Well, what a joyous day! The dividers are working again after many weeks of the dreaded emboldened X's. I'm in a fairly good mood. Now, I'm assuming that about ninety percent of this audience has seen the new Teen Titans movie. I won't spoil anything for the people who have yet to see it but I am looking forward to working with some of that new material in future works. That said, the movie wasn't that good in my view. I'm not talking about some of the personal opinion issues that seem to have been stirred up by some of the content in the movie. I'm talking about how forced it felt. A movie created because a loyal fan base demanded it. The quality wasn't very good, in so far as plot. There were some touching moments but really, some of the scenes were just so ridiculous. Sad that they had to go out on such a note as that. ( If you haven't seen it yet; you should. My opinion is only worth so much.) Where the show has not yet tread, the members of the fanfiction community can take their readers on magical journies. Anyway, here we have another post of Of Gumshoes and Moonlighters. We know what Richard and Garfield know; now its time to see what The Raven knows.

Disclaimer: Balkoth does not own the Teen Titans. It could happen, but I doubt it will. The plot and OC's are mine. The cannon characters are not. Clear?

The Inheritance

It turns out that The Raven knew just as much as Logan and Grayson about the last artifact. At first, Richard had been right. The Raven had been in the dark. She had gotten lucky and wasn't in the dark anymore. Rachel had been hiding out in Miguel's apartment after her date with Richard. Earlier the same day, Richard had entered his office to find Garfield asleep on his desk. Her visit had become metaphorical gold when the phone rang. Rachel had been sitting cross-legged on a weathered brown couch jotting down poetry in a notebook. Miguel's apartment was pretty small and his occasional interjections of "uh ha" or "yes" traveled well through the three-room apartment.

As Rachel continued to write, Miguel's voice started to rise. Rachel stopped her pen after finishing a stanza and threw a skeptical look toward the door that led to her friend. This phone call sounded different from what Rachel had expected. All of the conversations Rachel had heard between Miguel and his family had ended in shouting matches. Since Miguel only gave the number to family members, this call seemed out of place. The conversation wasn't the right volume and it sounded more amazed than angry. Something was up.

Just as Rachel was unfolding her legs and placing down her notebook; Miguel bounded into the room wearing a smile that should have split his face. The boy was bouncing on the balls of his feet and was currently the epitome of euphoria. "Somebody died?" Rachel asked with a dry smile, poking fun at Miguel's current attitude.

Miguel's smile faltered for a second before springing back onto his face. "Sí," he said with only the tinniest trace of grief seeping into his tone. "Tuvé grande tía, Maricarmen. Ella esta muerto."

"Speak English, Miguel," Rachel sighed after trying to translate for a moment. Miguel and Rachel had been sparring with each other through language ever since they met. Both had learned something but Rachel sometimes had difficulty grasping everything Miguel said, especially when he said it so quickly.

"My great aunt died."

Rachel would have normally felt awful after learning that one of her scathing remarks was true. Miguel didn't seem upset so she pushed aside her guilt for later. Rachel quirked an eyebrow at Miguel. "Is that the good part?"

Miguel rolled his eyes and tucked his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. "I didn't even know I had a great aunt! I've never met her!" Miguel started pacing in tight circles and Rachel was forcibly reminded of a trapped animal. She should have been used to it: Miguel always paced when he was doing a lot of thinking. Regardless of how well it helped Miguel think, Rachel always felt uneasy about it.

"Whoever she was," Miguel continued, unaware that he was, yet again, causing Rachel discomfort, "she left me a lot."

Rachel leaned back against the couch. "That's wonderful, Miguel." If there was anybody who needed a break in life it was Miguel. The boy was nineteen and disowned by his family. He deserved this.

"You don't get it," Miguel stopped his pacing and looked at Rachel. "I don't want it. I'm not always happy with how my life has turned out but at least I know that I've earned it." Miguel started pacing again and withdrew his hands from his pockets so that he could wave them in the air. "The woman left me money I haven't earned and old heirlooms that I don't want."

Something in Rachel stirred as she heard that. It wasn't something of Rachel. While Trigon the Terrible had said that his control over the mortal plain was limited, the demon hadn't wasted any time staking out a little piece of Rachel's mind so that he could keep tabs on her. Usually, the demon stayed quiet. When he didn't, Rachel was made painfully aware of it. When the demon commented on her life, her friends, her date, all he said was negative. When he commented on their deal and the necessity for her to find the last piece of the artifact, Rachel couldn't hear her own thoughts and that was what was happening now.

"I sense it on him. This mortal child knows where the last piece of my portal is." Trigon's thunderous voice flew through Rachel's mind.

Rachel instantly felt lost and tried to find herself. She wasn't in Miguel's apartment anymore. Her body was there but her mind, her mind was in another plane entirely. The surroundings were blurred. Different nations, different planets, different universes, even different realities all flew about her in a vortex of color, shattering any semblance of normality that may have remained.

"Portal?" a weak voice called in response. It was a sound; just on the edge of hearing and it took a moment for Rachel to realize that the voice was her own.

"The artifacts I have charged you with collecting serve as a focus for my power. When the three are reunited, I will be able to take full form and exercise the full extent of my abilities. Only once I am on the same plane as the deceased may I reanimate the dead," Trigon answered as calmly as he could. Rachel could feel herself growing annoyed and knew that it was only excess from what the demon was feeling.

The voice from before, the quiet unimportant one was raising objections to that. Something about how it was a bad idea to bring the root of all evil into the same plane as innocent people. An image of Arella's smiling face formed in Rachel's mind's eye and quickly banished the voice back to its corner. How could it be a bad idea? Rachel wanted to have a mother again. Trigon was being honest and sincere. He'd fulfill his promise. If Rachel had been paying closer attention to her own emotions, she would have realized that they were being drowned out by Trigon. The demon was overflowing with an emotion too powerful to describe but most closely related to absolute and total malice.

"Ask the boy about the inheritance." The godly voice rumbled into silence and Rachel found herself back in her own body. That wasn't the strange part of it. Miguel was sitting on the couch next to her. In less than a millisecond, Rachel found her mind flooded with memories of how he got there. They'd been talking but Rachel hadn't been in control. Still, the actions and the words were just what she would have said and done.

"You're right, Rachel," Miguel admitted, "I do deserve this. All about karma or whatever else you were talking about."

Rachel picked up the conversation without any problems. She remembered everything leading up to this. Rachel didn't even know that she hadn't been in control. "You said earlier that you've already picked out a place to build a house?"

"No. Not really. There are a few places that I've seen and liked in the past. Now that I can actually do something about it, I think I could find a little space to set up a house."

Both Rachel and Miguel jumped when loud banging shot through the apartment. "Roth! Get out here right now!" The banging started up again and Rachel sunk down into the couch cushions. Miguel just laughed and smirked at Rachel.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Miguel asked between the rapid-fire knocking.

"When you were sleeping on my couch with a broken arm?" Rachel responded with a fake show of having a hard time remembering.

"That one," Miguel nodded. The words weren't heard over Taloose's attempts to break down the door but the nod conveyed the point. "I seem to remember telling you that I owed you huge." In response to Rachel's nonplused look he finished; "How about I help you out with our lovely landlord?"

Rachel smiled wryly. "You would do that?"

"Sure, why not?" Miguel responded with a shrug. "You are one of the nicest people I have ever met and I owe you. The roly-poly out there wants to steal what little money you have and run you out onto the streets."

"I'd appreciate it, Miguel. I really would," Rachel half-shouted over the sound of Taloose's renewed assault. "I'm not quite sure if you would be making up the debt I owe you or putting me into your debt."

"Really?" Miguel laughed while scribbling out a check that he could pay, for once. "There are two things you could help me with."

Rachel arched a delicate eyebrow and snatched the check away. "What?"

"You minored in architecture, didn't you? You designed your club. I was wondering if you could help me design this new house and give me a realistic estimate." In response to Rachel's questioning look, Miguel pointed to his arm. More specifically, the color of his arm. Racism was alive and well in parts of California and Miguel wanted to have a figure before entering negotiations to make sure he wasn't being had. "I could also use some financial advice on investing."

"Count me in." In the back of Rachel's mind, Trigon stirred. If Rachel designed the building, she would know where everything was. Artifacts included.

Next Update: Wednesday, September 27, 2006