La Femme Serena
by Aglaia
WARNING: This chapter is rated R for violence.
Read at your own discretion.
---
Chapter 4: Mission: Impossible
Seiya sat in his closed office and stared at
the paperwork on his desk. There were dozens of
things he should have been doing at that moment,
but he wasn't doing any of them. Instead, he was
thinking about Serena.
He knew her every move. He could recite the
key components of her profile perfectly from memory.
It was beginning to worry him how much time he spent
thinking about her. He had her schedule memorized
and knew where she was at almost every second of the
day; he was practically becoming a stalker!
He told himself that he was merely keeping a
close eye on the newest recruit. After all, Serena
was in a critical period of her training, and it was
more important than ever that she be closely
monitored. The reason for this was simple: some
years before his time, a group of recruits had
secretly banded together and gone rogue. It had
taken seven long years to destroy that splinter
group, a difficult task that he had helped to bring
to a successful conclusion. Needless to say, the
Project was not eager for it to happen again.
The issue settled in his mind, he finally
began wading through the work that was piled up on
his desk. However, even as he turned his full
attention to the latest operational briefing, deep
in his subconscious there was an uneasily nagging
disquiet, warning him that the problem had not been
truly resolved.
---
When Serena stepped from the elevator and
onto the sixth level, she felt a familiar sense of
homecoming. The warm atmosphere of Trista's place
never failed to relax and welcome her. She
breathed in the faint smell of sandalwood and
peppermint and sighed in contentment. Her
sessions with Trista would soon be finished, and
Serena knew that she would miss their time
together.
Trista had become a surrogate mother for
her, someone she could turn to for advice, as well
as providing a shoulder to cry on when Serena
could tough it out no longer. Serena respected
and admired Trista above anyone she had ever met.
Trista's serenity and grace were nothing when
compared with her warm, loving nature.
Over the course of their acquaintance,
Trista had shown Serena how to walk as if she were
gliding, how to apply make-up, how to select the
proper wine to accompany any meal, and how to
make polite conversation. Trista nurtured in
Serena an impeccable taste and a unique sense of
style. Under her tutelage, Serena became more
soft-spoken and feminine.
In addition to all this, Trista had added
another dimension to Serena's personality.
Gradually refining Serena's tastes, Trista
imparted to her a deep love and appreciation of
art and culture. Together, they discussed poetry,
music, and painting; they debated the merits of
cubism and the true authorship of Shakespeare's
plays.
Most of all, Serena would forever be
indebted to Trista for introducing her to Mozart.
Never before had she been so moved by music. In
her youth, Serena had been accustomed to think of
classical music as boring; it was something that
old people listened to. Now, whenever she was
upset or had had a particularly rough day, Serena
would lock herself in her room and relax to the
strains of Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G Minor; it
never failed to center and calm her. The music
resonated deep within her and helped her put
everything in perspective. Serena was forever
amazed at the way the harmonic and melodic lines
were intricately interwoven, passing from one
instrument to another and back again. Sometimes
she would trace the path of a single instrument
from start to finish; at other times, she would
sit back and listen to the beautiful way all the
instruments came together to make an astounding
whole. It was passionate and vibrant, and the
music had a depth and character that she had never
experienced before.
Shakespeare had said, "If music be the food
of love, play on," but Serena truly believed that
music was the food of the soul. It nourished her
spirit, and Serena rejoiced in it. There existed
such a wide variety of composers and pieces to
explore, something for every taste and every mood.
Sometimes the music told a story or painted a
scene; other times it expressed the emotions of a
moment, and Serena couldn't help feeling happier
after listening.
Serena now walked toward the designated
meeting place, following the soft, luscious
strains of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade into a
room decorated in a Victorian style. The hardwood
floors were partially covered with beautiful rugs
and authentic Chippendale furniture. Serena
gingerly sat down on the settee to the swelling
sounds of Sinbad's ship at sea. Trista greeted
her with one of her usual comforting smiles and
poured tea from the Wedgwood china.
"Hello, Serena. How are you today?" Trista
asked as she handed Serena a teacup and saucer.
"Oh, very well, thank you. And yourself?"
Serena inquired in lilting tones.
"I, too, am well. You must be excited that
your sessions will soon be over."
"How can you say that, Trista? You know
perfectly well how much I will miss you," Serena
chided gently.
"Thank you for the compliment, my dear. I
will miss you also. You are my best student, and
I am so very proud of you. Remember that you are
always welcome here. If you ever need someone to
talk to . . ."
Serena was touched by the gesture. "Thank
you for allowing me into your home. I will never
forget everything you have done for me."
It was nothing, my dear. You did everything
yourself. I only pointed you in the right
direction. And now, you will have to undergo your
final test to pass my sessions."
"A test? What is it?"
"Tomorrow night, you will attend a formal
dinner. Someone will pick you up from your room
at six o'clock. If, at the dinner, you show
yourself to be everything I know you to be, your
lessons with me will be complete."
This was somewhat unexpected. Serena had
undergone testing at the end of each of her other
sets of lessons, but how was one to be tested in
etiquette and comportment?
Trista smoothly set down her own teacup and
placed the saucer on the table. She quickly left
the room, and when she came back, she was holding
a beautiful evening gown.
"I want you to wear this tomorrow night,"
she said.
Serena eyed the gown in astonishment. It
was made of white chiffon, silk and lace. The
neckline was square and decorated with gold lace.
The diaphanous, sheer material was gathered under
the breasts and flowed naturally down to the
ankle. It had short, puffed sleeves, and the
dress was seeded with tiny pearls with white and
gold embroidery.
"Oh! It's so beautiful! I couldn't,"
Serena protested.
"Of course you could. This was my wedding
dress," Trista said in a surprising revelation.
"I always meant to give it to my daughter one day.
When my husband died, I gave up any hope of doing
that, but you . . .you have exceeded my every
expectation, and you have given me new hope. You
are like a daughter to me. Nothing would please
me more than for you to have this dress."
"Oh, Trista!" Serena cried as she threw
herself into the older woman's arms. Never before
had Trista revealed so much about herself.
Together, they both shed tears for what could have
been.
Trista regained control of herself before
Serena did, but instead of pushing Serena away,
Trista gently caressed her now waist-length hair
and murmured soothing sounds in her ear.
"Shh ... shhh .... It's ok."
When Serena had dried her tears, she
gratefully accepted the dress, but promised to
save it for some other special occasion. "Thank
you, Trista. You have given me everything I have
that is worth having," she whispered tenderly,
referring to more than just the gown.
With a final hug, Serena took the dress and
left.
Trista followed Serena's departing form with
sorrowful eyes and lips pressed together. Filled
with deep regret and concern, she almost didn't
notice someone entering the room behind her.
"Thank you for doing this," a bass voice
said.
Trista replied without turning around, "Do
we really have to go through with this?"
"You know we have to," said Seiya, as he
came to stand next to her. "She doesn't have a
choice. Neither did you; neither did I."
"She deserves one," Trista asserted. "She
deserves better."
"We all do," Seiya replied sadly.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Trista
said, biting her lip to keep from crying.
"Me too," he said sincerely, more to himself
than to Trista. "Me too."
---
Serena spent the next day preparing for her
evening test. She mentally went over everything
she had learned, but felt more nervous than ever.
She realized, going over her notes, that it had
been almost two years since she had begun her
training.
"Can it have been that long?" In
some ways, it seemed like it was years ago that
she had been living on the streets, without a
penny to her name, scraping by from day to day.
Idly, she wondered when it would all be over,
"When will it end for me?"
As she dressed and made herself up for the
dinner, Serena wondered how this test would
proceed. Her previous tests had been either
written or practical, and it seemed likely that
this would be a practical test. "A formal
dinner. Perhaps I'll have to play the perfect
hostess. I wonder if there will be many guests,
or maybe just myself and the adjudicator."
Serena had decided definitely against
wearing Trista's dress. It was too special for
such an unworthy occasion. Instead, she chose a
backless, pale pink dress of silk with an
asymmetrical hemline and a halter-style neckline
that was gathered into a small, jeweled knot
before it passed around her neck. The dress
hugged her curves in all the right places. She
wore simple pearl earrings, a gauzy shawl in a
darker shade of pink, and rose-colored satin
pumps. Her hair was swept up messily with pins
and secured loosely at the crown of her head with
a pink ribbon in a style that Trista had taught
her; curled little tendrils fell disarmingly
around her face, neck, and shoulders. She curled
her lashes expertly and lengthened them with light
mascara. She applied silver eye shadow to her
eyelids that shimmered iridescently. Lastly, she
brushed her lips with a pale, pink gloss that made
her lips shine.
She was finally ready, and precisely at six
o'clock, a knock sounded on her door. When she
opened it, she was shocked to see Seiya standing
on the other side, holding a single, long-stemmed,
fuchsia pink rose. Seiya was dressed immaculately
in a black suit; he wore a pressed, wine-colored
shirt and a slim, glossy, black euro-tie made of
Italian silk. His black dress shoes were shined
to perfection, and diamonds glinted from his left
ear and both of his cuffs. His long hair was tied
back in its usual ponytail at the nape of his
neck, while unruly bangs hung roguishly in his
eyes.
"Serena..." he said breathlessly, "you
look... beautiful."
"Thank you," she blushed.
He handed her the rose, and she accepted it
gracefully, holding it briefly to her nose. He
then offered her his arm; when she accepted, he
threaded her arm through his and tucked her small
hand in the crook of his elbow. They walked
toward an elevator together.
"I thought I'd treat you tonight," Seiya
said.
"Oh? How so?" Serena inquired politely.
"Well, tonight you are finally going to get
your wish."
'My wish?' Serena thought back to the
night of her birthday, and her heart began to
race. 'Does he mean...?'
"Tonight, I'm taking you to a restaurant - a
real restaurant, in the real world. You're
finally allowed to go outside."
"Oh. That wish," Serena replied. Her heart
sank a little when she realized what he was
talking about, but she quickly suppressed her
feelings. 'Silly! How could you ever think that
he meant . . .' She pasted on a cheerful smile.
"Thank you. This means a lot to me."
Seiya didn't seem to notice her
disappointment.
When they got into the elevator, Seiya
entered a ten-digit code and said, "Ground level."
The doors slid silently open to reveal a granite
foyer with cream-colored marble floors, a large
and heavy reception desk made of mahogany and
reinforced with steel, and a crystal chandelier
that bathed the room in golden light. It looked
pretty much like the main floor of any office
building. Seiya nodded curtly to the
receptionist. Escorting Serena to the glass
double-doors, he let go of Serena's arm only to
open the door for her.
Despite her previous disappointment, Serena
was now becoming more and more excited at the
prospect of her first trip outdoors in nearly two
years. She elatedly stepped through the opened
door and took a deep breath of fresh air once she
was outside.
"Finally," she breathed.
Seiya gave her a few minutes to enjoy the
moment and then placed his hand at the small of
her back to direct her to the waiting, white,
stretched limousine. Tingles traveled up and down
Serena's spine when Seiya touched her. She gladly
slid across the soft, black, leather seats in the
limo to make room for Seiya, who soon slid in next
to her. They hadn't said much to each other so
far, and Seiya seemed to understand that Serena
needed some space in order to absorb everything.
They were both content to ride the rest of
the way to the restaurant in silence. Serena was
eagerly taking in all the sights: the brightly lit
office buildings, the sparkling stars, and the
pale crescent moon that hung in the sky. She was
surprised to find herself in her hometown of
Ottawa, but magic had somehow filled the night.
Serena looked upon familiar landmarks with new
eyes, as if seeing them for the first time.
Seiya spent that time watching Serena,
admiring her beauty, taking pleasure from her
enjoyment of the ride. He was pleased to notice
that Serena never once let go of the rose.
When they reached the restaurant, the valet
held the doors open for them, and they walked
inside. It was obviously a swanky, upscale place.
There were small booths and table scattered around
the spacious but innovative design. Contemporary
art hung on the walls, and decorative chandeliers
hung from the ceiling. There was a quiet murmur
of conversation from the other guests that was
almost drowned out by the moving strains from the
string quartet playing in a nearby alcove. The
maître d'hôtel guided them to their table. Seiya
immediately ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon. The
waiter soon brought them a bottle of the house's
finest, a Vintage Rosé 1993. Once Seiya had
approved the choice, the waiter poured it out into
two tulip shaped flutes for them.
"To you, Serena - the most beautiful and
talented operative I have ever met," Seiya
toasted.
They briefly touched glasses, and the
melodic chime echoed in Serena's ears. They each
took a small sip of champagne; the savory aromas
and rich bouquets attacked their palates, while
the effervescent bubbles tickled their upper lips.
Then, Seiya further surprised Serena by handing
her a flat box, roughly the size of a hardcover
book, elegantly wrapped in bright paper and
ribbons.
"For me?" Serena flushed slightly in
pleasure.
"For you," Seiya acknowledged.
For the first time in her life, Serena felt
special. Here she was in an impossibly expensive
restaurant, sipping the finest champagne, having
dinner with an incredibly handsome man,
chauffeured there in an extravagant limousine, and
the recipient of a wonderfully wrapped gift.
"May I open it?" Serena asked eagerly.
Seiya nodded his approval.
Serena enthusiastically ripped off the
ribbons and tore open the paper; these she
discarded in the wanton manner of a young child.
Revealed inside was a rectangular, lacquered,
cherry-wood box that was a little heavy. Serena
flashed him a grin of excitement and opened the
box.
Revealed inside was a SigSauer 9mm gun with
two spare clips.
Serena's eyes widened from shock.
Ignoring her reaction, Seiya began his
rehearsed speech. "It's loaded," he told her.
"Seated at the table behind you are two men and a
woman. One man is an international arms' dealer,
the other man is his bodyguard. Once I have left,
I want you to put at least two rounds in the
dealer - at least two. To your left is a hallway
that will lead you to the restrooms. In the men's
restroom, in the last stall, there is a small
window. Open the window and crawl through. A car
will be waiting for you in the alley outside.
Please wait until I leave."
Throughout his speech, Serena had been
unable to speak or move. Frozen in shock, she had
nonetheless understood his instructions. Seiya
now stood up to leave. He re-buttoned one of the
buttons of his suit jacket.
"Good luck," were his last words.
As he walked away, Serena finally crashed
back to reality. Oh, how she wished it were all a
bad dream. Gone, now, were all her fantasies
about a romantic dinner for two. It always came
back to this, whether at the complex or here on
the outside, with Seiya it was always about work.
'Everything was about work,' she realized.
Numbness crept through her and froze her heart.
She would never be able to escape her work, and
she could never look at Seiya in the same way
again.
These thoughts had flown through her mind in
a matter of seconds. Now she took the gun from
the dark red velvet in which it was nestled, her
mind feeling somehow detached from her body.
Serena held the gun under the table and worked the
action to chamber the first round. She silently
hid the two spare clips into compartments of her
dress and slipped off her shoes - after all, she
couldn't be expected to carry out her mission in
high heels. Lastly, she downed the rest of her
champagne in one gulp to steel her nerves. Part
of her was appalled at chugging what must surely
cost almost four hundred dollars a bottle, but the
magic of the night was gone. The champagne had
turned sour in her mouth. 'What a waste,' she
thought in a detached corner of her mind.
She smoothly got up from her table and
turned to look at the one behind her. She slowly
walked over to the table of three, using her body
to shield the gun from sight. As she came within
two feet of the table and its occupants, they
turned towards her in surprise. Taking advantage
of the psychological moment that existed before
they realized she was a threat, Serena quickly
brought her two hands together on the grip of her
weapon and aimed it at the chest of the tall,
bulky one who could barely fit into his expensive
Italian suit. 'The bodyguard,' she deduced
mentally. At such close range, Serena didn't even
have to make use of the tritium-coated sights on
her weapon. She depressed the trigger twice, as
she had been trained to, not flinching in the
slightest from the recoil.
Screaming erupted all over the restaurant,
and chaos ensued as patrons and staff alike all
clawed desperately to get away from the "madwoman"
with the gun. Dispassionately, Serena noted that
blood was spreading rapidly from the bodyguard's
wounds even as she ignored the shrieking and
hysterical woman to take careful aim at the arms
dealer's head. The dealer's eyes were widened in
shock when Serena turned her gun on him and fired
three times into his head and chest. He slumped
onto the table. There could be no doubt that he
was dead, and Serena didn't even bother to check
for a pulse.
By now, adrenaline was pumping through
Serena's system, and it prevented her from
reacting to her first taking of a life. She ran
down the designated hallway and into the empty
men's restroom. She didn't even pause to notice
the elegant, black marble floors and counters or
the classy gold décor. Following her
instructions, she made her way swiftly to the last
stall in the row and pushed back the black metal
door.
She set down her gun on the sill as she
tried to force open the long unused window. The
square portal of frosted glass was roughly 40 cm
in width and height, easily big enough to fit her
slim body through. When she finally slid the
window open, what she found shocked her
motionless.
It was bricked shut.
She stood gaping at the red brick for a few
seconds, unable to understand what she was seeing,
her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. Then,
overwhelmed by fury and fear, Serena began to
scream and pound her fists futilely against the
brick, which didn't give a millimeter against her
frustration. Finally, once her rage was spent,
she stopped bruising her fists against the brick.
She picked up her weapon, stumbled unsteadily out
of the stall, and leaned wearily against the back
wall. She pressed her sweaty forehead against the
cool marble. "What am I going to do?" she
wondered desperately.
She knew that the arms dealer must have had
other bodyguards who would now be looking for her,
but she was unprepared when one burst into the
restroom.
He seemed equally surprised to see her. He
was apparently not expecting to find a woman in the
men's restroom. Astonishment held him still for a few
moments, and Serena turned slowly to face him
while keeping her gun out of sight behind her.
She smiled winningly at the guard, and he
subconsciously responded by lowering his gun. Few
could withstand the full force of Serena's
charming smile, and it didn't even occur to the
guard that she might be the very assassin he was
looking for.
It was a mistake he would not live to make
again.
Serena effortlessly brought out her gun and
loosed her last round at his head. He fell
backward when the 9mm cartridge impacted his skull
and passed completely through his head.
Now, alerted by the report of the weapon,
the bodyguards' search would surely narrow on her
location. Serena knew she had to escape quickly,
and it was obvious that the front door was out of
the question. But surely, the restaurant must
have a service door. She made a split-second
decision to head toward the kitchen. As she ran
down the vacated hallway, she ejected the empty
magazine and slid a new one in place.
She reached the kitchen without incident and
propelled herself through the crowded place,
dodging chefs, sous-chefs, busboys, and waiters.
Still unaware of what had happened in the dining
area of the restaurant, they regarded her
strangely, but didn't impede her progress. When
she was halfway to the back door, shots exploded a
ceramic jar five centimeters from her head.
Serena immediately ducked down behind the
stainless steel counters and blessed the fact that
this restaurant was wealthy enough to afford such
expensive kitchen accoutrements.
The other kitchen staff soon followed her
example as bullets rained down in the kitchen from
the semi-automatic fire of two bodyguards. In a
momentary silence, Serena slowly peeked over the
counters and identified the two large men in
expensive suits shielding themselves just on the
other side of the kitchen door. They were using
Hechler & Koch MP-10 submachine guns, and it was
obvious that they didn't care that innocent people
might get caught in the crossfire. Serena crawled
to the end of the counter and loosed several
rounds at the kitchen door without aiming, while
she simultaneously made a short run to the safety
of the next counter. She was now only a few
meters from the back door, but the rest of the way
was completely open and without any kind of
protection.
The guards chose that moment to return fire
and sprayed the counter she was hiding behind with
a series of three-round bursts. Serena crouched
low behind the counter and instinctively protected
her head with her arms as bullets ricocheted off
pots and pans, and food, glass, and ceramic debris
from dishes showered everywhere.
When the bodyguards next paused in their
firing, Serena aimed more carefully around the
side of the counter. She succeeded in catching
one of the guards in the shoulder that was
sticking out from the threshold of the kitchen
door. 'Ok,' she thought, 'One down - at least
temporarily- one more to go. Now's my chance. I
have to get to that door!' Serena decided to
take a gamble while the wounded guard was still
incapacitated and pushed off from the barricaded
counter toward the back door. As she slid the
rest of the way to the door on her back, she
emptied the rest of her magazine at the remaining
guard. He, too, went down.
Serena picked herself up and dashed out the
back door into an alleyway. She half expected to
find a car waiting there for her, but was
disappointed to find the alley empty of everything
except a garbage dumpster. "I should have
known," she thought bitterly.
At that moment, it began to rain. Serena
forced herself into a jog that retraced her drive
to the restaurant from the complex. Her last
thought, as she distanced herself from the
restaurant and the wailing sirens of the
approaching emergency vehicles, was: "I'm gonna
kill that bastard!"
---
Hours later, when Serena finally stumbled
back into the complex, she ignored the odd glances
from the receptionist/guard and stepped into the
elevator. She gratefully propped herself up
against the elevator walls. She was totally
drenched: her dress was completely ruined, her
hair was plastered to her forehead and had long
since fallen out of its up-do, and she was
shivering from the cold.
She tiredly walked from the elevator to her
room. When she opened her door, Serena was
surprised to see Seiya sitting calmly at her desk,
waiting for her.
"The window. It was bricked closed!" she
told him in an expressionless, tired voice.
He merely smiled and said, "Of course it was."
The reality, that this had all been part of
the test, crashed down on Serena. She stood there
in the doorway for a moment, unable to comprehend
the situation. The brutality of it all! Then,
shock turned to indignation and fury. It was the
final straw coming on top of the reaction from
what she had experienced already. She completely
came undone and lost what little was left of her
sanity. With an inarticulate cry, Serena launched
herself at him with all of her remaining strength.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she screeched, arms
flailing, legs kicking, as she attacked him in
blind rage. He grabbed her, but she continued to
struggle and they fell to the floor. She beat her
fists against his chest, half weeping, and half
screaming in hysteria. Finally, he pinned her
down under him to stop her, but she didn't stop.
"It was a test! It's all over now! It's
over!" he shouted at her, trying to stop her
madness. "It's over! You get out tomorrow! You
get out tomorrow!" he kept repeating.
Gradually, his words penetrated the fog in
her mind. Serena stopped struggling, and her sobs
became whimpers as she cried for the terrible
things she had done that night.
"Shh... shh.... It's over. You get out tomorrow.
It's over." Seiya continued to whisper to her as
he cradled her body close, warming her shivering
form with his.
Serena shed her last tear and shakily tried
to take a deep breath but found it difficult
because Seiya was still lying on top of her, his
weight pressing down on her.
"It's over. You get out tomorrow," he was
still repeating, looking down at her tear-stained
face, caressing her rain-soaked hair.
As they stared at each other, a strange awareness
crept over her. Their bodies were pressed together
intimately, touching almost everywhere. Serena
noticed the strange light in his eyes and wondered
what it meant.
Her question was answered when Seiya leaned down
and pressed his lips to hers. Passionately, he
engulfed her mouth, and she found herself responding
in kind. A burst of warmth started inside her at the
pressure of his mouth against hers. Her heart rate
accelerated, and it began to beat erratically.
One of his hands cradled the back of her neck,
supporting her; the other hand slid down to caress
her curves. He ran his tongue along the seam of
her soft lips, and she parted them in response.
He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and tasted
her as she had never been tasted before. Consumed
by the moment, Serena didn't stop to reflect on her
reactions. Their tongues continued to dance
together in a warring battle until they were both
breathless.
As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Seiya
abruptly pulled his body off Serena's and stood up.
She immediately felt the absence of his warmth.
Refusing to meet her gaze, he continued to stand
stiffly next to her, his eyes darting nervously
around the room.
Why was he being so cold and distant all of a
sudden? Was she so disgusting to him that he
couldn't even look at her? It was her first kiss,
and Serena wondered desperately what she had done
wrong. A sick feeling hit the pit of her stomach
as the next thought formed in her mind: was this
another twisted kind of test??
She silently took hold of herself, forcing back
the bitter emotions. Pasting a blank mask on her
face, she stood up slowly. She didn't even glance
at him as she walked to the bathroom adjoining her
room. Serena paused briefly in the doorway and
turned back to face him.
She stared bleakly into his eyes. "I'll
never kiss you again," she told him in a soft
voice that carried nonetheless. "Never."
With that simple statement, Serena entered
the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
---
AN: Wow! Some tense moments there, huh? Did anyone
Recognize the dress Trista gave to Serena?
Where will Serena go from here, now that her
training is over? How will Seiya react to what has
happened? Stay tuned to find out!
For anybody interested in reading about a REAL
debate over who actually wrote Shakespeare's plays
(or for anyone who's a true lover of English
literature), I highly recommend Jasper Fforde's
"The Eyre Affair." It's one of the best (and
funniest) books I've read in a long time, and it's
a sure-fire hit for any J.K. Rowling fan.
The quotation, "If music be the food of love,
play on," comes from Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night"
(or "What You Will"), Act I, Scene 1, line 2.
Thanks to all you reviewers out there! To me,
REVIEWS are the food of . . .well, more chapters I
guess. I want lots before I "write on!" :)
Next chapter: Serena leaves the complex and
prepares herself for a life as an operative.
Aglaia
