A/N 11/18/10: I'm very sorry this chapter was so delayed by family and other issues. I was creatively blocked at one point. However, on the plus side, this chapter was originally more than 10,000 words long, but I've divided it in half. It seems that what I think is the stopping point for a chapter is always twice as far away as I thought. Chapter 26 only needs some finishing touches and proofreading before it goes up.

There are a lot of hallucinations in this chapter, since June is mentally ill. However, if June doesn't know what's real, I don't want readers to be confused. If it had been inconsistent before, from here on, all the hallucinations are in italics, as opposed to ghosts, whose dialog and actions are in normal text.

Chapter 25:

UNSCENTED

Before they left, Brigitte had them search the bodies, for keys. She took the bundle of them and ordered June to carry them. "Put them in your pockets, don't drop them, don't lose them, and don't give them to anyone." June knew she would obey despite her wishes.

As they walked to the ward, Brigitte boasted in gory detail of her kills from the night before. June stayed silently bewildered as Brigitte prattled on.

She finally asked, "How many people did you kill?"

Brigitte thought a moment. "Something like twenty, twenty-two. I didn't count."

"It's a war zone," said a voice.

"Oh, Brigitte!" June wanted to break down and cry on the spot. She knew this did not even include people Jason had killed outside.

This can't be happening. I've missed my medications. None of this is real!

"Yes, it's too real, Rose Petal, don't let yourself fail now," said the Captain's voice.

June felt awed at how strategic and systematic the massacre must have been. She had expected nothing near this level of shrewdness from a werewolf, she thought they were essentially powerful rabid animals. In hindsight, talking to Ginger should have given her a clearer indication of their intelligence but impressions left by movies and stories had been too strong.

"You'll admire me for it, soon," said Brigitte.

"Did you admire Ginger?"

"No, but she admires me. Hey, I forgot the best thing: I also stopped a rape!"

This confused June. Nothing Brigitte said until now suggested any morality to her actions, yet she now boasted about stopping a rape like it was the peak of a night where she reveled in slaughtering a score of innocent people.

"Did you eat the rapist?" June asked sarcastically, too perplexed to think of the more important questions to ask.

Laughing, Brigitte said, "Ewww. Me? No!"

Before June's thoughts could organize for another question, they had arrived. Brigitte only had to push the door open to the girl's ward. Instead, Brigitte grabbed her tightly around the arms, and started to lick her face. Brigitte's tongue was long and smooth, like a dog's. Repulsed, June struggled. Brigitte's scent being intoxicating, it both confused and aroused June as it had before.

How can a creature this ugly and weird have an erotic fragrance?

"Its pheromones must be close to human pheromones, but stronger and surging now." said the voice of Mr. Bunker, her biology teacher, promoted to council science adviser.

As June struggled, Brigitte pointed out she had a dirty face. "You're a mess. You should look better for the girls."

June realized with perplexed relief that Brigitte wasn't attacking her sexually but was cleaning her like her cub! It reduced her terror, but not her revulsion.

"No, Brigitte! Stop, please!" June cried.

"All right," growled Brigitte, releasing her with a shove, but no argument, to June's complete surprise and relief.

"It seems she respects you," said Mr. Bunker's voice, "after a fashion."

Brigitte herself wore blood from head to foot. June now knew that she must be aware of it and must be wearing it for effect: either to terrorize or to boast.

The half-human beast pushed the door open, and June walked back into the the girls' ward, arriving practically attached at Brigitte's wrist. The tiny girl's clothing was dirty and torn, her was face bruised, her hair wild and tangled, her eyes maniacal. Most conspicuously: she was also covered with blood. She looked like Brigitte's mad, willing accomplice and wondered herself if it were true now.

Still early in the morning, only two girls, Jeanne and Lilly, had stirred. Finding the ward oddly unattended they sat in the lounge baffled, though they had not yet observed things closely enough to actually panic. Brigitte had mostly cleaned up evidence of her kills in the hallways.

One glance at Brigitte and June in the doorway sent the two girls cowering under the table. Brigitte growled to them that they'd better stay there.

June went first to her own room, begging Brigitte for a few moments of solitude with the excuse of cleaning herself and getting a new change of clothing. Actually, she couldn't care less about her own comfort now; she hoped for just a few seconds alone to think and maybe receive a message out of Brigitte's sight, but Brigitte wouldn't leave her alone. When she opened the door, she found the room bloody. What's more, Bobby was there, and he had changed. He now looked solid, and this time he definitely noticed her breasts, his leering, insane gaze practically buried itself in them.

"Oh, milady this is sooo much better!" he said to Brigitte, while he stalk toward June with his hands out.

"I didn't bring her here for you, asshole!" said Brigitte.

"Bobby, don't look at me and never come near me!" June exclaimed, shocked. She felt something hot between her breasts.

The skulls!

Bobby's eyes averted from her and he backed off immediately. June dashed from the room with Brigitte behind her.

"I thought you were friends," said Brigitte.

In the hallway she said, "He's changed, he wasn't anything like that before, what the fuck changed him?"

"I have no idea," said Brigitte. "He isn't the only ghost around here, though."

"You've seen them?" asked June.

"Yes, and a few you might know," said Brigitte.

June puzzled with this as they walked to Shannon's room. She hoped the council pondered it, too.

After they arrived, Brigitte threw herself on her back across the head of the bed; she lay there and cleaned herself, licking blood off her shoulder with an impossibly long tongue and a neck moving at absurd angles. June had to use the bathroom, which had no door. Brigitte refused to leave her. Unable to hold it, June had to relieve herself in Brigitte's presence despite the humiliation.

Afterward, June found Shannon a clean set of clothing, including shoes, which she put on the other end of the bed. Suddenly Brigitte sniffed the air, and followed her nose down to Shannon's shoes, which she then sniffed over methodically. She stood up with a snort and followed her nose over to the drawer set next to the bed, opened the lowest drawer, got down on all fours and sniffed through Shannon's laundry. She acted extremely canine until she put a claw in to take the items out and smell them each individually, tossing them out on the floor in turn.

June tried to go back to what she was doing, still making furtive glances to Brigitte as she took Shannon's coat, scarf, gloves and hat from the cabinet. She noticed, with surprise that Shannon did not have a suitcase of any kind. She brought the winter clothes to the bed, thought again and went back to get a sweater as well. Meanwhile, Brigitte's fur had fluffed out all over her; making her look larger. She stood up then kicked the drawer closed.

"Fuck!" she growled. "It doesn't make fucking sense!" She looked back at June who had frozen at the outburst. "Can't you go any faster?" Brigitte asked.

"Um, I am about done here," said June.

"Oh," said Brigitte, picking up Shannon's winter coat. "Where do you think she's going?"

June inferred suspicion though the tone was again unreadable. "Nowhere," said June, "but those halls are cold enough."

"Oh. Didn't notice," said Brigitte, who sat on the bed and began to clean her claw just like a cat.

"She's going to kill her, too," said the voice of an Eternal, Asrael, at least that's who June believed it was. "Your mission is to stop her."

"But how?" said Rose Petal, into the radio.

A guitar played soprano notes C-B-G and repeated. She wanted to sing, something, but was too afraid of Brigitte to start. Meanwhile, she folded the blanket around the clothes creating a kind of improvised bag. A guitar, bass and drums started in.

"I need something better to carry these in, and she needs food." said June, speaking loudly.

Brigitte stopped cleaning herself, stood up and said, "Come on."

When she did, the lyrics to the song came in:

"Lie awake in bed at night
And think about your life
Do you want to be different?
Try to let go of the truth
The battles of your youth
'Cause this is just a game."*

She listened closely for messages hidden in it as she followed Brigitte out. As they were in the hall, June heard interspersed voices that no longer whispered but shouted to her.

"Hence the punishment of the heathen. Time to repent your atheism and turn to God . . . he's talking to you, you know . . ."

"Captain this is Rose Petal." said her voice to the radio "Mayday. I'm subverted. Awaiting breakout codes, send messenger, please!"

"Did they subvert you, too?" asked Dr. Gadepalli, "I know exactly how you feel . . ."

"It's a beautiful lie
It's the perfect denial
Such a beautiful lie to believe in
So beautiful, beautiful it makes me"*

While all the voices converged in her head, June felt tears dripping down her face as they turned at the nurse's station and went up the perpendicular hallway toward the dining room. They arrived to find the door was locked, of course. Before June could say anything, Brigitte crouched down and lunged hitting the door with both arms. She did it three times in rapid succession. On the third, the door flew open. It had all happened so fast, as fast as three punches by a martial arts expert, that June felt she did not actually see it but only remembered what she thought must have happened. She was awed. Even the music in her head went dead silent.

As they entered, she heard some kind of heated discussion in the dinning room that suddenly muted with her entry. There by the window on the left side of the room, which was decorated for Halloween, her father, her sister Angie, and her mother turned toward her.

Finally! You visited me! And who else . . .?

At a table in the corner, Osama bin Laden sat with a Corporal played by Jared Leto. They took a furtive glance at her but then continued to whisper to each other in an argument.

Brigitte pretended to ignore them all and crossed the room toward the kitchen door. Apparently she had brought June in here especially to see them.

She had to. There's no such thing as a coincidence like this!

"Hello, honey," said dad. "So, I warned you how many times about what you were doing to your life? I hear you've ruined it now, after such promise. Are you ready to come back home and obey?"

"I'm so ready now; I miss you so much!" June answered, more tears dripped from her eyes.

"What . . ?" said Brigitte, turning toward her.

"Too late," he sneered. "The dog house is already occupied."

June's jaw dropped open. She felt her gut wither.

"I hear you've become a murderer." said Angie. "I liked you better before you got a cause, when you were just the meanest, rottenest brat on the planet . . ."

"Angie . . !" said her mother.

"No, not anymore . . ." June protested."

"June . . . ?" said Brigitte interrupting her.

". . . but she IS!" said Angie to her mother. "Everyone, the whole school says it! Now she's crazy, too."

"JUNE!" Brigitte growled. With that command, June's family froze in place. Osama and the Corporal played by Jared Leto took a glance over and then continued to whisper to each other, but June's attention was now on Brigitte.

"Stop talking to your imaginary friends!" said Brigitte.

"Oh, okay," said June, wondering if that would be her family or the werewolf? Her family now moved again but stayed silent, apparently afraid of angering Brigitte, while bin Laden and the Corporal continued their whispered argument as before. June didn't want to blow her cover by trying to eavesdrop on them.

"You've been subverted. You have no cover!" said Angie, suddenly.

Brigitte noisily broke down the kitchen door. "Get what you need," she said.

Somebody screamed. June jumped and looked back. A black haired-girl, who June knew as Myra, looked in from the hall, her hands over her mouth. She fled, but not before Brigitte had already bolted for her.

"No, Brigitte! Don't hurt her! Please!" June screamed.

Even by then, she knew Myra was doomed. She heard the second scream cut off, and sicking rips. June learned now what claws rending through flesh sounded like. Blood sprayed on the opposite wall, then she heard the sound of breaking bone. All of June's present hallucinations whispered requiems back and forth in languages June could only half understand as she heard gurgling from the hallway. Brigitte peered back around the door frame licking her claw.

"June, get to it! Meet me out here when you're done. And stop moping!"

June obeyed and hurried into the kitchen. On the floor in the corner she glanced at a mousetrap. It stirred up a sudden memory of her childhood, prompting her to laugh. So irrelevant was the memory to the needs of the moment that it felt like a punchline. She laughed more. Then she remembered Monty Python's mice-men sketch and couldn't stop laughing as she found some bread and checked it to make sure mice hadn't been in it.

"You don't want gay mice in your bread," said John Cleese, who stepped out into the aisle next to her.

"No! Or in my bed! . . ." she gasped, shrieking between laughs, "I might . . . sneeze . . . at them!" she exclaimed, before she convulsed with laughter so hard she slapped the counter, three, four times, unable to breathe, going light-headed with gleeful asphyxiation.

"Rose Petal, you're losing control," said the Captain, by radio. "This isn't funny, and that's not Mr. Cleese with you. It's a trick of the Nemesis. Close your eyes and command him to go away."

June closed her eyes, still unable to stop laughing. "You . . . go . . . away now!" she gasped, and opened her eyes. Cleese was gone, and a few seconds later she was able to stop laughing, and then drew deep breaths.

She then looked in the refrigerator and found some turkey, and some bell peppers. She took a whole bell pepper.

"Shay needs vitamins," said the doctor's voice.

She took an apple, too, and then began to laugh again.

Stop moping, Brigitte? I'll stop moping!

She totally lost focus, atonal music played, and she found herself on a stool looking desperately through overhead cabinets; for what, she did not really know. Until she opened one and almost fell off the stool at the sight of an orange cat, staring out at her, with quite human, blue-green eyes. It held something white in its mouth. Jumping down on the counter, it put the object down, leaped to the floor and dashed away.

"Wait!" said June, but it was totally out of the kitchen and gone. She peered after it for a few seconds before recovering.

A messenger!

Its eyes had reminded her of someone, she couldn't think of who. She looked at what it had dropped on the counter: a dead mouse. June felt herself laugh again; she couldn't help it. As she watched, the mouse began to unravel and change. It flattened and spanned out and became a piece of paper with words scrawled on it: "Smell is everything!"

She didn't know what it meant, not yet, but she would. She folded the paper and ate it, it tasted sweet, though she tried not to gag at the thought of also eating a mouse. She waited as the thought clarified in her mind. As it did, she laughed again.

"Her dominance seems to be carried by smell." said Dr. Gadepalli over radio. "You see her scent must effect your unconscious causing her commands to override your conscious will. It couldn't be psychic, because then verbal commands should be unnecessary. Blocking her scent, should block her mental dominance over you."

"Attention all patients," said Brigitte, her voice now coming over the loudspeaker. "This hospital is now under new management. Your meds and therapies are all canceled today. So just get normal, relax, and hang out. The kitchen's open, so help yourself. . . ."

June now remembered the family vacation eleven years ago, and staying in a cabin that had mice. She turned out to be allergic to them. She wondered why that had been so funny.

Brigitte's voice continued slowly, ". . . The blood you see all over is part of your new treatment, and the bodies are merely a side effect. . . ."

June began to frenziedly go through the bottom cabinets, sniffing them. She came to one with a revolting odor inside: mouse urine. It smelled like their outhouse. She sniffed again, paused to bring her gag reflex under control, then inhaled the stench deeply through her nose, as Brigitte continued, "If you find the new treatment disturbing, you can't snitch because the phones are out. You are free to try to leave, but it's a cold, dangerous world, and management is not responsible for anything that tears you into fucking little itty-bitty pieces out there. . . ."

June inhaled again, but a sneeze interrupted. Then another, then they came rapid-fire, as she heard Brigitte continue, "You are also absolutely free to enter the old sections, but if you do, management then will be responsible for tearing you into fucking little itty-bitty pieces. . . ."

She closed the cabinet, sneezing so much she began to choke, hoping she hadn't induce her first asthma attack. She felt success as her nasal passages constricted just as she heard Brigitte end, "That's all for now. If you have any questions, just ask June Collier."

"BITCH!" a whole chorus of voices shouted, and June would have joined them, had her own voice not been so hindered by sneezing. She hoped Brigitte had heard it.

"Looks like you're doing spin for her, Rose Petal!" said the voice of the English ambassador. "Perfect position for a spy!"

She had stopped sneezing and just caught her breath. "But nobody here will trust me now, you idiot!" she said undiplomatically, her voice hoarse. "That's not perfect . . ." she sneezed, ". . . for a fucking spy!"

She coughed to clear her voice as she looked for paper towels and plastic zip-seal bags. Finding them, she held her breath, reached back into the soiled cabinet and wiped the corners with a paper towel, quickly put it in the bag, just in case her sinuses cleared too fast. Of course, she also didn't know how long she had before the effects of Brigitte's scent wore off.

"That might take some time," said Dr. Gadepalli's voice.

"How long?"

"It's unknown. Let us know the results," said the doctor.

She washed her hands, wiped her nose on another paper towel, and wash them again.

"Your voice will go nasal!" said a jester ,who stepped out into the aisle.

June whispered to him aloud, "Shhhh. I just have to hope she doesn't put it together." She had to laugh because her voice was nasal, but she quickly brought the laughter under control. The jester was gone then, and she felt relieved that Brigitte wouldn't see him. She began to make the sandwich.

She then looked at the knives in the butcher block trying to come up with a plan. Taking one out and gazing at it, she decided that after making sandwiches, she would leave it here. No telling when the Brigitte's scent wore off, and after what she had done to avoid killing Shannon from paranoia, June Collier refused to be the one to cut Shay's throat under Brigitte's control.

After checking on her girl-flock, Brigitte now walked back toward the dining room. She had plucked a few, and amused herself with another, reveling the smell of fear. She planned to patrol the boys' wing in a similar manner, later. She realized with surprise that she suddenly felt tired and craved a nap. The last few days and nights had been long. Her energy just moments before had felt endless, but now for some reason, her body and mind craved sleep. She had accomplished all her tasks save one.

He's still stalking me!

She still feared Jason, and when she had heard June's screams and had bolted out to attack him earlier, Brigitte was the most surprised of the three. Whatever took her at that moment, she responded seemingly by reflex, but still with enough foresight to break the broomstick to use it as a spear. The revolver only added noise; if she hadn't speared him first, Jason would have quickly figured out that she couldn't aim.

Now she definitely had to come up with a plan regarding Jason. His threat to June being bad enough, Brigitte still loathed Jason's desires. She remembered that Sam warned of her inevitably becoming Jason's doxy .

No Sam, not on my life!

This was her castle and it would hold Jason at bay for now until she thought of something better. As she approached the dining room stepping over Myra's corpse, she could hear June in there whispering to her hallucinations, or maybe this time they were actually ghosts. No, hallucinations. Brigitte could hear only June's side of the conversation.

"No, there's a purpose to this," whispered June. She held a plastic trash bag with Shannon's clothes, and it contained a smaller bag with food.

"Purpose?" said Angie. "Look at how many people are dead now! Nothing this fucked up has a purpose. What this is really about are the loads of guilt you hope to make up for."

"I prayed! The music answered me!" June cried, no longer whispering.

"So now you believe in God? Oh, that'll make daddy proud!" said Angie.

"June," said Brigitte at the door. "Let's go?"

A set of keys dangled from a claw coming from the tip of Brigitte's middle finger. June had no idea where they had come from. Maybe it was a set Brigitte had forgotten to get before? Brigitte wore nothing but fur and blood and could have hardly pulled them out of her pocket.

"Maybe werewolves have pouches like kangaroos?" said Osama from the television up on the wall.

June began to go.

"Yeah, you have to obey Brigitte now!" Angie mocked. "That's your real purpose. She even said so."

"Angie, shut the fuck up!" cried June.

"June! Stop with the fucking imaginary friends before you piss me off!" Brigitte growled.

Angie, obeying Brigitte herself, disappeared. The TV had gone blank. June emerged into the hallway, wincing at Myra's bloodied corpse, its eyes open. June did not look closely. At least Myra did not suffer torture as some in the lobby had. She thanked her luck at not seeing anybody else, living or dead. Though the lounge had windows looking out to the hall, and she then saw someone lift a blind and peer out at them. Brigitte turned back that direction and the blind dropped. June wanted to hide in shame.

"Why did you drop my name?" she asked indignantly.

"Because you're intelligent. Come on," Brigitte said.

As she led June, Brigitte sniffed, and said, "So, you made her a processed turkey and mouse-shit sandwich? Very nutritious."

"No," said June, simply. She hoped Brigitte presumed she picked up the odor accidentally and wouldn't ask questions about it. For now, at least, Brigitte knew nothing about the allergy.

"I bet she can smell your snot," said Angie's voice.

"I gotta tell you," said Brigitte. "I offered her a rat before, and she was pretty ungrateful about it. That happened right down here the room we're going through. Oh, memories!"

They arrived at the door. To June, it seemed so long ago since she and Ginger had followed Brigitte through to the old wings. June felt so much older now, and like a different person in a totally alien world.

Brigitte fumbled with the keys.

"Maybe werewolves have pouches like kangaroos?" said Osama's voice again.

June laughed out loud. Somehow it was funnier the second time she heard it. Brigitte glared at her; June went silent.

"Fuck it," said Brigitte tossing the keys to June and breaking the door down. When they were inside the dark custodial room, Brigitte threw the door shut behind them. Light came in through fissures in it.

Meanwhile, June heard a single ping, and saw a lighted arrow above pointing down, like an elevator, and now she felt the room descending. She heard heavy metal music, and laughed.

"What the fuck is so funny?" asked Brigitte.

June gasped out, between laughs, "I'm . . . trapped in an elevator to Hell with you . . . It's like . . . a Spinal Tap love song. Um, not really too funny . . . is it?" She tried to keep from whooping hysterically.

"No! It isn't. Stop it!"

Like a miracle, June's mind obeyed. Her laughter shut down immediately, no effort required. Brigitte extended her toe claws in irritation and tapped them on the floor three times, and they continued to click as she crossed the room. June felt queasy as Brigitte lunged into the door, so hard and rapidly June couldn't count it. The door shattered. The lights in the next room were on. Brigitte went in, and stopped, her toe-claw tapping on the metal landing.

"Holy shit!" said Brigitte, who giggled this time. "She didn't go far." She continued down the steps then stopped, looking back up at June. "Well, come in! What are you waiting for?"

June took a step into the room onto the landing and looked down the long flight of metal steps. Beyond Brigitte, she saw a female corpse lying at the bottom. Brigitte descended and moved out of June's line of sight

A priest and an angel with rainbow wings knelt next to Laura, hands folded in prayer.

Brigitte ignored them and called up to her. "I spared her, and she throws herself right down the steps! Talk about wasting your life! Huh, no leg brace."

Still nauseated from the elevator ride, June crept down the steps, and momentarily thought she saw something in the corner of her eye, but overwhelmed already, she did not look. When she drew close enough to compensate for her near-sightedness, she saw that the corpse was Laura's. The priest took his thumb, dipped it in oil and made a cross upon Laura's head as he sang Extreme Unction with the angel sing in harmony:

De profundis clamo ad te,

D-o-mine, D-o-mine,

Exaudi vocem meam.

Erga sacrosáncta humánus reparatiónis

Clamo ad te,

D-o-mine, D-o-mine . . .

Laura's eyes were open and colorless; her features were pasty and slightly stretched. June had not really liked her, but began to sob anyway. She heard many interspersing whispers along with the priest's song, like a swarm of insects. Some of them broke above the maelstrom where she could clearly hear phrases.

"And with her the casualty figures are now two dozen dead . . ." said the documentary narrator.

"A woman screamed, falling to her death down the steps . . ." said Lucifer, reading from his book of poems.

June hadn't time to mourn. She had to follow Brigitte. Though she did not believe in Laura's God, she made the sign of the cross in reverence. It would appease the Eternals.

The girl-wolf stepped around the junk, tossing some out of her path while swearing.

"Brigitte, why are you doing all this?" asked June.

Brigitte stopped and turned to her, staring with orange canine eyes. "Doing what?"

The tone of Brigitte's voice as always was unreadable, as was her lupine face.

"I think she's fucking with you," said Aristotle's voice.

"No, she evidently doesn't understand you," said Plato's voice.

June decided to go with Plato. "Why are you killing and torturing people?"

"Oh, that!" Brigitte said, with a chortle.

"I mean, it's not, like, you . . . or Jason . . . you're not like the legends . . . just mindless beasts. Why are you doing this?"

"You'll understand why when you can smell them. Come on!"

June followed the command, and began to step around the debris, but continued to talk, "Smell people? You're doing it because we stink?"

"Oh, how fucking shallow do you think I am? Of course not!"

"Well, how do we smell then?" asked June.

"You smell cute."

"Me? Oh, cause I'm infected . . ."

"That's why God makes kids cute," interrupted aunt Rena's voice, "so you don't kill them."

". . . . how do the rest of us smell?" June continued.

"The smell fucks with your mind, and it's all over everything. . . just everywhere."

"Why take over the place then, and torture people?"

"I don't know, June!" Brigitte snarled. "Because it's right and it feels good. That's why!"

"Right . . . ?"

Brigitte growled and lashed out at her. A single claw nail scored under June's right jaw line, making a stinging, but superficial scratch. She yelped, thinking at first it was far worse, and knew it could have been. June listened to voices still volunteering their opinions.

"I'm fucking tired," said Brigitte. "Jason's still out there, and I have a fucking time limit, for the last time, come on!"

June hurried now, hearing frenzied voices.

"It's somehow instinctive," said a consensus voice of scientists echoing from the lecture hall.

"She can't reason," said Aristotle's voice.

"No, she can reason, she just can't be reasoned with," said Plato's voice.

They had come to the portal leading to the abandoned wings. June followed Brigitte into the hall.

"See? I told you. Smell is everything," said Ginger.

With the last voice, June looked back into the room for Ginger, remembering how she glanced at something ghostly upon entering the room, but instead of the red-headed ghost, she saw an apparition so outlandish she positively knew it was a hallucination. It had no lower body, just the upper-half of a man floating in the air. It "stood," levitating in place, it's spine whipping beneath it.

"Hey, June honey," said Will, "on the bright side, she treats females better than she treats males."

"JUNE!" Brigitte roared, grabbing her by the shoulder, and throwing her down the hall to crash sprawling into a debris pile. Bruised and moaning, June was learning, as Shannon did, what low status in the pack meant.

The apparition snickered. Brigitte stuck her head back around the doorway and roared. It screamed and darted straight into the puddle without a splash.

"Jack off," Brigitte muttered, walking down the hall to pick June up and shove her forward.

*Lyrics: "A Beautiful Lie" by "30 Seconds to Mars."