Selenity owns Fire Blossom, Annabellina and Frank. Nyneve owns Saxen Maverick and Moksha. All other characters belong to whoever owned them.

Chapter 4

Worry. Awakening. Conversing.

"I don't like this," Fire Blossom crossed her arms.

"Really?" Maverick took another sip of coffee and shrugged, "for a romance, it's okay."

"Oh, sure. It seems okay, but then, all of a sudden, BAM!" She smacked her hand down on the armrest of her chair, "It all goes to hell."

"He'll wake up, Effie."

"But will he? How can we know?"

"Washu told us-"

"He'll come back. Sure. That's what all those psychos say. 'The voices told me they would come back'. Oh my god! We're serial killers!"

"We aren't serial killers," Maverick somehow managed to keep her cool demeanor while her non-canine partner went into hysterics.

"We're not?" She calmed down slightly, and looked hopefully at her friend.

"No," Maverick took a long swallow, "we've only killed one person. We're just murderers now. We won't be serial killers until we've got at least three."

"I'm pretty sure it was only a forest animal, Miss-" Carl reached the campsite only to find it empty. The fire lay smoldering…someone had stamped it out partially. The two strange women were gone, along with Van Helsing.

"Maybe he-" Carl smiled broadly at that idea but quickly shook it out of his mind. Van Helsing would never do something like that. He didn't like to have fun.

Van Helsing lay on the cool operating table. The metal was shining and clean, and reflected the unshaven man lying limply on top of it. He was dead. It was obvious, even to a casual observer. His chest did not rise and fall. His face did not so much as twitch. And there was a bullet hole through his heart. But, although he was clearly dead, he was not pallid, as the dead usually are. He looked healthy and strong. Except that he was dead.

But then, in a split second, he was not dead. His eyes flashed open, he gave a great shuddering gasp and he ceased to be dead.

He sat up slowly. Where was he? He felt a chill and looked down. Someone had removed his jacket and shirt. There it was. Gingerly, he fingered the deformed flesh around the hole where the bullet had entered. It was sore to the touch, but it did not bleed. Feeling the burn of eyes on his back, he turned cautiously.

"You have, like the sexiest muscles I have ever seen," she said solemnly.

"Uh…thanks…" he looked around nervously. He was in some strangely silvery room, like nothing he had seen before. There were many metal instruments on various tables. Turning back to the girl, who was still watching him stoically, he strived valiantly to recall who she was.

"I'm really glad you finally got up. I was afraid you were actually dead," she told him. It jogged his memory. She was the friend of the woman who killed him. Or, he thought had killed him. He really wasn't sure what was going on. But she was not good news. That much he was sure of.

"You are witches…." He growled, drawing a knife out of his boot. He should have suspected as much. Fooling him with mock heroics. Lulling him into a false sense of security so they could spring their wicked trap. Effie chuckled nervously.

"No, really not. Please put that away." Hopping off the table he advanced on her, knife at the ready.

"I'm really not comfortable with violence," she tried again to reason with him, but with no result. She looked around frantically then sighed.

"I am a pacifist," she began, and Van Helsing found himself held in place by some kind of invisible force. He strained against it, but to no avail. Effie began to pace around the room, as though she was debating, "I have always believed there is a non-violent answer to every problem. Fighting has never been the intelligent solution. However…" his knife was ripped out of his hand and embedded itself into the wall, "When some people are so pig-headed that violence is the only answer…" she stepped so she was only a few inches away from him and held up her hand. A tiny flame danced above each finger. Her eyes had gone almost completely gold, "I will not run and hide like a screaming little girl. Okay?"

He shut his eyes and turned his head, expecting her to burn him. She reached out as though she did indeed mean to char his face, but at the last minute, her hand relaxed and the flames disappeared. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder and he opened his eyes in surprise. Her eyes which had been so intimidating a moment ago were now their usual soft brown. She removed her hand and smiled at him.

"Can I call you Vanmeister?"

"No…"

"How about Vanny?"

"No…"
"What about…" she ran her tongue over her lips, thinking hard, "Elsie?"

"Elsie?" He arched his eyebrows.

"You know, from Helsing."

"You can call me Van Helsing, or just Van," he decided. Fire Blossom shook her head.

"You know, either you and Saxie were separated at birth," she glanced over his shoulder where the bounty hunter stood, "or…maybe you're soul mates."

"I could have handled him."

"I know," Effie rifled through the freezer.

"So why didn't you let me?"

"It was a demonstration."

"For who?"

Finally discovering an orange Popsicle, the hitchhiker put it into her mouth and smiled.

Fire Blossom stood in her cabin. She was both silent and alone, a rarity for the very sociable girl. Washu had been right when she said they would find everything suited them. Her cabin was perfect. Three of the walls, and the ceiling were made of some transparent material. She could see the stars, and watch space rush past. It was exhilarating. Becoming one with the universe was almost inevitable in a room like this.

Someone knocked on the door. With a slight twitch of her hand, the release button pressed itself and the door opened. It was Van Helsing. She did not turn away from the beautiful expanse in front of her.

"Fire Blossom?"

"Effie, please," she murmured.

"Effie, then," he looked very uncomfortable and at last she turned away and smiled at him.

"Saxie threatened to gut you if you didn't apologize, right?"

"I normally don't follow orders," he smiled slightly, "but Mistress Maverick is very…convincing. I also seem to be captive on your strange-"

"You're not a captive," Effie said quickly, cutting him off, "that would be totally anti-liberty and all that. Completely dictator. We're not like that."

"You did kill me," he pointed out, "And bring me aboard this…ship."

"It's nothing personal," she offered with a shrug, "It's our mission, not to mention your destiny."

"Destiny," he grumbled, coming to stand next to her, "I've had quite enough destiny to last me an eternity."

"It's not so bad. Then again, I haven't got one I know of so, not the best source. All I know is, you can't escape it. You were born God of the Hunt. Can't change it."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Very true."

"Effie," he turned partway towards her, "if you truly are not a witch, where do your powers come from?"

"I'm Connected."

"But what does that mean."

"It means what it means."

"But what?"

"The meaning." He growled in frustration and she smiled sadly, "I'd like to tell you, but…I won't. All I'll say is, no, I'm not a witch, and I wasn't born with these powers. Is that good for now?"

"I suppose," he grumbled, crossing his arms.

"That's good, cause it's all you're getting," she batted his arm playfully, "Now that we're through with that, let's talk about something important…"

Saxen was in her own cabin, reading. She turned a dusty page and absentmindedly patted Moksha, who was lying next to the chair she sat in. Her tranquil atmosphere was shattered by a piercing shriek. She stood up immediately.

"Effie."