A/N: Happy weekend, everybody! Here are the last two chapters!

014 — The Second Advice

In the late afternoon they returned to Yellow Springs. Bucky's curiosity about the place was no longer stagnant but mellow bursting on keen. He tolerated being shown Antioch, Dr Smart's office indicated from the stories beneath an arched window. And he enjoyed the brief drive by the Smarts' home; Cassidy and Carney were behind the fence, silent as the car sidled on. In the town proper, with its artistic shops, bookstores, eateries, and cafes, Ro ushered Bucky and Zee into Madcap's Magics and Crafts. A heart-shaped face, with wide light blue eyes looked up from the computer at the queue area.

'Cooee! You came in! Oh, I'm so glad!' Colette cried. She tumbled from behind the counter and embraced her friends, halting at Bucky.

'This is our friend, Bucky Buenaventura,' Zee explained. 'Bucky, this is Colette Ransley, proprietor of this shop.'

'Pleased to meet you,' Bucky said. He'd heard about Colette from Zee's telling of last night's garden party. The synthoid had left out details, and Bucky had those filled in immediately.

Colette forgot about shaking his proffered hand, hugging him instead, throwing her short, pale arms around his bronzed neck. Bucky smiled at this affection, analysing her again as he pulled away. She resembled Ro, in some angle and shape of her features, and was nearly the same height as Ro, slightly on the more voluptuous side. If Ro had thought about it, she would've been envious of Colette's almost matronly curves and full bosom.

'You do look like Ro,' he commented quickly, glancing at his friend. Ro took no offence to this notion. 'Twin daughters of different mothers.'

Colette and Ro looked at one another. Colette giggled. 'That's a nice thought, but I'm much older than Ro. Are you from this area?'

'Far, far away.'

'Second star to the right—all that?'

'Ha, more or less. Third star, though. I popped into town on the tails of a comet for Ro's birthday.'

'Your birthday!' Colette became animated at the news, and hugged Ro for a second time. 'You should've said something! We could've gone out—had some fun! Still can, if you want! The shop closes at five—I can call Aubrey and Nat and Darien and a bunch of our friends. And you can meet my brother! He's coming into town later. We can all meet at the grill. Oh, please! We'll have such a good time!'

Smitten by the enthusiasm of such an undertaking, Ro found resistance to the plan impossible. While she and her friends looked around the shop, Colette phoned all she could think of that might be interested in going. In fifteen minutes, she had a sizeable party of nine guests. Always the planner, Colette called ahead to the grill and reserved a table. They huddled around her when she made the announcement. Then, holding Bucky's gaze, she tilted a shoulder coyly into her chin.

'Did your friends tell you they were thinking of staying here for a while?'

'They mentioned it,' Bucky said, feigning perplexity with a wrinkled brow.

'Don't you think they should?'

He took a moment, considering. He rubbed his chin. 'Not that my opinion matters, but—yes, I think they should. It would be in their best interest.' In many ways it was in their best interest, but instinct told him that Colette, lively as she was, didn't know the extent of Zee and Ro's complicated life. If Zee and Ro stayed maybe Colette would become a confidante. That, too, was out of his control. 'When's dinner, then? I'm starving. We skipped lunch to take in some of your Ohio's more natural sights.'

'Not until five-thirty,' Colette chortled. 'And it won't be till after six before dinner is served. You can go over to the ice cream shop and have dessert before your meal. Unless you saw something you'd like to buy.'

Which, as it turned out, Bucky did: a set of blue agate bookends he said his uncle would enjoy. As he brought no luggage with him, he paid for the items and had them sent, via international parcel post, to an address in Mexico. Ro tried playing inquisitor, to inveigle information from him, yet he remained unwilling to share. Ro tugged rather harshly at his ponytail in retaliation, threatening to chop it off while he slept.

They spent a good forty minutes in the ice cream shop, part of that time trying to make up their minds. After gorging on sweets they slipped in and out of countless shops until it was time to head back to Madcap's Magics and Crafts. Colette waited for them, then locked up once they were inside. Aubrey Smart had come, introduced to Bucky, and more speculative, intuitive, about his character than Colette. Aubrey, one came to realise, had the stare capable of making the person on its end feel naked and exposed. Bucky had experienced identical censure occasionally under Ro's insipid blue saucers, and he was unable to give Aubrey the pleasure of estimating his character in that quiet, intrusive way. Aubrey Smart hardly took the caustic vibe personally, already aware of her ability to belittle.

Two additional familiar faces awaited them at the grill catty-cornered from Colette's shop: Nat and Darien, already at the procured table, greeted Bucky in the same friendly manner they'd befriended Zee and Ro with the previous night. Soon after other guests arrived for this impromptu meeting to celebrate Ro's birthday. A well dressed young man hidden behind a cascade of golden hair, the same build as Colette, but stretched in height and shoulder width, kissed his sister on the cheek and laid before the birthday girl a bundle of purple and yellow iris. He gave his name as Jack Ransley, twenty-one years and sufficiently matured mentally. Jack was no stranger to the gathered, though he sat beside his sister, for want of visiting with her during fleeting moments than anything. Ro learned later that they spent little time together; Jack was in Cincinnati for university, and rarely returned to his hometown. Nine was to be the stable number of the party but two additional members joined, two friends of Darien's named Tim and Alexia. They happened to choose that place to eat for the night and spotted Darien as the host meant to take them to a nearby table. With ten members, all jovial and ready to laugh, Ro felt she had the best birthday of recent memory.

An hour into the party, Ro and two of the other women did as all women do in groups. Once in the restroom, Colette talked about how proud she was of herself for putting all of this together, and chattering on about how happy Ro looked, pleased that her new friend could have such a lovely 'turning of the hourglass', to borrow directly from Colette. In the mirror, Colette examined her face in the poor lighting, droopy strands of pink amid her lightened gold tresses teased to the epitome of expression, quiet for once while listening to Alexia's comments on the fineness of the cuisine. Ro emerged from the stall, thinking nothing at all, when she rose her gaze to her reflection in the mirror— She gasped—

Alexia and Colette spun to her. Ro, momentarily frozen, peeled brave eyes back to the mirror— Nothing but herself, Alexia, and Colette were there.

'I just thought I—I saw something,' said Ro dismissively. 'Never mind. Let's go.'

But when Colette and Alexia walked ahead, silently speculating on Ro's exhaustion, Ro lingered three steps behind. She stared into the empty restroom, waiting for a suspicion to be fulfilled. All that answered was an unsettling, wavy feeling in the bottom of her stomach. She panicked, quieted her wandering imagination, and returned to the table. Her night was spoiled. A sickness cloyed the air. At first, Ro thought she imagined it, but then Darien rubbed her brow and announced she wasn't feeling very well. When she and Nat exited, everyone's spirits seemed to wilt and wane. As Ro and Zee left, with Bucky behind them, Ro observed the others in the restaurant, her stomach weaving in and out of nausea. Every table she passed sombre faces sat, unmoving lips, limited gestures. Spooked, Ro took hold of Zee's hand and would not let go of it until returned to her motel room. Arlene, the chatelaine, had been in to turn down the corner of the bed and lay out fresh lavender adorned with three daisies. The petals cheered Ro significantly.

'That was—weird,' Bucky eventually said, sitting at the only chair by the small circular table. 'What just happened?' He looked at Ro. 'You felt it. I know you did.'

'I did feel lit. Like something in the air just changed. Something—something bad.'

'Malevolent,' Bucky added. 'Evil. I feel better now. But it's just like, for those ten minutes, the planets and stars aligned just right, just enough, so that malignancy was born into the world. I've never felt like that before.'

Zee listened intently, worried for his two friends. While he could feel the elements much stronger than he ever had in his life, he could not feel this particular brush of evil. 'I noticed the change in the persons around us, but I noticed no change in the atmosphere.'

Ro pulled off her sandals as she spoke. 'When I went into the bathroom with Colette and Alexia—I thought I saw something in the mirror. I don't know what it was. A mist, kind of. But it had eyes—kind of. It was all white, pure, pure white, like light. And its eyes were red marks, endless red marks, notched or sewn—but something was wrong with them. I knew whatever it was, it was watching me—but I also knew it was blind. It saw me, though—and I saw it. . .'

For a while no one said anything. Then, abruptly, Bucky was on his feet. A sympathetic pat was left on Ro's knee. 'I think I'd better go find a place to sleep.'

Ro told him, 'You can have Zee's room. He never sleeps on the bed.'

'You don't mind?' Bucky questioned Zee. The synthoid shook his head, expression altered slightly from innocent to slightly bewildered. Bucky, too tired to be told twice, slid between the rooms, mumbling his goodnights and another happy birthday to Ro. He'd gone when Zee took a languid seat on the bed, next to Ro.

'You didn't feel anything, did you?' she asked, wiggling on her stomach so that her head and shoulders were beside him. 'I can tell you didn't.'

'Not being human, I might've been immune to whatever phenomenon occurred. Perhaps an extra surge in electromagnetic energy. It's said to make people act sluggish and torpid. My sensors certainly would have informed me if an odd rise of EMF happened—and I'm afraid I received no such reading. Do you feel better now?'

'Yeah. Still a little scared of what I saw in the mirror. Suppose we should tell Dr Smart? He's the parapsychologist.'

'It ought to be considered, sure.' He waited, regarding Ro, she regarding him, and wondered if she would sense the question before he asked.

Ro sighed and put her chin against her wrists. 'You've been dying to ask me all day, so go ahead. I know you want to.'

He was relieved she brought up the subject, because he wouldn't have dared. 'Have you given any further consideration to staying here indefinitely?'

Although knowing she'd be asked, and given hours to think about it, Ro let the potential finality of her answer emphasise the decision dramatically. She turned a shoulder, then her hips, and was on her back, a lean hand beneath a head of wild hair. She knew Zee watched her in that yawning intensity of his.

'I've thought about it. All day—I've thought about it. Assuming we can avoid any more EMP—'

'EMF,' Zee corrected.

'Whatever readings, and assuming that Dr Smart isn't lying to us—although it'll be too late by the time we find out he is . . . then I think we should stay. Only for a month or so, though, all right? If we don't hear anything from Andrea Donoso by the first of June, we're so out of here.'

'That is a very good decision.'

'Come on, Zee, you knew I'd eventually say yes.'

'No,' he lifted his brow and gave a slight shake of his head, emoting, 'no, I had no idea what you'd choose. You're an unpredictable dryad, Ro, in this place perhaps more than any other. One can believe in dryads in a place like this.'

Ro wasn't sure. A chill crossed her shoulders, wondering again at the oddity in the mirror. She'd seen plenty of anomalies since befriending Zee and wandering the country, but none that bordered spooky. 'It's nice having friends. It was weird celebrating my birthday with seven other people we didn't know two days ago but that I felt like I've known for years. Hey,' she threw him an accusing look, with no sign of a tease in it, 'you never got me a present.'

'I know,' he frowned slightly. 'I'll work on that.'

'It's okay. You did get that new holographic emitter installed. And I guess it works pretty well. I've seen you touching things all day, and smiling into the wind.' Experimenting, Ro used her forefinger to poke Zee in the arm, near the shoulder, and the exterior held the facility of plain old cotton cloth, the illusion of his shirt, until reaching a further illusion of flesh and muscle beneath. Ro dropped her hand, impressed by this new witchery. In a sudden flash of inspiration, Ro darted from her lounge and turned off the glary light above the table. The room was eaten by darkness.

'Whoa, cool!' exclaimed Ro, seeing only Zee's darkness in the black. 'Usually you glow. Really, really glow. Like moonlight behind and eclipse. But not anymore.' She returned to him, using her memory of the room as a guide, and found his shoulder beneath her hand. He stayed motionless. 'And that's another thing. For the past couple of days you've been avoiding me like I've got the bubonic plague or something.'

Zee's head dipped down. 'Bucky told me you'd noticed.'

'Well, he's very perceptive.'

'He said the same of you.'

'That's flattering and kind of creepy. So why have you been avoiding me?'

'I wasn't avoiding you, Ro. Just avoiding touching you.'

'Because I have the plague.'

'No. I wouldn't get the plague even if you did have it.'

'At first, you know, I wasn't going to ask you about it. I figured it was some other thing you were fighting through. But then, stupid me, I started taking it personally. I thought it might be me, that there was something wrong with me. You've touched me a thousand times since we've known each other, and twenty or so in just the last week, all on your own. But you won't let me touch you. Why, then? Why are you doing this, and why am I paranoid about it?'

Never in his life was he more glad for the dark. He could see her perfectly, standing directly in front of him, authoritative, remarkable, resplendent in the dim. Try as she might, she was unable to see his features so clearly. He knew why humans favoured the dark and worshipped the night. It hid complexity beneath its own feazed wings, allowing uncommon passions to fly away unfettered till morning.

'Why?' Ro persisted, knowing the answer hid in him, bidden and welcome. 'Tell me.'

At the last syllable, Zee bound to his feet, in the small space between the edge of the bed and Ro. He told himself he could do this, he could say this—he could do this. He kept telling himself that.

'Because I want to know you, Ro.'

Ro didn't know whether to growl or snicker. She settled for neither. 'I don't get it. You do know me.'

'In mind and spirit, yes, I do know you. But there's more to you. The parts of you that I will never be—that I'm unable to be.' He barely had to move for his fingers to grasp her wrist, his hand moving up her forearm, across her collarbone, and lightly down between her breasts, halting over her heart, until he separated from her.

Ro's mind moved rapidly, absorbingly. Though she begged herself not to step away, Zee couldn't have spoken plainer if he'd used actual words. 'I see . . . And Bucky told you I was uncomfortable with this.'

'He said I should ask you about it, tell you. It might make me feel better.'

'Better,' she repeated, a light-headedness coming upon her from the quick, painful pounding of blood through her ears. 'Are you jealous?'

He nodded, as though she saw it in the dark. 'Yes. Of everything on this earth that touches you, from the wind to rain and all the dust between you and me right now.'

A slithering trill ignited deep in the centre of her. She threw her hands behind her, to keep them from shaking, and put all her strength into keeping her knees from buckling. In the weight of a second, options and consequences observed, Ro inched a bare foot forward. With less dust between them, there was now less jealousy. The thrill of touching Ro brought forth all the light and colours of the world. He held her gingerly at the soft curve of her hips. Ro leaned into him, melding his light with her energy. His friend's breath tickled his neck, his chin, slipping against his lips.

'What happens now?' he asked quietly, his mouth brushing hers.

'I don't know,' Ro said, adding an uncertain huff of laughter. 'I don't know. I'm not really experienced in this. Let alone . . . you know . . . with you.'

'If you'd rather—'

'I don't want to be anywhere else. Ever again. I think we'd better just trust our instincts. I'll trust mine. You trust yours.'

'Absolutely not. I will, however, trust yours. I just want to be inside—'

Ro ate his words, pushing against him with her willing body. Responsive to her warmth and his newfound tactility, he thought that, just maybe, instinct was as much a part of him as Ro.

He had no idea where to go or what to do. The light had gone out of the room, but light had become every particle between them. Ro lingered around him as immaterial divinity; she was no longer flesh and bone.

'You are the lamp of a thousand careless stars.'

The words were lost in a nape of warmth and a tendril of hair. She heard only the whispers of desire. The thin barrier between sex and modesty slipped from her shoulders and was lost to the terribly alone ground. Ro noticed it leaving her, the wall reduced to a bundle of cloth, and knew sorrow for the darkness. She returned to her illuminated god. His hands reached for and found tucked away, unseen places. Chasms and mountains flattened to quivering plains of heat and scent against him. He tasted the world.

'No wind has my envy tonight.'

She smiled as she held him, her own contented element conforming to an unfamiliar shape. 'Envy me instead. Outside and inside. Envy me.'

A restless moan answered unfinished thoughts of envy. The fiery being beneath him shone with all the colourful emblems of wonder and elation. He was half fearful of this new Ro, a undiscovered animal, part fairy and part woman. He feared frightening her into the thicket of torture, far from the secure eyries where he longed to lift her. His hand trailed along an outward road, wound about a knee, and found a darkened, interior path to a dusky hollow. Inaudible, unversed pleas came from parted lips on airless breaths. What this little creature craved he would not provide. Ceaseless patience were rewarded by solicits whined and prayers whimpered. A sylph possessed Ro's form and trembled in luxury.

As the last of her breath expelled from her, when she knew her soul suffocated, all returned in a magical flow of life. Moon and sun joined harmoniously, encasing them in delicate radiance. Four winds blew at the corners of their kingdom, and met with the battling mistral gale, impenetrable and gallant. He dove into a being that had thrown aside deteriorating masks and shown him knowledge of lost ages. This discovery of her was filled with earthly visions passing through a fertile imagination. He knew her as a garden of roses, honey, peaches, all touched by the clear drops of heaven's sweetest dew.

He lifted from the maze of her nectar, the mystery savoured after revelation. She meant meaningful poems to him before, but now she was the meaning behind all. Her mouth was found again, so she might share his wisdom. 'You are the meaning of light, Ro . . . And I am akin to the winds of the west.'