Episode 13: Homing Device – Or, a Reasonable Explanation for a Disease Cluster

Carmen had known from the very beginning that this party was going to leave her a bucket of stress. She had a meticulously choreographed list of things she needed to do and the exact times she needed to do them, and she still had absolutely no idea how she was going to get it done. She was counting down the minutes until her father left the house to go to a last-minute signing he hadn't been able to reschedule. She might be able to actually concentrate once he wasn't scrutinizing her work from a distance whilst doing a bad job trying to seem like he wasn't.

Eventually, once she had twined ribbon around all the banisters and reworked the damn seating arrangement, he approached like he hadn't been planning on doing it all along. He peered around as he moseyed up, adjusting his lapels. "The arrangements look...good," he said, but she could hear the hesitation in his voice.

Her stomach was a pit.

He lowered his gaze to her, and he gently grasped her shoulders, giving them a short squeeze. "I will be back in time for the arrivals. I trust you have this all under control."

She lowered her chin. Do you, though?

He gave her a short nod and kissed her cheek before heading for the car. She sighed. Finally, the house was empty.

It was a melancholy feeling watching things come together as she completed her tasks. The business of a house much too large for her made the party's assembly feel isolating, even though she knew in a short while her home would be brimming with people.

As time grew close, the caterer called, and then the florist, who both hurried to the property. The tables were lush with plant-life by the time the other girls showed up, climbing out of Rory's mom's Subaru Legacy looking slightly cramped. It was heartening to see them.

The girls looked great—she was excited about the dresses before, but with her teammates having donned various levels of makeup to coordinate (Narma at the higher end as usual and Mallory at the other end, nearly bare-faced,) they really pulled together some Looks, if she was using that correctly.

"Oooh this is going to be so fancy," Rory chirped, eyes practically sparkling framed in bright yellow shadow.

Narma eyed her. Carmen hadn't seen her dress before, but it looked more like some of the other sketches of Narma's work that Carmen had seen: long sleeves, and a high collar, with layers overlapping at the chest. Oh, that was the...sari style, right? She wasn't 100% sure she was right about that, but either way the violet color that lightened to periwinkle blue at the bottom layers of the dress really looked good with her hair. She also seemed to have softened her usually dark makeup for the evening. She'd really gone all out. Actually, they all looked so good this might have been a good opportunity for Narma to get her name out, knowing so many of her dad's wealthy clients were coming. Maybe this was going to be a networking event after all.

Ugh, yikes, she was thinking like her father. It was for Narma's benefit, though, so it didn't count, dammit!

"Hey," she called out, sighing. "We're getting close to time. There's just a couple things I have to cover." She backtracked through her words, then amended, "Sorry, hi."

Mallory had apparently opted for the leather jacket after all. Carmen wasn't sure her father was going to go for that, dress-code wise—she might have to ask her to take it off. The most shocking thing was the smear of bronze over her eyelids—she was really the most feminine Carmen had ever seen her. She looked good, but strange. She crossed her arms though, and the way she held herself was pure concentrated Mallory. "Hi to you too. Guess we know where your mind's at. Don't worry; it looks great already. It's extravagant as hell in here."

Carmen grimaced. "Yeah, well, the fancy parties are really just excuses for my dad to brag, so, enough is never enough," she swung her arm demonstratively. And make business connections, she guessed, but then why does it always seem like the same thirty people showed up?

Mallory wiped her palms together. "Well then let's kick this party's ass, then," she said, one of the passing caterers giving her a scandalized look.

They plated the hor d'oeuvres in the grand foyer in record time, Mallory snapping instructions at the harried caterer that had the poor girl saluting for lack of any sense for what to do otherwise. They laid out the silverware with the seating, Narma and Rory laughing over some of the guest's names that were scheduled to show up. "Please," Narma choked, doubled over, "please tell me this guy's name isn't actually Randall Mangina."

"Randy," Rory suddenly gasped, and Narma wheezed.

Carmen smiled uneasily. "Please don't mention it, Randall is pretty self-conscious about it." Oh, this was definitely a mistake.

Even so, with only about a half hour to go, Carmen declared preparations finished and now only the anxiety of waiting for their guests to arrive remained. "I'm going to go get changed." She dabbed sweat from her forehead—ugh, she was going to need to freshen up before anything. "I'll be back soon."

Rory was practically bouncing in her heels. "Ooh, you should let us do your makeup. Let us know when you're ready!"


Soon enough, Carmen's father had returned and the guests began to arrive. This party was fancy as heck, but Rory couldn't help but feel a little awkward lingering around the punch bowl while Carmen got relegated to introductions. She seemed to be handling it pretty well, shaking everyone's hands as they came in the frankly ridiculously large door, but Rory could see it was fake. It was in the tightness of Carmen's smile, the stiff posture she held herself at; nothing like the loose, soft smiles she gave when they were all just joking around.

Girl had warned them about this, though, so they were just going to have to wait for now.

What Rory hadn't expected was the music. Pretty soon, there was an old, floaty sort of melody making its way through the room, and she wandered as some of the stodgy old businesspeople in suits started to dance with their plus-ones. Man, she was expecting it to be way more stuck up then this! She sidled up to Narma, whispering behind her hand, "I didn't know there was gonna' be dancing!" Dang, she really would have worn better shoes than this.

"There normally isn't," and she turned to see a weary looking Carmen approaching the group. She exhaled deeply, free from the clutches of pleasantries apparently. She visibly slumped as she came to stand beside them. "I convinced my father that having a more casual atmosphere might make the event more memorable and give the guests a relaxed environment where they might be more open to making connections." She sighed, brushing her hair from her eyes. "Really, I just thought it might make it less boring."

Narma gave a deep ha and Mallory nodded. "Playing the system. I have to appreciate that sort of cunning."

"Dancing does sound fun, though," Rory nodded. When was the last time she'd been to a dance? I mean, sure, there had been homecoming last year but that had consisted of terrible "under the sea" theming while everybody around was being nasty. Not her cup of tea.

But this seemed like kind of a big deal. It was almost like a ball! She remembered her mama getting her some little princess dresses when she was real little, so she had kind of always wanted to go to one? But who had balls nowadays?

Carmen, apparently.

"This is the best idea," Rory whispered, clenching her fists.

Carmen blushed. "Oh, well, I'm glad you like it." Her eyes softened. "Sorry, I know this sort of thing would have been more fun if you were able to invite plus ones, but Dad was reluctant to let me invite you guys as it is."

Rory blinked. "No, no, it's cool!" Really, the only one who would have benefited from that probably would have been Narma, and with the way she had been rocky with Manuel...yeesh, maybe not the best idea. Turning, she saw a small frown on Narma's face; the same thing had probably just occurred to her. Not to be discouraged, Rory grabbed her arm, tugging her towards the floor. "We'll have fun all by ourselves!"

Narma blinked, before snickering. "Yeah, let's go scandalize some businessmen with female independence." Her eyes moved to the floor for a second, before widening slightly. Her grin devolved into a full-on smirk. "Besides, at least one of us is getting a loophole."

Rory wondered what the heck that meant for a second, before following Narma's gaze. Ohhhh.

A familiar shock of green hair had just made an appearance at the house's entrance, where attendees were still occasionally showing up to be greeted by Carmen's dad. Once she saw Sylvia, dress a sweet-looking champagne tulle a-line, it was easy to locate her sister. Gwen's dress was midnight blue, and body-con like Rory's own, except it had a little beaded neck-loop halter for the top. Also, boy was that a high slit. Was that velvet? Damn, they were getting fancy tonight! Still not as nice as Narma's dresses, but nice.

And way sexier than Rory would have expected out of Gwen, given her usual style. Not that she could blame her; Rory might have been in good shape, but Gwen was really fit. Good for her, honestly.

She turned back to the other two to see Mallory thoroughly flushed, looking stricken, and Carmen folding her arms over her chest. "Please don't drool on the dance floor," she said dryly.

Startling, Mallory shot out, "Shut up, I wasn't," but she wiped her mouth anyway.

"I'm gonna' go dance," Rory snorted. "You guys should join us! Let loose a little bit." No time like the present, anyways.


Carmen brushed her hair back, peering around at the room of her guests. Things seemed to be going well enough. The plan with the music was working better than she'd thought, especially—sure, it made things more fun, as she'd always been a fan of dancing, but requesting that all of the attendees bring a plus one seemed to be discouraging the usual clientele from hitting on her or her friends. That had been a real concern, and not really something she necessarily wanted to explain to the others. Still, it would have been impossible for the girls to go entirely unnoticed. Even as she watched, one son-of-a-businessman was twirling Sylvia around the floor, striking up conversation.

"Shame I can't get a look at those pretty blue eyes," he said.

"Nope," Sylvia just responded cheerfully, and apparently the guy hadn't been expecting that answer because his smile turned uncomfortable and, not knowing what else to do, he awkwardly just kind of...kept dancing.

Rory and Narma were playfully waltzing around one another, saying "After you," "No, after you," As some of the guests around them looked on in bewilderment.

Carmen sighed. Maybe these guys would be fine after all.

"Excuse me," said a voice from behind her. "I was hoping I might have a dance."

She turned to see Raquel, the son of one of her father's more influential friends, holding out a hand. This wasn't the first time he had approached her and she was sure it wouldn't be the last.

Ah, well. She had known she couldn't avoid them all. Besides, Raquel was nice enough. She just...wasn't interested. "Nice to see you," she sighed before taking his hand. Without further ado he stepped back and led her into a lazy spin, their steps moving stiffly back and forth in a dispassionate sway.

"It's a lovely room."

She turned to glance up at him as he spoke.

"You're the host tonight, aren't you?"

"If it pleases my father, I suppose." She didn't hold his eyes for long, before catching her tone. "And thank you," she amended.

He wrinkled his brow, offering a skeptical smile. "You don't seem very excited about it."

She hummed, assenting.

She peered around to the other patrons she had invited. She spied Mr. Abernathy, staring lovingly at his rosy-cheeked wife as they made sweeping turns through the foyer. Nearer by, she spotted Gwen and Mallory indulging some of her repeat suitors in a dance—it was impossible to miss, though, the way they snuck magnetic glances at one another, never catching, but looking away just as fast with notable pining on their faces. It was so obvious.

She had never felt something obvious. She'd never had a crush she could recall, and she was jealous of them. Stupid, knowing there was a reason that they couldn't dance together, different from the playful way that Rory and Narma made a spectacle in the middle of the room. Jealous of them for knowing.

Carmen's eyes burned, and she blinked, restraining them. Was she just frigid? Here, she had a young man she was fairly certain was interested in her, a little pit of loneliness within her, and still she was utterly disinterested. What was wrong with her? Did his feelings not matter? Was there just no one good enough for her? Maybe she was stuck up.

She wanted to smack herself; her hand flexed on Raquel's shoulder at the impulse, and he made an inquiring noise. Stop it, Carmen, she hissed internally. You're not doing this again! People are getting shot and starving and living horrors; you're not going to complain about this!

A sudden rumble moved through the room. For a second, Carmen thought she might have made it up that she was picking up on the music through vibrations on the floor (this happened at the skating rink all the time.) But she and Raquel stopped spinning, she realized that many other guests had stopped as well, staring towards the entrance leading onto the back patio where the shaking seemed to be radiating from.

"Another earthquake!" One man shouted, and he and his partner ducked under a table. Alarmed, the others scrambled to the edges of the room as the chandelier shook.

Carmen spun, locating her father and the other girls, unsure where to go. There seem to be no clear rhyme or reason to the directions people fled, except that they seemed scared. Raquel held onto her hands, thick brows furrowed. But...something seemed odd. As she listened, the shaking she felt seemed to come in short bursts. Not a regular earthquake, but a noise as though something was pounding on the ground from far away. Her lip tugged into a frown, suddenly very aware of all the movement around her, where the windows were, where little boxes of dusk were peeking from outside.

Around the time her eyes widened, hand flying to her side where she did not have any pockets, damn, some of the guests on the far side of the room collapsed. Her father shouted, asking what was wrong, but his voice was simultaneously drowned as a horrifying groan rolled through the house.

Someone in the room, she heard Mallory's distinct hiss of "Oh, shi—"

It burst through the back wall.

Carmen shielded her eyes as glass flew in all directions like light off a disco ball. There were screams, and she dropped on one knee to the floor, feeling a notable tug as well towards the floor. Some stayed down, though. Some, near the door, did not make a sound at all.

Squinting, she saw that it had not taken the entire wall, but the door was just complete gone. It was clearly some kin to the "cryptids" they had run into before, a sloppy mass that could have played the lead in The Blob That Ate Everything, except it was covered in familiar spikes. She grit her teeth. This fleshy abomination looked like the creature that Mallory had called the miasma...but she never mentioned spikes.

Apparently, whatever (no, Mallory's theory, whoever) was unleashing these things had managed to salvage some parts from the other monsters in their collection.

The reality of the situation hit her—she didn't have her scepter. There wasn't time to analyze. She needed to move!

Just as she recalled where she had left it—in her bedroom, at the vanity where they have been getting made up for the night—she felt a hand close over her shoulder and looked up to see her father's rumpled face. "We have to get you somewhere safe," he grumbled, button eyes scanning the room as sweat beaded on his brow.

He steered them towards the front door, standing open where several of the guests who had been farthest away had fled, but she screamed and flinched as white spikes burst out from the wall. She looked over to her father, who looked lost, but unharmed. That could have skewered them—could the creature summon that attack anywhere? Either way, there was no leaving, it seemed.

Even worse, as the creature squirmed into the room, she could feel the strength sapping from her legs. She had to figure out a way to get them out of there.

Her father whipped them around, moving them towards the interior of the house. She could see the same force was working on him as his old legs dragged the floor. "You and your friends need to hide," he whispered as the bellows of the creature washed over them. She scanned the room as she was ushered towards the back hallway: Rory and Narma were nearby, Gwen and Sylvia were blocked off by the railing and as they passed, and her father grabbed Gwen by the arm and she yelped as they were dragged up. Mallory...there, on the upper stair; what was she doing there? She seemed blocked off, the line of spikes that blocked their exit at the front door falling in line to cut off the staircase.

Before she realized what was happening, her father had thrown open the coat closet in the middle of the hall and had thrown them inside, outside the sight of the monster. At least the energy drain wasn't as bad here. "You stay inside," he grumbled, leathery face lined with worry as she and the girls stared at each other. "I'll be back."

He shut the door.

The three of them sat in darkness. "We have to get back out there," Carmen said immediately, barely able to make out the other two girls in the dark.

"That thing looks like the monster Mallory and I fought the other day," Gwen whispered, teeth a barely visible grimace of white inside the closet. "She's in no condition to fight."

"She might try," Sylvia said evenly. "She seems pretty stubborn."

"She can't afford to." Carmen frowned, cursing again that she had left her scepter in her room—ugh, she knew better than this! "Can either of you transform?"

Gwen patted the space where her chest was covered. From inside, she pulled out the Fortuna scepter. Well, that is one way, I suppose.

Sylvia removed hers from a band around her leg.

Okay, so one positive.

They froze as the room was temporarily flooded with light. There was a yelp and two more forms crashed down on top of them. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, she was able to make out Rory and Narma in a heap before them.

There was a tell-tale click from the door.

Locking.

Carmen wanted to scream. Ugh, great.

"Welcome," Sylvia said without a hint of sarcasm.

"Why are we in the closet?" Rory groaned, rubbing her elbow before sharply pointing at Narma. "Don't."

Narma closed her mouth, looking disappointed.

Carmen sighed, irritation ticking her brow. "Apparently, my father thinks this is the safest place to sequester us away."

Gwen spoke up, eyes widening. "Wait, he's not going to try to go after Mallory, is he?"

Carmen bit her lip. "I don't know." She indicated the sisters. "They have their scepters. Do either of you?"

Narma groaned, throwing her hand over her face. "Dammit, I knew I was forgetting something!" She limply pulled out a little opening in her dress. "I built a pocket and everything."

Carmen raised her hands. "What are we going to do, then? We can't break the door down without drawing a ton of attention to ourselves."

Narma added, "And if these guys go out there without backup, they're going to get murderized."

Gwen kneaded the bridge of her nose. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

Carmen punched a fist into her palm. "We have to get out there. My father is too stubborn—he's just going to keep putting himself in harm's way." She tried to breathe where her chest was getting a bit tight. This was her family, her home. She wasn't used to this getting so personal. "—not to mention all the people who are unconscious."

"Yeah, that thing shooting spikes all over the place is a bad scene." Then, with a burst of energy, Rory shot straight. "Oh my gosh, hold on, I have an idea!"

Carmen followed her line of sight to the vent near the ceiling of the closet.

Moving over, Rory bounced on her heels in front of the grate. "Somebody give me a boost!"

Gwen made the noble sacrifice of having Rory's generously unheeled feet perch on her shoulders as Rory reached up to unlatch the grate from the vent where the air filter sat inside. Removing it, Rory rose a few inches to be properly inline as Gwen grunted, lifting her up. Cupping her hands around her mouth, Rory leaned forward, whisper-shouting into the open vent, "Celene!"

Gwen hissed, "Wait, you brought the cat?"

"Of course I brought Celene," Rory scoffed. "What kind of party do you think this is?" Leaning forward, she projected again, voice echoing along the metallic corridor of the vent's interior. "Celene!"


Sincerely, her charge had to have made some of the most reckless choices she had ever undertaken in the span of the last few months. Perhaps that was Celene's own fault—not insisting to keep a closer step, choosing to naively believe that a girl of such gumption as Aurora was simply taking evening strolls every night. Still, the disregard the soldier had shown for her own life left Celene with a combination of worry and anger such that she had hardly been able to speak a word to the girl. Even now here she was, sitting out this party at another moment she should have been doing her duty as Aurora's guardian and watching over her. It wasn't as though she didn't want her to have fun. She just...wished she would have been able to be there to make sure.

She was napping on Carmen's bed when the muffled shouting reached her. She snapped rigid for a second, unsure she had not made the noise up, before she heard it repeat itself.

Aurora? She would recognize her voice anywhere, and the subtle hiss made her think she was probably trying to keep herself unheard. She frowned. If she was calling her—things weren't great between them right now; it had to be important! She tried to ignore the little rush that peeked in her mind at the idea that she might be helpful.

Celene stood. The room door was cracked, but she might have sworn the call had come from elsewhere. She kept listening, ears twitching in concentration as she tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. After a few more seconds, she identified the source of the noise as the vent near the bedroom's ceiling. What on earth? Leaping up a series of shelves along Carmen's headboard, letting her close to the opening. With a determined flick from the end of her tail, the two little latches were easily disbursed, "Aurora?" She called back. "What is it? What's happening?" From somewhere that seemed far away, she could hear a rattle of commotion. It was only a moment or so before Aurora's voice came back to her.

"Celene! Thank goodness. One of those Cryptid things showed up and now we're locked in the closet."

"...I'll be honest, I'm not quite following that sequence of events, but what can I do to help?"

Aurora's voice reverberated in the ventilation. "A lot of our scepters are in that room." She opened her mouth, but the instinctual admonishment that bubbled up was cut off before it began. "I know, I know! Do you think you could bring them?"

Celene's nose twitched. She sighed. "I can certainly try." She turned to the room, then back. "Are all of you in there?"

"Mallory's trapped on the stairs, as far as we know," Aurora called back. We can't see anything. She might have hers, actually, knowing her, but she can't fight right now."

Celene called back, "Alright, hold on."

Turning back to the room, her eyes went to the pile of bags and belongings left on the bed. After a moment or two of weeding through them, she found Aurora's, but not the others. Popping into the vent, she padded along, using her instinctual awareness of Aurora's position (for as much good as that had done her in the past) to weave through the vents to her position. She peeked her head into the closet, and in the darkness she made out the figures of her charges crammed inside. Aurora jumped back up when she arrived. "Celene!"

"This seems a tad ridiculous," she sniffed as she dropped Aurora's scepter to the floor. "I couldn't find Narma's or Carmen's though." She eyed the members she had only once spoken to before. So, was she to assume they'd had theirs? Embarrassing. "Hello to you two."

"Hello, kitty." Sylvia greeted primly, gaze wayward.

"It's Celene."

Carmen's piped up, "The vanity! In the side room. I think I left it there.."

Narma groaned. "I bet mine is there too. It must still be sitting on the counter."

Celene nodded sharply. "Understood."

Celene retrieved the scepters from their spot, ferrying them back to the girls in the closet.

The girls thanked her, and Aurora turned back to the vent. "The door is locked. Can you get it open?"

Leaving the room, she exited the ventilation and padded down the hall. The room outside was a horrific scene—humans scattered about the floor, a massive...thing shifting around the perimeter of the room. Peering across the room, she spied Mallory on the staircase still, and there was an older human trapped in the space beside her by vicious looking spikes. Ah, she couldn't tell what sort of state he was in. Her soldiers needed to get these people to safety as quickly as possible! Turning around, she eyed the closet lock, and her stomach sunk. She swiped a paw over the slats in the door. "Girls. Can you hear me?"

"Celene," she heard Narma answer on the other side. "Can you get it?"

"No," she said grimly. "The lock's a hand-turn; I can't grasp it."

"That's okay," she heard Aurora say from a little further away. "I think I have another idea. Can you girls block the door?"

After the sound of shuffle, Celene anxiously waiting outside, a brightness flared from beneath the door.


Sailor Boreas dropped down from the vent in the bedroom. Dust flurried out behind her as she got her bearings, and she looked up to see Celene waiting for her. "Thanks, girl," she said, standing. The marmalade tabby turned away, and her stomach twisted. Apparently, girl wasn't 100% ready to forgive her yet.

"Things don't look good out there," Celene huffed. "We have to hurry."

Sailor Boreas slunk along the hall out to the closet, where she turned the little latch. She glanced back, paranoid someone would see them, but she didn't see anyone awake enough to look. Where was Carmen's dad? "Okay, guys," she whispered. "One at a time; we don't want to get this thing's attention."

She darted back around the corner and, one by one, her other teammates joined her: Sailor Egeria, then Sailor Gyges (jeez, this was going to be Sylvia's first real fight! What a way to start off!), Sailor Fortuna, and Sailor Concordia. "Decima's still AWOL," she whispered, which garnered her an odd look from Fortuna, for some reason (ah, Gwen probably wasn't used to hearing their titles, maybe. Sylvia, on the other hand, didn't bat an eye.)

"Sailor Concordia." Celene's tone was serious. "I saw your father trapped by the stairs as well. I'm... not sure if he's still conscious or not."

Carmen/Concordia nodded stiffly, jaw clenched.

After formulating a plan, they braced themselves and darted into the room, hoping to take the monster by surprise. Sailor Boreas resisted the urge to make a quippy one-liner and immediately called out, "Dire stellar gust!" Please let this work!

Behind, the others and Celene waited. They just needed to stay out of sight for now.

The wind whipped through the room, circling the perimeter and then shrinking towards the center of the room. The only reason she thought she hadn't been taken out yet was because the thing couldn't see her, the dark wind casting a filter of haze through the room. As the loop shrunk, Narma came out behind her and called for a Typhoon, striking the wind-stream as Boreas gathered it up.

The whole thing with the miasma, the way Gwen had explained it, was that it put some kind of spore in the air that sapped energy for it; it didn't have to touch you. If they could dampen the spores and send them all falling to the ground, maybe it wouldn't affect them—or at least, that was the current theory.

As the typhoon blasted downward, Rory thought she felt normal. Yes! The downside was that as the Gust faded, the monster could see her again. She heard Narma dart away just as spikes blasted up from the floor at her feet. Stumbling, she leapt up and took to the railing of the leftmost stairs. If she could keep moving, the thing couldn't pin her down.

She eyed the dozens of still forms clustered on the far side of the room. Let's just hope this thing doesn't get too happy with those spikes.

As discussed, Sailor Concordia rounded the corner next, thrusting out two fingers. "Harmonious Bellicoso!"

The lyrical attack flowed out towards the Miasma-Urchin hybrid, and just as quickly Concordia had to roll out of the way as spikes burst up around her. Boreas watched, praying for some kind of impact, but the gouges that appeared in the creature's pearlescent flesh filled themselves back in right away.

Sailor Boreas winced. Dang. They'd been hoping that one of their regular attacks was going to do something to this guy, but seeing how resistant all its siblings and previous incarnations had become to their attacks, they thought it was probably a long shot.

Across the room, she could see Mallory watching them, still in her gown. Boreas didn't know if she was just trapped or if she had gotten hurt, and not knowing just made things worse. She winced as the room rumbled behind a line of spikes, and they all relocated, trying to find a safe spot.

Man, she really hoped this wasn't going to become one of those games with squares.

As planned, Gwen moved up next. She drew her arm back from behind one of the pillars of the entry way before turning to fire. Boreas barely caught the name of the attack—"Celestial Roulette!"—before a series of projectiles shot out from Fortuna's arm as though she had fired a weapon. It impacted, between the spikes that the creature's back was covered in and wedging between them like splinters, causing eruptions inside.

"No, that's not it," she heard Gwen say. It was the last thing she'd been hoping to hear. They had a tentative plan, but with the way that the other soldier's powers worked, almost all of it was relying on chance. They didn't have that kind of time. "Alright soldiers!" Rory/Boreas called out—boy, that was weird! Had she really never called them that before? "Regroup! We have to do the extraction!"

Sailor Concordia looked at her—argh, too many people, freaking Carmen, Memory Space Brain! She nodded shortly, but Rory knew she was as appreciative as she was worried. "Thank you."

If there was any chance he hadn't been affected yet, they had to take it. Time to go get Carmen's dad.

Then everyone else.


Sylvia had never been in a battle before.

Well, no, not exactly true. She'd broken her leg in a bus when it was attacked by a giant wrecking ball, so she was going to take that as points towards battle experience. This time, though, there were monsters actively attacking her, and so she found herself a bit more personally offended.

She probably would have been fine, except for the noise. The sound that this thing made was just...grating, in the same way that people whispering too breathily or the sound of Velcro were. Like a rasp up her neck. It kind of made her want to scream, so that needed to stop immediately, if not sooner.

This thing was big, mean, and sort of resembled a spiny oak slug if it was entirely white and pissed. The spikes, though? No, no, that was just rude.

Carmen probably didn't appreciate the property damage either. What can you do.

"Okay," she called over to the others. "What do I do?" She found herself just sort of...standing there, ineffectively.

"Hold off for a sec," the girl in the blue and violet, Narma, called back to her. "We need to get Mr. R before we can do anything else."

Sylvia nodded. "Gotcha." Turning, she quickly mapped out a path to the little spiked off area that Carmen's dad and Mallory were supposedly quartered off in, and then proceeded to dart over.

Gwen apparently didn't like this, much like she didn't like a lot of things she did. Ugh. "Syl—Gyges! Watch it!" She could hear the alarm in her voice, which was just. So. Infuriating. You'd think she was walking out into traffic or something.

This was a creature. Creatures had patterns. If it could attack faster, it would be doing that!

"I'm watching," she snapped evenly as the line of spikes followed her like a trail of dominos.

You can't put a spike on a spike, so she braced on the spike's sides. There was some kind of shielding around her legs, right? At least that's what the cat said, and so she wasn't too worried about getting skewered. She caught a couple of protesting voices behind her, but she had better things to focus on.

She peered down at the cowering man in a suit, dwarfed by the massive spikes surrounding him. "Hi there," she said. "This is some party."

The man peered up between his hands. Not unconscious, at least. That was good; her quip would have fallen a bit flat if he had been. "Who—who are you? What's going on?"

"There's a big, ugly monster in your house," she said.

His bushy brows furrowed, his face reddening. "Yes, I noticed!"

She held a hand out. "We should probably leave." Oh, wait. Peering back over her shoulder, she called, "I could use a distraction here."

"Got you," Carmen called back before running to the other side of the room and starting to fire off that musical attack.

Sylvia grit her teeth; this was really a lot of discordant noise. She ground the fingers of her free hand together aggressively; she's been grateful that her uniform came with something more like bracers than actual gloves.

Still, when she heard the grinding upward crunch of spikes bursting up from the other side of the room, she knew its attention had been drawn away. The beast moaned cacophonously, and the wave of noise that passed over her made her neck violently twitch.

The man grasped her hand; his hand was sweaty, which she didn't like, but oh well. She ushered him up from between the spikes, but his frame was too wide to slip through.

"I'm stuck," he wheezed anxiously, stumbling back from his place precariously jammed between the spikes.

Hm. "This won't do," she said, mostly to herself.

Well, she had attacks, didn't she? As Sailor Gyges. She just didn't know them quite yet. Fishing into her skirt pocket, she pulled out the scepter, its pale green lacquer shining back at her. The way Gwen had described it (frightened, huddled up in her bed in their hotel room shivering because she'd seen the girl she liked get skewered, and she'd felt so helpless. Sylvia thought she'd feel satisfied the day Gwen finally got knocked from her high horse, but not like that. She hated that vacant stare, she didn't have the words or the script for that, that wasn't a Gwen expression), the attack had just come to her. That seemed like a pretty efficient training integration system; like a tutorial in a video game.

Guess she should just wing it, then!

She held the scepter out. "You'll probably want to get yourself out of the way," she told Carmen's dad and, horrified, he balled up near the floor.

"W-what are you going to do?" He asked her, eyes bulging in the periphery of her vision.

Might as well be honest. She shook out her shoulders. "I have no idea."

She was used to being overly aware of subtle sensations—the texture of a shirt, the wind blowing a little too close to her ear. But this was more like a tickle in her brain, like knowing the meaning of a word, but not being able to quite recall it.

And then she did.

The Willow Whip formed in her hand as the words left her lips, the instinctual back-swing resolving into a loop that kept the tendrils off her. Peering down at the weapon, "whip" seemed a little inaccurate: it was more like one of those many-limbed weapons, the cat-o-nine-tails, although this looked like it really could have been made from leafy willow branches. She clenched her hand around it, and it felt more like worn leather. I wasn't expecting you to be something so physical, but I'm not upset about it.

She let the tresses fall elegantly from her hand. "I have to assume this is going to do something," she told the shivering businessman, before swinging the whip back, and then forwards again.

The talons lashed forward, and like one of those sticky hands you won at arcades they wrapped firmly around the spike. On pure intuition, she yanked back and stumbled—the spike, which seemed almost stone-like, crumbled at the force. She turned her new favorite toy over in her hands. "That will work."

"Great," the man whimpered. "Now can you get me out of here?"

"Yes!" She ticked her neck to the side, cracking it. "Give me two minutes," she said lightly, "and you'll be free to fly away, to some boardroom or something. Wherever the corporate elite roam free."

Okay, Gwen was totally wrong. This was the best thing that had ever happened to them.

Except for the tingling, all under her skin. That, she didn't feel good about.

She managed to corral the man to his window whilst the creature wasn't paying attention very well. She shoved the window up, before sweeping her hands to indicate it was time for him to go.

He hesitated, then climbed through, stumbling as he landed in the nicely tailored shrubbery (what a shame!) "There you go."

He leaned back through the window, expression crumpled in the corner of her eye. "Please," he said. "My daughter, and her friends. They're locked in the closet. They cannot get hurt; I don't know what I'd do."

She frowned—well, he would be worried about Carmen, wouldn't he? He didn't know. The thought made her think of Gwen's parents, Glen and Martha. Were they worried about her and Gwen? She honestly felt a little bit bitter about having had to just up and leave. Why couldn't they have just believed them? She didn't want to abandon them. That was a terrible thing to do.

She swallowed, remembering where she was. Now was not the time.

Stiffly, she smiled back, just off-center of his face. "I'm sure they'll all be okay. Now, you may want to call an ambulance."

Turning back to the battle, she could see the others running around, and she could feel the weighted feeling falling back into her legs. Oh, come now. This was honestly a really cowardly attack, and she would have told the monster so if it wouldn't have also drawn its attention.

She heard a crumpling sound from above, and a couple of crumbs of stair-structure crumbled down beside her. Looking up, she saw a familiar face staring back.

Mallory adjusted her glasses. She was holding her leg uncomfortably, but otherwise appeared okay. "Okay," she said, "that was honestly hilarious. But I might need a little bit of help here."

Sylvia used the Willow Whip to break down the spikes keeping Mallory trapped, and the girl brushed the dust off her dress. "Thank you." She looked up, and Sylvia got the impression even without seeing her eyes that she was about to say something stubborn. Mostly, because that was Mallory's default mode. "Now, how can I help?"


Gwen could feel the spores creeping back in. The only conceivable advantage to this guy was that he didn't seem able to haul himself around the room the way that the original Miasma had been able to through the forest. Those spikes looked deadly sharp, though, so maybe the design trade-off seemed worth it.

Still, the massive gelatinous structure of the thing oozed over the fallen party goers as it moved, so slowly, to try and get closer, and every time she held her breath, thinking that there might be a repeat of the Mallory situation (And where the heck was Mallory?!) If one of them got sucked in, how on earth were they going to get them out in time?

If they weren't already...

...she didn't want to think about it.

But then it would just pass over. Apparently, it wasn't there for them. She watched it ooze off a woman in a purple dress, and her chest throbbed with anxiety. It was only Narma's bursts of torrential rain that was stopping it from advancing. No, stop getting distracted! She had to do something about the numbness in her limbs. "This thing is getting feisty again—we need a wind burst, Sailor Boreas."

"You got it," the girl called back from the upper level, where she'd moved to escaped becoming swiss cheese. Behind her, Carmen wiped sweat from her brow, the constant barrage from the music attack the only thing putting a dent in this mother.

Her pulse thumped. Only Mallory's attack had banished the Cryptid last time, and she was out of commission and who-knows-where. How were they going to get rid of this guy?

"That means you too, Sailor Egeria," Rory called, darting behind a support beam as spikes rose from the floor. Which, by the way, where were they coming from? The ceiling underneath looked undamaged.

Narma grumbled in agitation, dodging around spikes as they erupted around her.

Gwen watched her other teammates—her attack might have been ready to go again, but if there was even a slight chance of hitting the abomination, she needed a clear shot. "Any way you guys might be able to score me an opening while you're at it?"

"Eh," Narma fired back, which told her nothing. "You might have to hold on that one. Yeesh!" She yelped as a spike narrowly missed her right leg. "I'm just trying not to get punctured here."

"Hey," she suddenly heard from above.

Gwen looked up.

"What the hell are you guys doing up there?!" She called up, alarmed to see Sylvia (in uniform) and Mallory (still in her very nice dress) leering from the balcony above.

"We're here to help," said Sylvia, and she leaned on her arms, peering out over the floor like a cat on a TV center. "And I think I know how I can get you your shot."

She explained, and that had to be the stupidest plan Gwen had ever heard. "That has to be the stupidest plan I've ever heard."

Sylvia's brows furrowed, gaze astray as she stuck her tongue out. "You're just mad you didn't think of it."

Mallory watched from above as well, and the monster moved agonizingly slow through the foyer in Gwen's periphery; it could notice them at any minute. "I deal with a power-based weapon all the time," said Mallory. "You saw it. These things are solid."

Gwen bit her lip, staring up at the two with the most disapproval she could muster. "...fine. But we need to let the others know."

"That's fine with me," said Sylvia, popping up and dodging an immediate barrage of spikes as though they'd been there all along. Ugh, that girl had to stop being so reckless!

Mallory didn't move, hidden by perspective with the very spikes the beast had tried to nail her sister with. "Hey," she said again, the usual deadpan back in her voice. "You guys be careful. I'll warn you if I see anything."

She'd rather the other girl stayed out of the fray entirely, but she supposed it would have been rare thing that would have stopped her there. Even so, her heart thudded a little at the intensity of her stare. "We will," she promised, and turned to make her move.

They ran to the front of the room, where Rory and Narma were assembling to perform another mist attack. Up above, Carmen on one side and Celene, of all people, on the other were distracting the creature, peppering Carmen's upper floor with an obnoxious number of spikes. Gwen eyed them anxiously. "We have to do this quickly," she called to the others as she ran up. "Those guys are going to run out of room eventually."

"No joke," Rory whistled holding out her hands.

"Hold on," Sylvia called forward, the willow-branch looking weapon at her side rustling as she ran. "We need to be in the middle of the room when you cast that."

Rory's eyes flew open. "What? That's way too close!"

Sylvia shook her head. "No, we have to. We have a plan that might let us get a hit in on the jelly monster."

"We're not calling it that," Carmen called from above, perhaps on reflex at this point.

Rory and Narma, looking depressingly at home in their Boreas and Egeria uniforms, turned to each other. "...Okay," Rory assented. "But I can't promise you that thing's going to let us get that close."

"Oh, it will," Gwen clenched her hand at her side as Narma turned to her. "We're what it's here for."

Narma's expression was unreadable. "Okay, you need to elaborate on that later, but for now it's time to kill the spawn of slimer."

The four of them moved towards the center of the room and, just as Gwen had anticipated, the creature let them right through. Narma and Rory looked to each other incredulously, but Gwen kept her guard up. She had no idea if the absorption thing was the only other option this thing had, but she knew that this thing wanted the energy. Before they could do anything about it, they were going to have to feed it.

And it was eating, for sure. She could see the thing taking on a sort of luminescence, could feel the strength being zapped from her body. It was as though she were moving through water. It was becoming more and more difficult to stand, but they had to be here, in the center, where the light of the chandelier poured down over them.

The beast groaned. Above, Carmen and Celene made noises of confusion as the creature stopped assailing them. It turned—slowly, like the murderer turning around to be revealed in a horror movie—and it opened its maw, moaning wetly.

Gwen shuddered as spittle flecked out of its mouth, opening to reveal a series of needle-like teeth. Well, that's new. Her stomach turned. Hopefully, the feeding wasn't more literal than she had realized.

Something occurred to her, and she turned to her sister with a sense of unease. "Are you even going to be able to hold it the way we are now?"

Discouragingly, she saw hesitation in Sylvia's usually unfettered expression. "Well, it's too late to think about that now," Sylvia wavered.

Rory and Narma stumbled back as the thing slithered towards them. Promptly, a line of spikes shot up behind them. The four of them weren't going anywhere. "You guys ready?" Rory called back, grimacing as the horrifying mass crept towards them.

"Yeah," Gwen shot back, and it was like setting off a tripwire as she called, "now."

"Alright! Typhoon Strikedown!" Narma shot the water into the air and Rory called on her own Dire Gust, bursting a protective ring of air around them that banished the creature's spores. It gave a sickening bellow, distorted by the wind into something otherworldly. Gwen knelt down, giving her sister a boost up. As she rose in one swift motion, Sylvia used the momentum to push off and up, leaping towards the space above them.

She swung up her whip, and it caught with the efficiency of a grappling hook.

On the chandelier.

"You guys have to do whatever you're going to do now," Rory called back, gritting her teeth. "I can't hold this forever."

"It's fine," Gwen called back, staring up where her sister was now hanging by the whip from the chandelier. "Just a few more seconds. Keep it hazy!"

"I'll try," she responded.

Narma had taken a low spot in the eye of the storm, and her eyes shot wide when she noticed Gwen moving towards the outside. "What are you doing?!"

"Probably something stupid," Gwen replied, "but I've done worse." She pushed outside of the attack, wincing as the shrapnel bit into her, though it seemed to almost flow around her. Rory must have realized she was going through. Once on the other side, she met Carmen's baffled expression from the balcony above. "Hey," she yelled up. "Can you give me a hand up?"

The other girl pulled her up, watching apprehensively. From the other side of the room, she heard Celene call out. "Be careful, soldiers!"

At the same time, though, she heard Mallory's voice reverberate from a similar place above. "You're good, G—Fortuna. It can't see you."

"Great," she called back. Whelp, now or never. She promptly turned back around and jumped.

She heard Carmen and Narma gasp as gravity dragged her towards the floor. She felt like she was flying for a moment, but that was quickly overtaken by the utter concentration she needed to catch her sister's elbow.

They shook, Sylvia almost dislodged by catching her, and she knew the fact that Sylvia had often helped her practice for her student classes was the only reason she was able to hold on. But after a jarring yank on her inner elbow as she caught her, she had both hands free.

And the creature lay exposed, where she could see it on the other side of the whirlwind.

She could practically feel the others holding their breath. From what they had seen thus far, the spikes had to come from something, and so Sylvia had reasoned the creature couldn't hit them mid-air. And this angle might give them their shot.

If they could do it quick enough.

Changing her normal orientation, she extended her free arm to make a circle, then drew back her linked arm slightly as though she were nocking an arrow.

"Hurry up," Sylvia hissed.

"Here it goes," Gwen focused, tried to call on her element without engaging the delicate balance she was constantly maintaining. "Celestial Roulette!"

The magic flashed, cycling round and round. It seemed to take an eternity to stop. But then it did, and four projectiles launched directly towards the monster—

—only to bury in the floor as the pinkish net of magic rose around it, and it roared.

Gwen gasped. "That's it! S—Gyges, we can get down now."

Her sister dropped after her, and she saw Narma turn to them. "That's it? It can't attack us?"

"Not for a little while," Gwen said, eyeing the indicator. "But it won't last forever. We have to get as many people out as we can."

The others nodded, Carmen leaping down behind her. As fast as they could move, Rory used her wind attack to float the unconscious patrons out of the house through the giant hole the monster had made of the doorway. The others carried them, pairs grabbing hands and feet, doing all they could to get them out of dodge.

They had gotten the majority of the people out into the garden out back when they got their reality check. "Guys, you have to move!" Mallory barked from above, (and, yikes, really not the time to realize how cute she thought it was when she got all bossy, Gwen, come on.) "The timer's going to run out any minute and I don't know how fast—"

There was a noise like a pop, then a groan.

Chaos.


The other girls screamed around Narma as a myriad of spikes jutted up around them in a line. Narma dove out of the way, hitting the ground with a hard smack that reverberated along her shoulder blade. Carmen landed beside her, rolling to stand as she, likewise, scrambled to get up.

Narma's pulse spiked, unsure what she was seeing as red tainted the pristine white decoration of Carmen's home. There had been no screams—the spikes punctured up through several of the people who'd been fallen unconscious on the floor.

There was a single note ringing in her head, and for a long moment the sight didn't quite seem real.

Then she felt slender fingers violently yank on her arm, pulling her behind the nearest solid object where the noise resounded into labored breathing.

Narma blinked, seeing Carmen in her Sailor Concordia uniform staring back at her. "Na-Narma?" She whispered; even now, they had to be careful. "Can you hear me?"

Narma shook her head, trying to bring back the room. "Ugh," she murmured, "yes, I—those people. Are they...?"

"I don't know," Carmen bit her lip, gaze far away and she clenched tightly to Narma's shoulder. "I don't know."

Narma couldn't comprehend that possibility. She took a deep breath, her head swimming. "We got most of the people out," she reasoned. "We can surround it now. I know we can't avoid it; it's pissed now, but maybe..."

Carmen's eyes hardened. "This has gone on long enough," she agreed. "We have to destroy it."

As they all stood on a rough perimeter around the creature, Narma heard Mallory curse from above. "Jesus Christ—this thing is fricasseeing people on the side, there! I can tell you that doesn't feel good. What the hell is going on down there?"

"We're going to combo it," Carmen shot back, before peeking out to Rory for confirmation. "We're going to combo it?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Rory. "I don't even know what might put a dent in this thing, though."

"It's hungry," Gwen said from somewhere Narma couldn't see her. "Narma. Didn't you say you overloaded that one thing a while ago? Got it to blow itself up?"

Narma's heart stuttered. Not exactly a happy memory—she'd gotten shocked what had to be almost to death, and then Manuel had gotten mad at her for lying about it, but she couldn't forget the feeling of electricity buzzing through her fingers. "Not really a method I would recommend," she grimaced.

Gwen shook her head. "No, I agree. But maybe we can do something similar. Maybe we can feed this thing a bomb."

The others looked to one another, or approximately where they thought they might be. Once they came out, who knew if they'd get another shot? This thing had obviously forgone it's plans about keeping them alive, by the way it had thrown up the stakes without hesitation.

"Okay," Rory called back from behind her, after shrugging at her reluctantly. "We can try."

"I'll take the back," Sylvia piped up, and the rest of Narma watched with a sort of horror and awe as she darted out without hesitation.

But she...wasn't getting hit?

After a second, Narma realized she was moving through spaces that the monster couldn't see her based on the spikes it had put there itself. She wasn't being seen—and she couldn't be, if she was going to be taking the position she said that she was.

Narma grit her teeth. If she draws any attention to herself back there, she's going to invite that thing to skewer anybody who isn't already! Narma thought she'd had her share of reckless girls with Mallory.

But she was quiet, and after a moment, they couldn't see her anymore. Gwen swore. "Dammit. Okay, I can try firing on it again as soon as I'm back. Might make a good opening."

"What the hell is that?" Mallory murmured from above, voice carried by the room's architecture.

Narma's eyes darted to her, but Rory must not have heard. "No," Rory said shakily. "We don't know that that's going to go well, and we can't take any more time then we have to." She looked at Narma pointedly, and she made a little upward whirly motion with her finger.

Narma's eyebrows flew up, but she was pretty sure what she was implying. At the same time, she thought she might have picked up on what Mallory was talking about. In the background, there was the noise of sirens rising.

"Did somebody call the fucking cops?"

"Shit," Narma heard from somewhere in the room, but she couldn't pick up who said it.

"What's the problem?" Narma's brow furrowed. She would have been surprised if no one called the police at the ruckus going on in this rich-blood neighborhood.

"They want to arrest us, that's the problem," Rory suddenly looked anxious, eyes darted back towards the door.

Narma's eyes blew wide. "Oh, shit." Somehow, with everything, she had totally forgotten that fact.

There was the sound of car doors slamming. As they all crouched frozen in the foyer, the front doors suddenly rocked with forceful knocking. "Come out, with your hands up!" A voice boomed with a megaphone.

"You really don't understand what you're asking us to do, guy," Narma fired off, and Rory punched her in the shoulder. From along the backsides of two spikes, she and Rory waited, Carmen waiting between them in her own spot. Gwen hung back behind a pillar where Narma could see her pinched expression. She probably wasn't happy about still not knowing what Sylvia was planning.

Which, fair. She couldn't exactly think of anything she might be able to do to stop the thing moving backwards. Blasting water in its face barely stopped it from moving forwards. Just as they had planned, the rest of them prepared to move as Rory counted down with her fingers.

"Come out! Or I'm coming in," the guy barked.

Narma grimaced. "I really don't recommend that!"

"I'm counting to three," the man boomed, and Rory and she looked to each other, the sudden interloper throwing off what had to be a very carefully coordinated plan. "One," he said. "Two, three—"

The doors came open.

There was a man standing there. He was big and burly, a thick mustache on his face.

He caught sight of Carmen first, judging by his expression. Narma knew what they must have looked like to him—layered in holograph, featureless, mystical and utterly alien. His eyes popped wide like plums. "Good lord—" Spikes shot up in front of him, and he stumbled, yelping as he fell back to the stoop.

Mallory's voice called from above, where she was still holding up two fingers. "Holy shi—"

A squelch.

The creature screamed, and they all looked to each other in alarm, none of them having moved yet. Squelch: the creature thrashed, and spikes shot up right along its side. Was it—was it attacking itself?

Then, she saw it. Narma could only look on in horrified fascination as a spike flew up from behind it where it had been yanked from the ground, burying in spike side down.

Sylvia climbed up on the little platform it made between the creature's spines. "See?" she said. "Not very fun, is it?"

Rory was the first one to break out of it. "Now!" She screamed, and Carmen emerged from between them, firing a Bellicoso towards the monster's wailing mouth.

"Usually, I really hate animal cruelty," Sylvia mused, skillfully grabbing up another spike with her whip to jam it in, creating another little foothold in its maker. "But somehow, I don't think you count."

"Now!" Narma echoed, and she and Rory stood beside one another, recalling the attack they could only summon together.

Rory's hands up, Narma's down.

"Extreme Slashing Vortex!"

Narma could tell Rory was raining it in. The vortex was compressed into a spherical mass, swirling, and Narma thought she could almost see the horrible powered restrained in that storm. Rory met her eyes as they moved it, muscles shuddering with strain, and brought it over to intersect with the Bellicoso

The noise was terrible, like absolutely scraping the strings of a violin. Narma covered her ears as the ball shot off, swallowed up in the monster's wailing maw. Carmen was still going, powering through the cacophony to flow power into it, more and more unbearable—

Rory let go.

The monster exploded. There was no kinder word to describe what happened to that ugly thing, its spikes blowing out but shattering into nothing on impact with whatever they touched. The other spikes too, reduced to some sick parody of fairy dust. Globs of slime splattered in all directions, Narma barely diving in time to avoid getting caught in the debris.

Silence.

Sylvia stood up. She was covered head-to-toe in ick. "We got slimed," she said flatly.

"Ha ha, YES!" Mallory hawed from above, pointing a finger over the railing.

Sylvia stood, as the rest of them got their bearings. "These guys look really bad," she said, much more quietly. She looked over to them, eyes big and glassy.

Carmen stepped forward, slowly. "What do we do?"

That's right—this was her home. Narma swallowed. She'd invited these people here. She couldn't imagine what she might be feeling just then.

"We go," Gwen spoke up, sounding sure as they turned to look at her. She turned back to her sister. "The police are here; they'll get them help. We can't help anyone locked up."

Sylvia's eyes brightened for a second. "I told him to call an ambulance."

Narma sighed. That was probably how the police had found out, but at least they knew someone was coming.

Speaking of which.

"Hey!" Someone shouted from outside. "The—the things are gone!"

They all froze.

Then they scattered.

Mallory grunted—Narma saw Gwen help her down from the stairs as Celene leapt down beside them.

"We're supposed to be in the closet!" Narma hissed as they ran. The other girls tumbled in behind them. "It's supposed to be locked! If we're not in that closet—"

"It'll give us away," said Rory.

"What's happening, Aurora?" Celene murmured.

"We have to hide," Rory panted. "Quick," she through open the door, letting Narma and Carmen in.

"They can't see us," Gwen said, Sylvia coming up beside her. What? Why?

"Me neither," Mallory hissed, holding her leg.

"Okay, okay," Rory said. "To the back!"


"Where did they go?"

The owner of the house wicked summer sweat from his brow. "Please, my daughter is inside, some other young girls—"

"We need paramedics immediately—"


Rory watched Sylvia duck in the bedroom closet, Gwen and Mallory shuffle under the bed—her eyes turned up to the vent—


The police filed in. "Come on, we have to catch those freaks—"

"I'm sorry," Mr. Rodriguez called into the manor, his voice reverberating, "I didn't know they were looking for you—"


Rory shuffled through the vent, the pounding of her knees echoing around her—please, don't let them recognize me—


Mr. Rodriguez bumbled up. "My daughter's in there."

Turning the lock, they opened the closet door.

A group of girls in fancy dress stared back at them, eyes wide.