Nightmare Come True

Nightmare Come True
C. Dashing

**The Huntress**
To whom it may concern;
My name is Aya Morgan. I am nineteen years old. I have long, vibrant red hair, deep, pale blue eyes, and the features of a young Venus. With the exception of being fifteen pounds underweight. I write this in my free period during school. Most other students are doing something grand. They are hanging out with their boyfriends, or their girlfriends, or practicing their dance routines.
I, Aya Morgan, however, am sitting alone in the school library, writing a note to tell anyone who finds me that I have perished from a combination of despair, boredom, and loneliness.
Faithfully recorded, Aya Morgan

Aya dropped her pen and ran her hands through her hair. The school was once, and still was, an old castle, so the library was both massive and poorly lit. The cold gray stone did little to lighten any moods. Though the most common fantasy the other students enacted was the ‘proper’ way to wake sleeping beauty.
The heavy oak doors creaked and a lone body snuck through. The combination of dim light and distance obscured their features. Aya was in the far corner and they all wore their uniforms. The young man entered, a book in one hand. He set the book on the counter and began to walk towards the far end, as if with purpose.
As he walked beneath one of the electric braziers, she recognized him. It was James. The school heartthrob. And he was coming straight at her. Her heart fluttered.
He got within twenty feet. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’ Aya felt the color rise in her cheeks and she turned away. The flutter turned into a full seizure.
‘How long have you waited. Watching from the side. Always looked over. Just because you weren’t the popular girl.’ He spoke the words smoothly, as if they had been carefully practiced.
‘I have come for you.’ His hand held her shoulder and her heart stopped. Her breath caught. She let herself be turned around. The door groaned open and as James leaned in to kiss her, he looked away, not seeing her face.
A flash of red hair sparked in the weak light. Landria. It had to be. The only other girl with bright red hair in the entire school.
‘James?’ The voice echoed down the hall, ‘Sorry I’m late! Is that you?’
Aya’s heart crumbled to dust. James looked back down at her and stood back up, taking his soft words with him. He smiled boyishly, ‘Sorry, mistaken identity.’ He forced up a weak chuckle.
Caught in one of their stupid games.
Aya ripped the notebook from the table and stuffed it into her bag. She dared a look up, tears welling in her eyes, but the show of false anger was without an audience. James had already started toward Landria, as if he had forsaken the popular girl for the shy book worm.
Tears streaked down her face as Aya retreated into the maze of book shelves. Thirty eight miles of books. And it was done six rows at a time. It still left more than three miles of rows and columns, arranged haphazardly around stone pillars. Aya picked random turns, hoping to get lost forever in the maze. A dark form appeared and her tear streaked eyes couldn’t see it before she plowed into the obstruction.
Aya cried out and toppled back. The dark obstruction let out a gentle ‘oof’ and stumbled a step. It turned around and knelt down. Aya straightened her glasses, rubbing a tear from her eye. It was the librarian. Cain. Always dressed in that old cloak.
‘What’s wrong with ye, child? Ye too busy to see an old man in tha road?’ He offered her a hand up. She took it and stood, brushing the dust from her skirt. ‘I am terribly sorry, Mr. Cain. I wasn’t watching where I was going and was running in the library.’
Cain looked her over again. ‘Miss Morgan, aren’t yea?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Bah!’ Cain slapped at the air, ‘Don’t sir me. My pappy was sir. Makes me feel old.’
Aya looked back at the man. He wasn’t a day under ninety.
‘Anyway, no’ you’re here. Saves me some trooble. Can ye pull tha’ picture frame down?’ He pointed at one of the library maps. They were hung every so often and drawn with great care. This particular one was a little higher than the rest. Just a touch too high for Cain to reach easily.
Aya gave it a glance. She could get it, but it was just out of her reach as well.
She gave the ground a good look. Setting down her bag, she stepped up on the lowest shelf and levered herself up. Resting her other foot on the opposite shelf, Aya stretched up and grasped the bottom of the frame. It lifted easily, though it was heavier than she had expected. It came away from the wall and slipped in her grip. Suddenly off balance, Aya felt herself falling. The frame was too heavy and she just watched as the world slid. Then it jerked to a vicious halt and a pain warped her neck. The frame spun in her hand, slapping her in the back and bending her arms over her shoulders.
She looked back and found her neck tie is Cain’s strong grip. She stepped down and shifted her hands, bringing the map around, handing it to the old man.
Aya had only seen him in passing before. She would have never guessed he was as strong and stout as he was.
‘Thank ye, child. Yer aid is much appreciated.’ He whistled a merry tune as he wandered back down the maze. Aya wandered in the other direction. She rounded a corner and found herself facing a door in a dead end. She could only remember one door being on the map, and it lead to the courtyard. Resolving that it was time to take in some sun, she pushed the door open.
Instead of light and fresh air, Aya choked on stale fumes and looked into a dark room. Someone was singing in the distance.
Aya stepped in and closed the door behind her. It clanked loudly, though she was trying to be quiet.
The singing stopped. ‘Who’s there?’ The voice still held a melody tone, as if curious as to who would come in.
A girl looked around the corner. She had long dark hair that framed her pale face. ‘Oh, Hi!’ she waved, a paintbrush in her hand. ‘What brings you to this forgotten corner?’
Aya sighed, ‘Just trying to get lost.’
The other girl laughed, ‘You’ve succeeded! If anyone is looking for you, it could take them a week to get this far and if the time of day isn’t just right, they’ll walk right on by.’
‘Do the shelves really move?’ Aya didn’t really put much faith in the rumor.
The girl laughed again, ‘No, silly. The door is usually in deep shadow. But for about the next half an hour, the sun peeks through one of the windows and the door can be seen.’ She shook her head, mumbling and giggling.
Aya stepped around the corner, trying to see what the girl was painting. She wasn’t wearing a uniform. The canvas was a stone wall with a white hollow that hadn’t been painted yet. It seemed as if she was going to do a portrait, but hadn’t decided whom it was a portrait of. The stone was a perfect imitation of the back wall of the room, even down to the floor board with the knothole.
‘Who is going to be your focus?’ Aya asked, pointing at the incomplete painting.
The girl shrugged, ‘I was thinking about trying to do myself, but if you’ve got a few free hours…?’ she looked Aya up and down.
Aya checked her watch. ‘I’ve got a few before dinner.’ She set down her tote, ‘Do you have a costume or something?’
The girl bit the tip of the brush and eyed Aya over again as she wandered to a leather covered chest against one wall. A rough bed and a dresser were tucked into the cubby as well.
‘Wow,’ Aya took in the sight. ‘Do you live in here?’
The girl laughed around her brush, ‘Only when I’m caught up on a painting. Cain hates it when I try to feed in here.’
The scent of flowers washed up from the inside of the chest as the girl dug through it. ‘I think this will fit…’ She handed Aya a roll of cloth. It was a stone gray color. It unfolded into a tightly fitting dress. The way the back plunged, it would be revealing as well. The bottom of the gown wasn’t normal either, but cut to a point, the slits coming to a high place on her thigh. There was a tie at the bust line, as if to make sure you hid nothing from viewers.
‘This is some dress…’ Aya held it up.
‘Do you think you can wear it?’ the girl held something else wrapped in cloth, a little longer than her forearm.
Aya looked the dress over again. Elaborate without being complicated, sultry without being sluttish. The words siren and temptress came to mind.
‘I would die to be immortalized in this!’
The girl laughed and turned her back, ‘Careful with the words you use on me!’ Aya joined in her laughter as she changed.
The girl turned as Aya finished. The fabric stretched to fit over her hips and still hug her waist. The tie at her back revealed her ribs, but her breasts were the highlight. The halter top made the most of her long neck. Her arms were bare, as was her back. The small pair of tribal pattern cats tattooed in the small of her back seemed suddenly powerful and exotic instead of a tiny waste of a hundred and fifty dollars that no one would ever see.
The girl had set down the cloth wrapped thing and held boots and gloves. Aya was having too much fun and eagerly accepted them. They also fit perfectly.
‘Who do these belong to?’ She asked, pulling down the laces of the thigh boots.
‘They’ve been in that trunk for a long time. I had hoped to wear them on a special occasion, but I never quite had the opportunity.’
Aya paused. ‘I’m sorry…’ She was suddenly guilty about her situation.
‘Don’t be! You’re a model now, remember? I just needed someone to wear the clothes so I could paint them properly.’ the girl handed Aya the last of the things she had pulled from the chest. The cloth was gone and Aya held a sword.
‘Is this part of the outfit?’ Aya seemed awed, her wide eyes taking in the color and feel of the weapon. The sheath was the same gray color as the dress, the hilt wrapped in a deep black leather.
‘No. But this is.’ The girl stepped behind Aya and pulled a choker around her neck. It was cold and fit tightly. The girl helped Aya belt on the short sword. The way it hung on her waist, it seemed there was no way it didn’t belong with the rest of the outfit. It was as much an accessory as the choker.
‘I don’t have a mirror, but you can see what I see when the painting is done.’ Aya nodded and struck a pose against the wall.
She leaned on the stone, sword hip toward the girl and crossed her arms. Then she thought of a better idea.
‘Just a second…’ She dug into her bag and pulled out the pack of cigarettes she had there. ‘I bought them to try to fit in with the other kids better, but it never worked, so I’ve been selling them off a few at a time.’ She fished one out and picked up her lighter. A silver Zippo. It went perfectly with the rest of the costume.
She resumed her station, right hand holding the lighter open, she had the cigarette in her left hand, resting on the sword’s pommel.
‘Magnificent!’ the girl began painting furiously. Aya stood for a long time, at one point, she lit the lighter and watched the flame dance in her hand. It was the only warmth she felt in the room and the scrub of the paintbrush was random, but comforting. She slipped into a daydream. A woman with nothing to lose, wearing this dress on a battlefield, cutting down her foes. She was the one with the power. Not some stupid, popular, cheerleader who had the class heartache all to herself.
‘Finished!’ Aya snapped the lighter closed with a practiced flip. One that had taken a long time to master.
She stuck the cigarette between her lips out of habit and came around the easel. The stone had a hint of the flame’s light splashed here and there. But the blank space had been filled. And Aya was too surprised to even gasp. Her mouth didn’t fall open. Her shock was too great for even that.
There stood the creature of awesome power she had imagined herself being. Beauty and grace, almost too powerful to be real. A gentle wisp of smoke curled up from the lit cigarette in her hand. The silver streamer swirled up and around, resting on her shoulder, like a snake. One could see the vague outlines of scales and a viper’s head at the peak of the smoke. The lighter flame was larger, it really looked like a woman of flame, perched on the small silver lighter. And then there was Aya. She stood, strong and serene. A calm look on her face as she gazed at the woman of flame. Her hair had a bright streak in it from the fire’s light and it fell around her face, as if trying to caress the face it was a part of. Her lips were a storm of pinkish red and white surrounded with a deep red line, thick and nearly black. The dress ran over her body like water.
‘All I added, really, was the lipstick and I exaggerated the flame on your lighter and the smoke. Everything else was there.’ The girl locked eyes with Aya. ‘You never knew you could be so much a creature of beauty and poise, did you?’
Aya shook her head. ‘That is…’ She pulled the cigarette from her lips, lost for words.
‘Yes.’ the girl hugged Aya, ‘Thanks for your help! I never could have done this well without your showing up.’
‘No, thank you,’ Aya hugged back, ‘I really needed the support.’
‘Well, it’s time for dinner.’ the girl rubbed her belly, ‘Maybe I’ll see you later.’ She waved as she rushed out of the room.
‘Wait! What’s your name!?’ But the girl was gone.
Aya picked up her watch. Right in the middle of the dinner hour. She quickly changed back. She wrapped the sword carefully and folded the dress. She laid the dress on the top of the mysterious other things piled in the chest and slipped it shut. The heavy lid clicked quietly as it latched and Aya grabbed up her bag, dashing up of the room and through the maze of shelves.

Aya dropped breathless in front of her friend and roommate, Janet. ‘Where did you go?’ Janet glared, ‘I looked all over that library for you and the only people I found were James and Landria making out in a dark corner.
‘I found a hidden door in the library and had a chat with the girl that paints there.’ Janet stopped, food halfway to her mouth.
‘Did you ever listen to the whole story?’ Janet asked. ‘That girl is a vampire and she tricks you into posing for a painting and then she EATS YOU!’ Janet sat back from her outburst, ‘If you’re going to lie, at least say you fought her off or something…’
‘Ask Mr. Cain. I was there!’ Aya then remembered why she had been in the library in the first place. ‘We can copy the map after you finish eating.’
‘Yeah, sure…’ Janet mumbled.

It had been more than a week. It was a sunny, warm Saturday and the bus to town was about to make it‘s monthly run. Aya had lost the coin toss to Janet and carried the list of things they needed from the town that the school couldn’t, or wouldn’t, provide.
When she got to the gate, the mass of students waiting for the bus was quite large. She settled near the gate, away from the mass of people, but near enough to catch the bus.
Thoughts of the painter girl had fought aside the other things in her mind all week.
‘Hey…’ Aya looked up from her notebook where she had been idly doodling. James stood over her.
‘Did you have a reason for bothering me?’ Aya nearly gasped at the words she spoke.
James gaped at her for half a moment. ‘I, uh… just wanted to know if you still needed a date for the dance that’s coming up.’ He blurted the whole thing out in one long word before regaining his composure and pushing back his hair. ‘You know, if you don’t have a date or anything else going on.’
Aya wasn’t impressed. ‘Where’s Landria? Isn’t she your girlfriend, after all?’
‘We had a falling out.’ James knelt down, ‘So will you join me at the dance?’
Aya smiled. She had been planning this speech for a week, though she hadn’t believed she would ever get to use it; ‘James, a week ago, you would have stepped over me, if not on me, had I fallen in your path. And now you want me by your side.’ She saw it working as he grinned.
‘But I don’t play second fiddle and I am not to be picked up when the first pick is gone.’ His smile faltered.
Aya needed a guy, quickly. She saw the Role Players’ Club nearby. Her eyes picked out the tallest of the group. ‘Parric? A word?’ she called out. The long haired boy crane necked over the small group and came over at a leisurely jog. ‘Yeah?’
‘Didn’t you ask me to the dance the other day?’
He nodded, ‘And you told me then you would. Had a change of heart?’ He tipped his head toward James in a discrete fashion. It looked almost innocent.
Aya remembered what she had said. ‘Sure, why not. It’s not like James is going to ask.’
‘No.’ She looked back at James, ‘Sorry, I appear to be taken.’ Parric extended a hand and Aya took it. Parric pulled her to her feet and threw his arm around her shoulder, as though they were good friends.
‘Sorry to drag you in like that.’
‘No problem. It’s about time he got shut down.’ Parric chuckled, ‘And passed over for an RPer. That has got to drop his charisma a one die six for a two die ten.’
Aya could only look confused.
Parric smiled, ‘He looses face for the next few hours.’ Aya laughed with him. Together they sat under a tree a short ways away. ‘So how long are you going to follow me?’ Aya asked.
‘Until he stops.’ Aya glanced in the direction Parric watched. James stood against the wall. He had a glowering look on his face. Like a fire smoldered where his heart should have been.
‘Why is he acting like this all of the sudden?’
Parric took Aya by the chin and pulled her face around. ‘What rock have you been under? Haven’t you seen the poster that got put up in the student lounge?’
‘I don’t go in there unless I’m dieing for a spare notepad.’ Aya spoke softly, ‘What is it a poster of?’
Parric pulled off his glasses, wiping them on his shirt slowly, ‘It is a replica of a painting that a local artist recently finished. It is titled The Huntress and the first reproduction, not the original, and not even by the artist, but a copy by someone else, has already sold for two million even. And it hasn’t even been started yet.’ He replaced his glasses and looked Aya in the eye. ‘I would not have seen the poster either, but I was in the lounge for pencil lead refills when I saw it. I also picked up one of the last few postcards.’
He opened his tote bag and pulled out what looked like a diary. He let the pages separate and there was the postcard. A smaller version of the painting that everyone was panicking over. It was the picture of Aya. The one the painter girl had done.
Aya gasped. He closed the book. ‘From what I hear, the poster appeared on Thursday. Aren’t you glad I asked on Wednesday?’ He was quiet a short moment. ‘Hey, are you alright?’ Aya shook herself.
‘Yes, fine…’
‘I think I’m coming to town with you.’ He laid a hand on her shoulder, ‘I hadn’t planned on it, but I think you need an escort.’
The bus pulled to a stop and the crowd parted in two directions, many heading for the bus, most going back into the school.
Aya and Parric headed for the bus and climbed aboard. They sat in the first seat behind the driver. There were a few seats between them and everyone else, and a whole bus between them and James.
The road was smooth and fairly calm. Parric had a million small things to show and tell. He explained his place in the RP club and who all the key figures were. He also produced a marker and begged Aya to autograph the postcard.
‘What is the artist’s name?’ Aya asked as she scribbled her name on the card.
‘No one really knows. Her work is published under what most believe to be a pen name; Avalawen.’ Parric accepted the signed card, sliding back into the diary book.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ Aya pointed at the green canvas tome.
Parric chuckled, ‘Yes, it is indeed a diary of sorts. It is the events in the life of my RP club character.’
Aya looked into his tote, wondering what else might be hiding within. ‘And I can’t tell you about any of it unless you join the RP club.’
Aya shook her head, ‘Not today. Maybe later.’ She faced Parric, ‘But do tell me about him. Your character…’ She had heard that when released from the binding chains, a person would act out their true nature. Whatever that nature was.
‘His name is Solarin. He is a fighting wizard, skilled in both sword play and magic use. His voice is calm and soft and his kindness is what gets him in the most trouble. It seems like every time he tries to do a good deed, it backfires. I’m beginning to think one of the party members is jinxed and forgot to tell us.’
Aya waited. ‘And?’ she prompted.
‘And,’ Parric settled into his seat, ‘You have to make a character before I can tell you anymore.’
‘It seems like a clever trap to get new players into the club.’ Aya made a face.
‘Be that as it may, we’re getting close to town.’
The town was little more than a gathering of shops and a gas station. The last stop before the isolated school and two hundred miles in either direction to the next little town. The town survived on the school and the regular highway traffic.
Despite the lack of many things, there was a museum. And as the bus pulled up into the dirt lot next to the highway intersection, the banner in the front could be read; ‘The Huntress by Avalawen on view’. And a line of people stretched out of the museum and halfway down the street.
‘At least you’ve got your glasses. And with your hair up, maybe they won’t recognize you?’ Parric glanced up. None of the other students were even looking at them.
Aya hesitated.
‘Alright you two, off the bus.’ The driver was up and watching them, ‘Motel is across the street.’ Aya blushed and got up, Parric followed.
In the warm afternoon sun, Aya felt better. A slight breeze toyed with the air, eddies that struck out playfully at random. Aya took the hair band Parric offered her and tied her hair back in a messy bun. Head high and smiling, Aya tugged down her jacket and set off for the general store. Mason’s Sundries.
Mr. Mason had everything from ice cream to health food to cigarettes. Magazines, school supplies, and pocket games. The store was busy, but as empty as it would get while the students were in town. A local deputy stood behind the counter, eyes on the convex mirrors that laid every nook and cranny wide open.
Aya picked up a basket and wandered the isles, dropping items into the basket before ticking them off her list. Parric trailed behind her, very carefully ignoring one side of the isle when they strolled through feminine hygiene. They had gotten to the counter when the deputy cleared his throat at her.
‘Miss.’ he looked at her very carefully, his huge mirrored sunglasses covering almost half his face.
‘Yes?’ Aya paused, a worried look on her face.
‘Now don’t turn around,’ he said very quietly and very slowly, ‘But I believe the president of your fan club has been following you a little too intently.’
Aya strained her own vision, looking hard at the reflection in the deputy’s glasses. Standing near the end cap of the magazine isle, in a slightly distorted fashion, was James. He had a fashion magazine in his hands, though he leafed through the pages, his eyes on Aya and a dark scowl was on his face.
‘Thank you, officer.’ Aya shuffled down the counter and Mr. Morgan began to sort through her items, ringing them up with speed and skill.
‘You see!’ a girl’s voice shouted, ‘I told you James had a head for fashion!’ Aya risked a glance over her shoulder and saw James was swamped by girls. He had looked down at the magazine in his hands before clenching his fists angrily.
‘So do you think the reverse bubble flip with the jaw slope is going to make a comeback, or is the long banged pony tail going to be the next big thing?’
‘No way! See the page he’s on now?’ One of the girls pulled the magazine down so all could see, ‘The leaning loop braid twister is the up and coming star.’
Aya paid for her wares and ducked out while James was bogged down by the hair obsessed fashion slaves.
‘But that is sooo last season!’ Parric mocked the girls as they strolled in the sunlit street.
The line around the museum hadn’t grown any shorter, despite the fact that it moved steadily.
The bus still sat in the empty lot, dark and silent. The driver was nowhere to be seen.
‘Ice cream?’ Parric pointed to the old time shop. Really, it was a tiny building with a large window in the only door.
Aya looked at him with a hard look in her eye, ‘You invite yourself as a bodyguard and suddenly we’re on a date?’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Parric threw an arm over her shoulder and led her toward the stand surrounded by umbrella covered tables. Most of the umbrellas were closed so the patrons could bask in the warm sunlight as they enjoyed the frozen treats.
Parric strolled up to the window, ‘What’s your favorite fruit?’
‘Just pick the flavor used the least. That ought to interesting.’ Aya looked on the list to the right, wondering which flavor she would wind up with.
Parric shrugged, ‘Two shaved ice, mediums, please. One three blend surprise and one that bottle waaay in the back with the dust on it.’
The old woman, perhaps in her sixties, moved with grace and speed, picking up the first three bottles she laid hands on, ‘Monkey Banana, Tropic Haze, and Purple Stuff?’ She asked, reading the labels.
‘Sounds good.’ Parric watched as she loaded a cup with flakes of ice that rushed from the machine like a snow blower. Then she spun the cup around and tipped the three bottles up, pouring syrup into the frost. She set down the bottles and pushed the finished product to the window, a mess of yellow, teal, and neon purple stripes.
The old lady then leaned down and opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle filled with a thick red syrup.
‘I haven’t had this one out since it cool to be a vampire and the stand was open all night so we could serve it.’ She looked Aya squarely in the eye, ‘Care for a taste test before I mix it up?’
‘It can’t hurt to try.’
The lady shrugged and grabbed a plastic spoon. She scooped up some of the loose debris and dripped a drop into the ice. She handed it to Aya who sniffed it and then stuck the spoon in her mouth.
‘Oh, wow!’ She sucked the spoon clean, ‘That is really good!’
‘What’s it taste like?’ Parric twirled his spoon in his cup.
‘It’s a good kind of a steely flavor, like a silver spoon, you know? And there is a sort of faint cinnamon undertone. There are other things in there, but they all blend into a smooth kind of feel.’ Aya nodded to the ice cream lady, ‘Yes, please.’
The lady tipped her head and smiled, ‘I’ve never seen them give that reaction before. Most of the kids think it’s just plain disgusting.’ She filled a cup with frost and poured in the syrup, ‘Took me forever to figure out what that flavor reminded me of.’ she went on as she handed it to Aya, ‘It hit me like a brick through a plate glass window one afternoon when I was chopping vegetables for a soup and nicked my finger. Without a second thought, I sucked on the cut to get it to stop bleeding and I found the strange flavor right there in my own veins.’
Aya accepted the cup, a little nervously. ‘What’s it called?’ Aya read as the lady turned the label toward her.
AB-.
‘Oh, don’t worry, child. I’m not going to wave a banner and declare you evil.’ The old woman laughed, ‘I’m kind of partial to rhubarb and burned toast myself.’
Parric left a handful of bills inside the window and picked a seat in strong light.
‘That is sort of weird’ The boy gestured to the dark burgundy shaved ice.
Aya nibbled at it as it melted, ‘Want to try some?’
He hesitated before shaking his head, ‘Naw, maybe next time.’
‘Afraid it really tastes like blood and you’ll like it?’ Aya smirked. Then blushed and hid her face. *That wasn’t supposed to come out like that! I can’t believe I said that!* Aya shouted in her mind.
Parric was equally taken aback. *I thought she was a shy bookworm. Who is she really?*
He smiled as a clever, though simple, plan laid itself out before him. ‘Actually it’s about your fan club.’
Aya turned and dug into her tote for cigarettes, glancing back as she did. James leaned against the side of the bus. Sill alone, still smoldering.
With her cover retrieved, Aya sat back up and plucked a cigarette from the pack.
‘You smoke?’ Parric had a funny look on his face.
‘Not really,’ Aya toyed with her lighter, ‘It’s just something I started to give myself an excuse to leave gatherings. Or to fit in with the other smokers.’ She opened the lighter and struck a flame.
‘It works well to see who’s behind you too.’ Aya could feel sass welling up in her. She seriously thought about lighting the cigarette and actually smoking it.
Parric reached across the table and closed the lighter, smothering the flame. ‘Let’s get down to business.’ He pulled a thick binder from his tote and laid it on the table. It opened to reveal maps and pocket notepads and an array of pens and pencils. There were character sketches of people and places and creatures and all sorts of objects. The maps were littered with foot notes and penciled in roads.
‘This is the world, as I know it.’ He pulled a sheet out from the stack of reference papers. It was a young man with long, dark hair and goggles over his eyes. His armor was plate leather and a long sword with a thin, meandering blade rested with it’s tip on the ground and the pommel waist high.
‘This is Solarin.’
‘He looks a lot like you?’ Aya took in the proud pose and could see Parric standing like that.
‘You’ll find that most RPers tend to do that. We are comfortable with who we are. But some paint their characters as they would like to see themselves.’
‘Like someone a little overweight would have a slimmer character.’
‘More or less.’ Parric pulled out a short stack of papers. The top one looked like a file you had to fill out for something official. ‘Now don’t panic. This is just the paperwork. And some of it will have to wait until you’ve played the character a while before you’ve got an answer.’
Aya looked the sheet over. The questions and blanks covered everything from their name, to paralyzing fears, to their favorite color. ‘I think I’ll be…Rose. Razor Rose.’
‘Strong name. Good start.’ Parric nodded. ‘What race?’
Aya grinned a wicked grin. One she was using a lot lately. ‘Vampire.’

After a long bus ride, filled with the nervous attempts not to look back at the scowling face of a stalker, they arrived at the school. Aya and Parric hurried to disembark. Janet had been waiting under the cover of one of the trees. She came over to them, giving Parric a quizzical look as he nodded to Aya and walked away.
‘What’s with him?’
Aya shrugged, ‘He thought he’d come along, so I let him. James was acting weird.’
‘Weird how?’ Janet led the way back to the doors nearest the girls’ dorm.
Aya took a long breath, ‘He asked me the dance next week.’
Janet gaped, hands covering her mouth.
‘And I turned him down.’
Janet squeaked in shock, her hands falling away.
‘I was already going with Parric. It would be cruel to drop him like that.’ Aya half glared at her friend, ‘And I just wouldn’t do that.’
Janet gathered herself, ‘Understandable, but you just turned down James Marion. And the shortest route to being popular in the world.’
‘Great, popular with people who wouldn’t have given me the time of day otherwise.’ Aya rolled her eyes, ‘I call it empty faith.’
‘Whatever.’ Janet looked over her shoulder at some noise Aya was going to ignore.
‘You had better take a second look at that empty faith…’
Aya looked back. James had gotten off the bus and was steaming back to the front steps with long strides.
Landria, her long red hair streaming beautifully, ran to his side, all smiles and hugs. She stopped a few paces short, and Aya would have sworn she saw the falter in the smile, the joy slip before it had to be forced back into place.
James walked past the outstretched arms without pause.
Something was said and Landria turned, taking hold of James’s arm, holding it to her.
‘Stop playing.’ she said. Though Aya was only lip reading.
James halted long enough to whip the girl from his arm. Landria landed hard, sitting on the grass.
‘Grass stains on the panties…’ Janet almost chuckled.
Aya felt herself frowning. James was pointing down at his former girlfriend. Because this was blunt. His finger jabbed as he said something, then sliced through the air. Aya couldn’t see his face, but the shocked look on the faces of those near enough to hear him were enough.
James spun on his heel and marched away. The girls that had always been on Landria’s elbows now fawned at James as he passed. After the first to try to buddy up was shrugged off, none of the others got within arm’s reach, but they all trailed after him.
The few that were left quietly vacated, only the lower echelon students bothered to look down at Landria. If any of them said anything, they were unheard.
Because just then, all of Landria’s attention was focused on Aya with a glare meant to kill.
‘Just more petty drama.’ Aya tugged her hair down and turned so that it flashed in the sunlight.

Finally, after two days of careful planning, Aya was prepared to enter the world of Haidan.
‘You joined the RP club?!’ Janet shouted. ‘Why?’
Aya hadn’t had an answer. Instead, she had gathered her things and left. And now she stood beside Parric in the hall reserved for the RP club. It had probably once been important, the high vaulted ceiling, the tall windows, the insanely massive table. A giant poster hung where the tapestry of a mighty king might have gone. It was a map with the label ‘Welcome to Haidan’ stenciled over one of the oceans.
‘It looks like most of today’s members are present.’ Parric pushed up his glasses as he led Aya across the room, toward the head of the table.
‘Today’s?’
‘Well, after a while, the group grew, and when there were too many people, it got hard to play a good game.’
Aya tried to count heads, there seemed to be about twelve other people.
Parric continued, nodding to people who greeted him, ‘So we split the group. It’s happened again a few times, and now we have five groups and three Story Tellers.’
‘And the story teller leads the group?’
‘Actually, the players roam more or less freely. The Teller just lets us know what sort of trouble we’re getting into and speaks for everyone that isn’t a player.’
‘Solarin!’ A voice called out from the head of the table.
Parric looked up and waved back, ‘Teller Cain. It is good to see you again.’
Aya looked around the people in the way and her jaw hung a little slack. The old librarian sat at the head of the table, a massive array of books, papers, note pads and maps were laid out before him. A large display case of dice was open and resting on top of a short stack of notebooks, a few of the brightly colored polygons were scattered among the mess.
‘An’ who do we have here?’ Cain gestured at Aya.
‘Forgive me,’ Parric opened his own reference library and pulled out a thin stack of papers, sketches of Aya’s character with a bit of basic information penciled in, ‘I introduce Lady Razor Rose, a vampiress from the tombs of Eirutrak.’
Cain gave the picture a hard eye. It wasn’t that much different from Aya, in fact, she had sat for the sketch. The character sat reclined on the branch of a tree with the full moon looking down on her, a short sword on her hip and her lighter in her hand. She wore a protective leather jerkin and her boots came up past her knees. Long gloves with no fingers came to her elbows and her fangs pressed on her bottom lip, exposing themselves. Aya handed a copy of her information sheet over, ‘Lady Rose, please. Razor to my friends.’ Cain smiled and read over the sheet quickly.
‘The tombs of Eirutrak are famous for their supernatural creatures; vampires with no fear o’ daylight nor need o’ blood. But it seems tha’ despite yer great strengths, ye have some very potent weaknesses…’ Cain set the sheet down and tapped it with one of his age gnarled fingers, ‘Sensitivity ta silver, allergy to common healing potions, unable to tolerate healing magic. You should stay close ta Janrel. She is an empathic healer and could use tha protection o’ a good blade.’
Parric tipped his head, ‘Janrel? Who is she?’
Cain lifted his arm high and waved at someone. Aya looked and received another powerful shock. Janet was not only present, and apparently the healer Janrel, but she was dressed in costume; a tall staff of wood that could have been a struggling sapling with a glass orb wound into the tangled branches, long robes of a yellow white kept together at the waist by a wide black cloth belt with a brass buckle that looked like two rings locking together.
‘You must be Lady Rose.’ Janet bowed, ‘The pleasure of our acquaintance is mine.’
Aya shook herself, remembering to try to stay in character, ‘Miss Janrel,’ she bowed back, ‘And call me Razor.’
Cain pulled an ornate pocket watch from his tunic and then sent a loud echo of knuckles on wood through the room. The conversations ebbed and people began to take seats. Aya found herself between Janet and Parric as she arranged her things. She looked up and saw that besides her friends, only three other people were seated at the table. The others, five she recognized as struggling drama club students, sat at a second, smaller table. They seemed caught up in rehearsing quietly and were handing papers back and forth.
‘Introductions are in order,’ Cain stood and passed a picture of her character as well as one of Janet’s to each of the table members, handing extras of the other players to them both.
‘As ye’re passing through Eirutrak, as ye all decided last week, ye opt to add the talents of one o’ their naturally adept healers to yer party. Ye’re now at the city gates, as ye were when we left off…’
Parric shifted in his seat and touched a miniature that represented himself on the map before them all. The miniature flickered, the icon on the screen accepting his touch as being in play. ‘Gentlemen, we have traveled these lands long enough to know one and other quite well…’ the other players nodded, each touched their own miniature, beginning the game, ‘But I grow ever weary, as I have said before, of paying high prices for a decent healing and the taste of heath potions is one I know far too well.’ The others grumbled their agreement.
‘Solarin,’ The overweight boy spoke up, he was towering over the table, even as he sat, ‘I follow you from deepest bogs to tallest mountain and you always lead good path.’
‘It is true,’ The center boy spoke up. He was well built, and Aya could have sworn she had seen him on the baseball team, ‘Though we are the smallest of the Seven Bands, we have done many great things. Our names are known throughout the lands. We have you to thank.’
The last boy, skinny as a rail and pinch faced, like he was about thirty pounds underweight, spoke as well, ‘For a long time I have longed for a companion in Arcanum. Anyone who could follow the stars and, though you yourself are quite adept, we are overdue for the company of one who mends bones, rather than breaks them.’
‘They’re just kissing up,’ Cain whispered between Janet and Aya, ‘Agreeing ta take ye in at the table.’
‘And why not break bones?’ The large boy asked.
‘That isn’t the point, Shmall. We need a healer or we will continue to spend a fortune in healing potions.’
‘Jak is right, Shmall.’ The athlete piped up, ‘Even the greatest warriors can become overwhelmed by their foes.’
‘Well said Malgondion.’ Parric, now Solarin, clenched one fist, ‘Now, into the city to find our healer!!’
In an appalling anticlimax, each boy picked up a laser pointer and moved his own miniature along the map, following Solarin as he led the party through the streets.
Aya shifted through the stack of papers she had received. Shmall was an ogre, a giant with a great hammer. His sketch was a little rough, but the ogre’s foot on the body of a fallen knight was clear.
Jak was a horse of a different color altogether. A wizard in flowing blue robes and a tall pointed cap. His sketch showed a master with fire in one hand and a massive book in the other. The hem of the robes shimmered with golden runes and a tiny dragon perched on his shoulder. The name of the dragon was Kraket, but it a foot note informed that the dragonlet was dead.
The athletic one was at the bottom. Malgondion, or Mal for short, was an elfish archer. He had obtained his bow from the darker realms of Haidan and was an expert archer.
The screen display in the table changed suddenly, attracting Aya’s attention. A spare laser dot popped up as one of the drama students began a rehearsed line; ‘Welcome, travelers! The Sanctuary of Life greets you warmly. What is it we can offer to such men as stand before us now?’
‘We came,’ Mal began, ‘Because we heard that one of your priests had itchy feet.’
‘That is mostly truth,’ The drama guy continued, ‘But the one you seek is not what you are expecting, I am certain.’
Aya turned to the page at the bottom of the stack, Janet/Janrel’s sketch was that of a priestess dressed as she was with her staff held high. Holy light glowed from the glass orb and the great knight she stood behind was impaled with dozens of arrows. Though no single person could be identified as the knight, the fact that his falling blood began to glow as it trailed back into his body was what the real center of the sketch was about.
And there was a footnote marked on the page. Unnatural fear of undead and vampires. Loss of her family due to zombie horde.
Janrel activated her character with a quick flash of the pointer, ‘Are you the ones to take me from this place, that I may avenge my family? Or do you come for a quick healing?’
‘We have come seeking your abilities and willingness to travel the far reaches of the lands, Arcanist.’ Jak dipped his head, ‘Any missions of vengeance can be easily accomplished along the way.’
‘I could use the aid of such men, then.’ Janrel, for she was no longer the Janet that Aya had eaten lunch with earlier, moved her character toward the door, ‘Let’s be off then. There is a lich rising and I hope to quell it before innocent lives are lost.’
‘Lich?’ Shmall asked, almost nervously.
‘…Yes,’ the drama guy read a few lines from the paper he held, ‘It is stirring in the old ruins of Eirutrak. All manner of undead creatures have surfaced and they are becoming more powerful. A few local adventurers have set off, men with this Sanctuary’s blessing, and holy items, but I fear they lack the skill needed to complete an undertaking of this magnitude.’
‘Solarin, necro isn’t my strong suit.’ Jak hissed under his breath.
‘Crushing is Shmall’s strong pants! We be victor!’
‘Mal?’ Solarin looked to the last of the party.
‘Doesn’t do much good to feather the heart of a skelly… I’m either way.’
‘Then it looks we go to the Tombs. Anyone need anything special before we go?’ Solarin received only shakes of the head from all the members.
‘And so yer off.’ Cain stood up and reached out, pressing a dial. The map zoomed out until only small markers hovered over the buildings of the city. A short ways away, another marker popped up. It was this one that Cain zoomed in on. ‘And while ye lot are passin’ tha time, Lady Rose gets her feet un’erneath o’ her.’
The zoom passed into one of many crypts and focused on the single sarcophagus within. The stone chest was open and a woman sat on it. With features frighteningly similar to her own, Aya slipped into her role, becoming the voice and will of Lady Razor Rose.

By the thin light of the tinkered oil lamp, Razor could see around the crypt she was interred in. It wasn’t much, but it usually kept the dead in their graves. She was an exception. Walking to the only door, she pushed gently, feeling the weight of the stone slab shift as counterweights lightened the load. Outside, three young men in white ponchos fought a small group of zombies and skeletons. Most of the opposition was unarmed and none of it was armored. The smell of sweat and hot blood made her lips quiver and her belly ache.
Razor pushed down these cold feelings. Even though she was a vampire, she was no undead soul sucker. She was still alive, still mortal.
And as she watched the young men fight, she wandered near.
With a sudden shout, they turned to her. Knocking down the last of the shambling dead, the three regrouped and advanced on her. Their swords were steel, but charged with holy power. Even a normal person would receive a grievous wound from them. One of them carried a silver dagger. She could smell it. The silver. Like a clove of garlic, freshly sliced.
‘Friends! I am pleased you are here! I know where the crypt of the evil lies. Let me lead you there, that we may lay low the influence that raises the dead from their rest!’ Razor held out a hand in a friendly manner, but the men said nothing as they stalked closer, fanning out to surround her.
‘Fellas… come on… I am not your enemy here!’

‘Silence, temptress!’ One of the drama boys shouted, the malice in his voice seemed genuine, as did the gleam in his eye, he held an air-sword in his hands, as if ready to strike, ‘Your lies shall not foul our wills, or our goals!! Prepare to be laid to rest, the hard way!’

The leader shot forward and with speed surpassing human abilities, Razor had drawn her sword and sliced at his poncho. The blade cut away the fabric from his front, scoring the steel plate he wore beneath. Now outside the ring, Razor balanced her blade and gauged the men before her.
With a wild battle cry, she lunged forward with a wide swipe, her blade slashing the throat of the nearest. The fountain of blood washed his white poncho crimson and he dropped, clutching at the fatal wound.
The smell of hot blood hit like the smell of a pastry shop, Razor’s mouth watered and her hunger came around in full force.

Aya looked at the die in her hand, each had ten sides and was stenciled zero to nine. ‘I have to roll a what?’
‘A 95%’ Parric explained quickly, ‘Means you have to get ninety-five or better out a hundred.’
With a gulp of apprehension, Aya held her breath and dropped the dice…

Razor ripped her attention away from the deliciously hot blood and back to the battle, bringing one boot around in a powerful roundhouse that caught the second boy in the cheek. Teeth flew from his spinning head as his neck snapped and he toppled to the ground like a scarecrow.
A stab of white hot fire under her skin wiped all sense of victory from the vampiress’s mind and she dropped her sword. She howled in agony and rage as she came around, a wicked backhand sending the boy with the silver dagger sprawling. The scent of hot blood still sticky in the air, Razor listened to the weak whimper of prey and fell over the boy, slapping the dagger from his hand and pinning his sword to the ground as she stared into his soul through his eyes…

‘No…please…’ the drama boy whimpered as if pinned under the seductive gaze Cain had described.
Aya smiled as she thought about what was coming, that this was his just desserts for using such a commanding tone with her earlier. She passingly wondered what his blood type was. The thought was quickly pushed away, but hovered in the background…

Razor’s fangs pierced the flesh like ripe fruit and blood welled up in her mouth, hot and steely sweet. It filled her with warm pleasure, driving the chill of the grave from her very bones. As she drank, she felt her strength grow, as if it were the first restorative meal for a starving man. The boy beneath her sighed as he gave in to the pleasure of her life stealing kiss and again in a death rattle as his heart stilled.

Cain turned his attention to a low beeping as Aya laid out her plan of action for the next few moments.
‘I’ve got news fer ye all. Tha weatherman was wrong about tha front stayin’ on top o’ tha mountain. Tha weather has changed an’ it may no’ be fer tha’ better…’
Razor stood, pulling the dagger sheath from the boy’s waist and tying it to her own belt, at the small of her back. The dagger lay a short distance away. The first drops of a drizzle fell as Razor stooped to pick up the silver weapon. It felt uncomfortably warm in her hand, like it was an ember waiting to burn when you weren’t watching. It was how silver reacted with Razor’s blood. They just didn’t get along well.
She dropped the prize in the sheath, feeling the warmth at her back. The sheath didn’t silence the angry ember, but quieted it enough to keep it from being threatening.
She began to trace the paths of her memory, looking for the crypt of the lich.

Cain tapped the table for the attention of all. ‘As fer tha rest of ye, ye’ve seen the mauled bodies of tha local fauna tha was too slow or too stupid te run away. Ye get to tha gates o’ tha tombs an’ find tha’ they’ve been broken down from tha inside. The rain has softened tha ground an’ ye can see a woman just inside tha gates. It looks as though she‘s headed fer tha crypt o’ tha former Baron o’ Eirutrak…’

Razor moved with purpose, now that she had found the root of the dead raising influence. The snicker of a horse startled her and she dropped to one knee, grabbing the hilt of her sword as she turned.
The sound of the increasing rainfall had muffled the foot falls of the five riding beasts and their riders. A great ogre sat on the back of a massive draft horse, an elf on a very unamused looking panther, a woman in healer’s robes on a pony, a mage on what could only be a four legged tarantula, and on a horse in the lead sat a man wearing goggles. ‘Stay your sword! We mean no harm to anyone who is not risen from the grave.’
Razor stood, pushing her hair out of her face, ‘We should have no quarrel then. What brings you to this place in such weather?’ Razor waved at the storm clouds overhead.
‘We could ask the same of you.’
Razor chuckled, ‘Oh, just out for a stroll, take in some fresh air, slay a rising evil. Nothing really noteworthy.’
‘I am here in the name of vengeance!’ The woman in healer’s robes called from her pony. ‘These travelers have agreed to be my sword, and I in turn shall follow them in their adventures afterward.’
‘Adventure, eh?’ Razor stroked her cheek. ‘Care to give me a hand?’
‘We here for dead. If you no dead, you can come.’ The ogre dropped from his horse, a massive hammer in his hands, ‘But if you dead, we put you back for good.’
Razor stiffened, ‘Is that a threat?’

The others all laughed around the table. ‘Are you really ready to fight all of us, dear Razor?’ The ogre player laughed.

‘What my ineloquent comrade means to say,’ The sorcerer stepped from his mount as it slipped into the earth like melting wax, ‘Is that we have the same mission, and that you are welcome to join us in that endeavor.’
‘Lady Rose is my name. But my friends call me Razor. At least, they would were it that I had any.’
The wizard bowed, ‘Well met, Lady Rose. I am Jak, Wizard Arcanum. The elf is Malgondion, an exceptional archer, the big boy there is Shmall. He breaks things.’
Shmall smiled broadly.
‘Our usual band leader is Solarin, a man unable to grasp the full beauty of rune craft, and is an accomplished swordsman as well, and finally, we have our healer and avenger of old wrath, Janrel.’
Janrel scowled toward Razor, but said nothing.

‘Who among thou is thee that stills my minions?’ Three of the drama students spoke in unison, the effect was a powerful, deep voice with a girl’s high tone to mix it around your ears.
‘What?’ Aya looked up, ‘I haven’t killed anyone!’
‘Don’t look at us, we just got here!’ Parric held his hands up defensively before sipping from a can of cola.
The drama kids whispered among themselves for a moment before speaking again; ‘The living invade thine domain and my followers are toppled. One of thou is thee which has done this act. All but that one may flee and live to see the next dawn.’ They paused to breathe, ‘But that one is to pay in blood for their transgression.’

All looked to Razor. ‘What? Are you really going to listen to some dried up old fart in a grave?’
‘Still thou’s insolent tongue!’ The great voice from the crypt shouted, rattling the loose bits of pottery and stone.
‘Hey!’ Razor pulled her sword free and pointed it at the vault door, ‘Come out here and say that!’
The color washed from Jak’s face and he magically erected a wall of mud that he ducked beneath, hands over his ears.
Before any of the others could react, a bolt of lightening struck the crypt, bits of stone flying in every direction and knocking all but Janrel to the muddy ground.
Jak stood up from behind his cover and Shmall leapt to his feet.
One heavy thud and a splash pulled attention to the ruined wall of the tomb. Just outside the broken wall stood a golem of rotting flesh and bone. It laughed in it’s three throated voice before raising an arm and pointing at Razor, ‘Thou knowist not her place in this world.’
Razor readied her blade, ‘I am really done listening to you, you rotting bag of worm feed!’
The golem roared and charged, great fists covered in shards of broken bone flailing like pinwheels. Razor tried to block one of the limbs, but failed, her own arm broken as she was swept to one side, sliding in the mud.
The high tone of Janrel’s voice chanted quickly and Razor could see a smoky tendril of life-force extend itself to Shmall. It wrapped around him, dipping into his own aura and he howled as his muscles bulged. His cry was not one of pain, but a battle cry. He raised his hammer over his head and rushed at the golem. He stopped one pin wheeling fist with the head of his hammer, the sound of flesh ripping and bone crunching was loud and gruesome. The stink of old blood, stagnant in the veins, twisted her stomach upside down. Razor fought to keep her own meal down…

‘Wait,’ Aya raised her hand, ‘If I did vomit, would it still look like blood?’
Everyone shrugged, even Cain.
‘Anyway…’ Jak said, ‘Casting Orb of Lava Bomb.’ He dropped the die. ‘Yes!’
Cain surveyed the die, ‘Tha spell fires and tha flesh golem o’ tha baron is engulfed in flame. It is not long before he falls, tha body consumed te cinders.’
On the table, the icon-figure of the golem burst into tiny flames as a fireball hit it. It fell to it’s knees and then flickered out, replaced with a campfire icon.
‘Let me tend your arm, stranger.’ Janet prodded her figure with the laser pointer.
Cain stepped up behind the dressed up girl, ‘As ye lay on hands, ye feel the warmth of life running from your hands into her, and her body seems to ignore tha power, though tha bone mends.’
‘What does her aura feel like?’
‘It is cold. There is warmth very deep down, but ‘tis cold an’ without mercy.’

Razor watched the healer warily as she worked. Her arm had been mended, the flow of life was strong, but bland. It made her stomach turn, but she kept her innards in. And then she felt a shock of deep, artic cold. A cold that chilled the marrow of the bones.
She wailed and threw the healer back out of reflex, the shards of lifeless cold withdrawing as the hands parted.
‘What the hell did you do to me?’ Razor reached for her sword, and saw that Solarin had his foot on it.
Malgondion had an arrow knocked and drawn, his aim steady on her heart. Shmall just looked back and forth between them all, standing in front of Jak, as if shielding him.
‘You are not dead, but you should not still be alive.’ Janrel glared at her, holding the staff ready.
‘Your heart beats hot, but your blood runs cold. Who are you?’
Razor rose to her feet, keeping one hand back, straying toward the silver dagger. She could feel the heat of malice like a torch. ‘My name, as much of it as I can recall, is Rose. I awoke to find myself in a crypt and forced my way out. I came back to lay an evil to rest. The evil is at rest. I am done here.’ She turned to leave, to crawl back into her burial chamber. The whine of fletches hissed and an arrow tore into her leg, digging deeply through her foot and into the ground.
Razor did not cry out, but simply stopped, looking back at the group. ‘Have you lot got a problem with eternal rest?’
‘You are not dead,’ Jak stood nearer the front, ‘Well, not completely. You will find only a place to lie in a grave.’
‘Then I will lie in my grave and wait for the next lich, or a grave robber, or the end times. What more could you want of me?’
Jak spoke again, slowly and calmly, ‘And what if your hunger for blood should make itself known?’
Razor glared back, ‘Then I shall lay there and starve!’
‘We cannot allow that,’ Solarin sheathed his blade, ‘I can’t stand the idea of a lady suffering.’
Malgondion lowered his bow, letting the string relax, ‘Why not come with us?’
‘Yes,’ Shmall said, wiping a booger on his shirt, ‘Shmall ask who want live all time? Lie on ground, wait for last sunset. No fun.’ Shmall shook his head, as if trying to press the point, ‘But you come with us. We find death. Lots of death. Maybe for you one day we find some.’
Razor laughed. ‘I don’t think you should ever give that pitch to anyone else, ogre man. But I’ll come.’
Solarin handed Razor her sword. She dropped it in the sheath and looked to the adventurers.

‘Call me Razor.’ Aya said, ‘It was what my friends once called me.’
Cain clapped, ‘Well done, well done. Ye have lived ta fight another day!’ He pressed a button and the screen table beeped at them before blinking off.
‘I would like te congradulate our newest party members on a game well played. We’ll meet here again on Monday an’ find out what te do next.’ Cain began sifting the papers at the head of the table into the binders, as did the others.
Aya was quick to stow her things and waited outside for Janet. When the robed girl came out, she had her staff in one hand and her books in the other.
‘So, how long have you been in the RP club?’ Aya asked as they began to walk back to their room.
Janet took a deep breath, ‘About a week and a half now. I sat in on almost all the groups, trying to find one that was in an interesting place. I decided yesterday that I would play with Parric’s band.’ She looked up, ‘I had no idea you were even considering joining until you left this afternoon.’
A distant, powerful rumble shook the stonework around the pair and they paused.
‘Sounded like thunder…’ Aya looked up and down the corridor. Everyone else had gone back to the boy’s dormitory or the cafeteria.
The floor shook as another blast of muffled thunder rumbled around them. And before the grumble subsided, the lights blinked out.
Janet grabbed onto Aya’s arm in the sudden dark, a whimper of fright escaping her lips.
This close, Aya could swear she smelled something. Almost like a bad perfume, seeping up from Janet.
‘Just the musty scent on her costume…’ Aya whispered to herself. Though it smelled vaguely sweat like.
Janet said nothing as she clung to the arm. Using her free hand, Aya dug into her tote.
‘What’s moving?’ Janet whispered. The smell grew stronger. Maybe it was sweat.
‘I’m just getting a light.’ Aya found the small metal case and drew it forth. With a flip and a flick, the flame came faithfully to life, illuminating the stone walls and the wide eyed Janet.
‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark…’ Aya looked down at her best friend.
Janet looked up and down the corridor, ‘Not the dark,’ she whispered nervously, ‘Just the things in it.’ She leaned closer, the smell she was giving off was wickedly strong, though Aya found that it was not really unpleasant. ‘The things you can’t see creeping up on you.’ She hissed in a whisper.
Aya pulled back from her friend, tugging forward. ‘We had better get back to the dorm before they start doing a head count. And you need a shower.’ Aya didn’t say that the way her friend smelled was making her twitch in ways she had never twitched before. She secretly wanted to blow out the light and scare the holy bejesus out of her friend, just to see how strong the smell got.
It was some urge from so far deep in her mind, it was hard to say what it meant. It was probably a juvenile urge to needle her about an obvious weakness. Like pulling the braids of the long haired girl. Something you stopped doing in grade school.
Aya couldn’t understand her fear. After a few minutes, she could nearly read by the bright flame of her lighter. And still Janet held onto her arm like a child afraid of getting lost and left behind.
The thunder would rumble, and as they approached their destination, the lightening would flash blindingly bright through the windows.
Janet seemed to relax a bit. Either taking security in the split second visibility provided by lightening, or knowing that a safe haven was only moments away.
The door to the girls’ common room was open, a bright oil lamp sat perched on the center table and candles were set up around the room.
Assistant Headmistress Lanning had a clipboard and a pen and was flipping back and forth through a short stack of papers as she sat in the splash of light.
‘Mistress Lanning!’ Aya walked into the room, snapping her lighter shut with a practiced flip, ‘We’re not lost, I swear!’
Lanning looked up. ‘Miss Morgan, Miss Cooper. Good. Two more accounted for.’ She turned a page and checked a mark, flipped back to the top and checked another.
‘The storm seems to have disrupted our power supply for the moment.’ Lanning explained in a smooth tone, ‘It will be repaired by tomorrow afternoon. Until dawn, you should remain in the dormitory. Unless, of course, you would like to help search for the missing, in case they are lost or injured.’ She delivered the last part in a hard tone with a strong eye at the girls. As if this were a little more than a suggestion.
Aya could see that the surplus of flashlights seemed to mean that there were few volunteers out looking.
‘I’ll leave Janet with you, Mistress Lanning. She twisted her ankle on the stairs, but I don’t think it’s too bad.’
‘The stairs can be treacherous.’ Lanning nodded and held out a flashlight. ‘If you find any other girls, keep them with you, but return after one round. Anyone still missing is probably trying not to be found.’
‘Yes, Ma’am.’ Aya took the flashlight and left Janet in the perceived safety of the dormitory.

‘Great…’ Aya had wandered the halls for nearly an hour, checking every landing for toppled students and finding only darkness and silence. The storm was freakishly fast and had moved on, almost peacefully, as if its only means and reason was to terrorize the school and be on its way.
Standing in the main hall, Aya had run into a few other volunteers. All of them teachers. And all surprised to see a student wandering the halls. A few were skeptical when she explained herself, but didn’t say anything other than ‘move on’ or ‘keep looking’.
The doors to the library stood ajar and the faint whisper of a shout drifted from within.
‘That place is a maze during the day…’ Aya cringed at the thought of being lost there in the night, with the power out, and if you were alone…or hurt.
Aya stepped inside and listened. The hollow echo of a shout, too distant to be understood, drifted to her from over the high shelves.
She thought about calling out, but one of the screams, a shout was filled with something, this was a sound of fear, and it stilled her tongue. Aya headed toward the calls. As she followed them, they moved. Quickly. The slap of shoes was quick and the leading pair had a strange quality to it. Like the person kept looking back, side stepping for a few paces. And like one foot was different from the other. A limp, perhaps…
Aya quickened her own pace, chasing after the pair.
As she got ever closer, she could hear the screams more clearly. And they were screams. Pleas for help, for forgiveness.
Aya looked at the books on the shelves. Poetry. She knew this particular section. The layout came to her mind like a vision on a screen table. She guessed the distance of the screams from the girl and broke into a run, to head her off. The direction she was running and the way the shelves lined up…
Aya found herself in the line of flight sooner than she had thought and flicked off her flashlight, only to find she had already done so. And yet, as her heart picked up the pace to match her anticipation, she realized she could see very well.
*Must be moonlight…* She thought in her head.
The girl rounded the corner and ran down the only way she could go, toward Aya. Her blouse was torn and she had lost one shoe. The bun in her hair was coming loose in a dozen different directions and she was panting like an animal.
Aya waited as the girl got closer, waited as she looked over her shoulder for the pursuer, and then stepped out and grabbed her. One hand wrapped over her mouth in time to greatly quiet the screech of terror, the other wrapped over her arms, keeping her from fighting Aya off as she pulled the girl back around the corner.
Aya noted the stink that stimulated her in some deep way again. If Janet had used it as perfume, this girl had bathed in it. Her skin was cold and clammy and she thrashed and kicked as Aya pulled her along and around a few random turns. Her load straining her voice to scream all the way.
‘Will you knock it off!’ Aya hissed in her ear.
The girl stilled at the sound of her voice.
‘I’ll let go if you stay quiet, understand?’
‘Mm-hmm.’ The girl nodded.
Aya slowly relaxed her grip and then carefully observed the girl before her. In the shadow of the bookshelves, it was just too dark to see who it was.
Aya noticed she could still smell the reek the girl had rolling off of her, as well as some, unknown scent. It was tangy and yet, somehow flat. And it smelled like it might have been warm… Some tiny bell rang in the back of her mind, but she had more important things to nail down.
‘Who is chasing you?’ She whispered. The footfalls had rampaged past the turn and slowed as the hunter listened for its prey. Then they fell into silence as the owner of the feet began to stalk.
The girl was crying, Aya thought she was, and she wiped a tear from her face. The girl shook her head and shrugged.
‘Are you hurt?’
Once more, the girl shook her head. But Aya thought differently. Something told her so. Acting on the intuition, she flicked on the flashlight.
Landria stood before her, trembling from head to toe. Her hair had a dull look to it and her silk blouse was ruined, a series of rips ran along the left sleeve and blood dripped from the cuff.
Aya grabbed her in a gentle grip and made her turn, examining the wounds. The edges not obscured in blood were smooth, as were the edges of the cuts in the silk. The cuts weren’t deep, or dangerous, but they would need attention.
‘You might need stitches…’ Aya looked around. Anything for a bandage.
‘Take off your socks.’ Landria just stared at her, confused. ‘So I can wrap your arm, stop the bleeding.’
Confusion was replaced with disgust. ‘I am not wrapping my sock around my arm.’
‘Bleed then.’ Aya turned around and started away, ‘But follow me and let’s ditch this place before they find us.’
Landria’s mismatched footfalls echoed loudly as her hard soled shoe clacked loudly. Aya quickly turned on her, pointed at the shoe and then tossed her thumb over her shoulder. Landria knelt to untie it and Aya saw what she had not heard.
A wide shouldered figure rushed up the isle from around a corner, something in his fist.
Aya flicked the flashlight on as she brought it up, the beam shining into the face of their attacker.
James recoiled and stumbled, his hands coming up to protect his eyes, the switchblade glinting in the brief light. Aya leapfrogged over Landria’s back, the heavy flashlight cocked back. She stepped down and leaned into the blow, taking full advantage of the stunned James.
He flinched back as he looked up, taking the hit hard to the cheek and dropping. He lay on the floor and didn’t stir. The echo of a loud crack, not the usual sound of flesh when struck, ran around her ears.
Landria turned and looked at the dark form.
Aya flicked the switch on and off, but the flashlight refused to glow.
‘You killed him…’ Landria took a step back, her shoe on the floor and forgotten.
Aya focused on him. She could hear him breathing, could almost make out a heartbeat she fancied.
‘No, he’s breathing. Just out cold.’
‘Did you see who it was?’
Aya hesitated. Then didn’t answer. ‘Lets get out of here, before he wakes up.’

Aya and Landria made it back to the dormitory in record time. Lanning was still waiting, Janet had gone.
‘She returns with…’ then the headmistress looked up, ‘Dear Lord! What has happened?’
Landria spoke for herself before Aya could answer; ‘I was studying in the library when the power went out. I don’t know who else would have been in there at this time of night, but someone else, a boy, came in just before the lights went out. He came up to me and before I could say anything he shouted and tried to stab me.’ She looked at her arm. It had stopped bleeding, but looked hideous. A few deep stabs were mixed in with the slashes, and in better light, a few good strikes were on her legs and one long swipe ran down her back. ‘I ran into the shelves because I knew I couldn’t outrun him, and I got lost. Then Aya grabbed me and got me away from him.’
‘Did you ever see who it was, child?’ There was a grandmotherly tone in Lanning’s voice.
Landria hung her head, ‘No, Ma’am. It was very dark.’
‘That’s alright dear. That’s alright.’ Lanning picked up her radio and turned it on. ‘This is Jean. I need a nurse to come to the girls’ common at once.’ The radio buzzed static for a second and then cut off. Ready to speak.
‘Take her into the washroom and help her get cleaned up a bit, Miss Morgan.’
Aya just nodded, setting her flashlight down and picking up two more. It rolled about half a turn before thunking to a hard stop, though it wasn’t touching anything.
Lanning watched the girls leave, hoping whoever they had run from in the library was discouraged from further chase.
She replied automatically when the doctor came back. He was sending a nurse.
Headmistress Jean Lanning was far more observant of something else. The flashlight the Morgan girl had deposited was deformed. The bulb housing was flat on one side, the plastic lens gone and the bulb broken, was well as the reflector. She picked up the flashlight. It was just painted aluminum, this one was a semi-metallic blue. But she had never seen one that was bent.
‘This is Jean again.’ She spoke softly, examining the flashlight, as if it would break under her gaze and tell her the truth like so many students, ‘Have the library searched. Just in case…’