(A/N: Last chapter, after not updating for a month, I promised that future waits would not be as long.  Unfortunately, it's been even longer this time, as I hadn't figured in the hectic schedule of finals and the holidays.  Again, I tentatively promise that I will write more quickly in the future, though I can't be one hundred percent sure that I will always have the time.)

            "How much longer are we gonna hang around here?" Antonio asked bitterly as he surveyed the early morning Boston Harbor for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past several days.

            "As long as we need to," Nick answered cryptically, "and you'd better learn some patience.  I wouldn't want you getting all impatient and running off now.  I'd be hurt," he snickered," and when I'm hurt, I tend to lash out, which wouldn't be good for your fiancée or your brother."

            Antonio grimaced.  "Yeah, yeah, I kinda got the picture the first couple dozen times you made that threat.  I don't see why you can't at least have them put on the phone.  How do I know they're okay, anyway?"

            "You don't," Nick replied with a smile, neither his voice nor his face betraying the annoyance and anxiety he felt at the secretly held knowledge that his hostages had escaped a couple of days ago and were now at large.  "You have no choice but to take my word for it, cuz they certainly won't be if you don't do exactly as I tell you."

            "Well, will you at least tell me what we're doing?" Antonio implored restlessly.  "I'm gonna be risking my life here, and I'd kinda like to know what for, and what exactly is taking so long to arrange."

            "You'll know when you need to, and not a second before.  I'm disappointed in you, pal.  You should know me better than that, if you think I'd tell you every little bit of my plan right now."

            Smirking triumphantly, and knowing that, with or without Luis and Sheridan, he still had the upper hand, Nick escorted his prisoner back to his gang's headquarters.

*****

            At about that same time, Luis, Sheridan, Gwen, and Hank sat around a small table in the café restaurant of the hotel they were currently staying at.  The place wasn't anything fancy, but then again, neither was the hotel, a shabby little thing in an unassuming area of Boston; due to the nature of their stay, they didn't dare stay anywhere nicer, as it wouldn't do for Sheridan or Gwen to be recognized at such a time.  Even in their present surroundings, they thought it best to err on the side of caution, and so the women currently sported wide-brimmed hats and dark sunglasses.

            "So," Sheridan said, looking at Hank and Gwen, "did you guys have any luck last night?"

            "Actually, yes," Gwen replied, that self-satisfied smile once again stretching across her face.  Hank managed to get a hold of a recent cargo train shipment record, and it seems that several fairly large deliveries have been made to our good friend 'Nicholas Creighton'.  He'd tried to cover up his paper trail, of course, but it wasn't really hard to trace it back to him, really.  How about you guys?"

            "You know that possible lead we've all been going after?  That guy who'd had some dealings with Nick?" Luis asked.  When Hank and Gwen nodded, he continued, "Well, me and Sheridan caught up with him, and after a little coercion, he turned out to be very helpful.  Apparently, our friends are planning something a little bigger than we'd ever thought.  It seems that he's being paid a huge sum to smuggle weapons to a large terrorist organization in some South American country, possibly for future use against the United States.  I'd bet that the shipments you two discovered contained the contraband weapons."

            "And Antonio will be piloting the boat," Sheridan grimaced, none too pleased at the thought.  "We've got a bit of good news, though.  To have any hope of getting through, Nick seems to have picked a fairly small boat, not large enough to carry the entire cargo.  Therefore, he's forced to make two runs, meaning that he must store the remainder in a safe place.  Such coordination takes time, so he won't be able to go anytime soon.  The best we can guess is that the only reason he took Antonio with so soon was that he needed to supervise this himself, and Antonio was too important to entrust to his underlings."

            "Wow," Hank whistled.  "I knew it had to be major, but I didn't think it'd be like this.  Weapons, terrorists, possible plots against the country, this is going to take a lot more planning than I thought."

            "Yeah," agreed Gwen, slightly green in the face.   "I mean, we can't just grab Antonio and run, like we were going to do before.  Now, we actually have to stop this shipment from getting made!"

            Luis nodded in agreement, and then added, "Right, we do.  If we alert the authorities right now, it could tip off Nick, and then Antonio's as good as dead, plus he's got an entire armory at his back.  Somehow, we have to figure out a way to grab Antonio AND take control of the boat, knowing where the rest is stashed, sail safely away, and turn it in from there.  Luckily for us, as Sheridan's already said, time's on our side.  It'll be necessary to case the Harbor for any activity, but Sheridan and I can't risk Nick or his goons spotting us.  That means you and Hank will have to cover the waterfront, see if you can find out what's going on.  We'll try to work on a plan from here, but we have to make sure Nick doesn't know we're following him.  He must know we can't tell the police, so if we're lucky he'll just think we're out of the picture."

*****

            "Now what in Satan's name could this be?" Tabitha wondered as a scrap of yellowed parchment appeared out of thin air and promptly fell onto her lap.  "Well, there's nothing else for it, I guess.  I'd better see what it says."

            Timmy, who had been hard at work trying to decide on just the right angle for a sequel to the phenomenal, scintillating bestseller Hidden Passions (now available in paperback featuring all-new red-hot material wherever fine books are sold), promptly stuffed his pen and paper in his pocket and looked up in concern when he heard Tabitha's agitated groan, and noticed that Tabitha looked none too pleased at whatever it was she was reading.  "What is it, Princess?  What's wrong now?" Timmy asked with concern and no small amount of apprehension.

            "It's Cassandra.  That virulent vampire wants me to meet her in her lair this afternoon, though why she doesn't say.  We've no choice but to go, I'm afraid."

            Timmy scrunched up his nose in confusion.  "Her lair?  She has a lair now?  When did she get a lair?"

            "Don't you remember, Batting for Brains, how I told you that the underground passages beneath the Crane mansion were originally built for Cassandra?  No doubt she's moved right back in."

            "But, then, how will we get there with nobody noticing?" Timmy, asked hurriedly.  The only entrance we know about is in the mansion."

            "I wouldn't worry about that right now," Tabitha couldn't help but laugh.  "Considering the constant stream of traffic in and out of that house, I seriously doubt anybody will pay any attention to us.  We should be able to sneak in quite easily, for whatever it is Cassandra has in mind."

*****

            Dr. Eve Russell was sitting at her kitchen table, eating her breakfast while looking through some papers when TC entered the room.  "And how is my perfect, angelic wife doing this morning?" he asked after giving her a good morning kiss.

            "She's doing…okay," Eve answered as she got a far-away look in her eyes, tormented by the burden of her torrid past that she dared not to share with her self-righteous husband.

            "What's that you're looking at?" TC questioned casually.  "Hospital paperwork?"

            "Not exactly," Eve replied nervously.  She knew that TC wouldn't like what he was about to hear, but it was an issue that just couldn't be ignored any more.  Not after last night.  "Honey, I'm looking into trying to find a good psychiatrist for Simone."

            "What for?!" TC demanded angrily, his cheerful, good-natured demeanor instantly replaced with defensive fury.  "There's nothing wrong with our little girl!"

            "Nothing wrong!" Eve exclaimed in disbelief.  "TC, she tried to kill Whitney last night.  This obsession with Chad is unhealthy, and that's an understatement.  She needs professional help."

            TC shook his head furiously, not liking what he heard.  "No, what she NEEDS is to steer clear of that evil Kay girl, and now that Simone knows to stay away from her, she'll be fine."

            Eve was not convinced.  "I know you think Kay's responsible, but it just doesn't add up."

            "I don't care!" TC insisted vehemently, slamming his fist down onto the table so hard that coffee from his mug splashed all over the table, nearly staining Eve's papers.  "Simone would never have done something like that on her own, no matter how upset she was."

            "Can you be so sure?" Eve countered in a reasonable yet firm tone.  "I love Simone, but she's been so hateful lately, so violent.  How many times in the last several weeks has she actually attacked Whitney?  Maybe you're right, maybe Simone wasn't at fault for what happened last night.  But she still needs counseling for her previous behavior."

            TC faltered for a moment, halted by the logic in her argument.  He still refused to admit, however, that his daughter might have a problem.  "Well, isn't it obvious, Eve?  Kay must have been influencing her all along, forcing her to act so uncontrollably," he offered lamely.

            Eve had had enough.  "Oh, yes, the girl has been exerting her evil Crane power the whole time, starting just minutes after she found out she was a Crane, and has continued with this scheme, for no particular reason, during the insanity that the past few weeks must have been for her," the good doctor scoffed sarcastically.  "I can just see it now!"

            "I wouldn't put it past a Crane," TC mused, his eyes clouding over as he obsessed bitterly over his hatred of the Cranes once again.  "I'm still positive that she's behind it all."

            "And if she's not?" Eve asked, staring seriously into TC's eyes.  "Whitney's life could be in danger.  Shouldn't we take every precaution that we can?"

            "Well, I certainly think so," came Whitney's voice as she and Chad bounded into the kitchen together before TC had a chance to respond.  "I've been feeling really guilty this whole time about the situation with Simone, but now she's gone too far."

            "Whitney, you better keeps your opinions to yourself," TC ordered in a commanding voice.  "Your mother and I are having a discussion, and it doesn't concern you."

            "Doesn't concern me?!" Whitney yelled, her anger at her father's attitude getting the better of her fear of him.  "She tried to kill me!  Now, I've never liked Kay, but I have to give credit where it's due, and as far as I'm concerned, she saved my life."

            TC was about to really blow up, but then noticed something that he hadn't before.  "Say, why is Chad here, with you, right now at this hour of the day?"

            Hoping to defuse this potentially explosive situation, Chad interjected.  "I took Whitney to the recording studio, Coach Russell," he explained.  "See, I wrote a song for Whitney, and I wanted her to be able to hear it."

            "That's so sweet, Chad," Eve said approvingly, but couldn't say anything further before TC banged his fist forcefully on the table yet again.

            "It might be sweet, but it's not going to help Whitney win Wimbledon.  I'm disappointed in you, Whit; you should have been out practicing since the crack of dawn."

            "I was going to practice today," Whitney insisted nervously.  "I came back just now to change and then hit the courts."

            TC, not persuaded, shook his head.  "I'm sorry, baby, but that's just not good enough.  If you're going to play in a grand slam, then you can't sit around and listen to silly songs that some boy writes you.  I hate to say this, but I think you've just proven that you can't juggle both boys and tennis.  We've worked too hard for this for you to just throw it all away now."

            "So what, am I just supposed to be married to my tennis racket?!" Whitney shouted with a ferocity that surprised everybody, especially her.  "I'll play tennis for you, Daddy, but I don't wanna give up everything else in my life to become a great player just because you couldn't be!"

            "And I couldn't because I hurt my leg, because the Cranes ruined my life!" TC bellowed, causing everyone else to shift uneasily.  "I could have gone all the way to the top if they hadn't sabotaged me, just like they're trying to hurt Simone now."

            "What if you had gotten there, Daddy?" Whitney challenged her father, refusing to be cowed into silence again.  "You never would have met Mom, or have had us.  Would you have rather not had a family?"

            "Of course not!  I love my perfect family."

            "Then, tennis isn't the most important thing in life," Whitney concluded, smiling a little in triumph.  "Love is more important.  I love Chad, and I'm still going to play tennis, but if I have to choose between the two, I'm choosing love.  Now, I'm going to go and practice now; plus, I really don't feel comfortable spending too much time here right now with Simone like this."  Having said her piece, Whitney stormed out of the kitchen.  Chad lingered a moment, as if trying to think of something soothing to say to TC, but then seemed to think better of it and followed Whitney.

            "Can you believe Whitney?" TC asked in disbelief.  "She's never had an attitude like that before.  It must be Chad's influence."

            Annoyed, Eve felt the need to defend her daughter.  "TC, I really don't think that she said anything so horrible.  Her actual points were that she has a right to a life outside of tennis, and that she doesn't like the fact that nothing's being done about Simone.  Both of which I, for one, have to agree with her on."

            "She never complained about tennis before, and she shouldn't talk that way about her sister when she knows perfectly well that it's not her fault!" TC, well beyond the point of reason, yelled out, the room resonating with his booming voice.

            "I didn't want to mention this before, dear," Eve spat out, "but considering Simone's family background, it's hardly necessary to look for evil forces to explain her violent outburst.  In fact, maybe I should look into therapy for TWO people!"

            Realizing that any further discussion with TC at this moment was useless, Eve grabbed her coat and headed off to work, leaving her husband to fume and vent without an audience.

*****

            "Hi, Laura," Grace said, darting her head into Laura and Jessica's room and spotting her all-too distant eldest daughter laying on her bed and reading.  "Is Jessica here?  I'm trying out a new recipe, and since Charity is out walking through the park with Miguel, I thought Jessica might like to help."

            "No, sorry, she's over at Reese's, trying to cheer him up after his break-up with Kay," the teen replied, looking up from her copy of A Doll's House.  "I don't know when she'll be back."

            "Oh, well, thank you anyway," Grace answered, lingering awkwardly for a moment, as if not knowing what to say.  Then, brightening up slightly, she asked, "Say, would you maybe like to try it out?"

            Laura, realizing instantly that her mother was attempting to turn the disappointment of lacking both Charity and the backup option of Jessica into an opportunity to for some mother-daughter bonding, was somewhat reluctant.  "Gee, I'd love to, but I don't think I'd be any help.  I've never cooked in my life.  In fact, I'm not even sure I could turn the stove on."

            "That's no problem at all," Grace replied, laughing perkily.  "I can teach you!  It'll be our special project.  All of us Standish women are natural cooks.  You'll be baking tomato soup cake in no time."

            Oh, yay, just what I've always wanted to do with my life!, Laura thought sarcastically, but, not wanting to hurt Grace's feelings and unable to think up a good excuse, she agreed hesitantly.  She promptly found herself practically dragged downstairs and into the kitchen, where the sparklingly clean stove loomed before her, promising a seemingly endless afternoon of wacky culinary misadventures.

            "Alright, Mom, what are we making?" Laura used the term of endearment deliberately, as if attempting to deny to herself the hurt she had experienced the night before.

            Grace was taken aback for a second, surprised that Laura had called her "Mom" for the first time, but decided not to make a big deal out of it.  "Well, for dinner we're going fairly basic, with grilled chicken and rice and vegetables, but I thought for dessert we'd try something a little more adventurous: eggplant brownies."

            Laura barely managed to prevent the disgust from registering on her face.  "You're putting eggplant in the brownies?  Should taste, uh, different."

            "Yes, I thought so.  First, though, we'll boil the green beans.  See, you just set the stove to boil like this," she explained, flipping a switch.  "The temperature settings on this are very good, much better than on my old stove.  Well, I guess that just goes to show that at least some good came out of our old house getting sucked into hell," she remarked with a light chuckle.

            Curious despite herself, Laura replied, "You know, I've heard that mentioned in passing several times.  What exactly happened, anyway?"

            Beginning to expertly dice vegetables, Grace grimaced a little at the memory.  "It was awful, and at such a bad time, too.  I had just suffered a miscarriage after finding out that Ethan is Sam's son, and our marriage was in shambles, since Sam had to resolve his feelings for Ivy and I had trouble trusting him.  Meanwhile, it turned out that evil had somehow sucked Charity into her closet, which had turned into a portal to hell—"

            "Charity was trapped in HELL?!" Laura interrupted in utter disbelief.  "How is she still alive, and, well, here?"

            "I'm not really sure, but Father Lonigan said that it takes awhile for a person to die there when they're thrown in physically."

            "He was there?" Laura asked, more and more confused.

            "Well, of course," Grace replied as if just stating what should be obvious to absolutely anybody.  "He's our priest, and would of course be the resident expert about what to do in this situation.  He yelled at the demons and threw holy water into the closet.  We really should have called him in earlier, when the birds started attacking…"

            "Birds?" Laura was now wide-eyed, as she awkwardly began to dice some of the vegetables herself.

            "Oh, I didn't mention that?  A huge flock of ravens descended upon our home on New Year's; it was pretty scary," Grace said casually as she took the knife out of Laura's hands and showed her the proper way to hold it.  "Then, the walls started bleeding, which bothered us a little.  At the time, we decided that it had to be rust seeping through somehow, but, on reflection, it probably was blood."  Apparently, Grace didn't notice the horrified look Laura was now throwing her, stunned that this woman could talk about bleeding walls as if commenting that the price of bread had risen another quarter.

            "Anyway, we still couldn't get Charity out, so Reese went online to the Vatican website and found instructions to make Lucifer's Ladder, which is used to get people out of Hell—"

            "Wait a second," Laura intoned incredulously, "you expect me to believe that there's actually a procedure for GETTING PEOPLE OUT OF HELL, and that the Vatican keeps it on their website?!  I mean, even if such a thing exists, wouldn't it be on some ancient scroll in a vault, not readily available for download, and—oww!!" Laura had been so busy ranting that she hadn't paid attention to what she was doing, and had cut her left thumb instead of the carrot she had been aiming for.

            Concerned, Grace took her hand, ran it under cold water, and wrapped up her thumb in a bandage from the first-aid kit located conveniently under the sink.  "Kind of unbelievable, I know, but it was there.  The kids then made the Ladder, and Miguel went into Hell to rescue Charity," Grace explained as she handed Laura a potato peeler, hoping that she wouldn't hurt herself this time.  "He had her, but the demons attacked him, and he barely got out himself.  Miguel jumped in again, and Kay went in after him.  All the men then tried to fight, but the demons were too much, and Sam and your brother Ethan almost got pulled in themselves."

            "Ethan was there, too?"

            "Oh, yes, half the town showed up at some point.  He'd just found out that Kay was his half-sister, and he couldn't let anything happen to her, or to Theresa's brother.  Eventually, the demon attack got really strong, and we were all driven out of the house, which then got set on fire, so we couldn't get to the kids."

            "How'd they get out, then?" Laura asked, and then cursed when she managed to slice her right thumb with the peeler.

            Sighing, Grace repeated the first-aid procedure, and handed Laura a bowl of batter to mix.  "I don't really know, but something or someone intervened and got them out of Hell.  They were still trapped in the house, though, and we couldn't get to them.  They would have all died, except a light came to them and showed them the way out.  Just in time, too, because then the house fell into the ground, leaving an empty space where our home used to be."

            "Uh, wow," was all Laura could say, not knowing what was weirder, her mother's story, or the fact that the whole town didn't seem to be too effected by something like that.  "So, uh, this house isn't in, like, the same location or anything like that, is it?"

            "Well, of course it is!" Grace exclaimed right before she grabbed the batter, which was getting entirely too lumpy, and instead had Laura slowly stir the simmering vegetables.  "Why wouldn't it be?"

            "Well, it's just that it doesn't seem like a very safe place for us all to live, based on what you've just said," Laura pointed out nervously as she valiantly fought the urge to run out of the house screaming and never look back.

            "This is our home!" Grace argued adamantly.  "It's where Sam and I raised our family, and we're not giving up on it that easily."

            Looking all around her with a barely concealed alarm, Laura protested, "But, if there's really evil here, and I'm not saying that I believe any of that, and it seems to target Charity, then don't you think that you might be safer somewhere else?  And why are they after Charity, anyway?"

            "We figure it must be because she's so good at sensing evil.  I guess it just runs in my family, since I can sense it, and so could my sister Faith, apparently.  Who knows, maybe you have some sort of ability yourself."

            Just as she was about to vehemently deny such a possibility, Laura managed to splash the boiling hot water all over herself by stirring too quickly and proceeded to cry out in pain. Reflecting that Laura really wasn't kidding when she said that she couldn't cook, Grace tended to the burns while privately thinking that dinner tonight was going to prove quite a challenge.

*****

            At this time, Ivy, David, and Kay sat gathered in Kay's suite, busying themselves with the task of searching through dusty old volume after dusty old volume.  Kay knew that her training could begin at any time, and was determined to work on finding the counter-spell whenever she could.  Kay may have accepted her true calling, but though her soul had already darkened considerably, it was not yet bereft of all human feeling, and she still cared enough about her mother to want to get her back.

            Although neither David nor Ivy could actually detect a real change in Kay's behavior, remaining in the same room with her left them feeling distinctly chilled, as if a bitter wind was slowly cutting into them.  They could tell that the eerie presence was emanating somehow from Kay, but as neither could put their fingers on it, and both were a tad preoccupied with their own feelings, they tried to ignore it and chalk their unease up to their overactive imaginations.

            As is to be expected, David, was still reeling from the shock that he had fallen in love with Ivy.  He fully realized, of course, that due to the situation, it would be a complete folly to reveal or otherwise act upon his feelings, and so resigned himself to suffering in silence.  Making matters worse was the fact that he still had to see her frequently, had to be careful not to let slip and say how he really felt.  He actually thanked God for Kay's presence right now, because, as ill at ease as she was causing him to feel, it was still a thousand times better than finding himself in the awkward position of being alone with Ivy once again.

            Ivy, meanwhile, fought with all her strength to maintain her calm exterior that hid the total despondence that threatened to completely crush her spirit.  The sight of the man she loved so passionately, the only one she had ever made love to or could ever want to be with, dancing with another woman, happy without her, had tortured her relentlessly, and the knowledge that it had all been her own fault made it all the more unbearable.  Sam no longer loved her because of her own actions, because she had abandoned him so that she could be Mrs. Crane, and had slowly become so twisted that he could no longer recognize the woman he had loved, even when she stood before him. 

            As if that weren't enough to be tormented by, Ivy now understood that, should they succeed in finding the right counter-curse, her days were in essence over.  The prospect had at first understandably terrified her, and thinking about it still left a knot in her stomach.  However, when she mulled over the alternative, living however long this body lasted crippled, alone, friendless, and hated by all decent people, she could not help but come to the conclusion that it would be better to just get it over with.  Whatever happened to her, anything was better than remaining in this state of virtual limbo.

            Looking up in frustration from yet another ultimately useful text, Ivy voiced such a thought, briefly noticing that her words had left a singularly odd expression on David's face.  Hmm, must be he's not looking forward to getting blackmailed by Ivy Crane once more, Ivy rationalized.  Gee, I really hope I don't go and do it after he's been so helpful to me.

            "Yeah, well, it looks like that might not be an issue after all." Kay sounded irritated, and tired.  David, on the other hand, could not help perking up slightly at her declaration.

            "You mean, you don't think we'll find the spell at all?" Ivy asked forlornly.  It figured; just as she had come to accept and even wish for the reversal, she'd be told that it couldn't be done!

            "I honestly don't know," Kay admitted regretfully, forcefully tossing a large black leather-bound book away in annoyance.  These are the last volumes I have for us to look through, and if we don't happen to luck out with these, I'll have no idea where to even begin searching for your cure.  I'm sorry, but unless a miracle happens, you could be stuck like this forever."

*****

            "Well Tabitha!" Cassandra exclaimed happily, "I'm so pleased you could make it.  I see you've managed to find my little hideaway."

            "Yes, and none too easily," Tabitha replied grumpily, slightly out of breath, as was Timmy.  "Did you have to choose the most out of the way, hard to find cavern in the whole network to set yourself up in?"

            Cassandra chuckled good-humoredly.  "Why, it certainly wouldn't do to have an easily accessible secret lair.  I need to instruct my Heir in complete security and privacy, after all.  This has been my own private library and workshop for generations, so I thought it would be appropriate."

            "So, I guess Kay is now officially your Heir, then," Tabitha observed with trepidation.  Indeed, the whole cavernous room did seem to be set up for tutelage in the Dark Arts.  Surrounding the three was a fairly impressive library, made up almost entirely of ancient-looking texts and scrolls.  Also visible were numerous magical instruments and artifacts of various kinds: cauldrons, crystal balls, and racks for ingredients shared space with more obscure devices.  Tabitha hoped that Timmy would remember to behave himself and not poke his nose in where it doesn't belong and set something off.

            "But of course, Tabitha, and what a fine girl she is!  I really couldn't have asked for a better Heir," Cassandra answered with a hint of genuine pride.  "I'm beginning her lessons today.  That's actually why I summoned you here, my good friend."

            "I'm afraid I don't follow you," the witch admitted.  "I don't know where I fit in here.  I lifted the curse as you demanded.  What could you possibly need from me?"

            "Advice," the vampire replied matter-of-factly.  "You see, Kay's climb to the top will not happen without a fight, and the forces of good seem to be stationed here in Harmony almost as strongly as those of your bosses.  If I'm to prepare Kay to face them, I need to have a better understanding of just how they work, and seeing as you're currently on the front line, I thought you might be a good consultant."

            "Is that all?" Tabitha asked, privately thinking that that was a pretty flimsy reason to bring her in.

            "Not quite," Cassandra admitted nonchalantly.  "There is one more thing, but I'd rather discuss it without the, uh, audience," she explained, gesturing towards Timmy.

            "Timmy and his Princess are a team!" the boy exclaimed indignantly, resenting the implication that he would not be privy to something vital.

            "He's right," Tabitha stated, glaring at Cassandra.  "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of my Timmy."

            Cassandra laughed scornfully.  "Oh, really?  Are we talking about the same "lad" who has repeatedly betrayed you, has repeatedly saved that Charity girl, and others, against your explicit command, and who has even forced you to rescue your own mortal enemy?  I'm terribly sorry, but I'd prefer that what I have to discuss remains between us two.  He can stay here; we'll speak in an adjoining chamber."

            "Oh, alright," Tabitha relented reluctantly.  "I'll be back in a few minutes, Tim Tim.  In the meantime, do try to stay out of trouble."

*****

            No sooner had Tabitha and Cassandra left, however, than Timmy had immediately begun to explore the chamber.  He had never seen such a wide array of strange and powerful-looking gadgets and objects, and could not help being fascinated by them.

            Searching the room methodically, Timmy had before long examined as much as he could without actually touching anything.  Impulsive he may be, but even he had enough sense to know that messing with a device of an obvious mystical nature could have some nasty and unforeseeable consequences.  That large golden three-lensed telescope over in the corner, for example, might look harmless, but who knew what would happen to you if you actually rested your eyes on the eyepiece to look through it?

            Once he had finished with all of the interesting contraptions, Timmy turned his attention to the library.  The shelves reached up far above his head, making it impossible to read most of the titles, though that hardly appeared to make much of a difference, seeing as most of the books that he could see were apparently written in other languages, many of which Timmy could not even recognize as an actual language he'd seen.

            A few titles, though, were legible, and Timmy could tell from this limited sample that these texts covered a wide range of subjects, though they all appeared to be of a similar nature.  From Darkest Magicks to Hell: A Visitor's Guide to Vampyr Psychology: How to Nurture Your Inner Daemon, Timmy got the feeling that he wouldn't be finding a Chicken Soup book or anything by Laura Ingalls Wilder tucked in the collection.

            "Wow, Cassandra's library makes Tabitha's look downright pathetic!" Timmy noted in a whisper, as he continued to peruse the stacks.  Once he had gotten far enough in, though, Timmy noticed something that was not visible to someone who had just entered the room.  Tucked in a corner was an old cherry desk, covered with various old papers, and, in the center, a massive old book.

            His curiosity perking up, Timmy investigated the desk, his attention coming to rest on the book itself.  Not only was it huge, but it must also be absolutely ancient, judging by the yellowed, tattered paper and the faded ink.  In fact, he judged that, should he touch the pages, the edges would most likely crumble in his hand.

            Idly, Timmy turned his attention to the writing on the pages, expecting the script to be in some mysterious language.  To his surprise, though, he found that the book was indeed written in English, and indeed appeared to be a spell book of some kind.  Lacking anything else to do, the boy began to read, and slowly, his eyes opened wide in astonishment.  Simple ingredients, simple incantation, and the words themselves…

            Could it be?  Was it possible that the lost book Tabitha had spoken of was not destroyed at all, but had instead been secretly procured long ago by Cassandra?  To Timmy's magically untrained eyes, it surely seemed to be the very spell that he had despaired of ever being found!  He would show the spell to Tabitha, and surely she'd know whether or not it was the real thing.  Maybe, then, Ivy really could be helped after all!

            In his excitement, Timmy almost ripped the page right out of the book, before realizing that, of course, Cassandra would instantly know what he had done as soon as she saw her defaced text.  Frowning, Timmy wondered how he could possibly show it to Tabitha, when he remembered the pen and paper that he had hurriedly stuffed into his pocket earlier that day.

            Taking out the sheet of paper, he smoothed it out and turned it over, so as not to have to squeeze in the ingredients and incantations in between notes pertaining to Hidden Passions 2 (Timmy really needs to come up with a catchier name, he thought to himself before turning his attention back to the more immediate issue at hand), and copied out the spell as hurriedly as he could.  Then, afraid that Tabitha and Cassandra would return to find him nosing around, he ran back to the main area of the chamber.

            Not long after he returned, the duo returned, Cassandra's expression unreadable and Tabitha's fairly sour.  After briskly saying goodbye, Tabitha turned to leave, and Timmy followed cheerfully, secretly congratulating himself on a job well done.