Author's Notes:

One last one for now, but more later... whenI get around to it. If you review, they'll come alot faster...!

---

Cursings

Overture One

"Umm… Augghhh. A Ghost. We should, um, run away." Tucker lamely pulled at Sam's sleeve, making giant head-motions towards Glyn. Sam just shook him off and ran to Danny's side, worry evident in her eyes. Glyn was hugging herself, elbows cupped in scraped palms.

"Are you ok?" she whispered. Danny smiled wanly, and after looking at Glyn for a moment, he turned to Sam. Here in his eyes was the warning; they couldn't let Glyn know. Not yet. She might not be trustworthy enough for such a momentous, life-shaking secret. Nodding silently, Sam backed away, and grabbed Glyn's hand. Forcing herself to look away from him, Sam turned to her cousin's steely silver-blue eyes. There was an unvoiced question there, one that Glyn required consent to ask. Shaking her head, Sam pulled back and motioned Tucker to follow.

There weren't any words spoken. It was as if any voice might break the now compromised barriers to a secret. Turning away, the ghost boy soared away, diving straight into the sun and out of sight. Sam walked on, her eyes barely looking, her mind occupied with thoughts and emotions that occurred more and more often. Tucker, hands full with his and another of Glyn's suitcases, watched the asphalt with acute concentration. Glyn, carrying her duffle bag and one suitcase, was trying to process fully what had happened. The helplessness she had felt was close to her mind, a feeling she didn't want repeated.

Suddenly, out of no where, Danny appeared, his white T-shirt slightly more wrinkled and his hair messier than before. Smiling tiredly, he hailed the silent three with a wave.

"Hey, guys. Sorry for ducking out – it was mostly instinct, run for cover stuff. Didn't even remember that you guys existed until the shots stopped." Glyn looked up, slightly, and she tilted her face in an appraising motion. Her eyes remained impassive, but it was obvious she didn't quite believe what he had said. Lowering his head to hide his apprehension, Danny let his shoulders droop in mock-embarrassment. "Hehe... well ok, I got a little scared. Ran away. Sorry."

Looking up, he saw Glyn's expression was a lot friendlier. The way she smiled showed that she now bought his explanation. As he caught up to the rest of them, Tucker unceremoniously dumped his third suitcase at Danny's feet. Glaring at the techno before forcing his tired arms to pick up the heavy bag, he felt some of the weight lifted. Looking to his left, he saw Sam there, holding the other handle.

"I'll carry it, Danny." She smiled slightly and turned away. Glyn walked past Danny, coming to Sam's shoulder. Looking back, she smiled at Danny.

"Hey, if you want, I could show all of you some really simple karate moves, you know, just in case this happens again. It didn't do much for me today, but, like they say, one bitten twice shy. We'll know how to defend ourselves next time, with the right information. I guarantee it. And then our knight in shining hasmat won't have to rescue us." She didn't notice the trepidation on Tucker's face or the triumphant, pondering look of Danny. Glyn did see Sam's look of hope mixed with despair.

Who is this white haired hero, she wondered, and why does Sam act like she's Lois Lain to his Superman?

--

Skulker was grumbling at the exit of the library, arms full of articles and scanned pages on the purple back gorilla. Walking down the side alley beside the library, he dropped the papers beside the dumpster.

"Some day I'm going to get that Ghost boy, and when I do, I'm going to-" he was not allowed to finish the thought. As he was about to engage his landing gear, a bolt of red ectoplasm caught him right under his arm-plate, one of the weak spots on his armor. Crashing into the brick wall, Skulker felt for his wrist cannon. Before he could move to activate it, another red orb flew at him, hitting the hand that reached to fire.

The attacker stood in the shadow, more for the cover it gave than the meaning. One more red orb glowed at the figure's finger tips, held like a grenade. There was warning in that gesture, a not-so-subtle threat that promised only ill. Cringing back into the brick-work, Skulker looked to where he though his attacker's eyes should be.

The figure didn't emerge from the darkness, but the voice that emerged was most definitively male. There was a roughness in it that did not bode well for Skulker; the violence in it was barely suppressed, awaiting its time of release.

"I wouldn't try that again. I've been meaning to see if this stuff could destroy Ghosts." Suddenly, there was movement in the shadows, the red light fluctuating and seizing. Skulker stayed completely still, trying to seize a hold of the situation by waiting for his attacker's weakness to emerge after this display of restraint.

"What do you want?" Skulker kept his voice calm. This time, there was more control in his voice, the violence restrained, if barely.

"Tell me all you know of the Ghost child, the one known as Phantom."

--

Glyn awoke, sweating profusely. Hair was plastered to her skin, and the cotton pajamas stuck uncomfortably to her slick skin. Pulling back the asphalt black sheets, Glyn raised a hand to her pounding forehead. It was still pounding, having never really stopped from earlier. Cringing as she sat at the edge of the bed she was sharing with Sam, Glyn placed her bare feet on the thick black carpet.

Everything had gone smoothly after that incident. No one had tried to explain any of that to her, preferring to remain in an uncomfortable silence until they group had reach the Manson family's home. Danny had been exuding an aching exhaustion that didn't fit with the weight of her bags, Sam was distant and misty, and Tucker was just surly and rebellious. The boys had gone their separate ways while her aunt and uncle got her set up in Sam's room. Her room wasn't quite ready yet, and no matter her protests, they would not let her stay in the half finished guest room.

Sighing, Glyn let her shoulder droop. Tucker didn't like her, that was obvious. Tucker was the only one she could ally herself to if Sam had prior engagements. Danny was so obviously her cousin's object of affection that if Glyn got too close it would put them at war. But Tucker was dead set against liking her, it seemed.

All this is just a distraction, her little voice of reason said. You just don't want to think about earlier. When you were helpless. When you were completely out of control of what happened to you. It was true; it scared her far too much. She didn't like being vulnerable – it just didn't sit right. And the fact that today was the first taste of real terror that she had felt in years.

Getting to her feet, Glyn waded across Sam's darkened room. Her bags were thrown carelessly in the corner, out of the way. Reaching them, Glyn got out her flashlight. It wasn't the kind of night where she wanted to be alone in the dark.

She got to the door with very little difficulty. Her memory sucked, but she managed to still whatever it was she knocked into before it fell and caused a commotion. Sam's day was hard enough as it was. The goth girl might show a hardened face to the world, but with Glyn she was more open. Today scared as well, though for different. Glyn got the distinct impression that Sam was worried over their white haired hero.

He reminds me of someone, she though without much care. Whoever he was, he was obviously a good guy. He could have gotten their little group after that other one went away. But instead he flew away, leaving them unharmed. He had actually saved Glyn.

Entering the hall, she carefully picked a path out to the stairs. Sam's room was far too much like a cave for her taste. There was only one window, albeit a big bay window, and the rest was done in black or violet. Too closed in, too narrow, too dark. Glyn was reminded perversely of her older brother's room. Finally reaching the banister, she crept down the blonde wood stairs. It was hard to believe that Sam was the daughter of Glyn's aunt and uncle.

She made it up to the top floor without incident, and sneaking into the half finished guest room, hers traditionally, Glyn scampered to the window. Somehow the entire house seemed suffocating. Throwing it open, Glyn took a deep breathe of fresh air. Allowing the crisp night air to wash over her sticky body, she clambered up the windowsill.

Swinging up onto the ledge, Glyn grabbed at the wrought iron trellis that stood next to the window. Shaking it to see if it would still hold her weight, Glyn finally decided it was safe and jumped from one to the other, pale blue pajama's fluttering. Finding the next rung, Glyn started to crawl up the make-shift ladder.

The old ivy lattice creaked dangerously, and Glyn threw all her weight towards the wall. After a moment of comforting silence, she continued to climb up towards the roof of the New England style home. She had done this many times in the past, when she had become fed up with her other family members. She hadn't showed Sam this little secret, and her aunt and uncle never expecting their well behaved niece of doing something so dangerous.

The dark, steely blue slate of the roof was washed in the simple silver light of the waning moon. That in itself was nice. It brought back memories of her old home. Scrambling up to the roof, grace forgotten as she reached on tiptoe for the edge of the roof, she made a lunge for the outcrop.

Reopening the scabs on her knees, Glyn was able to make it onto the roof. She winced, but it was worth. Lying down, back to the frigid slate, she panted a little. The crisp air of early fall wasn't cold enough to mist, but that wasn't too long away. Grinning up at the starts, Glyn relaxed and allowed the night to act as a balm on body and mind.

She had almost drifted asleep when she heard a sound below her. Shaking the stiffness from her body, Glyn carefully peered out over the roof to the guest room window. She could see a little, but not nearly enough to tell her what was going on. What if it was Mrs. and Mr. Manson, and they caught her up here? Cautious to keep from being seen, she edged closer, hoping for a better view.

There was Sam, very, very warily climbing out onto the Ivy trellis. Her violet silky pajamas rustled in the slight wind as she finally got a grip on the cool iron. Her midnight black hair must have gotten in her eyes, because she took a step down hastily and nearly lost her footing. Cringing to the wall, Sam closed her eyes tightly, bracing for a fall. But luckily the wrought iron was stronger than it looked, and so Glyn's cousin began her descent down.

As Sam's be-slippered feet touched grass, she jumped away and dashed off onto the lawn, not looking back, or even up where Glyn's shadow was silhouetted by the bright moon. Leaning back, she found her world a tad more complicated than it was a mere moment ago. Sam had been trying to sneak out for a long time, but she always had done it more carefully. And since when had she known about the guest room escape?

And that brought other unpleasant thoughts. If she didn't tell Glyn that she knew about that, what else wasn't she sharing?