"Mister Zelgadis, wait for me!" Amelia gasped. If she didn't know better, she'd think that Zelgadis wanted to lose her. She was all but running to keep up with him. They were following Jillas's directions in an attempt to find the girl that he'd come across earlier that day with Gourry.
Zelgadis sighed and reluctantly slowed his pace a bit—enough for the beautiful acrobat to draw even with him. He gazed into her eyes and forced a smile; she'd know that he wasn't happy, but at least she'd see that he was making an effort for her benefit.
Amelia smiled shyly in return. Neither of them was particularly pleased with what had happened, but at least she was trying to be positive about it. She stared at him intently for a moment before her face lit up again. "Okay, I'm thinking of something. . ."
"It's Jillas," he replied coolly as a fuzzy image of the werefox formed in his head. "Can we please drop this? I'm not in the mood for it right now." He didn't like being poked and prodded at the best of times. Now was not one of those times. Amelia's line of questioning served only to remind him that there was something intrinsically different between him and the rest of the world.
"Well . . ." Amelia said, looking repentant, "if you really want to, I guess. I didn't mean to bother . . ."
"Thanks," Zelgadis said, cutting off her in mid apology. They walked on in silence for a moment before he sighed and turned towards her. First he was asking her to leave him alone and now he was about to ask her a question. He couldn't be happy at either extreme, it seemed. He liked talking to her—she was far more reasonable than Lina—but he didn't like talking about himself.
"So," he ventured, clearing his throat, "why are you so keen to find . . ."
"Because, it's the right thing to do," Amelia interjected with a waggle of her finger. "I'd feel terrible if we didn't try to help poor Marco. Especially after all he's been through. First he loses his friend, and then he gets attacked by a vampire. It's just not fair." She sighed sadly and spent the next few moments staring at her feet, lost in thought.
"I'm sure Marco's fine," he said, trying to stem the melancholy feeling he was receiving from Amelia. "Miss Lina too," he added when she looked up at him hopefully, her cerulean eyes glinting. He didn't even notice that he'd used Amelia's term—and a hint of her reverent tone—when speaking of the Slayer. "She's no slouch, you know. She's probably figured everything out already."
"You know, I'll bet you're right!" she cheerfully replied. "Oh, I've got one! It's . . ." She trailed off, remembering that she'd agreed to drop the questions. "Oh, sorry about that!" she said with an embarrassed laugh.
Zelgadis raised an eyebrow. Intriguing. "No, it's all right. Go on," he prodded. He'd gotten a flash—nothing longer than the blink of an eye—before she'd cut the thought short. But, there was something about it that snagged his attention; it was an important memory and he was curious.
"Okay," Amelia replied, shutting her eyes and concentrating. When he didn't immediately respond to her thought, she opened one eye and hopefully asked, "You don't know? I thought that . . ."
Zelgadis shushed her with an impatient wave of his hand. His head was cocked and he was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. At the moment, he was blind—visual capability momentarily overwhelmed by memory—as he scanned the near infinite amount of information in Amelia's subconscious for the image he was seeing. He'd been right in his assumption; whatever this was, it was obviously very important to her, having the feel of a well-read letter from a friend.
Muttering to himself under his breath, Zelgadis ran down the list: circus, circus, tiger, Uncle Christopher, circus, Alfred, chats with Martina, bath time . . . He hesitated a moment and stole a quick glance at Amelia's face. Her expression told him not to even consider it and he grinned apologetically, begrudgingly moved on from what promised to be a soapy good time.
"Your father?" he asked, already knowing that he was right. "But . . ." He examined the image again, taking in the details. Shaking his head in disbelief, he said, "That can't be right. He's got to be fifteen feet tall."
Amelia smiled, but kept her silence. She looked a bit crestfallen.
Zelgadis looked up, seeing only the trees, but at the same time something more. A huge man with wild black hair and a bushy moustache, his face blurry and indistinct, reached down to lift him up. Then the image faded, dissipating like mist in the morning sun.
He shuddered and closed his eyes in an attempt to hold onto the vision. A flash of inspiration told him a few things about the man: he wasn't fifteen feet tall, for one. He was seeing him as Amelia had when she was three years old. To her, he really had been a giant. Secondly, his face was blurred because she had plucked the memory from so long ago. She'd lost him when she was very young. Finally . . .
"He doesn't look anything like you!" Zelgadis exclaimed with a chuckle. Her father's features were indistinct, but still there—wild and rugged. The idea that such a man had fathered a beautiful woman like Amelia boggled the mind. Her mother must have been positively angelic. He briefly considered checking to see, but restrained himself. If she wanted him to know, she'd tell him. He turned to her and smiled. "I mean, it makes sense that you don't have the moustache, but still . . ."
His jest coaxed a polite laugh out of the acrobat, but he didn't sense any real happiness. The impression he received was that she was hoping that he wouldn't know—that maybe there was that small a flaw in his capabilities. Knowing about amorous little daydreams was one thing; having access to her most beloved memories was something quite different.
She wasn't as comfortable around him anymore. He could see it in the way she kept her distance from him—the mistrustful glances she shot him. He knew that she wasn't doing it out of cruelty, but he'd violated her. He hadn't wanted to and he'd tried to make light of it, but it didn't change the fact that it'd happened.
"Do me, boss!" Jillas eagerly exclaimed, momentarily yanking Zelgadis out of his ill mood.
"Do what?" Zelgadis asked, his bewildered expression matching the one that Amelia wore.
"Read m' mind!" the werefox clarified. He screwed his one eye tightly shut and pressed his fingertips to the sides of his furry little skull. "Thinkin', thinkin', thinkin' . . ." he muttered under his breath.
"You're thinking . . ." Zelgadis started to say.
". . . about food," Amelia finished.
Jillas's jaw dropped and he stared at his masters with unbridled awe. "Well, skin me and make me inta a 'at!" he whispered in a shocked tone, "Boss, ye an' Miss Amelia, ye 'ave ISP!"
"Well . . . not really, Mister Jillas," Amelia admitted after a moment. She pointed at a damp spot on the front of his tattered shirt and said, "You've been drooling on yourself for the last hour. It was pretty obvious that you were thinking about food."
The werefox seemed to deflate a bit at that. "Oh. Well, 'ow come ye can see each otha's minds?"
"Oh, that's easy!" Amelia said with a warm smile. "It's because Mister Zelgadis is a monstrous freak!"
Amelia's words hung on the air for a moment. Jillas cringed as if he'd been slapped and stole a terrified look at Zelgadis. For his part, Zelgadis just stared at Amelia, his face betraying no emotion.
Amelia's smile faded when she felt his sudden coolness. Her mouth moved as she quietly repeated her previous words. When she realized what she'd said, her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Mister Zelgadis! I'm sorry! I didn't say that! I was going to say . . ."
Zelgadis shook his head, indicating that he knew. She hadn't meant to insult him. She'd been thinking silly thoughts of destiny and that ridiculous seer, Martina. His feelings had just slipped out of her mouth. It wasn't her fault, but hearing it from her lips—in her sweet voice—was a thousand times worse than thinking it himself. He nodded towards the east where purple skies were gradually giving way to red. "We'd better hurry. The sun's coming up soon." And before Amelia had a chance to protest, he hurried on, leaving her to share an uncomfortable silence with Jillas.
"Almost there, Lina," Gourry whispered to the girl in his arms for what had to be the hundredth time. She couldn't hear him—she'd been sleeping soundly for an hour now—but it made him feel better to say it anyway. He'd gotten turned around a few times on their trip home; it'd been a long time since he left and he wasn't really familiar with the forest at night either.
As a boy, he'd been warned away from wandering in the woods after dark. He vaguely recalled stories told by his mother and grandmother—his father had dismissed them as nonsense—about the things in the forest. Ghost stories, really. Of course, he didn't believe them, but they had made him pause, hadn't they?
And he did pause—glancing around suspiciously as if expecting an attack. It was quiet and dark; time seemed to have stopped somewhere between night and the dawn. That was about all he could tell. The branches of the trees seemed to reach towards him, bending under a wind that wasn't there. A chill ran down his spine and he whipped his head around, positive that there was something behind him.
Unfortunately, he turned too fast and lost his hold on Lina. Maybe it was because he was exhausted, having spent the last twenty-four hours running around trying to make sure Lina didn't get herself killed; maybe it was because he was still a little woozy from blood loss. In any case, the small woman slipped through his fingers as if she were greased. "Whoops," he said with a grimace, as she struck the ground headfirst. She folded up like an accordion.
Well that wasn't good, he thought, looking over his shoulder hopefully. He sighed resignedly when he saw that there wasn't anything there. Great. He'd been hoping for a bear, a werewolf— something that would tear his head off. A hangdog expression on his face, he turned back to find himself looking into a pair of fiery eyes. "Hey, you're awake," he said with a weak chuckle.
"Are you," Lina asked in a dangerous purr—she hissed through clenched teeth when she touched the rapidly rising knot on her head, "trying to kill me?!" She seized Gourry by the front of his shirt and shook him until his teeth rattled. Luckily, she tired rather quickly and ceased her attack in favor of leaning against him for support. "Ugh," she groaned, turning an interesting shade of green.
"I guess you feel a little better, huh?" he replied as soon as his world stopped wobbling. He patted the top of her head affectionately and favored her with a warm smile, as if she hadn't just assaulted him.
"A little . . ." Lina growled, frowning at the way he was treating her. "Well, this is nice," she muttered sarcastically. "Are you going to scratch behind my ears next?" She sighed hopelessly as he shifted his hand to do as she asked. "I didn't really mean . . . Gourry!" Her eyes widened in shock; judging from the look on her face, she'd just remembered the events of the evening. "Why aren't we dead?"
Gourry blinked at her confusedly. "Why would we be dead?" She must be sicker than he thought. Unmindful of the fact that she hated it, he put his hand against her forehead to check her temperature. She was a little warm, but he could probably chalk that up to her getting mad.
"Because, she's the best there is," Lina replied shortly as she squirmed away from his touch. "You saw that. You couldn't do anything against her. Of course." She sounded almost proud when mentioning Luna's trouncing of her protector. "You would have died if I hadn't been there to save you." Apparently, the idea of saving Gourry for once was pretty pleasing to her.
"Well . . . yeah," Gourry admitted after a moment of thought. He absentmindedly reached up to scratch the marks on his throat. Recalling his fight with Luna had made him remember that they itched like mad—almost as much as his hands, but that was probably more due to the poison ivy than the bite. Probably.
Lina slapped him on the back of the hand as if he were a misbehaving child. "Don't pick at them," she sternly instructed. "Honestly, you and Amelia! Do you think you're going to heal properly if you keep scratching your wounds? You'll probably get an infection."
Grinning sheepishly, Gourry dropped his hand back to his side. "Sorry."
"Anyway, I remember fighting her . . . I think. And then we . . ." She glanced down at the tattered remains of her dress—still damp. "We were in the water?" A nod from her protector confirmed her hypothesis. "After that . . ." Her brow furrowed cutely as she struggled to recall the rest of the evening's events.
"She saved you, Lina," Gourry interjected.
"What?!" Lina's eyes were as big as saucers. "That can't be right." She shook her head obstinately and said, "No, you're wrong. She wouldn't do that. That's not who she is anymore."
Okay, now Lina really wasn't making any sense. "She's not?" he asked, "Well, who would she be if she's not your sis-"
Lina cut him off with a terse shake of her head. "I don't want to talk about it. Besides," she said suddenly distracted, "what is thath?" Her last word was a bit slurred as she all but drooled on herself. She was sniffing the air and had apparently caught wind of something pleasant.
Gourry caught the scent in that same moment. His stomach suddenly felt as if it were trying to devour itself. How long had it been since he'd had a decent meal? Yesterday? He could have sworn that he'd gone longer without eating, but he couldn't remember ever being this hungry.
The familiar odor of bacon and—could it be? Yes, his sharp nose informed him; it very well could. It was a delightful smell from his childhood: his mother's pancakes.
He laughed happily and seized his startled companion in an impromptu bear hug. Seeing as she was a good deal shorter than he, it pretty much entailed squeezing her head to his chest and cutting off her air. Thankfully, he was far too excited to maintain his hold on her for long and a few moments later, he was dragging her by the hand through the woods.
Dawn had snuck up on them while they were speaking and the woods looked far less sinister now. The rising sun cast a beautiful orange hue over everything, dispelling the last of the shadows. In the distance, birds could be heard singing as well as animals moving about in the brush. It was going to be a positively gorgeous day.
Gourry shaded his eyes briefly as they exited the woods. He'd been unprepared for the glare now that the sun was up and the trees were no longer providing any shade. When his eyes finally grew accustomed to the light, his smile grew even wider, if that was possible.
His home stood before them, but it was entirely different this morning. For one thing, a pair of worn and dusty traveling cloaks lay draped over the porch railing. One was so large that it could have easily been mistaken for a tarp to the untrained eye; that one was his father's. Thin wisps of gray smoke emanated from the chimney, a sure sign that mom was indeed making breakfast. As if he needed any more confirmation that his parents were indeed home, he heard a boisterous—yet very good-natured—laugh erupt from within the house. His dad was probably recounting the story of their buying trip. And Gourry was missing it.
"What in the hell has gotten into you?! Have you lost your mind?!"
Gourry turned to find Lina staring daggers at him. It was just then that he realized that he'd probably dragged her a mile or more at a dead sprint. It couldn't have been pleasant as sick as she was. "I'm sorry, Lina," he said contritely, taking both her hands in his own. He couldn't stop the smile from creeping back onto his face as he gleefully informed her, "They're home!"
Lina smiled in return. She couldn't help it. His dopey grin was infectious. "Who's home?"
"Mom and Dad!" he said with a laugh.
Her response was anything but what he'd expected. "Oh, God," she whispered, her face a mask of horror. She snatched her hands back from his and took a few steps back, until she was pressed against a tree. "Oh, Ceiphied." A profound change came over her in the next moment. She seemed to shrink, cowering before Gourry. It was a far cry from her usual posture: chin held high, shoulders squared, a confident look in her eye. She slowly sank down until she was sitting and clutched her knees to her chest. Her hands shook uncontrollably.
Gourry leapt to the obvious conclusion: she was feeling sick again. He knelt beside her and slipped an arm around her back and the other under her legs, meaning to carry her the rest of the way. He'd probably caused it when he made her run a few minutes ago; he mentally kicked himself for being so stupid. He needn't have bothered as she physically kicked him a moment later—in the side of the head, no less.
"That was pretty good for being sick," he muttered, wisely backing out of striking distance. She gave him a halfhearted smile before hiding her face behind her knees. She wasn't ill then. His face lit up as he came to the obvious conclusion. "What are you afraid of?"
"A-Afraid?" Lina stammered. "It's not like that . . ." She forced a grin and stood up, still shaking like a leaf. Making a show of stretching as if nothing was wrong, she said, "Gourry, let's hit the road. We've hung around here long enough."
"Huh?" He couldn't have heard her right. He thought that he'd just heard her suggest that they leave when he was this close to seeing his mom and dad again after five . . . ten . . . well, however many years he'd been gone. It was pretty confusing. "You want . . . to go?" he asked, sure that he'd misheard her.
She favored him with a heart-melting smile and nodded. "Uh huh." Her hands fluttered about like birds—first wringing together in front of her, then held at her sides, and finally hidden behind her back—betraying her discomfort.
Gourry raised an inquisitive eyebrow. A moment later, a sly grin played across his lips. "I think I know what this is about . . ." he said quietly.
"Y-You do?!" Lina yelped, somehow managing to look guilty and relieved at the same time. She sighed. "Well, if you know, then you know why we have to go, right?"
He snapped his fingers and pointed at the tattered rag she was wearing. "You're worried about the dress!" Putting a comforting arm around her shoulder, he said, "It's not a big deal, Lina. My mom's not an ogre, you know. She'll understand about the running around in the dark, fighting vampires, and almost drowning stuff." He began to lead her towards the door.
Marco awoke with a gasp and glanced around worriedly. He half expected to see . . . things looming over him. For one panicky moment, they were there—clear as day—but the light streaming through his bedroom window quickly dispelled the illusion; he was alone.
He heaved a great sigh of relief and threw back the covers as the nightmare faded into memory. He had a big day today and there was no time to be dwelling on bad dreams.
A rustle of cloth was followed by his bed shirt coming to rest on the headboard of his bed. Marco wasn't particularly neat at the best of times (much to his mother's chagrin) and when he had something on his mind, everything else tended to go out the window; just as his pants had just done, landing on his mother's beloved tulips.
Hastily tossing on his clothes, Marco darted out of his room, snagged a piece of toast off the kitchen table, said a hasty, "Bye, I love you," to his mom, and made a beeline for the door.
"Marco."
The boy froze in his tracks, one foot out the door. "Yes, mom?" he cautiously ventured, sensing the hint of suspicion in her voice.
"Where are you sneaking off to so early?"
"Just goin' to see Sarah," he replied, silently pleading to the gods that she didn't have a chore for him. He was driven by a sense of urgency to see Sarah—to know that his fears from the previous evening had been unfounded. If mom wanted him to pull weeds or something else, he was sure that his head would explode from the frustration. Mothers could be so unreasonable sometimes.
"Okay then," she replied after an agonizingly long moment, "be back before dinner."
Marco had already darted out the door before she'd even finished saying, "Okay." Being a mischief prone boy, he had an uncanny ability to read his mother and had been sure that she was going to tell him to do something. It'd been a pleasant surprise when she let him go.
Grinning broadly, he jumped over the neighbor's fence and headed off into the woods, thinking all the while that someone had to be looking out for him.
"Gourry, stop. This isn't about the dress," Lina said with an emphatic shake of her head. He continued to lead her on, giving her a puzzled smile. "Hold up a sec, Jellyfish!" she huffed, slipping out from under his arm. "We need to talk about something." He stopped and turned to face her. Finally. She wished that she could just pound some sense into him, but she had a sick feeling in her stomach that informed her that a good beating wouldn't be the best tactic to use this time.
Impulsively, she lunged forward and flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She smiled when she felt him hug her in return. That gave her the strength to go on. "G-Gourry, you know that I care about you, right?" she whispered almost inaudibly.
"Sure, Lina," Gourry replied cheerfully. He tilted her chin up, gave her a quick kiss, and smiled at her. "I love you too."
Gods, why does he have to smile at me like that? Lina shook her head in irritation. She couldn't shake the sense that she'd let Gourry down—she should have known sooner—should have been able to warn him about this; she was a Slayer, damn it! This was her job! Protecting the innocent from harm. And Gourry was definitely innocent and she didn't want to see him come to harm.
She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. Feeling guilty wouldn't help at all. Choosing her words carefully, she said, "Well . . . you know that I'd never do anything to hurt you, right? I mean, you deserve some of the beatings—most of them actually—but you know that I'd never really hurt you." She paused, nodded at the house, and said, "And, it's because of that, I don't think we should go in there. We just need to turn around and leave, because . . ."
"Because?" Gourry repeated, giving her a little nod of encouragement.
"Exactly," Lina replied, as if he'd just agreed with her. Taking his arm, she turned, meaning to lead him back into the forest. "If we hurry, I'm sure we can make it to the next village by midday. Hey!"
Gourry had just tried to sweep her up into his arms—had almost gotten her too—but her catlike reflexes saved her. Well . . . that and they were both exhausted, so it was more like him fumbling to grab her and her stumbling to avoid him.
Giving Gourry the most murderous of looks, Lina hissed through clenched teeth, "Don't. You. Dare." She bellowed, "What part of 'I don't want to go in there' don't you understand, Jellyfish?! I'm not going in that house!" Digging in with her heels, she stubbornly fended off another attack from her much larger companion.
"Lina, don't be like this," Gourry said with a sigh, as he moved to pick her up again.
"Be like what?!" she snarled in return. She struggled against him in an attempt to stay on the ground. "Let me go! I told you I'm not going!"
"You're going to embarrass us both!" he admonished. "Ow!" Lina had just landed a rather solid kick to his shin. He staggered backwards, tripped over his own feet, and fell, dragging his angry companion down with him.
"That hurt, Bait for Brains!"
"Sorry, I . . ."
"What are you doing?! I'm not in the mood for . . ."
"Lina, just calm down."
"Hands off!"
"Can't breathe . . ."
"Gourry?" a quiet voice interjected.
Lina and Gourry both froze in mid melee when they heard the voice. She straddled his chest with her hands wrapped around his throat; his were planted on her meager breasts in an attempt to shove her off.
Standing in the doorway of Gourry's home were three people wearing decidedly perplexed expressions on their faces: his grandmother and his parents.
Amelia almost bumped into Zelgadis when he stopped in front of her. She hadn't been looking where she was going, choosing to stare at her feet rather than his back. After making a few halfhearted attempts at conversation, which he had nipped in the bud, she'd fell into step behind him and set about working herself into a major bout of depression.
She wasn't prone to sadness—always tried to wear a smile, even when she wasn't feeling particularly cheerful. After all, no child wanted to see a frowning circus performer, right? She'd taken joy in the fact that she could bring happiness to so many people with her skills. It was something of a symbiotic relationship; as much as she'd pleased the crowds, she was even more delighted at their reactions.
What she was feeling now was the antithesis of that. She had upset Zelgadis, which in turn had upset her, which again upset him, and so on. She'd never experienced as many emotional highs and lows as she was now and, before she even realized what she was doing, she found herself hating the man in front of her for inflicting this upon her.
Zelgadis didn't say anything, but she was sure that he'd felt it. Hadn't his shoulders slumped ever so slightly? And weren't his wings drooping a bit more than they had been a moment ago? She thought so. "Mister Zelgadis, I . . ." She didn't know what she was going to say next. She did feel sorry for him, but on the other hand, he'd been pretty snippy with her. It wasn't like she was trying to annoy him after all.
She needn't have worried. Zelgadis turned and spoke to Jillas as if she weren't even there. "Jillas? Do you know where you're going?"
That was why they had stopped, Amelia realized. Jillas had apparently gotten a little mixed up, judging by the confused manner in which he was glancing around at their surroundings.
"Um . . ." Jillas scratched behind one of his ears thoughtfully and then fell silent for another few moments. An exasperated sigh of annoyance from his master finally got his attention. "Sorry, boss, 'm not ingnorin' ye. Jes' tryin' t' think . . ." he explained. "Now," he said, pointing at a seemingly random fir tree, "I seem t' rememba' seein' a lot a' trees . . . Somethin' wrong, boss?"
Amelia blushed and stuck her fingers in her ears when she heard Zelgadis's response. It didn't help much, given the fact that she still felt his frustration in her head. That and he was shouting pretty loud. Trying to find the bright side of hearing Jillas get his head bitten off—not literally, although that might have been kinder—she focused on the fact that she'd learned something new just now: one of the more colorful words Zelgadis had just used could apparently be used as both a noun and a verb. Interesting.
"What in the hell is the matter with you?!" Zelgadis ranted, gesticulating wildly. "You're an animal! Where are your survival instincts?! Tracking skills?! How in blazes do you feed yourself in the wild?!"
Jillas looked down at his feet shamefully. His ears drooped a bit and he wrung his hands as he listened to his master's diatribe.
"What now?" Zelgadis said with an irritated sigh.
"Well . . . ye called me 'n animal, boss," Jillas said with a quiet sniffle. "Kinda hurts m' feelin's a bit, ye know?"
"Why? You are an animal."
"Oh, I know, boss. But, ye were sayin' it like it's a bad thing."
"It is a bad thing! You're a wild animal that's totally helpless in the wild!" Zelgadis took a deep breath and said, "Look, do you know where we're going, or not?"
"Um . . . no," Jillas admitted with a sheepish grin.
Zelgadis took a deep breath and was about make an exceptionally scathing remark when Amelia decided that she'd had enough.
Before she knew what she was doing, Amelia had spun Zelgadis around and slapped the taste from his mouth. "Stop picking on him!" she yelled. "He's doing his best!" She'd had just about enough of this. She hated being unhappy and all she was receiving from her companion at the moment was a steady stream of self-pity and anger. She put her hands on her hips and scowled (looking very much like Zelgadis without the wings).
If Zelgadis was surprised by her actions, he hid it well. He scowled right back at her, arms folded across his chest. Somehow, he managed to hold his tongue. That didn't stop his feelings from rolling across their link though.
"I . . . I can't believe you just said that!" Amelia gasped, her mouth hanging open in shock.
"Oh, for the love of . . . I didn't say anything!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in exasperation.
Growling in a Zel-ish manner, Amelia took a step forward until she was nose to nose with him. She poked him in the chest and said, "Hey, who are you calling an annoying little fly?! How would you like it if I called you names? I can think of a few, you . . . you big jerk!"
Zelgadis blinked in surprise, apparently a little taken aback at the ferocity of her assault. "Jerk?" he muttered quizzically. It seemed that Amelia's insult had hit him in a way that physically striking him could not.
Seeing the hurt flicker in his stormy eyes and simultaneously feeling it in herself gave Amelia a flash of inspiration; no one had ever really liked Zelgadis before. He'd had his share of companions, of course. A man of his station couldn't do his work alone. Still, he'd never really had a friend. And now that he was changing, he was feeling even more isolated. He thought he was alone against the world.
She gave him a sad smile. He could be right with the way she was acting. There was a good and loving man tucked away behind all the guilt and anger, she was sure of it. She'd seen him. He'd saved her in Hellmaster's lair, saved poor Jillas from drowning, and had treated her with the utmost kindness at the dance. He'd even maimed himself out of worry for her, she remembered, stealing a glance at his bandaged hand.
He'd done all that and here she was abusing him. Well, that certainly wouldn't help him come out of his self-imposed isolation.
"Mister Zelgadis, I didn't mean to hurt you. But, this isn't easy for me either. And picking on Mister Jillas isn't going to help anything."
Zelgadis stared at her for a long moment before dropping his gaze to the ground. He coughed embarrassedly and muttered, "I know it's rough, Amelia and . . ." he paused for a moment, looking as if it physically pained him to continue, ". . . you're right. It isn't your fault that we're in this situation." He turned his back on her and scanned the trees, as if the some answer regarding their whereabouts could be found there.
Amelia blinked in surprise. That was it? That was supposed to be an apology? She hadn't expected torrents of tears and implorations for her forgiveness, but . . . She shook her head irritably, trying to free herself from the sense of guilt she was receiving from her companion.
This was Mister Zelgadis she was thinking about. The fact that he'd even offered that much of an apology was a step in the right direction. It had to have been hard for him. She smiled, feeling hope well up within her. He was trying! She steeled her resolve to help him and began to brew something in her mind: a present for Zelgadis, to help him feel better about himself and the world in general.
Zelgadis' wings trembled as if he'd suddenly felt a chill. He glanced over his shoulder at Amelia and cautiously asked, "Amelia . . .? What are you doing?" Zelgadis took a step back—shivered again at the warm smile she was suddenly favoring him with.
Amelia didn't answer; she was too busy gathering every bit of sunshine and joy she could into her mind. She bundled that all up in a big, "Life is wonderful!" and silently fired it over to him. As an afterthought, she threw in a few images of puppies and daisies. Every little bit helped, right?
Raw positive emotion—grand and terrifying—slammed into Zelgadis with the force of a cannonball. His eyes bugged out and he uttered a strangled little cry of joyful agony. His hands flew to the sides of his skull. Wings that had been draped about his body a moment before lashed out instinctively, sensing that their master was being attacked.
Jillas and Amelia flung themselves to the ground to avoid the leathery appendages. They exchanged looks of relief; it probably wouldn't have hurt to be struck—the wings were thin skin stretched over hollow bone, after all—but neither of them relished the idea of ending up at the top of a tree somewhere. Zelgadis's wings were far stronger than they looked.
Zelgadis wasn't quite done though. He twirled about, tripped over his feet, fell through a nearby bush, and disappeared. The last that was seen of him was a quick flash of a wingtip amidst a cloud of leaves. Then, he was gone.
Amelia climbed to her feet, looking quite bewildered. That wasn't really the reaction she'd expected, but at least Mister Zelgadis wasn't sulking anymore, right? Although, it was strange that he'd just disappeared like that. The foliage had only been about knee high so he should have still been visible, so how . . .?
Holding one another's hands, she and Jillas cautiously advanced on the mysterious shrub. A moment later, they both sighed in relief. That was one mystery solved.
Amelia found herself looking down a steep embankment. It was comforting to know that Zelgadis hadn't been eaten by carnivorous vegetation, but . . . She winced in sympathy as she heard a particularly loud crash; judging by the noise, he'd somehow managed to hit every single tree, rock, and bush on his way down. And based on the bellowed curses—both verbal and mental—he'd survived the trip too. Well, that was encouraging!
"That's right!" Jillas gleefully exclaimed with a snap of his fingers. "Gourry an' I, we did that when w' found 'er this mornin'. Isn't th' boss a genius?" An eager glint in his eye he darted over to the edge of the grade and called out, "Wait f' me, boss! I'm comin'!" before flinging himself down the hill as well.
Amelia winced again—this time when Jillas landed on his head after his first roll—but he seemed to be all right, excited even. She shrugged and stepped over to the beginning of the slope. "Well, when in Elmekia, do as the Elmekians do," she said with a grin. With that, she leapt after her companions.
Lina eyed the group of spectators nervously, even as she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. To say that it was an awkward situation was an understatement. She giggled hysterically and removed her hands from Gourry's throat. "Hi there!" she said with a timid little wave. Oh Ceiphied, they were still staring. Why were they staring?
"Eep!" she squeaked when she realized where Gourry's hands were resting. She slapped his wrist to get his attention and shot him a positively scathing look, silently indicating that he was to remove his hands from her immediately, or she'd remove them from his wrists. Thankfully, he seemed to get the hint.
The woman, who she could only assume was Gourry's mother judging from the long blond hair and piercing blue eyes, was giving her an inquisitive and slightly cool look. It was the dress, she hastily concluded. The iciness had to be because of the dress. The older woman probably didn't actually dislike her . . . At least, she hoped not.
"This wasn't . . . well, it's not . . . I mean, we aren't . . . well . . . ooh . . ." she explained. She nodded slowly as if she'd just given a very well thought out and satisfactory explanation of why she was straddling Gourry's chest while he groped her . . . in broad daylight. It was perfectly innocent, after all, and if she knew that, then it stood to reason that they knew that as well, right? Even if she had suddenly developed a severe speaking disability while explaining it.
Explanations for her behavior seemed far less important in the face of the, well, thing striding towards her. Before she could catch herself, she blurted out, "Gourry, you didn't tell me that you had a pet bear . . ."
The newly dubbed "bear" loomed over Lina—standing at least six and a half feet tall—studying her face. A moment later, it bared its teeth and she was positive that it was going to lean down and bite her head from her body. Her mind raced; how does one deal with a bear that means to remove one's head? Maybe if it was a vampire bear she could do something, but as it stood, her mind was totally blank.
It was only when the bear began to laugh raucously, that she realized two things: it had actually been smiling at her and "it" was probably human. Neither of those revelations brought her much comfort.
The giant called over his shoulder, "Lily, did you hear that?! A bear! That's the funniest thing I've heard all morning!" Still chuckling he turned his attention back to Lina who honestly looked as if she'd never been more terrified in her life. "Here we go!" he rumbled cheerfully, putting his huge hands around her waist—she could have sworn that his fingertips actually touched behind her back—and effortlessly lifted her from atop Gourry. "Up ya go, little lady! The name's Goren. Pleased ta meet ya."
While she was in the air, Lina found herself eye to eye with him and was relieved that she could detect no malice within them; his eyes sparkled with mirth and kindness—very much like Gourry's. She prided herself on being an excellent judge of character and this man was as goodhearted as they came.
Noting the grin on Lina's face, Goren nodded in encouragement. "That's right," he rumbled, "I ain't gonna eat ya. Wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone a pretty young gal like yourself." He set her down on her feet with infinite gentleness and reached back down to snag one of Gourry's hands. A moment later, the swordsman had been yanked to his feet as if he were weightless.
Lina watched with interest as father and son sized one another up. Seeing them standing next to one another, she realized that Goren wasn't quite as big as he'd first appeared. He was tall, but only slightly taller than his son. Most of his imposing nature came from his broad shoulders, but even they looked less intimidating when compared to Gourry. She found herself liking him far more now that she wasn't terrified of him.
Fetching a deep sigh, Lina shook her head. She didn't want to get attached to these people. More importantly, she didn't want Gourry to have to go through this. But now that they were here, she had to admit that she was curious. What kind of parents could have been responsible for raising a son like Gourry?
Gourry nodded at his father, a wide smile on his face. "Hi, Dad."
"Hi, Gourry."
"So, pancakes, huh?"
"Yes, my boy. Pancakes." Goren said this last part with a reverence usually reserved for speaking of one's deity. He slung an arm around Gourry's shoulders, staggering the shorter man and began to lead him towards the house. "You know what your mom's started doing? Crushed walnuts. Can ya believe it? The woman's a genius, I tell ya! Cooks 'em right into the batter! Never tasted better . . ."
Lina stared after them, her mouth agape. Yeah, this guy was definitely Gourry's dad. "I can't believe it. It's like seeing twin jellyfish," she said with a shake of her head. "Hey," she called, "is that it?!"
Gourry and Goren stopped in their tracks and turned back to face the much smaller redhead. "Is what it?"
Shrugging, Lina said, "Well, I don't know. You don't see each other for ten years and the first thing you can think to talk about is food? I was expecting tears of joy, hugs, and all that mushy stuff."
Gourry shot Lina a confused look. "What's wrong? Do you feel sick again?"
"No . . . and where did that come from?"
"Well, you said we should be crying, right?" he said in a serious tone. "I wouldn't cry unless something happened to you."
Lina felt her face go red and she opened and closed her mouth several times, looking like an extremely embarrassed fish.
Thankfully, Goren broke the tension. "Gourry, my boy, she just doesn't know how good your mom's pancakes can be." He clapped his son on the back affectionately and turned back towards the house.
"Goren Albus Gabriev, where are your manners?!" Lily stormed down from the porch and swatted the huge man on the arm, causing him to cower. "You're not even going to invite the poor girl in?"
"I was gonna get around to it, dear," Goren said with an apologetic grin.
"When?" Lily asked, tapping her foot irately.
"Sometime between the first and second stack of pancakes?" Goren ventured, somehow managing to look even more sheepish than before.
"Honestly! I've half a mind not to feed you at all!"
Her attention turned to Gourry and her personality completely reversed. "Hello, dear! I've missed you so much!" Lina was pleased to note a hint of redness in Gourry's face as his mother fussed over him, pinching his cheek, turning a critical eye on his "shaggy appearance", and doing general humiliating motherly things.
"Mom, please," Gourry muttered embarrassedly, shooting Lina a dirty look. She had a hand clapped over her mouth to suppress her giggles.
"Mom, please,' what? I'm your mother. I'm allowed to embarrass you. It's part of the job description. Oh, just look at you! You've sprouted like a weed!" she exclaimed. She embraced him with such enthusiasm that Lina thought that she'd seen a look of discomfort on his face. "You're almost as tall as your father!"
At the mention of Goren, her expression hardened and she glared at her luckless husband. "Are you still standing there? You and Gourry go get cleaned up." A moment later, she was all smiles again, turning her attention back to Lina. "Come along, dear. You look like you've had a rough night. I'm Lily, by the way," she said. Shooting a disapproving look at her husband's retreating back, she added, "And that thoughtless man is Goren. Don't think too harshly of him though. His heart's in the right place." She took Lina's arm and guided her towards the house. "What's your name?"
"Lina," she replied automatically. Her mind was overwhelmed with thoughts at the moment and it was a wonder that she'd even been able to recall her own name. Lily was taking her into the house and she most certainly did not want to go in there. Going in and getting acquainted with these people . . . liking these people . . . well, it just wasn't a good idea, at all. And she knew that she would. Goren, despite the fact that he'd been pretty intimidating at first glance, was a pretty nice guy, if a bit absentminded—just like Gourry. As for Lily, she had a 'no nonsense' sort of demeanor that Lina could really appreciate. She hated this.
But, on the other hand, there was the intoxicating smell of food wafting from the doorway, beckoning her onwards. Her stomach spoke up loudly in approval of this train of thought, and she grinned embarrassedly. Thankfully, if Lily heard, she made a point of not acknowledging it. She grimaced as her stomach knotted up; there'd been no food for so long and she'd lost what she'd eaten yesterday. Idiot, she chided herself, you know there's no point in eating.
She was startled out of her thoughts by Lily's voice.
"Not to upset you or anything, Lina, but wouldn't happen to be my good blue dress, would it . . .?"
Lina just stared at her, looking about as relaxed as a rabbit in a snare.
Amelia laughed as she caught a particularly good bounce on her roll down the hill. She hadn't done anything like this since she was a little girl. It was a little dizzying, but she wasn't particularly worried; trees were few and far between and she was able to steer herself well enough to avoid any major obstacles during her descent. She was an acrobat after all.
Her grin froze and then turned into a look of concern. "Oh dear," she managed to get out over the course of some pretty decent airtime; there was a drop off coming and a sharp looking one at that. She dug in with her fingers when she hit again, even though she knew it was no use. She was going too fast and the slope was growing steeper by the second. As she'd expected, she came away with a handful of compost and nothing more.
Then she was falling, and it wasn't so much fun anymore. Her arms pinwheeled as she fell and she prepared for what looked to be a rather painful landing. Instinctively, she angled her body in preparation to roll on impact. Maybe she would get lucky and walk away with a sprain.
She needn't have worried. It didn't even hurt when she hit. The ground was surprisingly soft—almost fleshy even—and actually gave beneath her. She didn't even have to roll, instead landing flat on her back with a giggle. "That really was a lot of fun," she said cheerfully. Glancing up at the place she'd fallen from a moment ago, she grimaced. It was a dozen feet up if it was an inch and she really was lucky that she hadn't hurt herself.
It was fortunate that she'd landed on this soft patch of ground . . . that was moving . . . not to mention groaning . . . oh dear.
"Poor Mister Zelgadis," she whimpered, quickly moving to get off the fallen vampire. She got clear just in time.
There was an explosion of leaves as Zelgadis's wings came to life, as if just remembering that they were still functioning. An instant later, he surged to his feet, an insane grin stretched across his face.
The smile looked so strange on his face that Amelia involuntarily cringed. Zelgadis looked nothing like his normal self.
"The daisies!" Zelgadis bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Don't eat the daisies!"
Well, how was Amelia supposed to react to that? She didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about, or even who he was talking to. His eyes were darting about, seemingly unable to focus on any one point for more than a second. Finally, not having the foggiest idea of what else to do, she smiled weakly and whispered, "I won't . . . I won't eat the daisies."
He clawed at his face, digging deep furrows in his cheeks that immediately healed before they even had a chance to bleed. He cocked his head thoughtfully for a moment before getting a furious look on his face. "Don't you dare! Don't you-now, what did I just say?! I told you not to kick that dog!!" He smiled at Amelia, as if just noticing that she was there. "Sorry, I'll be right with you. He's just upset. You know, about the puppies and flowers and-" The anger returned to his face without warning and he snarled, "Would you shut up?! I am not going to 'kill it'! That's Amelia, damn it! You take that back! She is not the most frightening thing you've ever seen!"
Amelia was utterly dumbfounded. She sat atop a pile of leaves, staring at Zelgadis as he ranted and raved. He'd gone mad. There was no other explanation for it. But how . . .? The solution hit her like a punch in the stomach. It was glaringly obvious: she'd pushed him too hard, too fast. "Oh no!" she wailed, tears spilling down her cheeks, "I broke his brain!"
Zelgadis shook his head furiously and staggered over to the wall of the ravine. He reared back and thrust his head forward. The impact with the clay made a loud splat noise. He drew his head back again and muttered, "Just gotta get straight . . ." before thrusting his head forward again. He repeated this several times before staggering back and falling on his butt. "That's better," he sighed in relief, seemingly in control of himself again.
"Are you alright, Mister Zelgadis?" Amelia asked, hurrying to his side. She knelt beside him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders.
Shuddering in revulsion, Zelgadis quickly shook his head. "Amelia," he said breathlessly, "would you do me a huge favor?"
"Of course," she immediately responded.
Zelgadis nodded and sighed in relief. "Don't you ever try to help me like that again."
"Oh. Sure. Easy does it, right?" Amelia was a bit perplexed. He'd sounded angry when he spoken, but the impression that she received was an almost palpable sense of fear. She tried to lock eyes with him and raised a questioning eyebrow.
Her companion wasn't having any of it though. "The girl," Zelgadis said with an air of impatience, "She's around here somewhere, right?" He pointedly turned his back on Amelia, and went one step further, raising his wings to hide his face from her view.
Amelia tried to hide the hurt that Zelgadis had just caused her. It was frustrating. Even knowing what he was feeling, it wasn't always possible to put a reason with the emotion. She looked around hopelessly, trying to find the source of Zelgadis's fear. As expected, there was nothing. He was afraid of her then. But, why?
"Did you notice this?"
"What's that?" Amelia asked.
Zelgadis was holding some dry leaves. He dropped them and watched as they fell back to earth. "Autumn," he said in way of explanation. He gestured at their surroundings. "It's all dying."
Amelia pondered his words. She didn't understand at first, but when it came to her, it was embarrassingly obvious. "It was summer a few minutes ago!" she exclaimed. A moment later, confusion replaced enthusiasm. "Um, why was it summer?"
"That's the question, isn't it? And it wasn't summer a few minutes ago," Zelgadis corrected, "It was summer about half a mile ago. Lina and I noticed the same thing yesterday morning." He nodded in the direction they'd come from. "Can you hear that?"
Rubbing her bare arms (it'd suddenly become quite chilly), Amelia listened, hearing the cheerful sound of chirping in the distance. "Birds?"
"They should be on their way south by now, don't you think?"
"I guess . . ." Before Amelia had a chance to ponder things further, she was distracted by an excited yip from Jillas.
"Boss! Miss Amelia!" The werefox was so deeply buried in a pile of leaves that all Amelia could see of him was his bushy orange tail swishing about excitedly. "I foun' 'er!"
Amelia and Zelgadis hurried over—well, picked their way through was more like it; there were rocks, stumps and holes concealed beneath the decaying foliage and a misstep could have resulted in a sprained ankle or worse. The forest had teeth.
"She's been dead for a long time," Zelgadis observed. "I wonder why no one ever came looking for her?"
Sniffing sadly, Amelia said, "She probably got lost, the poor dear. Do you think this is Sarah?"
Zelgadis frowned thoughtfully, lost in Amelia's thoughts. "It could be," he said after a moment. "She looks like she is, or was, about the right age that Marco described, right?"
Amelia nodded. "Even if she isn't, we should still take her back," she said. "It'd be wrong to leave her out here. She's someone's little girl, right?" Feeling an intense wave of sadness, she added, "And I know they must have looked for her, Mister Zelgadis. They wouldn't have just left her out here. We should take her back and give her a proper burial. It's the least we can do, right?"
Sighing in annoyance, Zelgadis opened his mouth to venture that nobody had gone looking for her. The girl could have been raped and murdered for all they knew, or even abandoned by her own parents. There were some truly vile individuals in the world. Sense intruded at the last moment; Amelia didn't need to hear that right now.
"Thanks," Amelia quietly said when she felt Zelgadis slip an arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him and he stiffened briefly—she half expected him to push her away. In the end, he relaxed a bit and allowed her to close the distance between them.
They stayed that was for a few moments—Amelia trying to stave off the feelings of sadness at the poor child's sad end, Zelgadis awkwardly trying to comfort her—before he finally released her and stepped away.
"Well," Zelgadis muttered, looking around thoughtfully, "if we're going to take her back, we're going to need . . ." He nodded at Jillas and extended his hand. "Give me your cloak, will you?"
Jillas hesitated for a moment, possibly because he wasn't too keen on the idea of carrying a dead girl in his good cloak; well his only one, to be quite honest. A stern look from the boss made him think twice about complaining and he quickly relented.
"Okay, then. Here we go . . ." Zelgadis reached out and brushed some dirt away from Sarah's skull.
Lina sat in the Gabrievs' bedroom, watching as Lily hustled about the room, sorting through an intimidating stack of blouses and skirts. For the life of her, Lina couldn't imagine what anyone would need with so many outfits. She'd gotten along just fine with one. Sure, it had stunk of sweat and blood—not to mention the fact that it was usually caked with grime—but she hadn't been trying to win a fashion show or anything. Vampires didn't care what she wore; they'd shred it either way, so why bother dressing up?
"Here we go," Lily finally said, producing an outfit from the recesses of the closet. Thankfully, it wasn't blue, which was a little surprising. The entire Gabriev family seemed to favor blue—sky blue for Lily, a blue so dark it bordered on black for Goren, and something in between for Gourry.
Chewing her lip thoughtfully, Lina found herself wondering if Gourry chose his clothes for their colors. She decided that he probably hadn't; he seemed to be more concerned with practicality than aesthetics. That, and he probably didn't know what the word meant anyway.
So, she was pleasantly surprised when Lily laid a simple rose-colored sundress in her lap. "Hey!" she exclaimed happily, picking it up and looking it over. It was short (but not immodestly short, she was pleased to note), which meant that there wouldn't be any excess material that might get snagged in, oh say, a bloody fight to the death with a werewolf. On top of that, it was pleasing to the eye and she found herself nodding in approval. She'd look good in this.
Beaming with satisfaction, she looked up at Lily and said, "Thanks! I really appreciate . . . " The words died on her lips and she gasped in shock. "Oh, Ceiphied . . ."
Lily had a bemused smile on her face; this probably had something to do with the fact that the redhead's jaw was practically in her lap. A patch of red blossomed over her left breast, soaking through the sky blue fabric of her dress. "Is something wrong, Lina?" she asked, just before a large bloody gash split her face from forehead to chin.
Lina was sickened to note that Lily was still smiling, apparently oblivious to the fact that her face had been effectively bisected. Her lips were split down the middle and without any support, the bottom one drooped, exposing bloody gums and small fragments of teeth. What had been meant to be a reassuring look became something grotesque.
She'd never expected this. Well, she'd expected it of course, but not quite like this and certainly not while she and Gourry were here having breakfast. How had this come about . . .?
Amelia, she suddenly realized—or if Amelia was dead, Zelgadis. Either way, she was sure that one of them had figured things out and had done something to upset the delicate illusion that was being maintained here.
"Lina, are you quite alright?" Lily asked again, sounding a bit more concerned this time. Amazingly, her voice wasn't affected at all by her lips being mangled. She knelt down in front of Lina, and put a reassuring hand on her knee. "Lina?" she whispered, giving the younger girl's knee a quick squeeze. "Lina, why won't you say anything?"
It wasn't for a lack of trying; that much was certain. Lina opened her mouth to scream that everything was definitely not all right and that things were actually pretty bad, now that she thought about it. She was face to face with a dead woman. If she'd been so inclined, she could have leaned forward to kiss her. Or not. How in the hell was she supposed to kiss her?! Lily had no functioning lips anymore. For that matter, why in Ceiphied's name was she thinking about kissing her to begin with?!
"I . . . I . . . I . . ." she managed to stammer, before she heard a loud crash followed by a cry of anguish—Gourry from the sound of things—from the kitchen.
Thankfully, Lily turned her attention from Lina. "Honestly, those boys . . . They've probably made a mess of the kitchen," she said with a cluck of the tongue. Turning back to Lina, she added, "I'll be back in a minute. Are you going to be okay by yourself?"
Through phenomenal effort, Lina managed to move her head up, down, and back to center in what must have been the slowest nod in history. Just go away, she silently pleaded. Go clean up your damn kitchen, scold the guys, hell, smack your husband around, just get the hell away from me. Somehow, she managed to muster the will to speak. "I-I'm fine," she stammered, actually managing an apologetic smile. "I j-just thought . . . I saw s-something."
What's that?" Lily asked, glancing around the room. A bit of flesh that had been dangling by a thread—part of her chin by the looks of it—came free of her face and dropped onto Lina's bare knee with a quiet 'splat'. It lay there like a . . .
"Slug!" Lina yelped. "I mean, I thought I saw a slug," she reiterated a little more calmly. "I hate slugs—I mean who wouldn't? They're disgusting—slugs, I mean—so slimy and disgusting—but, I already said they were disgusting, right? It's pretty silly of me to repeat myself like that!" She laughed far too forcefully for it to sound genuine and got a strange look for her efforts. She couldn't really be sure what expression Lily had been going for; her face was going limp—the flesh looking almost doughy—as it began to peel back from her skull.
"Well . . . I'll bring you some salt, when I come back, okay?" With that, Lily hastened out of the room, most likely under the impression that Lina was quite mad.
That suited the Slayer just fine. She let out a shaky gasp when she realized that she'd been holding her breath for the last minute. She shook uncontrollably, as if she were in the grip of a particularly nasty fever. Uttering a strangled little cry of disgust, she swept her hand across her leg, flinging the bit of Lily into the corner of the room.
"Not real," she whispered as she stared at the small streak of gore that tracked across her thigh. "This isn't real."
She was arguing a losing case though. In her mind, she knew that what she was seeing was false, but her senses told her another story. She felt the wetness on her knee—on her fingers as well. She saw the blood. She could hear the commotion in the kitchen, telling her that Gourry was going through the same thing.
"Gourry," she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth in horror. If it was this bad for her, how would it affect her protector?
Next Chapter: Idyllic life in the village has begun to unravel as secrets hidden for years finally come to light. But, such revelations may be too much for one man to handle . . .
Notes:
Hello, all! This one was for all you Z/A lovers. Well, not quite, but things are certainly changing between them, so who can say what will come of it?
In any case, I hope that the next chapter comes more quickly than this one. I feel terrible going a month between chapters, but I've got a good excuse, honest! And it's . . . Gasp! There's someone standing behind you!
Special thanks go out to everyone who helped me on this chapter. Ichiban, for being a level headed and logical beta reader who called me a 'bum' when I forgot one of her corrections, Kaitrin, for all her comments and for not letting me get away with making Amelia a wimp, and Sami, for giving this a final once over before posting. Thanks, Kiddo!
Reviewer Response:
Ichiban, it still hasn't been wrapped up as quickly as I'd like, but we're getting there.
Good guesses, Samantha. Luna doesn't have multiple personalities, but she did go through extremes, didn't she?
Ari-Chan, you'll see a lot more of Grou in the upcoming chapters . . .
Pregnant, Miss Gabriev? That's an interesting guess, but isn't it a bit early for Lina to be showing signs of being preggers?
Gourry's itchy, but he'll live, Stara.
Thank you, Kaitrin and Gaugaurmthou, for your kind words!
Otaku Girl, yes, we will be seeing Val somewhere down the line.
Hey, don't worry about it, Rigel. I've been called a lot of stuff and 'sweetie' is actually quite kind!
Thanks for reading!