Chapter 3

The stare was the worst. Serena had heard of eyes being described as 'icy' before, but she'd never encountered ones that truly warranted the description. Kate's were. The expression in those crystal orbs almost gave frostbite. It was impossible to meet, and after a few eye-watering attempts she gave up and began to feign intense interest in her shoes. They were a little scuffed now, but still recognizable as the diamante-scattered, one-off exclusives that-

Her train of thought was cut off abruptly as pain flared in her jaw. She gave a small yelp; reality crashing back as her head was wrenched up at an abrupt angle by the hand suddenly clamped under her chin, nails digging sharply into the flesh. Kate's eyes narrowed.

"You will not waste my time mentally assessing your footwear."

Serena would have loved to pull away, but there was strength in that grip, and she got the distinct impression any resistance would dislocate her jaw. All she could manage was a slight tilt in way of a nod.

Richard was right. Kate was easily as scary as he was.

"Flawless pickup Richard," Kate released her grip abruptly and stepped back, "Now let's see if it was worth it. You, Serena, follow me." She span round and strode towards the back of the room. A final push from Richard sent Serena stumbling up the steps. She regained her balance and twisted round in time to see the darkly robed figure vanish back into the room's busy chaos. Her stomach lurched strangely. Getting away from him had been her main focus ever since he'd dragged her off the station, but now… Her gaze flicked back towards the tall woman she was supposed to be following, and she couldn't suppress a fresh shiver. This 'Kate' was different, and seemed to extrude an entirely new sense of threat.

She threw a last glance around the room, but it offered no more sanctuary than before. There was no other choice. She scurried after Kate, drawing close just as the woman reached what looked like an ornate wrought-iron elevator set into the back wall. The doors swung open as she approached and she stepped smoothly inside. Serena hesitated, before reluctantly sliding into the lift, which immediately started to descend. She pressed herself into the wall, trying to keep as much space between herself and the pale-robed figure as possible; although Kate gave no impression she was even aware of the girl's presence and continued to stare forward with a haughty, if rather bored, expression. The journey wasn't long, maybe few floors, but there didn't seem to be any actual indicator of distance in the compartment.

Kate still didn't say anything, even as the motion stopped and the doors swung open. She swept out and Serena followed. It was all she could do not to start shaking uncontrollably. When…when I get out of this I'll have earned a place in Gryffindor, surely…

She physically jumped as the lift shuddered behind her and started rising again. The sound echoed through the brick-vaulted chamber she could see around herself in the gloom. A dull clang reverberated down the shaft and suddenly the room was bathed in light as torches flared into life along the walls. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, and even when she could see she was reluctant to. She didn't know what kind of lair she'd been brought too…

When she summoned the nerve to actually look around, she was almost disappointed. The room was vaulted and lit by flaming torches, but it was also very obviously an old wine cellar. One wall still held the remains of an extensive wooden rack. There was a large, heavy oak table pushed up against the rack, and Kate was heading directly for it.

Serena hesitated. A second examination of her surroundings sent a few hairs prickling up on her neck. It was just a wine cellar, but it was also very sealed. Some of the walls, while certainly intact, bore misshapen areas as if from heavy impact, and several had scorch marks. There were also thick lengths of rope hanging from the ceiling at intervals, mirrored with other coils on the ground, which were wrapped tightly around heavy iron rings.

"Are you planning to stand there gawking?"

Serena jumped again as Kate spoke, and her attention switched back to the pale woman. She was standing in front of the table, holding up a large pair of dragonhide gloves, and one sculpted eyebrow was raised disapprovingly in Serena's direction.

"I…"

"Over there," Kate gestured towards the set of ropes in the centre of the room as she rammed one hand into its glove. Very slowly, Serena inched towards the rope, eyeing it as if she expected it to leap up and bite her. It did, however, only appear to be rope. While this was in one way a relief, it also reopened the yawning question of what the ropes were for. She didn't like any of the suggestions her mind put forward and quickly looked away, trying to focus her attention elsewhere. Her gaze landed on something hanging at an angle from the wall just above the table, and it was a few seconds before she could identify it. When she did, her eyes widened. It was a large, polished wooden plaque like for a hunting trophy, but rather than antlers or a glassy-eyed stuffed deer, attached to this plaque were…wings. Huge, man-sized wings, covered in iridescent bluish, pink tinted feathers. They were beautiful, although the artistic value was slightly diminished by the large black burn across the length of one, and the fact the inner side of both ended in a bloody stump.

"Wh…what are the wings for?" The words slipped out before Serena could stop them. Kate glanced up, and a light smirk crept onto her lips before she turned back to her preparations.

"A little trophy. Well then," she straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeve with a gloved hand, "Let's get started, shall we?"

Serena was about to try another question, when she suddenly felt her insides clench with a sudden upsurge of terror. Her stare was fixed on the glinting silvery object clasped in Kate's glove. The three vicious prongs caught the light oddly as the tall woman brought it round, pointing it in Serena's direction.

"No! Keep that away from me!" Serena shrieked and made to run but Kate was faster, and waved towards the ropes.

"Obstringo."

Life rippled through the cords, which leapt up serpent-like, lashing around Serena's limbs before she had a chance to get away. She let out another yell as the restraints tightened, hoisting her spread-eagled into the air, and tried to thrash against them but they were too strong. Terror like nothing she'd ever known flooded through her, smashing down every mental barrier, swirling around her skull in a boiling tornado of fear. Her body contorted, futilely wrenching at the bonds with such vigor she felt her skin split, tearing against the harsh rope. Dimly, some tiny part of her mind was puzzled at the response from the rest of it. Sure, the things hurt, but-

-no! No th3y c0uld n0t d0 thi5!!1! I…I 4m t3h…I c4n't l3t…N0!1!!-

…

…that…was not me…

…

When the spork hit, she was almost grateful.

---

Richard heard the familiar sound of the Cellar lift descending behind him, but he paid it little attention. There was no point dwelling on possibilities – either the kid came back, or she didn't. Full sporking was seldom a pleasant affair for anyone concerned, but at least when he did it, he didn't have to worry about leaving the target alive. If a Sue was bad enough to warrant taking out in Field, finesse wasn't the issue.

His train of thought was cut very effectively as a pair of arms suddenly fastened themselves around his shoulders from behind, and he suddenly gained several stone of hanger-on.

"Off to the break room?" Jackie resisted his attempts to shake her off with practised ease. Richard came to a halt and twisted until he could at least see the red-haired attacker.

"No."

"C'mon," she tightened her grip slightly, "Buy you a coffee."

"Don't drink it."

"Chocolate then. I'll have coffee, it'll be a nice side for the cigarette I'm dying for." She began to half-push, half-steer him towards the door, and Richard gave a low growl of annoyance. He did not like being grabbed infront of the whole of Scanns – friendship leeway only went so far.

He gave a slight nod, so small as to be unnoticeable by anyone not attached to his back. Apparently satisfied with his acceptance, Jackie let go and moved round to walk next to him. Neither of them spoke as they made their way through the winding corridors of the Terrace to the area long-nicknamed the 'break room'. It was a bit of a misleading description, more implying a small waiting area than the cluster of fused rooms that made up the space. The floor was not level all the way round, the odd wall still jutted into the main room and, like the rest of the building, any bit of open space wider than a few inches had either a chair, a sofa, a laden bookcase or a coffee table in it. They threaded their way through and headed for the far wall, which was mostly taken up with a massive, multi-tapped copper tea urn, flanked by teetering piles of mugs that were stacked so haphazardly it was clear there was more than just balance holding them up.

Richard got there first and pulled a mug out of the centre of one stack. The gap held for a moment and then, with a low scrape of pottery, a different cup slid into place by itself and completed the stack again. He ignored it, shoved his mug under the nearest brass tap and glared at it.

"Chocolate."

"With sugar and cinnamon," Jackie chimed in as she selected her own mug and flashed him a bright grin, "Hey, you could do with sweetening up."

"Is this particular mood supposed to be annoying me?" Richard growled, but he didn't really mean the harshness. Jackie's cheerful demeanour was a welcome constant, if truth were told. Not that he was very likely to admit it, but he acknowledged the thought to himself at least. He stepped aside so the redhead could push her mug under a different tap.

"Coffee, black as a raven's wing."

"Vocalising that description alone should entail a spork to the ribs."

"I'm kidding." Jackie rolled her eyes, "Sheesh, are you never off duty?"

Richard's arm, was forcibly grabbed again, but this time – since there was no one else in the room – he allowed himself to be dragged towards a sagging green sofa and sat down. Once seated, Jackie immediately plunged headlong into one of her usual verbal-flash floods and Richard settled back, letting the chatter wash over him as he sipped his drink. The combination of home territory, familiar banter and the sugar kick was enough to lower some of his shields and he gave a small sigh as he glanced round the room. When was the last time he'd been in here? A month at least. It had been that long since he'd been back at the Terrace for anything longer than a drop-off and quick meal. He could do less, there were more in Field now, and those like Luce and Darek were getting pretty good, but… No. He'd handle it. He always did.

Still, it was nice to be able to relax, for…what?. For the first time since all these Serenas started emerging, actually. He felt his face clouding at the thought and straightened up a little, placing his now empty mug down onto the table a little harder than was necessary. Jackie, who had taken a short break from talking to light the thin white cylinder hanging from her lips, raised an eyebrow.

"You're tetchy today, even for you."

"Will you not blow that crap in my face?" Richard growled and waved a hand at the cigarette, "Coerceo." The smoke writhed, twisting round and back on itself until it formed a small off-white globe hovering a few inches above the glowing tip. Jackie regarded it with interest and grinned as smoke blown in the other direction immediately arced back towards it.

"That's a new one."

"If you'd buy smokeless ones-" he muttered, but was cut off by a sigh from his companion.

"Look, if there's one thing Muggles do well, it's their narcotics," Jackie rolled her eyes again, "And since someone decided to restrict Diagon visits to those lacking, and I quote 'less than natural adornments', I'm a bit limited in supply. They're also a damn sight more expensive than a pack of Embassy, now stop changing the subject and tell me why you're glowering at everything down to the air molecules."

Richard threw another scowl at her, but both knew it was show and habit rather than anything else. There were a select few at the Terrace who could get away with speaking to him like that, or who would even dare to do so.

Some kinds of friendship held a lot of sway.

He sighed and dropped his defensive tone again.

"I'm…worried."

"About the kid?"

"No," he snorted, "She's probably insufferable enough to make it and become your problem. I mean that she'd the only one in – what? Four months? – who's had any kind of Self. It's whiny, blinkered and annoying, but there's more residual in there than I've seen for a long time."

Jackie nodded a silent agreement and Richard found himself running through a quick mental assessment of recent weeks. Sueage levels were at a high, which in itself was nothing unusual, but it was the lack of anything else that was concerning. Overall quality was known to decline in big highs, but never this much before. Even he'd only brought in four in as many months, including the latest, and he was good. None of the others had lasted. One hadn't made it through the sporking, one survived but so mentally damaged she hadn't lasted the week and the other…had gone berserk at Kate.

That had taken a lot of cleaning up.

"There's nothing beyond the Sue," he muttered, "So many times. It's getting worse, and we're getting fewer and fewer coming out of it."

"Hey," Jackie leaned forward and rested a hand lightly on his shoulder; "We've had big highs before. Remember last Easter? We've won this before, we can do it again."

"That isn't what I'm worried about." The retort was a little sharper than he'd meant it to be, but he didn't try to correct it. She didn't understand. Reasonable enough, admittedly. He wasn't exactly sure what his instincts were telling him either, but if he was worried…

He was worried. There was no 'if'. He didn't know why, and that was dangerous. Not knowing all the facts when you were supplying them, that was dangerous. Part of you knowing something the rest of you was unaware of – here, that was particularly dangerous.

He stood up abruptly.

"I'm going to shower and sleep. Straighten my head out a bit," finally, he tried a small smile, "See if I can't be less 'tetchy'."

"Sounds like a plan," Jackie returned the grin and glanced at her watch, "And I'll go get a room ready. With any luck, we'll be up one houseguest tonight."

"The eighteenth residual Serena."

"Hey," Jackie chuckled, "I think Serenas have got it easy. Zitkalasa Weasley? You're mad Sue, mad," she giggled and poked herself in the chest. Richard rolled his eyes but couldn't resist a smirk.

"Yeah, you got it bad."

The mismatched stare twinkled as she straightened up and prodded him in the stomach with a black-polished nail, "And you can start? What were you before sanity invaded?"

"You know perfectly well." Ice practically danced in the air as his words passed through it. Jackie shook her head and stepped back, aware she'd gone a little too far.

"Okay, sorry for the nerve-hitting. C'mon, let's get going."

They left the break room in awkward silence and went their separate ways. Richard shook his head at himself as he headed towards his room in the west end of the Terrance. He knew he shouldn't have reacted like that. He also knew that, should the same situation arise again, he'd respond exactly the same way.

If there was one thing you learnt fast here, it was how to push thoughts out of your mind, and Richard changed his focus to the far more pleasant thought that he'd actually be able to sleep in his own bed tonight. That was a rare pleasure.

As he started on the last set of stairs before his corridor, he made a mental note to check when he awoke to see if his survivals tally had gone up again, but that was all the thought the most recent Serena got. She wasn't his problem anymore.

He had enough of those already.

---

Consciousness slowly filtered into Sam's mind, bringing with it a series of realisations. Firstly, her entire body hurt like hell. Second, she didn't have any recollection of falling asleep – or passing out, whichever was more accurate – or, for that matter, anything other than a lot of fog in memory of what happened before that. Judging by the softness of her surroundings, she was also in a bed.

Thirdly…she'd just thought of herself as Sam…

She rolled the thoughts over in her mind for a while. She felt…odd. Not ill, aside from the constant ache, just…odd. Her brain skipped strangely from thought to thought, as if it had lost the file cards to her memories and was having to sort through poorly-labelled drawers to find what it wanted. There something…missing, almost. It was like a sudden cession of a constant background noise, noticeable more by its absence than it ever had been with its presence.

Actually, now she thought about it, it wasn't just her mind that felt off-kilter.

Carefully, half afraid any suddenly movements would only serve to further accentuate the steady throb encircling her, she eased her eyes open. It took a few moments of blinking before she managed to focus, and even then the view was hardly worth it. Ceiling plaster wasn't exactly an enlightening vision. Although it did mean she was out of the basement. She sat up slowly and let her gaze wander across the room. It was a small bedroom, furnished sparsely with probably third-hand furniture, although it was all in good condition. Since the movement produced no particularly adverse reactions, she risked straightening up completely, and switched her attention back to herself. She was clad in an unfamiliar long white T-shirt, and-

What the-? Her eyes widened in shock and she gripped the material, wrenching it over her head hard.

Where the hell were her breasts?

Automatically she leapt upright, ignoring the protests from her muscles, and scrambled over towards the thin mirror hanging on the opposite wall. What she saw prompted a small yelp of shock to escape her lips. It was several minutes before she was even able to accept what her eyes were telling. Her body was…different. There was significantly less of it, for one thing. The curves that she had once considered one of her best features were gone. Her waist had thickened, her bust reduced by at least three cup sizes, she seemed to have lost several inches in height. Her hair was still waist-length, but for the first time she could remember it was half-tangled and unruly, small bits sticking out a weird angles where she'd been resting on it. It was also significantly less golden, and there were tiny hints of almost brown near the roots!

She…she looked…

…like a slightly skinny fourteen-year old, actually.

That was weird in itself – she could remember having a deep, unshakeable believe that she was twelve. Right now, however, that belief was as deep as a puddle and shaken all but to pieces. It wasn't the only thing either, she realised as she thought about it carefully, she was having difficulty picking out any really crystal recollections. A few hazy, unfocused images rose across her mind; of green-inked parchment arriving by golden owl, followed by a set of memories so blurred it was as if they'd happen behind frosted glass. Picking a wand – selected by it producing what seemed to be a glowing pink horse-shaped cloud; personal robe-fitting in every colour but black; visits to what was either a ballet school or a stylist – the fuzzy pink and mirrors could have been either – and something very hazy with a glass globe and deep, scratchy voice. She also dimly recalled having a cat somewhere along the line, although the only clear memory that seemed linked to it was of oily smoke and an unearthly shriek…

…wait…

She remembered –

-Flash-

It was like staring into twin rings of some strange kaleidoscope- shades and colours rose, swirled and faded as she watched, his stare rippling from green to blue to grey to a dozen shades between and back again.

-Flash-

Her breath caught in her throat, eyes widening as the world span away before her and images loomed like monstrous shadows through the fog in her mind. She remembered –

-Flash-

"You know about werewolves, Veela, vampires, right? In some ways very human. In others, very not."

-Flash-

She felt her knees give way and sank down onto the carpet, seeing nothing past the whirling, rising images. She remembered –

-Flash-

"You're a Mary-Sue. And believe me, that's going to be the least of your problems."

She remembered…Richard…

Deep inside her mind, something gave, and suddenly the mental fog pulled away. Not from around before, that was still as hazy, but suddenly everything from the Station onwards hit her at once. The platform, the attack, Richard, escape, confusion, the Terrace, Jackie, Kate, and over it all a terror like nothing she even recognised, a dark, angry fear not her own yet invading every second of memory, infusing it with the terrible dread she'd felt since those words.

"You're a Mary-Sue."

She didn't understand, but something had changed, something missing from her mind. Something that had felt such mortal terror at the sight of the sporks.

She was, or at least had been, a Mary-Sue.

What was she now?

Speckled, apparently. Sam's gaze traced down the arms outstretched infront of her, propping her up, and this time she noticed the marks. Stretched out across her body was a web of tiny red marks, as if she'd been jabbed repeatedly with thick pins along every inch. Every inch, a hesitant touch could feel the marks on her eyelids. Was that what had happened in the cellar? The memories from there were…abstract. A heavily gloved hand, silver and pain were the only easily identified concepts, and Sam felt no desire to examine them any further. Some things were probably best left forgotten.

Right now she was here, she was alive, and she was going to have to make the best of it. If Richard could be believed, and she somehow felt he could, she wasn't entirely human, everything she once thought true was not, and the only answers could come from this Terrace of people…like her.

In all honesty, she was surprised at how – relatively – calm she felt about all of this.

What she certainly was, however, was cold. Sitting in front of a mirror naked was not a thermal activity. She glanced round for the shirt she'd thrown aside, and noticed the dresser set against the opposite wall. Three piles of material were on top of it, so she made her way over and examined them cautiously. They all looked about her size – now – but the actual constituents of the piles were very different. The first seemed to be entirely constructed of garish, painfully bright pink material with yellow smiley faces and poorly-printed kanji scattered over it. Sam didn't even attempt to pick anything up – it was entirely possible pink that bright would burn – and transferred her attention to the next set. That wasn't much better, and looked like it belonged to a rather morbid business girl who'd had an accident with a rivet gun. After several minutes of trying to work out how the mostly-black-string top would actually fit onto a human, Sam gave up, and glanced with apprehension at the next set.

Actually, they weren't too bad. Plain jeans, underwear, a blue rugby shirt and a pair of trainers. Fine. As she pulled them on, she was dimly aware of something in the back of her mind noting that this was about as far away from her normal style as possible. Her gaze caught on the wounds pricked out down her arm and she shivered. Maybe that was no bad thing.

A light knock on the door cut abruptly through her thoughts, making her jump and spin around as a scarlet-capped head appeared round the frame.

"Hey, great, you're up." Jackie pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside without waiting for a response. She glanced round and nodded with obvious approval.

"You're doing well kid."

Sam eyed her apprehensively. Sure, the extremely-redhead had seemed nice enough before, but she was still wary. Her – if it was her – previous panic and only mostly subsided.

"How so?" She muttered nervously, starting to knot her unexpectedly unruly hair out of her eyes. Anything to avoid Jackie's unnervingly friendly gaze. The older woman grinned broadly.

"You're conscious, you picked something sensible to wear and you're acting half-human. That's good, no, that's damn good the day after a full sporking. We've had 'em curled up in the foetal position for weeks, unable to adapt to losing the Influence. You're pretty strong for a Serena."

"I'm Sam now, aren't I?" Sam was impressed how steady she'd managed to keep her voice. It was true too – she couldn't apply 'Serena' to herself anymore. It just…didn't fit…no, that wasn't quite strong enough. Her mind actually rebelled against the idea of using the name, her thoughts clinging almost desperately around 'Sam'. It was weird but, frankly, nothing compared to the rest of the overall bizarreness of her situation.

Jackie was still talking; something about 'recent survivals', but Sam wasn't taking it in. Her mind was buzzing and every strand of thought was tied inexorably, to the one urgent, insisting question. She took a deep breath.

"Jackie?"

The red-haired woman paused mid- sentence and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"What the hell is going on?"

-