Yuanfen
By 7th Librarian and Mei1105

Night 1: A Call To Adventure Has The Worst Ringtone

Francesca Benedict knew she should really stop killing her training partners.

It was becoming more and more difficult to explain, not to mention tidying up the mess had gone from requiring duct tape, broom and dustpan to the industrial shop-vac, some water and occasionally a knife to get the little bits out of the cracks in the floorboards. And to round it all off, the replacement cost for each one kept getting higher and higher as she sought out superior partners to the ones she was eliminating.

But as she watched the punching bag spill a small torrent of sand across the ground, its leathery skin crumpling inwards and swaying on the single chain left supporting it while the broken one scrapped over the floor, she still found that couldn't be bothered to care that this was the third bag she'd purchased, hung and destroyed this week.

"Christ, cuz, you're ripping through these things like you're John Wick and they killed your dog." Leaning against the doorframe, winding one of her braids around her finger and sucking on an ice pop Taylor Benedict had the look of dull, impressed amazement that any teenager who refused to openly admit they were impressed had. "I know you spent like five years traveling around the country, but didn't think you went all 'Karate Kid'', too."

"It's not like I was going to carry a gun." Fran said, striding over to the bench in their family's small home gym and fishing a towel out of her bag.

"This is America! Getting a gun is like going into McDonald's." Taylor rolled her eyes and adopted a bad imitation of a deep male voice. "'Hello, I'd like a Uzi, some bullets and some cigars to gnaw on while I spout one-liners, please."

She switched to a much better, falsely cheery flat voice. " 'Yes, sir. You want our Kid's Combo Pack. Did you want an extra side of grenades with that? Or pick from our line of expensive, but very explody rental cars?"

Fran smiled despite herself. "It's not that easy, Taylor. And I was traveling across state lines all the time, so getting it one state wouldn't mean I'd be able to carry it another. Learning martial arts was easier."

"A gun is like a mouse - point and shoot." Taylor gestured with her ice pop to the still dying bag. By now, it was mostly empty and looked rather sad and defeated. "What you're doing is Bad Anger Management 101, taught by Professor Hulk. And I mean the real green rage monster, not the Endgame one with a decent smile and manners."

"Have you been doing nothing but binging on my parent's DVD collection all summer?" Fran asked as she towled her face off and grabbed her water bottle. "Or is talking in movie references the thing that replaced leetspeak and emojis?"

"Naw, emojis still cool. And I'm off college for the summer, so there's not much else to do."

"You could get a part-time job." Fran pointed out. "I'm sure Dad would appreciate it if you offered to help with chores and everything while they feed you, give you a roof over your head and lend you the car."

Taylor bite off a hunk of her ice pop. "Hey, my mom and dad figured that paying my rent here was cheaper than buying me two round-trip plane tickets so I could fly back home for three months. So I'm in the clear." She pointed the half-eaten treat at her cousin like a laser pointer. "But you, Fran, you haven't done anything but brood and train like a madwoman. Haven't seen you fill out any job applications."

"I have a job."

"Yeah, 'bounty hunting'." Taylor threw in air-quotes with her eyeroll this time. "Besides tall, dark and handsome dropping you off weeks ago, you haven't left the house. So is it some kind of trick where you don't catch bad guys and that somehow earns you money?"

"Taylor, we live in the back-end of Normalsville. The only crime we have is double-parking, jaywalking and the occasional graffiti on the brick walls with sidewalk chalk." Fran reminded her, shoving her things in her gym bag. "And my job earned me enough to pay rent while I have some downtime."

"Really? 'Cause if training to be the next Ms. Olympia and murdering punching bags is your idea of down time, I'd hate to see what being busy is like." Taylor sighed as Fran just marched over and got the big street broom to start cleaning up the sand from the bag. "I'm serious, Fran. You really changed since I saw you last. And it's worrying me."

"Catching bad guys isn't all sunshine and roses, Taylor. There's a reason they're called 'criminal scum'." Fran began to sweep the loose grains towards the larger pile. "But I'm still me."

"Then why don't you act like you? You won't tell us how you got that scar on your eye or tell us why you broke up with Andy when just last year, you were gushing about becoming Mrs. Markova." Taylor threw up her free hand defensively when Fran shot her a dark look. "Hey, if just bringing it up makes you bitchy, maybe you should talk about it!"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Fran snapped, not realizing she'd taken a step towards her cousin until the other woman had recoiled.

"Hey, don't bite my head off, I'm just trying to care." Taylor huffed back. "But if you don't want to talk, then don't." She stuck her ice pop in her mouth in a deciding fashion and turned to stomp back out into the yard. "Auntie Cleo says to stop working up a sweat and come back to the barbecue to spend some time with family, by the way!"

Fran watched her go before returning to her sweeping, this time putting more effort into it than necessary. The sound of the stiff bristles scraping over the wood was a good match for her feelings - raw, gritty and unpleasant.

Spending three years gallivanting around the United States with her boyfriend instead of attending college, living off winnings from Duel Monsters tournaments and catching a few criminals, staying in hotel after motel after tent and with no more incentive behind it all than Andy Markova's cocky, charming grin was not a good way to build a long-lasting relationship.

Nor was throwing herself headfirst into that relationship a good way to cope with what had happened five years ago, either. A simple invite to the most magical resort kingdom in the world, Arcadia had become a life-or-death struggle against a powerful evil known as the Shadow Queen as she attempted to free herself from her imprisonment. In less than a day, I went from wondering what I was going to do with my prize money to surviving brutal duels against Duel Spirits, evil magic users and an actual dragon.

And somehow, all of that still felt less daunting than dealing with her family now. But just like then as was now, there wasn't anything to do but do it. Shoving her pile of sand into the corner, Fran dug up some courage from somewhere, stuck it to its sticking place and stepped out the door to interact with her family.

Syracuse, Nebraska was a small farm town and because everyone was everyone else's second-and third-cousins, family gatherings were always large with adults clustering in their standard groups. The farmers discussing grain prices at the tables with coffee, the hunters treating the grills like deer stands as they talked about the season, gossiping mothers, sisters and wives flitting from one group to the next to trade stories and an ever-present gaggle of running kids somewhere. Enough people stuffed into a backyard to make a stranger wonder what holiday was being celebrated.

But not quite enough people for anyone to get lost in. Fran had scarcely sat down with her hot dog, burger, chips and soda when there was someone sitting themselves opposite her. Not the blonde hair of a Benedict, but the chestnut brown of an Abner. Along with the sweet, smarmy smile of her least-favorite cousin - Bertie, arm in arm with his new wife, Lucy.

Here to pick at me like I'm the family scar, hoping I'll bleed some juicy stories so they can lord over me how smooth and perfect their own lives are. The thought was sour, even after a swig of soda and she dug into a hot dog in the hopes they'd get the hint. Or at least wait until her mouth wasn't full.

They did neither.

"Hey, Frannie," Bertie stressed the nickname like the amusing taunt he'd always thought it was. "Fancy seeing you here. It's almost like you're family or something."

Fran didn't respond as she took another bite, deciding she was willing to eat with a knife and fork if it meant maximizing the number of bites and chewtime. Can't spew out words if I'm taking in food.

Her cousin seemed to want to do all the talking for both of them. "Auntie Cleo's told us all about the bounty hunting thing you've been doing. Lucy's little brother has just started police training, but I'm sure he'd love to hear any advice you could pass on..."

"Duck a lot, learn to accept how boring stakeouts can be, and manners go a long way." Fran said without looking up.

"Oh, that can't be it! I mean, you spent three years gallivanting around the States, catching bad guys and striking fear into the hearts of criminals! This is the first time most of us have seen you since you left!" Bertie pressed, leaning forwards over the table. "We don't even know if the wedding invite got to you, you were moving around so much!"

"Mom told me about it. I sent a check and a card."

"Oh, did you? We might have lost it in the shuffle moving to our new house. It was such a lovely wedding, been planning it for years and it all went off without a hitch." Lucy said with another giggle. "Pity you couldn't come, we'd have loved having you and Andy."

Bertie made a show of his polite frown as he looked around. "Speaking of which, where is he? Auntie Cleo said you two were joined at the hip whenever you guys Skype'd and he seemed like a good guy." He laughed a bit. "I mean, he supported the Cowboys instead of the Cornhuskers and doesn't think Fords are the best pick-ups ever made, but hey, we can overlook the small stuff!"

Fran felt her earlier anger surge again and she shoved another bite of food in her mouth to keep inside. But her cousin was staring at her expectantly and she forced out an answer after her swallow. "Andy and I broke up. We wanted different things. That's all."

Lucy put a sympathetic hand on hers. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I know that's not fun and it's a real shame. Everyone was just saying how they figured you'd be next to get married and have a fun wedding. And I was so looking forward to helping - I learned so much from my own that I could probably do yours blindfolded!"

"Thanks." Fran said automatically, pulling her hand free. "But I don't think I want to get married anytime soon. Or maybe ever."

"That's just the break-up talking, Frannie." Bertie insisted, but then looked thoughtful. "But you and Andy started real young. And not everyone can be Lucy and I, you know. Meant for each other. Plus, I bet bounty hunting isn't exactly going to lend itself to a stable home life."

"Or a safe one! I know it's rude, but dear, you lost an eye!" Lucy put in, looking at Fran with concern. "I think that's God's way of telling you to find a safer line of work! And that you're just not cut out for that life!"

"It'd mean a lot to your mom if you stayed home," Bertie agreed. "I know farming's never been your thing, but Uncle Joe's always needing help on his forty acres."

Fran shifted a bit in her seat. "Grandma left me that college fund-"

"College? With your Bs and Cs transcript? And your 'work history'?" Bertie was shaking his head. "You'd be lucky to get into community college at this point. And to be honest, I think that money would be best going into my dad's farm. It is the family's, you know."

"Funny how the family all wound up giving their plots to your dad." Fran couldn't stop herself from saying it. The ongoing debate about whose children were supposed to inherit the original Benedict farm was always a sore spot and made an appearance once every family gathering like a bad penny.

"Hey, now, Dad didn't get them for free. He paid them what they were worth. And if they wanted them back, they could have them. But if he's working his acres, why not theirs? Land that isn't used is land that's not earning." Bertie said and Lucy was nodding along with him.

"Tell that to all the nature reserves and national parks I visited. They weren't cheap." Fran countered with a savage bite of her hamburger.

Lucy made an amused and somewhat dismissive noise. "You can't think that little corner plot along the creek junction you have is a national park, can you? It's just broom grass and weeds."

"Maybe I like weeds. Nature's kind of pretty when you leave it alone and let it do it's own thing." Fran said in a sage tone.

"Green is good, green is good." Bertie nodded a few times. "But you know, Fran, if you're serious about college, you'd need some serious green to get it. You know, the kind that doesn't grow on trees but we all wish did?"

Fran put her burger down, a rock of frustration settling in her stomach with it. "I'm not selling my inheritance, Bertie. So don't ask. And if that's all you want, go away."

Bertie gaped at her, Lucy frowning sharply. "Don't be so rude! And you aren't selling it to us, your Uncle Paul would be renting it from you and we'd rent it from him! You'd have a stable source of income all through college!"

"You mean until Grandpa Lester finally croaks in the nursing home and the will becomes official, meaning Paul gets all the land because he's tricked my family into selling him the rights?" Fran snorted, standing up as Lucy opened her mouth again. "And don't feed me that damn spiel about 'renting' - not when you insist all right paperwork for renting 'shouldn't matter to family because we trust each other'. I've heard better lies from divorce attorneys! And he's not my Uncle just because your wedding had shotguns handy in the back!"

Fuming and resisting the urge to flip her food into Bertie's reddening face and stab Lucy's dark scowl with her fork, Fran stormed off.

She'd left home in part to get away from the small-town politics and bickerings, from a family so involved in itself that it was just like an amoeba that it just consumed everyone's whole lives and only divided itself so it could eat them all over again.

At least her mother had some sense and refused to give Paul Abner so much as a blade of grass from her portion. The original Benedict farm had been - was - a sprawling two hundred acres divided among Lester's seven kids with strict instructions that it was to be preserved for his grandkids so they could benefit from it. Paul Abner had married three times into the family, first by his sister marrying one of Fran's uncles and then his oldest daughter who married one of Fran's cousins. One had ended in annullment because the bride had found out she was a lesbian and the other had become the kind of sullen, loveless marriage that neither party wanted to quit just to spite their spouse.

Bertie was the third attempt and while Fran hadn't been around for it, her mom had been certain the marriage to Lucy was Paul's idea and Bertie just couldn't see past Lucy's cleavage. Fran suppressed a shiver as she realized that Paul had a son about her age and it had been only hers and Bertie's families refusing to sell. I bet anything if I stayed, I'd be Mrs. Abner if they had anything to say about it. Shotgun wedding and all.

Though if Andy had any say about it, he'd have run in with a white horse and spirited her away from the altar. He'd have also insisted they build a house on Fran's inheritance, just to spite the Abners forever. In fact, they had discussed the idea more than once and it had been an entertaining one. Andy had seemed more than eager to engage the small-town politicking.

Of course he would. It's the kind of scenario that means he's always in a position of importance. He'd loved the idea - humble, small-town farmer secret identity to go with his magical, hero saving cape and cowl. The thought made the rock in her stomach burn. Remembering she was twenty-one, Fran yanked a beer out of the ice-filled tub as she passed and stalked towards the porch swing for some privacy.

Only to realize she'd neglected to get a bottle opener. Fran glanced back into the crowd of family, but plunging back in again made her feel like she'd get waylaid if the glances some of them were giving her any indication.

Then she remembered there was a dollar bill in her pocket. Pulling it out, she rolled it up lengthwise, then folded it in half. Wedging the fold under the cap, she used it to pry at the beer cap while rotating it with her other hand. A little more than halfway through, it popped off. Smirking at her success, she celebrated with a slug from the bottle. Serenity'd be proud I remembered that-

Thoughts of her friend brought back thoughts of Vegas and her missing eye ached so hard it was like getting it slashed out all over again. Then came the thoughts of Andy, the magic, the duels, the Shadow Queen and so much else that her whole body throbbed with old pains and fears. Ones that took half the bottle's contents before their edges softened.

She looked out over the backyard, crowded with family members just steps away. But they felt like miles to her and she wasn't sure she'd want to cross them even if they didn't. There has to be at least fifty people just back here...and more than half of them treat this whole land thing like it's news of the century. This town is their entire world.

Her hand went up to her eyepatch. But...it's not my world. Not anymore. I've been through and done so much in the last five years. Magic is real. Evil is real. And people are always needing help. Yet this place just doesn't change. It goes on like nothing has happened. She caught sight of Bertie and Lucy, exchanging what was probably a rounding disdain for how Fran was being a poor sport to her mother. Who, to her credit, was pointedly ignoring them as she set up the dessert table. I'm gone for five years...and they still act like I never left.

The thought was heavy and suddenly, she felt angry. Angry at how short-sighted and petty her family could be. Angry at how tight and choking this small town and its stupid poltics felt. Angry at how these people could never understand what she'd been through and done. Angry at how despite all she had done, she'd fell short. Not enough to save Andy.

You stupid idiot - you just had to go and play hero the one time it wasn't worth it! A headache pulsed at her temples as if her unshed tears were trying to escape by bursting out her skull. Andy spent two months in captivity with this Neo-Shadow Queen or whoever she was and she hadn't heard one wit about him or her at all. Anything could have happened - if it really was the Shadow Queen, really was Iris, then she had two months to extract her revenge on her helpless prisoner-

Don't think like that! Fran swallowed more beer to help wash down her tears and fears. Whoever took him needs him to wield that sword of Lyrius, and she needs him alive for that. And Dracula and Lyrius are doing everything to find him. You just need to wait and be patience, you need to-

She didn't know what she needed to do right, except to not be here in this small town with its small people and smaller problems and stop feeling so damn useless. Tears finally squeaked their way free the right way. Her eyepatch dampened, stinging and wet against her missing eye. They were hot and thick and plopped into her jeans like rain.

Fran looked up, saw Bertie and Lucy looking her way with something akin to delight and she necked back the rest of her beer before standing up and storming into the house - telling herself that it was too painful to cry with an eyepatch on, so she needed to replace it. Instead of not wanting them to give them any more satisfaction.

TTTTTTTT

A man on a horse was not something too unfamiliar in Nebraska. True, most farmers preferred pick-ups and tractors, but there were still horses in use. Mostly for parades or riding classes, but they were common enough that seeing someone randomly on the side of the road with a horse would just result in a single nod of general acknowledgement as you passed them by.

Now, there would be some lowkey sighing and headshaking at the fact the horse's rider was dressed all in black despite the blazing summer sun and the roads were quiet dusty, some second-looks and stares from the fact the horse he was riding was a beautiful black mare of whom 'graceful authority' was the best description and ultimately, a few comments over coffee that the man riding the horse was arguing with it.

And apparently losing, given how his slight frown seemed up to the task of projecting extreme frustration. "I am still not sure that this is wise-"

(You question my wisdom, Master?) the voice in the rider's head indicated the stupidity of such a thought. (I have already explained my logic many times. Must I produce a Powerpoint?)

"You have not the thumbs, Resonae."

(And you are ignoring my point - the Unicorn Maiden is young, strong and will make a valuable asset to our plans. Your reluctance is nothing more than guilt and your anxiety over strangers. Both of which you will put aside if you wish to rescue Mistress) The Nightmare flicked her ear. (And you yourself admitted that we may encounter resistance on the island. The Unicorn Maiden is a hero of Arcadia and will be able to vouch for us if necessary)

"She is also wounded, recovering from emotional turmoil and our hunt for Serenity is, at present, unrelated to our hunt for Andy. As well as she and Serenity got along, it was only one drunken night. And the events of that night resulted in her paramour being taken and the loss of her eye. It seems more likely that she would hold grudges and disdain for both Serenity and I."

(She may indeed, as is her right.) Resonae allowed. (However, we must make the attempt anyway. Educated guesses are still guesses and while I have only been your mount for less than a year, I know that Lyrius Stormcloud does not take guesses as foolproof when facts may be had instead.)

Lyrius just glowered at the back of her head. Resonae was right of course - she nearly always was - but he didn't want to admit just how deep his reluctance permeated his entire being. If he was honest, he was afraid of how this meeting would go. He didn't like not knowing things. Being able to calculate the outcome of a battle before it had begun was so built into his brain after millennia of fighting that he did it instinctively now. But people were different. You couldn't plan how a person was going to react to a situation. Fran had history, injury, emotional pain and a whole host of other feelings that he felt wholly unequipped to face. Resonae had insisted that most of these were problems that Fran was going to have to tackle on her own, but that didn't sit right with Lyrius either. If someone was upset and it involved him, he wanted to fix it and push the odds of conflict more closely in his favour. Being told that he just couldn't only made him more reluctant to face her. I'm walking into a battle against a foe that has no shape, has an army of unknowable size, who keeps changing the rules of engagement and who just smiles smugly when I ask what they want...

(I feel your frustrations. Speak them, so that they do not become resentment?)

"I am...building up this encounter in my head." Lyrius gazed at the side of the road in an effort to ignore his mount's eye swinging to look at him. "I find myself caring very much what Francesca thinks of me. I am not used to it, Resonae."

(Understandable. Before Mistress, it suited you to be alone. All the better to allow your grief to consume you) Her tail came up behind to flick him in the back. (But that was then, Master. You are a loner no longer. You are building a herd. Other people's feelings matter to you. And you do not wish for another to hate you - you have more than enough enemies as it is)

Lyrius remembered a grumpy Mai staring at him mere days ago, her words cutting right to the heart of all his worries. "...you don't people well, do you?" she had said. The truth was heavy and he acknowledged it with a nod. "I am not adept at making friends. Especially in this lifetime. I am better dealing with people at the point of a sword."

(Or wrestling them into submission)

"Or wrestling them into submission," he conceded, patting her between the ears. "I do not wish Francesca to hate me...but if she does hate me, I worry that I lack the skills to fix that." He shook his head. "And those worries are not easily shifted."

He felt Resonae bob her head in understanding. (All we can do is try, Master. Just remember that for all your perceived lack of experience, you have not been completely helpless. After all, you made Mistress like you.)

"By accident. Do not ask me to repeat the process." If he was honest, he was still not sure how he had 'made' Serenity like him. He didn't know why she liked him either. Only that she did.

And he missed her so much that it hurt.

(I think showing up on the Unicorn Maiden's doorstep half dead would not endear you to her, no. But my point still stands, Master. You may require nudging, but you are capable of doing this. I have faith)

She paused, her head swinging upright, and ears pricking toward the sky as she sniffed. (I hear revelry...and smell meat!)

Lyrius did too - each step pushed the delicious smell of barbecue deeper into his brain, and his spirits sank as he realised that the voices were coming from the back of the farmhouse. The number on the mailbox told him that they had reached their destination. "There must be a party - we should come back-"

(Don't be ridiculous!) Resonae pointedly dropped her rear to the ground and sent him stumbling off her back into the huge tree that lined the drive. (You speak to the Unicorn Maiden - I have meat to inspect!)

"Pony!"

"Horsie!"

"Oooohhh!"

Lyrius sat up, watching a small gaggle of children gather against the drive's fence. They were all grinning and staring at Resonae with the kind of eagerness and rapt attention only children could give. One of them managed to excitedly squeak that the pony had a horn and excited whispers spread over them.

It was natural, he knew. Children could see behind the Veil that separated the mundane and the magical and while Resonae looked like a powerful, immaculately groomed black mare to nearly everyone else, the children saw as she truly was. A unicorn with a black horn, her coat the color of evening dusk with mane and tail comprised of billowing black-blue flames and golden eyes.

A Nightmare.

He could tell Resonae was preening over the attention in the back of his head, but she didn't move to approach them through the fence. She knew better - he could already see adults approaching and a 'strange horse' getting close to their children was going to put a bad edge on this already difficult task.

"Can I help ya, sir?" One of the approaching women asked. She was dressed in flannel, jeans and a cowboy hat, leaning on the fence like a random stranger was a common occurrence. She also looked very much like Francesca, though older and more experienced - Cleopatra 'Cleo' Benedict, if Lyrius recalled Iris' dossiers about the Three Heroes right

"I'm Lyrius Stormcloud, ma'am. I am here to talk to Francesca." Lyrius said politely. "I dropped her off here a month ago."

"I didn't say I didn't remember. I asked if you need help." The woman's tone was calm and pleasant, but Lyrius could see from how she was standing that she was carrying a weapon. And she was angled so if she drew, she had a clear line of fire that wouldn't put the kids in danger. "You said you were one of her work friends, so what's this about?"

"Did she mention that one of her partners was in trouble?" Lyrius knew better than to provide any more information than that - the children may have been staring at Resonae, but they were all definitely listening. "I have information about those troubles I felt she needs to hear."

"And you came in person just for that?" Cleo asked pointedly. "We may be out in the boonies, but we have phones and wifi."

"I also need to ask for her help." Lyius admitted. "Concerning the tournament from five years ago on Arcadia."

"Ah-uh. Good for you." Cleo nodded, then fell silent, watching and waiting.

(She is sharp, this one. She knows we are keeping the truth from her. We will not be able to go any further, I think, unless we tell her.) Resonae said in the back of his mind.

(She is not an Aware. She would not believe me.)

(No, but she will believe the Unicorn Maiden. Which is why I have reached out to her. Ah, speak of the devil.)

Summoned by Resonae's words, a new voice spoke up. "You can stop pulling the 'Calamity Jane' stuff, Mom. Lyrius is trustworthy. I told you that already."

"Just 'cause he says he's someone doesn't mean he is that someone. I never saw Andy till you were two years in - who knows whose voice I was hearing?" Cleo had relaxed, though as Francesca herself joined her on the fence. They looked so alike, they might have been sisters.

"Auntie Cleo, can we pet the horsie?" One of the little girls asked, tugging the hem of her shirt in an adorable fashion.

"Horsies aren't doggies, kiddo. You can't just pet them because you want to."

There was a chorus of disappointed 'awwws' from the gaggle so cute Lyrius could not help but smile. Fran did smile as well, then hopped the fence. "How about this? I'll ride the horse and make sure she's safe for you all. Then if Mister Stormcloud says its okay, you can pet her."

"That is acceptable." Lyrius said by way of agreement and saw Cleo nod as well.

"Good. We'll come back around the house when I'm done with my turn, Mom." Fran gripped Resonae's mane and swept herself up onto the Nightmare's back in a single leap that prompted a round of impressed noises from the onlookers. Grinning a bit, Fran urged Resonae forwards with a squeeze of her legs. "Back in fifteen."

"Alright. Just stay in sight of the house. Your uncle and I will be watching." Cleo's words were still friendly, but Lyrius suspected that not only would they be watching, there would be armed shotguns watching with them.

He had to take a few long strides to catch up to Resonae. He admired Fran's posture and the ease with which she handled the large mount - clearly she was no stranger to being on horses. He wondered how much of it was training, and how much of it was her heritage.

"I'm sorry we interrupted," he said, contritely. Fran's one working eye rolled as she laughed.

"It's only a family barbecue, Lyrius. They're pretty much a weekly occurrence in a town where everyone's related to everyone else. I'm glad to see you."

"Really?" he was surprised, and if he was honest, still bracing himself for a fight. Something must have shown, for Fran gave him a piercing look.

"Really? You thought I was going to spend a month at home blaming you for everything wrong in my life? I'm not Andy, Lyrius."

He ducked his head, abashed. "I apologise. I made assumptions. About...well everything really."

Fran sighed. "Look, my eye is...taking some getting used to. But I don't blame you for that. I blame Andy and his stupid hero complex." She broke off, swallowing hard. "And as for Andy himself, I am worried about him...a lot. But that's not on you either. You just happened to be there - you weren't the cause of him getting himself kidnapped. I told you this while we were still at Dracula's. Sitting here for a month hasn't changed that."

Lyrius didn't need to look up to see Resonae smirking. Truthfully, he was too relieved to care that his mount was right. For the first time, he felt a little hopeful. "Thank you for saying so. That means much to me."

"If you're here, you must have news." The perimeter of the farm was devoid of people, but Fran still leaned in a little closer like she expected one of her relatives to be lurking between the tall stalks of corn. "Have you found Andy? Or Serenity?"

"I am sorry to say that we know nothing of Andy's whereabouts or the 'Shadow Queen' who kidnapped him." Lyrius said. It was impossible not to miss that hurt and frustration flashing on Fran's face, but he pressed on. "We do, however, have a very good lead that Serenity is in the care of the smuggling vampire kingpin Chance.

"Mai's old boss and slaver?" Fran's good eye lifted in surprise, then tightened in concern. "I've heard stories about him - before I even met Mai. He's the worst of the worst, Lyrius - drugs and human trafficking are just the top layer of what he's into. Why on earth would Castiel go to the effort of kidnapping her only to sell her to him?"

"He did not, as far as we can tell. Chance hired him, Fushioh and Weevil or they reached some kind of deal or agreement. Regardless of the specifics, we managed to find out where all of them have been for nearly the last two months." Lyrius took a moment, then said. "They are on Arcadia."

"Arcadia?!" Fran's disbelief was loud and she reflexively ducked down after her shout scattered a few birds out of the field. "What are they doing there? How are they there? The island's been locked down to the public ever since the tournament!"

"We are not sure what they are doing there - all we have been able to gather is that Chance is looking for something important there and it has something to do with Reaping Trees. As to how…" Lyrius' lips thinned in a frown. "Chance has been running a drug operation off the island for decades, disguised as legitimate shipping. And if he can get things out, he can get them in. Particularly so since Iris' watchful eye is gone."

"And she let him on there in the first place?" Fran asked in disbelief.

"If she did, I imagine she simply made an arrangement to ensure his drugs did not infect Arcadia and he paid tribute. Beyond the island's shores, it is the rest of the world's problem then."

"Tch...figures." Fran huffed to herself before giving him a sidelong look. "You didn't come here to tell me that, though. You came here to ask me to go with you, didn't you?"

"Resonae wants you to come with us, yes. I am uncertain on the idea. The argument is that you would be an asset. I am not welcome on the island - the Shadow Spawn made that extremely clear the last time I tried."

He flinched, still feeling the attacks dig deep into his flesh, all of them scratches compared to their hateful words.

"We would of course be aiming to be inconspicuous so as not to alert Chance or Castiel, but were we to run into trouble with the authorities, having a celebrity who is on friendly terms with the Shadow Spawn would be helpful. Additionally Resonae feels that you are 'wasted' out here."

(Tell me I'm wrong) Resonae whickered. Fran didn't say anything, which Lyrius took as an invitation to continue.

"And the opposing side is that you are a bit unstable, recovering from a major trauma and ultimately, this does not involve Andy. Only Serenity."

Fran remained silent, her blue eye mindly scanning over the field of corn as they rounded a corner. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, then spoke. "What about this 'Shadow Queen'? If she's using the title and wanted your old sword and Andy to use it, then wouldn't she want the whole kit and kaboodle? Including Arcadia?"

"That is a reasonable conjecture, but nothing we have found substantiates that." Lyrius said by way of reply. "The world is a big place and, as I have recently discovered, Iris' contacts and designs extended far beyond Arcadia."

The words left a bitterness in the back of his throat. His efforts in the last month to tap into Iris's long dead global network for resources had proven disorientating in unexpected ways. Stymied by his lack of knowledge, he had turned instead to Mai for help. She had more than come through, unearthing more contacts, money, documents and supplies than they could possibly work through in five lifetimes. It should have made him happy to have resources for their venture. Instead it had left him shocked and confused. Assets stretching to every corner of the globe...and I knew of none of it.

"No one on the outside world knew about her, though. She used aliases and disguises and intermediaries. Hell, the whole planet didn't even really know about Arcadia until five years ago. If anyone is going around using the Shadow Queen's title and her things, then it stands to reason that they either came from Arcadia or are going there. And all those contacts and designs started there, too. So we need to know more about them. And yeah, it's a longshot, but…" Fran trailed off, then nodded after a moment's more contemplation. "I'll come with you."

"It will be far more dangerous than the last time you were there, Francesca. Our enemies will be out to kill you instead of defeat you and the Shadow Spawn have no love for me." Lyrius warned her. "And we may not find any clues to Andy's situation at all. Or even be able to rescue Serenity. It may well be a fool's hope."

"I know. But you are right - sitting around here doing nothing but brooding isn't going to help me. Andy isn't just going to fall into my lap. Besides, I've done more with less than a fool's hope. Just look at the Shadow Queen - we beat her with nothing more than the shirts on our backs!" Fran said with a touch of a smile, but it quickly fell as she remembered who she was speaking to. "Oh, sorry…"

"No need to apologize, but it is accepted." Lyrius said mildly. They were approaching the farmhouse's front - he could feel her looking at him, another question on her tongue. And he had a suspicion he knew what it was.

But there was no time for it - the farmhouse door was banging open to let out a horde of kids of all ages yelling in delight as more ran from around the house. Apparently word of Resonae's presence had spread and Lyrius suspected they were going to be very busy giving off pony rides for the foreseeable future.

TTTTTTT

Fran watched, smiling as another two children were removed from Resonae's back and the next two were put on instead. The Nightmare was the very picture of docile, but Fran knew from her earlier ride that those muscles were prime and ready to fly through the corn fields at a moment's notice. Lyrius was patient as the children pelted him with question after question about his 'super cool unicorn'. The gathered adults were chuckling at that assertion, but Lyrius made time to answer every question seriously and in return, the kids put on their best behavior as they waited for turns for a trot around the backyard.

It was a side of him she hadn't ever expected, if she was honest. She'd only known him a short amount of time and knew he wasn't a people person and was very quiet and reserved. This sudden shift from 'stoic warrior badass' to 'paternally patient' was surprising both in that it existed and in that he was capable of it all. I've heard the phrase 'still waters run deep', but didn't think anyone actually lived it.

Though it was clear that despite after an hour of rides, there were still plenty of kids to go (and some of her teenage cousins pretending to be kids) and there wasn't going to be any good food left before he and Resonae got some. Deciding she needed to be a good hostess and feeling suddenly hungry herself, Fran pulled two paper plates off the stack and set about assembling a sampling of the best food her mother had to offer. Potato salad, homemade rolls, corn-on-the-cob, a side of ribs with family's secret sauce, a large steak and even a burger stacked with all the trimmings. Both plates were fit to collapse, but from what she'd seen at Dracula's castle, Lyrius would eat it all and ask for seconds.

Which means he's going to want cutlery. It's like he thinks using his fingers is an insult. Fran amused herself with the idea of seeing him slice off corn-on-the-cob to eat with knife and fork, but the plastic stuff out with the food wasn't going to cut it. Balancing both plates on her arms lest some sneaky relatives make off with them, she shoved open the screen door with her hip and slid inside. Sliding them on the island, she dug around the drawers for silverware.

"So Fran, you never told us you were leaving today."

It took most of Fran's self restraint not to turn around and stab her relatives with the fork in her hand. In contrast to earlier, Lucy's voice was clipped and colder than the ice in her drink. Bertie, obedient as ever, stood by her side, his eyes darting out the screen doors where Lyrius was playing with the children, eyeing him like he was a horse that needed putting down.

"You mean after you insulted my education, my work, my injury and every other life choice I've ever made? I can't imagine why." Maybe it was giddy relief at the knowledge that she would be leaving in a few hours. Or maybe she was just tired of their bullshit. But Fran suddenly found herself relishing the offended looks on both their faces.

"There's no need for that," folding his arms, Bertie fixed her with a scowl. "We're only looking out for what's best for you. And I wouldn't trust that Lyrius guy to take care of you."

Fran bristled. She wondered if Resonae would mind if she sacrificed her plate of food to throw in Bertie's face (she had a sneaking suspicion that the Nightmare would just eat it off him anyway). "Hello Bertie, the eighteenth century called - it wants its misogyny back. I am a grown ass woman. I don't need to be taken care of. And where do you get off on being rude about someone you've only just met?"

"It's called being smart, Fran," Bertie objected. "The guy's weird. Who invites himself up to a stranger's house instead of using the phone? He's already got half the kids believing that his horse is a unicorn. And he's dressed like some goth punk."

Fran rolled her eyes. "Like you know what goth punk looks like."

"He's right," Lucy was shaking her head, in a pitying fashion. "And I was listening to him talking to the kids. He was telling them he doesn't have a home and just lives on the road. And let's be honest, you clearly have a type, darling. All nice guys with rough edges and eager to please. And you're here, reeling from your break up, hurting with that terrible injury and a patch of land that you're not doing anything with-"

Fran gaped, recovering as she saw that Lyrius had noticed the confrontation from outside. "Have you been huffing hairspray or something?" she asked. "How long did you both sit in here rubbing your two brain cells together to come up with that stupid theory? Lyrius is not my boyfriend! He has his own money and a girlfriend, so don't try and dress this up as you being concerned for me. You just want me to stay here so you can find some way to poach my land off me!"

"You're being overly dramatic Fran," Bertie huffed. "We're just trying to look out for you - someone has to, because you're not making a lot of smart decisions. Going back to wandering around the country scraping a living until you lose another eye and come wandering back? It's not just me - plenty of the family think that you're not coping well with the trauma and think you need to stay home and get some help."

Now Fran was mad. "So if you can't get me to hand over my inheritance for a bribe, you can't get an Abner to marry me, you want to get me declared mentally incompetant. Is that it?"

Lucy gasped and Bertie just scowled. "Don't act like you don't need some kind of help, Frannie. We all know about how you've been half-screaming in your sleep. About that tournament you went to five years ago. Always muttering about magic and dragons. Then you come home and expect us all to act like you running around the country is a normal response to that?"

Fran could see Lyrius politely excusing himself outside and heading for the house, but she ignored it. "Bertie, maybe you've been so deep in that Abner's silicone molehills that she's crushed your brain, but Benedicts don't attack each other like this!"

"They don't just ditch family, either! And they trust family with their problems!" Bertie snapped. "But you had to go run off to play heroine like a stupid teenager and left me picking up the pieces as your mom worried herself sick over you!"

Other family members were beginning to peer through the back door to watch the drama unfold. Fran just kept going. "Don't feed me that line! You don't care about me, you care about the land because Paul's filled your head with ideas about how he can make it profitable and do all the work and all us Benedicts will have to do is sit on our asses and grow fat on his money! But all he's doing is just taking the land we'll be left with empty promises!"

"Don't talk about my daddy like that!" Lucy hissed, her cold voice Arctic-levels now. "You Benedicts think you're so much better!"

"Then you got lucky enough to marry up into the world!" Fran said with mock sweetness.

"Don't talk to my wife like that!" Bertie took a menacing step forward and the air about crackled with the tension between the two. "And don't go thinking you're better than us! You'll be the one couch-surfing and asking for loans ten years down the road when you finally realize you've done nothing with your life!"

"You have no idea what I've done with my life!"

"I don't think you do, either, Frannie!"

"Whoa, now! Whoa!" Cleo had appeared in the doorway from the garage, her arms laiden with two more tubs of potato salad. "That is enough! I don't care what you're arguing about, I'm not having another family affair end in a fight! Both of you, take it somewhere else!"

"This isn't a fight," Bertie insisted, his tone all rational and calm again. "I'm just trying to be good family!"

Fran gave Lucy a blistering look. "To the wrong family, Bertie. But I'm a Benedict. And our land is ours. You won't even get my piece if I die - I'll be buried there before the ink is dried!"

"You little-"

"Bertie, Lucy! Outside! Now!" Cleo shoved the tubs of potato salad into their arms to force them to obey and they stomped outside in matching huffs. That done, she rounded on the back door. "Rest of you - show's over, now scram 'fore I decide to use the lot of you as target practice for my pies!"

The threat may have been comical, but Fran knew that her mom had a powerful throwing arm, unerring aim and the ability to churn out pies like a one-woman machine. The family dispersed and the older Benedict made a point of slamming the screen door closed before she turned to her daughter, taking one of the balanced plates. "Sit down, honey. I think you need to loosen up that jaw with some talking before you crack your teeth."

Fran grunted, her mother's words making her realize the pain in her cheeks from her clenched teeth and forced herself to relax it as she sat on the island. "I am going to feed those two the hogs, I swear it!"

"There's no need to punish the hogs like that," Cleo said wryly as she moved over to the fridge. Opening, she produced a couple of ciders. Popping the tabs, she slid one across to her daughter. "Try that. It's fruity."

"Thanks." Fran sipped the drink - it was indeed fruity and pleasantly burned her throat on the way down. "Have they always been like this since the wedding? How the hell do you not just shoot them, mom?"

"They know better than to try and pull their crap with me. They know if they push the issue, I'll burn my land down and salt it, just to spite them." Cleo said, twisting off the lid of her own cider. "And Taylor's working on her law degree, so she took a red pen when they sent her a contract and sent it back, looking like a murder victim."

"Good for her." Fran sighed and drank some more.

"So you're going off again." Cleo said into the silence and Fran nodded. "Mm, figured you would, kiddo. You've been more agitated than a Great Dane in a cat carrier practically since you got home." When Fran didn't respond, she continued. "This about Andy?"

"Maybe. It's...complicated." Fran said slowly. She hadn't mentioned Andy being kidnapped, only that they'd separated. "But he's in a bad spot and by helping Lyrius, I can maybe help him, too. And he's not my boyfriend anymore."

"Yeah, I kinda heard you the first time. And the fact you got more upset about Bertie nagging you about your friend than Andy." Cleo said. "That's been bugging you, hasn't it? You and Andy broke up and you feel like it doesn't hurt like it should?"

Fran looked up from the island countertop. "Well...yeah, that's pretty much the nail on the head. I mean, he's in trouble and I'm worried about him and I want to help him, but I just worry about him like a friend. Yet everyone seems to think he and I are supposed to be joined at the hip!"

"Everyone still says that about your daddy and I, too. They think we're perfect for each other and we should get back together. Or I should find a new hubby." Cleo shook her head with a smile. "The fact I say I don't want one doesn't seem to register."

She patted Fran on the shoulder comfortingly. "Thing is, Fran, I feel the same way about your daddy as you do about Andy. He's a good guy and a friend, but I don't miss the romance we had at all. Fact is, none of us first born Benedict women seem to really want anymore than a taste of love and all."

"Really?" Fran blinked at her in surprise.

"Sure as rain. Let's see...your Grandma Agnes never remarried or got a boyfriend after your Grandpa died, just always said she didn't need it - and he died young, so she was a widow for fifty years. And her mom's boyfriend ran out when she learned she was pregnant and she just shrugged and spent the next twenty years outmatching men half her age building the railroads. And on and on back through the ages." Cleo said with a shrug. "Call it a curse, call it bad luck, but I think it's just who we are."

Fran mulled this over as her mom squeezed her arm.

"Go help your friend and Andy if you can. We both know all men need a Benedict to keep their heads on straight. But if you don't want to get back with Andy, don't. You aren't obligated to be in love with someone...and weren't you yelling something at Bertie just now about being a 'grown ass woman'?"

"Yeah. But…" Fran touched her eyepatch. "I'm going back to Arcadia, Mom. And that was...not fun, to say the least."

"I know. You left my little girl and came back as my big strong daughter. And I won't say I'm not worried. And I wish you'd tell me exactly what happened there and what you had to go around the country for three years for and why you lost that eye. But I saw that look in your eye when you were defending your friend to Bertie, when you said you were leaving." Cleo sighed in that way only mother's could do. "But I know you need to do this and you'll just be all knotted up if you don't. All I ask is you try to stay safe and come home once in awhile."

"Thanks, Mom." Fran hugged her mother impulsively and felt her mother hug her back. "I promise I will."

"I know, kiddo. Now you should get those plates of food to your friend before they get any colder. And if his horse wants anything, she can have a couple of the bales from the barn." Cleo patted her daughter on the back and then stood up herself, taking her cider with her when she left. "Now I gotta go and keep everyone fed and resist the urge to smack Lucy 'round the face."

Fran smiled at the resigned tone in her mother's voice and grabbed the plates, heading out the door where the pack of kids was dispersing. Feeling suddenly better about everything, she headed towards Lyrius with the certainty that the Benedict family secret recipe was going to coax just a bit more information from the man and his horse.

And maybe another pony ride for her.

(Ah, sustenance!) Resonae cried in delight, reaching forward for the plate, and pouting when Fran pulled it out of her reach.

"Nuh uh, Mom was very clear," Fran said with all due seriousness. "She said you can have a couple of bales of hay. The barn is over there."

She nodded at the building in question, watching Resonae's face morph into indignation, followed by longing as she looked at the warm, moist steak on the nearest plate. Fran was sure her lip would start wobbling, and she laughed.

"I'm kidding Resonae. I'm trolling you!" Giggling she leaned into the Nightmare's neck in the closest to a hug she could manage while balancing plates in both hands. She could see Lyrius struggling not to smile.

(...I could go off you…) the Nightmare was sulky and began hoovering up the potato salad, clearly afraid that it might disappear.

"You would eat hay with the same gusto as steak, Resonae. And you could easily hunt something to eat if you were that starving." Lyrius told her as he took his own plate. "Do not let her actions fool you, Francesca, she is simply trying to guilt you into more things like cake."

"If you want more to eat, pony, you can go after my cousin Bertie and his wife Lucy." Fran informed her.

(No, thank you. Too much stupid in my diet causes problems.)

"You heard that." Fran grimaced.

"We both have very good hearing and you were not being discreet." Lyrius informed her as he started on his own food - carefully using the fork and knife she'd given him to carve up his burger. "Do you still want to come with us? If you would want to take another track with your life, I will not be insulted. And I can pay for any college or degree path you want."

"No. I said I was coming and I meant it." Fran insisted, though she couldn't help but recall Bertie's words and a sigh escaped her. "Look, let's just not deal with it now. Tell more about this trip to Arcadia, and then come help me pack before Bertie decides to take my deck hostage or something stupid…"

TTTTTT

Lyrissa Stormcloud didn't do very much.

He had been living on Arcadia with her for two months now, and Andy couldn't understand it. He'd expected so much from the daughter of the Shadow Queen, and her pet assassin. For the first week in the modest two-up-two-down townhouse, he'd kept expecting to wake up with a knife in his back, despite the reassuring presence of the Penalty Game in the back of his head. Even now, before he went to sleep, he still pulled the dresser across the door just in case.

As Jemorille had suggested, he'd commanded her through the Penalty Game to stay in her room while he was not in the house, and not leave. But even with that restriction, he still expected to walk in one day and find her sitting in a chalk drawing summoning a demon. And yet, she wasn't. Often he walked in and found her meditating (at least that's what he thought she was doing, but now he thought about she could easily be praying to some abyssal lord for all he knew). Sometimes she was just sitting on the end of the bed staring out into nothing. On one occasion that still made him blush, he'd walked in on her dancing naked around the room. He'd slammed the door closed quickly after that.

She hadn't made any attempts to escape. The townhouse was small, tucked away in a quiet street in Rougeport. Jemorille had assured him that it was warded to help keep unwanted visitors out, and while Andy knew that the Penalty Game was keeping Lyrissa from escaping, he was surprised that she hadn't even tried. Not once did he catch her eyeing up the locks, or fiddling with the windows. She hadn't tried to trick him into releasing her either. She answered his questions about the island when he asked them. She got defensive and angry when he spoke ill of her parents. She asked him politely to bring her back ice cream from time to time - some weird flavor that had fish in it. But she never asked to be released from the Penalty Game. She didn't even request to go outside.

If Andy didn't know any better, he'd say she didn't have a plan.

But that was stupid. No sane person wanted to stay in captivity.

She's playing the long game...the voice in his head whispered. Iris waited centuries to put her escape plans into action. If Lyrissa is anything like her mother, she can wait until your guard is down.

Knocking on the door to her room now, he wondered if today was the day he walked in and found a bedsheet rope hanging from the window. Or fire and brimstone spewing from a summoning circle. He was surprised that he felt a touch of disappointment to find her sitting on the end of her bed again, staring off into a corner. At least she's not doing her naked dance again…

"Do you have a purpose being in my room, Dragon Master?" Lyrissa did not bother to look at him as she spoke. "If you have not one, please leave."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Jeeze. You wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" Folding his arms, he leaned against the doorframe, wondering how best to broach his reason for being there. "Is there anything on this island that kills with keys?"

Her head tilted slightly towards him. "No. That seems a highly inefficient way of killing someone."

"You would think," sighing Andy pulled out a folded up photograph and handed it to her. "Two people have been murdered in the last week - one in Poshley Heights, the other in Glitzville. Both had open wounds to the chest - blunt trauma initially before penetrating the heart with a small narrow object. The autopsy indicated a key as the most likely weapon - from the damage inside it looked like the attacker twisted the weapon once it was in."

Now she was engaged, her eyebrow lifting. "...are you saying the killer tried to unlock their hearts? That's...strangely poetic."

Andy pulled a face. "No, it's sick. That's the word you're looking for. The victims were still conscious when this was happening."

She didn't react - only examining the picture again with a certain strained patience that he had come to see regularly when he corrected her. Jeeze it's like she's made of stone. Would she even flinch if someone tried to shove a key into her chest and turn it? He suspected not - he would have bet all his money on the Shadow Queen trying to beat empathy out of her offspring.

She eyed the picture thoughtfully, before passing it back. "There are no magical creatures or beings on the island that operate that way. I suspect that your murderer will be more mundane in nature. A person with a goal, than an animal with impulses."

Dread settled on Andy - he'd been afraid of that. Animals were simple. People were far more difficult. He hoped it didn't show on his face. He'd been there for two months, and while he'd not been idle, stopping several robberies, a small scale smuggling operation, and a group of idiot teenagers who'd drunkenly been trying to summon Duel Spirits, homicide was a different ball game.

"Did the autopsy reveal anything else about the key?" She asked curiously. "Size and shape?"

"Yeah - they were able to reconstruct the shape based on the damage." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out another folded sheet of paper. "Something weird about the teeth - they almost look like they're bent or barbed."

Lyrissa took the sheet of paper and unfolded it, her eyes scanning it. After a moment, her expression drew tight. "They are not either - the teeth are, in fact, the shape of a crescent moon."

Andy stared at her. "And how do you get that?" Looking at the page over her shoulder he couldn't tell how she was getting it at all.

"The wounds it made are symmetrical, the deepest cuts here - "She pointed at the wound photos. "Are mirrored. And when the key is twisted inside the victim, the wound is a parabola. That is because the teeth of the key are a crescent moon, mounted so it's 'back' is attached to the shaft and the tips become 'horns'."

Despite himself, Andy was impressed. True, he was no expert on dead bodies - as a bounty hunter, you were more concerned with a live one. Any that were dead, you just took photo proof of and then called the authorities. "That's pretty good logic. But how'd you do it? You're like a thousand years out of date with everything."

"I was allowed to watch modern television. I enjoy crime dramas. And for another thing, I know this key - it is what you consider 'old fashioned'. Six inches long, made of solid metal and capable of being an improvised weapon." Lyrissa said and shoved the paper back at him. "I would know - I once used it as such."

He felt his heart leap. "You...what?" he scrambled to process what she had said, along with the matter-of-fact delivery of the statement. "You know this key?"

"Yes. I am it's owner. Or at least, I was." She said with the air of addressing someone who needed their hand held. "I just implied as much."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes - he had to remain the grown up in this. "What does it unlock?"

He saw her lips tighten, sealing her silence as her answer.

Anger flickered in Andy's chest. "People are being murdered. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" When she still didn't answer, the anger began to boil. Reaching for the Penalty Game, he pushed at it. "Lyrissa, tell me what this key opens."

"A gate." The words were flat and curt. Frustrated he pushed again.

"Give me details - where is this gate? Where does it lead to?"

"The gate leads to a small clearing just outside of Rougeport. It was used as a place of worship." He could almost feel her struggling to keep as much of the information close to her chest as she could while the game dragged them slowly and forcefully from between her lips.

"Worship of what? Demons?" He could only imagine what sort of worship the Shadow Queen had allowed on Arcadia. "Could this killer have been possessed by something and that's what's making him murder these people?"

"Unlikely - demons would not be tolerated in this holy site," she shook her head. "There must be another factor influencing the murderer - there would have to be to break the enchantments on my key."

"What enchantments?" he didn't let up on the Penalty Game for an instant. Why couldn't she just tell him what he needed to know instead of dragging it out?

"To stop thieves, I enchanted the key to paralyze anyone who tried to steal or remove it from my person." She said. "The spell can only be removed if I will it or if the person…" she trailed off, her gaze suddenly moving into the distance as something captured her attention.

"If that person what?" He didn't have time to wonder at the thought process of someone who would enchant a key to some kind of church or temple in order to keep anyone from breaking in. Wouldn't it make more sense just to enchant the building?

"Get me a basin, some clean water and chalk. Now."

"...I'm sorry, what?" Andy gawked at the strange request. "Why?"

"I am going to scry the location of the key and its current owner." She explained impatiently. "Unless you would rather wait until they've murdered a third person?"

Andy wanted to find a clever retort, but they had a lead, and it was too tempting an opportunity to pass on just to be churlish. So he set about gathering the requested items, while she moved downstairs, and loudly began shoving furniture against the walls in the front room. She took the chalk straight from his hand as he joined her, drawing a large circle on the cleared floor and then scrawling an arrangement of symbols along the outer edges.

Once that was done, she threw open the curtains and cut the lights. Moonlight spilled into the room, but she did not look pleased with where it landed on the far wall. She marched into the bathroom and Andy jumped as he heard metal twist. She came back out holding the medicine cabinet mirror and shoved it at him.

"We're renting this house - why are you breaking things?" Andy took the mirror from her, if only because he was concerned she was going to smash it against something. Like his head.

"Go stand on the far wall and angle the moonlight into the center of the circle!" She gave him a shove in the right direction.

Andy obeyed, twisting the mirror awkwardly in his hands so that the light hit where she wanted it. "This isn't how scrying works…"

She shot him a cool look. "Can you cast the spell, Dragon Master? No? Then let me work." Turning her head back to the circle, she began to hum softly. Once she had a melody going, she began to sing. "As the moon unveils the night, as my song frees the dancer, let this water wash away all but the truth."

Lyrissa hurled the basin's contents into the circle and to Andy's surprise, it didn't splash out and ruin the chalk like he thought it would. It instead swirled around in a perfect circle, becoming mirror smooth. Its surface shimmered, reflecting the room's ceiling and Lyrissa's growing annoyance. "Dragon Master! The moonlight!"

Andy hastily shifted his grip on the mirror and angled the moonlight into the puddle. The image on it wavered, as if the moonlight was solid enough to give the water ripples. When it settled, it was showing something else entirely.

There was a key in someone's hands, six inches long, silver that had been tarnished decades ago, with long crescent-shaped teeth running up and down the shaft. Andy sighed at it. "Gee, you found it."

"Quiet!" Lyrissa barked before going to back to singing softly to herself. The image drew back on itself, showing the key was in the hands of a man in a leather jacket and cowboy hat. The face underneath caused her to stop singing for a moment - it looked normal enough save for the eyes, which were two burning orbs of raw hatred and rage.

"What the hell?" Andy asked of no one in particular and quickly got the mirror back into position as she gave him a look.

She touched the water, making it ripple and the angle of the image changed. Now it showed the man with the key. He was creeping around cobblestone streets, skulking in the shadows. Those burning eyes would move slowly and then the man would sidle forwards. The key was clenched in his fist like a loaded weapon. "He's hunting somebody."

"With the key? And what's with those eyes?"

"That man is a revenant. He is seeking revenge for a cruel death and nothing will stop him in getting it."

"So these two victims killed him?" Andy was confused. They had seemed like ordinary people. Law abiding. Quite well off. Not the sort of people to get mixed up in murder.

"No. I have another theory," Lyrissa's gaze was fixed on the key in the shimmering mirror-like pool. "I told you the key paralyzes anyone who tries to steal it? If I had to guess, this man broke into the Palace, picked up my key, and remained paralyzed there until he died...starvation or dehydration."

"So he's hunting you?" Andy didn't want to contemplate the horror of being frozen, unable to move as you felt your body slowly shut down. "Then why did he go after the other two?"

Again, she shook her head. "All traces of me have been lost to time…" She paused, frowning suddenly. "But if he was in the Palace, he might have assumed the key belonged to Mother. He is hunting for her. Those first two victims must have been associates of hers. Revenants will often go after allies of their target - to weaken their enemy before they go in for the kill."

Andy knew that getting to the man's goal would be futile - unless becoming a revenant came with a free travel pass to the Abyss there was no way he would ever get his hands on the Shadow Queen. But who knew how many other people on the island had been associated with her in some way? What if he targeted the Shadow Spawn next? He looked down at the water, and the intense hatred in his eyes, and he knew what needed to be done.

"He's not going in for another kill, because we are going to find him - that's what your spell is supposed to be doing." Andy pointed out. "And all I'm seeing is every street on Arcadia."

"I am getting there." Lyrissa returned curtly and resumed singing. The image changed again and it gave an over-the-shoulder view from behind the revenant. He was striding purposefully towards a gate inside a high-stone wall, a three-story building visible further in the background. The gate was decorated with blue and gold streamers. "What is this? Some kind of party?"

"It's the 'Give to Save' benefit! I've been seeing flyers all week for it!" Andy said as the image clicked. "The wealthiest people on Arcadia are getting together to try and help the economy and bring more money into the island and arrange for people to go to college off-island!" He looked at Lyrissa with a fresh worry churning along the rest in his stomach. "Is this image live?"

"Yes."

"Then this guy is gatecrashing and won't be leaving with just party favors!" Andy dropped the mirror onto the couch and jumped the circle, sprinting for the door. "Let's go!"

He paused, one hand on the doorknob as he realised that she was making no moves to follow him. "...didn't you hear me? I said let's go!"

She blinked. "I heard. Am I to understand that you wish me to accompany you?"

Andy felt his impatience dent slightly. He had said it on impulse, in the same way he'd said it to Fran during their bounty hunting days. He always went out on his own, leaving his prisoner confined to her room. Jemorille was right - she was too much of a loose cannon to risk outside. But the more he thought about those eyes, and the horrible blunt puncture wounds in the victim's chests, he felt that resolution waver.

"How dangerous is this thing? You said he's an undead?"

"He is very dangerous. Revenants have powerful regenerative abilities - most forms of injury will not last. And even if you do destroy him, the soul will simply find another body to inhabit and continue the pursuit." Lyrissa said firmly. "But I am capable of removing its soul from this plane."

That was all Andy needed to hear. He jerked his head at the door. "Then yes. I want you to come with me." He gave the Penalty Game a nudge to imprint the words into her head. "Don't try and escape, or kill anyone except this revenant thing."

"I will not waste my time tonight doing either."

He didn't believe her, but that would be enough for now. He hurried for the stairs, pleased when he heard her following briskly behind. Maybe she can do something other than sit in her room and brood.

OOO

A/N: Yay, a chapter posted when I'd say we post it! In ten years of writing, this makes exactly…*does all the math* one! A new record! Now I just have to keep the streak going.

Reviews...reviews will help with that.

Just sayin', you crazy cats.

From 7th Librarian, with love.