Relationship chat

katidid714: “in a relationship with Jason Blatt???” like, Ira’s brother Jason Blatt?
babblingbrook: it’s a kinda long story….
katidid714: omg. I have to know EVERYTHING.
katidid714: when did this start? what’s he like? when do I meet him? how’s Ira feel about this? tell me tell me!
babblingbrook: I’m not telling you EVERYTHING online. my fingers would probably cramp up. and I’m not answering all those questions at once. choose 1.
katidid714: when do I get to meet him?
babblingbrook: ru free Monday around lunch time? we’re meeting somewhere around the U for lunch, and ur welcome to join us.
katidid714: is he a college stu?
babblingbrook: no, graduated 2 years ago. lives in the area. works construction
katidid714: Ira – our Ira – has a bro who works construction?
babblingbrook: I&J have like, nothing in common. besides being good people. But 2 answer another of your questions, Ira is pretty not happy.
katidid714: drama?
babblingbrook: not quite drama, but maybe. we haven’t talked much since Thanksgiving.
katidid714: omg, have you been dating jason since THANKSGIVING? and not telling me?
katidid714: but srsly brook, didn’t you just meet him on thanksgiving too?
babblingbrook: yeah. it was fast. we just clicked, u know?
katidid714: crazy weird. & he’s cute?
babblingbrook: gorgeous. he doesn’t nec look it with a shirt on, but the boy’s got arms and a chest like wow. does a lot of heavy lifting at work all the time.
katidid714: does he have a brain to go with that muscle? or is he good enough not to need 1?
babblingbrook: o, he’s got smarts. not always interested in the same things I am, but he majored in geology & when he gets onto natural earth science stuff it’s hard to get him to shut up.
babblingbrook: he practically gets like a little boy when he starts on about layers of rock and what we can learn about prehistory from colors or minerals or what have you.
babblingbrook: his favorite dessert is baklava bec it reminds him of mica.
katidid714: SO CUTE.
babblingbrook: I know, right?
katidid714: :-D not him, you. ur totally crushing.
babblingbrook: well, if I am it’s because Jason is *awesome.*
katidid714: and things are awkward with Ira?
babblingbrook: grumble.
babblingbrook: I figure he just needs time. That’s what Jason thinks 2, and since he knows Ira better than I do I’m happy to go with it.
babblingbrook: I’m trying to keep communication open, but he’s not ready to talk yet. soon, I hope.
katidid714: want me to put in a good word?
babblingbrook: thx. not yet, but maybe in a couple weeks. when he’s not so mad any more.
katidid714: so is jason a good kisser?
babblingbrook: enough already! you have a telephone. call me if you want details.


(Onward to Chelsea.)

Outbox: sewing needle

Sender: Brook Haupenstaat
To: Chelsea Haupenstaat; Deena Markowitz
Subject: sewing needle

Hiya girls,

One week mark, huh? Hope you’re not feeling homesick. Thanksgiving’s a weird time to be in a new place… I know it was for me. How about you? Supers eat turkey same as everyone else though (unless there are vegetarian supers where you are), so you must have had a good meal.

Sorry I haven’t written much. I thought I’d send a longer update this weekend while I was at my friend Ira’s house, but then something came up and I got seriously distracted. No homework, no emailing, just.... Well, some stories I’ve got to save for in person. ;-)

Besides, you don’t need to hear what I’ve been up to. It snowed a couple of inches. It always snows a couple of inches at Thanksgiving, so big deal. I’m writing papers. You know how the play went already, so I don’t need to write to you about that.

One bit of news I do have is that this week, with no fairy costumes to repair, I went all masochistic and started my NEXT sewing project—your suits. I think I got the measurements right for the skintight undersuit, and what I’ve got so far works with the boots we picked up the weekend before you left. I’m trying to work the chest area so that it’s protective without being bulky, sexy without screaming “jailbait.” It’s a hard line to walk, and it’s probably going to take me a few more days.

I am committed though, and by the end of the week I’ll have a pair of prototypes to mail you—along with some Christmas candy. No, shoot, Deena—you’re Jewish. I’ll send a couple dreidels too. And some of those chocolate coins, right? Is there anything else you want that you can’t get at the T.C.?

Let me know by this, um, Thursday, okay? I really need to be on top of this project, so I can start finals with a clear mind after I send it off. And don’t be afraid to be brutally honest when you get the outfits, k? You complain, I improve.

Take care of yourselves,

Brook

ps—okay, I can’t keep it in after all. I’m dating someone—and he’s uber awesome! Gorgeous, funny, very good with his hands. But I’ll tell you more when you get home.

(See who else is getting everything under control.)

Outbox: Special reconnaissance

Sender: Brook Haupenstaat
To: Kati Foster
Subject: Special reconnaissance

I am writing to you from the inner chambers of the Blatt family household. My attempts to infiltrate the clan appear to be successful, and soon I will join their special ritual meal in honor of the last Thursday in November.

Lol, j/k. I was all ready for Ira’s family to be all crazy weird because of how secretive he is about them, but so far everyone is just normal weird, the way that families always are. (I feel like his brother is just a little bit more than normal weird, but that could just be a really off 1^st impression. I haven’t decided.)

We got in at about 11 this morning. The ride down was nice—listened to a lot of music, sang along, played road trip games. I think Ira’s still a little mad that his mom invited me to Thanksgiving without asking him, but he’s trying real hard not to be rude about it or make me feel like he doesn’t want me there. You know, being his usual nice-guy self.

Ira’s fam lives in the suburbs of Northern Chicago—nice houses built in the 70’s-ish, big yards, all that. We pull into his driveway and there’s this guy—Ira’s brother—shooting hoops at the end of the drive. Ira mutters something like “Here we go,” when he cuts the engine. Absolutely dreading me meeting the family. Really cute. ;-)

I got out of the car just as the brother was about to throw the ball, but I guess I distracted him enough that he aimed too high and accidentally threw it onto the garage roof. He sort of stared at me like an idiot for the next couple seconds, until the ball bounced back on the pavement and Ira got out of the driver’s side.

Ira’s bro is really cute, btw. He looks a lot like Ira, but he’s just a little more buff with some extra sexy on top. (Don’t tell Ira I said that. I’m sure he would hate being told that he’s an unsexy version of Jason!) But when I got out of the car it looked like the guy was just going to stare all day unless I said something to distract him, so I said, “Hi! You must be Jason.”

For some reason he looked surprised by that, like it wasn’t normal that I would be able to guess who he is or something. But it also managed to get him to snap out of whatever was going through his head, because he grinned and he said, “I am Jason. And what’s your name?”

I told him that my name was Brook, and by that time he had walked over to me so he was close enough to shake my hand. He said, “Brook,” in this weird way, like he was testing how it sounded or something. He looked like he was going to burst out laughing any second (playing sports is really good for the endorphins, I guess), and then he said “it’s a pleasure to meet you” in a way that made it sound like he really meant the words. Totally had his flirt on.

Ira groaned from back by the trunk of the car. Next Jason asked something like, “Ira—why have you never introduced me to your friend Brook?” I thought he was laying it on a little thick. I mean, I’m fabulous and all, but this was silly. Ira mumbled something about it not being his job to help Jason meet people, and then they gave crazy eyes to each other for a few seconds before Jason rushed forward and offered to carry my stuff to the guest room.

I would have rather just grabbed it myself, but he got to the trunk before I did and pulled out my suitcase. He carried it like it was full of packing peanuts instead of textbooks. While we were walking to the house Jason said he wanted to “talk” to Ira later, in a way that made it sound like Ira was in trouble. Ira just looked annoyed.

Have I mentioned lately that boys are weird?

Btw, Ira’s house is really cool. His mom collects the most beautiful lawn statues—gnomes (of course), but also a bunch of replicas of woodland creatures that practically look real. There was a stone badger right near the porch that actually made me jump when I saw it. Well, I guess she collects a lot of sculpture in general because inside there were a bunch of pieces on shelves too, a lot of different styles but the best were these incredibly fluid marble pieces that just swirled and undulated in ways you wouldn’t think marble could. When I met her (she’s about 50, very assertive and friendly, my 1^st impression is that she’s nothing like Ira) I asked about the sculptor—because someday when I’m an art dealer, I want this guy’s stuff in my gallery! She wouldn’t tell me anything besides that a family friend made them, and that it’s just a hobby of his. She said that he doesn’t want his name getting out because he doesn’t want to do it for profit. I have got to get in good with this woman and learn more.

I didn’t get to talk to Ira’s mom much so far because Jason has been trying to talk to me and ask me about myself nonstop since I got here. I practically had to sneak away to write to you. Now I’m going downstairs to see if Marsha (Ira’s mom) needs any help getting dinner ready. (I will learn the identity of her sculptor friend!!!) Wish me luck!

I’ll try to write more tonight.

Happy Thanksgiving,

Brook

(What's his deal, anyway?)

Inbox: Thanksgiving dinner

Sender: Marsha Blatt
To: Brook Haupenstaat
Subject: Thanksgiving dinner

Dear Brook,

We’ve never met before, but I’m Ira’s Mom Marsha. Ira doesn’t know that I’m writing to you, but I saw your email address on a list when he sent out the email this summer to me and to all of his friends about taking the trip to San Francisco.

Like I said, Ira doesn’t know that I’m writing you. He had mentioned to me that you don’t have any plans for Thanksgiving, and your family is all going to be out of town. Nobody should be alone on Thanksgiving, so I’m inviting you down. We live in Dearfield Illinois, just north of Chicago. It’s not too far a drive from Minneapolis, and if you keep as busy as Ira it might be nice to get out of the city for a couple days. Ira’s driving down on Thursday morning and going back up on Saturday, so you could ride with him.

Ira said he didn’t want to invite you because he didn’t want you to feel obligated to come if you didn’t want to, but I’m sure you’ll say yes or no depending on how you feel. I know that Ira wouldn’t mind if you come—he’s always mentioning you when he calls, and I know that the two of you are good friends.

There’s always too much turkey, and we’ve got a guest room with your name on it. I won’t pressure you, but since it is just five days away I’m sure you’ll decide pretty quick just to know what your own plans are. I hope you can make it.

Marsha Blatt

(Keeping everybody informed...)

Inbox: Welcome to the club!

From: SecretKeepers (a division of the NSC)
To: Brook Haupenstaat
Subject: Welcome to the club!

Dear Brooklyn,

We are currently in the process of reviewing the data you sent us regarding your specialized knowledge about your sister, Chelsea Haupenstaat.

Good news! Your paperwork is complete! We will contact you within 8-12 business days with further information and instructions. In the meantime, please look over the attached literature to better understand how you can do your part to protect the safety and privacy of your sister.

If you have any questions or would like more information, don’t hesitate to email us at secretkeepers@nsc.org, or call the National Super Hotline any time, day or night, and ask to be put through to a SecretKeeper representative.

Thank you for doing your part.

Attached: welcometotheclub.pdf

Welcome to the club!

If you are reading this, it’s probably because you have recently learned that someone in your life is a super. Maybe it’s someone you’ve known forever, or maybe it’s someone you just met last week. Maybe you’ve always known there’s something special about this person, or maybe they seemed completely ordinary until the moment you learned about their powers. Whatever the situation is, you now know that this person is different—and you probably have a lot of questions.

Questions like:

What is a super?

How did this person become a super?

Is it dangerous to be around this person?

Why didn’t s/he tell me about these powers?

Why do supers keep their identities secret?

What do I do now?

What a lot of questions! Let’s take them one at a time.

Q: What is a super?

A: According to the NSC definition, a super is any individual capable of performing a feat, unaided by technology, that would have been considered outside the bonds of human capability before the Great Awakening in 1978. Many very different skills are contained in this definition—everything from causing broken bones to mend with a thought to launching energy flares that can light up the night sky as bright as noon! Some supers have big, showy powers that are hard to disguise, while others can do things so subtle that you might never notice them (things like x-ray vision, or altering sound vibrations so it’s impossible to sing off-key around them). But something that all supers have in common is that underneath what they can do they are ordinary people, with loves and fears and dreams—just like the rest of us.

Q: How did this person become a super?

A: Nobody knows why supers began appearing the world just after the Great Awakening—or even what the Great Awakening is! (There are theories, of course. Spend some time hanging out at the NSC—National Super Council—website, and you can read a whole page full of different theories!) There’s a lot we don’t know. But we do know that people who become supers generally develop their powers as teenagers, around the time when their bodies are going through puberty. This can often be a scary time for them. If you know somebody who is still in the early stages of being a super, make sure to give them all the love and support you can.

Q: Is it dangerous to be around this person?

A: Probably not. Nearly all supers can control their powers, and most supers have abilities that can only help the people around them. There are a few exceptions, but the supers who pose a threat to society are identified very early on by the NSC and kept in protective custody until the NSC leadership is 100% sure that they won’t hurt anybody. If there are any safety concerns about your super friend, the NSC will be in immediate contact to let you know how to stay safe around him or her.

Sidebar: That’s not fair! Some people object to the NSC keeping dangerous supers in custody, claiming that this is a violation of their rights as citizens. In 1987 the so-called “Freedom defenders” rallied around the case of Baby Bobby, an adorable toddler who had caused the deaths of three caregivers prior to his arrival at NSC headquarters by causing blood vessels in their brains to burst during his temper tantrums. Baby Bobby’s “defenders” took the case all the way to the Supreme Court, which ruled that a super who poses a danger to himself and others may be taken into protective custody—no matter how kind, gentle-natured and mentally stable he might be. Baby Bobby grew up in a special environment where he and the people around him were kept safe all the times, and when he became an adult he thanked the NSC for all it had done over the years to protect and care for him.

Q: Why didn’t this person tell me about their powers?

A: Chances are, they weren’t allowed to. For a number of reasons, most supers choose to register as incognitos. This means that nobody outside of a select few people know that they are supers. Even though supers make this choice freely, once a super has chosen to be an incognito, they must then follow special rules to keep their powers secret. Your friend is almost certainly an incognito super.

Q: Why do supers keep their identities secret?

A: Many people have falsely believed that supers keep their identities secret because they are ashamed of them, or because they want to break the law without getting caught. Nothing could be farther from the truth! Think about movie stars. You probably have a favorite movie star, and you know all sorts of things about that person’s personal life. Have you seen magazines with pictures of that person trying to shoo away photographers on the sidewalk, or read stories about him or her renting a whole tropical island for vacation—just to get away from all the reporters? Many of the “out” supers (the ones who don’t choose to be incognito) complain that they can hardly do their jobs because of all the attention they receive from the press. Also, many supers fear that if their identities were known, their loved ones would be targets for any evil individuals who might want to blackmail a super into doing bad things. But don’t think supers with secret identities are above the law. The NSC keeps close tabs on all of them—and the NSC has your safety as a top priority!

Q: What do I do now?

A: The most important thing for you to do is to keep your friend’s secret safe. This means not telling anyone that you know about this person’s power. Think about it. If you told two other people, and they told two other people, pretty soon this person’s identity wouldn’t be a secret anymore. You need to let this person know that you care for them, and prove that you understand how important a secret identity is. Don’t be afraid to ask questions—in a private setting, of course! And remember—your friend is still your friend. No superpowers can change that.

(Brook's inbox is bustling these days.)

Inbox: Plans for vacation

From: softstone@umn.edu
To: Brook Haupenstaat, forwarded from fairyqueen1111@hotmail.com
Subject: Plans for vacation

Hi Titania,

Wow, you have been to a lot of places! I’ve been out of the country a few times, mostly to visit friends and throw in some tourism on the side. I’m a little jealous that you’ve been to Manchu Picchu—it’s one of my top spots I’ve got to visit someday.

Don’t make any jokes about leaving it the way I find it when I do go, k? I had a terrible time with friends constantly teasing about that the last time I was in DC. I know it’s all in good fun, but the idea of vandalizing some of earth’s treasures just because they’re made of stone and I CAN is an upsetting idea.

(Shut up, Softstone. Don’t freak out the cute girl who seems to enjoy your company almost as much as you enjoy hers.)

Sorry. I guess I’m sort of drawn to stone monuments, tho. Makes sense, right? ;-) I thought Stonehenge was really, truly awesome, and I would love to see the Great Wall, if the NSC ever lifts its travel restrictions to China. Have you ever been there?

Sorry to hear that you’ll be alone for Thanksgiving. That’s no fun, but knowing you I’m sure that if you want to have plans then someone will invite you over. You must have a lot of friends watching out for you, right? And if you don’t go looking for plans, I’ll bet you’ll enjoy the quiet time!

Me, I’m heading out of town—weekend at home with the fam. The supes at the U all sat together and made a master schedule at the beginning of the year, and I figured I’d rather work Christmas break than Thanksgiving. So, I’m gone next weekend, but if you’re still putting up with me a month from now we can hang out together thru the new year.

That is, unless you’ve got plans to go to Thailand or the moon or some other exotic place.

Softstone

(There's more to read in Brook's inbox.)

Outbox: Paperwork in the mail

Sender: Brook Haupenstaat
To: Henri Haupenstaat
Subject: Paperwork in the mail

Hi Dad,

I know we didn’t get much of a chance to talk yesterday when we called, but there’s nothing much going on here except for Chelsea’s big news. School’s fine, and since my internship fell through I’ve actually had some time to myself. I even have the time to hang out regularly with a special guy. We’re not dating—we’re more of an It’s Complicated—but that’s fine for now.

Ack! This email is supposed to be about Chelsea, not me.

This morning Mom called the NSC Discovery Hotline, and by 2:00 a couple women had shown up at the school to interview Chelsea and her friend and get a general sense of how dangerous they are to the people around them. (Conclusion: not very.)

These guys work fast, and one of them came home with Chels to talk to me and Mom (fine, mostly Mom) about what they’re going to do now. They want to take Chelsea to their center for a month-long orientation thing, and they think they’ll have that set up and be ready to take her before Thanksgiving. In the meantime, they need to do a really thorough background check on Chelsea and also less thorough ones on you, me, mom.

I asked if they could email you the stuff you need to fill out and they said that would be fine for some of it, but there are a couple of official forms that have to be on special watermarked paper and signed in the presence of an NSC notary (not only fast, but also unbelievably thorough). They need a real address to send the stuff to, obviously. I don’t know how to reach you by snail mail down there in Brazil, or even if I can. Let me know an address so I can pass it on to them (or let me know if they should just mail it to Granddad in Manhattan).

Everything all right so far? Bring me coffee back!

Love you,

Brook

(Continue with Deena's story.)

Inbox: I know this isn't your real email

From: softstone@umn.edu
To: Brook Haupenstaat, forwarded from fairyqueen1111@hotmail.com
Subject: I know this isn’t your real email

Hi Titania,

1st of all, I think this is ridiculous. ;-) I have to have an extra email account with my alias in it—it’s part of being on the campus supe team. Seriously, gorgeous. Unless you can show me your contractual obligation to keep your ID secret, I’m going to keep teasing you as much as I want. You can’t stop me.

Just had to get that off my chest. Still, if you are going to be all weird about this, thanks for setting up an account that lets me contact you. It’s been great hanging out lately, and I’ve been a little worried about what would happen if an emergency came up right when we were scheduled to meet—since I didn’t have any way to get in touch.

Sure, a phone number would be better—but I guess I can understand your not wanting to give personal information out to strangers. I’m sure your mother would be proud.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the question you asked me last week—whether I think I’m a different person with and without the mask. There aren’t too many people I can talk to about that kind of thing. It’s pretty much just my friends in the NSC, but we don’t really talk about the serious personal stuff too often. Usually when we get together we trade stories about what we’ve been up to and the crazy people we’ve met. You know, stuff like, “This girl was jaywalking across a wet street while texting, and then she yelled at me when I snatched her out from in front of a speeding car!” jk.

I think I do act a little different when I’m Softstone. I’m still me, whether I’m wearing a mask or a baseball cap, but there are a lot of little differences that probably add up to a different personality. Just as an example, I’m a lot more careful about my language when I’m representing for the NSC. It’s not like I go around cussing the rest of the time or anything. Still, even though the occasional f-bomb from some random guy on the street isn’t a big deal, do you remember all the controversy a few years back when the Velvet Avenger went on Conan? And that was late-night TV! So we’re all really careful about how we express ourselves when we’re in costume.

But at the same time, I can only use my powers when I’m Softstone—or when I’m hanging out with people who know who I am. We supers usually don’t like that phrase—“use my powers.” It’s not like we all have this extra something we have to consciously use. For a lot of us, it’s the opposite. I mean sure, I have to think about melting stone, but I don’t “turn on” the ability to benchpress 1200 pounds. So whenever I’m in the real world, I have to remember to act like things are heavy or that it’s supposed to be struggle to open a really tight jar.

;-) That’s just a couple of day to day things. Deep down, I guess I’m always me. When you think about it, being a super is just a really specialized job. Maybe I can’t put it aside at the end of the day, but then a lot of people without superpowers have careers that they live and breathe 24-7. The toughest thing about my job is probably knowing that I can’t tell most of my friends what I did at work today. (That’s a big reason why a lot of supers hang out exclusively with other supers. I think that would be kind of boring, but I can understand why they do it.)

Thanks for asking such a great question! I’ll try to come up with something to ask you this week… something insightful that doesn’t demand any personal information. Hm, I’ll have to think about that.

In the meantime, I hope your week is going great. Don’t let homework get you down!

Softstone

(Check in with everyone.)

Outbox: Girl night!

From: Brook Haupenstaat
To: Chelsea Haupenstaat; Deena Markowitz
Subject: Girl night!

Hey girls,

I’m really excited about the girl time sleepover this Friday! I know this past month has been crazy (or crazier than crazy) for all of us, and it’ll be great to check in and hang out.

I have 2 things I want to mention—1 sort of silly, and the other more serious. Silly first, of course. ;-) You guys need costumes. I know this hasn’t come up or anything, but I’ve been checking out the latest super fashions and I have some sketches I’d like to show you. I’ll pull them out on Friday, and you can tell me what you like and don’t like about them. Then I’ll start putting together a couple prototypes.

The second thing also has to do with superpowers. I’ve been thinking about your whole unusual situation, about how you are technically supers but at the same time you didn’t just stumble into your powers—you’re a part of a big lineage that’s been using superpowers without destroying the world for thousands of years. I respect that, and I don’t think of you as rogues or anything. Still, I have some concerns, and I’m worried that in the long run you could get in serious trouble for not being registered with the NSC.

I want to talk to you about this in person, to give you my thoughts face to face. Still, I didn’t want to just drop this idea on you out of the blue this Friday. So, between now and then I’d like you to think about it, maybe put together your own pro/con lists of reasons why you would or wouldn’t want to register. Because it’s your decision obviously, but I want to make sure you’ve looked at all the angles.

That’s it for now. This Friday’s gonna rock!

Brook

(The party advances.)

So maybe I was wrong….

Status: Public


I’ve been rethinking the whole super thing lately. Sometimes I can even get past the terror I feel from imagining boundless power in the hands of average joes who might be having a really bad day and trying to take it out on somebody. Sometimes. And I guess I’m starting to realize that whether I want them around or not the supers are a part of the world, so I just have to deal with them.

Ira, you don’t even need to point it out. I have noticed that not a single supe has hurt anybody, taken over the chem labs or even played any vicious pranks. In fact, campus seems a little safer with them around. And I guess the NSC has done a good job of keeping control over all the known supers in the country.

What I’m trying to say is, I finally get the whole idea about how it’s the people, not the powers, that make a difference. It’s no more reasonable for me to hate all supers than it would be for me to trust all supers—just like I wouldn’t have the same feelings about every brunette or every music major.

So here’s my new resolution: From now on, I’m going to treat supers just like any other people. I’ll like them—or think they’re jerks—on individual terms. No stereotyping. No oversimplifying. The end.


8 comments

chelseamorning: :-D
love you, brook




babblingbrook: you too, weirdo.





iRant: Good for you, Brook! What changed your mind?





katidid714: Now that you’re not super-ist, you wanna join the supe fan club with me?




babblingbrook: How is that not stereotyping?





katidid714: Because they’re *all* hot. Well, maybe not Baseline so much….





babblingbrook: lol, they’re all wearing masks! and with the weather getting colder they don’t even wear the skintight costumes anymore.




katidid714: wah! don’t remind me!






(Continue to status updates.)

Outbox: Monday morning, continued

To: The Second-Age Conclave
From: Brook Haupenstaat
Subject: Monday morning, continued

To the Conclave,

Here’s the rest of what happened, all the way to the end. To continue….


Just then, the double doors to the room slammed open so hard that they hit the wall on both sides and just sort of hung there, wide open, for a few seconds. There was a guy standing in the doorway and I recognized him as Darcy’s fiancé even though I had never heard his name before.

Da’ashalenne was dressed to match Darcy, in a white-tie tuxedo with a silver cummerbund. His hair was kind of mussed though, like he had just gotten out of bed. He just stood in the doorway for a few more seconds, until Darcy twitched her fingers at him and he stumbled and started for us.

When he got closer I realized that his arms were clamped straight down along his sides, with his hands in tight fists. His posture was way too good, too. It wasn’t until he got closer to us that I realized that if I blurred my eyes just right I could make out some sort of glowing, half-visible ropes all along his body.

Even thinking back I can’t judge what the expression was on Da’ashalenne’s face. He looked around the room, and when he reached Darcy’s side he asked her what was going on. “Until the day of our wedding I am still a guest in your house, and I know that you honor the old ways so that you would never misuse a guest in this way.”

Darcy turned her back to him. “You ceded your guest’s rights last week when you attempted to contact the Waking Guard, Shelly!” His eyes widened, and I think he would have taken a step backward if the bonds had let him. “That would have been a clever trick, one traitor using another to destroy my family.”

“I have no idea what you’re—”

“I intercepted the message, Shelly. It was beautiful, by the way. So heartfelt and honest, I didn’t want it to go to waste. So I sent it out myself, only I changed the location for the meeting.”

Da’ashalenne’s tan skin had gone pale.

“The little idiots that the Waking Guard sent to stop my plans thought it was a sweet message, too. It took some work on my part, but by Friday night I was able to lure them in here. And now I have them—and you—and I’m looking forward to the wedding ceremony.” Darcy giggled and stepped closer to Da’ashalenne. She slapped him across the face and then looked down at her hand to check her manicure. Then she smiled at him and said, “I love my present. It’s better than anything I could have asked for.”

There were columns along the walls, which I’m pretty sure were helping to support the rest of the building. Two of them near the front of the room—by front I mean the farthest from the exit—were darker and thicker and didn’t seem to match the others. After Darcy said, “It’s better than anything I could have asked for,” she wiggled her fingers at these two columns and they started to glow blue. A few seconds later the columns were translucent, and we could see that each one had a person tied up and trapped inside of them.

The people inside were both humans, teenaged girls. They were wearing black, but covered with the same glowing ropes that were on Da’ashalenne. I couldn’t see them very well though, so I turned back to Darcy and Da’ashalenne.

Da’ashalenne looked like he was trying to speak, but it took him a little while to get any words out. When he did, his voice sounded strained. He just barely managed to say, “You can’t do this! The conclave—”

Darcy was rolling her eyes, and she interrupted him. “Every single elder on the conclave is as drained and weak from their long sleep as my parents or yours, Shelly. And not one of them will ever show the courage that we have, to take the rude, barbaric half-breed power and shape it into a surge of life to return them to their former glory.”

“You can’t think that they’ll agree with what you’re doing!” Da’ashalenne was starting to look frantic.

“Shelly, Shelly, you still don’t get it, do you? Good thing I’m not marrying you for your brains. Once these two little pathetic Waking Guardians have given their lives for Mommy and Daddy’s recovery, this room will start pulling in power from half-breeds all over the city–and then the conclave will be in no position to disagree with anything we do.”

It was around here that I started to understand what Darcy was planning. I asked, “You’re going to kill them?” and looked at the two girls. Maybe it was some sort of perception skill I was picking up from Darcy or all the power in the room, but I could see them clearly now even from so far away. They were gagged, but their eyes were open wide and I could see the fear in them. And they were so young, too—just teenagers. It made me feel sick more upset than I can say, but I didn’t know what I could do about it.

Darcy and Da’ashalenne had been arguing while I was staring at the two girls, but it wasn’t long after that when Darcy said “Enough chitchat!” like she was really mad, and then she said, “Come” and started walking toward the head of the coffins, between her parents and the blue columns. Even though I was so upset about what she was going to do I still felt like I had to follow her, and Da’ashalenne staggered after her too, still tied up.

Darcy pulled Da’ashalenne to a spot on the floor that was in the middle of an elaborate mosaic. Once they were both there Da’ashalenne’s legs buckled and he landed on his knees. Darcy called him by his name and added a lot of titles I can’t remember and she called him something I think like a vassal lord and that he had been promised to her since infancy, and then I remember she asked, “Do you honor your family’s obligations and give yourself willingly into my keeping?”

I think I saw Da’ashalenne’s face twitch a little in the next couple of seconds, before he looked down at the ground in front of him and said something quiet. Darcy asked him, “What?” and he looked up at her and said really loud, “I bring no dishonor to my family. I willingly fulfill the obligation of becoming your husband.”

Then Darcy said “That’s good enough for now” and she used her magic or whatever to pull Da’ashalenne back up so that he looked like he was standing but his feet were actually dangling about a foot off the ground. Then she put her hand about on the middle of his torso. At first Da’ashalenne was yelling, but then all of a sudden he stopped and he fell onto the ground where he stopped moving. Darcy looked bigger now, and maybe she really was glowing. Maybe I just imagined that part—I’m not sure. Anyway, then she looked over at me, and even though she didn’t say anything I knew she wanted me to go over to where she was and even though I had never been so scared in my life, I couldn’t stop myself from coming closer.

When I had reached just about the edge of the mosaic circle (I could see that it wasn’t really a mosaic but millions of crystals—or glowstones, probably—refracting light in different colors) she smiled and said, “Don’t worry Brook, I can still use your help.” She put her hand on my pendant and again it felt like something too personal, like she was touching a part of me that nobody else had ever touched. Then she lifted the chain over my head and wrapped it a few times around her wrist, so that she had the necklace and it wasn’t attached to me anymore.

So then I felt this whooshing feeling again, like everything about me that was awake and energetic was spilling out of me, and I could even see this glittering string running from me to the necklace and then seeping into Darcy. It felt so, so terrible, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t even talk to Darcy. Standing up was feeling too hard, and so I sort of stumbled down to the floor and curled up in a ball, just a few feet away from the crystal circle.

I think it was a few minutes later when I heard Da’ashalenne call my name. I was so weak I could barely move my head to look at him, and I was so upset that Darcy was going to kill those girls that I didn’t want to talk to him or anybody else, but I turned my head a little toward where he was lying on the ground. His eyes were barely open, but when he saw me looking at him he said my name again. This time I noticed that his mouth hadn’t moved, so I knew he was actually contacting me mind-to-mind somehow.

All I could think was Ohmygod she’s going to kill them, she’s going to kill them, so I don’t think I could have had much of a conversation with Da’ashalenne except that he got my attention by thinking, You can stop her. Only you can save them. So I listened. He was in my head already, and since he understood what Darcy was doing he showed me. How she was using her power—and his, and mine—to drain energy out of the Waking Guardians, to collect the energy from both of them and pour it into the walls of the room so that it would go into her parents and make them stronger and stronger while the Guardians got weaker. Da’ashalenne imagined how it would happen, when the final life-sparks were pulled out of the two girls to feed Darcy’s parents, to make them strong enough to rise and start sucking energy out of every super and sensitive in the city. He imagined all the fear that they would cause, how terrible it would be. How this room would grow into a tower and then into a huge palace, stretching out over miles and obliterating everything in its way. But then he thought the words again, You can stop her.

I don’t think I believed him. I felt too weak to even stand up, and he was trying to get me to—what? Fight Darcy and all of her power? The room around us was starting to buzz, and the columns around the Waking Guardians were glowing. There were thick, glowing lines between Darcy and Da’ashalenne, Darcy and me, and two more lines reaching from her toward the Guardians. And then a tiny, tiny, faint thread between Da’ashalenne and me.

Through that thread, Da’ashalenne let me see how Darcy had changed the power of my pendant so that it would suck up all of my energy in the past few weeks, making me feel weak and drained but storing up all this extra stuff she could use for her resurrection plan. And he let me see how he had tracked me down and put a little something extra into her spell, just a little tweak so that I could pull the power back in if I knew what I was doing, or even change what the power was being used for—if I really really knew what I was doing.

And then, he showed me how to do it.

It really wouldn’t have worked if we weren’t connected mind-to-mind, but he sort of stayed with me and helped me get a sense of it all while I slid my awareness through the glowing rope and into Darcy’s space. I could kind of tell that she had shielded herself off from Da’ashalenne but had left herself more open to me, which made sense because how on earth would I have known how to stop her, right?

But anyway, by this point she had opened up the connections between the Guardians and the center of the room, and I could sense the energy pouring out of the girls. The energy was spilling out, faster and faster, and the girls were starting to slouch and hang down from their bindings. I was almost too terrified to do anything, but I made a point of keeping my cool and following the instructions that Da’ashalenne had whispered into my mind. I followed the power all the way out to the Guardians, and I reversed the connections Darcy and made so the energy poured back into them. Then, before Darcy had a chance to react, I pulled my power back into me. I don’t know if Da’ashalenne expected it to work this way or not, but when I pulled I felt this flood of energy—not only everything I had accidentally been storing up in the past few weeks, but all of Da’ashalenne’s energy and all of Darcy’s too. I could feel it all—like 3 different strong flavors—all bunching up tight inside of me.

The feeling was such a surprise that at first all I could do was just lie on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. I heard Darcy start to shriek, and I saw the lights change a little around me, but I was so fascinated watching the ceiling that I ignored it all. The ceiling was interesting because it looked like it was folding in toward the floor.

Then Darcy was yelling, “You fool! We’ll all die!” Cracks were running through the walls and up toward the top of the room, and now there were these loud, thundering creaking sounds all around. I had a feeling that I should get out of there, so I stood up. Darcy didn’t look so bright now, and she was shaking all over. She reached out toward me, but just then there was a booming sound and something was flying toward me and a second later my head hit the floor.

The thing that had hit turned out to be Da’ashalenne. He must have seen the big segment of the ceiling falling toward us all and acted really fast. We both collapsed in the narrow space between the two coffins, so when the giant piece of stone hit we were safe by just a couple of feet. I’m not sure how hard I hit my head on the floor, but it did hurt a lot and make the edges of my eyesight turn dark. It hurt more when Da’ashalenne helped me to half-sit up and felt around the back of my head, probably to make sure it wasn’t bleeding or anything.

I think I realized that if the ceiling was falling here in the middle of the room it could fall on the Waking Guardians next. I tried to get up, thinking somehow that I could save them or something, but Da’ashalenne wrapped his arms around my shoulders and told me to stop. Da’ashalenne looked pale and woozy, but he was still strong enough to hold me down—at least for a couple of seconds—and tell me that if I trusted him, we could still save them. Then he apologized, promised this was the last time he would take advantage of me like this, and he kissed me.

The kiss was crazy weird. It felt amazing (in a normal kissing way) for just about two seconds, but then he put one of his hands flat against my ribcage, just between my breasts, and pulled out the energy that had been his and the stuff that had been Darcy’s. Then he started to glow, his dark eyes almost sparkling. We could still hear parts of the ceiling falling all around us, and a funny tinkling sound whenever a glowstone fell and shattered, but after a huge flare of light the stone above us and the crushed coffin daises shifted back a few feet so that we had room to stand up together. Then Da’ashalenne wrapped an arm around my side and yelled, “Let’s go!”

He was half carrying me when we started moving. Stuff was still falling while we ran, but the protective shield he had made around himself kept us both safe. A huge pile of rock and steel had fallen just on top of where Darcy had been standing the last time I saw her. A few lumps of concrete and twisted metal fell toward us, but they all bounced off the shield and fell to the ground somewhere else.

We didn’t make it to the Waking Guardians. Before we got all the way across the room the whole ceiling, everything, caved in. The whole building had fallen on top of us. The shield held, but just outside of its influence there was no free space anymore. Just building pieces.

We waited what must have been an hour or two for the building to settle around us before we tried to find a way out. During that time Da’ashalenne told me a longer version of your history and convinced me to keep all of this a secret from everyone I know. Believe me, even if I wanted to talk about it (which I so don’t), nobody would ever, ever believe this story. I would sound like a lunatic if I tried telling it!

During that time Da’ashalenne told me about how he had been sent here to marry Darcy, but during the engagement he learned that she was planning to drain the life-forces of a “half-breed” or 2, combined with some heavy glowstone action and spell work, to grow this inner sanctum place and replenish her parents’ power so that they could start taking over the world together. Now that I know how she feels about humans, I am very glad that her plan failed (speaking as a human, that is).

After Darcy decided that I had the power she was looking for, she had borrowed my glowstone necklace (it was made from a piece of the drained glowstones from Antarctica) and reconfigured it so it would fill up with my own energy. Then she went home and bragged to Da’ashalenne about what she had done, so he apparently stalked me for a while until he found a chance to sneak in and add his own touch, a little secret way that I could follow after my energy if it ever got pulled out. My being so worried about Darcy’s substitute victims made it even easier than he expected it would be to convince me to cross her and pull the energy back.

Once all the rocks and pieces had settled and the building had more or less fallen as much as it was going to, Da’ashalenne forced a tiny tunnel up toward the surface and we crawled out. There were a bunch of rescue workers on the scene, so he added some sort of invisibility illusion (you guys have some nice tricks up your sleeves, you know) so we could sneak out to where I had parked my car. I was really fading by this point, so he drove me home and tucked me into bed. I’m not sure how he got back to wherever he was going after that, because I was practically passed out, and by the time I was awake again he was gone. I’m guessing he called a cab service.

So, that’s what happened. Da’ashalenne said he would go back later and “take care of” (don’t want to know what that means!) the remains of Darcy, her parents and the WGs. I’m sure you’ve seen the news reports on the building collapse and heard Da’ashalenne’s—or, ahem, David Ages’s–statements to the press.

So, that’s all I know. And I’m telling nobody about it except you guys. Email me if you have any questions, but I doubt that I have answers. I’ll do my best, though.

Brooklyn Haupenstaat


(Continue to final denouement.)

Outbox: Monday morning

To: The Second-Age Conclave
From: Brook Haupenstaat
Subject: Monday morning

To the Conclave,

I don’t exactly know who you are, but I’m supposed to tell you exactly what happened this past Monday morning. I’ll write down everything I can remember, and not leave anything out.

My name is Brooklyn Haupenstaat. I have been working for Darcy Ages (I know that’s not her real name to you guys, but it’s how I know her) as her personal intern for the past six weeks. I’m human (I guess I should mention that, huh?) with no super powers or anything (but I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that I’m a part of what you call “the descendants of the guard” or something like that, which I don’t entirely understand). I’m 19 years old and a junior in college.

On Monday morning Darcy sent me a text message a little before 3:00 AM. She asked me to come into the office right away. I got there around 3:30, when it was still dark and basically empty in that part of town. I was surprised that there weren’t any guards stationed at the entrance like there usually are, but after I came into the building (the lobby was pretty dark) there was a note for me on the front desk telling me to take the stairs to the basement. There were directions to get to a certain area that I hadn’t been to before.

The room was in some sort of sub-sub-sub-basement that I hadn’t known existed. I had to go down so many steps and through so many different hallways that I had no idea where I was any more or even how to get back out if I had to, but apparently I was directly below the middle of the building. (I figured that part out later in the day, after I heard about how the building had collapsed.) After a lot of walking I finally reached the last door, which opened to this huge room with a stone floor and a domed ceiling that glittered and sparkled in a way that filled the whole area with a dim light.

I couldn’t see very much when I came in, but Darcy was standing in the middle of the room wearing her wedding dress. It’s—well, it was—this gorgeous silver-white sheath that looked so delicate that you’d be afraid to touch it. It was also dripping with tiny glowing crystals. I don’t know if they were all crystals or if some of them were glowstones. By the time I knew enough to ask, there was a lot of stuff going on and it didn’t seem to matter very much by then.

Darcy looked amazing. Her skin was practically glowing, her hair was done up, and I don’t know if it was makeup or something else but her eyes had this purple thing going on that I had never seen before. I don’t mean to obsess, but she was standing right there when I came in and I couldn’t stop staring at her. It was like this crazy fixation, and all I could think was, “She’s so beautiful.”

When Darcy saw me, she called me over and kissed me on the forehead. I felt this electric tingle when she touched me, and even though I’ll do my best to tell you everything else that happened after that the truth is that I may as well have been drunk for most of the morning. A lot of what I’ll tell you is stuff that I sort of noticed at the time but didn’t really think about or figure out until later. A lot of it didn’t bother me right away either, but looking back at it I’m pretty freaked out.

Darcy thanked me for coming so quickly. I asked her what was going on, and she said, “I’ve just received the most wonderful wedding gift, and I want to use it right away.” She seemed really, really excited. Then she put her hand around my shoulder and said, “This is very good news for you, Brook. Your role in the ceremony is going to be much less draining now, and I have every reason to believe that you’ll recover from the experience.”

I didn’t understand what she was saying, and I think I asked her what my role was supposed to be. I had been expecting that it would be my job to coordinate with the wedding planner and make sure everyone was where they needed to be at the right times. When I asked her about it though, Darcy just pulled me toward the middle of the room. There were these two clear boxes, like coffins, resting on marble daises just under the highest part of the ceiling. When we got close to them, I started to feel this weird buzzing, throbbing noise in my head.

“These are my parents,” Darcy said when we got closer. The boxes really looked like coffins up close. They were clear enough that I could see the two people inside of them, except that they looked more like corpses than people. Their skin was as white as Darcy’s, but it was stretched so tight across their faces that they could have been dead. Their eyes were set back deep in the sockets, closed, and their hair was silver-white. Both of them wore white robes, or shrouds or something, and I had no idea if they were breathing or not.

Darcy had said before that she was moving the wedding from December to October because her parents were really sick. When I looked at them now I thought they must be dead, so I was getting ready to tell Darcy how sorry I was. I couldn’t understand why she was acting so happy.

She must have noticed the look on my face, because she laughed and shook her head. “No, don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine—now. Soon, they’ll be better than they’ve been for thousands of years.”

It was so early in the morning, and I figured that I must not be as awake as I thought I was. I asked Darcy what was going on, and she laughed again. She said, “Oh, poor Brook. You must be so confused—and I hardly know where to start! No, I do know. Don’t stress out sweetie, but the wedding’s been moved up again. I’m getting married this morning.

“As for my parents,” she was petting one of the coffins, and looking at the body inside with a loving expression, “that’s a longer story. I don’t know if I have time to tell it now. But they’ve been very weak since before I was born, and they’re about to get a lot stronger. All of us are.” She laughed, and then she looked at me like she was considering something. “Almost all of us, I mean.”

The throbbing in my head was starting to feel like a headache. I was still feeling as drunk as when I first came into the room, too. Still, there was something—about the way she was smiling, or maybe about the feeling I was getting looking at her parents in the glass coffins—that made me feel like I should run away. The problem was that I couldn’t concentrate enough to go with that feeling. So instead, I asked her what had happened to her parents.

“They slept too long.” Darcy was walking around the coffins now, checking them or something. “Six thousand years beneath the ice, slowly feeding off the accumulated energy of their chambers for so many long years after they were supposed to be awakened. When they finally realized that their dreamless sleep had gone too long, it took every bit of strength they had left to open the way, to part the ice and return to the surface.

“The poor dears; the world was very different when they were younger. But by the time they were adults, their palaces had all been destroyed in the wars and they knew that their chilling world would be covered in ice for centuries to come. Back then, you humans were barely more advanced than any of the other monkeys wandering around the empty spaces. Imagine their surprise when they awoke and saw the cities you had built, the way you had covered their world with stone and twisted metal.”

Even though Darcy was sort of talking to me, she was staring at the coffins the whole time and speaking in a soft voice—like the kind you might use with a baby. I had a feeling that she barely remembered I was there when she went on.

“They hadn’t meant to sleep so long. They had left behind a league of knights, the Waking Guard, who had sworn to protect them aboveground and to open the way when the Great Winter warmed to spring. And yet the centuries passed, the glaciers receded, and still my parents slept. All of them slept, their strength ebbing with the centuries. The ground above their heads was frozen, yes, but how were they to know that elsewhere in the world green flourished and new civilizations were sprouting like weeds in an untended field?”

While Darcy went on, something really strange started to happen. Instead of listening to what she was saying, I started to feel her story. I could sense the long patience of the… whatever they were… sleeping under the snow, and their discomfort when their power stores began to drain. I felt like I was part of their telepathic conversations as they planned the energy burst that would make their chambers explode outward.

I felt sick with their weakness when they came out onto the frozen ice shelf, barely protected by the thin robes they had worn to sleep. I was as confused as Darcy imagined them to be when the long polar day ended and they saw satellites gleaming like stars above them. Their first months of hardship, as they searched for warmth and watched the weakest among them waste away to nothing made me cry.

“And what had happened to the Waking Guard, to their dedication to serve the sleepers?” Darcy was leaning against one of the coffins, brushing her fingertips along its top just above her father’s forehead. “How many years did they maintain their loyalty, before they abandoned us and turned to embrace the inferior humans?” Except that she hadn’t said “inferior humans,” but just one word that meant both things. I think that was when I realized that she hadn’t been speaking English but for some reason I understood her—even though I didn’t have a clue what language she was speaking.

“How many generations before they began diluting their pure blood, passing their lofty gifts along to half-breed children, quarter-breed children and worse?”

Darcy sounded angry now, and this was the point when she looked up from the coffins and seemed to remember that I was in the room with her. She started walking toward me. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch this ridiculous hero-worship on your news stations, to know that our blood runs through the coarse veins of your ‘supers’? To imagine the ancients copulating in dark corners and dusty alleyways, with inferior humans?” I thought she was going to slap me then, but at the last second she shook her head and smiled. “No, of course you don’t. You sweet, dear little thing. If only more of them were like you.”

I felt this surge of energy from the glowstone pendant I was wearing (long story, and I’m sure that you’ll get that explained to you by someone who understands the whole situation a lot better than I do), and I felt like I was being pat on the head or something. Creepy in retrospect, but it felt nice at the time.

Even though I was still totally out of it, once Darcy had started showing the story instead of telling it, I had understood it all pretty well. So I was confused because, if her people’s Waking Guard had been having kids with humans for thousands of years, I didn’t understand why there had only been supers for the past thirty years or so. I’m not sure how much of the question I asked and how much I just thought, but Darcy seemed to get it.

“How were they to know?” she asked, and then she showed me the explosion of power in Antarctica again. I got a sense of how the ripples of power went beyond the edge of the chambers and traveled over the ocean, across the land, sometimes strong enough to wake up stores of energy inside distant descendants of the Waking Guard. “There should never have been such human spirits to stir awake in the first place. My parents and the others with them would have done things differently had they any idea of the outcome of their escape plan, of course. You know as well as anyone how much trouble it caused, the inferior humans gifted with abilities beyond their ability to control. It’s disgusting. Once I am in power, I will see to it that every one of these ‘supers’ is drained to nothing—except for those who are wise enough to learn to serve their true masters, of course.”

Darcy was in my head enough that I was feeling good about myself and proud to be on her side while she talked. Now, thinking back I’m pretty sure I’d be throwing up or whimpering if she was here right now saying that stuff. I cannot emphasize enough—I was not feeling or acting normal. That will explain why I was just kinda curious when I asked her what the special wedding present was that made her so excited that she was moving up the wedding.

My question made Darcy smile and pull my face closer to hers. “The Waking Guard is still around Brook, but they’ve gone rogue.” I have this phobia of rogue supers, so I almost yelled when she said this. Darcy shook her head, her forehead touching mine with little tingles like electricity. “Not like what you’re imagining, sweet. I wouldn’t even call them the Waking Guard, except that it’s what they call themselves, and they have passed on the title through the generations from the very beginning. That’s what I’ve gathered from interrogations, at least. But they are no more like me and my kind than you are.”

“You mean, they’re totally human?” I asked.

Darcy laughed at me. “That’s not what I mean at all.” She reached between us and picked up my glowstone necklace. Having her touch it felt too personal all of a sudden, like she was touching something inside of me. Not in a sexual way, but… it’s hard to explain.

Then she kissed the glowstone and I felt this whooshing, and I almost blacked out. The next thing I knew I was sort of wavering on my feet and Darcy looked even more gorgeous than she had before. Like, goddess gorgeous. But she had this look on her face like she had just eaten something that didn’t taste quite right.

She kept talking about the Waking Guard, but I was too out of it to listen for the next couple of minutes. I’m sure, looking back, that she must have told me that the rogues who had attacked the building two weeks ago were part of the Waking Guard, and that she had laid a trap and caught them. I do remember at the end that she said something about how, “Their energy, with some help from the stores I have collected, will be more than enough to bring my parents back to their former greatness and to send a clear message to the inferior humans of who is truly in command of this world. When I join my powers with my fiancé’s, I will have enough strength to draw the life-forces of these inept guards into the weave of this chamber, to feed my parents and make them strong. I’m glad I still have you for backup in case something goes wrong, but I am so pleased that this plan allows me to keep you around to serve me. All will go according to my plan, and in a few hours my parents and I will rise to rule this city and bring about a golden age of peace and power.”

Again, I’m looking back and I can’t believe the directions my head was going in. She says that the three of them are taking over the city, and the best response I can come up with is, “But if you’re getting married this morning, isn’t your husband going to be ruling the city, too?”

Darcy scowled. “Perhaps. He will have to prove himself, first. I have begun to suspect that my Da’ashalenne is a bit of a rogue, himself.” Darcy closed her eyes for a little while, and then she opened them and smiled. It was a scary smile. “And he’s here. It’s time to begin the ceremony.”

I want to get the whole story to you as soon as I can, so I’m going to send this part to you now and keep writing. I’ll send you my version of the rest of what happened some time in the next couple of hours.


(Continue to the 2nd email.)