Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB. X-Files is owned by Chris Carter, Gargoyles by Disney. (I think that covers--oh.) And, Anita Blake and Edward belong to Laurell K. Hamilton. Well, not my versions, but...
Marya, OTOH, belongs to me. And, in the words of JHim Smith, "If I discover any of you jabronis using Marya, I will take your little fanfic, spellcheck it real nice, save it in .txt format, turn that sumbitch sideways, and stick it STRAIGHT UP YOUR CANDY-ASS!"
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga
Chapter Seven: Two Left Feet
by Suzy DeZorga
By the time I'd unraveled the matrix'd brain of Alexander Daniel Summers, it was nearly sunset. Seven hours to defrag a brain. And usually only half an hour to defrag a good hard drive. Why didn't I hang out with more computers?
Maddie was sort of hovering as I opened my eyes and began breathing normally. "Well?"
"He's sleeping."
"I can SEE that, bitch. Did you fix him?"
Thoughts of neutering Alex, so there wouldn't be another generation of Summers gave me pause. "Er..." I coughed and cleared my throat. "Yes. It'll be a bit, but I think he'll be fine. I also made his brain fairly tamper proof. Poor lad's had everyone and their Uncle in there mucking about."
"Good. How soon before he wakes up?"
"I don't know--no, really. I sent him into a natural sleep, it might be tonight, it might not be 'till morning." I rubbed the back of my neck, wincing. "Either way, I'm dead on my feet and could REALLY use something to eat."
"Again." She snorted and hauled me out of my chair. "C'mon."
"Thanks, Mum," I mumbled meekly, as she dragged me back up and down myriad corridors to the kitchen.
---
The kitchen was yet again packed and crowded as we entered. Luckily, food was a little more readily apparent. Pizza boxes covered every available flat surface, and bottles of soda dotted the spots that were empty. People were also sprawled on every available surface, munching away industriously.
"Fooooood," I mumbled, staring. And not just any food. Ambrosia. Pizza. The next few minutes were a blur as I pounced the nearest box, checked it wasn't mushroom pizza and began devouring it.
"Like I said earlier, Pete, 's worse than watching you eat."
The voice drifted into my conscious field of hearing and I blinked. I'd heard that before, hadn't I? I looked up at the young woman who was talking and finally got a good look at the young man she leaned against. "Peter Paul Wisdom, as I live and breath," I mumbled, through a mouthful of pizza.
"And eat," he supplied, helpfully.
I chuckled in spite of myself. Another mouthful swallowed, and I felt civil enough to ask for introductions. "So, Wisdom, I see they caught you, too."
"Nah, I caught him." The girl at his side smiled at me, "Kitty Pryde."
I nearly laughed. I should have known the computer programmer I'd 'met' would end up being intelligent enough to snag Pete. "Marya DeZorga."
She nodded at me, "Since you missed the rest of the introductions earlier, the rest of the crew are, Kurt Wagner, Piotr Rasputin, Rahne Sinclair, Moira McTaggert, Amanda Sefton, and Douglock."
I nodded politely to each of the introductees. McTaggert had her nose buried in a mug of thick black oily stuff. "Coffee..." my mind supplied. Coffee which would provide that precious caffeine. The caffeine that would replenish a bit more of my energy.
"God, Dez, I'd forgotten what a one-track mind you have." Dom was glaring at me as I finished drinking the last of her coffee.
"Sorry." I didn't sound sorry. Hard to, when you're eyeing that next cup and it happens to belong to Nathan Dayspring Summers.
Who was glaring at me much harder than Dom was. "Don't even think it, Susanna."
"Damn." I was going to have to actually pour my own cup.
"Gotten soft in your old age, Dez?"
"No, Dom, just tired." I yawned to prove my point and then sipped the cup of coffee I'd poured.
Something suddenly occurred to me, acting on auto-pilot as I was. "Maddie..."
"Yes?"
"Do you mind if I chase after Scott?" My only excuse was the extreme exhaustion gripping me. That, and I hadn't had a good lay in a long while.
Maddie, to give her credit, took it in her stride and smiled slightly. "Not really. We were over long before I died, you know. In fact, I'll even try to make sure the divorce gets finalised."
Around us, several unnamed people were snickering. I merely nodded. "Thanks."
"WHAT?" Grey. Grey was in the kitchen, I realised. Shit. "Madelyne Pryor, you bitch, you wouldn't step down for ME."
"That, Grey, is because you're a whiny 'Ho."
"You--you," Jean spluttered, and whirled to me, looking suddenly very angry. "You stupid bitch. You've done it, you've wrapped them all around your little finger, and you're getting away with it. Know what? I know you're a fake and a lie!"
I blinked at her, swaying slightly. "Did you have a point?" Forced politeness was the refuge of the deeply fatigued.
"You think you've won. But you haven't, oh, no, just watch, Ms Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga! You've not won yet!" And with those words, Grey swept out of the kitchen.
It would have been a lovely exit if she hadn't collided with Bishop on her way out. The tall man caught her shoulders and attempted to steady her. She shrugged him off with a growl and continued stalking out.
"I know I mentioned this before, but...Is she normally a steel-hardened bitch with a persecution complex?" I rubbed a thumb between my eyes, trying to alleviate the sudden ache there.
Several people coughed, a few snickered, but it was Bishop who shook his head at me. "She is...very upset over something."
"Really? Well, knock me over with a daisy. *I'm* tired. And exhausted. And sort of upset, because I really think you should all be kissing my ankles or something, because I saved your precious McCoy from certain death, AND Lorna, AND I just deprogrammed Alex. And, Gods-dammit, I'm the Mother of the Phoenix, and..." I trailed off and coughed. "And, um, I'm kinda tired and stuff."
"Tired. Yeah, you just might be." Kitty Pryde smirked at me. Obviously, I was coming off as a buffoon. I think I was, too.
A hand passed over my eyes. "Maddie? Someone? Can I go to bed now?"
"That might be a good idea," Dom said dryly.
"I'll take you up." Betsy nodded to the others and reached for my arm as I swayed slightly.
"Thanks."
Neither of us talked and Braddock melted away as soon as I reached my door. That was fine with me, I was ready to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Unfortunately for me, there was a call on my cell phone. It was one of those new-fangled ones that had messages and stuff. Although, it was slightly higher tech. For instance, the calls couldn't be monitored. And, it had a number that could be called from anywhere, with no charges accrued.
There were two messages on it. One from Buffy, mentioning that she was going patrolling that night if I wanted to tag along. And, the second from a friend of mine in the FBI. "Marya, I don't know what the HELL you were trying to do last night, but it would be really NICE if you'd try NOT to get caught in the public eye next time."
And that was it. I sat on the edge of my bed, pondering why the hell Krycek would be yelling at me for destroying an old warehouse. Especially one that had been a sentinel factory...
I sighed and dialed. His answering machine picked up. "Krycek, I'm not available at the moment. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."
"Alex, it's Marya. What did you mean? I spent last night destroying a sentinel factory. You'd think your superiors would be happy about that. Call me in the morning, I'm about to collapse."
I hung up and stared at the phone for a moment, before dialing again. It rang twice. "Detective Maza."
"Hey, 'Lisa. It's Marya."
"'Rya." A pause, "Can I call you back in ten?"
"Sure." Elisa's request puzzled me slightly, but I shrugged and hung up, waiting.
To get into pyjamas or stay in street clothes? That was the question that occupied my tired brain as I set the phone down. Pyjamas, my mind decided. I was too bloody tired to do any good going out anywhere. If the world needed to be saved, I was not the person to do it.
At least, at the moment, I wasn't.
---
Elisa was good on her word. Ten minutes later as I was curled up in bed reading a Regency romance that someone had left in my room. I was assuming it was a previous occupant's. Could've been an anonymous gift, though. My phone beeped and I picked it up. "DeZorga."
"'Rya, I've been talking to, um, a friend." Sounds in the background indicated that Elisa was driving. I wasn't sure where.
"And?" I prompted, when the silence went on too long.
"He said...You're not going to believe this, but, he said that some of the Old Ones are back."
I was too tired to wait her out. "Old Ones?"
"Yes. He didn't elaborate, though." She stopped to yell out the window at someone. Something about cutting her off, then nearly forcing her into a wall. "Anyway," she continued, "I know you're sort of into that whole witchcraft/history thing, and, so..." her voice trailed off again, as she tried to come up with something more to say.
"Can I speak with your informant?" Bed was looking more and more inviting.
"My informant? Um...Sure. I'll have to set up an interview time, and there might be restrictions and stuff, but--I can do that."
"Thanks, 'Lisa. Look, I'm about dead on my feet. Can we talk more in the morning?"
"Sure." She sounded relieved. "I'll call you when I get off my shift, okay? Bye!" She didn't wait for a reply, just hung up.
I sat there staring at the deadened phone and sighed. "Oh, I know there's a deity up there, somewhere. There has to be," I muttered, reaching out and flipping off the light. "After all, it's the only reason my life is such a mess... Right?"
---
Blood filled the air around me, scenting it wonderfully. Blood, blood, glorious blood. I revelled in it, drinking it in deeply and bathing in it. Mine to hold, mine to conquor, mine to destroy. I laughed.
The copper tang wrapped around me, filling my nose with its exotic bouquet. Wondrous. Life was mine, and I took it.
Something felt wrong, suddenly. And I was frightened. Life was ending too quickly, too fast, too much. I was overwhelmed.
Children were screaming, fire burning them to cinders. Fire, fire everywhere, licking hungrily, happily at them. While all I could do was stand and watch and do nothing.
I think I screamed myself awake.
Could be wrong, though, since no one came to see what the disturbance was. I lay there, gasping for my breath, revelling in my life. In the life I had now, and would have. The life I'd had.
Life was good. Until my shoulders, back and neck began complaining at their treatment as I tossed and turned in the grip of my dreams. My legs ached, too as if I'd run a thousand miles to get away from him.
Him? Him who?
My phone rang. I scrabbled for it, shaking the last vestiges of sleep off in the dawn light streaming through my window. "H'lo?"
"Hi. I don't know who you are, or why my daughter had your number, but...Do you know where she is?"
The voice was male and worried. Daughter? I didn't know any--Buffy. "Sir? Who are you?"
"Who am I? I should think you'd answer that, young lady!" He hung up.
I blinked at the phone stupidly and waited. It rang within a minute. "I'm sorry. I'm Thomas Summers. My daughter, Buffy, she had your phone number written down in her address book. There was a star and a 'call in case of emergencies' note."
"Mr Summers, I'm Marya DeZorga, why don't you start from the beginning. Where is your daughter?"
"That's just it. I don't know. She...I asked the door man, he said she'd snuck out again last night--again!" I could hear the pain in his voice, a sudden ripping feeling that she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him she was going out. "She hasn't come back yet."
A sick feeling was growing in my stomach. Buffy had gone out last night--to patrol. On Christmas Eve. Shit. It wasn't special or anything, but she'd gone alone. Fuck. It was Christmas Day, and she should have been back. "I should have gone with her," I whispered, guilt sliding over me.
"What?"
He was still on the line. "Sir." I caught my breath and straightened. "Sir, I haven't seen your daughter for five days. I'd suggest you phone the police, and find out from the door man if she was headed in any direction. I'll be in town as soon as I can make it. We'll find her. Bye."
I hung up before he could ask more questions and turned the phone onto vibrate. It was dawn, and I still felt exceedingly tired. Buffy was captured. Not dead, I'd know if she was. One of the few perks of being a Slayer is knowing when a fellow Slayer has passed on. Over the years, I'd felt the deaths of hundreds of Slayers.
With Buffy, I'd feel it even more, considering we were close. She wasn't conscious, either, I quickly discovered as I tried to scan for her down the vague Slayer-link. Which meant she was being held by someone who knew what she was. Which meant I had until sun-down to find her. "Shit."
---
I was going to need help. Again. I hated asking for help from people I'd only just met, but a friend was in danger.
Who could I count on? Dom, Nate, Raven, Maddie and Pete. The others, like Pryde and Braddock, would follow along to protect their friends. That was fine with me. I had a really bad feeling about things. Especially my fun little nightmare. Children burning. I hated things like that.
---
End Chapter Seven
=====
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'
__________________________________________________
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga
Marya, OTOH, belongs to me. And, in the words of JHim Smith, "If I discover any of you jabronis using Marya, I will take your little fanfic, spellcheck it real nice, save it in .txt format, turn that sumbitch sideways, and stick it STRAIGHT UP YOUR CANDY-ASS!"
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga
Chapter Seven: Two Left Feet
by Suzy DeZorga
By the time I'd unraveled the matrix'd brain of Alexander Daniel Summers, it was nearly sunset. Seven hours to defrag a brain. And usually only half an hour to defrag a good hard drive. Why didn't I hang out with more computers?
Maddie was sort of hovering as I opened my eyes and began breathing normally. "Well?"
"He's sleeping."
"I can SEE that, bitch. Did you fix him?"
Thoughts of neutering Alex, so there wouldn't be another generation of Summers gave me pause. "Er..." I coughed and cleared my throat. "Yes. It'll be a bit, but I think he'll be fine. I also made his brain fairly tamper proof. Poor lad's had everyone and their Uncle in there mucking about."
"Good. How soon before he wakes up?"
"I don't know--no, really. I sent him into a natural sleep, it might be tonight, it might not be 'till morning." I rubbed the back of my neck, wincing. "Either way, I'm dead on my feet and could REALLY use something to eat."
"Again." She snorted and hauled me out of my chair. "C'mon."
"Thanks, Mum," I mumbled meekly, as she dragged me back up and down myriad corridors to the kitchen.
---
The kitchen was yet again packed and crowded as we entered. Luckily, food was a little more readily apparent. Pizza boxes covered every available flat surface, and bottles of soda dotted the spots that were empty. People were also sprawled on every available surface, munching away industriously.
"Fooooood," I mumbled, staring. And not just any food. Ambrosia. Pizza. The next few minutes were a blur as I pounced the nearest box, checked it wasn't mushroom pizza and began devouring it.
"Like I said earlier, Pete, 's worse than watching you eat."
The voice drifted into my conscious field of hearing and I blinked. I'd heard that before, hadn't I? I looked up at the young woman who was talking and finally got a good look at the young man she leaned against. "Peter Paul Wisdom, as I live and breath," I mumbled, through a mouthful of pizza.
"And eat," he supplied, helpfully.
I chuckled in spite of myself. Another mouthful swallowed, and I felt civil enough to ask for introductions. "So, Wisdom, I see they caught you, too."
"Nah, I caught him." The girl at his side smiled at me, "Kitty Pryde."
I nearly laughed. I should have known the computer programmer I'd 'met' would end up being intelligent enough to snag Pete. "Marya DeZorga."
She nodded at me, "Since you missed the rest of the introductions earlier, the rest of the crew are, Kurt Wagner, Piotr Rasputin, Rahne Sinclair, Moira McTaggert, Amanda Sefton, and Douglock."
I nodded politely to each of the introductees. McTaggert had her nose buried in a mug of thick black oily stuff. "Coffee..." my mind supplied. Coffee which would provide that precious caffeine. The caffeine that would replenish a bit more of my energy.
"God, Dez, I'd forgotten what a one-track mind you have." Dom was glaring at me as I finished drinking the last of her coffee.
"Sorry." I didn't sound sorry. Hard to, when you're eyeing that next cup and it happens to belong to Nathan Dayspring Summers.
Who was glaring at me much harder than Dom was. "Don't even think it, Susanna."
"Damn." I was going to have to actually pour my own cup.
"Gotten soft in your old age, Dez?"
"No, Dom, just tired." I yawned to prove my point and then sipped the cup of coffee I'd poured.
Something suddenly occurred to me, acting on auto-pilot as I was. "Maddie..."
"Yes?"
"Do you mind if I chase after Scott?" My only excuse was the extreme exhaustion gripping me. That, and I hadn't had a good lay in a long while.
Maddie, to give her credit, took it in her stride and smiled slightly. "Not really. We were over long before I died, you know. In fact, I'll even try to make sure the divorce gets finalised."
Around us, several unnamed people were snickering. I merely nodded. "Thanks."
"WHAT?" Grey. Grey was in the kitchen, I realised. Shit. "Madelyne Pryor, you bitch, you wouldn't step down for ME."
"That, Grey, is because you're a whiny 'Ho."
"You--you," Jean spluttered, and whirled to me, looking suddenly very angry. "You stupid bitch. You've done it, you've wrapped them all around your little finger, and you're getting away with it. Know what? I know you're a fake and a lie!"
I blinked at her, swaying slightly. "Did you have a point?" Forced politeness was the refuge of the deeply fatigued.
"You think you've won. But you haven't, oh, no, just watch, Ms Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga! You've not won yet!" And with those words, Grey swept out of the kitchen.
It would have been a lovely exit if she hadn't collided with Bishop on her way out. The tall man caught her shoulders and attempted to steady her. She shrugged him off with a growl and continued stalking out.
"I know I mentioned this before, but...Is she normally a steel-hardened bitch with a persecution complex?" I rubbed a thumb between my eyes, trying to alleviate the sudden ache there.
Several people coughed, a few snickered, but it was Bishop who shook his head at me. "She is...very upset over something."
"Really? Well, knock me over with a daisy. *I'm* tired. And exhausted. And sort of upset, because I really think you should all be kissing my ankles or something, because I saved your precious McCoy from certain death, AND Lorna, AND I just deprogrammed Alex. And, Gods-dammit, I'm the Mother of the Phoenix, and..." I trailed off and coughed. "And, um, I'm kinda tired and stuff."
"Tired. Yeah, you just might be." Kitty Pryde smirked at me. Obviously, I was coming off as a buffoon. I think I was, too.
A hand passed over my eyes. "Maddie? Someone? Can I go to bed now?"
"That might be a good idea," Dom said dryly.
"I'll take you up." Betsy nodded to the others and reached for my arm as I swayed slightly.
"Thanks."
Neither of us talked and Braddock melted away as soon as I reached my door. That was fine with me, I was ready to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Unfortunately for me, there was a call on my cell phone. It was one of those new-fangled ones that had messages and stuff. Although, it was slightly higher tech. For instance, the calls couldn't be monitored. And, it had a number that could be called from anywhere, with no charges accrued.
There were two messages on it. One from Buffy, mentioning that she was going patrolling that night if I wanted to tag along. And, the second from a friend of mine in the FBI. "Marya, I don't know what the HELL you were trying to do last night, but it would be really NICE if you'd try NOT to get caught in the public eye next time."
And that was it. I sat on the edge of my bed, pondering why the hell Krycek would be yelling at me for destroying an old warehouse. Especially one that had been a sentinel factory...
I sighed and dialed. His answering machine picked up. "Krycek, I'm not available at the moment. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."
"Alex, it's Marya. What did you mean? I spent last night destroying a sentinel factory. You'd think your superiors would be happy about that. Call me in the morning, I'm about to collapse."
I hung up and stared at the phone for a moment, before dialing again. It rang twice. "Detective Maza."
"Hey, 'Lisa. It's Marya."
"'Rya." A pause, "Can I call you back in ten?"
"Sure." Elisa's request puzzled me slightly, but I shrugged and hung up, waiting.
To get into pyjamas or stay in street clothes? That was the question that occupied my tired brain as I set the phone down. Pyjamas, my mind decided. I was too bloody tired to do any good going out anywhere. If the world needed to be saved, I was not the person to do it.
At least, at the moment, I wasn't.
---
Elisa was good on her word. Ten minutes later as I was curled up in bed reading a Regency romance that someone had left in my room. I was assuming it was a previous occupant's. Could've been an anonymous gift, though. My phone beeped and I picked it up. "DeZorga."
"'Rya, I've been talking to, um, a friend." Sounds in the background indicated that Elisa was driving. I wasn't sure where.
"And?" I prompted, when the silence went on too long.
"He said...You're not going to believe this, but, he said that some of the Old Ones are back."
I was too tired to wait her out. "Old Ones?"
"Yes. He didn't elaborate, though." She stopped to yell out the window at someone. Something about cutting her off, then nearly forcing her into a wall. "Anyway," she continued, "I know you're sort of into that whole witchcraft/history thing, and, so..." her voice trailed off again, as she tried to come up with something more to say.
"Can I speak with your informant?" Bed was looking more and more inviting.
"My informant? Um...Sure. I'll have to set up an interview time, and there might be restrictions and stuff, but--I can do that."
"Thanks, 'Lisa. Look, I'm about dead on my feet. Can we talk more in the morning?"
"Sure." She sounded relieved. "I'll call you when I get off my shift, okay? Bye!" She didn't wait for a reply, just hung up.
I sat there staring at the deadened phone and sighed. "Oh, I know there's a deity up there, somewhere. There has to be," I muttered, reaching out and flipping off the light. "After all, it's the only reason my life is such a mess... Right?"
---
Blood filled the air around me, scenting it wonderfully. Blood, blood, glorious blood. I revelled in it, drinking it in deeply and bathing in it. Mine to hold, mine to conquor, mine to destroy. I laughed.
The copper tang wrapped around me, filling my nose with its exotic bouquet. Wondrous. Life was mine, and I took it.
Something felt wrong, suddenly. And I was frightened. Life was ending too quickly, too fast, too much. I was overwhelmed.
Children were screaming, fire burning them to cinders. Fire, fire everywhere, licking hungrily, happily at them. While all I could do was stand and watch and do nothing.
I think I screamed myself awake.
Could be wrong, though, since no one came to see what the disturbance was. I lay there, gasping for my breath, revelling in my life. In the life I had now, and would have. The life I'd had.
Life was good. Until my shoulders, back and neck began complaining at their treatment as I tossed and turned in the grip of my dreams. My legs ached, too as if I'd run a thousand miles to get away from him.
Him? Him who?
My phone rang. I scrabbled for it, shaking the last vestiges of sleep off in the dawn light streaming through my window. "H'lo?"
"Hi. I don't know who you are, or why my daughter had your number, but...Do you know where she is?"
The voice was male and worried. Daughter? I didn't know any--Buffy. "Sir? Who are you?"
"Who am I? I should think you'd answer that, young lady!" He hung up.
I blinked at the phone stupidly and waited. It rang within a minute. "I'm sorry. I'm Thomas Summers. My daughter, Buffy, she had your phone number written down in her address book. There was a star and a 'call in case of emergencies' note."
"Mr Summers, I'm Marya DeZorga, why don't you start from the beginning. Where is your daughter?"
"That's just it. I don't know. She...I asked the door man, he said she'd snuck out again last night--again!" I could hear the pain in his voice, a sudden ripping feeling that she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him she was going out. "She hasn't come back yet."
A sick feeling was growing in my stomach. Buffy had gone out last night--to patrol. On Christmas Eve. Shit. It wasn't special or anything, but she'd gone alone. Fuck. It was Christmas Day, and she should have been back. "I should have gone with her," I whispered, guilt sliding over me.
"What?"
He was still on the line. "Sir." I caught my breath and straightened. "Sir, I haven't seen your daughter for five days. I'd suggest you phone the police, and find out from the door man if she was headed in any direction. I'll be in town as soon as I can make it. We'll find her. Bye."
I hung up before he could ask more questions and turned the phone onto vibrate. It was dawn, and I still felt exceedingly tired. Buffy was captured. Not dead, I'd know if she was. One of the few perks of being a Slayer is knowing when a fellow Slayer has passed on. Over the years, I'd felt the deaths of hundreds of Slayers.
With Buffy, I'd feel it even more, considering we were close. She wasn't conscious, either, I quickly discovered as I tried to scan for her down the vague Slayer-link. Which meant she was being held by someone who knew what she was. Which meant I had until sun-down to find her. "Shit."
---
I was going to need help. Again. I hated asking for help from people I'd only just met, but a friend was in danger.
Who could I count on? Dom, Nate, Raven, Maddie and Pete. The others, like Pryde and Braddock, would follow along to protect their friends. That was fine with me. I had a really bad feeling about things. Especially my fun little nightmare. Children burning. I hated things like that.
---
End Chapter Seven
=====
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'
__________________________________________________
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga