Jane had found a lone autumn leaf and was slowly picking it apart, watching the comings and goings along the cobbled path. She spotted Artsblood easily enough from her perch on the porch stairs, the line of her shoulders straightening. 'Not who she was hoping for, but hey, a familiar face nevertheless.

The too-thin woman ghost-flowed to a stop in front of the girl on the steps, so spare that she seemed to sway there, a sapling returning to stasis after storm, her little voice seeming to tear it self out of her throat, soft and pained. ?Seeing you here, I suppose I must assume your darling is elsewhere??

"Yep." Jane stared up at the spider woman, who seemed impossibly tall from this vantage point, and offered nothing further. While thankful for familiar company, the woman's presence still seemed just a little foreboding to her.

Uninvited, Arts folded herself next to Jane on the steps, contemplated the dark in silence for a while before she spoke without turning, casually conversational. ?A pity, because I sense the hint of opportunity and would have presumed upon...family...and mutual interest...to ask her aid.?

Jane spoke just as easily, hands laced between her knees, gaze set on the street and night beyond it. "I could relay a message."

This close, Arts? face seemed all eyes, forehead wide to accommodate them, tapered to the point of chin; insectile and strangely lovely. ?Tell me, miss,? she whispered, ?Do you feel brave tonight? ?
No fog appeared as her chill breath melded with the cool air. ?What a bouquet you could bring home to her if you are courageous enough.?

Jane sat still for a long moment, the weight of the spider woman's question sinking as a stone does in still water--all the way down. Finally, she turned to offer her an even stare. "Brave enough, yes." Her voice wavered when she spoke, but her gaze was sure.

Arts nipped at a fingernail, raised it to the moon to examine it. ?The woman Lassie is moving tonight. I believe she will arrive here, perhaps soon. Could you find pretext to lead her into the alley, where she and I might dance??

"Yes." No questions asked. Jane nodded. "Anything else?" Her focus returned to the street, staring but not seeing. Her mind reeled, plotting. And listen, Jane was not good at the whole 'plotting' thing.

The freakishly thin woman rubbed the nipped nail on her denim shorts, the worn fabric a poor emery board, and whispered, the pained squeal whining behind the fur of her voice. ?When she sees me she will sing. If you cannot stopper your ears completely you will likely lose your will, at least until I silence her. If I can. If I cannot she will be justifiably angry at your betrayal, I think.?


Jane replied, mouth twitching with the hint of a smile. She could hear a flippin' chicken squawking inside the Inn, which gave the evening a delightfully absurd feel. "I'll roll with the punches, Artsblood. I'll do what I can." She shrugged, offering a nervous laugh.


Arts stood, such thin limbs should pop and crackle with their unfolding, but the motion was smooth, liquid. ?Very well, then,? she sighed the words, ?I'll be in the alley, and we shall see what we shall see.?

Jane nodded, rising as well. She turned to climb the stairs, then paused. "Hey, Arts?"

The spidersilk dandelion of the woman?s hair barely shifted as she turned at the question. ?Yes??

"I..." Jane fumbled for something appropriate. "I hope you whoop her ass." Oh, Jane, ever eloquent. And with that, she jogged up the stairs and shouldered inside, heart suddenly racing. What the hell did you just get yourself into, Janey-girl? She frowned, heading towards the bar, brow furrowed in thought.

The brief bloom and death of a smile crossed flesh-poor face as she addressed the closing door. ?If I don't, and you escape, make Magenta go to my Witch, her only safety might be there.?

Inside, Jane scanned the room, looking for an appropriate place to...bait? Was that the word? The bar was too crowded, the hearth was too cozy. A booth! Yes. She headed in that direction, turning a nervous look over her shoulder towards the door.

Outside the dark absorbed Artsblood, a brief strobe of limb, it faded, and was gone.

Jane all but scrambled into a booth, hoping the darkness would lend itself to some sort of mystery. She scooted all the way back on the bench until all one could see was her sneakers hanging over the edge, and waited.

Drawn by bait, or a tracking hound on another trail? Who could tell? But five-feet-nothing in denim and leather, knee socks and big lace up boots, raccoon eyes and gloss black painted mouth; Lassie skipped up the steps and entered the room in a jester's dance, skipping to the drum roll in her mind::

Now or never, Jane. Heart rattling wildly behind the bars of her ribcage, the mousy girl sat up a little, crossing her legs at the ankle and setting one foot to jittering, shoelaces bobbing wildly. She tried for bored, examining her nails with a frown. All the way, she could see that damn crazy girl in her peripheral vision.

Lassie sniffed the air, fox with a nose to the wind, frowned a little, giggled at a private joke, and was next to Jane's booth in a rush, movement without apparent effort, like a startled trout. ?Where's all the weird sisters, babydoll?"
Hiding from you, gorgeous." Jane?s voice was cool, almost a purr. She drew up one knee, tracing circles on the exposed skin beneath the worn-torn denim. "Didn't you get that memo?" Keep it cool, Jane. She tried a smile. It felt almost painful on her face. She hoped she looked better than she felt.

Lassie didn't stand still, constantly shifting weight from one boot to the other, a restless dance. ? Hey,? she said, brightly, almost perky, ?betcha'd be real happy if all this were over and you and blondie could relax, huh??


"Apparently," Jane murmured, sitting up further, pausing, then sinking back. She kept her eyes on the crazy girl?s face, trying to hold her gaze. Be the bait, so to speak. "And sure, I'd love for this to be over. I'm not one for conflict." She eyed her fingernails again. "Of course, how I feel about...blondie today may be different tomorrow, if you catch my drift." She eyed Lassie again, offering a delicious close-lipped smile, a brutal lie on her pale face. "As long as it ends, I'm happy."

The strange little thing considered this, her own eyes brown and deeply lovely behind the toweled-on makeup, tripping over the words like a belated punchline. ?If I could find the old one, it'd be over in a snap.? She actually snapped her fingers at this, which gesture she seemed to find quite hilarious.

"Could you, really?" Jane sat up fully then, sliding out of the booth. "I bet I could help you, you know." She dared to touch her, a gentle press to the crazy girls shoulder. "I mean, they have told me their plans for you."

Even through the clothing, Lassie's flesh seemed to buzz beneath the touch, the shiver of a cold fever, sick and frightening. ?Plans!? She giggled again. ?Oh come on, they know better than that. Only plan the old one should have is how to say goodbye.? She grinned. ?So you could maybe show me where she is??

Jane's hand stayed where it was, willed there by her love for Magenta alone. "Not show you, but I could certainly tell you. It's just that, well," She dared an obvious look around, voice dropping to a whisper. She was hoping to leave the crazy girl caught off guard when they went out to the alley, right? That was the plan, right? She couldn't recall now. Her head swam. "I'd rather not to discuss it in the open. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere in, uhm, private?"

Her hand dropped to Lassie's, tugging. "Come on, out back. It will be safer there." She whispered, offering an encouraging smile as she tugged the crazy girl towards the alley door.

Lassie suffered another brittle collapse of laughter. ?Oh, you've already been infected by them and their silly Masquerade! OK, OK, we'll be all mysterious!? She allowed herself to be lead, choking on the tail of a giggle.

Blood pumping through her veins in a roar, Jane kept her smile confident as she tugged the alley door open and slipped outside, Lassie in tow.


Before the door can swing shut, Artsblood launched herself at the pair, flung like a javelin.

Jane gasped, tumbling back into a neat row of metal trashcans. The sound roared in the alley, rebounding off of the stone. She lay sprawled, wide-eyed, staring dumbly.

The mad girl was, perhaps, not as surprised as her enemies would wish, and entered singing. Incongruous, she warbled the country kitsch classic ?Hard Candy Christmas," but the words were irrelevant, her voice was pure as poured mercury, high and bright and sharp as a knife, the tone stopped the skinny woman in mid attack, dropped her to her knees.

Her mooneyes gone blank as mirrors, her mouth slack, Arts managed to stand, stoop-shouldered, numb looking.

Lassie grinned around the words, raised the song an octave, sweet enough to cleave a soul, triumph in her eyes, warbling the verses like a woven net. She stepped eagerly, trippingly, up to confront her enemy.

Jane screamed then, cupping her hands over her hears, eyes clamping shut. Still screaming, she wavered, her talents showing through. And in a moment she had winked out, as if never there, reappearing at the front of the Inn. She couldn't leave Arts alone....wouldn't dare. Was she far enough away to avoid the woman's death song?

The girl Jane?s sudden disappearance was a puzzle, and perhaps turned Lassie?s attention from her prey for a moment, though it did not interrupt her song.

It wouldn't have mattered, that screech seemed to ring out for blocks--maybe miles. Jane had hid, peering around the corner of the building, and was no match. Her knees trembled, giving way. "Artsblood--RUN!" She screamed, but the sound came out like a whisper.

Jane's distraction was enough, perhaps, to keep Lassie from noticing the twin ruby earrings of blood drops on Arts' delicate lobes, the fruits of eardrums shattered in advance, a clap of hand against each ear enough to render her safe from that song.

Lassie only saw them at the last moment, and confusion, hatred, interrupted her song briefly, left her standing in a gape-mouthed pause*

Jane slumped forward, propped against the exterior wall of the building, and blinked at the respite in the deathsong. It was enough. She could run. She could wink out. But there was Magenta to think of--Magenta, who she loved. A strange revelation to have when one was on the verge of death. Still weak, she pushed herself backwards, staying low, hoping to stay out of sight.

In Lassie?s moment of confusion, a skinny arm struck like a cobra. Knuckles breaking against the smaller woman's teeth as a freakish hand forced itself into her mouth, tore out her tongue with a savage twist and threw it to the dirt of the alley beneath them.

Lassie screamed soundlessly, bubbling blood, but she was old and strong without her voice. She caught Artsblood's skinny arm as it dropped the tongue, twisted and lifted it while bone snapped and sinews crackled and popped, and followed with a head-butt to her taller opponent's chin, lips cut and teeth broken by the battering*

Curled against the wall, knees clutched to her chest, Jane watched in horror, teeth gnashed hard on her lower lip to keep from screaming. She was no match for either of them but wished to God she was. Helpless to stop the crazy woman, Jane could only stare as the horror unfolded.

It was perhaps only the Witch's blood she had fed on that keeps Arts upright, allowed her good hand to sweep a slap across Lassie's face that tore garish stripes in one cheek.

Lassie only giggled anew, tongueless, blood hiccupping, she knew she had won, it seemed, and drove a boot into the tall woman's knee, bending it terribly wrongly.

That sound, that insane, curdling cackle would ice any lover?s heart. Jane shuddered, curling towards the damp ground and paused, noting a long, cracked board. She considered her options. Did staking someone like Lassie in the heart work like in the moves? Panicked, she reached for the board, eyes on the scene at the pit of the alley.

Lassie was predator enough to be aware of her surroundings, but perhaps too confident; she turned raccoon eyes to the crawling girl, warned her back with a bubbling hiss.

Maybe that was enough. It was the only play that Jane had. To be the bait, to distract Lassie enough to let Artsblood overtake her. She grabbed the board then and pushed herself up, knees weak.

One legged, stork girl, Arts grabbed at Lassie's distraction, bent her good knee and lunged, her hand cupped like a garden trowel, and drove it into Lassie's throat, twined her fingers around the spine deep within and, as her leg collapsed beneath her, fell and twisted.

It happened so fast that Lassie didn?t even fall. As her spine snapped beneath her skull, she had a moment to turn from Jane to Artsblood in horrified recognition, and then all of the puppet strings of her little body let go at once.

Hand still in the ruin of her enemy?s throat, Arts twisted again and wrenched until the piece of spine came free, and flung it away, collapsing awkwardly on her bottom next to the corpse that was now truly corpse.

Jane was running towards them now, that board in her hand. It all happened so fast, a blur of hands and flesh and sinew. When she neared the dueling pair, the spear point of the board raised, it was over. All over. She stood where she was, board held above her head, trembling. Jane perhaps thought the ragdoll body of Lassie would rise again. Could that happen? She didn't know. And with Artsblood's final punctuation to the ending of a life that would not be missed, Jane collapsed beside her ally. "Oh God Arts. Oh no, oh no..." If Lassie was a limp ragdoll, Arts was just as broken, if not lifeless.

Her moon eyes on Jane, dappled with pain, Arts purred, almost gentle. ?Do it, stake her, you've earned it, and she can never be too dead for my tastes.?

Lip trembling, Jane nodded, rising, the board in hand. With a cry, she threw her weight into the throw, wood crushing through lifeless flesh and bone.

Artsblood found a smile, a razorslash against her face, paler than pale now with pain and loss of blood. ?I never really believed I would win.? She mused in apparent wonder. ?Twice you turned her eyes. Twice turned out to be what I needed.?

The stake stuck out crudely where Jane left it, forgotten for now. She crouched down again, cradling the spider woman's head gently. "It should have been more. I'm so sorry." Her voice trembled, body all a jitter with adrenaline and relief. "Artsblood, we have to get you help."

Arts allowed herself to be held, allowed herself to be limp. ?I will heal, miss,? she purred. ?Our kind do that. If you can help me to my Witch, and then take a scrap of that stake to your lover, and tell her that the two of you can explore what you have without fear for a time.

Jane nodded solemnly, on the verge of tears now from the sheer relief. "Of course. Come, let me help you up."
And Jane lifted the spider woman willingly, for her devotion to this creature would be eternal--Artsblood, who ended the life of one who had been a threat to all of them, who allowed Jane that much longer with her beloved.

There is nothing to Arts as Jane supports her, stick-figure woman with birdbones. She let herself almost be carried, seemingly lost in her own wonder that it was over, that she was the one who walked away.