A/N: Once again, I'm sorry this took so long to update, but this story has grabbed me and won't let me go this time. Hopefully I can keep this up.

Meeting Lamont Cranston

I woke up to the feeling of bright sunshine dancing in my room. My head began to throb and burn. It felt like somebody was banging the inside of my head with a five hundred pound mallet. What's going on? I thought as I got up. Ugh…I needed something for my head. I went into the bathroom and got out some aspirin for my headache.

As the medicine sank in, I looked at the clock. It read a quarter to one. The courier would be here by two for the Shadow…while I had told him the night before that I had nothing to report, I decided to write a quick message for him, just in case he was watching.

But first, a bubble bath was in order…something to sink into and relieve this monstrosity of a headache.

Lamont stood outside the brownstone, scratching the head of his golden retriever, Khan. He had felt Marguerite slowly awaken over an hour before, having kept a distant eye on her psyche during the first part of the morning. Part of him still felt a little bad for her. He should've known that she would've snapped physically after all of the stress she had been under.

But there was more to his reasoning for being there. Underneath his arm was a copy of that morning's newspaper. The headliner story: BODIES OF TWO RADIO ACTORS PULLED FROM HUDSON BAY. Attached were the photographs of Walter and Annie Lane. There was also another picture of their missing daughter; Marguerite Lane.

Reflecting on her actions yesterday, he realized that she wasn't acting like somebody who had lost their parents. To the best of his knowledge, Margo and her family were very close. He wondered if something deep inside of her mind was keeping her from thinking of her parents' murder.

Some type of mental defense, maybe?

Maybe a reminder of what she lost would convince her to work with him as opposed to against him…

With his plans in mind, he had hooked up Khan for the walk. Eighteen blocks wasn't far, maybe half an hour. The dog was happy to go out, having missed his long walks with his master.

A bicycle courier arrived. Lamont recognized him as one of his messengers assigned to Burbank. No doubt it was to pick up a note for the Shadow.

I had finished sealing up the envelope when the doorbell rang. "Coming." I said, holding my envelope tightly and adjusting my blonde wig. Standing outside was a young boy dressed as a courier. He had the familiar ring on his hand. But to be sure…"Today is a lovely day."

"But it seems I've forgotten my umbrella." He said seamlessly, holding up a package of roses and a note. "I've got a package for you, Miss."

"And I've got something for you." I said, trading my little envelope for the bouquet. "Oh and before I forget. Keep the change." I passed him a quarter.

"Thank you, Miss." He said, tipping his newspaper cap. The boy hurried off, putting the envelope in his bag. That's when I noticed Lamont Cranston standing outside. He was dressed in a nice blue-gray suit with a matching fedora. At his side was a large brown golden retriever. Under his arm was a newspaper.

"Hi." I said, a little shyly.

"Good morning." Cranston said, a nice smile on his face. "Didn't I see you last night at the Cobalt Club?"

"Yep, you did." I said, stepping outside. "I'm Kitty Welles. I trust you're Lamont Cranston?" Cranston shook my hand and nodded. He seemed pretty nice, I thought as I studied his soft blue eyes and blond hair. Cranston radiated confidence and a gentle nature. I noticed his dog. "Cute dog."

"Thanks, his name's Khan." Lamont said. "You can pet him, he's nice."

"Khan?" I asked as I rubbed his head and the back of his neck. The dog groaned and began scratching his side in delight. "A very kingly name."

"It's used as an honorific title." Cranston said.

I noticed that it was getting very hot outside. Feeling safe, I decided to invite him in. "Would you two like to come in, Mr. Cranston and get something to drink? It's pretty warm outside." I asked.

"Actually, that would be very nice. Thank you very much." He said. "And please, call me Lamont."

"Only if you call me Kitty."

Lamont sat down at the kitchen table as Marguerite put the roses into a vase before straightening out her light blue dress. He had noticed that Marguerite had moved some things around, making the kitchen more open and homier. Part of him liked it. "What would you like to drink, Mr. Cran…sorry, I mean Lamont?" She asked as she filled a bowl with cool water for Khan, putting it in front of the dog. "I've got water, milk, lemonade…"

"Some lemonade would be nice and thank you." Lamont said. She prepared the lemonade from a pitcher she had ready in the fridge. Now to distract her long enough for him to put the newspaper on the table. "Have you been in the Big Apple for long?" Lamont asked as she poured out the glasses. He carefully put the newspaper on the table, making sure the front page was up where she could see it.

"Born and raised in Long Island. When I was ten, I was shipped off to St. Francis de Sales Academy for Girls in Paris. I just graduated from there, actually. Got back here…oh…I'd say a few days ago." Marguerite said.

"Long enough to make friends?" Lamont asked, pointing to the bouquet of roses. As he did so, he subtly planted a suggestion in Marguerite's mind.

Look down at the table.

"You could say that." Marguerite smiled. Just then, she looked down to see the newspaper.

A dark look crossed Marguerite's face for a moment. He sensed the bottled up grief inside of her threatening to break her psyche apart like a bottle of champagne that had been dropped. Sure enough, the wall he had suspected her of building was beginning to crumble. Marguerite shook the feelings away, a mental cloud covered her thoughts. No doubt a shield to keep herself from breaking apart in front of him.

"Is something wrong, Kitty?" Lamont asked.

Marguerite shook her head, a sad look over her face. But it was a lie. Lamont sensed storm inside of her was getting stronger and stronger, threatening to tear her to shreds. Not that he blamed her for not wanting to talk about it. "Just…been thinking about a lot of things I have to get done today, that's all."

Despite her excuses, Lamont knew that Marguerite was pretending to be the ditzy and bubbly Kitty Welles. He wondered if it was tearing her apart. He could feel her inner conflict beneath the fake smoke.

No matter…his alter ego reminded himself. She would serve her purpose well. And in any case, he needed to give her time for the news to sink in.

"Are you all right, Lamont?" Marguerite asked aloud.

"Hmm?" Lamont asked, broken out of his thoughts. Marguerite looked at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just…" He had to come up with a way to leave without looking suspicious. A meeting…yes…a meeting he just happened to forget about… "What time is it?"

Marguerite checked her watch. "Ten minutes after two. Why?"

"Oh! I forgot! I was planning on meeting up with my uncle in half an hour!" Lamont said, getting to his feet. "I really hate rushing off on you like this."

To be honest, I was relieved. Immensely so. I didn't think I could keep the façade up much longer.

My mental shield was beginning to fall apart. The grief I had successfully kept bottled up for a couple of days was threatening to break loose.

Kitty Welles wasn't supposed to have a care in the world. Her world is always happy and bubbly…even if Margo Lane's world wasn't.

"Hope you have fun with your uncle." I said, escorting Lamont and Khan to the door. "It was very nice to meet both of you."

"Same with you, Kitty." Lamont said, shaking my hand one last time before slipping out. Within minutes, the man and his dog were gone, lost in the New York City shuffle.

Thank God. I thought as I closed the door and slumped against it.

As much as I was liking Lamont, I was glad that he wasn't there to see me cry.

Seeing that newspaper report of Mom and Dad's bodies being pulled from the Bay stirred something deep down inside of me.

A feeling I wanted to run away from.

Maybe I should head to the library and get some books to read…no…that will remind me of the times Dad would sit in his favorite chair, reading Shakespeare aloud.

Or maybe get a newspaper and pastry…no…that'll remind me of Mom solving the crossword puzzles.

The quick tempered but supportive father. The strong-willed but patient mother.

While I played Kitty Welles, I had something to focus on to keep my mind off of the grief that was threatening to swallow me up.

But Margo Lane had nothing. She was nothing but a shy and naïve radio actress that had her life torn away.

I rubbed Mom's opal inlaid ring. The only thing I had left of them.

"I miss you…" I said in a soft voice, feeling my tears fall down my face.

No…there was something I could do. I thought as I rubbed my eyes dry.

I could refocus my efforts on destroying Oscar Conway. He was responsible for my parents dying. I would make him suffer as they no doubt had.

But he was going to be tricky to defeat. He was capable of doing the same things the Shadow was. I thought, remembering how he had taken Dad's service revolver out of my hands with little to no effort.

The exercises the Shadow had me do last night. While he had pushed me to exhaustion…I was feeling stronger now…

In any case, it would keep me so busy that I would have no time to think of them.

Now to find some candles…

The Shadow sat down at his favorite worn out chair deep in the Sanctum. Khan was lying next to the chair, deeply asleep. Burbank's station was silent. None of his agents had sent any word regarding Conway.

Not that it mattered right now. The Shadow thought as he took a deep breath. He needed to see what Marguerite Lane was doing now.

Quieting the psychic noise of the city around him, the Shadow deepened his concentration as he thought of the young woman.

Shy. Naïve. Resourceful. Deep blue eyes. Dark brown hair.

The image came to him out of the fog.

Marguerite Lane was standing inside a circle of unlit candles in her room. She was still wearing the light blue dress so it wasn't a memory.

What's she doing? The Shadow wondered.

Marguerite took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He felt her mental energy buzzing and burning, directed at the candles.

Just like the night before, they spontaneously ignited. A smile crossed Marguerite's face as she opened her eyes. The candles went out without much effort.

She stepped out of the circle. Now what was she doing? The Shadow watched as she added more candles inside the circle. Once again, she stood inside the circle, closing her eyes. Once again, the energy inside her mind buzzed and burned. The circle of candles lit up…as well as a couple more candles she had placed.

He sensed the drive that was burning in her mind…

Justice for Walter and Annie.

Vengeance on Conway.

She was taking the exercises she had used and getting stronger. He realized.

She had taken the bait he had set. Soon enough, the thirst for justice and vengeance would consume her as it did him.

But she had no aspirations for power. For once, he was glad she was naïve as she was. It would surely keep her grounded...not to mention more receptive to her training.

The Shadow laughed. The sound reverberated through the walls of the Sanctum

Marguerite Lane will serve her purpose well.

A/N: So? How is it? I know Margo was acting in an unbelievable fashion…hopefully that explained her bahvior.