Wow, Of Gumshoes and Moonlighters reached it's 1000th hit last week. Yay! Sad that this event is celebrated, oh well... Once more, thank you to all my readers and reviewers. I really hope you all enjoy this post because it was among my favorite to write. I had to re-write it a few times to do the scene justice but I'm thinking I finally got it right. Tell me what you think when you review.

Disclaimer: Balkoth does not own the Teen Titans, mustard, NASA, libraries, television, monks, the water that gets in your ear and refuses to go away, the state of Ohio, cars, computers, keyboards, gnats, snakes, the dancing Santa Claus' that sing carols off key, paperweights, bubble wrap, ice-cream, cellphones, or nuclear launch codes. If you own any of these things and want to sell them, PM me.

The Puppeteer

Terrific! She had just spoken to two private investigators. That wasn't good. The last thing Rachel needed was to speak to people that might be looking for her. She'd only taken two things but there was going to be more. There had to be more. Otherwise, Blood would just stay secretive. It was amazing really: Rachel was trusting somebody who worshipped the root of all evil to follow through on a promise.

Rachel pulled the purple rental into the apartment's parking lot. If Taloose had been in Rachel's room earlier, he would have left by now to get some sleep. After all, it wasn't as if she could disappear overnight. He'd be able to catch her tomorrow and Borne Taloose hated losing sleep.

Just to be safe, Rachel entered her room using the fire escape. The room was the same as when she had dashed out that morning except for an indentation on her mattress and mussed sheets where it was obvious her gelatinous landlord had parked his bulk. The dresser was still in one piece, all the drawers securely closed. That was important. The lights were off and piles of dirty clothes were collecting in the hamper next to the window.

Rachel went over to her dresser and pulled the top drawer out. The poorly crafted pinewood finally came loose after the second tug. This particular drawer was for her socks but the real objective was beyond the dresser. Rachel reached her hand through the drawer's space to the wall behind. There was a custom-made hole in the wall, concealed by the dresser. Inside the hole there was a tiny red gem the size of a marble.

Rachel unwrapped the granite she'd brought up. For something so old and, supposedly, evil, the artifact was very pretty. Rachel placed the marble inside of the column's indentation for better storage before moving to put the two back in their hiding place.

"Greetings Mortal." Rachel almost dropped the stone when the deep booming voice cut through the silence that had preceded it. It seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Hello?" Rachel wasn't quite sure what was going on and responded slowly, uncertainly.

"There is much pain in you." It wasn't a question. How could it be when you had a voice like that? This person, this thing, spoke with the authority that came with knowing everything. "Complete a few tasks for me and I can give you what you want."

Rachel looked around warily. Who or what was talking to her and how could they deliver on that promise? Rachel didn't want a lot. Rachel wanted the impossible. "And what exactly," Rachel spoke to the room in general, "do you think I want?"

"Family. You have lost someone valuable to you. You wish to be a child again and see your mother once more. Serve me, I can give you what you long for."

"And who would I be serving?" Rachel plucked out the red stone and talked to it. The voice didn't answer but Rachel was swarmed by darkness and felt her sense of direction fall away into nothingness. She was dizzy, quickly becoming nauseous, and struggled to see beyond the curtain of gloom pressed over her eyes. It was hot, as if she was floating in an oven. Finally, Rachel's eyes focused on the only thing not sheathed in black. There were four blood red eyes looking at her and from those eyes, slowly, a body followed.

Rachel was looking at something out of one of her old picture books. She'd never actually thought she'd see this… thing. For all of her pent up anger toward supreme entities, she'd never really thought that they existed. Yet, how could she argue with what her senses were telling her?

Trigon the Terrible loomed out of the darkness. Deep red, almost maroon skin with strips of black on his chest, legs, and arms – a mockery of an earth zebra. But if Trigon was as old as Rachel thought, then zebras were actually a mockery of him. Two antlers sprouted from his scalp, shooting through a thick mane of white hair. To top off his exotic appearance, he had claws instead of fingernails and stood upright on two hoofed feet. Rachel would be able to fit into one of his outstretched hands and killed by a flicked finger.

"You know me. And I know you." The demon reached out a hand and Rachel felt the shadow mass under her solidify as the creature conjured some semblance to a floor and gravity. Then, Trigon moved to pick up Rachel, something that did more than intimidate her.

"What do you want from me?" Rachel's voice was shakier than she would have liked. Trigon only chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that could crumble stone, as he lifted Rachel up to eye level.

"What I want does not matter to you nor is it pertinent. My desires and ambitions pale in comparison to your own. Help me obtain my objectives and reach yours in turn."

"How could you help me get my mother back? You're a demon, isn't what I want out of your power?"

Rachel could tell that she had offended him. Not a smart idea. "Foolish girl. When it is said that I am all powerful, it means that nothing is beyond my reach." If his laugh could crumble stone, the tone he used now could reach out and latch onto hearts– squeezing them until they refused to beat. "But you seek proof of good faith. Understandable, from one whose mind has been poisoned by mortal logic and philosophy. You are, after all, a flawed breed." Trigon's voice lightened until it could be assumed that the demon was actually amused.

"You wish for proof of my power," Trigon used the hand that wasn't holding Rachel to drag one massive claw through the swirling mass of shadows everywhere. Where the claw touched, a swirling red and orange portal opened. A few seconds after the claw passed, the portal calmed and Rachel could see her world. Just a regular street, with regular people, going about their regular lives. Why did it feel so eerily familiar then?

Trigon lowered his hand to the portal, close enough that Rachel could jump into it. "Take your proof." Rachel looked over her shoulder once before jumping into the street.

Rachel's feet hit solid concrete and she stumbled a little trying to regain her balance. While Rachel was balancing, she ran into one of the many people rushing along Jump City's streets to their jobs. "Watch it," the man she had collided with barked as he brushed past her and into a pastry shop.

Rachel looked at the shop's name. Aunt Teresa's Kitchen. Rachel smiled after seeing the pastry shop. She'd come here a lot as a kid with whatever spare change she'd been able to scrounge up. The building looked like something out of "Hansel and Gretel," with its bricks painted to look like it was made out of candy. Just as quickly, the smile slid off of Rachel's face, oil off of saran wrap. Aunt Teresa's Kitchen had been destroyed fourteen years ago. The crash that had killed her mother had also sent Teresa's up in flames.

Rachel turned; horror dancing in her eyes, as she searched for two cars she knew would be there shortly. Rachel stood stock-still, watching, waiting. People were moving around her, unaware that many of them were about to witness a fiery explosion that would scar Rachel for life.

Rachel finally regained control of body and the first thing she did was scream. A bloodcurdling shriek without words, holding nothing but fear and pain. "Let me out! Let me out!" Unshed tears welled up in Rachel's eyes. They wouldn't be unshed for long.

"Mommy," Rachel heard a small boy ask, "what's wrong with that lady?" Rachel couldn't see it through the water in her eyes but it was easy to invision the little child pointing at her, despite being told countless times that pointing was rude, and the mother avoiding the question while ushering her child away from somebody who seemed completely crazy.

"Make it stop," Rachel whispered as tears trailed down her face and she collapsed onto her knees. She wanted proof that her mother could be brought back, not proof that Trigon could let her see her mother again. She didn't want to see her mother die. She had been in school when it happened and lucky enough to not be exposed to the details. She didn't want to see what was about to happen.

"You don't want to see your mother again." The scene melted away and Rachel was in Trigon's hand once more. "You want your mother to see you. Bringing back the dead is no small task. But it is something I can do. Not yet though. My control over events in the mortal plain is limited."

"How can I help?" Rachel asked without thinking about it. Rachel Roth wanted to be a child again, to have her mother usher away all the things that were wrong with the world. Anybody that could promise her that won out over Blood and his information.

Next Update: Wednesday, August 9, 2006