SIRENS

-x-

Chapter 3

-x-

Diana watched the sky change colours with the setting suns, fiddling with her beads, humming absent mindedly. She didn't know how long she had been there. She didn't even know what she was thinking about any more. She was lost in her daydreams, and it felt for what seemed like an age that nothing could draw her from them...

'Nice buns.'

Startled, she leapt out of her reverie, whipping herself around to face the owner of the sardonic voice, then sighed in a combination of relief and irritation when she saw who it was that had spoken.

Eric leaned against a chair at the side of the table precariously, biting into the iced bun that he had picked up from the still laden platters.

'Do you think,' he asked her through a mouth of sugary crumbs, 'that Janapurna always keeps plenty of cakes served on the table until the next meal?' He indicated towards a giant, half eaten, six foot high wedding cake at the end of the table. 'I mean, how long d'ya reckon that's been there? Since their last mid-forced-wedding rescue, I'll bet. Trust Janni to liberate the dessert course as well as the bride, huh?'

Diana poked at a strudel. 'It's her Palace. She can do what she likes.'

'Well Lah-Dee-Dah!' Eric threw his hands in the air in a sarcastic expression of joy. 'It speaks! Well I never, Hush my mouth...'

'...wish somebody would...' muttered Diana, reproachfully.

'And there was me,' continued Eric with a fake merriment, 'thinking that you were planning on simply ignoring me for the rest of our lives. When you're not laughing at me, of course.'

'...shut up, Er...'

'Oh, I'm sorry, what's that?' He cupped an ear, blinking coquettishly. 'Was that a "Shut up, Eric"? Well, I do apologize, I had no idea that we'd just gone back in time eight fucking years!'

Diana just stared at him. 'You're being very childish, Eric.'

'What did you expect? I told you I loved you and you pushed me away. And now you won't even breathe a word to me any more.'

'We both need our space...'

'You've got oodles of space!' Eric's voice was slipping out of sarcasm, and was fast becoming loud and tense with frustrated rage. 'You've got more space than anyone I've ever seen! A whole Realm to run and skip and jump across and a whole sky to sail on. Alone. All alone because nobody else can keep up with you, and you fucking well know that. So don't you dare tell me that you need space!'

'But you...'

'And don't tell me what I want and what I need, because I've had space and I've had solitude up to my eyeballs and I've always hated it. I want the opposite to that, and I guess we've worked out now that you can't give that to me. But I tried, Diana. God help me, I tried so hard, you can't say that I didn't...' he paused, catching his breath. 'I need my friends. So even if I've lost Sexy Diana, I've gotta keep hold of Buddy Diana at the least, because I'm fighting a really tough battle here. I'm trying to get well again, but I need my friends to do that and... and I'm losing too many, too fast. Either dead or drifting away...'

'We're still friends, Eric.'

'This isn't friendship! This is...' Eric faltered slightly in his tirade, searching for the right word. 'This is Edwardo.'

Diana cocked an eyebrow. '"Edwardo"? That Spanish boyfriend you made up?'

Eric pointed accusatorily at Diana, his hand still full of pastry. 'Whenever you'd got sick of some guy, and he still kept calling, you'd hand the phone over to me and Edwardo would get rid of him.'

Diana smiled slightly at the memory. 'Yeah. That was fun, wasn't it?'

'Ccchello?' Eric held an imaginary handset up to his ear, speaking in a terrible deep, fake Spanish accent. 'No. She no cchere. She shoppeeng. I geev her plateenum card, I say "go, my love, buy seelken underpanties, nothing eez too good for you". Her last lover, cche neglected herrr. Who can I say eez calling? No say. Cche hang up.'

Diana giggled a little as he put the invisible handset back on the invisible receiver. Eric met eyes with her, sternly.

'We used to laugh at those poor saps, didn't we? But every time I took the piss out of one of them, I just thought "you poor bastard. You thought she was fond of you, didn't ya? How wrong you were." I was on your side, though. I always was. Because, selfish, vain creature that I am, I thought you and me were different from that. But I was wrong too, wasn't I?'

'This doesn't have anything to do with any of the other guys, Eric.'

Eric banged a fist on the table. 'Of course it does! Because I am just another one of those guys, aren't I? I didn't last any longer, I didn't get any more affection or commitment. Or respect, Diana, and that's what's really eating me up. After all the years of friendship, I find out that once Diana Jones has got sick of having sex with you, she just shuts you out like all those other notches on her bedpost, no matter who you are!'

Diana's fists bunched voluntarily. She had been accused of that by another member of the gang before, and the memory of it enraged her, suddenly.

'You'd better back the Hell off,' she growled. 'You'd better not go down the path I can see you going down...'

'What's that? The path where we try to work out exactly how many dicks have been in you before mine?'

A torrent of red rage fell over Diana's eyes. She picked up the nearest object to hand and flung it across the table at him. He dodged, and the flan missed, exploding wetly on the wall behind him.

'Oh, yeah,' he continued in a snarl, 'you'd love to see that, wouldn't you? Comedy Eric says the wrong thing again and ends up humiliated and covered in custard. You'd just love to pretend that there's nothing about me that deserves the tiniest little bit of fucking respect!'

With that, he threw the half eaten bun at her, catching the side of her arm with icing.

Diana gasped, infuriated.

'You dare to lecture me about respect, when you're so obsessed with how many boyfriends I've had?'

She threw another cake, the stickiest, jammiest that she could find. This one hit him square on the chin. He scraped off the mess, furiously.

'The one night wonders were "boyfriends"?' He darted sideways, trying to make a dash around to her side of the table, but she ran the other way. 'That doesn't make me any different from the rest of them now, does it?' He stopped in the spot where she had been standing, glaring at her in his old spot opposite. 'So come on, how did I score? Do you have a little chart?' He picked up a large sponge and hurled it at her, hitting her torso. She responded with a shower of chocolates. 'Come on, Diana,' he continued to rant from beneath the onslaught of confectionary, 'gimme notes. A rating out of ten. Tell me how I'm gonna fare against all the others. It's OK, I'm no stranger to abject humiliation...'

Eric had to duck to avoid a flying knife. 'Hey! No cutlery!'

'Just because I've had sex with more than one person, Eric,' spat Diana cruelly. 'Just because I'm not some emotionally retarded 21 year old Uber Virgin!' She was hit in the left eye by a carefully catapulted spoonful of clotted cream.

'You're calling me emotionally retarded?' he yelled. 'That's pretty rich, coming from you...'

'Doesn't make it any less true!' She picked up a plate and began to pile it high with cakes and cream, intermittently hurling things at Eric and fending off the missiles being thrown in her direction. 'You're not normal, Eric Montgomery. Never have been, never will. Ask anybody!'

Cottoning on to the fact that Diana was trying to fashion a giant Food Weapon, Eric grabbed a plate for himself and began to copy her activities.

'Well, at least I'm not a cold hearted whore like you.'

I'd rather be a cold hearted whore than a socially backward, whiny, idiotic, fundamentally unlikable lonely loser like you!'

'Plenty of people like me!'

'About three people like you, Eric, in this world and the other!'

'Well, people only like you because you're so eager to suck every cock that comes your way...'

That remark was replied with a well aimed jug of sweet wine in the face.

'Bitch!' Screamed Eric, clambering over the table towards her.

Diana didn't run this time, but got up onto the table herself, loaded platter in hand, and started to crawl towards him.

'Bastard!'

'Slut!'

'Asshole!'

He lashed out his free hand and caught her roughly by the hair at the back of her head, trying to force her face towards the heaped plate in his other hand. With lightning response, she grasped his hair in a similar hold, and attempted to do the same. They both winced and screamed through the pain as they tried to drag the other into the sticky, sugary mess.

'CUUUUNNNNNTTTT!'

Diana gasped, shock and indignity causing her, briefly, to lose her focus.

'Don't you dare call me a... Ow!'

He succeeded in pulling her face down into the plate, then dropped her, the plate still stuck to her head, onto the table.

'Baftd fnnuh vuh bissh...'

She retrieved her face from the mess, furiously wiping cream and crumbs from her eyes just in time to see him getting to his feet, standing victoriously over her on the table.

'Well I guess now you know what it feels like to be a laughing sto...OOOCCCK...'

She lunged, catching his legs. He toppled, falling lengthways into the laden table. Enraged, she scrabbled over his body until she was on top of him. He twisted himself round so that he was facing her. That's when she saw it. That curl of the corner of his lip. He was laughing! She grabbed his chin roughly.

'Are you laughing at me?'

He grinned unashamedly at her cake covered bedragglement. 'You look silly.'

He managed to catch the open palm flying towards him, and held her wrist tightly, raising his eyebrows at her.

'I guess some people just can't stand the taste of their own medici...'

'Shut up,' she growled, and kissed him, aggressively, on the mouth.

She sensed his grin growing on her lips as he relaxed into the kiss, allowing her tongue in and releasing her hand to wrap his arms around her. That was her chance. She pulled out of the kiss as suddenly as she had pushed in to it, expertly grabbing a jug of custard and pouring it over his surprised face in one fluid movement. She sat back happily, still straddling his torso, drawing a pair of spectacles in the custard around his eyes.

'Who looks silly now?'

He lashed out his arms, grabbing her thighs and flipping her off him and onto her back before she had a moment to react. Jumping on top of her so heavily that he knocked the wind out of her lungs, he returned her kiss, just as hard, just as angry, just as forceful, one hand holding both of hers above her head, the other roaming down her body. She didn't see his hand briefly move away from her belly to the bowl beside them. She did, however, feel the handful of cold trifle as he pushed it down her shorts and left it there. She closed her lips to the kiss, and he sat up, his previous flushed frustration replaced with an expression of smug mischief, licking the remaining trifle from his fingers. She grimaced, pushing him away.

'Thanks a lot, Eric.'

He knelt up, allowing her to rise. 'You started it.'

'Yeah.' She met his eyes, seriously. The irritation was beginning to return to his face. 'But this is stupid.'

Eric pressed his lips tightly in aggravation. His eyes flashed with the effort of trying to think of a decent comeback, then he sighed, defeated, getting to his feet.

'We both know there's only one way either of us is gonna win this fight,' added Diana. She put her arms around his, leaning her head onto his shoulder.

'Death?' guessed Eric.

Diana smiled into his breastplate, and began to push him backwards. 'Cake or Death.'

Eric's eyes narrowed. She had his arms pinned to his sides and was pushing him backwards, hard and fast. He couldn't keep his balance and was forced to keep stepping back along the long table, towards...

'No...'

He knew what was at the end of the table...

'Diana, no!'

'Yes.'

'No!'

'Yes!'

'Think of the mess!'

'Look at the mess we already made!'

'It's probably stale...'

'So they won't mind you ruining it.'

'Diana. Consider that...'

He never got to finish. His heel came off the end of the table and formed a pivot. They both fell, screaming with laughter, into the remaining half of a very large, very old, very sticky Wedding Cake.

-x-

Darkness fell entirely, and the stars and moons began to shine in the sky and on the surface of the black river mouth. Miles away, swift, snakelike shapes continued to fly through the ocean water, towards the slow sailing castle.

In an outer hall of the palace, two creatures, more confectionary than human, lay back, panting happily, in the remains of an enormous cake. They scraped the icing and humorously positioned raspberries from their faces and surveyed the scene before them. It looked as though there had been an almighty explosion in a custard factory. That had blown all of their clothes off. One of them, a female, spoke.

'I don't think that cake was off after all, you know.'

'Too bad,' said the other. 'It's pretty inedible now.'

The first creature tutted. 'D'you think we should offer to get them a new one?'

'Or,' suggested the male, 'we could always throw the cake overboard, get rid of the evidence and pretend it wasn't us.'

The female grinned, teasingly. 'Bing Bong! Another corner cutting, self serving Easy Way Out Idea from the brain of Eric Montgomery!'

'"Sensible", Dee. The word you are looking for is "Sensible".'

The female frowned at the male for a moment, then looked at the devastation around her again and sighed.

'You're dethpicable. Let's do it.'

-x-

It was a clear night, and the light of the moons cast a pale glow over the courtyard. Sheila looked up from her little hiding spot, tucked away in a secluded corner near the stables, where nobody could see her cry. She sniffed and listened. Somebody was singing. It was very faint, from inside a room somewhere, but it was a lovely, well spoken woman's voice, and a sweet, simple song. A lullabye of sorts.

'O sleep my babe, my lamb, my dove,

And wrap thyself in my warm love...'

It wasn't an Earth song, she knew that for sure. But she had the vaguest memory of it, although she couldn't remember how. She stood, and tried to follow the singing voice.

'Sleep, child, while I watch over thee,

But trouble not with dreams of me.'

Sheila frowned slightly at the recollection. It was almost as if she had dreamed the song herself. It was even the same voice that sang to her now. It had to be a Realmic song, for a little one, although she couldn't remember ever knowing it during her childhood adventures.

'O sleep while all the suns are spent,

Sleep well, my little innocent,'

She pressed herself against a wall, listening. It was coming from in there! It was coming from the stables.

'But let thy happy dreams be free

From those as dark and damned as me.'

With one hand resting on the knife at her belt, she stepped silently through the stable door. The stable was completely dark. There was nothing to be seen but mounds of hay and the forms of slumbering horses.

'Hello?'

The singing voice stopped, suddenly. Sheila knew what the sound of a human trying to escape undetected sounded like, and there was no such sound in the stables now, just the rustling of the horses in their hay.

'Who's in there?'

There was no reply. Sheila swallowed, and took a few more steps forward.

'I know there's somebody in here,' she said, as calmly as she could, 'I'm not gonna hurt you. It's just... that song. Where did you learn that song?'

Still, there was no reply. In the gloom, Sheila could make out an odd shape at the back of the stable. It was nestled in hay, but it was of the wrong dimensions to be equine. It shifted a little. Sheila took another step forward. It was definitely human.

'I know you're there. It's OK. There's no need to hide.'

She noted the shining ivory coat of a dozing unicorn next to the mound of hay, and relaxed a little. If Uni was happy enough to sleep while this stranger was in the stables, she had to be safe.

'Hey...' Sheila leaned down to the nest of hay and reached out a hand. 'Hey.'

Her hand touched a well built, male arm. She jumped back, biting down a shriek as Bobby sat up, suddenly, from where he had been sleeping.

He blinked, blearily, into the moonlit stable.

'Sis?'

'What are you doing here?' they demanded in unison.

Sheila answered first, in a hoarse whisper. 'There was a woman in here. Singing. Didn't you hear it? Did you see her?'

Bobby wrinkled his nose. 'Have you got Cabin Fever or somethin'? There's nobody in here but us horses.'

'I heard her.'

'Well I didn't. And if there was a stranger in here, believe me, the animals would'a known about it.'

Sheila tutted, sitting down next to her brother.

'What were you doing in here, anyway?'

Bobby shrugged. 'Wanted to say Goodnight to Uni. I must'a fallen asleep.' He brushed his sister's fringe away from her face, watching her tear puffed eyes. 'You and Hank have another fight?'

Sheila turned away from Bobby slightly, folding her arms.

'We don't fight. We just... we just...'

Bobby got to his feet, grimly.

'Where is he?'

'What are you gonna do?'

'Talk to the poor bastard.' He met his sister's worried expression with a small, kind smile. 'He sat up with me all night when me and Terri broke up, you know. Who does he have to take his troubles to?'

'...me...?' attempted Sheila.

'And if you are the trouble?'

Sheila grinned. 'I'm not Trouble, am I?'

'You betcha.' Bobby ruffled his sister's hair slightly, and began to walk out of the stable.

'Whaddaya suppose,' he added over his shoulder, 'they keep all these horses for anyway? It's not like they can swim.'

Sheila toyed gently with Uni's mane. 'You know us girls,' she smiled, 'we always keep everything, just in case it turns out to be useful again.'

The Barbarian shook his head as he took a turn out of the stable door.

'Women.'

-x-

Bobby opened the door to the dormitory gingerly. None of the four beds were occupied. There was a dark green shape slumped at the foot of one of the beds, staring into space. Bobby cleared his throat, and the shape looked up slightly.

'Women, huh?'

Hank sighed.

'Wanna talk about it?'

'You don't want to hear about it, Bob.' his voice was barely audible.

'What, because it's my sister?' Bobby sat on the corner of a bed. 'Hey. I know how bad females can screw with a guy's head, family or no family...'

'You're sixteen years old...'

'Had more girlfriends than you have, Buster.'

Hank looked up at the wide, mischievous Bobby Grin, opened his mouth, then closed it, wordlessly again.

'Well,' goaded Bobby, 'if you don't wanna talk about Mush, what about Guy Stuff?'

Hank still didn't respond.

'Football? Baseball?' The young Barbarian continued to watch Hank for a glimmer of reaction. 'Hitting things? Eating raw meat?'

Hank snorted a small laugh.

'No raw meat,' he grunted. 'Men hunt Mammoth. Bring to cave. Women cook.'

'Ug,' replied Bobby cheerfully, 'we men.'

'Thanks, Bob.' Hank managed a weak smile. 'Thanks for making the effort.'

'Like I said before, Hank. What you're going through right now, I've been there. And I know it sucks.' Bobby met Hank's sad smile. 'So if you ever need anybody to talk to... and it doesn't matter that Sheila's my sister, because... because you're my family too, Hank.'

Hank's face fell again, and he looked away, miserably.

'And it's a good job for you, too,' the Barbarian continued unabated, 'because I don't think I'd let anybody else in the world get away with making my sister cry as much as you have.'

'I'm sorry about that, Bob.'

'Yeah, well, what're ya gonna do?' sighed Bobby. 'She's Sheila. She cries. It's kinda her Thing.'

They sat in silence for a moment. There was a faint splash in the distance. Hank looked up, curiously.

'D'you hear that?'

Bobby stretched out on the bed, resting his helmet next to him. 'Hear what?'

Hank frowned. His sense of hearing had seriously sharpened since he'd been back in the Realm. It was almost as good as it had been the first time round as the Ranger. But still. That wasn't right. His ears must be playing tricks on him.

'It sounded like a huge cake being thrown overboard.'

-x-

Janapurna had gone. Presto lay back, and tried to watch the stars, but there was something wrong with the sky that night. Some malice was out there, hiding. There always was some malice out there, hiding from him. Still so much unseen, so much unknown. And that vast expanse of dark, empty sky only served to make him feel all the smaller. He had found it comforting, once upon a time, to gaze up at the heavens, or out upon a great expanse of wilderness, and be reminded of how tiny he was in the grand scheme of things. But now he was no longer a bit player, no longer a minor cog in a big machine. He was supposed to be big. He was supposed to be powerful. He was supposed to know.

He wondered about the spirits of the dead. Perhaps those distant specks of silver in the sky harboured the souls of those he had laid to rest. Perhaps they were watching him now, despairing at his lack of progress. Perhaps Whitewood himself was up there, wishing he had chosen a different heir. Presto sighed, and turned onto his side, curling up foetally on himself. There was a gap in the ornately carved wall of the ramparts, and Presto could see the dark horizon of the sea beyond. The reflections of the stars on the water were faint, shifting and twisted, here one moment, then gone the next as the sea's surface stirred and the mirror smashed, swirled and reformed again.

Where were they going? What were they doing there? How could they fight their foes from the middle of the ocean? He had no idea. He had just blindly followed Janapurna. Again. He was supposed to be guiding them, but all he ever did was follow girls. Girls that he had no future with. That was the truth. That was The Truth.

He took off his glasses. His surroundings blurred pleasantly. He could be anywhere. He could be nowhere. The Truth was trying to tempt him again. But he didn't want it. He wasn't going to look inside. It was too dangerous.

But it would have knowledge. It would have all the knowledge that he needed.

But it wouldn't show it to him. It would only show him knowledge that would hurt him.

But he was the Dungeon Master. He could...

'Shut up'.

Sleepiness began to weigh heavily on him. He wondered whether he would ever outgrow mortal urges for sleep, and food, and... other things. He imagined that he probably would, some day. It made him strangely sad. But for now, he needed a rest.

He needed a holiday. They all did. Maybe they could stay for a week or two.

He supposed that the women of the White Palace would probably thank them for being around to help them protect The Truth. And there was no need to let the others know that it was even so much as on board. Why bother telling them it existed at all?

Him and his little secrets... if the others ever knew how many secrets he was keeping from them...

His thoughts trailed away as he sank into sleep, until he was left with only a faint mantra, one which had been repeating over and over in his head since he had spoken with Janapurna -

'Fire consumes wood. Wood floats on water. Water douses fire.

Water douses fire. Water douses fire. Water douses fire.'

Barely noticed by a soul aboard it, the palace slipped out into the sea.

The writhing bodies in the depths of the ocean increased their pace.

-x-

Newly clean, Diana wrapped the large bathrobe around herself and stood on the balcony to her room, watching the sea and the stars. She toyed with her necklace a little, then took it off and placed it gently over a small statue. She didn't intend to go flying tonight. The faint sound of the shower stopped, and she was briefly bathed in the light of the bathroom as the door behind her was opened. She blinked, slowly, faintly smiling, not turning her back from him as he approached. He didn't put his arms around her, but leaned on the balcony by her side, watching the dark water.

'I must go down to the sea again,

To the lonely sea and the sky.

I left my vest and socks there -

I wonder if they're dry.'

She turned her head to grin at him. He smiled back, his hair still wet and spiked, tiny pearls of water still bejewelling his torso. There was a towel around his waist, but he hadn't bothered with his shoulders. In the dim light she could see the outer feathers of his pretty wing over his shoulder and ribs. They seemed slightly fainter than before.

'Thanks for the use of the shower,' he added, 'although I don't think it's really fair that you girls get your own ensuite king sized bedrooms while the rest of us have to sleep in a dorm.'

'That's favouritism, I guess,' she teased.

There was a pause.

'I should go,' sighed Eric, eventually.

Diana remained poker faced, but gazed out to sea again. 'If that's what you want.'

'Deeds, what I want is...' Eric stalled, and started again. 'What happened tonight, was... was wonderful...'

'But...' prompted Diana.

Eric shrugged frustratedly. 'But I don't know what the Hell it was. I mean, I know what it was, it was sex inside a giant cake. But... what does it mean? Was it Getting Back Together Sex? Or One More For The Road? Or is this gonna end up happening every time we fight, and we just have to try to ignore it?'

Diana glanced at him. 'That wasn't the last time. We both know that. And I don't really think it's something we can ignore.'

'So what's going on?'

'I don't know.' She sighed, looking away into the black horizon once more. 'I've never been in this situation with somebody that I care about so much before.'

He leaned across, catching a loose strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear.

'Can we start over?'

Diana found herself beaming. 'You think?'

'I'll do you a deal. No more "L" Word, no more "K" Word. Can you live with that?'

Diana nodded, still watching the water.

There was a long pause. His hand traced along her arm, found her hand, and held it.

'La Mer,' murmured Diana, 'L'amour.'

'Que?'

'The French words for "sea" and "love". "La Mer", "L'amour". Funny how they almost sound the same.'

'Not exactly Laugh Out Loud Funny, Deeds.'

'I know, I know. It's just...'

'La Mer,' interrupted Eric, singing, 'Je comprends pas...'

She met his sly smile as he began to lead her by the hand away from the balcony, into the bedroom.

'That's not the words...'

'La Mer, floopy loo-wah...'

'That's not even French!'

'Je suis un garcon et j'habite… En l'Amerique, Je m'appelle Ereek.'

He collapsed onto the bed, pulling her down with him.

'The bed?' Diana pulled a face. 'That's not like you.'

'I've never had sex in a bed before.' He opened her bathrobe. 'Tell me, what is this "Missionary Position" of which I hear tell...?'

They laughed, and their laughter was lost in kisses.

-x-

The night wore on, and, slowly, the Palace began to fall asleep. People left the courtyards for their chambers, lights were put out. The Vault Guards changed shifts, tiptoeing quietly through the Inner Sanctum so as not to wake the sleeping Priestesses.

There was no sound but the soft splashing of the tranquil midnight sea upon the ivory walls of the Castle. There was no sound as the hoarde of bodies closing in on the Palace changed their frantic writhing to a slow, silent slip through the last mile of water.

On the ramparts, a young man in Wizard's robes gasped harshly through a nightmare.

In the stables, a Unicorn huffed nervously in broken sleep.

In the High Priestess' chamber, an Unpronounceable started awake and, gently releasing the young woman's hand holding hers, swam fretfully to gaze out of the window, whining faintly.

There was no sound as slim, translucent hands took hold of the walls and began to climb, nor was there one as the many pairs of dainty feet stepped wetly onto a little used corner of the courtyard.

The whole of Presto's nightmare was submerged under water. The Realm and everything in it floated and swirled in front of his brain like so much flotsam and jetsam. The stars slid wetly into the black sea. Light mingled in with dark, pure was polluted with evil. Everything was in flux. Everything was liquid.

'Water douses fire. Water douses fire. Water douses fire.'

'But the water has its dangers too.' His own voice tumbled through the whirlpool. 'Everything has its wicked side.'

'But water douses fire.'

'Ships can set alight,' Presto managed, 'buildings can burn in rainstorms. Sometimes if the fire is powerful enough it can survive.'

'But water douses...'

He managed to find a face in the water. So there she was!

'What are you doing in my dreams, Varla?'

Varla looked up, from the bottom of a deep pit, the ocean above her streaming from her eyes.

'I've been crying,' she explained, flatly.

'I knew a girl who thought she could weep an ocean,' replied his voice. 'I sent her away. She was sick so I sent her away.'

The water rippled and shifted, stretching and changing the Illusionist's features. For a moment her hair lightened, and her eyes darkened, and she was that poor little English girl.

'I could cry,' said Alice, 'for a thousand years.'

The water moved again, causing her long hair to turn to a dark chestnut colour, and her face to become plump and honey coloured, then became thin and pale once more, her reddening hair growing short and tiny brown freckles dancing beneath Sheila's tear stained green eyes.

'Varla, stop it.'

She was Varla again.

'I'm going to, Presto. I can't do this any more. I'm tired, Presto. I'm so tired.'

'Varla...?'

The water grew more restless, and the image of Varla became a fractured mess.

'She wants to use you against each other, Presto. She's found people... people who can hurt you. I'm one of them.'

'Varla...'

'She wants to use me again.'

The fragments of Varla began to fade.

'If you say no...' Presto's own voice was growing dim. 'Your people...'

'There's only one way out, Presto.'

He awoke, suddenly. The night was bright, and silent. It was wrong. It was all wrong. He stood, putting his glasses on and gazing wildly about himself. The malice was still there, in the stars, but it had spread now. It was in the water around him. It was in the Palace itself, and the walls were thrumming with distress. And something else was coming in, too. Coming in from above, fast and powerful and greedy. He frowned, taking a step towards the stairs down to the courtyard, and the gates to the Inner Sanctum. Something on the battlements caught his eye, far off in the distance, and he stopped in his tracks.

'You're still here,' he breathed.

The distant figure disappeared. He turned on his heels, and began to run after it.

-x-

Diana was awake. She sighed, got out of bed, padded over to her bathroom, poured out a small glass of water and walked back, opening up the door to her balcony as she did. The cool night breeze caused Eric to mutter an indecipherable complaint through his sleep and pull the sheets up over himself a little higher. She wandered back and sat on her side of the bed, watching him. She had always liked him best when he was asleep. Years ago, she had claimed that that was the only time she could bear his company. As familiar as she was to his sleeping form, she felt that night as though she was looking at it for the first time. He was stretched out on his side, turned towards the middle of the bed, facing her. His mouth had fallen slightly open. She could see his teeth. His long, closed eyelashes formed two small ebony crescents against his white cheeks. One hand lay, palm up and open, on the pillow next to his face. She lay by his side, facing him, and placed her hand in his. Automatically, his hand closed gently around hers. She watched him sigh contentedly at her touch.

Odd.

There were those three words again. They'd been playing around her head all evening. Little moments, as she'd looked at him... but they weren't true... were they?

Of course she loved him. You spend month after month with someone in a tight knit group like that, surviving, eating, sleeping, fighting together, they become Family. More than Family. But how was that supposed to turn into Love? Love, like her and K.. and the "K" word.

But Sheila had done it, although Diana couldn't remember a time when Sheila hadn't been in love with Hank. For all the good it did her.

And then of course there was Eric himself. Eric, who was so certain that he was in love with her. She wondered how he, cynic of all cynics, could be so sure about love.

Still...

She gently brushed her fingertips across his fringe. He smacked his lips and smiled a little.

It was odd.

It wasn't as if she didn't love him. It wasn't as if she was ever going to see... Him... again. She had been so young when she'd met Him, and prone to sudden, intense feelings of desire. Perhaps she was looking back at a brief, adolescent infatuation with rose tinted glasses. Perhaps...

'Diana.'

She sat bolt upright in the bed, staring out of the door to the empty balcony, trying to follow the disembodied voice that had spoken her name.

'Hello?' she whispered. 'Who is it?'

'You know who I am.' The reply drifted through her, not heard so much as felt. It was right. She did know who it was. She got to her feet. It was coming from outside. She didn't dare say his name, although it pounded through her mind over and over again.

Kosar! Kosar! Kosar! Kosar!

'Yes, my love. It is me.'

'Where are you?' she breathed.

'Not far now,' came the reply. 'Diana, I've searched for so long...'

The old tears began to rise up in her eyes.

'You... you didn't abandon me...?'

'No, love. Not for a heartbeat.'

Silently, she staggered to the balcony.

'Did you get the necklace?' the voice continued.

She nodded, smiling softly through the tears.

'I knew it was from you.'

'Put it on,' he murmured. 'Put it on. It will help you to find me. Come back to me. Please, my Diana.'

She paused, her hand hovering over the beads. 'But my friends...'

'They all knew that you would come to me if you ever could,' the voice chided gently, 'they all knew that you would not let anything come in the way of our love a second time. They will get by without you suffering at their sides. You can help them in other ways.'

She picked up the beads, and turned back to the bedroom. Eric was still sleeping.

Yes. Sleeping - peaceful and comfortable and content, like a child. That was a good image to keep. That was how she would remember him.

'Bye, Sylvester,' she whispered. 'Bye, guys.'

She slipped the beads on over her head, and there it was. The way to find him, like an all encompassing homing beacon, like a skymap scorched into her brain. She didn't look back again. She didn't even realise she had turned into a swan until she had leaped from the balcony.