AUTHOR'S NOTE: After a six month hiatus, I come bearing fluff.

"Charlie?" There was a rattle. A little scream of static. The phone was hot and heavy in Harley's hand. Its coral pink cord stuck like flypaper to her sore arms and legs. All mummied up in pastel curls, Harley strained her ears after the low drone of her sister's voice. "Charlie, I—"

"You what?" her words were rough. Wracked with sleep and cough syrup, they clipped in and out of the white noise like a deer through the underbrush. Harley could hear an electric fan rattling in the background, and the city-sounds of Danford pouring in through some open window.

"I need your help."

Blankets rustled and a cat began to purr near the receiver. There was a rattle and clink, a muttered curse and muffled sigh. Charlie's voice was clearer now, all focused and dry like usual. "What happened?"

Harley leaned against the counter. Staring up at the ceiling, she counted the heartbeats trapped beneath her bloody fingernails. "The Marflys happened," she said. "And Terry Berber, I guess. Don't know why that boy's mixing with Connie's lot. Didn't his brother deck their daddy last fall?"

"Last spring, actually."

"Mhmm . . . last spring."

"Honey, you sound funny."

"Yeah?" Harley rubbed her face, feeling dirt and sweat grind between her palm and cheek. "Listen, Charlie . . . I ran them off a Ra'zac today."

"A Ra'zac? Wh-"

"They weren't at school. Not even in the courtyard 'round lunchtime. I didn't like it—didn't sit right—so I stopped by the dusterly after sixth period. Sure enough, all three of 'em were there . . . all three of 'em and this Ra'zac. They had him tied up, Charlie; all tied up with barbed wire. Hell, they don't even treat animals that way, and you saw what they did to Alison's dog."

"Harley . . ."

"They'd already beat the shit out of him by the time I got there. A'course Terry bolted and Jean went off after him, so it was just me an' Connie." Harley's voice trembled just a little. She swallowed hard and Charlie waited. "She was saying some godawful stuff, sis. Classic Connie, yeah? Well, she kicked up a fight, and I uh . . . I got her with my knife, Charlie."

"Christ, Harley!" floorboards creaked. Harley could picture her real easy, like some people got to picturing promises or possibilities. She probably had that wrinkly Ghostbusters t-shirt hanging off of her shoulder, her bare feet pacing tight circles in that tiny, cluttered bedroom. "Where's she now?"

"St. Johnsons? Or not. Her momma's got that Jo-Ann sewing kit she's so proud of. Connie's just another reason to use it."

"And the Ra'zac?"

"I've got him in my room. My sheets are dark, and I figure the blood won't stain 'em so bad if they get washed right away."

"Har-"

"Hey, put yourself in my shoes. I would've set him in the bathroom, Charlie, but c'mon . . . that's no way to wake up." Harley sighed and picked at the hem of her bloodstained shirt. Little flakes of it fell onto the white tile floor, looking like a pile of dead ants. "Before he passed out on me, he was bawling, Charlie. Who knows what'll happen when he comes to? Either way, it'll be easier to calm him down in a bed than a bathtub."

There was silence, and then the sound of clothes hitting the floor. "Whatever you say, Hars. I'll be there in an hour, maybe two if the back roads got rained on." Charlie shifted the phone from one ear to the other. "How bad is it?"

"I ain't no doctor, but in my professional opinion, he looks like hell. They cracked his chest and face with Jean's baseball bad—y'know the one."

"Unfortunately."

"He's missing a big chunk of beak on the right side, and a bunch of teeth too. They were all over the ground when I got there, like someone broke a beer bottle against the shed."

"That all?"

"Not hardly. Connie must've had a screwdriver or somethin else, 'cause the kid's also missing an eye." Harley fought back a snarl, pushing the memory down where it couldn't reach her. "There's a lot of blood, Charlie. I found some gauze in the medicine cabinet, but he's probably soaked through it by now."

"We can do better when I get there."

"Damn straight."

Charlie laughed, short and sharp. "I'm gonna let you go now, Harley. Get up there and sit with him 'till I come home, but be careful; he might be a little disoriented when he wakes up. Just keep him hydrated and talk low, if you have to talk at all."

Harley stood slowly, her muscles crying out. Leaning on the kitchen counter, she watched the curled tail on Heidi's cat clock swing back and forth. "Thanks, Lee," she said, and her eyelids fluttered as she traded adrenaline for exhaustion. "I'll see you soon?"

"You'll see me soon. Love ya, Hars."

"Mhmm, love ya."

Harley dropped the phone back in its cradle and cracked her aching back. After a moment of staring at nothing in particular, she shrugged off her jacket and draped it over one of the kitchen chairs. Warm air tickled the back of her neck as she took the side hallway down to her bedroom. Harley paused at the wooden door, her hand on the knob and her ear to the center panel. Nothing could be heard but the ticking kitchen clock. Biting her bottom lip, Harley opened the door slowly, gently, like she did when playing tooth fairy for the triplets. The window at the end of the hallway cast a wedge of quicksilver light into the room beyond.

Harley poked her head in, ignoring the lamp standing sentinel near the doorway. "Kid?" only breathing, wet and labored, answered back. "Still asleep." she thought, and slipped inside.

Harley clicked the door shut behind her and leaned against it, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she maneuvered her way past piles of laundry and stacks of papers until she stood near her bedside. The Ra'zac lay on top of her sheets, his arms and legs tangled up in their swirly patterns. Harley might've smiled, had his soft snoring not sounded so painful. Scrubbing a hand through her hair, she kicked out a foot and hooked one of her stools by memory. Dragging it past several discarded pencils with a quiet rattle, she plopped down on it and leaned forward, resting her arms on the edge of the bed.

For the second time that night, Harley took his hand in hers. "I'll be right here," she promised. The Ra'zac coughed, spraying her pillowcase with little freckles of blue blood. Harley's chest tightened, and so did her grip. "Right here."

Harley hadn't meant to fall asleep. One moment, she was counting cracks on the Ra'zac's face, and the next, she was dreaming of old, distant things. Ten minutes, maybe twelve, passed before the smell of blood cut through her dreams like a red hot knife. Harley sucked in a lungful of it, and her eyes shot open.

"Wha?" she mumbled, and the Ra'zac answered with a tired mutter of his own. Harley went to sit up, and then stopped real quick, her heart hammering. The Ra'zac's arms were wrapped around her shoulders, his head wedged firmly in the crook between her cheek and arm. Blood and breath glued the two of them together. "Shit . . ."

The Ra'zac twitched and chattered softly. Harley deciphered "bed" and "sleep" before he switched to English. "N-no ma. Can't I . . . can't I sssleep with you . . . tonight?" Harley hesitated and the Ra'zac groaned. "Pleassse, ma? Mar . . . Mar's mad at . . . me . . . . again."

Harley's eyes darted left and right, desperately searching for a means of escape. When none presented themselves and the Ra'zac began to fidget, she accepted a tentative defeat. "Alright," she whispered, trying real hard to sound like her own mother, whose voice she could hardly remember. In the gloom, her eyes picked out a nametag on the Ra'zac's oil stained uniform. It was crumpled and dark, but still legible. The filthy white stitching read: Elijah. "Move over, Eli," she said softly.

The Ra'zac let out a long sigh and rolled onto his side. His hand tugged on Harley's wrist until she all but fell after him. Crickets chirped outside as Elijah nestled her into a tangle of blankets and limbs. He was so much bigger than she was, his arms and legs weighing down on her like iron bars. Harley struggled with a dull edge of panic as his beak buried itself against her neck, but after the initial fear subsided, she simply lay there, listening to his sleep-talk and feeling her clothes grow heavy with blood.

After a while, Harley's weariness returned with a vengeance. Yawning, she draped her arm over the Ra'zac's bony shoulder and rested her head against his. What would happen when he woke up? What would happen when Charlie came home? Probably nothing good, but Harley wasn't much of a worrier.

"It'll be fine," she thought. Elijah mumbled something about laundry detergent, and Harley drifted off smiling. "Probably."