onto her headband tightly.

"I've never seen anything like it!" the fairy responded. "I—I don't know what to do, to be honest."

"Well, we'll just have to think of something!" Heather jumped away again, avoiding another slam. She glanced back, relieved to see the others out of the gym. "At least I can distract it!" Her eyes glowed yellow, shimmering. "Heather beam!"

The lasers struck the Split Worm's hide, hardly scratching it, but the demon squirmed over to her, regardless. "That's right—follow me!" She bounded off out of the gym and into a hall, the Split Worm following and destroying whatever was in its path.

Henry ran alongside the others, glancing back at the carnage. "There has to be something we can do!" he shouted, but James shook his head.

"That thing's too big!" he replied. "We'd need—well, shit, we'd need TNT, or something!"

"That's the first time I've heard you curse in a while," Henry laughed. "I guess we really are fucked."

Heather ran, with each stride losing more and more ground. "This thing's wiping out the whole school!" she shouted, glancing back to see the Split Worm right behind her, sagging about and demolishing classrooms and hallways. "I've got to stop it here and now!"

She spun around, standing firm in the monster's path. "Princess?" Selina uttered fearfully, but Heather simply tightened her grip on the Heart Rod and raised it as if to bat a baseball. The Split Worm was suddenly upon her—she swung, unleashing an enormous, pink heart of love.

"Home run!"

The heart tore through straight through the beast and then exploded.

Henry, James, and the others collapsed outside in the parking lot, just barely escaping as the school exploded in glittering pink light. "Heather!" screamed Eileen, the light dissipating into the night.

"Did she do it?" Alex asked, holding Elle close.

"I hope to shit, yeah," Henry chuckled, trying to regain his breath. James stood beside him, the two staring onward as the smoke cleared and after several long minutes, Heather stumbled out of the wreckage of Ashfield High.

"Heather!" Eileen rushed to her friend, catching her in an embrace and crying.

"Don't squeeze so hard," Heather groaned, patting Eileen on the back. "I'm okay. Nothing a nice, relaxing bath can't fix—right?"

"So," Henry said, "you killed that thing?"

"Yeah, no need to thank me," she replied dryly, raising a cute worm keychain.

"Looks fucking retarded," he commented.

Heather grimaced, about to respond, when someone hailed them from what was left of the school.

"Impressive!" Leonard bellowed, his coat obliterated, his clothes singed and burnt and his skin ashen. "Now I understand this incredible power. I must have it!"

Heather stood before her newfound allies, Heart Rod in hand. "I don't want to fight anymore," she choked out, "but you—you people have gone too far this time!"

Leonard laughed and shattered a vial above his head, dousing himself in the black liquid. "Your rage is what makes you powerful, Heather Mason," he cackled, his body growing in size and melting, the skin becoming sick, yellow mush. "I will possess that power! I will have it!"

"I won't let you!" she screamed, running at him, the heart emblem on her uniform glowing brightly. A blinding, extravagant light surrounded her, leaving behind golden lining on her boots and gloves, and shining, translucent wings protruding from her back. Her headband and earmuffs transformed into a golden, jewel-encrusted tiara. The Heart Rod in her hand morphed into a staff, the giant jewel at its tip spinning, brightly radiating.

"Don't tell me," Henry said. "Princess Heart R?"

Leonard staggered forward, a giant of melting and burning skin, black liquid pouring from his body. "That power will be mine!"

"No, it won't!" cried Heather, raising her staff. "By the power of the heart and true love's light, I'm sending you back to hell!"

!中心力!

She swung the staff down, a colossal, bright comet of a heart racing out of it, shining a multitude of colors. Leonard was engulfed by the ferocious attack, and, for a single moment, the night turned to day, the sky and stars overpowered by the sheer light of love.

When it was all over, Heather collapsed, her uniform fading away. The pocket mirror clattered out of her hand and onto the asphalt. "Heather," Eileen said, reaching her and turning her over. "Hey, Heather—say something! Say something!"

"It's okay," James said breathlessly. "She's still breathing."

"You're—you're right," Eileen chirped happily, hugging her friend.

Henry watched her cry over the girl, and, strangely, his gaze was pulled upwards to the light of the morning, where Ashfield High was still standing, just as dignified as always. The birds were singing; the sun shone high in the sky. A group of people were crowded around the entrance, facing him, and he recognized several of their faces instantly: Jasper, DeSalvo, Braintree, and—

"Looks like you did it, tiger," Cynthia said, standing before him, smiling, no longer bleeding, no longer marked by those terrible numbers.

"It's not over yet," he said softly, meeting her gaze. "But—I guess it's a start."

"You'll be okay," she said, patting his cheek. "You've got all these friends."

"Yeah." He sniffled, his eyes watering. A tear ran down his cheek.

"Don't cry," she told him, wiping them away with her thumb. Her sad smile faltered. "Well, this is it. We've got to go."

"Cynthia—"

She kissed him. "Thanks, Henry," she said finally, moving back, and then they were all gone.

"Henry?"

He looked up, eyes watery, and saw James in front of him. "Henry, you all right?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding and wiping his eyes. "It's just these fucking allergies, you know." He cleared his throat, sighed, and then looked around. "Hey, by the way—where's Mary?"

Not too far off, hidden in the shadows, Claudia watched the group quickly leave, anxious to avoid any suspicion once the police arrived. Her dress was torn, her eyes bleary with tears, her hair frayed. She gripped the tree she was hiding behind fiercely, digging her fingernails into the bark. Princess Heart had killed her father.

END EPISODE 10

With the events of prom still fresh on their minds, Heather forms an uneasy alliance with Henry and his friends in an effort to discover more about the devious Order! Meanwhile, even in the wake of Leonard Wolf's death, the remaining members of the Order move along their terrible plans—and in the midst of all this, an enigmatic new figure appears, but is she friend or foe?

Next time on The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!

"Episode 11: The Mysterious Lady Heart Appears!"

Things are starting to heat up!

DISCLAIMER: Silent Hill and all related material are the property of its respective copyright holders

(A/N: Formatting removes the line breaks, so I apologize.)