Saint Joseph School

I used to hide in a party crowd
Bottled up inside, feeling so left out
Standing in the corner wearing concrete shoes
With my frozen smile, and my lighted fuse
The damn turkey wasn't worth it.

Billi sat in the corner of a huge kitchen, watching church ladies bustle around. The whole place looked like a beehive, and it smelled amazing. She heard them laughing and yakking with each other, and she picked at her plate and tried not to think about freezing the whole damn room.

The ad had sounded good. She remembered it breaking through the dying notes of "Rock Bottom," by ol' Wynonna. Come to the First Baptist Church for Thanksgiving, it'd said. Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings, for the homeless, the hungry, and the lonely. She wasn't the first two, but she was sure the last sometimes. You couldn't show it, now, but she was sure the last one sometimes. She missed her church at home, that one building (besides the ranch) that she'd been able to go to and not get stared at or kicked or even spit on. Pastor Linmer was a good old guy, and she missed her talks with him. Maybe this place, she thought, would have someone a little like him. She missed talking with God sometimes, too, and had always felt closer to Him in the church. The congregation had helped; they'd been just a little nervous at first, but a whole flock had opened their arms and invited her in and pretty soon the rest had too. Not bad for someone who didn't even know what she was. Maybe she could find that all again here.

Shoulda known better, ice cube, she thought to herself. Damn Yankees anyway.

She'd shown up early, hoping that she could help out in the kitchen in exchange for the meal and the fellowship. The kitchen helped had taken one look at her freaky white eyes and skin and blue markings and had just about fallen out. Some older woman had come to the poor girl's rescue, saying that they had enough help in the kitchen (the hell they did) and everything else was already set up. Would Billi mind just waiting out in the fellowship hall?

Yeah. Yeah she would. But she swallowed her pride and went out there. Sure enough, plates and everything were already set up out there, along with a dessert table that groaned under the weight of the pies. Say what you like about 'em, church ladies usually knew how to cook. Billi found a place in the corner and waited while the clock ticked, reading a paperback she'd pulled from her back pocket.

It wasn't long before someone approached her. She was getting used to the idea that people didn't necessarily come up to stare; sometimes they'd seen her on the news or something, and wanted to see her up close. She put her book down and smiled, but the smile slipped when she looked around the room. People had started coming in, and the place was filling up, but only in the part of the room where she wasn't sitting. Some tables were full already, but there wasn't a soul for twenty feet in any direction from her. The woman who'd come up to her was a grandmotherly type, all smiles and checkered apron and plump cheeks. She said, "Hello, dear, could you come with me for a minute? Be sure and bring your book, okay?"

She turned and bustled away, and Billi marked her place in her book by dogearing the page before slipping it into her back pocket again. She stood slowly and walked after the woman, suddenly aware of the quiet that spread out from her as she did so. People tried not to gawk, but their eyes were firmly on her while they ate. She smiled (never let 'em see you sweat) and followed the grandmother into the kitchen. It smelled amazing in there, and the grandmother led her over to a table in the corner. They'd set up a plate and place setting and a comfy folding chair. The grandmother said, "Here you are, dear. Some of the girls recognized you from the news, and we wanted to set a nice place for you in here. We figured you'd like first crack at the turkey, and this way you won't get mobbed by people wanting autographs." She smiled, her cornflower-blue eyes as guileless as a newborn's.

Billi smiled back, suddenly aware of the silence that had also engulfed the kitchen. She got the plate and helped herself to the food spread out there, heaping on the turkey and the stuffing and the mashed potatoes. She got a smaller bowl just for the yams and marshmallows. Then she went back to her place, eating without looking at anyone. The chatter gradually returned, but no one approached her. She stood and left once, leaving her book on the table so they'd know she was coming back, and on her way out to the bathroom she looked into the fellowship hall. Her old place was gone, engulfed by a mob of people who were eating and talking and laughing.

Billi went into the bathroom and stood with her hands on the sink, staring into the long mirror. You will NOT let these two-faced, backbiting, holier'n thou YANKEES see you cry, Willemina Ivey. You jus' won't. She stayed there for a few minutes until she believed herself, and then went back to her place. She was all smiles, and she even tried talking to a few of the women in the kitchen, but they were AWFUL busy. Anger started to build up higher inside her and pretty soon every piece of turkey was crunching in her mouth, freezing as soon as it passed her lips.Everything tasted like...nothing.

Finally she stood up, her plate half-finished, and took everything to the sink where they were washing. She said, "Hey, I can help with that, I'm not a bad dishwasher."

The girl turned to look at her and turned damn near as pale as Billi herself. The grandmother came over (fastest that Billi'd ever seen anyone bustle) and took the plates out of her hands, saying, "Oh, no, dear, you don't have to, we've got it, it's okay!"

Billi said, "But I'd really like to help, y'all have been SO welcomin' and all. It's like in Proverbs, 19:22, when David said, 'What is desirable in a man is his kindness, And it is better to be a poor man than a liar.' "

The woman stared, open-mouthed, and Billi finally let her have the plate. She shrugged. "Maybe it's more like Isaiah 29:13, I dunno. Guess y'all have a nice Thanksgivin', now. Don' worry about me."

She turned and walked out, her head held high and her blank eyes drawing attention away from the tears that shimmered in the corners of them. She walked through the main room, feeling that silence spread again. A few people muttered something about a freak, but she didn't dwell. She went and cut herself a piece of the pumpkin pie and walked out nibbling on it. It tasted too strong, like there were too many spices, but DAMNED if she was going to flinch now. Not in front of these people.

Billi kept the facade up until she got to her room, and then when she saw that none of her quadmates were around, she let herself break down. She hadn't had a good cry for a long time, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. She let herself go for a while, wishing she was back home where at least a FEW people knew her, loved her.

When she got herself together enough to find the phone, she pulled her calling card out and started dialing. The phone on the other end picked up after three rings, and when the other person said hello, Billi barely whispered, "Mama? I miss y'all so much," before breaking down again.

It's the bulls and blood
It's the dust and mud
It's the roar of the Sunday crowd.
It's the white in the knuckle
The gold in the buckle
He'll win the next go-round
It's boots and shafts
It's cowboys hats
It's spurs and "A-let it go!"
It's the ropes and the reins and the joy and the pain,
And they call the thing rodeo.
Billi threw herself onto the ground and leaned against the gnarled bark of an ancient olive tree, grinning up into the clear sky. She was tired and she ached, and she probably smelled like a horse, but she felt fantastic. She figured that the air in Cimerora agreed with her.

She still remembered her first day here. She'd stepped through a crystal and had ended up in a cave. Some ol' boy from the Midnight Club had thrown some magic at her so the locals wouldn't freak, and she'd wandered out into the sunlight. It'd been the clearest air she'd ever breathed, and still was. She'd found her way into town and had spent some time gawking at the boys in their damn-near-nothings, but she'd been sidetracked by one of her favorite sounds in the world: a horse, whinnying. She'd spent a few hours watching the horse trainer and his boys gentling horses in preparation for training, and finally she'd gone up to the boss man and had introduced herself. He had been short with her, and she'd gone and sat under a tree to watch some more, her hands aching to hold a brush or some reins. At the end of the day she'd gone back to her time and place and had started reading.

It turned out that some of the gentling techniques that she was used to had been invented back in 350 BC or so, by some old boy named Xenophon. It even FURTHER turned out, when she watched the boss man and his best cowboys, that they used the same techniques (mostly). She kept reading about it, and even wrote a paper about it in History class that got an A. No reason to waste research, she figured.

When she came back to Cimerora, she'd been ready. The spell had trouble with her accent sometimes, but she figured it was close enough. They didn't stare at her skin or blank eyes, so it was a good trade-off for a little misunderstanding from time to time. She'd finally convinced the boss man to let her have a shot. He'd agreed mostly because the boys were behind him, snickering at the idea of a girl working with horses. They'd put her on a half-broken nag first, and she'd quickly earned the old girl's trust. Then, intrigued, they gave her a green colt and watched while she worked with him. She'd had him gentled in minutes, and soon he was learning how to wear a saddle without trying to eat it or buck it off.

She and the boss man had worked it out. It wasn't a difficult deal: she showed up sometimes and helped out, and he let her. She just missed horses, that was all. At the end of a long day, or maybe when she'd gotten tired of watching everyone else hooking up AGAIN, the horses were there. She could stare into their eyes and let her worries just drown in that deep brown. Sometimes the boss man even let her take them for a ride into the hills. It was almost like having Boomer, her old horse, back.

The boys on the ranch were just like the ones back home, too. Oh, they didn't wear as much, and they swore in Latin and Greek, but they were just the same otherwise. They'd learned to accept Billi after a week, and she'd looked on it as just another kind of gentling. Now they played tricks on her and sat with her during the noon meal to cut up just like she was one of them. They didn't stare at her (well, her legs sometimes, but she stared at their muscles, so she figured that was fair), and she enjoyed just being a part of the group.

It wasn't all happy songs, though. Some idiot they hired on tried to break the colts the hard way. After some green colt threw him hard, the boss man fired his sorry butt. He got up in the boss's face about it, and the cowboys had taken the idiot 'round back and had explained why you don't do that. She figured he'd be eating solid food in a month or so. It all felt familiar.

Sometimes she asked the other students along, but so far none of them had taken her up on it. She was almost glad about that. Her time on the horses was her time. She didn't have to worry about what the horse thought of her, and she didn't have to worry about getting thrown and looking like an idiot in front of anyone she knew; all the cowboys here knew it was just part of the job. The currying and gentling and feeding and shoveling and everything else that went with the animals: that was how she meditated and relaxed. Seemed like she was working with the horses more and more often, but something like the World's Crappiest Thanksgiving took a while to work out.

Her favorite part was now, at the end of the work day, when she was tired and sweaty. The boss man let her take one of the horses and ride out into the hills. It made sense; they were on an island, so it wasn't like she had anywhere to escape to.

She found a wide field and kicked the horse's sides, urging him to greater speeds. She closed her eyes to the feel of the wind slipping over her face like the finest silk, smelling of freshness and approaching nightfall. The horse beneath her worked in a steady rhythm, more reliable than the finest machine, and soon it was just the two of them and the sound of his hooves echoing off the cliffs around them. During those times, she felt the most at home. She felt the closest to God.

Soon, far too soon, the horse was tired. He'd done a lot of work that day too, and while he loved to run, he had his limits. That was part of the ritual too, that bond between horse and rider, and Billi didn't resent it. The walk back was a good time for winding down, feeling her heart beat slowly and not thinking about much of anything. Bedding the horse down for the night completed the ritual.

She headed home in the dark, enjoying the warm night and almost dreading the return to her normal world. Each step closer to the crystal that would take her home meant that the walls were going up a little higher, and she hated to let go of the feeling that she got when she was racing.

She stood in front of the crystal for a moment, taking deep breaths and trying to store away as much of the peace as possible. Then there was that moment of uncertainty when she touched it and stepped through, ending up in the rear chamber in the Midnight Club. She took one more deep breath, let it out, and clicked on her comm. The normal chatter flowed, and she cut into it with her half-crowed greeting of "Hey, y'all! What's happening?"

My daddy, he is grounded like the oak tree
My mama, she is steady as the sun
Oh you know I love my folks,
But I keep staring down the road
Just looking for my one chance to run
The flight home was loud and hard on the butt. Thanks to Billi's connections to the Air Force, she was able to get a special pass to hitch a ride on a southbound mail plane. She halfway welcomed it; this way, she didn't have to worry about customs. Since she was the only passenger, she didn't have to worry about people wanting to have her thrown off the plane, which had happened before. The only real drawbacks were the noise and the hard seat; the plane was built to carry mail, not passengers, and the seats were more like metal benches. The cold didn't bother her, of course, but she'd brought a thick jacket for use as a cushion.

The in-flight movie was "Airplane Wall XVII," so she just started reading the book she'd brought with her. Her mind kept drifting away to the kiss that she'd shared with Dar back in Cimerora, out there under the clear sky next to the quiet ocean. "Makin' a mistake, Ivey," she whispered to herself. She was well aware, though, that it was probably a bad idea. "Had 'em before, ice cube," she said back. She then allowed herself to melt a little bit, remembering exactly how it had felt to kiss him, with all his fire and anger burning through the conduit and into her. That distracted her pretty well for a while, but she was finally able to shake it off and focus on the here and now.

Billi's book was about a girl who had taken a weekend trip from Los Angeles to Tiajuana, not knowing that the green card she carried to prove her US citizenship was a fake that her parents had bought from a street vendor a long time ago. Billi pulled her hat down tight, blocking out the world around her while she walked with Sofi through the streets of the little Mexican town in which she'd been forced to stay. She often read books about other places and other cultures, not sure if she'd ever get a chance to visit anywhere else.

The flight ended quickly, at least to her. The pilot hadn't said a single word to her the entire time, but he was a busy man. Billi tipped her hat to him and carried her bags off the plane while others started unloading the mail. She stretched, looking around, and saw her folks standing at a nearby gate. Her mama was waving both arms, and her daddy just stood and smiled. Billi ran across the tarmac and threw herself into their arms, laughing. The flurry of greetings and hugs and kisses passed, and she finally noticed their companion.

Tall and capped with iron-grey hair, Colonel Westlake watched the reunion with a small, regulation smile. He nodded once when her gaze fell on him, and she tipped her hat in return. "Sir. How do?"

"Quite well, Miss Ivey. Glad to see you well."

Her mama put a hand on Billi's shoulder. "The colonel was kind enough to come stand with us while we waited, Billi. Saved us some trouble getting through the guard stations. Thanks again, Colonel."

He inclined his head a precise distance and said, "My pleasure, ma'am. Now, I don't want to get in the way of your reunion. I'll need to speak to Miss Ivey before she goes back to Rhode Island. Perhaps after Christmas?"

Mama smiled and said, "Why, that'd be lovely. We do so look forward to seein' you, Colonel."

Daddy took Billi's larger bag and said, "Colonel," and the little family left Westlake standing there.

Billi chattered on about her time in Saint Joe's, going on and on about Luke and a snowball fight and Beth and racing down the slopes and Diego and fighting a giant octopus and a thousand other things, relaxing into the seat in the back of her parents' Hummer. Mama turned to listen, smiling and asking questions whenever Billi took a breath. Daddy glanced at her in the rearview whenever he could, smiling with his eyes and taking it all in.

The pattern held for the rest of the day, Billi going on about her friends and events at school in between bouncing around the ranch and surrounding area. She got to say hi to everyone and their families and returning with her ever-present smile growing larger between trips. Finally her mama made her sit and eat. Billi cheerfully dug into the steak and eggs, letting the others do the talking for a while. Her mama chattered about the ranch and everything that had been going on in Texas. Billi devoured the news with just as much enthusiasm as the meal, laughing in all the right places and frowning when she heard about people cheating, getting sick, or dying.

They finished the meal, but they kept talking while they cleared the plates. Her daddy mostly listened, just adding a word or two for spice while the stream of the conversation washed over him. He got coffee for himself and his wife, and they sat around the table. Finally the words sputtered out a bit, and once he could get a word in he leaned forearms on the table and said, "Billi...we've gotten a couple of calls from Westlake."

Billi's smile went away, and she slumped back in her chair. Her mom wouldn't let her wear the hat indoors, she couldn't hide under it like she usually would have. "What'd THAT old lump a crud want?"

"Billi!" her mama scolded, trying to hide a smile.

"Well?"

Her daddy allowed himself a small smile and went on. "Now he's a colonel, sweetheart. Be respectful. He told me that you haven't been making bed checks every night."

Mama nodded. "You haven't been sneakin' out now, have you? You haven't been seein' any boys, have you? Dang it, Billi, we TOLD you-"

"No, I ain't been sneakin' out, and there ain't no boys jus' yet. Jus'...sometimes you gotta go out an' see the town, you know? An' my GOD, be in by eleven? Come on."

Daddy frowned a little. Billi shrank back. Mama's anger was like a dust devil: violent, and sometimes it was threatening, but it blew itself out pretty quickly. Daddy's was more like an avalanche: slow to start, but comprehensive and dangerous once it got going. "Now you need to follow them rules, baby," he said. "You know what Westlake's like."

"Yeah. I know. Sorry, sir."

He put his hand out and covered hers, the rough skin and thick calluses doing nothing to blunt the care in the gesture. She gripped him back and said, "I'll try to be more careful. You think there's any way we might get that curfew set back a ways? Maybe on the weekends?"

He nodded. "Might could. We'll ask him when he comes for his visit."

Billi made a face. She knew what the visit would mean. "Couldncha jus' shoot me instead?"

He smiled again, and mama giggled. "I know they ain't much fun, but you have to have those meetings. We don't want him takin' you away from us."

She shivered, and almost missed mama's question. "No boys just yet? What're they, blind up there?"

"Well, now, I mean, I been out on a coupla dates..."

"Oh God! In the city? You were careful, weren't you?"

Billi hid a grin when she saw daddy roll his eyes a little. "It's okay, mama. Ain't none a them boys any kinda match for me. I dated a couple of 'em, but nothin's worked out. Might could be one now, but it's a little early to tell."

Mama giggled again and said, "Oh! Tell me all about him!"

Billi's face froze and she thought hard. How the hell to describe Dar without getting grounded."Well, he's tall. And he's from the city, but he ain't s'bad. He's pretty tough, but he's got a soft side. An' he ain't a bad cook." She grinned.

Mama smiled back, but the worry never really left. "Be careful, baby. I get worried enough with you goin' out there and fightin' the bad 'uns."

Billi laughed. "Shoot. Mostly I jus' make sure my buddies don' get beat up. Shields an' stuff. It's a kick."

Her mama rolled her eyes, but she let the subject drop. She said, "Brother Simons asked if you'd be by in time for the candlelight service on Christmas eve. He wanted to know if you could make some snow for the youth group."

Billi snorted. "Nice ta know I been missed for my unique charms."

Mama put her hands on her hips. "Now don' you go gettin' like that. You know we all serve in our own ways, and besides, I bet they'd be happy to see you even if you couldn't make it snow a flake. Now do y'all want pie or not?"

Billi had two pieces.

Won't you give me three steps
Give me three steps mister
Give me three steps toward the door?
Gimme three steps
Gimme three steps mister
And you'll never see me no more

Billi spent the day after Christmas waiting for Westlake to show. She sat and stared out the picture window, watching the road from the living room, her mind drifting.

Westlake had been Billi's handler, the man who'd been in charge of her case from the time of her "birth." It made sense; they didn't know what the hell she was, after all. He'd never been very closer to her, but every time she had looked around, he'd been there, his hair slowly going grey while he watched her with his gunmetal eyes. She'd known, even when she was very little, that this man was dangerous somehow. It was a long time before she understood exactly how.

The fact was, Billi had been a unique case. Not only did she not have a genome that matched anything else on earth, there was some question as to her citizenship. A dozen countries had claims on Antartica, from Australia to Nazi Germany, and at least eight of those were legit. Effectively, she wasn't a citizen anywhere. Eventually, the Air Force had quietly claimed her as a dependent and had then gone shopping for a family to raise her.

The candidates were finally chosen, a husband and wife with deep ties to the Air Force (he was a retired pilot, she had relatives in the service), and Billi was passed on to them at the age of five. She still went to the base for schooling and regular testing, but other than that she was raised by the couple she came to call mama and daddy. The day she'd turned thirteen and they'd legally adopted her had been one of the best of her life. They'd done everything they could to make life normal for her, and she did all she could to be a good daughter. They'd had the habit of taking in foster children before her, but that was a security risk once she'd become part of their lives. They'd given it up, and she knew how much it cost them. She was just glad they were willing to keep her around. The Air Force's status had come too close to being ownership for her liking.

Westlake was very clear on her current status. He'd been against the move to Saint Joseph School, but the fact that the nuns were willing to keep him updated on Billi's status finally swayed him. Billi remembered that night before she'd left, the fear and the excitement. She had wanted to be something other than a freak, and she had, mostly. Not to the First Baptist Church up there, but there wasn't any helping some people. She'd toned back on the flirting a little, and it was fine, mostly. The thing with Luke had crashed and burned, mostly because of her, and then the thing with Muncie had just...stopped somewhere. She tried not to think that she wasn't interesting enough to hold his interest, but on the bad days she was certain of it. The whole time she'd been going through all that...she'd felt Westlake's eyes on her. They were a step removed, filtered through emails and nuns, but they were there. Her eleven PM curfew and required reports proved it.

She was snapped out of it by the approach of a Humvee. The vehicle stopped at the door and the driver stepped out. He opened the door for Westlake, and the Colonel stepped into the biting cold without seeming to feel it. Billi sat back on the loveseat, trying to prepare herself by remembering the last right through Cimerora. The wind in her face, the horse underneath her...the warm day...Dar's lips...no! Okay, back to reality, Billi girl. She sat up straight and smiled when he entered the room. As usual, it was just him and his driver, her parents having been asked to wait until the interview was over before joining them.

"Miss Ivey, so good to see you. I hope you had a good Christmas," he said. He sat down across from her, putting his slim briefcase on the coffee table between them. He undid the snaps and took out a folder and a tape recorder.

"Sure did, thanks, and you?" Prolly got a new stick shoved up yer butt, she thought. He clicked the recorder on and gave the date and time before answering.

"It was fine, thanks for asking. Now this is just a routine interview, you've had them before. Tell me a little bit about how things are going at school."

She gave him the quick, uninspired rundown. Classes fine, roomies fine, boys fine, even extra-curriculars were fine. He smiled a tight smile and said, "Yes, we've gotten reports of you and your fellow students and the fine job you've been doing in fighting the criminal element. Not putting yourself in too much danger, are you?"

"Oh, nosir. Mos'ly I jus' make it easier for th'others to fight, you know? An' it works real well, too, I got this thing where I can-"

"Miss Ivey, I want to talk about your disregard for some of the rules at Saint Joseph School."

She wilted a bit. "Oh. You mean the detentions?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Well, now, see, that was mos'ly for cussin', I got a mouth on me, an'-"

"Miss Ivey, it doesn't matter what the detentions are for. The fact of the matter is, you've broken the rules of the school time and again. It makes you look bad, and by extension it makes me, your parents, and the Air Force look bad. I don't want to have to reverse my decision to send you to Saint Joseph, because I think it's been beneficial. But your constant lack of respect for authority makes it difficult for me to consider anything else."

Billi's stomach sank. "Oh, Colonel, I'll do better, I won't stay out s'late or cuss aroun' the nuns anymore, I..." she trailed off, trying to think of something else she could promise.

Westlake smiled exactly the same smile again and then reached out and turned off the tape recorder. "It would be a step backward for you, Miss Ivey. Being removed from Saint Joseph...well, it might give the Department of Homeland Security cause to review your adoption papers. Perhaps even your citizenship status."

Billi was struck speechless, her mouth hanging open.

"I'm sure it won't come to that, though. I trust you to make good decisions, Miss Ivey. Glad to hear that things are going well for you, and try to get those grades up." He put the papers and the tape recorder into his briefcase, stood, and saluted quickly. He and his driver left, and Billi never said a word.

Her mama and daddy found her crying on the loveseat, and they held her long into the evening once they heard the story. Helpless anger warred with fear on their faces, and mama cried a little too. Finally they all ran out of tears, and mama said, "Best thing to do is what he said, shug. Just be on your best behavior, okay?"

Billi nodded and sniffled. "Okay, mama. Will do. He ain't gonna have nothin' ta pin on me."

Her daddy nodded and said, "You're our daughter, no matter what those papers say. Now come on, let's get to bed. This'll all be easier to look at come morning." He rounded up his girls and herded them down the hall to their respective rooms, his hands gentle under the thick calluses.

Half of my blood is Cain's blood
Half of my blood is Abel's
One eye looks to Heaven
One eye looks for trouble
Billi slapped the side of the computer monitor and threw herself back into her chair, arms crossed as she glared at the screen. "Dammit!" she hissed at Google. "I KNOW this already! Gimme somethin' new, ya bucket a crap."

On the screen Google's search results took the abuse in stride. Billi had been searching through her entire morning session, trying variations of the term "Bwana." She'd paired it with Cold, Ice, Blue hair, no eyes, freak, and 9q4u-9qu4t!!!! so far, among others, but nothing useful had come up. Google was her last hope, after having scanned through all the online historical databases she could find. She rubbed her eyes.

She and Dar had gone out for cheesesteaks one night before Christmas. They hadn't been together then, had barely done more than danced once or twice; but, my GOD, the boy could grill and she was hungry, so she dragged him out to Shenanigans after it was closed (and after getting permission from Jules and Vis) and they had made dinner together. It was fun with him showing her how it was done and her introducing him to REAL iced tea.

They'd talked about a lot of stuff, including their various scars from guns and why she wouldn't drink anything stronger than her rocket fuel tea. They'd finally worked their way around to her mentioning that she didn't know what she was. She didn't call herself a freak anymore, but she knew that she was a little strange, even for Paragon. He'd offered to ask the spirits he carried around in his head to see if they knew anything about her, and she had found herself confronted by a pair of golden eyes and an interested expression.

Dar had opened his mouth, and his voice had sounded like rocks clashing. "I am Hodari the Brave. What is your question child?"

Billi had been kinda nervous, she'd admit it. Dar had said something about the spirits being very old, so she took off her hat in a gesture of respect and had tried to form words.

"Um, hi, Mister Brave...I'm Billi Ivey. I guess, I was wonderin'...you ever seen anything like me before?" She'd held up her hand so that he could see the deep blue marks etched into her white skin.

Dar had leaned forward, moving differently. He'd always been fierce, but now he had a coiled grace that looked strange on his heavy frame. And was he taller? It was hard to tell, since his gaze pinned her and he never blinked. Billi started to feel sorry for mice. She twitched a little when he spoke.

"You are a creature of which I have no recollection. Perhaps another knows. I am sorry, Billi of the Ivey tribe."

"Oh, it's okay. Thanks fer your help, anyway."

He didn't know. Big damn shock, no one else knew, why should he?

Dar's eyes had finally closed, and when he opened them again they were white. Not like hers, with no irises at all, but then his irises had been colorless. They'd looked like little targets, and the effect was odd. That time his voice had been a waterfall, cool and clear on his lips. "I am Janja the Cunning. You are Billi of the Ivey tribe yes? You seek to know your history?"

She had nodded eagerly, leaning forward on her forearms amid the remains of their meal. "Yeah, if you know anything. About it--about me, I mean."

Then the moment had come. The one she'd been waiting for all her life. He'd said, "Ahhh... I have seen one of you before..."

For a moment she hadn't realized what he'd said. The shock of it had washed over her and left her empty, unable to react or speak for long seconds. Her silence had allowed him to expound on the information in his strange, rhythmic voice.

"A long time ago. I saw one of your kind in passing. At the furthest south in the Old Land. Tall, regal. Powerful. We did not speak. He was unaware of my presence."

"How...how long ago was that?" she'd whispered.

"Over four millenia, at the very least. I know nothing else past then."

He hadn't known anything else, and she'd thanked him expansively. She wasn't alone. She wasn't alone! It wasn't just her here on this old rock not knowing what the hell she was! Janja had warned her against the next spirit, but it had barely sunk in on her before Dar's eyes had burst into inner fire. That fire was reflected in his voice, and Billi had known right away that Ghadhabu was a totally different prospect from the others.

Dar had spoken, and for the first time Billi had known what it was like to meet something that burned with cold contempt. "So, this is the puny child who seeks our help."

She'd squared her shoulders and kept her eyes on his. "That's me."

Dar's face had sneered. "Tell me pup, why do you want to know about your past so badly? What makes you worthy?"

She'd said, "I don't wanna be the only one." She hadn't liked the vulnerability in the answer, but it was the first one that had come to mind.

The fire had then lost its coldness and had turned up the heat. "Fah! It does not matter if you are the only one of your kind or not! Do you fear like a frightened child should you be alone? If you do, you are already dead. And I will not bother with the dead."

"I jus' want to know."

"Knowledge for the sake of knowledge? You are a fool."

Billi had felt herself start to blush a little. Dar wasn't the only one with a temper, and this old spook had been getting under her skin since he'd shown up.

"There is nothing to knowledge other than using it for power," said Ghadhabu. "Go ahead child, find your knowledge. I shall laugh as I see your corpse on the ground."

"Ain't you a peach."

A terrible grin had twisted Dar's face at her words. "For insolence from a woman in the old days...that would have cost you your lower jaw. Count your luck, pup, that I am being restrained."

Billi had just stared, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing the sudden fear that had streaked through her belly.

He had continued, boasting. "I Ghadhabu the Wrathful know of your kind. Your kind were people I could respect. Efficient. Powerful. Controlling."

"Controllin'? Like how?"

That grin had come back, and he'd said, "Do you wish to know child?"

She'd narrowed her eyes and nodded.

"Feh!" he'd spat. "Your people...were ruthless. Warriors and slavers." He'd stopped and smiled, delighted at the obvious dismay growing in her face. "You still wish to know more? Or do you now fear your heritage?"

Billi'd swallowed and said, "Yes."

"Heh! I am interested in you, pup. I shall be watching your ascension to your destiny."

"Uh, thanks."

Even while the words were leaving her lips, Dar's eyes had been closing. His body had shifted again, every muscle taking on a new tension and moving him to a different, more relaxed posture. He'd opened his eyes and they were gone, replaced by swirls of gray mist. He'd smiled, one of the most pleasant expressions Billi had ever seen on the boy.

"Wilt thou accept my apologies, young miss?" His voice had been cracked and ancient, but still strong.

Billi'd smiled. He had the tone of a favorite grandfather.

"Uh, sure? Wasn't you anyway, was it?"

"Thou hast an understanding of the Angavu, dost thou not?"

"Less'n I thought I did."

He nodded approvingly. "What dost thou know of your people, young miss?"

"Um. The last one said we was slavers an' warriors. Is that true?"

"What dost thou believe, young miss?"

She had believed that she wanted a straight answer or two, but he was a nice old guy and hadn't threatened to tear her jaw off, so she'd played along. "I dunno what to believe. I know I'm stubborn, an' weird-lookin', but that don't sound like no slavers. I ain't never had any kinda urge ta take over the world or nothin'. I met some people like that, though."

He'd nodded again. "What dost thou know of the word 'Bwana'?"

"Uh, it's from old movies, right? Sorta like boss or head wrangler or somethin'?"

"Art thou sure?"

"Do I sound sure? Don' tear my jaw off, now."

The old spirit had laughed. "Perhaps thou shalt inquire to the Bwana?"

She'd nodded. "It's good to know, you know? That I ain't the only one."

Dar had smiled and closed his eyes, and when he'd opened them, he was himself again. He'd had a headache, and Billi had wrapped some ice in a towel for him. They'd talked about what she'd learned, and for once she had been able to explain herself to someone who really understood what it meant to be an outsider, to have different skin and hair and wonder what everyone's glances meant. Billi had kissed him on the cheek at the end of the night, after the cleanup and just before heading to bed. That night had been the start of them, she knew, and she was glad.

Mostly. Not on nights like tonight, when she was staring at the only piece of real information that she'd been able to find about the word "Bwana." It came from the Merriam-Webster online dictionary. The entry burned into her eyes. It was short, and she felt a thrill of anxiety in her belly when she read the stark white letters.

"Swahili, from the Arabic 'abuna,' our father. Master. Boss."

Since the day I left Milwaukee,
Lynchburg, and Bordeaux, France
I've been making a fool out of folks just like you
And helping white people dance
I am medicine and I am poison!
I can help you up or make you fall
Had some of the best times you'll never remember with me, Alcohol!
"Aw come on, Billi, don't you want SOMETHING stronger than that tea?" said someone in the faceless crowd.

She knew her rep: party girl with Sunday-morning Saturday-night syndrome. But the fact of the matter was, she'd never touched a drop of ANYTHING stronger than her tea, her whole life, and it was going to stay that way. She grinned and said, "Now you REALLY don' wanna see me on that stuff, boy. I might jus' get too hot to handle." Fortunately, he laughed and turned away before she had to get more insistent (she'd had to freeze one guy's hand and bottle in a clear case of ice). She watched most of them taking sips or gulps, and suddenly the room was just too damn hot to stick around. She got up and made her goodbyes, told 'em she'd be right there on the dance floor again in a couple nights. Some of the boys looked disappointed; sure, she was Dar's girl, but she had a rep. Who knew what might happen if she got really wound up? Billi laughed and sauntered out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, there wasn't much left of the cowgirl. She sat on her bed in boxers and a t-shirt, her usual sleeping attire, and tried to read the latest Crutcher novel again. Her mind kept drifting, and her right hand rubbed her inner thigh, where a long, flat scar sat.

"Freak!" It was a word the seven-year-old had lived with her whole life. Her mama and daddy loved her and tried to make her feel normal. Same with the cowboys and most of the folks at church. She'd asked her mama one time why other people were so hateful, and she'd said, "Billi, some folks jus' have to feel bigger than ever'one else. And they're so small themselves, they have to tear other folks down." Billi clung to that and tried to feel sorry for those people, rather than angry.

That lesson was gone now. The three men who'd caught her coming out of the local convenience store had made sure of that. They were dragging her out to a field about a block awaay, laughing harshly and calling her the F-word over and over. She'd just wanted some Pop-Rocks, dammit. Now they were gone too, torn from her hand and stomped into a mud puddle. She'd seen the three men around town before, but terror had driven their names right out of her head. She fought, unable to scream thanks to a hard, dirty hand that was clapped over her mouth. You heard stories about girls in situations like this, and even though she didn't understand most of the words in those stories, she knew that bad things happened. Sure they did. Everywhere, all around her, there was a heady stink she didn't know. It flooded through her sinuses, making her eyes water, every time one of them would laugh in her face.

She couldn't even focus well enough to make her ice, that was how scared she was. It was like the world had gone hot, all of a sudden, and wouldn't let the ice form anywhere. Her friend had deserted her, the thing that made her special and not what the others called her. What they were calling her.

They crossed the field, and she was thrown into the back of a pickup truck. Two of them climbed into the bed of the truck with her, and the last one sat in the driver's seat, starting the truck up. They passed around a bottle and then each opened up a can of beer, and she suddenly knew what the smell was. Her mama and daddy were teetotalers, good Southern Baptists, but sometimes the cowboys would crack open a beer if the night was fine. Daddy would look the other way if they were good workers, and most of them didn't push him on it. Billi couched in the back of the truck, right next to the cab, shivering.

The men got louder, meaner. They mixed the F-word with other words, words that she only half understood but that she knew were some of the Bad Swears. They started poking her with a stick that was in the bed of the truck, calling her a blue monkey and worse. Then the man in the front seat got back out, carrying a shotgun, and the sight of it made her pee. Her shorts turned darker, which was the funniest thing that they'd ever seen. Their coarse laughter washed over her, and the man with the gun swayed and almost fell, he was laughing so hard.

"The hell'sh wrong, freak?" he slurred at her. "You think we're gonna waste a slug on you? Shit. You ain't worth the cost!"

Just as she was starting to relax a little, he aimed the gun at her. The muzzle was tiny, but it filled her entire, terror-stricken world, and she sat frozen. He jerked the muzzle around and fired the gun off right next to her, missing her but shocking her ears into insensibility. Her left ear had been deaf for almost two weeks after that. She saw his mouth move as he ordered his friends to hold her down. They spread-eagled her on the bed of the truck, and she was so shocked by all of it that she didn't even fight.

Then he laid the hot muzzle of that shotgun across her inner thigh, and she started to pray. She prayed to God to let her die before the pain got worse, before they did anything more to her. Her prayer was in the form of a shriek, high and pure and so loud that she could almost hear it through the cotton in her ears. She could smell her own flesh cooking, and her last thought was that it smelled like good old fried chicken.

She sat rubbing her scar, staring into space. Her daddy had been out looking for her with some of the cowboys, yes he had. He'd saved her, and the cowboys had stayed behind when daddy had taken her to the emergency room at the base. No one had ever seen those three men again in THIS town, though their truck had sat there for a week before the county towed it. Billi's leg was scarred for life, worse than a normal human's would have been. She'd always been sensitive to the heat.

Two weeks later, Rio, the head cowpoke, had taken her out to one of the barns and had shown her how to make a fist, how to punch, where to kick and bite. The lessons went on for a few weeks. A regular bear in a fight, was Rio, and he'd scaled it down for a seven-year-old who already knew too much about the world. Her mama had come by a couple of times to see how things were going, exchanging nods with the cowboy who knew what to do in a fight better than she did.

Billi had never forgotten their faces, or the smell of the beer and whiskey on their breath. Whenever she got too close to a bottle of the hard stuff, she tensed up and went quiet. Post-traumatic stress, one doc had called it, and she supposed it was. Fortunately, in her household, she'd never really run into it very often. Saint Joe's was a different place, but it was all right. She was a different cowgirl now. She knew what to do, just in case.

Well live in the country, live in the town
Come out tonight gonna burn them all down
Don't let the bastards get yourself down
We're gonna have a good time
She loved to dance. Line dance, square dance, Billi-dance, whatever. There was something in the stomping and twists that made her laugh, and she could go all night if the mood struck her. Sometimes she'd dance and stomp until she just collapsed, laughing weakly and sweating up a storm. Mama had always told her that ladies "glow," they don't sweat, but Billi had never been much of a lady.

But there was nothing, nothing like singing. Even the hardest, most exhausting was a pale shadow of how the songs whispered to her deepest self. She sang a lot to herself, and sometimes over the comm when she forgot it was on, but it wasn't something she'd shared with very many people, not really. Dar knew, and Matt, and a few others, but she hadn't really sung much since church in Dallas. Songs of praise and joy and questioning had tumbled from her lips, filling the tiny church with the joyful noise that David had written about all those centuries ago.

Other songs had filled her mind and voice as well, songs from the radio and the Internet, gleaned from relentless searches for the sounds that moved her. Sometimes she was unable to restrain them, and they burst out full and strong, carrying her along with them.

She'd hoped to connect in church again, but so far it had been a fruitless hope. The choir was nice, but songs in Latin were just noise to her. Even when they were translated, they didn't speak to the wonder and fear and pain that writhed in her heart when she prayed. She sang while she walked to class, and she sang to the horses, but she missed the connection with other people.

That desolation had driven her to look through Paragon City, trying to find a place where she could express herself the way she needed to. So many people just turned away when they met her near-blank eyes and strangely decorated skin, but she couldn't let that stop her anymore.

She found the poster by accident, seeing it taped to a light pole in King's Row while she was tracking down a rumor about a Skull rave that was a possible source of heroin in the area. "All Country!" said the poster, in two-inch letters. She'd stopped and read about the karaoke nights held at the local club, and her jaw had firmed up. She'd torn the paper from the pole and had gone off to kick the snot out of some drug dealers (a different kind of stomping that brought a different kind of satisfaction).

And now here she was, at the Bent Buckle, the under-21 stamp garish and green against the blue markings on her hand. She knew people were staring, and she didn't let herself care. She was Billi By God Ivey, and she had some pipes to share, boys.

She stood in front of the mic, gripping it with one hand and turning her hat so that it hid her face in the glare of the spotlights on the ceiling. It ain't a competition, she kept telling herself. You're just here to- and then the music started. She'd chosen a softball the first time, "Redneck Woman" by Gretchen Wilson. The beat throbbed in her bones, and her thoughts fled from the power of her voice. She cut through the smoky haze, silencing the crowd with passion and pain, and then they started to clap and holler.

She closed her eyes, holding the mic as if it was the only thing keeping her on her feet, and she poured herself into it, laughing and wailing at the same time and not caring about who was watching anymore. The song ended fast, and her second one started up a few seconds later. "Holy Water," by Big & Rich. She loved the slower tempo just as much as Gretchen's quicker beat, and her voice whispered huskily along with the background melody.

"Take me away, and take me farther!
Surround me now! And hold! Hold! Hold me!
Like holy water..."

She cracked bright eyes open toward the end of the song, and she saw someone sitting in the back of the room, grinning his heart-stopping grin at her. Dar twitched his head up like he did, holding up the soda they'd given him. She didn't stop, didn't miss a beat, but when the song ended she said, "Can y'all stand one more?"

The roar was answer enough. She punched quickly through the selections, finding the one that she'd seen earlier. The spanish guitar started, opening the Brooks and Dunn version of "My Heart is Lost to You." She murmured through the verse, building toward the crescendo of the chorus, tearing into it when the wave finally broke.

Mi corazón perdido en ti!
My heart is lost to you
You have captured my love completely!
My heart is lost to you
Oh my heart is lost to you...

She finished, tasting the words like she was kissing him, and the crowd just about broke all the windows out with their cheering. She tipped her hat and calmly walked offstage, something inside fed and bedding down for the first time in weeks. She came over and sat down next to him, draining the rest of his Coke in one breath and grinning when he protested. She waved for a couple more, and then took his hand and kissed him on the cheek. "When the heck did you get here, Dar?"

"Just walked in. Saw the poster in your room when I came up to see you last time."

She grinned. "I know it ain't your kinda music, hon, but thanks fer comin'."

"Damn, girl. I couldn't miss it. You ain't half bad." He wrapped her tight and kissed her firmly, and she laughed into his lips.

"Bet your ass, boyo. Next time we'll hit one a your clubs, fair nuff?"

Some may take love casually,
But I know what it's worth to me

I would count the steps from here to heaven,
Every heartache I was given,
Tip my hat and walk through fire
To find sure love.
((OOC: This one's kinda long, but you'll see why I didn't want to split it up.))

"The Angavu seems to desire your presence for the next Synchronizing." The face had been Dar's, but the voice and eyes had been distant, watery somehow.

"Damn if I'm gonna back down now, Janja," she'd said, her jaw jutted out to one side.

The land stretched forever around her. People could talk about endless prairie, and about Boundless Africa, but unless you'd seen it, you just didn't know. Her first impulse was to find a horse and ride, just ride until the grass ended somewhere past forever.

Dar and Billi stood beneath a giant tree, one that stretched toward the sun as if yearning toward a distant lover, so high that the tips of the branches were lost in the glare. From where she stood, it seemed that the tree had caught its prey, the sun resting in the arms of its joyous captor.

"Whoa."

"How ya feel babe?" His voice was uncommonly gentle.

"Ghadhabu's been tough ta keep a hold of. Dunno why. But it feels harder than normal."

They'd stood, her sipping tea and listening to him. His face was so hard to read sometimes, but right then it had shown confusion and...fear? For one of the few times in her life, she got a chill down her spine.

"I think...I think I might try goin' back in again," he'd said.

She had been distantly aware of her glass shattering when it had hit the floor. "Oh God, Dar. You scared me to death last time, babe, are you sure you gotta?" He nearly hadn't come back to her the last time he'd gone to confront the spirits that were hanging around in his mind.

He'd nodded. "I'm sorry, girl, but I don't think I can keep this up."

He'd allowed some silence to spin between them for a few moment before saying, "Hodari said you might be able to help, though."

"Tell me."

"You go in with me."

She hadn't even blinked. "When do we go?"

She looked around now, drinking it all in. She knew that her body was in Ouroboros, sitting comfortably in the crook of his arm in the eternal late afternoon, but she didn't see any of it. She saw only Africa, and the tree, and Dar. "Wow. This is in you? Damn, it's so...everything's in here. It's beautiful."

"At times." She loved the way his face had relaxed; here, he didn't have to put on the mask. She was just about to say something about it when she realized that they weren't alone.

Hodari was tall, reaching almost eight feet, and skinny. His skin was the color of recording tape. Lion skins, heads still attached and roaring silently off his shoulders, were wrapped around his slender frame. He carried a spear and simple shield in one hand, but his vertically-slitted eyes were what pinned her down. Dar glanced at her, and she offered a grin that was almost up to her regular standards. "Fortune favors th'bold, baby."

Dar nodded and demanded Hodari's help, using ritualistic words that resonated through the landscape. Hodari was the easy one; he was bound to Dar somehow in a way the others weren't. The spirit pledged its support in tones that sounded like they'd been formed from an avalanche and then turned loose. Before leaving, though, he turned back to face Billi herself.

"Bwana. We meet face to face for the first time. You are the first of your kind I have laid my eyes upon. The others here will be adverse to your presence. They were there during the War."

Billi nodded, not sure if she should speak. She figured the War was the one the Angavu had fought against her kind so many centuries ago. Hodari stared into her eyes for a few more seconds before taking his leave. He turned and walked around the tree, vanishing around the side. Billi exhaled softly.

Dar said, "He's the easiest."

She squeezed his hand and smiled. "Still here, boy."

The skies darkened, a cataract of clouds spreading over the blue. Lightning flickered, and thunder harrumphed just before the clouds started pouring all over the two of them. Billi lifted her face and laughed at the warm water trickling over it. The laughter withered in her throat when she saw the next spirit coming toward them. Janja the cunning looked like a piece of slow lightning at first, but soon enough he was close enough for her to see him. Janja floated in the air before them, wreathed in lightning and fog. His three skeletal heads hissed, snakelike and fanged. Billi swallowed, but she stood fast.

Janja had chuckled with Dar's voice, the strange echo of a waterfall under the noise. "Fire within you, yes, characteristic indeed. Little wonder why the Angavu finds himself attracted to an age old enemy. Mind you, should you wish to enter his mind, you will be reliant on him for the majority of your protection."

"I trust him." Simple words, and true, and useful for hiding the enormity of what she'd be risking from herself.

"In his mindscape, your powers will be useless, save any mental strength you have. You will also be able to see our true images. Steel your mind before agreeing to enter. Lesser beings have lost themselves in such an attempt."

She'd grinned. "Did they now."

Janja's voice sounded like a rain-swollen river. "Angavu, and the Bwana. Welcome you to our residence."

Some response seemed called for. "Thank you, Janja. Your welcome is most gracious." She'd been to enough military formal functions to at least pretend to have manners.

The three heads stared at her for a moment, and then the right-most one struck like a snake. Billi hadn't even started to pull back before Dar's arm was between her and the spirit, the snake fangs sunk deep into his thick muscle. "You will NOT hurt her," he snarled in a commanding voice.

The middle head watched while the left head spoke. The damn thing looked amused somehow, but the right-hand one kept its fangs buried in Dar's arm. "She is a Bwana. She defiles this place."

Dar made a noise that was half snarl and half gasp at the pain. "This place is my own. She does not defile it. She graces it. And you will acknowledge that, Janja."

"Curious indeed. Do you protect her because you feel you must? Or is it because she provides you with balance? Could it be that you keep her around simply because it helps you to focus?"

"I protect her because I love her. There is no other reason that is needed. My reasons are beyond you, spirit. I am human. You are not. You do not understand humanity."

The middle head snickered while the left one spoke. "So you say. I am Janja the Cunning. I have been analyzing and playing with human minds since memory began. I know how all minds work, even your philosophies, as wild and varying as they are. You are not unique. I know you and your reasons."

Dar frowned, giving up a step as Janja continued to press his attack. "Is this all of your vaunted humanity, Angavu? Blind courage and a desire to hold onto that which provides most for you? Your favorite tool?"

Dar looked at her then, and she saw doubt and fear in his eyes. A thrill tore through her, seeing how vulnerable he was in front of her. He had brought her here, into this place that no one else had ever seen, because he trusted her as much as she did. He trusted her enough to be scared in front of her. Billi did the only thing she could do. She put her hands on his huge shoulder and gave the support he needed with her touch, her eyes. He drank it in, and his legs stopped trembling. He took a deep breath and responded.

"I am Darweshi Brown. I love this woman for who she is. Not what she does. I love her for her smile, her laugh, her presence. The emotions between us are our own and nothing you can manipulate or twist with half-truths and lies. I know your game Webweaver. You speak like the Morningstar. You will give me your power because I know your truths from your lies. You will give me power because I am the Angavu and I command it from you. I do not fear you. Nor do I conceed to your lies."

Billi stood tall, staring down the spirit that dared to question what they had. Almost inaudible, she whispered, "Get thee behind me..."

Dar put his free hand over the leftmost head and there was a bright flash of light. The head tore from the spirit's neck and fell off his arm, which started leaking blood into the rain that still washed over them all. Janja didn't react, until Dar said, "Your power is mine Janja. I am the Angavu and I am in need of it to protect the lives of those dear to me. Including this woman."

Janja made a sound like a snake that had learned to chuckle, and then it whipped around and slithered into the clouds. Billi reached over and clamped down on Dar's arm, wishing like fire for her ice powers to provide a temporary bandage. Hell, she didn't even know if any of this was actually happening. She finally resorted to tearing a strip off the bottom of her t-shirt and tying it around his forearm. A metaphor to bind a metaphor, she didn't even care anymore.

"Yer doin' good, babe. Easier ways t'get me to strip, though." She offered a grin, but he only sighed and watched his blood soaking into the rapidly drying ground.

The air around them started to darken, except for flashes of a sickly green and red that were coming from the ground underneath their feet. She knew what was coming, and so she stood and tugged on his arm. "Come on, babe. Face 'im on yer feet."

They sat on the warm grass on one of the islands floating in the middle of nothing above Ouroboros's ocean. "If we're in my head...then your ice ain't gonna do anythin'...ya know?"

Billi grinned. "I got the armor a God, then. You ever hear about that?"

He shook his head no, and she said, "Right there in the Book, babe. Helmet, sword of the Spirit, shield of Faith, Breastplate of Righteousness, all of it. I been prayin' ever since I knew what we were gonna do, and even though I ain't been to church in a while, I'm still Baptist."

She tucked her hand underneath his chin and pulled his face up to look into her eyes. "I pray. I believe. That's gotta count for some."

She grinned. "And I'm Billi by-God Ivey. I trust you an' God, an' love you both, an' that's what counts here."

The two of them watched the beast drag himself from the earth, heavy plates clashing and eyes glowing red. It was twice as tall as Billi, and when it roared it shook the ground. The face was alien, but Ghadhabu was obviously male. Billi swallowed, her knees weak but DAMN if she was going to show it. The monster took a step forward and inhaled deeply, stirring the grass around them with the force of the breath. "It is humorous, Angavu," it said, "Humorous to know that of all the Angavu I have been witness to, you are, by far, the weakest of them all."

Billi kept hold of Dar's shoulder while the beast rattled on about other Angavu that had been part of "another tribe" and had died out. "You are weak, Angavu. You are weak because you let your feelings get in the way of your progress. You follow a weak path of protection....of kindness...and of mercy."

The beast reached out with one three-fingered hand and crooked one claw under Billi's chin. Billi's breath hissed at the touch; the monster was hot, burning like lava pumped through its heart instead of blood. It kept speaking to Dar, never looking at her. "The Bwana knew that, Angavu. They used that against the old Angavu. They would prey on their weakness. Target family, friends. Lovers. The Bwana, like your mate, knew how to be merciless. How to be strong."

It suddenly looked at her, its burning eyes searching hers while its hideous face twisted into what probably passed for a smile. "And that is why, you need to survive. I miss those days."

Billi knew this song. The monster had spoken through Dar before. It wanted Billi to live so that she could produce others of her kind, and so on, so that the monster would have something challenging to kill again. She was about to say something that might get her hurt when Ghadhabu turned to Dar again and seized him in one hand. She heard his breath get pushed out of him when the beast squeezed, and she looked around frantically for something she could do. While it roared on about Dar having strength and making others scared, she forced herself to think. Blood started to trickle down the monster's hand, and Dar writhed in its grip.

Billi took off her belt and wrapped it around her fist twice, the bright metal of the buckle glinting at the end of the strap. Then she hooked the fingers of her left hand and went right for the monster's eyes. Ghadhabu saw her coming and lowered his horns, but she just grabbed one of those and used it as a solid foundation for rearing back and popping her belt forward like a whip, right at its eye. She saw the buckle snap against the eye's closed lid, leaving a scratch in the chitin, but she didn't stick around to see what effect she'd had.

She dropped and darted around the monster, using the distraction to go for the tree. There were some low branches growing, and she put her boot against a dead one, straining until it snapped off in her hands. She turned and saw it standing in the same spot, holding Dar up toward her. It squeezed and Dar cried out weakly, the trickle of blood having become a flow.

"Drop him, monster!" she yelled. A stray thought wandered through her mind, wondering what kind of money she could make if she was able to film this scene. She shook it off, recognizing the hysteria, while Ghadhabu replied.

"Monster? Ha. No my sweet. I am the epitome of your kind. I am the spirit that they viewed as an equal. That they respected. I am a creature that got respect and pride because of my rage. Until the Angavu recognizes his own rage, he will never gain my power."

Billi stared into its murderous eyes...and laughed. "You got nothin', boyo. You don't know a thing about rage, 'cause you don't know a thing about love!"

The beast lashed out, grasping her with its other hand, pinning her club to her side and squeezing. "Love is a fallacy!"

"The best rage...the most anger, the hate...gah...is when someone you love...is threatened...ahg!"

The monster roared. "Come now Angavu! make a choice! Give into your rage! Save your love if you can! Show me this "rage of love" that your Bwana wench crows about!"

Billi looked over at Dar and for the first time in her life understood what people meant when they said that their blood ran cold. Dar's face was different, all planes and angles, and he'd gained a couple feet in height. He was bigger overall, and in his eyes she could see just the fainted tinge of a red glow. "I'll kill you Ghadhabu. I'll kill you...and everyone else..." he snarled, slowly forcing the beast's fingers apart. His face changed even more, and Billi saw him becoming a mirror of the monster that held him.

"Dar!" she yelled, "yer better than this thing! Dar! Don't forget who you are! Don't forget me an' your mama an' dad!" She felt Ghadabu's claw start to squeeze the breath out of her again, and she forced herself to use up her remaining air. "The man you are! The man I love!"

A burst of light, the same like that had burned Janja, surrounded Dar. When she could see again, Ghadabu's hand was broken, the claws bent outward and burned. The light coalesced into a bright blade that sheared the monster's hand from its wrist. Roaring in pain, the beast threw Billi away from itself and stumbled. It froze when it realized that Dar held the blade to its neck.

Billi watched Dar finally step back and put his hand down, the light falling away from him. "I'm no executioner. You don't control me. I...we are more powerful than you."

"Mercy. Weakness. These are the words that describe you," Ghadhabu grated.

"Says the mutant rhino with one hand," Billi spat.

Ghadhabu didn't bother to reply. "You will have my power, for now. But know this. I will not stop teaching you. Not now, not ever. You will see it my way." With that, it raised one foot and stomped, splitting the ground open and allowing itself to be pulled into the healing darkness beneath. Billi enjoyed lying on her back for a moment while the darkness cleared, and then she stood up to go help Dar.

He was almost completely limp, slumped on his knees, covered in blood, and his breathing had a labored, rasping quality that scared her. She touched his shoulder and said, "Three down, baby, we got this. You wanna take a break, come back fresh? Can we do that?"

He shook his head weakly. "Tired...just need to bre...breathe, babe..."

She wanted to do something for him, but there was almost nothing she could do. She wiped off some of the blood with the cuff of her shirt, but there wasn't much left of that after making the bandage earlier. She looked up when she realized that the darkness was being banished by a warm, gentle light. Soon the entire area was suffused with that light, giving a tender feeling as if snuggling under a warm blanket.

Wisps of mist formed out of the air, gradually taking the shape of an enormous steer with long thick horns. It walked toward them, unhurried, and Billi stood. Cows, she thought. I done dealt with cows before. She kept one hand on Dar's shoulder and the other pressed into her side while the final spirit approached. She'd always liked Busaru, but in this place she wasn't sure what he would do.

His voice was warm. "Billi, of the Ivey clan, dost thou fear for thy love? Or dost thou fear for thyself?"

She forced her voice to be steady. "I do, Busaru. I fear fer him."

The steer nodded and stepped forward, pushing Dar's head back with its nose so that it could look into his eyes. Billi could feel the power in the being before her. "And thou, Angavu? Who dost thou fear for?"

Dar's voice was even weaker. "...do.n...don'...touch...'er..." He moved, finally, weakly trying to put himself between Billi and Busaru. Billi increased the pressure on his shoulder and whispered soothing words while the steer obligingly took a few steps back.

"Dost thou believe thy wounds exist?" it said.

Billi was surprised. "Me? Yeah," she said.

"Which...which wounds?" said Dar.

"The hurt from Ghadhabu. An' the gun scars. An' the heart in his heart, an' mine. It's all wounds, Busaru."

"Dost thou believe that is all of thy wounds? Wouldst thou be wiser than all to know the answer to that?"

She thought about Thanksgiving, about the pain from the glances and the whispers at the church. She thought about feeling like an outsider even in a crowd of people with powers. She thought about Westlake's paranoid eyes and the ache of missing home, and the fear and pain a little girl had suffered at the hands of three drunken morons with a gun. "Nope. Guess all I can know are the ones I can see. Or feel."

The steer seemed satisfied. "Willst thou care for him?"

"I'll care for him. Any way I can, any way he needs."

Busaru huffed warm air over the pair of them and stepped forward, putting his head under her hand. She scratched him in that spot that cows like, and she swore that he groaned slightly in appreciation. "Willst thou tell him he hast done well this day?" She nodded, and he stepped back, fading into the darkness that was growing around them.

The darkness spread, engulfing them, until she fluttered her eyes and found herself back in Ouroboros with Dar. All their wounds were gone, though she felt really tired. She rolled over onto her back, lying next to him on the warm grass. "So how'd it go? Did...it help?"

His breathing was easy, though he also looked tired. "It did. I almost lost it there, with Janja and Ghadhabu. It was a lot better than last time, though."

"Jesus, really? Damn, boy, no wonder you didn't come back for a few days." She enjoyed the sunlight for a few minutes before tenatively asking, "Hey, you, um, you mean all that, you said in there? 'Bout you an' me?"

"Why would I lie?"

She grinned a little. "Naw, I ain't sayin' that, it's just...a girl likes to hear that kinda thing sometimes, is all."

He rolled over and put one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him in a tight hug. He held it for a few seconds before releasing and saying, "I love you, Billi."

She rubbed his shoulder. "Love you too."

"I'm so tired, baby."

"Geez, me too. Come on, hero. Walk ya home."

The dream that makes a sparrow fly can make an eagle fall
And one that makes a rich man money, it ain't no dream at all
It's a crying shame to wake up just to find it's all been broke in two
Be careful what you're dreaming, 'cause it someday may come true
((Billi needs to feel helpless, and then empowered, and then know that the empowerment came from the Bwana.))

Billi was cold.

She knew the feeling, from when she was very little, before she'd started turning the air around her to ice at a whim. She knew it from the way the ice skittered across her fingers when she formed it, tiny pinpricks like a frozen centipede. But this bone-deep chill, this was something new. It engulfed her world, leaving nothing besides itself and the darkness that surrounded her.

She stood and walked, her feet silent on a carpet of snow, and watched her breath form tiny clouds of steam ahead of her. The steam didn't leave, and despite the temperature it didn't freeze around her. It just hung in the air, gradually surrounding her until she was almost blind. She saw shapes in the mist, people, finally, and she charged toward them. The shapes were on the other side of a sheet of glass, a window, she now saw. She stood outside a house, the snow feathering down her neck, and inside she could see people she knew.

Her parents sat in front of a roaring fire in a cheerful room, talking cheerfully while everyone sipped her mom's famous hard cider. Westlake was there, just across from her daddy, and so were some of the people from her old church. Luke was there, sitting next to Beth and Joao, all animosity forgotten. They were laughing uproariously about something, and Dar joined the laughter when he came in, carrying a tray of snacks.

Billi walked around the corner of the house, but it was still the same wall and window. She kept going, finding only the same thing each time, until she finally gave up and knocked on the glass. No one reacted, even when she hammered and screamed as loudly as she could. The cold was getting sharper, drilling into her with a fierceness that she'd only felt before from fire. Her tears froze on her face while she screamed, and no one so much as glanced her way. She'd never felt so helpless and alone in her life.

Between one scream and the next, she knew that someone was behind her. She snapped around and saw a figure in a deep robe, the material so thick that she couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. The figure held out a hand and she took it, knowing that it meant her no harm. The cold ebbed away at the figure's touch, and her tears dried on her cheeks. Finally the figure lifted its hands and pulled its hood back, revealing a face a lot like her own. She somehow knew that he was safe and on her side, and when she turned to the house behind her she saw everyone inside staring at the two of them. They stood at the glass, staring in surprise, and then the glass cracked. The snow and wind blew in, extinguishing the fire inside and turning the room so dark that she couldn't see anyone anymore. She turned to her rescuer and hugged him tight, the smell of him as tight and sharp in her nose as a forest that slumbered under a coating of new snow.

Billi snapped awake with a gasp, and for a few seconds she didn't know where she was. The room was drifted in snow, her roommates still mercifully asleep under a tiny layer that hadn't melted through their blankets yet. "Aw, crap," she muttered, the dream nearly forgotten. The face lingered in her mind for a few more minutes while she went to get the broom, but soon enough that was gone as well.