Chapter Two

A/N: Whoa, amazing, huh? Me updating and all. To clear up a few things…

1. Kit drinking the hot sauce bottle was a bet with Carmela. Ten bucks that he could finish more of a Tabasco bottle than she could.

2. Nita and Kit have recently broken up, hence the tears from Nita.

Any other questions? Review and I'll answer them.

Thank you for reading! And please… just… review. It only takes 10 seconds…

Are we growing up?

Or just going down

It's just a matter of time until we're all found out

Take our tears, put 'em on ice

Cause I swear, I'd burn the city down to show you the light.

-Fall Out Boy- Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year

Why did dogs have wet, freezing cold noses?

Kit pondered that question as, bleary-eyed, he rolled over and glared resentfully at Ponch, who was now lying across the room from him, looking perfectly innocent and happy.

…It's summer. I don't like getting up at any time later than about noon during the summer.

Ponch sneezed.

My bad.

A half-snort from Kit.

Yeah, you bad. He sighed. Let me guess. You woke me up because you wanna go for a walk?

Kinda, yeah.

Kit groaned, starting to painfully lever himself out of bed.

Right... let's see if I can get to my closet without falling over anything.

---

Stumbling along the sidewalk, Kit yawned hugely, half watching Ponch prance around at the end of his leash.

"Why the hell am I so tired?" he wondered aloud, stifling another yawn and rubbing at his blurring eyes.

Ponch glanced back at him. Are you all right?

Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired.

A short silence from Ponch.

You seem more than just a little tired. Exhausted, too. And weak.

Indignant, Kit shot back.

I'm not weak! But I am tired. Dunno why.

A sense of regret rose from Ponch's consciousness.

Did I wake you up too early? he inquired unhappily.

Kit half smiled. Nah, nothing to do with you. I'll be all right.

His dog let out a short whuff of air, content, and marched on, keeping an eye out for any stray squirrels that might dart out from a backyard somewhere.

Fortunately for Kit, they didn't see a single squirrel all throughout their walk down and halfway back up the street.

Unfortunately, they saw one four houses down from Kit's.

Ponch being Ponch, he joyfully began barking his head off and tore off after the squirrel, Kit being towed behind again, running frantically to avoid being pulled flat on his face.

The squirrel ripped madly up the nearest tree, between Kit's house and the neighbor's, and Ponch sat at the base of the tree, panting happily, and letting out the occasional growl at the offending rodent.

On the other hand, something else entirely had caught Kit's attention. With his usual appalling aim, the local paperboy had managed to wedge the day's edition of the New York Times in a nearby bush. It was the first word of the headline splashed in massive black letters front page that interested him. Kit pulled his neighbor's paper from the bush and blinked.

Earthquake in Manhattan

Curious, Kit glanced guiltily up at his neighbor's house, and gently pulled the string off the rolled paper. Unfolding it, he read the rest of the story.

Downtown Manhattan shuddered late Thursday evening in what was the biggest earthquake New York City has experienced since 1884. The 3.2 magnitude earthquake was centered just off Atlantic Beach, on what experts say is formerly unknown fault line. Little to no damage was reported in the high-rise commercial buildings that dominate the skyline in the Downtown Area, besides the immense surprise of many residents at the occurrence of an earthquake. Linda Palmor, 36, was reported to have….

Kit could have cared less about Linda Palmor, more worried about the freak occurrence of the latest earthquake. He knew very well what had happened with the 1884 earthquake, and had almost experienced another one about four years previous, when the Song had very nearly gone awry.

There were a variety of words that could have been used to sum up the situation, and Kit managed to somehow incorporate all of them into a single interjection.

"…Shit."

---

Dragging a wholly unwilling Ponch through the front door of his house, Kit shut the door behind him and made for the phone.

Seven numbers and four rings later, the phone picked up on the other end.

"Tom Swale speaking."

Kit breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey Tom, it's Kit. Listen, did you see the front page of today's paper?"

"Er... hold on a second…"

A brief silence followed, followed by the thwack of paper hitting a counter, and another brief silence.

"Oh. Oh. Um. This could be dire."

Kit, keeping an eye on Ponch, laughed grimly. "Yeah, that's what I thought when I saw it. Is there any other info on this?"

On Tom's end, he heard him flipping pages of his massively thick manual.

"Yeah, I do. And you're not going to like this… oh, hey, Carl. Look at this…"

A long stream of swearwords issued from somewhere in the background, indicating the severity of the situation. Anything over eight was bad, and Carl's chain seemed to cover every one in the history of the English language.

Tom came back on the line. "Okay… this is bad. The Song went badly… we lost four marine-zone wizards just from that. All kinds of crap is boiling up down there, and it's going to be a hell of a time trying to get this back together."

A strange sense of foreboding swept over Kit at the mention of the marine wizards.

"Er… Tom? Does the manual have a listing of the names?"

Another pause.

"Yes, yes it does. Check yours, the Recent Events section. God, even I can't pronounce some of these."

Kit picked up his manual from its place on the counter and flipped it open.

The foreboding feeling had been well-formed. Listed among the Celebrants who had died as a result of the Song going awry was S'reee.

"Oh, dammit… we lost S'reee..."

Tom's voice now took on an edge of panic.

"My God, have you seen your power ratings? They've dropped a hell of a lot… are you all right?"

Kit sighed. "I'm fine, just… tired."

More swearing, this time from Tom.

"Don't transport. You're going to need as much energy as you possibly can. This isn't going to be an easy thing to fix. Crap, we need to get people down there now. Bring Nita, and get downtown as fast as you can."

Kit froze at the sound of the name. "Oh… er… Nita?"

Tom sighed again. "Yeah… I know what happened, but… just try to put that aside for now. This is a big matter. A really big matter."

A sigh escaped Kit's lips. "All right. I'll see you down there in a bit."

"Will do."

Kit tossed the phone back onto the cradle.

Trying to put what had happened aside. So, so much easier said than done.

He wearily picked up the phone again and dialed the number he knew by heart.

His ex's number.

---

Nita's phone went off with a prolonged buzz as it vibrated against the wood of her desk.

Nita, on the other hand, had no intentions of answering it until it buzzed right off the desk and clattered to the floor.

She rolled out of bed, pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and dived for the phone.

"Hey, this is Nita."

"…hey Nita… it's Kit."

Her heart skipped a beat in surprise.

"…Hi Kit. Um… what's up?"

"Listen, have you seen today's front page?"

"Er… no… why d'you ask?"

"S'reee's dead," Kit intoned dully.

"Are you freaking kidding?"

"No, Nita, I'm not. What's more, there was an earthquake Downtown the other night, and you know what causes earthquakes. The Song went badly… it killed four of the Celebrants. Tom wants us down by the docks by Ground Zero ASAP."

Nita sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Oh God. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"All right."

An awkward pause.

Nita cleared her throat. "Er… Kit?"

"Huh?"

"…I'm sorry."

He sighed. "I know."

Another long, awkward silence as they struggled to find words to say to each other.

Nita broke it. "Well… I'd better get down there then."

"Right. …er. See you there."

The phone went dead in her hand, leaving Nita sitting on the edge of her bed, half in shock.

She had personally known S'reee, having worked with her on the last Song, and nearly dying because of not reading the fine print.

Numb yourself and MOVE.

Nita, pushing the thought of S'reee's death to the back of her mind, pulled out her transport spell. Altering the coordinates, she set them for Ground Zero, and hurried downstairs. Leaving a note for her dad on the refrigerator, she tossed the circle to the ground and stepped into it.

In the split second before it took hold, she felt the absence of Kit's body next to her, as it had been so many times before, and sighed as her mood changed.

With a pop, she was gone.

---

Kit's process of getting there was much, much slower.

Slapping a Post-it onto the fridge door, he grabbed his car keys and headed out the door.

Climbing into his ten-year-old Honda hatchback, he started the engine and shot down the street, heading towards the freeway that would take him to Downtown Manhattan.

God, it was going to be a long day.

---