Tales of a Feather

by Sowelo

Sequel to New America. I thought everything in my life was finally back to normal. Well close enough to being normal after the insane discovery of my origins but I made peace with it. At least I think I did, but there are still questions left unanswered along with a few demons; figuratively AND literally. **Nominated for Best M-Rated Fic in the 2015 Hetalia Awards**

37. Chapter 37

Mara crouched forward, her fingers sliding over a trail of hoof prints. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Once she caught the scent her eyes snapped open; her irises flaring with a brilliant yellow light as her pupils tightened into slits. She discarded her jacket and shoes quickly, channeling Jaguar through their bond.

"Red deer…" Jaguar observed.

Mara nodded, her body hair thickening as her feet and hands expanded into paws.

"Kill?" Jaguar inquired.

"No. Capture." She surged forward, her feet kicking up snow in a trail of powder behind her.

She weaved through the trees, skidding on the ice with the grace of a dancer. Jumping and twirling from each obstacle that stood in her way. The scent grew stronger with each leap and she picked up the pace, not at all worried of the deer out running her. The male's head snapped to attention and he broke into a sprint. There was no chase as Mara pounced and tackled the stag to the ground.

He squealed and Mara stabbed a needle into his neck. He bucked and kicked but she held him down with ease, waiting for the tranquilizer to take effect. The male's struggles weakened as his dark eyes blinked slowly and his breathing became slow and even. Mara sighed and released her hold on Jaguar's power.

Back in human form Mara rose; carrying the deer over her shoulder as she made her way back to her jacket and shoes. She dressed quickly, covering her exposed skin against the cold. Dusted off the snow left behind on her coat and sinks into the earth. She swims through the soil, dragging the male by his horns behind her. She breaks for the surface in Tuileries Garden, choosing the more wooden area of the park to avoid crowds but she wasn't prepared for the bitter chill of snow she had to dig through.

"Snow has come early…" she muttered and yanked herself up, pulling the deer along with her.

Mara flipped the stag over her shoulders and sprints for Park Hyatt Paris-Vendome; cloaking herself with an invisible charm to avoid suspicious looks or questions. The hotel was on the Place Vendome, just outside of the first arrondissement. It was known for its luxury and elegant taste. From lavish hotel rooms and suites to the striking blend of contemporary architecture and classic design. The surrounding neighborhood was just as extravagant, with glamorous department stores, brightly lit brasseries, theaters, and cinemas. It was also the home to the famous Palais Garnier opera house.

Abigail preferred nothing but the finest.

Mara didn't care as long as it was quiet.

"Of course, it is," Mara recalled Abigail's mischievous grin, "We wouldn't want anyone to hear their screams."

She strolled into the lobby, the charm still in effect allowing her to walk across a room full of people and not be questioned for having a live deer swung over her shoulders.

The charm didn't work on everyone though.

"Mara!" Abigail called out, waving a hand for the Savannah to hold the elevator.

Mara flinched but kept the doors opened, "don't call my name! The charm only works when I avoid attention," she whispered.

"Oh hush, no one saw you," Abigail pressed the doors closed as her spare hand carried a blanket covered bird cage.

Mara sighed and shook her head.

"So…" Abigail dragged the word in a long low tone, "what do we have here?" She reached out for the head of the stag, palming his chin in her hand as her thumb caressed the fur.

"It's a red deer," Mara answered curtly.

"Oh," she examined the male with a critical eye, "my, my, such magnificent horns. Yet not that… what's the word? Vicious?"

"They have strong legs and horns for defense," Mara countered.

Abigail snorted, "A good defense is a good offense," she lifts the blanket off the cage to reveal a Peregrine Falcon. "Now not only does this bird have claws and a keen eye sight, it also has speed."

Mara smirked, "this chimera well certainly be interesting."

They reach the top floor and head straight to their shared suite. Abigail opened the door to find that most of the chairs from the living room were stacked along the wall. In the middle of the living room was a teenage boy; gagged, naked and tied to a chair. He was beautiful with soft brown skin, amber eyes and dark curls, he was very much Edward's type. The boy's gaze found them and he cried out for help through his gag. The immortals ignored him. Steam was coming from the kitchen, the scent of lemon and mint floated in the air. Books were scattered along a desk table with talismans and small bowls of herbs and stones.

Edward was pacing back and forth from the desk to the kitchen with his pocket journal in hand. "Welcome to headquarters ladies," he looked up from his journal, "what did you bring me?"

"Red deer," Mara presented.

His smile faltered, "A deer? I was kinda hoping for a lion."

"If you wanted a lion we should have gone to South Africa," Mara chided.

"Doesn't Paris have a zoo?" he implied.

"If I took an animal from the zoo people would notice," she emphasized.

"Now, now, no need to fight," Abigail stepped forward revealing her falcon. "Where Mara has failed, I have succeeded."

Edward grins, "Oh Abby I knew I could always count on you."

Mara rolled her eyes and drops the stag to the floor, "I suggest you hurry… he'll wake in a little more than an hour."

"That's fine," he stated, jotting down another note. "Giselle!" he called out, "How's that tea coming?"

"Almost done," she answered as she added chamomile to her pot.

Abigail raised a brow, "What's the tea for?"

Edward pushed up his glasses, the eyewear was mostly for show now but it reminded Mara of the first time she met the boy. Beaten, bloody, and coddling the motionless body of his beloved. "I might have found a way for a chimera to use magick."

Both Mara and Abigail were stunned, "that's impossible," said Mara.

"Oh, but it isn't," he snatches one his heavy books and skims through its pages.

"But animals can't do magick, thus a chimera is magick-less," Abigail explained.

"Unless fused with a human," Edward reminded.

"But even with a human for the transfusion," Mara spares a glance to the boy, "their soul is so traumatized by the ritual that they'll incapable of doing magick."

"Hey I'm not saying they would do anything big but they might be able to control their element." He flips to a page in his book and displays a chapter on awakened senses. "Each element has herds and stones associated with them. If a person drinks their element's herbs while clutching on to their stone, it could awaken their senses."

"It takes more than that," Mara argued.

He shrugged, "Yes, well elemental magick is the basic for all magick users it's the first thing you guys taught me before doing anything else."

"But we eased you into it your senses before even touching elemental magick," she proclaimed.

"Oh yeah, feeding me a soul from one of my asshole classmates was your way of easing me into it huh?"

"So, we feed this the boy a soul," Abigail reasoned.

Mara shook her head in disapproval, "No. Chimeras would need to eat more than their fair share if they became immortal. Some wouldn't even know their limit and just keep eating."

"So how else do you open one's senses?" Edward asked.

"Well I had a voodoo witch open my senses with a ritual involving a chicken," Abigail casually tossed out.

Edward snapped his fingers, "That's it!"

"So… we need a chicken?" Abigail concluded.

"No. We already have a bird. The guy I have is air natured, like you Abby."

"How can you tell?" Mara asked.

He gave a cheeky grin, "I can tell by the shape of his aura. Air users have a smoky aura, almost like they're surrounded by incense fumes. Fire users like me flicker, our aura is like campfire; Giselle's thunder natured so her aura makes sound and Mara your aura breaks, like little pieces of dirt crumbling away."

"God," Abigail groaned, "if I wanted to hear a damn Sight lesson I would've gone back to the Hawkfeathers."

Mara smiled, feeling an enormous sense of pride in her former student. "It takes great dedication and patience to learn the Sight and nearly impossible to master it."

Edward scratched the back his neck, his ears taking on a pinkish hue, "I can never master it… only to a degree."

Mara slipped a hand into his hair, ruffling his locks, "still I'm very proud of you."

He broke into the biggest, sweetest smile Mara has ever seen on him, "earning such praise from Mara, it must be a Christmas miracle."

Abigail made a gagging motion and Mara sighed, turning on the witch, "are you done?"

"I think Abby's jealous," Edward snickered.

"Don't make me throw you out that window," The Puritan pointed for the window in the kitchen.

"Oh, like you did back in the nineties," he muttered.

"What? How did that happen?" Mara furrowed her brow in concern.

"I was high off coke and I thought he could fly," Abigail replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"You knew I couldn't you dumb bitch," he snapped.

"It was the coke," she claimed, "also, it was over twenty years ago, let it go."

"Enough," Mara called out and massaged the bridge of her nose, "you two are gonna be the death of me."

"I bet it will be Abby's fault," said Edward.

Abigail gasped, "Rude."

"The tea's done!" Giselle informed them as she strolled over with a filled cup.

"Oh, thank Iya," Mara muttered and turned on Edward. "How exactly will this work?"

"He needs to drink the tea, hold his stone and then with the falcon-"

Abigail whined, "That's too much work."

She takes the tea from Giselle and strides for the boy. She removes his gag and he whimpered in French, "Please… please don't kill me…"

Abigail answered in his mother tongue, "Oh honey, when we're done with you, you're gonna we wish did."

Tears formed at the corners of his eyes as Abigail surged forward, forcing the scorching tea down his throat. He cried out, drowning in the liquid. Once the cup was empty, Mara watched as Abigail dragged the boy by his chair and heads straight for the window in the living room.

"Abby," Edward called out, "What are you doing?"

"The quickest way to open someone senses are for them to go through a near death experience." She grinned as her eyes glowed red, "he's air natured right? What's the best way to get acquainted with your element, then by jumping right in?"

Mara knew what the Salem Witch was thinking, "Abigail, no."

"Abigail, yes!" with those last words, Abigail shoved the boy out the window.

Edward screamed, "Catch him!"

"Yes, yes," she jumped after him as Mara and others ran for the window. Both Mara and Edward sighed in relief as they found Abigail clutching boy in her arms. Edward thanked god that he didn't lose his main ingredient while Mara was glad that Abigail had enough sense to cloak her presence.

"No good," she called out as the crowd kept walking, not even batting an eye to the attempt of murder that had just played out. "I think we need to take it up a notch."

"What?! No!" Edward shouted, "If he dies, I have to go out and look for another boy. I mean I could but I don't want to."

"Oh relax, I'll catch him," she threw herself into the air, soaring above their hotel. She then began to swing the boy back and forth. She counted to three and on the third swing, she let go hurling the boy through the early night sky.

Giselle whistled, "Look at him go."

Edward craned his neck, "Oh god I can't see him! Is he still in the air?!"

Giselle tilted her head as if hearing a voice, "Martin says he's descending."

"Abby! Get him!" Edward cried out.

The said witch was too busy examining her nails, "Hmm, I think it's time for a manicure."

Mara roared, "Abigail!"

"I'm going, I'm going," she threw her head back as she racketed out of sight, her echoing laughter was all that can be made of her fading presence.

Edward slumped against the window frame, "if she's not going to be the death of you, she'll certainly going to be the death of me."

Giselle leaned forward, "she's coming back with the boy in toll."

"Oh, thank you baby Jesus," he crossed himself.

Mara crossed her arms, ready to give Abigail a piece of her mind. The said witch slipped through window as she exclaimed, "Are you insane or just stupid? What if someone with magick saw you?!"

"Oh hush," Abigail grinned, "you're not going to be mad at me for long." Her voice flowed like velvet as the presented the boy forward.

His skin was red due to the cold and his hair was tousled with flakes scattered in his curls. He was shaking as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair, almost denting the wood; but what really commanded their attention was his eyes. No longer were they bright shade of honey amber but a vibrant green.

Edward couldn't resist a grin stretching from ear to ear, "You crazy bitch."

"You know you love me for it," she winked.

"Wh-what are you people," the boy stuttered in broken English.

Abigail smiled as she tied the gag back in place, "we're witches and you're our new toy."

"Put him back in the center," Edward instructed, "right above the scorpion."

Mara took a moment to examined Edward's circle; two triangles, one upside down to represent water and above that was a right side up triangle with a line crossing the bottom of the shape. That one represented air for the boy. Placing these two triangles together created a star of David but with an extra level below the star. In the center of the triangles was a design of a scorpion; Iya's scared beast. Within the smaller triangles where the Nordic runes Ken for new life, Tir for creation and the old rune for binding. Scattered around the circle were symbols and incantations written in the Alchemical alphabet. Along with the addition of Magi, the Witch's and the Rosicrucian alphabets. The entire circle was written in red spray paint but Mara could smell the blood mixing with the paint fumes.

She glanced to Edward as he walked back to his desk and opened his pocket journal to a marked page. His eyes flared blue as he dipped his fingers into the paper and yanked out a long, yellowed femur.

She flinched, "Do you really need to use that?"

"Yes. This bone belonged to a sorcerer from China, he was a dragon shifter." He stopped talking when he noticed Mara whispering a prayer. "Oh, come on Mara, we're done worse than stealing from the dead."

"I was raised to respect the dead," she protested.

"Yes, yes, the dead must be laid to rest or their spirit will haunt the earth-blah, blah, blah," Abigail mocked. "Hey mister Chinese Sorcerer, if you have a problem with us using your bone speak now or forever hold your peace."

"Abigail," Mara hissed, "this is not a joke!"

"It doesn't matter," Giselle spoke from her window, staring out into the City of Lights. "That bone is over three thousand years old…he must've been reborn by now...he must've lived countless lifetimes. I don't think his current life will ever know that he was a sorcerer."

"See, even Giselle isn't scared," Edward turned his focus on to the animals. "Bring the deer and put him on the left and the falcon on the right."

Mara and Abigail followed his orders, placing the animals within the circle but outside the triangles. Then they marched to their corners; Abigail taking the east corner while Mara stood in the north. Giselle stood at the west and Edward came to the south with a bowl in hand. He lit the herbs and blew out the smoke; the scent of sandalwood, jasmine and mint engulfed the room. He tossed in three stones: topaz for air and the boy. Garnet for the increase of energy and power. Lastly, opal for water and the physical change that was about to take place.

"Alright ladies, I need you to chant the Blood Armor incantation," Edward proclaimed.

"The Blood Armor?" Abigail raised a brow in amusement, "Dear Edward what are you planning?"

He smiled, "you'll see. Now quick-chant!"

Abigail took center stage as she sang those ancient verses. Mara and Giselle followed, their voices harmonizing with the Salem Witch. It wasn't long till a series of whispers vibrated from the walls, growing louder with each note. Iya's children slithered in from the shadows, chanting and swaying to Abigail's dark melody. The vapors circled them, dancing like ribbons caught in the wind.

Mara looked to Edward as he pulled a knife from his pocket and began to sharpen the bone at one end. Even though the scene made her uncomfortable, she swallowed her superstitions and focused on the chant.

Once the bone had become a wand, Edward poured his aura into it and wrote sigils in the air. As each sigil was written, lines followed; carving into his victims. The boy gave a muffled scream as the falcon cried and flapped in its cage. The stag began to stir but the drug had worked better than Mara thought, it didn't feel the pain at least not yet.

Runes of creation, sigils of binding and the alchemist symbol of fusion covered the boy's skin. Blood was dripping from his arms and legs, staining the scorpion below him. Blood pooled beneath the deer and he moaned a wounded cry. The falcon fought; throwing himself against the bars of his cage.

The boy struggled against his restraints, his eyes flashing green as he screamed. A blast of whirlwind kicked at his feet, the blades of air cutting into the rope.

Edward raised his eyebrows, "Oh it seems he's more powerful than I thought."

The boy freed his arms and Edward shook his head, "no, no, none of that now."

The vapors pounced; ringing themselves around the boy's arms and keeping him pinned to his seat. While the rest lunged for the animals. They ripped into their flesh; spilling even more blood as they licked it off the floor. Accepting the offer, they dove in mixing themselves within the scarlet. They trembled at the sensation as the blood curdled black and with one final cry the falcon and deer began to liquefy. Their fur, feathers, horns, claws, flesh and bone molten into black puddles.

When both animals were fully dissolved, the vapors turned on the boy. Surrounding him in a whirlpool of blood and darkness. They seeped into his wounds, fusing their magick and the animals' flesh with him. He kicked and screamed but no one could hear him; no one could save him from this fate.

The vapors twisted within him causing his body to shake and ripple under the skin. His bones stretched and his muscles grew forcing him to be taller and wider. Black fur spreads from his waist and down his legs. His feet shriveled in-ward; breaking each bone down as his flesh became hard and stomped into hooves. White and black feathers spouted on his arms and shoulders as his hands expanded and his nails became long, jagged talons. The feathers continued to spread, covering his torso, neck and face. His hair fell out in heavy chucks and his mouth and nose fused; the flesh blacking into a beck.

The beast bit off his gag and tore himself off the chair. Horns broke through the sides of his head, growing large and wide with pointed antlers. His back rippled as two massive black and white wings burst from his shoulder blades and aligned his spine. The wingspan stretched, the tips of his feathers nearly reached Giselle and Abigail. Finally, his body settled and he collapsed to his knees, panting for air.

Mara closed the circle as the femur in Edward's hand shattered into pieces; its magick drained. He slapped the bone dust from his hands and grinned at his creation. "Well ladies what do we think?"

"He's gorgeous," Abigail proclaimed as she caressed a wing, "and so soft."

"But…" Mara spun to face Edward, "why was the Blood Armor needed?"

"Chimeras are not like shifters, they can't hide their form but with the Blood Armor and the shifter bone." He looked to his creation and commanded, "Change!"

On cue the chimera's features rippled as the Blood Armor shivered. With a rise and fall the newly formed chimera was back to human form.

Mara gasped as Abigail's jaw dropped and Giselle's eyes grew wide.

Edward gave a mad grin, "ladies I present you the first Level Five chimera."

---

Alfred entered the Ottoman Dome, scanning the area for a familiar face. His brows furrowed in annoyance when his friend was nowhere to be seen. Music no longer played, instead what took place was the clashing of blades and exchanging of fists. Severe combat training filled the dance floor. Spirits had split into partners of two or three as they fought and polished their skills.

Alaric caught him at the corner of his eye and the larger blond waved for Alfred to join him and Romulus. Alfred shook his head and points to the corridor of stairs beside him. Alaric understood and spun on Romulus with his blade swung high over his head. Romulus easily blocked with his shield and directed his sword to Alaric's side. The blond ducked and swept his foot at the Romulus' legs, knocking the Roman off his feet.

Alfred sped down the dark stair case, taking two or three at a time till he made the break in the light of the library. The actually library, the main hall where most of the books and scrolls were stored in. He jumped off the steps, falling nearly hundred feet till he landed on the marble floor with the grace of a cat.

"Show off!" John shouted from his table in the center of the room.

Alfred smirked, "You know, you can do that now Johnny."

"Yeah," the seemingly young native man narrowed his dark eyes, "I'll stick to the stairs."

The blond chuckled, "fine, you masochist, have fun climbing all those stairs."

John shook his head and turned back to his book, "are they still fighting up there?"

Alfred sighed, "Yeah, the law has been lifted so we could train."

"It's getting bad isn't it?"

Alfred ignored his question and tried to change the subject onto a lighter one. "Whatcha reading?" he asked in a sing along tune.

"A book from the Mythology hall, I'm trying to find more on Iya but it turns out they have many names." John gestured to his books, "There is Tiamat a Babylonian mother goddess of the deep ocean-isn't that where so called Abyss is? In the deepest part of the ocean within the earth." He didn't allow Alfred to answer as he continued, "Also there is Itzpapaloti an Aztec goddess, she's also been known as the Bone Collector in more modern times. She's fearsome and was the goddess of the stars?"

That statement ended in a question but he moved on, "Then there are the Egyptian gods Apophis and Kuk. Apophis is a serpent god, deification of evil and darkness while Kuk is an un-created god?" He paused and opened another book, "it says that un-created is just another word for no form… Kuk was also the god of primordial darkness.

"Then you have the Greek goddess Achlys who was said to have been born from sadness and misery… Also, her form comes in a black mist." John turned to Alfred, "what do these gods and goddesses have in common?"

"Uh, they all have a thing for darkness?" he shrugged.

"That," the brunet agreed. "But most of them don't have a form. Tiamat, Kuk, and Achlys are said to be made out of mist or darkness. While Apophis does have a snake form but what do these shadow demons-vapors look like? Faceless snakes. And then there's Itzpapaloti… she is skeleton woman… it's said she has no eyes… just empty black holes that stretch for miles. Nothing inside."

"Okay, okay, slow your roll there. Did you read all the way to the last paragraphs of each of these guys?"

John opened two more books and read the last paragraph of each god, "It says Itzpapaloti and Apophis where sealed? What does that mean?"

Alfred took a seat across from him, "You know that most gods were played by spirits right?"

"Yes," John nodded.

"Well these spirits… they just fell too deeply into their roles and they began to believe that they really were gods. And gods need followers. Some needed sacrifices to remain on earth. I mean look to the Aztecs, they took sacrifices very seriously."

"But why? What was the point?"

"At first it was a way for them to show devotion but over time the spirits began to take these souls as way to stay on the Earth Plane. Then it became a game; how many followers and sacrifices can I get and so forth." Alfred sighed, "But that wasn't the worst part."

John raised a brow, "How is that not the worst?"

"They fueled most wars between man; saying that what their neighbors worshiped were false gods and demanded for new followers. Some just wanted to stir up trouble and watch the humans kill each other for entertainment."

John shook his head and asked, "You said most gods… but not all?"

"We usually stayed with the more popular gods-like Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Aztec and Mayan and some Asian gods too. So, no need to worry, not all of them were real… well somewhat real. We may have played gods but we don't have god-like powers."

"Did you play a god?"

Alfred laughed, "No I was more of a prankster… I was still a kid, in star terms when the god turf wars were going on. Being a prankster meant that you had many names depending which area you were in. I was called Loki and Hermes but mostly I fell more in the category of the Faire Folk like Tricksters or Kitsunes."

"Tricksters and Kitsunes are Faire Folk?"

"They're in the same flock, not good but not bad either."

John smirked, "yeah I can see that."

"Hey I'm pretty good," Alfred countered.

"Of course," John rolled his eyes but something was still eating at him, Alfred knew that much.

"What's on your mind John?"

John's smile fell, "There are still so many questions. What's the Abyss? Where did it come from? What about this," he gestured to the room and the eight hallway entrances, "Human History, Witch History… I understand those, but 2nd generation and 3rd generation Spirit History what does that mean? And where is the first? Then the gods Tiamat, Kuk and Achlys were never sealed so they were either never played with or purely man made. Yet what does that mean? Sealed? You didn't even answer that."

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time," Alfred combed a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. "To answer where the first generation section is, you're in it."

Alfred waves his hand around the room, where nine work tables stood in the center as bookshelves aligned the stair case but the shelves only came to the tenth step.

John narrowed his gaze, "are you kidding me? The other two have entire hallways, granted the third is much bigger but the spirits are stars and stars-"

"Have existed just as long as the universe and the universe is over fourteen billion years old," Alfred stated.

"Exactly," John glances back to the sad bookshelves, "that doesn't look like fourteen billion years of history."

Alfred knew it was impolite to laugh but he couldn't contain his laughter, "dude the Spirit World hasn't even existed for that long."

"Then where…" he rubbed his face, "I'm so confused."

Alfred took a deep breath, "I'll try to make a very, very long story short. Long ago at the beginning of the universe there where billions of stars-"

"This doesn't sound short," John muttered.

"Hey I'm telling you how they told me when I was young," Alfred exclaimed. "So, sit and listen. Stars are born from the gases in the universe and spirits are born from those stars. At first the universe was our home, we traveled through the galaxies, from star to star, from planet to planet we were nomads. Peaceful shape-shifters that changed their forms constantly and passed down history through story-telling."

"Shape-shifters…so you what's your true form?" asked John.

"We don't have one, we're made of pure energy. The only reason I don't change my form often is because I'm so used to this body. Being Alfred F. Jones is me but not all of me. It's kinda hard to explain…when I was a nation, that's all I knew but now being back…" he tsked. "Almost twenty years back and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. Like I said, before being a nation. I was a Trickster, a wanderer, a…" he paused, clutching his jaw.

"Alfred?"

Alfred broke out of his trance, "sorry… Like I said, it's hard to explain. One moment, you know who are the-next you don't and later once you think you know who are. It turns out you're much more than what you are."

"That makes no sense," John replied.

"Heh," the spirit scratched the back of his head, "yeah… The ancients get it, so they help me through it.

"Also, I don't like changing my form cause Ava put so much work into it; making my body, choosing my eyes. You should really ask her about it, she gets this look in her eyes when talks about giving 'birth' to us," he chuckled at the memory.

Ava's voice rising in excitement as she explained the process with so much detail and affection. Her eyes would shine as her hands waved with exaggerated gestures and the widest, most beautiful smile would form on her lips. The image made his heart swell with love; in a way Ava was his mother.

His good mood dropped when he had to get the hard part, "For the first few billion years that's how we lived and everything was fine till alien species figured out that they could use us to run their power plants."

John's eyes widened and Alfred continued, "They tried capturing us and imprisoning us on their planets but they quickly realized our kind couldn't last long. We need to be in the space, to drink in the energy of the universe. Funny how the aliens thought we were limitless energy but in reality, we need be recharged. That's where the satellites came in; keeping our kind imprison inside metal boxes, orbiting around their planet as they slowly drained us but yet fed us… I have no idea what that could be like but Gisli said that it feels like death is so close but it never comes. It's just an endless stretch of pain and fatigue till they feed you but once you begin to feel alive again they instantly drain you."

Alfred paused, allowing his words to sink into him, "that's no way to live. We weren't fighters so we ran. The aliens had trackers, devices that could find us anywhere in the universe and the more there were of us, the easier it was for them to find us. So, the only way to survive was to stay away from each other, cause if we formed clusters, we would all be captured.

"This went on for about five billion years..."

Alfred darted a glance at John; he could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to add up the math in his head. "Maybe I should answer more pressing questions."

"What?! No. I want to know how this ends…how did your people get away? What about the stars in our Solar System? We're they safe?"

"Ok, ok, um, this whole star capturing business was happening at one corner of the universe. Even though the Milky Way is almost as old as the universe it was on the other side, way, way, over there," Alfred emphasized, gesturing to the far wall for show.

"It was just pure luck and location that kept the Milky Way in peace but it wasn't going to last. The Daevlaions were making their way to this galaxy, to colonize any livable planets." Alfred's teeth ground together at the mention of these hideous creatures, "This race was the worse of the worse. They colonized early worlds and slaughtered any intelligent or would be intelligent species on that planet. Every male, female and child-slaughtered; no exceptions."

Hard blue eyes met sad dark eyes, "They were coming for us at first; Gisli and his friends didn't listen to their Elders' warnings. Ironic really, he complains that we don't listen to him." He couldn't even laugh at his own joke, "Then they saw Earth, its massive amounts of water and fertile land, it was a major prize. Early humans were just coming into their own over two million years ago, meaning ya'll were just discovering fire. So yeah, none of you had chance of winning."

John held up a finger, "I have one more question, how old are you?"

"Heh, uhh," Alfred thought about it, "I'm over five hundred thousand years old. Actually, if I think about it, most of the spirits now are around that age or a little older. Including Amy and the nations," he smiled at the mention of his successor and friends. "We're just a bunch of teenagers to Gisli."

"How much is a little?"

"Hm, besides Gisli the oldest spirits around here have reached their first million. Now those guys were born right after the war. The one between us and the Daevlaions; now they were ones that were done running. It was time to fight back. These guys where Gisli's generation, the 2nd generation. The warriors that fought to protect Earth and the Solar System, to protect the only home they ever knew. This war lasted for nearly two million years."

John blinked, "how could a war last for two million years?"

"I am using Earth years, but keep in mind some parts of space can be slower or faster than Earth," Alfred explained.

"But still-"

"Daevlaions were not the kind to surrender," the blond interjected. "They had the numbers, the technology, and the weapons, they thought they were going to win but we were just as stubborn and we had to a lot more to lose than them. We battled; most were kept away from Earth but the biggest battle couldn't be avoided. This battle is where the birth of the legend of hell and heaven's war came from."

"But Christianity didn't exist then," John added.

"Yet, it was passed down. Granted a lot of it was changed but the plot didn't. It was a story about celestial beings fighting against an evil race of 'demons'. Also, we kinda bragged to the humans, a lot," he gave a cheeky grin.

John smiled, shaking his head as Alfred continued:

"The only way we won was when word reached to the satellites. When the spirits trapped inside heard of our struggle, they cooked up a plan-one that would end the war but at the cost of their own lives.

"They dug deep inside themselves and their mother stars, crying out due to their fear and pain. We don't think our mother stars have conscious thought but something must be there cause the next thing those spirits knew, they were burning. They were filled with massive amounts of energy, the kind that couldn't be contained. They literally made themselves into a super nova bomb, completely leveling any planet they were orbiting.

"Any planet the Daevlaions had colonized where wiped out in minutes. When word had reached the fleets, the 2nd generation were preparing for a counter attack but Gisli stopped them and walked straight to the commander and said:

"'Nearly half of your colonies have been wiped out and with one word, the rest can and will be obliterated unless you leave our galaxy and never return. Spread the word, the Milky Way is under our protection and if any alien race steps foot inside, they will be annihilated!'"

Alfred roared those final words, feeling the triumphant of his ancestors surge inside him. He looked to John to find the brunet grinning along with him. Alfred boasted, "They left with their tails between their legs and the Earth was ours."

"But what about the Spirit World?"

"I'm getting there," Alfred assured, "The last battle was won but with a heavy price. Not only did we lose spirits in the satellites but also in battle, most if not all Gisli's friends were killed."

"Then how could they even form a counter attack?"

"Dude, they bluffing big time. Frankly if the satellite spirits hadn't sacrifice themselves Earth will not be like it is today." He inhaled deeply, "it's thanks to the fallen that day that Ava was able to create the Spirit World."

John's eyebrows rose, "Ava created this world? How?"

"With stardust," Alfred answered. "When a spirit dies they leave behind gray diamond like ash, also known a stardust. This dust has great power; it could purify planets, make dead ones fertile and in Ava's case make a mirror world inside its own pocket dimension."

John's jaw dropped, "Ava's a goddess, isn't she? A real one?"

"Yes and no, I mean she had a lot of help with the dust and it's not like this is an entire new universe. It's just a small pocket, a small thank you gift for saving the world."

"Making a dimension is small gift?" John questioned, his tone becoming sarcastic and skeptical.

Alfred shrugged, "Creating something like this took a toll. The only way the Spirit World could function was to connect it to the Earth. So, Ava transported her soul-the tree of life from the Earth Plane to the Spirit World, connecting each root to a tree on Earth. Doing this, Ava had separated her body and soul. She could never have the power she once had but she can still control her body. Not often but she doesn't seem to mind.

"She wanted to be close to Gisli and he could never stay long on her surface so the next best thing was to join him here. Thanks to the tree of life, the Spirit World is a direct line to the universe, so we don't have to leave to recharge. Just being here or drinking the nectar from the tree is enough for us.

"The 2nd generation gave up their lives for this world. We, the 3rd generation owe them a lot. We would still be running for our lives if they didn't fight back." Alfred sighed heavily, "and what did we do to show our appreciation? By nearly tearing this world apart with our childish games. The war of the gods. The monsters...we really fucked up."

"Monsters…so you played those too," said John.

"Yes, and just like when playing gods, the spirits forgot who they were, believing that they were monsters. Why do you think we always warn each other about taking those kinds of forms for too long? Cause if they're not careful they can lose themselves to the roles and wreck chaos onto the world."

"But spirits can't last on Earth, what happens if they stay too long?"

"They either die or start eating humans."

"Eating humans?! But you all don't even have a body?"

"Your flesh isn't what they're interested in. I mean they had to rip into the person to get what they wanted and that was the soul. Human souls are made with the atoms of the universe, so technically you all are walking energy drinks to us."

"Good to know."

"Relax John no one will hurt you," he promised. "Humans were terrified and other spirits wanted to help but humans didn't trust them. The Faire Folk and Tricksters, were not meant to be trusted. That's when some of the first nations were born, well back then they were called guardians. With their clay bodies they were more human in the peoples' eyes and were even beloved. But they were unstable, humans were more nomadic at that time so countries weren't really established. A lot of earth bound spirits didn't last for more than a couple decades-a century if they were lucky.

"Then when countries did form and empires came into play, the monsters and gods were at their peak and seeped into myth and story. But records were being written, nearly almost counted as history…we had to put a stop to them. So, the rest of us tracked them down and tried to talk them out of it. The gods were annoying as hell, being like 'I'm the ruler of the cosmos' 'the creator of man'. God, Zeus really got on my fucking nerves."

Alfred sighed as he rubbed his face, "the monsters on the other had were just…sad. No matter how we screamed and begged, they truly thought they were monsters. Most I had to be put down… Some of them were my friends," Alfred closed his eyes, "that's how I got my name from the Native Americans. To them, I was Monster-Slayer."

John didn't say a word, instead he reached for Alfred's hand and gave a comforting squeeze.

The blond took in his strength and continued, "Ava's heart broke most out of everyone's. We were like her children and like any devoted mother, she believes that there is good in her children. Thus, she sealed them away in the Amazon Forest, the place we call the Forest of the Lost."

"Hold up! Powerful gods and murderous, man-eating monsters are in the Amazon Forest?!"

"No. They're sealed inside of trees inside the Amazon Forest," Alfred corrected.

John gave him a terrified look, "people cut down trees there!"

"Why do you think we pushed for the Green Laws and sabotage construction jobs, cause if someone cuts down the wrong tree it would be the end of days."

John shook his head, "how long have they been there?"

Alfred took a moment to think, "Most have been there for two, three thousand years…some almost for four," he answered.

"And they're still alive?"

"Ava keeps them alive. She transports energy for them, waiting for them to snap back to normal, but," he paused. His eyes closed as he inhaled through his nose, "I saw them. I fought them. I've seen the darkness in their eyes. They're gone but Ava still holds out hope. Hope that they'll come back."

Alfred grew quiet, leaning against his chair as his thoughts came to Clovis, Kojo and Hannibal. Being trapped inside their tiny cells as they endured the howls and curses of angry spirits.

"What of the Abyss?" John broke him out of his thoughts. "Where did that come from?"

"It's always been there…in the deepest depths of the ocean like that goddess Tiamat. Some even think it's another grate between the Earth Plane and the Spirit World. Yet that would mean it hasn't always been there."

"And Tiamat, Kuk and Achlys were never sealed or claimed…"

Alfred thought for a moment, "They could have been played by the same spirit-like with any gods or goddesses related to the Earth were automatically tossed to Ava."

"Then it's just as I thought, Iya goes by those names as well," John concluded. "But these gods didn't have a form does that mean Iya does?"

Alfred groaned and yanked at his hair in frustration, "goddammit! We are just back where we started!" He slammed his head on the desk and muttered, "This sucks."

"I'll figure it out-"

"It's not your job to figure it out!" Alfred snapped.

"Yes, it is!" John rose to his feet, his hands curled into tight, shaking fists. "Iya is after my granddaughter. I wasn't strong enough to stay on Earth so I have do everything I can from here."

The blond fell silent as he watched John sink back into his chair, "I know that Amy and I are different. She's thousands upon thousands of years older than me apparently…" he tried to laugh but his voice failed him. "I took part in raising her in her nation life. I watched as she became the person she is today but I can't help but think would she have been better off not being a nation. If she just stayed here…maybe, just maybe she would be safe."

"Another spirit would have taken her place and I still would've given them to you."

John glared, "Why couldn't you have been stronger? Why would you or any of the ancients infect such a life on them?"

Alfred sighed, his shoulders slumped back as he leaned into his chair. "They chose to become a nation."

"Yes, but you could've said no and sent her back!"

"Iya's motives involve all of us, so it's not like she would've have been totally safe-"

"But she would be prepared! She would have magick and fighting skills! She's defenseless on Earth!"

"She's got the other nations," Alfred said calmly. "She's being trained and she even held her own against immortals. She's learning and growing stronger each day."

"But is it enough?" John exclaimed and the spirit fell silent once more. The native man closed his eyes, "why," he asked. "Why would she become a nation?"

Alfred bit his bottom lip, preparing himself for John's impending wrath, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?!" John shouted. "She took your place!"

"Yes, but I didn't know about being a spirit when she came to me." Alfred said to his defense. "I thought I would take part in raising her myself, like with Feker did with Elene-"

"Who is Elene?!"

"The current Ethiopia, Feker's sister and successor," the blond rambled. "She came into play with the empire dissolved in the early twentieth century but Feker was able to stick around for a bit to take care of her-"

"And you thought you would do that for Amy?"

"Yes-"

"Then why didn't you?!" John interrupted.

"I don't know!" Alfred slammed his fists on the table and took a moment to contain his frustration and anger. "You don't think I tried? I tried to stay. I wanted to stay. I wanted to raise her. I wanted her."

John was taken back at his comment, no doubt recalling Alfred's sad gaze whenever he looked at John's family photos.

"But I couldn't," he admitted. "Some predecessors could stay to raise their successors, like Romulus and Feker but others can't. I was one of the one's that couldn't. None of us know why…it something that just happens."

"But why?" John questioned, his tone softer than before, "is it something to do with strength? Stability? Or is it just fate?"

Alfred shook his head, "I don't know."

"Then did the other spirits know-"

"No. Not even Nina," Alfred replied, "she just jumped. She surprised everyone; she was the last spirit anyone would've thought to become a nation. She didn't like them."

"She didn't like the nations?" John questioned, his face twisted into a skeptical expression.

"She didn't like the concept of them," Alfred explained. "She thought they were just as bad as the gods and monsters. Their minds are wiped so they don't remember each other before…but we do.

"Imagine; friends, some as close as family-fighting each other. Hurting each other, nearly ripping each other apart in battle. The reasons behind it vary but most were just cruel and senseless. Some of us just couldn't watch… Amy was one of them.

"She despised the nations and what they had become…she, Nina and a few other spirits had even joined Gisli's campaign to end personifications of countries and pull their friends out before it got worse. This was around the Middle Ages, so yeah it was pretty bad." He sighed, "But Ava wouldn't do it, she had made a promise to them to keep them on Earth as long as they wanted and she attended to keep it.

"Of course, the argument was only met with the nations not knowing there was a way out. Amy was the most vocal about it. Saying that they weren't the spirits they once knew, that they were becoming different people…" Alfred raised his head, feeling a sense of pride when he said, "But that wasn't true. Arthur was a sarcastic pain in the ass before becoming a nation and Francis loved all things beautiful even before becoming a snotty Frenchman.

"Even me. The reason I became a nation was to stop them from fighting. I was tired of watching them hurt each other and I was tired of watching Mattie cry. So, when Karen began to disappear Mattie and I took our chance." He huffed as a tiny, tight lipped smile took form, "I remember that day… Amy screaming and begging for us not to go but we did anyway, making a promise that we would stop the violence."

He combed his hands through his hair as Amy's cries from centuries past pounded in his ears. "But I didn't. I joined in and made everything worse. The Revolution, the Civil War, the World Wars, Vietnam… Yup, I did awesome," the last statement dipped with sarcasm.

"I guess she thought that I had lost sight of it. I tried to stop the fighting, I cared for my fellow nations…maybe a little too much but I just wanted to help. I wanted to help the lost spirits find their way. I wanted to stop my friends from fighting and the other half to stop crying." He blinked back the tears, "but I only made things worse. Nina made sure to give me a good punch in the face the second I came back."

He squeezed his eyes shut before saying, "she said I only left a bigger mess for Amy to clean up before storming off. I didn't fight her. She was in pain…because to her, Amy… her Amy had died that day."

"But she didn't die that day! Her life is in danger now and I don't have time to raise your self-esteem!" John exclaimed, slamming a hand on the table, "yes, you messed up but who hasn't? Nobody is perfect. Not you. Not the spirits. Not the nations. And definitely not people. We are creatures that learn the hard way. We need to break a few eggs before we get something right, granted we need to fuck up a shit ton of eggs before getting anything right but we try. Isn't that what you told me? That if we keep trying and pushing for a better outcome, for better a world it still counts.

"So, stop with your self-loathing, pity party and get a fucking grip!"

Alfred blinked and John panted, his breathing short and quick at first. Then as he began to take in longer periods of air, he began to laugh. "God. I haven't talked like that since I was a kid."

That snapped the blond back, causing him to grin, "Have you seen yourself? You look like your seventeen."

"Hey, this is what I looked like when I was in my twenties," John mentioned.

Alfred mockingly studied him, "oh yeah, you didn't have hair back then."

"Oh, ha, ha, ha, glad we can laugh about that now huh?"

Alfred raised his brows and grinned even wider as he and John laughed even more. This laughter cuts through the tension, easing them back into a peaceful silence. "I'm sorry," John proclaimed, "I didn't mean to get so emotional."

"This involves Amy, involves our family and friends, if this is not the time to get emotional; when is?" Alfred remarked.

John smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, "…. I'm scared Al. I'm scared for Amy. I'm scared for my family. I mean Aponi is teaching Blair and Blake magick," he shook his head. "I'm terrified," he took in a shaky breath, "and I don't know what to do."

Alfred was quiet for moment till a spark of brilliance lit behind his crystal blue eyes, "I know someone that can help."

---

Alfred led John to the dormitories on the far left-side wall, beside the Roman Hall and across the Ottoman Dome. They entered through a side door and scaled up the stairs taking two at a time. They were met with a series of corridors filled with doors of every shape and color. These vibrant, whimsically doors were tall, short, round, and oval. Some were long dis-proportioned rectangles while others were perfectly straight, French garden gates. There were entries made of crystal, titanium plated hatches and sliding paper doors.

With the concept of space being somewhat ignored, these halls would literally stretch for miles. Direction was greatly ignored; these halls would take spirits up and down, and from left to right without stairs or attached corridors. One spirit could start on the bottom floor on the right hand wall (possibly near the front entrance) and find themselves on a fifth level of the left side with the Ottoman Dome right outside their window.

"This is irritating," John muttered through his clutched teeth.

"The dorms are connected." Alfred simply stated, "It's easier for us to stay close and keep tabs on each other."

"Have you ever heard of functional stair cases, elevators and room numbers? You know, structure?" John remarked.

Alfred chuckled, "Spirits don't usually get lost. If they need to find someone, they seek them out with their aura. Call upon their friends or their door. You've done it before."

"Because I couldn't find my room," John exclaimed. "It turns out that the rooms change places. Now why the hell would rooms need to change places?!"

Alfred shrugged.

John glared, "do you even know where you're going."

"Yes…. I think."

Before John could snap at him, Alfred saved his ass by shouting 'ah-ha' and sprinted for a simple red door. He knocked and the door swung inwards, revealing a familiar face.

The man was much younger now than when Alfred had first met Vincent Barbaret. His dark skin no longer sagged and wrinkled but vibrant and smooth. His dreads shorter, coming at mid-back but they were thicker. He was taller now as well, with lean muscle and a straight posture he was more than happy to tower over Alfred. Even if it was only an inch or two.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Alfred F. Jones," Vincent fell against the frame, crossing his arms. "What brings you here old friend?"

"We need your help," said Alfred.

"Last time I heard that I ended up dead," Vincent remarked but his words held no real venom. He grinned as his dark eyes slid to John, "Oh how rude of me not to introduce myself." Vincent then proceeded to remove his worn brown cowboy hat and place it over his heart, "I am Vincent Barbaret, at your service."

John extended his hand, "John Hawkfeather."

"A pleasure," Vincent smiled and then jerked his chin towards Alfred. "Now what did this fool get you into?"

"Hey, who said it was my fault?" argued Alfred.

"Isn't it always," Vincent smirked as he flopped his hat back into place, "trouble follows you Monsieur."

He gestured for them to enter and Alfred instantly caught the scent of French lavender and vanilla. The space was massive with mahogany hardwood floors and white walls. A decorative Turkish rug was laid out in the living room as a dark red love seat and matching plush chairs were placed around a simple coffee table. On the right was an elevated open concept room with bay windows and a small table set in the center. The walls were covered with bookshelves and spice cabinets as drawer sets were positioned below. Each drawer was labeled with either flowers, herbs, stones, crystals or oils. On the left was a gourmet kitchen with the same elevated design and curved walls.

"Is that necessary?" John pointed a thumb at the kitchen, "We don't need to eat."

"We don't need to eat but we can. I love to eat and being dead won't change that," Vincent strides for the stove. "How about I make ya'll some fried catfish and hush puppies," he offered.

"Oh, hell yes!" Alfred jumped for a stool at the table in the center.

Before he could relax into his seat, Vincent raised a brow, "your friend certainly has a knack for the evil eye."

Alfred blinked in confusion and turned to find John looming over him with crossed arms and a vicious glare. "Have you forgotten why we're here," this was a statement not question.

"No," Alfred whimpered and spun to face Vincent, "Sorry Vince; another time?"

Vincent waved it off and grabbed the kettle, "tea then?"

"Perfect," Alfred smiled as John nodded.

Vincent filled the kettle from the tap and placed it on the stove, "so what can I do for you?"

"We want a reading," Alfred proclaimed. "And you are the only Seer I know."

"He's a Seer? You're a Seer?" John exclaimed.

Vincent sighed through his nose and narrowed his eyes at the blond, "Alfred."

"Relax Vince, Johnny won't tell a soul," he assured.

John reached for Vincent, grabbing his shoulders as he rambled, "You're a Seer! You can see what happens! Please tell me, will Amy be okay? Will my family be okay?"

"Okay, one: back up," Vincent shoved him off. "Two: there are different types of Seers, some could see only one or two possible outcomes. Others could see thousands. Some could see the past while others see the future-sometimes both. Some can close their eyes and see an outcome while others need to channel their powers through crystal balls and tarot cards. Guess what? I'm the latter."

John blinked and gripped his hands together, "I'm sorry."

Alfred could feel the poor man's anxiety, "Vince, our friends and family are in danger and we have no idea what to do. I need you to clear a path for us, please," he pleaded. "We need you."

The voodooist paused before snapping his fingers and a drawer from the parlor room burst open. Large, colorful cards swarm the tiny room; swirling and churning in mid-air, dancing in a sequence of an organized chaos.

Vincent strolled into the storm and the cards slowed, floating down to his out stretched hand. "Take a seat gentlemen," he snapped his fingers once more and conjured two chairs.

Alfred and John took their seats across from him as he shuffled his deck once more for good measure. "A simple a three card reading or a Celtic Cross?" he asked.

"Celtic Cross," Alfred answered.

Vincent nodded and slapped a card on the table with another card on top of it. He moved the second card on its side and then placed a card on each side of the first one. One on the right, left, above and below; then four more were added beside the cross.

He set the deck aside, "let's begin," he slid the second card off the first and flipped that said card up. It displayed a young man, skipping along a cliff with a white dog running behind him. "Heh," Vincent smirked, "the Fool."

Alfred immediately felt John's eyes on him, "of course."

"Okay. Okay. I'm a fool, I know," Alfred muttered and waved his hand over the cards. "Continue, please."

Vincent chuckled, "alright, alright... The first card represents the present and shows the current state of mind of the querent. The Fool represents intoxication, delirium and frenzy… I believe the last word fits you two rather well. I mean, ya do seem stressed."

Alfred and John shared a knowing glance before Alfred remarked, "you have no idea."

The Seer nodded and turned the second card over, he was met with the Moon. A shiver ran down Alfred's spine as a quick intake of air passed through Vincent's lips.

"This is the same card I showed you back in the seventies," Vincent recalled.

"Yeah, it was my future back then…" Alfred remarked.

"Now it's your challenge," Vincent scorned. "You mean to tell me you didn't settle this already?"

"I thought I did, you know with the hunters and the witches-"

"Well clearly it wasn't that," Vincent retorted.

"Can someone let me into the loop here?" John interjected.

Alfred snapped a quick glance to John as Vincent sighed, "The Moon represents evil and darkness. Look to the scorpion, it is the creature that emerges from the abyss, taking form."

"Iya," John breathed.

Vincent raised a curious brow, "I've heard that name around the Library. What in God's name are we dealing with?"

"We," Alfred couldn't help but smirk, "does that mean you're in?"

Vincent made a face, "I have half a mind to throw you two out and throw away the key. But if the Moon is the challenge, it not only affects you but all of us."

"Whose 'all of us'?" asked John.

Vincent muttered a curse, "the spirits, the humans-at least that's what the wolf and the dog represent. But if we're already freaking out over the first two cards I'm kinda nervous about the rest."

He sucked air through his teeth and grabbed his head, massaging his temple, "damn."

"Are you alright?" John reached for him and Vincent waved him back.

"Tea. I need tea."

At that moment the kettle whistled and John rose to retrieve it. Alfred watched as John hurried into the kitchen, pulled three cups from cabinet and called out for which tea. Vincent ordered for chamomile and Alfred asked for the same.

He then turned his attention back on the Seer, "what's wrong?"

"The cards," Vincent muttered, "they won't let me go. I need to read them."

"I'm sorry," said Alfred, "I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

"I had a feeling you were going to visit me Alfred. If I didn't want to be part of this, I would've put wards up to keep you from finding me."

Alfred huffed out a chuckle as John bought a tray of three prepared cups to the table. They thanked him for the tea and took tiny sips as Vincent moved on to the next card to the right. "The Ten of Cups in reverse means indignation, violence and a serious quarrel."

"That's supposed to represent the past right?" Alfred inquired.

"Violence and a serious quarrel," John repeated. "Like a battle or a war?"

"But which?" Alfred added, "my past, being spirit or nation was pretty violent."

"I think you're only a part of it," Vincent implied and flipped the card on the left.

It was a picture of a man dressed in armor as two sphinxes sat below him, "The Chariot," Vincent proclaimed. "It represents triumph, vengeance and war."

John swallowed, "war? With Iya?"

Vincent nodded, "most likely."

"This is bad," Alfred muttered under his breath.

Vincent reached for the card above the Fool and turned it over to a man riding a horse, wielding a stick as five more followed suite. "Six of Wands translates roughly to the victor wining-meaning us."

"Oh, finally some good news," said Alfred.

"Yes, but the above card only represents the goal of the querent, doesn't necessary mean you'll win," explained Vincent.

"Nice to know you believe in us," the blond countered sarcastically.

Vincent rolled his eyes and flipped the card below the Fool. The card was vibrant with a wheel in the center as a sphinx sat on top and four other mythical beasts soared around it. "The Wheel of Fortune, means destiny and luck."

"That's good," the blond smiled but was met with Vincent's uneasy gaze. "Right?"

Vincent shook his head, "the below card represents the querent's inner mind or self but with the challenge, past, future and above cards being what they are it only reveals that there are more people involved. Destiny is threading these people together, assigning roles to each of them."

Both Alfred and John remained silent as Vincent proceeded to the four cards that had aligned the cross. He started with the bottom card, reveling an elderly man dressed in armor and robes. "The Emperor represents stability, power, protection, and realization…the placement of the card is meant to be advice."

"So, is the universe telling us to be stable? To have power? To protect? To realize something?" Alfred bombarded his questions, each one becoming more hectic than the last.

Vincent ignored his tone, "Possibly all four."

"Oh, wonderful," Alfred laced his words with the harshest form of venom.

John nodded to the eightieth card, "let's move on."

The next card displayed a crying woman on a bed with swords over her, "the Nine of Swords in reverse, means suspicion, doubt, reasonable fear, shame and imprisonment. The eightieth placement is meant to show the people or events that will affect the outcome…but being that its doubt, fear and suspicion. It doesn't look to good for us." He paused, "It also only proves my theory of more people being involved."

Alfred combed his hands through his hair, "but who?"

Vincent smiled, "well, I am certain on one."

"Who?" Alfred asked again.

Vincent chuckled and John shook his head, "it's you, you idiot. Hello the Fool was the first card showed."

"Oh," Alfred muttered and rubbed a hand behind his burning neck.

John sighed and mumbled a 'we're doomed' under his breath as Vincent flipped the ninth card over. The card was upside down and pictured a dark woman dressed in fine robes, holding a pentagram in her hands.

"The Queen of Pentacles in reverse means suspense, evil and mistrust and with the card's placement of representing our hopes and fears well…"

Alfred groaned, "I'm guessing this card mostly represents our fears."

"Darkness thrives off it," Vincent stated. "Fear, mistrust, violence and doubt, this all feeds the scorpion."

John eyed the last card, "what does that placement mean?"

"The outcome; don't get it confused with the future placement. The future placement is not the final outcome, the tenth one is." Vincent turned the last card over and froze.

Alfred clutched his jaw, "oh fuck."

The card was displayed in dark colors of a lightning bolt striking a tower, setting it ablaze as two men fell to their deaths.

"What does this one mean?" John asked in trembling tone.

The Seer locked eyes with John and Alfred, "catastrophe."

"But the Chariot is right side up," John argued, "that means triumph, right?"

"Yes, but it's also the promise of war, and with these four cards being what they are," Vincent gestured over the four cards beside the cross. "The odds are not in our favor."

Alfred banged his fist on the table, "dammit."

Vincent reached for his temples and began to massage them.

"Vince, what's wrong?" Alfred asked concerned.

He covered his eyes becoming sensitive to the light, "that card has something to say."

"What card? Which one?" John questioned.

"Not the ones here," he moved to the deck. "It's a blank card. One that appeared a year back. It-" he paused, processing his words. "It changes-shows me different pictures each day. Things that have happen, will happen or probably never will."

Alfred didn't hesitant, "let us see it."

Vincent shuffled through his deck and set the card before them. It was blank at first but as Vincent instructed to wait the white began to fade into black. Small, delicate lines appeared taking the shape of feathers as the picture shivered and the wing shot out, revealing white feathers inside.

That wasn't all that was revealed.

A beast with gigantic black and white wings, deer hind legs, and a pair of jagged antlers took center stage. Its lower half was completely covered in dark fur as the upper was coated in black and white feathers. It had massive hooves, sharp talons and a curve tipped beck but its eyes were still human.

"What is that thing?" John exclaimed.

"A chimera," Alfred proclaimed. "A Level Four."

Vincent shook his head, "it's not a Level Four."

"Vince, this chimera was fused with a human," Alfred emphasized.

"I'm not saying you're wrong about that," Vincent looked to the beast. "It's just...this chimera feels different."

"A chimera? Like in Greek mythology?" John interrupted. "But this doesn't look like anything from the books."

"There are different types of chimeras; these creatures are animals fused together to create new beasts," Alfred summarized. "There are four levels: Level One and Level Two are chimeras created from DNA splicing. The differences between the two are based on power and life expectancy. Level Ones tend to live for a few months to year while a Level Two could live up to three. Level Threes are old school; it's when fully grown, live animals are fused together," he shook his head. "It's not a pretty process. Level Fours are chimeras created with human and animal fusion. These beasts could only live for a few months, depending on what kind of strain their put through."

"It's not a Level Four," Vincent repeated.

"Look at its eyes," Alfred remarked, his tone filled with justified anger and compassion. "It was a person."

"I'm not it saying it wasn't," Vincent shouted in frustration. "I'm saying this thing isn't an average Level Four chimera!"

"Guys! The card!" John exclaimed and they snapped their attention back to the card.

The beast's wings flapped and took flight, soaring through a dark skyline as the Eiffel Tower stood in the distance.

Alfred leaned forward, "Is that Paris?!"

The beast made a sharp turn as if in pursuit.

John squinted his eyes in concentration, "I think it's chasing something."

Its wings flapped faster, picking up speed and gaining distance on a small blue bird. Alfred looked closer, spotting the bird's white underbelly and black stripes; it was a blue jay. The bird beats its wings faster, but no matter how hard the bird pushed it couldn't escape the beast. With one outstretched hand, the chimera snatched the bird. Its talons digging into the bird's flesh with one squeeze. The bird cried out as it struggled against the beast's hold. Blood leaked from its wounds but it continued to fight, freeing a wing in the process.

The picture froze when the chimera immediately grabbed that wing and tore it off.

Alfred rubbed his eyes, "okay, what the hell does that mean?"

Vincent thought for a moment, "A blue jay means gossip, arrogance and selfishness but it's also quick to adapt-"

"Ella," John said in a trembling voice. "Her guide is a blue jay. This thing is after Ella."

---

The earth shook under my feet.

Sending me back first into the snow.

Astrid rose above me, her body whole.

Till it tore like paper.

Blood splattered and pooled, staining the white powder red.

A dark figure sprinted, leaving a trial of bodies behind.

Each dropping like flies.

Till Mara appeared behind Arthur.

His head flew and I screamed-

My eyes snapped opened, meeting the sun's rays that broke through a window. I groaned at the light and turned onto my back, blinking up to a white ceiling and wallpapered walls. At that moment, I didn't care where I ended up or how I got there. All I wanted to do was sleep. I turned away from the light and curled into myself, hugging my shoulders as a form of comfort.

My stomach had other ideas.

It growled and I cursed in annoyance, refusing to leave my warm bed. My nose seeking food, caught the whiff of cinnamon and I sat up in defeat. Plush, ivory chairs and a small, iron table set were placed at one corner of the room, where a hot meal was waiting for me. I rose off the queen sized bed and flinched when my bare feet made contact with the cold, hardwood floors. I found a pair of fluffy slippers and a matching robe at the foot of the bed. Feeling the chill in the air, I put them on and reached for my breakfast. The croissant was warm and the milk was still cold, so I figured whoever had left it was here just recently.

The clock on the wall informed me that it was eight-thirty and judging by the natural light, it was morning. I scanned the room, taking note of the white double doors and shelves on the opposite wall of the bed. A turquoise vanity on the left side of that bed and a pair of massive windows that doubled as door on the right. Another door stood just inch away. It was too wide to be closet and when I opened it, I wasn't too surprised to find a parlor room.

It was painted in a light shade of ivory with high ceilings and white tile floor. A single cream colored couch was placed on the left, its back facing a pair of glass doors and a window that stretched from floor to ceiling. Two matching chairs were on the right with a dark coffee table in the center. A huge mirror sat above the chimney and another, just as large was placed between the windows.

I closed the door and looked to the shelves beside me; each shelf was filled with books, picture frames and decorative figures of horses. The books were mostly written in French but some were in English; the genres ranged from bios to fairy tales. Most of the frames held pictures of Matthew and Arthur others contained photos of Antonio, Gilbert, and other various nations but each photo had one thing in common: Francis. He was in every image; either setting up the camera from a distance or holding his phone at arm's length.

He has a thing for selfies, I smiled at the thought.

Then on the bottom shelf in a back corner was a lone picture of Alfred. It was dated, probably taken in late nineties early two-thousands but it was well kept in a simple brown frame. He was leaning against a bridge, grinning widely at the camera almost as if he was seconds away from blissful laughter.

Next to the image was a recent photo of me in Rome, overlooking the Seven Hills. I wasn't looking at the camera, with only the side of my face being shown. Yet, anyone looking at the picture could tell I was at peace as a calm breeze blew through my hair and a small smile graced my lips.

Beside my picture was a note:

Dear Amy,

I do hope you love the room. I personally designed it with you in mind.

There might be too many pictures of me, but is that even possible? There can never be too many pictures of me.

I rolled my eyes and kept reading:

I don't know if you noticed but there is another room on your left. Don't worry, you can lock the door so no one can bother you. The closet is on the right, I put your bag inside and Lithuania left your iPod on the vanity.

I think he's sweet on you.

My dear Amy you must have inherited my allure to have Romano, Denmark and Lithuania to be so smitten with you…maybe you should get that bat.

I laughed, "Maybe."

Anyway, look out the door. I gave you the best view.

I raised a curious brow, walked to the glass door and pulled back the curtain.

My jaw dropped, "oh my god."

Just outside my window was the Eiffel Tower; and this was no black outline far off in the distance. The structure was literally only a few miles away from me, I could practically walk to the tower if I wanted to.

I opened the door; ignoring the cold and light layer of snow that covered the balcony. I soon realized that the balcony was actually a terrace, stretching to the parlor room and beyond; wrapping around the entire house. Naked trees were scattered along the area, giving us a bit of privacy but I could still hear the traffic of the city.

"It's nice huh?"

I jumped at the voice and spun to find Matthew at my door with Kumajirou at his feet.

"Oh," I inhaled, "damn Mattie you scared me."

"Oh, I scared you," Matthew chided. "Just as you scared me when I called your phone thirty-two times."

His voice was calm, which made his sentence far more harsh and bone-chilling. I clasped my hands together and stared at my feet, avoiding his piercing violet eyes. Before I could whimper out an apology. Matthew pulled me into a warm hug, squeezing me for an extra measure.

"Don't scare me like that," he whispered. "Please, just call back-you don't have to explain. Just-just let me know you're okay."

I swallowed, feeling a lump grow in the back of my throat, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Mattie."

He nodded, accepting the apology as he and I clinged to each other but I could only handle the cold for so long.

"Um, Mattie," I poked his shoulder, "I'm cold."

He snapped his head up, gestured me back inside and closed the door behind him. "I forget, you're not so used to this kind of weather."

"Well I didn't grow up in the North Pole," I joked.

"Funny," he quipped.

I smiled and sat at the foot of my bed, "so…is this Francis' house?"

"Yeah," Matthew nodded, "it's a duplex overlooking the gardens of Champs de Mars."

"A duplex? Is this the top floor?"

"Yup. It has six rooms, four baths, a gourmet kitchen and a huge living room. Right now Francis is having the place decked out for the party."

"A party? What party?" I asked, confused.

"A New Year's Eve party, it's tonight."

"I spelt for an entire day?!" I blurted.

Matthew simply nodded.

"But, how did I get here?"

"By plane," he answered smoothly. "Francis asked Mikkel to tell Arthur to meet us in Paris. He and I left Berwald's place once we knew you and Arthur were okay. Francis then sent an invitation to the European nations for his annual party."

I gave him a look, "Did Arthur not tell him what happened Scotland?"

Sensing my irritation, he answered in a low tone, "he did but-"

"That idiot," I hissed under my breath as I leaped off my bed and stomped out the door.

I strut down the hall, checking every room along the way as I muttered every curse word I knew. I almost made a complete lap around the duplex before finding him in the kitchen. It was an open concept with a spacious living room attached to it. The room, like everywhere else in the duplex was surrounded by windows and designed with the French country side in mind, with an added vintage touch.

The scent of baked goods engulfed the air but it didn't lessen my anger. "You must be the biggest idiot on this fucking planet!"

"Good morning to you too, Amy," Francis didn't bat an eye to my tone as he pulled a freshly baked cake roll from the oven.

"There are three immortal witches that are out to get us and you thought inviting all the European nations to a party was a good idea?!"

"To be fair, I had this party planned before all this," he mentioned.

"That doesn't matter," I exclaimed.

He slammed the cooking tray on the stove and removed his gloves, "yes, it does." He spun meeting my gaze with fierce determination. "We are having a party."

"We can have one next year, you know, when are lives are not in danger!"

He snorted, "When are they not? Amy, you cannot live your life in fear."

"Does immortal witches mean anything to you?!" I shouted. "One of them can make earthquakes and turn into a Cat Woman-literally. Another controls water and sees into the damn future. Oh, and let's not forget Abigail; who can fly, breathe fire and is a complete psychopath! Most likely brought back from the dead and hell-bent on killing me and everyone I love. Which includes you, you idiot!"

He blinked, taken by surprise, "you love me?"

"Of course, I do! You know that."

He sighed, avoiding my eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck, "you don't usually say it. Not the way you say it to Jessica and John."

My eyes widened, feeling my heart squeeze at the mention of my parents' names. I tried to speak but the lump from before had appeared again.

"Just once," he said, "I wanted to have a happy memory with you."

"Y-you do," I assured.

"Yes," he agreed unwillingly, "but they all involve your family."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, "but-but you like my family?"

"I do. Truly, but," he paused. "I'm a selfish man Amy, and once, just this once I wanted to make you happy. You spent Christmas Eve witnessing the aftermath of a massacre, breaking a blood spell and almost being killed by a witch. The next day, you run off with Denmark looking for Lithuania and then get snowed in at some church with a fake priest and was almost killed by Abigail; again." He was slipping from English to French, his voice rising higher with each sentence.

"Then you come home-distraught; you won't talk or leave your room and when you do, you're assaulted by a group of men you supposedly met in Berlin. Next-you're gone. Off with Arthur and Norway to Scotland and almost dying, again." He emphasized, "Then as if to spite me, you don't answer your phone! Leaving me to think of the worse!"

He stopped; taking a shaky breath as he hid his face in his hands. I reached for him but I held back, not certain on what to do or what to say.

As my hand returned to my side Francis looked up, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "I was so worried. Amy, I thought-I thought-"

"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I-I didn't know how to explain about Arthur being…"

"Beheaded." he finished. "Amy that's nothing new-"

"Well I'm not used to it okay!" I screamed at first but I forced myself to take a quick breath. "I-I've never seen someone I love die…not like that and not in front of me…not-not since Grandpa…"

I didn't realize I was crying till Francis glided his hands over my cheeks, wiping them away with his thumbs. "I'm sorry," I choked, "I'm sorry I didn't call. I'm sorry for worrying you. I'm sorry for ruining Christmas-"

"No, no," he soothed, kissing my forehead as he pulled me into a hug. "You didn't ruin anything."

"B-but-"

"Hush," he whispered, threading his fingers through my curls. "That's why this party is so important to me. I want to make you happy. I want you to have fun. I want…" he paused, nudging his nose into the side of my head. "I want to make memories with you."

I squeezed my eyes closed and leaned into his embrace. A part of me wanting to let go and roll with Francis' whims but a wiser half wasn't going to hear it. This inner turmoil churned in the pit of my stomach causing me to groan out loud.

Francis pulled back, his expression concerned, "what's wrong? Are you still hungry? I can whip you up something."

"No, no, I'm okay," I lied, and breathed a long sigh. "Let's have a party," I smiled, admitting defeat.

Francis' eyes widened at first, then they crinkled as a gigantic, toothy grin spread from ear to ear. He was practically beaming with light and joy, "Oh yes, yes!" He yanked me back in for a tight hug.

"Is it safe to come in?" Matthew peeked in from the corner.

"Yes, yes," Francis assured, smiling with a new found light in his eyes. "And I have the perfect dress for you! Wait here! Wait here!"

Once he was out of earshot, I slumped into a chair at the kitchen's table. "I'm so going to regret this."

"Maybe this is a good time as any to give you this," Matthew held a red box in his hands, wrapped in a gold bow. "Merry…delated Christmas?" he said uncertainly.

I gave a small smile and took the gift with a quiet thank you. Before I opened mine, I asked, "Did you like yours?"

"Yes," he replied, "now opened it!"

"A Canadian being pushy, never thought I'd see the day," I teased and untied the ribbon.

Inside were freshly made pointe shoes.

"Oh my god," I squealed. "Are they-are they from-"

He nodded, "They're from the same shoe company you buy from. Your mom told me that your last pair had seen better days."

I jumped on him, hooking my arms around his neck, "thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

He laughed, patting my back, "I'm guessing you like them."

"Like them? Mattie, I love them! And I'm pretty sure my feet want to make sweet, beautiful love to you!"

He laughed even harder, "I'm sorry, I'm not into feet."

I giggled, briefly remembering when I tried dancing on pointe without the support of pointe shoes back at Church Allen. "Let's just say it's not easy to dance on pointe without these babies," I caressed the pink satin and grinned. "Thanks Matt. This means a lot, really."

Matthew grinned as Francis announced, "here we are!" He was carrying a huge black and white box with the Chanel logo on the front.

He presented the box, his face beaming, "Merry Christmas Amy."

I nodded my thanks and opened my gift to find a white, short sleeved dress covered in fine, detailed gold lace. It was backless with a single string of pearls down the center, connecting to a zipper on the lower back to a pearl button at the top of the collar. The front of the dress revealed nothing but the delicate lace of flowers and ivory vines; which spreads to decorate the entire skirt. The skirt was thin and flowed with ease around the mid-thigh.

"Oh wow," I gasped. "Francis, it's beautiful."

"Of course, it is. It's Chanel. Now go put it on! I want to see it!"

It was his day, so I didn't complain as I walked back to my room.

---

Francis watched as Amy turned the corner, "oh she's going to look so beautiful."

"Yeah…but I have to agree with her though. Papa this is not a good idea," Matthew claimed.

"Don't worry Matthieu," Francis reassured. "I have already taken precautions."

"What kind of precautions?"

"I asked Angleterre to put up-how you say…a ward around the house. Well to be honest I didn't want it but he wouldn't let me have the party without it."

Matthew sighed, "You know you should've opened with that. So, what is this ward supposed to ward off?"

"Anyone with ill intent, that's what Arthur said," Francis answered with nonchalant shrug.

"You do realize that Gil could easily fall in that category, right?"

"I personally told him to be on his best behavior."

Matthew arched a brow, "and when has he ever listened to you?"

Francis narrowed his eyes, "you used to be so cute. I blame Arthur for your satirical skepticism."

"That's uncalled for, especially when I had just put up a ward for your bloody party."

Speak of the devil, Matthew sighed internally.

Arthur walked in from the terrace, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on a coat rack. "The ward covers the duplex and the surrounding area. It isn't much, about a twenty meter radius but it was all I could manage at short notice."

"No offense Arthur but how good are your wards?" asked Matthew.

The Englishman furrowed his brow in annoyance, "if you must know, Fiona and Dylan helped."

"Oh, thank god," Matthew mumbled under his breath.

"I heard that," Arthur quipped as he took Amy's seat.

"Well Arthur you haven't really been practicing," Francis added.

"I know," Arthur muttered into his hand as he massaged his temple. "I think it's time for me to take this more seriously."

Both Matthew and Francis stiffened, "it's that bad?" worried Francis.

"Heh," Arthur snorted darkly, "the Council won't help us, three powerful witches want our souls and even with Fiona, my brothers and Norway we were killed almost effortlessly. I'm afraid none of us are equipped to handle this."

They both grew silent, the tension growing thick as a small voice came from the corner.

"Um, Francis… I think the dress is too big," Amy mumbled.

That snapped the Frenchman out of his trance, "what? Let me see."

She stepped into the room, the dress hanging off her shoulders as the backless design revealed more than it attended to. Amy had to keep her arms pinned to her sides so the cloth would cover her front.

"Oh, I must've got the wrong size," he sighed and then snapped his fingers, "I'll call a tailor!"

She raised a brow, "they still exist?"

"Yes," he claimed. "Now go wait in the parlor room; he'll be here in ten minutes."

"How do you know-"

"Don't question me. Go, go, go."

Amy arched her brow even higher but she didn't question him. She spun back for the corner and Francis turned on Matthew, "Could I borrow your phone?"

"Why?"

"I need to make a call and I know he would pick up for you."

It finally clicked for Matthew, "He doesn't always pick up…" but he handed his phone anyway.

Francis gave an amusing grin and dialed a number.

Matthew and Arthur watched; one slightly nervous while the other was curious on how the situation would play out.

The phone picked up and Francis greeted, "Bonjour Romano!"

The phone clicked and Francis pouted, "He hung up on me."

"I would hung up on you too," Arthur remarked as he poured himself a cup of tea.

Francis spared a glare and handed Matthew back his phone. "I'll call Antonio," he pulled his smartphone from his pocket and tapped on the screen.

Francis would never admit it but he had terrible hearing, so he always kept the volume on the highest setting.

"Hola Francis," Antonio's cheery voice chirped from the speaker.

"Hello Antonio, is Romano with you?"

"Yes-"

"What does that snail-eating bastard want?!" Romano interrupted.

"Oh Roma, no need to be so rude," Antonio scolded and then asked Francis, "What do you need?"

"I need Romano to tailor a dress."

"A dress?"

"Oh God. Are you cross-dressing for the party?" Romano questioned, his tone harsh. "If so I'm not going."

"It's not for me this time," the Frenchman assured.

"When have you ever needed a dress?" Matthew asked confused.

Francis shot a flirtatious smile at Arthur and the said Englishman quickly looked away, hiding a blush behind his hand. "That's not important."

Matthew's thoughts spiraled, conjuring unwanted scenarios as to why Francis would need a dress and why Arthur had gone red at the mention of it. He shook his head, "you're right I don't want to know."

Francis chuckled and switched his focus back to Antonio, "It's for Amy. It seems that I got the wrong size for her and I know that Romano is quite skilled with a needle and thread so…" he paused for dramatic effect.

Matthew could just picture the two in their hotel room; Romano growing quiet as a light blush dusted his cheeks. While Antonio gave a knowing smile, the same one that Francis displayed at that very moment.

"Do you have supplies for him?" Antonio asked.

"Oui, I do."

"Then we'll be there in ten minutes," and then he whispered, "Make that five. Roma looks so cute when he's excited."

Francis grinned and pressed the red button, ending the call. "Oh young love," he sung.

"Young? The man's over two thousand years old," said Arthur.

"Oh hush, that does not matter," Francis waved him off. "Love is in the air!"

"If you ask me, I don't approve."

Francis glared, "No one did."

Arthur ignored his comment, "He's far too rash. Amy would only get impatient with him and then those two would end up fighting all the time. That doesn't make for a healthy relationship."

Matthew rolled his eyes, "Said the pot to the kettle."

---

Matthew had joined me in the parlor room shortly after with a tray of hot chocolate and vanilla macarons. I was grateful for the warm drink but it didn't do much against the cold. Even with the burning liquid running through my veins, I was still clutching on to the dress in a desperate attempt for warmth. "Is the heater even on?" I muttered through trembling teeth.

"Here," Matthew throws a blanket over my shoulders, "better?"

I tucked my legs to my chest, making sure that my body was completely covered by the woolly material. "Better… I guess."

"How did you ever handle Sweden?" Matthew chuckled. "Paris isn't nearly as cold."

"Well for one, I wasn't wearing a backless, mid-thigh Chanel dress," I said sarcastically.

"True," he replied and began to toss logs into the fireplace. He stuffed lint in between the wood and pulled out a lighter from his pocket. Once it caught fire, he proclaimed, "This should help."

I crawled to the end of the couch, trying to get as close to the flame as I could, "thanks."

He smiled as his phone vibrated, he quickly pulled out his phone and checked the screen. His smile broke into a happy, almost love-sick grin.

"Ooo," I wiggled my brows, "whose got you smiling like that for?"

Matthew looked away, embarrassed, "no one-it-it's a meme."

"Uh-huh," I raised a brow curiously, "let me see."

"G-give me a moment-"

"Give you a moment? You just got it."

"T-there's just somethings you don't need to see."

"Oh god, do you have naked pictures of yourself?"

"No!" he exclaimed, horrified by the thought.

"It's okay if you do, I won't judge," I snickered.

"Okay," he sighed in defeat, "it's a message from someone."

"Oh, oh, oh," I smirked. "Is it a girl? A guy? Someone that prefers to be neither?"

"It's a girl," he assured.

"Is it someone I know?"

"Yes," he said.

"So are you two just friends or…" I wiggled my eyebrows once more.

He shook his head at my behavior, "friends for the most part."

"But…" I added.

"No buts," he stated, "we're just friends."

"You don't smile like that if you're 'just friends'," I remarked.

"What do you want me to say? That I jump at every message hoping that's it her. That every time we spend together all I want to do is make her smile. That she was one of the few that remembered me even when I was beside my brother." He paused, taking in a long, tired sigh, "When Al had disappeared, she was probably the only one I could really lean on. The only one that could make me bear the thought of my life without him."

My lips formed into a sad smile, "so when are you gonna tell her?"

He sighed again, "No, telling her would only make things complicated-"

"No!" I shouted and hurled a pillow at his face. I quickly grabbed another and began to repeatedly hit him with it, "No! That word will not be used! I am sick and tired of that word!"

"Okay, okay," he gripped the pillow aside, "stop hitting me already."

"Seriously Mattie," I panted, falling back onto the couch, "I'm tired of that word practically defining our lives."

"You don't understand-"

"I don't want to understand!" I interrupted. "Does she make you happy?"

"Amy-"

"Does she make you happy?" I repeated.

He was hesitant but answered, "Yes."

We grew quiet as we watched the fire crackle and a log split in two.

"Does she feel the same way?" I finally asked.

"I don't know," he reluctantly answered.

"Do you think there is a chance?"

He thought for a moment, "maybe."

"Then ask if she feels the same way, no harm in asking right?" When he made a face, I exclaimed, "Oh come on Mattie, someone should get laid tonight and it should be you."

"And I agree," Francis announced as he walked in.

"Oh god," Matthew hid his face in his hands, "how much did you hear?"

"Not much, just enough," he grinned as a familiar brunet followed him in.

"Lovino? What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I'm here to work on that dress," he remarked, titling his head to examine the side.

It hits me. The blanket had dropped the moment I had attacked Matthew; leaving me in a baggy dress that completely exposed my half naked side. "Lovi!" I screamed, yanking the cloth to cover myself.

He blinked as if registering what he was actually looking at. His gold eyes grew wide as his face flushed scarlet, "What? No! I wasn't looking-I mean, I was looking but I'm here as a professional."

Francis chuckled, pulling Matthew towards the door, "we'll leave you two be."

"Wait, Fran-" he shuts the door, "cis…"

I glanced back to Lovino and he in returned turned his gaze on me. I diverted my eyes, "so…you're a tailor?"

"Yes," he proclaimed, digging into a sewing box to avoid looking at me.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, contemplating on what to say next. "So…how you been?"

Seriously? Three minutes of thinking got you that?

He arched a brow as if he had shared the exact same thought. "I've been good but…" he hesitated, but, in the end, he only asked. "May I?" He nodded to the dress, displaying a pin cushion on his wrist.

"Oh, uh, yeah, um, could-could I stand at the fireplace," I blurted awkwardly.

"Yes, of course," he answered smoothly, gaining composure as a professional.

I stood before the flame, wiggling my toes at the warmth. Lovino stepped forward, pinching the shoulders of the dress up.

"This needs to be pinned up," he stated calmly, yanking two needle point pins from the cushion and stabbing them into the fabric.

"Obviously," I joked, trying lighten the mood.

He cracked a smile, "yes, we certainly don't want you flashing anyone else."

"Hey, I wasn't the one peeking," I countered.

"I was estimating the damage," he argued, "a completely different thing."

"Uh-huh, sure," I smirked.

He rolled his eyes, "that is how my master taught me," he said as he pinned another section of fabric together.

My eyebrows rose, "Master? Lovi I didn't know you were into that sort of thing."

"It wasn't like that," he exclaimed, his cheeks flushing pink. "You've been hanging around France for too long."

"Is that a bad thing," I winked.

He grinned and just like that the awkwardness faded away. I relaxed my shoulders, feeling like I had done something right for once.

"So, is that how you became a tailor? Because of your master?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Well in the beginning, I would stitch or patch up holes in Spain's clothing. The man was in battle constantly when I was young; would come home with torn shirts and ripped pants." He huffed, "thank god he had enough sense to wear armor."

"Aw, I can just imagine little angry Lovi sitting in the corner as he pricked himself with a needle trying to sew up Antonio's clothes," I giggled, giving him my most innocent smile.

He narrowed his eyes, "hey I got the hang of it and I was a very cute kid by the way."

"I'm sure you were," I pinched his cheek.

He shook it off, "You can ask Antonio-I was adorable."

"Dude all I'm picturing is a little Lovi glaring at Antonio for doing something stupid." I shook my head, "not cute at all."

"He's always doing something stupid," he said to his defense.

As we spoke, he kept working; adjusting and readjusting the garment in steady precision. I studied his hands as he kneeled before me, measuring the hem of the skirt. "This will rise when I hitch up the waist. Nothing much, just a centimeter or two."

"That's fine," I tapped my heel, a question bouncing inside my head. "Who was your master?"

He blinked, taken by surprise, "oh, um… God this is embarrassing. I-I don't remember," he finally answered. "I had gotten my apprenticeship back in the seventieth century. I had the appearance of an adolescent and I had connections thanks to Austria." He paused, his eyes falling into a daze, "He lived in Naples; he was old but skilled. I think he told me once that his mother was a seamstress."

His hands slowed and his eyes closed, "I remember his hands, his stitch work…it was always so clean and smooth." He opened his eyes and stared into the fabric, caressing the pattern with his thumb. "Sometimes, I could feel him looking over my shoulder, watching me work. His voice used to be so clear; 'Lovino, watch that stitch work.' 'Lovino, the seam is crooked, do it again.' 'Lovino, that embroidery is terrible. That is not how I taught you.'"

He tried to laugh but it held no real warmth, "That man taught me everything I know." He paused again, his eyes glazing over in deep thought. "The least I could do is remember his name."

"Lovi…" I breathed, calling out to him as I slipped my hand into his hair.

He stirred as if waking from a dream; his gold eyes finding my blue. I combed my fingers through his locks, carefully avoiding his curl. Then as my hand slid to his cheek, he snatched it; nudging his face into my palm.

"That's what happens when you get old…," Lovino whispered, "You begin to forget names and faces," he squeezed his eyes shut, leaning against my hand. "No matter how hard you try, they just slip away."

A million thoughts whirled inside my head. Some were selfish; saying that I would never allow that to happen to me. Some were plans of action, like backing up family photos on multiple flash drives. Others simply couldn't comprehend the thought that I could end up like Lovino. That he had lived a life that was worth a hundred lifetimes but he couldn't even remember the name of his mentor.

I didn't know what to say so I decided that comfort was my best option. I caressed my thumb over his cheek bone, going back and forth in a steady rhythm. He responded with pressing his lips to my wrist.

The act caused goosebumps to spread up my arm and before I could pull away, he gripped my hand not at all rough but firm enough to hold me in place. His eyes bore into me, the gaze burning with desire.

The look conjured an image of Astrid and Saoirse; their eyes shining with love and adoration for one another. Then in a flash Astrid was ripped from Saoirse, her body placed before a pyre as Saoirse broke into heartbreaking sobs.

"Amy," Lovino's voice brought me back, "you're crying."

"Huh?" I reached for my face finding my cheeks wet. I quickly wiped them away, "it-it's nothing. Just ignore it."

He didn't listen and rose to his feet, "did something happen?"

"It's nothing," I repeated through clutched teeth.

"That didn't look like nothing-"

I snapped, "Just drop it!"

Lovino froze; his words dying on his lips as his eyes revealed the shock and hurt that I had inflicted.

I swallowed my guilt, "you should finish the dress. We don't have a lot of time before the party."

Lovino squared his shoulders, his eyes growing hard, "right."

He continued his work in silence, finishing the rise of the waist and moving on to the neckline. He pulled it to circle around my neck and pinned the pearl spine to the collar, trying to straighten it. He turned back to the waist, tightening the fabric between his fingers. I flinched when his tips had grazed my naked side; the same side that had a jagged icicle wedged in it only a few days ago.

The wound may have healed without a single scar but it didn't erase the memory. The pain. The feeling of blood gushing from my side, leaving me cold and blurry eyed as Giselle loomed over me. A shard prepared above her, ready to give the finishing blow.

A frustrated voice, one that seemed so far away, called out. "Did I hurt you?"

I was snapped back to reality when a pair of hands slapped my cheeks, "huh?!"

Lovino furrowed his brow in worry, "Did I hurt you?" he repeated.

"What? No! No," I said, a little too quickly. "No. I'm fine. It's nothing."

He clutched his jaw, "it isn't nothing."

I looked away, "please Lovi just leave it."

"No," he remarked stubbornly, "Amy, talk to me."

I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to break free from his grasp but he held on tighter. "Amy, please," he beseeched, "talk to me."

"I-I don't-" I choked on my words.

Lovino leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. He soothed me with sweet words in Italian, coaxing me to relax, "just talk to me. I'll listen."

I looked up and was met with blood red eyes.

I screamed and shoved Lovino, knocking him back against the chimney. He grunted out a curse and rubbed the back of his head. Then he glanced to me, his irises the color of gold again.

I ground my teeth together and whimpered, "I'm sorry." I spun for the door and slammed it behind me, sealing me off from Lovino.

In the safety of my room, I sunk to the floor, curled into a ball and cried.

---

A/N

Current Ethiopia: Elene Lemma